Oh My Jesus …
By Thy Crown of ThornsIt was past eight o’clock in the evening when we arrived at the house of Nana Hina. There was hardly any space in the crowded living room and a table had been placed near the small balcony for the traditional repast.
We climbed up the stairs and an altar came to view. The women were at prayer, and Tonio and I momentarily surrendered ourselves to the gentle sound of the plaintive invocations.
For a few moments, verses from the novena prayers flooded my mind: “Open, my Lord, our lips, let our spirit move forward and cleanse it from senseless, impure, erroneous desires ….”
The altar was neat and pleasing to the eyes. With the help of a white piece of cloth, kamuning leaves and sheathings from a banana trunk, the altar took on an appearance enticing the
