a passion for lent.

Today, in church, I will be reading The Passion.

And I will try to read it with passion.

After all it is a celebration of the Lord’s Passion.

Therefore I call it a passion for the Passion.

It’s the first time the job of animatedly bringing to life the drama of Christ’s Passion comes to rest upon my shoulders (Think Atlas Shrugged) and already I feel the pressure mounting, that of not letting the faithful down – at least not on this hallowed day.

It’s no enormous or greatly challenging task, actually. I’ll be playing the part of the good old narrator (which is essentially no big deal), but this translates to a straight 11 pages of no-nonsense dialogues and nonstop babbling in front of a presumably bored congregation for fifteen minutes till your voice starts to croak and your mouth finally runs dry. Plus, the responsibility comes with implicit extras: The narrator controls the pacing, juxtaposes the lines with the background music, and makes sure a smooth transition is called for between changing moods and settings.

Whatever happens, there just had to be no room for flops and blunders. Not after how I patiently went through session after session of intense, rigorous practice without fail.

But then again I'm only too glad to do my part - with passion, of course.

At this point I know I'm already guilty of abusing and overusing the word "passion" - something countless people all over the world have had the passion to do. Partly blame it on the plethora of connotations it conjures up at the mere mention. Passion of Christ? Passion to succeed? Passion in bed?

Even at this time of year, folks have been more or less displaying their own unique interpretations of the passion concept. The more religious people I know have been answering their Christian passion with strict sacrifices, while the more hedonistic ones made sure their passion for a well-deserved summer escapade is amply satiated by a quick hop to Boracay. Me? I guess I'm into the whole passion thing too: Aside from a passion to give my all in The Passion, there's curtailing my carnivorous passion, nurturing a more profound passion for prayer, and getting involved in my family's yearly passion for the Vista Iglesia.

More importantly, on this day of great mercy, I'm completely overwhelmed by the sweeping passion for solemnity that I'm sure also pervaded everyone's hearts and minds. Save for echoing tunes of Mary Magdalene’s I Don’t Know How to Love Him which is typical of my passion for religious songs, things on Good Friday usually strike me as having the passion to be simple and somber. It’s a day of utmost self-introspection indeed – to examine our conscience and show our deep, abiding passion for the Lord.

The greatest human passion of them all.

Postscript: Unfortunately I had a migraine as I arrived in church at about half-past three in the afternoon. Fighting the biting temptation to bang my head against the nearest wall and have this over with, I stuck it out until the very last rite. After the mass our parish priests and several nuns congratulated my partner Charles and I for a job well done. Looks like all the passion's still worth it, after all.