Translating Jesus
The grand Black Nazarene procession today, Jan. 9, in Manila is referred to as the Traslacíon, a Spanish word with several meanings. In the case of the January Black Nazarene procession, “traslacíon” means a transfer, commemorating the original religious event, going back to the 18th century, where the image was transferred from the San Juan de Bagumbayan Church to Quiapo. Bagumbayan is what we call Luneta today, also the place where Jose Rizal was executed.
Traslacíon is also used to refer to movements, usually astronomical in nature. Still another meaning of traslacíon is a metaphor, a figure of speech comparing two objects or phenomena, to help people understand something.
Finally, we have traslacíon as translation, which does not necessarily have to be from one language to another.
I think of the Black Nazarene procession of January as perhaps the most powerful public religious events that mobilize (note “mobilize” and “move” are related concepts) people for matters of faith, in effect translating key concepts. Such events helped the Spaniards to introduce a totally alien religion to the Philippines, which through the centuries has become one of the most powerful social forces in the country. Moreover, we speak of the translation of a core concept in Catholicism that isn’t that simple: the idea of God (or the Son of God) becoming a human being to redeem humanity.
There was one Good Friday several years ago when I attended another Black Nazarene procession, much smaller but still involving thousands of devotees. Many wore t-shirts thanking Jesus for giving up his life for humanity. The Filipino term used was “pagtutubos,” more commonly known in relation to redeeming something that has been pawned.
January is actually a time for multiple translations of Jesus. You have the Santo Niño, the infant Jesus, also honored with processions in various parts of the Philippines including, notably, the Sinulog of Cebu.
But why is the Black Nazarene so particularly useful for translating Jesus?
We start with the Black Nazarene standing in contrast to the other images which render Jesus as a white man, so much more like the oppressive Spaniards than a man that became known not just for deliverance from sin but also as a healer, as is seen in the daily streams of devotees, of all ages, seeking to touch one of the images in Quiapo Church, including one of the Santo Entierro, the dead Jesus, still powerful in death.
The original Black Nazarene isn’t even the one used for the Traslacíon. Some years ago, I accidentally chanced on a shop near Quiapo Church that was selling old phonograph records. The amiable owner of the shop brought out a wooden arm which he claimed to be from the original Nazarene and which he would lend out to people with relatives in the hospital, to help heal the patient. When I mentioned this to one of my graduate classes, one of the students, a physician, came to me during a break and said he had actually seen such an “amputated” arm next to a bedridden patient in the hospital!
The crowds for the Traslacíon have swelled each year, involving many young Filipinos and much of this happens not out of curiosity but because the devotees are often supplicants, asking the Nazarene for a favor, usually health-related. The appeals are accompanied by a “panata,” a vow, to join the annual Traslacíon if the patient recovers.
Then, too, there is the macho element. The devotees are largely males who live up to the gender stereotype of not being religious in the sense of attending Mass or regular prayer. Instead, they join the crowds which, one of my students who had dared to join the Traslacíon, described as a human tidal wave. Once you enter the wave, you lose all personal autonomy. No footwear, no wallets, cellphones. You depend on the devotees around you to be able to move, some through connections with other seasoned devotees who might help you to get closer to the image, perhaps even being able to touch a part of the image. That will be harder this year because the image will be within a glass enclosure.
There is so much yet that needs to be documented about the Traslacíon. I only recently read about a stop-over in Plaza del Carmen, for a brief encounter between the Nazarene and Our Lady of Mount Carmel, a reenactment of one of the main events in Christ’s passion where he meets his grieving mother.
There are stories to tell, not just on Jan. 9, but for the rest of the year, from one generation to another, all contributing to the translation of the life, passion, death and, when you think about it, resurrection of Jesus the Nazarene.
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