‘Panata’ and the challenges of modern faith

My grandfather made a “panata” (religious pledge) to provide a free meal to his fellow farmers as his almsgiving on Holy Thursdays. With the help of my Lola and their seven children, they would spend the entire morning cooking different dishes, serve the food at the farm by lunchtime, and then clean up all the used pots and dirty dishes until early afternoon. When his children got older and had families of their own, Lolo enlisted his growing brood of in-laws and grandchildren in keeping this promise.

My earliest concept of a Lenten sacrifice was waking up every Holy Thursday at 5:30 a.m.—without complaining—to go to my Mom’s childhood home in Bulacan. Upon arriving, we would be greeted by my Lola and her steaming bowl of sotanghon—the customary sustenance before my Lolo gives the volunteers their task for the day. While the adults work tirelessly on preparing the lunch for the farmers, those too young to help out would sit by the gate to wait for the cenáculo, a staged reenactment of Christ’s passion and death, to pass by the street. Before Jim Caviezel in “The Passion,” the human face I associated with Jesus was my grandparents’ neighbor named Mentong, who portrayed the role as his yearly panata.

On Good Friday, the whole family would head to the plaza to join the evening procession. Uncle Phil, my Mom’s oldest brother, always took charge of selecting which giant religious float we would accompany with our lighted candles for the two-hour prayer walk. Despite being tired from our tightly packed itinerary, my Dad would make the long drive back to Manila, so we could still join the Easter vigil in our local parish. By Sunday, I had already been exposed to so much anticipation about Jesus’ resurrection that I felt so excited, even when I was too young to fully grasp its significance.

I often hear older people lament about how the youth have slowly let go of Holy Week and Easter traditions. I think it is worth reflecting on why some of the efforts are falling short of inspiring the same fervor. One challenge about being Catholic in a predominantly Catholic country is that the convenience of being one could also lead to a sense of complacency in how religion is practiced and passed on. I remember how the Christian Values classes that I attended growing up largely consisted of rote prayers and a set of rules, with little discussion on the why, or the deeper meaning behind them. With no access to meaningful opportunities to be formed spiritually, it is easy for one to just go through the motions of religious practices, without truly engaging with one’s beliefs.

Young people are also navigating a much larger and more complex world of options and information—making it quite difficult for a flimsy experience of faith to take root. Instead of worrying about preserving old ways of commemorating, perhaps more focus should be given to how to communicate the message better in this new context. Easter is such a profound narrative of resurrection and redemption. There is so much hope to be found in learning about the triumph of God’s unconditional love over death and sin, and the promise of a new life for humanity. The challenge lies in translating this from an abstract concept, into concrete, authentic, and engaging experiences of faith for young people, not just during Holy Week and Easter, but throughout the year. Pope Francis often talks about the need to meet people, where they are and as they are.

And this responsibility of creating a more dynamic, more responsive, and more empathetic Church, rests with the lay people as much as on its leaders.

The older I got, the more I understood how my family has allowed me to encounter faith in a way that feels alive and tangible and one that permeates the smallest moments of a person’s life. My Lolo made very little money but he dutifully saved up for Holy Thursdays and wholeheartedly shared the little extra that he had. Through his example, it was deeply ingrained in us that being a person of faith means being attuned and responsive to the needs of others; and that upholding social justice is an integral aspect of the Christian life. From my parents, I learned not just the value of sacrifice, but how to live it with awe and love. Although my relationship with my faith has had its ups and downs, it was these experiences that would always help me find my way back.

My Lolo passed away a few years ago but my parents decided to continue his devotion. Last Monday, I asked my Mom how she feels that many of the grandchildren (including my sister and me), are no longer involved. She replied that she was sad, but understands how some of the old traditions do eventually have to give way to new ones. What matters, she said, is that we don’t forget the deeper lesson behind the panata and why it was made: That faith is a commitment to be lived.

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