Never too late to have a happy childhood

It is again that time of year. The nine days before the feast of the Santo Niño de Cebu — the novena days — always fill the wife and me with both excitement and dread. For years on end, we have made it a point during these days not to miss a Mass at the Basilica del Sto. Niño. So far we have made it, but only just. Always the success of our every trip to the Basilica is on a wing and a prayer.

We are ever hopeful that we could find parking space, that no matter how packed it is the crowd would miraculously part like the Red Sea and allow us passage into the Pilgrim Center and find a place to stand if not to sit on within viewing distance of the altar, and, not the least, that it would not rain.
In fact, the rain was the least of our problems. Many a time the heavens opened during the Mass, but the downpour made no difference to the innumerable pilgrims who routinely opened their umbrellas, in which as they unfurled I seemed to see a time-lapse view of flowers putting forth their multi-colored petals at the same time. Once, when the wife and I found ourselves defenseless against the rain — because we had underestimated the weather’s inconstancy and had come without any head cover — the girl beside us, who it turned out had a broad heart and an even broader umbrella, offered to take us in, and the three of us went to Communion together, under the same canopy, turning in a circle as we took turns receiving the host.

Instead of dampening, the rain lifts up our spirits. This is because within us is a child, the same that, as in my case, rushes into the streets to gambol in the downpour and stand under the spouts, albeit anxiously watched by the elders from a window.

Does this not tie in the weather with the spirit of the feast, the celebration of the childhood of Jesus? Which, aside from foregrounding the Incarnation, puts stress on the need for humility and a trusting dependence on God — on Jesus’ call for us to draw from the strengths of children.

We read about this in Matthew, how, when the disciples drew near, Jesus said, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” And then he called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.”

There were times when the nearest we could get to the site of the Mass was the street beside the Basilica, which, thankfully, were lined with chairs. While we could hear the readings, homily and prayers through the public address system, we could not see the Mass unfold and could only follow it through our ears. It did not help that people were constantly passing before us — the vendors of water and candles, parents attending to their children, a good number of them still infants in their strollers, who were periodically bottle-fed and given fresh diapers. I reckoned that in the spirit of the Sto. Niño the babies and the children had an equal right to be there. This festival belonged to them, and to all who, including me please God, were humble, trusting, guileless.

On any one novena day the size of the crowd could equal that of a rock concert, and dense enough to allow for “crowd surfing” — an occasional feature in rock shows, in which a person is passed above the heads of the audience, with their hands supporting his weight. We saw a version of this when someone passed out and had to be transported to the ambulance in the fastest way — through crowd surfing. I told myself that hereabouts, which is all to the good, Jesus had acquired something like rock-star status during the novena days to the Sto. Niño.
Rain and rockstar — the child and the youth’s, well, thing, so to speak. Never mind the dance, the sinulog, which requires a child’s faith to perform. Never mind the balloons, the symbols of childhood, to which the crowd tie their petitions and which they release into the ether.
Yes, Tom Robbins, it’s never too late to have a happy childhood.