Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve

Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve! Traditionally, it’s the time of year when the faithful heads to church to attend Midnight Mass (Misan Gayu). We participate in the anniversary of the niño’s birthday. Afterwards, we head home for coffee and breakfast before resting for the veneration of the Baby Jesus at daylight.

There was once the tradition of a basket of yam doughnuts usually placed beneath the front window of the house for everyone, including passersby. It faded when we moved from farming to a money economy. In fact, consider yourself lucky if you eat yam during the holiday season. This is because the farm item is either scarce or a bit too pricey for our retirement and social security checks.

Remember the neighborhood novena for the Baby Jesus that moved from house to house? It was a religious event attended by nearly every kid on the block. Poor as we were, at least there was festive food before Christmas Eve. The novena has kept a closely-knit community for years where we knew everybody by first name.

In our golden years, the year-end religious tradition evokes a sentimental journey into yester-years. I miss the family gathering with parents and siblings. We renew familial unity and love and spent the rest of the afternoon talking or singing in harmony. It’s family unity at its best!

It was in this gathering that you extend the olive branch to any sibling with whom you may have feuded over the last year. We all bury it with Felis Noche Buena and move along. Yes, someone said that a family that prays together stays together.

Even more humbling was the grand felicitation and blessings we’ve received from our elderly in the old village. Last I checked the place, none of the elderly who used to press my forehead with the sign of the cross is around. They were there during the sunrise of my boyhood but have all sailed into the sunset since years ago. Si yuus maase`!

It was in church that I heard the most beautiful noche buena songs with my late Uncle Bill and his wife Kita leading the choir. The late Dominina Olopai and her dad did the 8am Mass. I haven’t heard the wonderful harmony since yester-years! The veneration troops no longer sing. They just turn on the CD and blast it off as they come near residential areas. Must be the gift of the digital age that relegated local custom into the back pages of history.

I still remember that though this may be a joyous occasion, it remains Silent Night. It was “all is calm, all is bright” as the eternal light shines silently over Bethlehem. It’s the north star of our spiritual journey! Follow it.

Indeed, it was a sentimental journey of the old village community of what it used to be that is no longer. Well, we treaded the most memorable road in life, I Chalan Iya Hame or “The Road Home.” Felis noche buena para todus! Si Iku.

Kissing of the hand: If there’s any lasting tradition that is still strong among local families here, it’s the kissing of the hands of our elderly. You bend your head as they grant you the lasting wish of a successful journey ahead. What’s the essence of this tradition?

It would have to be that sense of humility that fosters personal respect so you in turn respect others in your family and community. The combined discipline of tradition and spiritual development ensures peace and tranquility in our communities.

To this day, I still bow my head when I meet aunts and uncles in family gatherings or elsewhere. I do the same whenever there’s time to visit the graves of my parents and loved ones. My children and grand children have learned this wonderful tradition.

Gratifying the knowledge that you have been blessed with deep and thoughtful wish that you find brighter tomorrows as you grow into an adult. It’s one healthy aspect that is found in our cultural tradition—fostering of a sense of humility and respect—as you traverse that long journey before you.

Compassion: Humbling that our people are very compassionate and would extend a hand to needy siblings or anyone else in our community. Believe it or not, labels don’t mean a thing to the extent where we also share food stamps. If anything, the darn thing tasted good too!

I see families carrying on the tradition of novenas. In time of sorrow, we all gather to console the bereaved. Happy to see how well our people understand the difference in gifts for happy occasions versus family misfortune. It’s another strong fiber in our tradition that has kept us together in both good and bad times.

Communal sharing: Communal sharing is a tradition that has devolved and now limited to immediate families only. Recalled when neighbors shared farm harvest or fresh catch from the sea. It faded slowly as more folks relocated to new homestead subdivisions between As Matuis, Tanapag, Kagman, Dandan and Koblerville.

This is still well and alive among immediate family members. It only takes a phone call to collect your share. At least, the visit is a way of ensuring that everyone’s doing fine. You can head home content that everyone’s well and good. It’s still a sentiment in my heart, soul and mind as the oldest among siblings.