Miracles and sacrifice: Why millions join the Traslacion

MANILA, Philippines – Devotees of the Black Nazarene, believed by generations to have performed miracles, are called mamamasan. Every January 9, millions of them join the Traslacion, a grand procession in Quiapo to celebrate the feast of the Black Nazarene.

The towering image of Jesus carrying a cross, made of dark wood, was brought from Mexico to the Philippines by Augustinian Recollect friars in the early 1600s. It was initially housed in the Church of San Juan Bautista in Bagumbayan (now part of Luneta) before being moved to the Church of San Nicolas de Tolentino in Intramuros. By the late 1700s, it found its current home at the Minor Basilica and National Shrine of Jesus Nazareno in Quiapo.

The annual procession reenacts the journey of the image from its first parish in Bagumbayan to its current home in Quiapo. Over the years, the devotion has grown from a simple route around the Quiapo Church to starting at the Quirino Grandstand, now taking up to 20 hours to complete.

Devotees have come to be called mamamasan from the word pasan (carry), as they lift the image of the Nazarene, set on a wooden float, on their shoulders during the procession. 

Each year, devotees dressed in maroon, walking barefoot, and waving handkerchiefs or towels can be seen fervently participating in the event. What drives these mamamasan to dedicate time and effort, even at the risk of life and limb?

Lifetime commitment

The stories of devotees Noel Soriano, Eduardo Orais Jr., and Cedric Cruz, like those of countless other Catholic faithful, show how faith, devotion, and sacrifice intertwine for the mamamasan, sustaining a centuries-old tradition that continues to inspire millions.

Soriano became a mamamasan in 1983. His older brother, also a devotee, told him that Jesus the Nazarene always granted prayers – not immediately, but in due time.

A college graduate with no job experience, Soriano joined the procession, praying: “Please, can You give me a job? Any kind of work will do, I am not choosy.”

Shortly after, his cousin asked if he was looking for work and not choosy. That led him to a job in the hotel industry. That made Soriano make a panata (vow) to help carry the image during processions as long as he was able. He also promised to train his son to take his place when he could no longer participate.

Soriano religiously joined the January 9 feast day and Good Friday processions. Leaving home early, he would walk barefoot with his group. Amid the crowd, each group strives for a turn to pull the rope that moves the float bearing the Nazareno forward.

Soriano described the crowd’s movements as synchronized chaos: an expert in each group maneuvers into gaps between bodies, leading the way as others push forward. There’s barely any space between people; someone’s face may press against another’s neck, and bodies are tightly packed. Because of this, participants avoid wearing belts, which could hurt others, and go barefoot to prevent losing footwear in the tumult.

Despite the seeming disorder, there is a rhythm. A whistle signals the lifting of the platform as those in front pull the ropes and others behind push. The procession moves forward slowly, repeating this process. Challenges arise when the rope twists into a figure “8” and risks breaking, which requires constant attention to keep it straight and taut.

The devotion spans generations. After a 12-year career in the hotel industry and years as a parish staff member, Soriano has passed on the tradition to his son, Lean, who joins processions as a mamamasan.

Healing and health

At seven years old, Eduardo Orais Jr. was diagnosed with tuberculosis. A frail child, he heard from his father and relatives about the miracles attributed to the Black Nazarene and asked to visit the basilica in Quiapo.

When his grandfather in Saudi Arabia learned of his desire, he sent cloth for a uniform. By age 8, Orais began attending Mass and processions on Good Friday, January 1, and January 9.

Initially walking behind the image to avoid the crowd, he eventually became a mamamasan.

Waking up before dawn, Orais would put on pants secured with a plastic string and bring a small towel before walking to Quiapo Church. In earlier years, he said, devotees waited for the Mass to end before the image emerged, but now, eager participants sometimes pull the image out before the final blessing.

Along the procession route, he said, strangers would offer devotees water, food, and even money. 

Orais expressed gratitude to the Nazarene for his livelihood: creating floral arrangements for church altars and floats, which has helped him support relatives through school.

Each year, after a grueling day, Orais returns home with dirty feet and a sore body. Yet, after a brief rest, his exhaustion lifts. 

“God will give you relief if you are focused and pray fervently as you go about the devotion,” Orais said. “You must thank God and not let other thoughts distract you during the procession.”

Back from the brink

For Cedric Cruz, devotion to the Black Nazarene began on March 7, 2011 – the day his mother suffered a stroke and fell into a coma. Distraught, he walked barefoot with his wife’s relatives in their parish procession while praying fervently.

At his mother’s hospital bedside, Cruz placed a small towel he had used to wipe the Nazarene image on her head. Exactly two weeks later, as the family prepared for the 3 o’clock Prayer, she opened her eyes and looked directly at him. Initially thinking he was imagining it, Cruz said he realized his mother was conscious. That day, the family prayed in thanksgiving.

Doctors had issued a “do not resuscitate” order and believed she wouldn’t recover. However, after months of therapy, she regained her health and returned to work. Cruz attributed her full recovery to a miracle and his devotion.

”I believe that being a devotee depends on a person’s sincerity and it is an expression of one’s faith. As long as you participate fervently and prayerfully, then God will appreciate your sacrifice,” he said. – Rappler.com

* Statements in Filipino have been translated into English for brevity.