Growing up in a Catholic household, Holy Week was not just a break from school—it was sacred. I graduated from a Catholic school and was raised in a home where faith wasn’t just taught, it was lived. My parents were active church servers, and their devotion deeply influenced my own spiritual path. I was taught to believe and follow the Roman Catholic traditions, especially during Holy Week, when everything slowed down for a reason.
Every Good Friday, our family had a standing tradition—Visita Iglesia. We would personally visit seven churches here in Davao City, and my mother, the ever-faithful one, would lead our prayers at each stop. It wasn’t just about visiting the churches—it was a prayerful pilgrimage, a form of reflection, and a quiet offering of time and presence to God. There was a deep sense of purpose in every step we took, from one church to another.
At 12 noon, we would return to our home church where my father, devoted and eloquent, would take his place as one of the speakers for the Seven Last Words of Jesus. My mother and I would sit quietly, listening to each word, absorbing every reflection, every silence in between. By 3PM, the service would end, and we would go back to our usual house chores, but our hearts felt lighter, more renewed.
As I grew older and had children of my own, I found joy in passing on these same traditions. I taught my daughters the meaning of Good Friday, why it mattered, and how it shaped our faith. But the world is not the same as it was when I was a child. Today’s pace, values, and distractions are different—and while I hold these traditions close to my heart, I have learned that I cannot force my children to do the same.
I no longer insist that they come with me for Visita Iglesia or sit through the Seven Last Words in church. Instead, we adapt. I stay home now, listening and watching the live feed of the Seven Last Words on TV. It’s not quite the same as being physically present in church, but the meaning is still there. The message still reaches the heart.
Yes, the world has changed. We may not always make it to the churches physically, but the essence of our faith remains. We still observe the Holy Week, still spend it in reflection, prayer, and stillness—at home.
Traditions evolve, but their spirit lives on. And I am grateful that even in quiet corners of our house, we can still feel the solemnity and love of Good Friday.
