The Filipino Pabasa: I Sing A Little Prayer for You

by Elizabeth Ann Quirino

By Elizabeth Ann Quirino

If you are in the Philippines during the Lenten Holy Week, a few days before Easter, the country shuts down and nearly all business establishments are closed. Basically, everyone is praying and practicing religious rituals which have been passed on for generations.

Have you been to a pabasa? My parents made me dutifully go with them to the annual pabasa (say ‘pah-bah-sa’) in our neighborhood when we were children. Translated in Tagalog, pabasa means ‘to read’.

The pabasa is a chanting ritual, a time-honored tradition in the Philippines during Holy Week. It is also called pasyon and translated means ‘passion’, referring to the passion of Jesus. The ritual starts after Palm Sunday (seven days before Easter) and ends on Good Friday. This is a story-telling event where the passion of Christ is retold in songs sung by a community choir.

Piercing high-pitched operatic voices of men and women are heard throughout the neighborhood on loudspeakers. The music is intrusive and reaches a reverberating crescendo every few hours. The melody is familiar, from Filipino kundimans (old love songs) or from present day western pop hits. But the lyrics are different. The music accompaniments are local bands with native string instruments like the banduria (small round guitar-looking piece) or else an acoustic guitar.

I remember going with my parents to this open-air hut near our house. We walked under the scorching-hot sun. We arrived at a neighbor’s house, where there was a religious altar set up. There were women of different ages seated in the front, facing the crucifix and religious images, chanting the songs while telling the story of how Christ died on the cross. They were reading from a large book that looked like a bible. My father told me the passages were written by many generations before us.

In Tarlac where I grew up, the verses were sung in Kapampangan — the dialect of our province. Nowadays, the ‘pabasa’ and the book are translated in several dialects spoken around the Philippines — Tagalog, Ilocano, Waray, Pangasinense.

My parents and I sat behind the choir. My parents prayed. I did not sing along. The old-fashioned verses were difficult for me to comprehend. I could not focus, no matter how my parents tried to compel me.

My stomach was growling. It was Good Friday and we practiced meatless Fridays for six weeks in Lent. My parents and the adults ate only one full meal on Fridays of Lent, as a form of penitence. As a child, this was unbearable for me. I glanced at a large buffet table on the side of the altar where there was food for guests and the choir. It was a tempting spread of pancit (noodles) puto, kuchinta and kakanin — native steamed rice cakes topped with sweet coconut. I wanted to grab one piece, but I knew it would be wrong.

The stillness of the summer heat was oppressive. I felt the sweat trickle down the back of my cotton dress. I wiped perspiration off my brow and furtively glanced at the people murmuring prayers around us. I pretended to bow my head in prayer. But my thoughts raced to the meal back at the house. I knew my mother had prepared a large platter of fish, vegetables and rice. I could hardly wait. When my family was done praying and singing, my father gave a white envelope with his humble donation, to the community organizer. He told me it was a small cash gift to help sustain the efforts.

This was a scene from years ago and how I saw the Lenten Holy Week celebrated in the Philippines. They are beautiful traditions that are still practiced to this day in towns and barrios.

I was a child then when I attended the Pabasa rituals with my parents. As an adult today, living in America, far away, I feel guilty I did not behave better and pay attention. I now know why my parents brought me to these neighborhood rituals. It was to think less of myself, to be considerate of others and realize what our purpose was in this world. It was to better ourselves by giving.

The Pabasa is based on the Filipinos’ deep faith and religion. No matter how tough the economy is, and how many political challenges the country is going through, people put aside work, and daily activities to come together in prayer and song during Lent. Filipinos find strength in their religion and faith. For Filipinos, prayer is life. And often we were told by our elders, praying through song are prayers twice said.