I miss the Misa de Gallo. Every Christmas, I promise to attend at least one of these dawn masses but always end up short. No way could I force myself now to wake up at 4 a.m. when I sleep past 12 midnight. But I have fond memories of the ritual, etched in my mind when I was young and when work and family had still to be my preoccupation.
In an age of change, people of my generation may have to be thankful that the Filipino version of the Misa de Gallo has not yet been taken over by commercialization and twisted by foreign influences, like what is happening to the celebration of the Kalag-kalag in large urban centers of the country. I dread to see my kids talk Halloween instead.
One of my early Cebuano short stories published in the old Sun.Star Weekend was on the “sungkaan.” It was about a father who tried teaching his children the rudiments of the game and to enjoy it like he did when he was younger. Eventually, though, his kids found computer games more exciting. Signs of the times, actually.
My recollection of the very early misa de gallo I was in is hazy, but I reckon it was in Argao town where we lived for a few years when my father was assigned there as a Pepsi-Cola salesman. I remember the church, the people and the delicacies (puto or budbod and sikwate) after the mass. And, yes, the darkness of dawn in a rural milieu.
It was while growing up in Sitio Kawayan in Barangay Sambag 2, Cebu City where I developed a better understanding of the ritual and the peripheral feelings that celebrating it evokes. That was when our place was still under the Redemptorist Parish and the priests and parish workers were active in drawing us kids into church activities.
Waking up early was always a struggle, more so walking in the cold dawn air from our place to the church which was, I think, more than a kilometer away (from B. Rodriguez Ext. down to B. Rodriguez proper, crossing to Fuente Osmeña going to Mango Ave. down to Baseline, St. Theresa’s College and finally the church). We did it anyway.
This Christmas, I promise again to attend the Misa de Gallo and fulfill it. I don’t want my two boys to grow up losing a feel of a practice that partly shaped the lives of their parents when they were younger. I know that change is inevitable and eventually the future generations will chart their own paths. But some things need to be handed down to our kids if only to help them grow up to become good Christians.
(I wrote this for my December 17, 2009 Candid Thoughts column in Sun.Star Cebu)