Owning A St. Longinus Paso - A Story of Mishaps and Missteps

So, I thought owning a paso or a lifesize statue intended for a Good Friday procession would be all solemn reverence and pious reflection.

Turns out, it's more like adopting a very large, very dramatic, and surprisingly high-maintenance toddler made of wood.

It all started with the "Selection of Subject and Iconography."

I envisioned a stoic Jesus, maybe a bit dusty, but radiating divine forgiveness.

Instead, I ended up with St Longinus, a centurion whose life and conversion we can relate to.

To the uninformed, St Longinus was the centurion who pierced the side of our Lord while hanging on the cross.

He was nearly blind and was healed when the blood and water from Jesus fell into his eyes.

It was he who claimed: "Indeed, this was the son of God." (Mark 15:39.

After the miracle, when he got his eyes restored to 20/20 vision ... he was converted, left the Roman army, and became a monk.

There, he was arrested and martyred because he refused to renounce his faith; his teeth were forced out, and his tongue was cut off.

But miracle of miracles, even though his tongue was cut off, he managed to speak clearly and managed to destroy some idols in the presence of the governor.

The governor, who was made blind by the demons that came from the idols, had his sight restored when St. Longinus was beheaded because his blood came in contact with the governor's eyes.

Back to our topic ... my only problem with our statue was that his mournful expression looked suspiciously like he'd just stubbed his feet with his spear instead of Jesus' side.

The person who sculpted the statue (though he sounded defensive) assured me it was not mournful.

He said it was more of "anguish," but I swear I saw St Longinus roll his eyes when he said that.

What more if I dare say point-blank that the statue's eyes are squinting -strabismus to some ... cross-eyed to others. Naawa na nga ako sa kanya at hindi ko na sinabi.

Then came the "Budget and Acquisition." Let's say my dreams of buying more exotic fruit trees in our orchard have been replaced by the stark reality of "Caro/Karosa Expenses ... and don't forget the statue expenses."

I knew the carriage was important, but I wasn't prepared for the sheer artistry (and cost) of it all.

My carpenters, who were doubling as the architect and electrician, Michael and Alfred, did have a blanket authority on everything ... I was worried about their utter and complete disregard for right angles, but they assured me their creation was "divinely inspired."

And the electricity! Oh, the electricity! I wanted subtle, ethereal lighting.

Michael, however, installed enough wattage to power a small city. 'The brighter the better.

Alfred and Franz agreed without hesitation.

He claimed it was "to illuminate the centurion's pain and ambivalence (he pierced Jesus remember ... but he regretted doing it) for all to see!"

I suspect it was to blind the competition.

Then we have to commission a camarera who will decorate and maintain the pasos (religious images) and carrozas (floats),

My daughter-in-law Shyla, volunteered for the job; I readily accepted it for sheer lack of budget. Tipid tips baga.

I know her. When she put her heart into it ... she delivers. Bravo Shy!

And you know Michael, he is a Jack of all Trades... he wants to dip his feet in the perplexing world of camarista. Can I stop him? I can't.

But in fairness to them, their tandem and collab showed promise. Purrfect.

"Vesting and Design" was another adventure.

Forget haute couture; this is holy couture. My St Longinus now sports a crested helmet, specialized armor, a decorated belt, and a red or crimson cloak that looked so heavy.

I'm convinced Enrike, my designer, had put that one on purpose - to get that much-needed oomph to distract the somber mood of the procession while everybody was reciting the rosary.

Don't even get me started. The cloak was so long, it doubled as a tripping hazard for Franz, David, and Bonjo - our costaleros (the teenage volunteers who pushed and pulled the carroza).

Which brings me to "Logistics and Manpower." Finding skilled sculptors was easy compared to finding costaleros willing to risk their spines for my slightly-off-kilter paso.

I ended up bribing all of them with promises of a free tuna sandwich, a bottle of coke and my absolution.

And now, the grand finale: "Maintenance and Tradition." Turns out, owning a paso isn't a one-day-a-year gig.

It's a year-round commitment to dusting, polishing, and praying that Michael and Alfred's "divinely inspired" carriage doesn't collapse mid-procession.

So, as Good Friday approaches, I stand before my St. Longinus, and a mix of pride and sheer terror swirls around my head.

Will the carriage hold? Will the lights short-circuit? Will the costaleros revolt? Will St Longinus' head fall off when passing deep potholes in the road? Only time will tell.

But one thing's for sure: this Holy Week, I'll be praying harder than ever before.

Not just for forgiveness, but for a good chiropractor to attend to my back pains and muscle aches.

And maybe, just maybe, I can concentrate on and buy more Hibiscus varieties to brighten and encourage the mangoes ... the mangosteen, the rambutan, the lanzones of the world to finally flower and bear abundant fruits next month.

They need to make a good income.

I know Michael will demand a change of costume, again, and he is already hinting at his extravagant plans.

He thinks St Longinus will need a more elaborate costume, something not seen in Ten Commandments or Jes