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Sunday, January 16, 2005
Obenieta: Dance fever
By Myke U. Obenieta
Sun.star essay
Clutching the candles aloft while swaying to the tune of a wish, the old women in front of the Basilica Minore del Sto. Niño would have caught the fancy of funny man Groucho Marx. But what could give him fulfillment, however, is no laughing matter in the movie Duck Soup when his yearning defined the extent of his despair. “I could dance with you till the cows come home,” he intoned like a devotee solemn with a promise. “Better still, I’ll dance with the cows till you come home.”
No different from a herd driven or prompted for pasture, the pilgrimage as choreographed in today’s grand parade is also fueled not only by the impulse to belong. Or to bask in the warmth of complicity with the crowd. That, yes, but also the need to seek, to find and to feed on the stuff that sustains us.
But wait. Are we really at home with the green, green grass of faith?
Infidels, or so Mayor Tomas Osmeña could have cussed at some Sinulog participants. That there’s a dwindling number of Sinulog contingents this year is something he prefers, he averred. It seemed to him there has been less priority in the devotion of the Sto. Niño. “Sometimes,” he lamented, “some entries are getting to be too ridiculous already that the event gets too highly commercialized.” He could be amused at Groucho Marx, but not in seeing floats promoting a movie. Or contingents throwing t-shirts, shampoos and condoms to spectators.
Are we watching the Sinulog dancers more for their performance and less for the meditation embodied in their movements? What if the performers pray only to win the parade’s grand prize? If “all the dancers’ gestures are signs of things,” as St. Augustine affirmed, what else are these orchestrations of one-upmanship telling us?
As all roads lead to “tripping the light fantastic” in honor of the Holy Child, it’s open sesame as well for the dance of the seven evils no less seductive as the veils of Salome. Consider this:
Pride. With our applause, we could have ensconced on the altar those who are pumped up for publicity while flaunting their supremacy. We don’t sing alleluia to losers, do we?
Envy. Green is the eye of the less endowed beholder as the enticements of the advertising industry loom large on billboards of models in perfect shape flaunting what’s fashionable. Slurp, too, at the streamers hyping the latest gadgets.
Anger. Do you have the heart to see the face of Jesus in every pickpocket reportedly coming in droves to prey on the spectators? Would you flash the Sto. Niño’s V-sign, instead of your dirty finger, in the face of the drunk reveler spewing vomit at you?
Greed. Definitely on a vibrator mode are the vendors along the parade route. Grin and bear their ode to overpricing.
Gluttony. Does sipping chicken soup for the soul suffice enough? Food is everywhere, hello!
Sloth. Who’s spared from the muscle strain and hangover the day after? No class, no work. Or so you dream while spilling your spittle on the pillow. Snore on.
Lust. Look who’s taking their shirts off in the heat of bodies pressed together as the throng goes along the beat of gyrating grand parade participants.
Ritual of concentration, all the chanting and the dancing. Something to take our cue from in these days of dissonance when words and deeds are out of sync. Something, indeed, to get us back into the rhythm of the sacramental at a time when it’s no sweat to lose one’s faith, for instance, in small gods of governance.
Timing is of the essence. To animate the people and their leaders, former president Fidel Ramos wished for the spirit of synchronicity.
On his recent visit to Cebu, Ramos hoped the “weapons of mass upliftment”— education, innovation and teamwork— will be harmonized against the country’s evils: poverty, disunity, selfishness and complacency.
To perform while praying, to pray while performing. If that happens, he assured, within reach is the realization of a higher quality of life. Yes, to set in motion a condition of grace.
Such is the wisdom of the whirling dervishes, a Sufi sect influenced by the Persian mystic and poet Rumi. Thus he believed, “Whosoever knoweth the power of the dance, dwelleth in God.”
(January 16, 2005 issue)
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