Christianity came to our shores in the form of the Cross, which Magellan planted at the site of the present kiosk that house and commemorate it, and more successfully in the little statuette of the Holy Child, the Sto. Niño.
There is so much violence and love on the cross. I can imagine the original cross splattered with blood and bits of flesh probably from Jesus’ body, bloodied and wounded from lashing. He must have writhed in pain from fresh cuts as well as dried up ones. I think Mel Gibson was right in realistically depicting the violence on the cross.
It must have been so hard to endure such a sight for His loved ones, and much more for Him to withstand all that pain. And with a human body, He breathed His last on the cross, giving in to pain, exhaustion, violence.
Yet the cross, now we look at it, was overcome with so much love. All the ill will, hatred, conspiracy, envy that had Him crucified, were washed away (together with all the blood that dried) with His love for them who persecuted Him and for mankind. He lived as He preached. He turned the other cheek.
But apparently, it was easier for the Cebuano natives to embrace the new religion as symbolized by the God-Child. It’s hard for them to grasp why would Jesus, the Man-God be so seemingly powerless as to endure pain and death on the cross.
Like a child with less than remarkable parents, Christianity came crawling into our shores and tugged at our hearts. It doesn’t matter if men with dubious purposes carried the child on their shoulders.
The Sto Nino triumphed because we see the idea of the loving, forgiving God in the innocent child who holds no rancor and makes us genuinely happy.
Love is central to the message of Christianity. To love is to see the face of God (Les Miserables).
It’s not so hard to understand it. Love is like a flower blooming. It blossoms beautifully, quietly because it is. The birds fly because they do. The tide rushes to the shore and recedes back to the sea. It doesn’t need a reason why. It just does.
One loves. One just does. And lives like a palm swaying to the wind’s whisper. Or like the brook murmuring as it meanders down among the rocks.
It made us see Him in His creations and not worship them no matter how beautiful they are like the moon and the stars that illumine the night, or the sturdy tree that gives ample shade.
Let us just remember God didn’t stay a child. He grew up and was crucified on the cross. There is as much love on the cross as in the face of the smiling God-Child.
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