In the land of now-Philippines, Simbang Gabi (church at night), is a historically, culturally colonized tradition turned holiday highlight for modern day Pilipinx across the global diaspora.
Originated in the 1600s after Spain took over Ma-i, and claimed it “the Philippines” after their then-ruler King Philip; the Spainards & Friars continued to push their colonization agenda and religious influence on the natives and their land. As they “compromised” with the indigenous peoples-turned-land-labor farmers (aka slaves — did you think this was going to be a warm posting about the history/truth?) to attend mass, I wonder if they were intentionally traditionalizing a nine-day mass novena. In these 9 days prior to Christmas, all Pilipinx would attend a 5am mass to receive the word of God, the body & blood of Christ, and commune with one another.
Folksay that if you make a wish, and complete all 9 days; it will come true.
Flash forward to 2023, existing as a Pilipinx-American, millenial in the Bay Area of California, on her own spiritual decolonization journey — of course this incentive intrigues me. But not primarily for the soul gain on wishing and manifesting in my Gregorian year 2024 desires… Believe it or not, I actually miss communing with like-minded spiritual folk in a safe space at a designated time, with ritual, song, prayer, and of course- food! This self-experiment to return back to my old church community down the street, after years of missing liturgical callings to read at weekly Sunday masses like I used to — is purely because in my journey of spiritual exploration, I have realized the importance of being in spiritual devotion and how the essence of that practice cultivates a discipline within. I am particularly inspired by my Muslim, Sufi, and Kundalini teachers, whom I have had the privilege to sit with and learn from.
So, what’s 9 days to a gyal?
Whose also in graduate school, working, seeing clients part time for my licensure, and oh yeah- living life. And again, when I detach from all the internal excuses that arise within, the determination to self-show and self-prove, especially at this current day and age, drives me. In addition to my 8/9 success rate I haven’t been able to achieve since undergraduate! Extra incentive to push myself this holy day season.
I once had a friend who said when she would jog, she would cry. My educational guess is what the release of stress from her body with the increase of endorphins would create tears. I low key felt that when the mass finally began. And, with the priest being late to his own community on day 1, the humor I found whilst awaiting for him perhaps added a layer of endearment, to being present in this familiar space. Witnessing my uncle strum his guitar, my church aunts and other uncles singing along in Tagalog, lights from the parole, holiday decor everywhere.. it was reminiscent and full-circle all at once. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t cry though, but maybe I felt a lil’ something coming on.
While I sat secluded from my parents (mom was SO -understandably- thrilled I was there), I paid attention to mass with a curious focus, more than I have ever done in the past. Because I am not the Catholic/Christian/Spiritual person I used to be, and that called for extra attention to what I was reciting and praying for. Words are spells, afteralls y’alls. For example, I laser-ed in on the types of prayers and the word choices they had people reciting. Some words I ascribed to (i.e. pray for holy land peace), others I may have just kept still or grimaced (i.e. “save us” lines). I noticed the order of the mass. How many times I would have to sit, stand, kneel. Good Lawd it can be interesting getting up & down, half sleepy and recovering from a gym leg day.
I pondered how many other things I may observe and write about in these next 8 days. Either way, it was overall refreshing to attend something so spiritually evoking, so early in the day. Is this what my ancestors in the 1600s felt, despite some of their faith-based-will being compromised? Kind of like… eating your vegetables that you’re not fond of, if you know what I mean. I am told they served some bomb sopas after mass. But it didn’t matter anyway, because I was definitely back in bed by 630am.
