Ash Wednesday is supposed to remind us of the themes of death (“Remember you are dust and unto dust you shall return”) and penance. Ash Wednesday ushers in Lent, a 40-day period culminating in Easter, the number 40 being associated with retreating from the world, as Christ did in the desert, before starting his ordeal and ending with his crucifixion.
I was particularly reflective during the last Ash Wednesday, and thought of writing a two-in-one column today, starting on a light note and moving on to a serious one.
First, a reflection on how Ash Wednesday and the whole of Lent—meant to be a period of penance marked by fasting and abstinence among Christians—have been changing. “Abstinence” is usually associated with not eating meat, but its original spirit entailed giving up something pleasurable, so it can also mean giving up a favorite food or alcoholic beverage, smoking, or any other pleasurable activity. Through the years we’ve seen the number of days for fasting and abstinence reduced to a minimum, and the penitential activities span the spectrum, from almost total nonobservance to the extremes, like flagellation and getting nailed to a cross.
Pancake Day, Mardi Gras
Hand it to humans to prepare for abstinence and penance by making a last-minute fling. The day before Ash Wednesday is called Pancake Day in Britain and a few other countries; it is marked by pancake eating, which is a way of consuming whatever milk and eggs are still around before going into the 40-day Lenten period of self-denial.
Then there is Mardi Gras, which we know best from Brazil’s carnivals. Mardi Gras means “Fat Tuesday”—again supposed to be a last-minute pigging out, with not just food but also dancing in the streets… and more. The word “carnival” itself is sometimes traced back to “carne,” or meat, whose consumption is limited starting Ash Wednesday.
(A side note about Brazil’s Mardi Gras: Despite the Zika virus scare, Brazilians and tourists still poured into the streets in large numbers to celebrate, presumably with lots of mosquito repellent. Their Mardi Gras is a kind of UP Lantern Parade amplified a thousand times over, with competitions among samba schools who put up their best dancers to perform on lavish floats.)
And notice how the date for Ash Wednesday and Lent move around each year? This is because the date is based on the moon, rather than the sun. It’s rather complicated: Easter is supposed to be celebrated on the first Sunday following the first full moon after the vernal equinox. In effect, without most people knowing it, Christians are using a lunisolar calendar. This is a good time to make a small correction for my column last Wednesday, where I mentioned that the Chinese use a lunisolar calendar, “based on the movements of the sun and the moon.” That was a rather medieval lapse. The moon orbits around the planet Earth, and Earth around the sun. The sun pretty much stays still, but note that for centuries the Catholic Church insisted on geocentrism, the idea that Earth was the center of the universe and the sun moved around it.
People who espoused heliocentrism—the idea that Earth and the other planets moved around the sun—were considered heretics and risked death or imprisonment. Giordano Bruno was burned at the stake in 1600 for heretical views, including supporting heliocentrism. Galileo got off somewhat lightly: He was tried by the Inquisition in 1633 and sentenced to “indefinite imprisonment.” He stayed under house arrest until his death in 1642.
2 deaths, and life
On Ash Wednesday I thought of two deaths—those of a professor and a student—that occurred the previous week, on Feb. 2.
Prof. Martin V. Gregorio, who served the University of the Philippines Diliman for more than 40 years, was 75 when he died of cancer. He started as an instructor of Spanish and then took on a number of administrative posts, so many that one heard many references to him, “in the time of Professor Gregorio,” especially involving community affairs. Even after retiring, he continued to serve UP as manager of the University Hotel.
A few years back Professor Gregorio turned over his faculty house to the administration, to have it converted into a “Balay Atleta”—a house for athletes. Situated right opposite the cashier’s office, it had become iconic and was known for its lush orchids. When it was converted into Balay Atleta, the orchids gave way to resident women athletes.
Professor Gregorio was an avid basketball fan and supporter of varsity teams. In a way then, there was a link between him and Rogie Maglinas.
Rogie was a member of the UP varsity football team. Like Professor Gregorio, Rogie died of cancer. Some time last year he suddenly lost his vision, and doctors found that he had nasopharyngeal cancer. He had been having pains and vision problems since he entered college, but had kept these to himself.
I was in touch with the Philippine General Hospital and his doctors from the time Rogie lost his vision. And from the beginning, the doctors gave a very poor prognosis. But we proceeded with the treatments, in part because Rogie clearly had the fighting spirit. His vision returned but remained bad, and the excruciating pain would come and go.
What made the whole situation even more difficult was finding out that his family, in Masbate, was impoverished. Rogie was the family’s hope.
His teammates and, in time, other varsity teams, wanted to hope, too. The football team players took turns in keeping him company; other athletes, students and faculty members came to visit. Rogie was clearly very popular with his friends.
At peace
Over the months I received reports from his doctors, who eventually told me that things were not looking good. Their task was made more challenging because Rogie had a cardiac condition. I would cringe when faculty members announced that he was doing well and recovering, knowing this was giving false hope. I feel it is good to be encouraging with patients battling terminal illnesses, but that relatives and friends should be given a more realistic assessment.
On Feb. 2 at 5 p.m., I got a text message from Dean Ron Dizer of the College of Human Kinetics: “Was informed that Rogie in his last hour. Football team at PGH.”
Minutes later, coach Lalaine Perenia of the UP Pep Squad texted in: “We were with him when he died. He was at peace.”
I sent my condolences to the family and to his teammates: “It was a brave fight and he leaves us comforted by enduring friendships.”
Friday night there were eulogies for Professor Gregorio and Rogie, in two different churches. I could only attend the service for Professor Gregorio as I got lost driving around at midnight looking for the church where Rogie’s wake was.
The next day, Kalayaan dorm had a huge activity, called Pasafest. In my opening remarks, I asked the audience, mostly students, to remember Rogie, who had stayed a few weeks in Kalayaan. I told them that it was Rogie’s birthday—he would have been 20—and that we should dedicate this year’s Pasafest to him, a celebration of a short, but most meaningful, life.
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mtan@inquirer.com.ph