The Funeral of the ‘Dead Christ’. Power and Intimacy in the Christian Philippines (Fenella Cannell, 1999)

The Funeral of the ‘Dead Christ’. Power and Intimacy in the Christian Philippines (Fenella Cannell, 1999)

Bella Bolayon

In “Power and Intimacy in the Christian Philippines,” Fenella-Cannell posits that the Bicolano cult of Amang Hinulid “the dead Christ” connects the religious with the familial by constructing Lent as an intimate funeral experience, wherein religious observers feel personally and familially tied to the death of Christ. Cannell explores this argument by first illustrating the shrine of Amang Hinulid (colloquially known as Ama), a formidable statue of Christ placed in an ornately carved and painted tomb with glass paneling. The Christ figure itself is mestizo (of white Spanish appearance) with markedly European features. Caretakers of the Ama change its garments frequently, and pilgrims donate their hair to fashion a human-like wig for the statue. Cannell asserts that the behaviors and traditions surrounding the “pitying” of the Ama directly translate to Bicolano funeral practices. Through a discussion of the funeral of a local Bicolano woman, Catalina Dominguez, Cannell outlines the immense grief and manambitan (ritual weeping) that occurs at the funeral. As Dominguez’s mother weeps and hauntingly chants a final goodbye to her daughter, it evokes a similar cadence to that of the Bicolano Pasyon, an epic narrative of the death of Christ told through a ritualistic chanting during Holy Week. Furthermore, using the same orientation towards familial and religious intimacy, Cannell notes that Bicolano families take ownership of the miracle-granting Ama and care for it as if it were a living human being. The bathing of the Ama draws in the especially pious, along with “healers” and “mediums” who feel spiritually connected to the Ama.


Overall, Cannell’s piece operates as observational writing: she takes a particular element of culture (in this case, the Ama and Holy Week in Bicol) and leads the reader on a descriptive tour of the subject. While Cannell condenses an array of religious dense practices in a span of ten pages, the writing often feels rushed and detached; in the case of the funeral of Catalina Dominguez, the mother’s immense grief is reduced to an opportunity to explain what manambitan means. Furthermore, while Cannell helps the reader visualize the intensity, ritualism, and familiarity of the veneration of the Ama, several moments lack nuance and critical analysis. Notably, Cannell fails to discuss or acknowledge the syncretism at play in Bicolano Catholicism. The personification of the Ama as a mystic or shaman is reminiscent of pre-colonial Animism and Anito, Indigenous beliefs that assert that objects, places, and things are endowed with spiritual worth. Anito, in particular, emphasizes the embodiment of spirits and deities into statues, not dissimilar to that of the Ama. The connection between Indigenous religion and Catholic iconography reminds us of how Spanish missionaries wove elements of Native religions into Catholicism in order to attract non-Christians into Christianity. For instance, in Mexico, the Virgin of Guadalupe pervades visual and Catholic culture. While la Virgen was first depicted as a Native woman, appealing to the matrilineal nature of Native communities, her image has been whitewashed over centuries. Now, the image of La Virgen de Guadalupe does not reflect its Indigenous history. While the origins of the Amang Hinulid are murkier than that of La Virgen, it is clear that there was intentionality behind carving the Ama in the image of whiteness that dominates the visual religiosity of Bicol. Additionally, the chanting in the Pasyon and Tanggal demonstrate a connection to Indigenous vocal tradition. In conversations with my own Bicolano family, they describe the performance of the Pasyon as more than a flat reading; my dad calls it a “cultural intonation” that is indelible to the Bikol language. 

Though the piece has its pitfalls, Cannell does a thorough job of discussing the idea of community in Bicol by way of describing herak, or “pity.” According to Cannell, pity can create intimacy, power, and community. People are bound and broken by pity, the capacity to fully feel pain. This framework of herak as both a communal and intimate process helps the reader understand the implications of religious rituals (especially concerning death) in Bicol.


Questions

  1. What role does Catholicism in Bicol play in Indigenous erasure? How does religion both create and destroy community  and collective memory?

  2. How can the framework of herak (pity) be applied to postcolonial reimaginings of Filipino culture?


Quotes

  •  “Like all Filipino saints, he is European, or as Filipinos say, mestizo in appearance, with pale skin, bony features and a ‘high’ nose, and long wavy brown hair.” p.165
  • “Ritual weeping at the burial is necessary, but it is also deeply disturbing.” p.167
  •  “The Amang Hinulid, therefore, is even more than some Filipino saints in some ways a person, who has not only been seen and spoken to by living people, but has been nurtured, adopted, and literally brought up by Bicolano families..” p.173
  •  “…pity is the emotion which draws you closer, either when you pity or when you are pitied, and pity for the dead is dangerous for the living.” p.181

Comments

Bella,

This was an excellent summary and a careful critique of Cannell’s text. Your explanation of the role Indigenous beliefs play in Bicolano Catholicism is fascinating– I had no idea! I, too, wondered about Cannell’s usage of Catalina’s funeral– specifically, her quick description of what was clearly a painful experience for Catalina’s family, only to then sharply move into a dense exposition of the Ama with little analysis (it seems to me here that an approach that hews more closely to what Conklin took in describing Maling’s family might have been more effective here?). I would’ve liked Cannell to expand on her argument that pity is an affective contract that binds people (what she interestingly calls a “devotional contract). What might it mean to break such a contract in which one is not only bound to the living, but also to Christ so that one may transform oneself to be more Christlike (182)?

Bella,

You raise really interesting points about some of the drawbacks to Cannell’s descriptive style–how it comes across as rushed or detatched. I agree, and in many ways I think this is a weakness of a lot of ethnographic description of religious and ritual life. I personally have often dreaded reading descriptions of rituals because they are so detailed but then also so dry. How is it possible for a text to turn such vibrant life into something so tough to read. I think you might be on to something when you focus on the key element missing, which is the affect of these kinds of spaces.

That said, your points about syncretism are precisely why I actually value this text quite a bit, because it shows how there some clearly “imported” iconography and symbolism at the same time that there is an entirely local religious system into which this is also entangled. What influences what is complex and in contemporary life inseparable. In some way, one might say this is all captured in the spelling of Pasyon as Pasion in Bicol. It is “the same” but then again it is totally not the same.

Finally, given what you say about flatness in the writing, and also what you highlight about the importance of “pity”, it would be interesting to imagine how one might convey in writing the affective power of a concept like that. How, as a writer, might you draw it out in ways that this text wants to do, but does not fully achieve?

Author: 
Bella Bolayon