CEBU, Philippines - All Saints Day is supposed to be a day for saints. Faithfuls are expected to hear the Holy Mass on that day, it being a day of obligation. But in the light of local tradition such obligation is being overshadowed by another obligation: That of remembering the dead.
A Filipino remembers the dead mainly by visiting their resting places. There he light candles and offers flowers. He says some prayers too and for those who can afford it, a "responso" is arranged. A priest of course does this kind of thing, which is considered more significant than those offered by mere lay men.
So compelling is the urge to visit the dead that one feels a sense of guilt if he fails to do so. And so on the day of saints and the day of souls, all footsteps lead to the cemetery. The dead of course are not in their burial places. Their real selves, our faith teaches us, are somewhere in another world. But where would we visit them but in the very spot where we left them? They may not be there to see us, but perhaps in their spirit world they could be gazing down at us, and feel, if they can still feel, how much we missed them.
The poet Rossetti once wrote: "When I am dead my dearest / Sing no sad song for me / Plant then no roses at my feet / nor shady cypress tress"…She says what's the use of songs and roses when she can no longer see the sunshine nor feel the rain? She is "dreaming" through the twilight and doesn't care whether she is remembered or forgotten.
But that's poetry and poetry defies tradition. A Filipino, however, is defined by tradition, so even if an angel were to tell him that the dead are not in their graves he would not listen. He had listened to his old folks who listened to their old folks who told them to visit their departed ones in their resting places. So there he goes. Flowers and candles? Perhaps the dead cannot see the wondrous interplay of colors in a bunch of these, nor smell the breath of forest in them. Perhaps they won't appreciate the glow from candle lights nor feel the comfort of their warmth. But tradition says the graves have to be spruced up and what better ornaments are there but candles and flowers?
Candles, it is believed, add ardour to prayers said for the dead. They impart a sense of sanctity to a spot where they are lighted. Their naked flame signifies purity of intention made eloquent by self-sacrifice, for as a candle burns it consumes itself.
Flowers of course are God's handiwork made to delight the senses. From the smallest to the biggest their mandate is to entertain but at the same time to astound the mind with this simple truth: That in each of them is lodged the mystery of humanity and of the divine.
A poet once wrote: "Flowers in a crannied wall / I pluck you out of the cranny/ I hold you here, root and all / Little flower, if I know what you are, root and all / I would know what God and what man is…". On the day of souls, one's offering of flowers is therefore an offering of love. The self is at a loss how to express his longing for the ones he lost. Flowers can eloquently articulate such longing for flower reveal the essence of one's personhood.
From resting grounds to dwelling places the reach of tradition extends. There, special prayers are said for departed loved ones and rituals are performed. Prayers and rituals constitute the format of what is called "kalag-kalag", an affair usually participated in by the entire family together with relatives and friends.
The prayer is usually done in the evening of All Saints Day, at eight o'clock. During that time the souls are believed to be present in the house, perhaps trying to say hello in their spirit way to the living. They are said to join their relatives in the latter's prayers, a belief made stronger by the marks of footsteps on an ash covered piece of cloth spread before the entrance to the house. After the prayer comes the "kalag-kalag" feast, where the menu was specially prepared for the visiting souls.
The food was carefully selected taking note of the favorite repast of the ghostly guests. Even coconut wine (tuba) is served if some of the dead were known to be tuba drinkers. Perhaps, to entice the mysterious visitors, the meals are richly spiced. But garlic and salt are taboo, the belief being that these do not appeal to the palate of the spirit banqueters.
Tradition, tradition - the cyberspace generation may be skeptical of it. Bur tradition is our link to our forebears, so we have to be faithful to it.
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