The best holy week hacks
Holy Week—Don’t you wish it could be every day?
Lent begins with Ash Wednesday, that solemn day when a priest presses a cross of ashes onto your forehead, ushering in 40 days of reflection, repentance, and—let’s be honest—strategic meal planning. It’s a season of sacrifice, a time to pause and evaluate one’s spiritual life. But it’s also about loopholes, guilt-tripping, and self-negotiation.

Take the ashes, for example. What if an inconvenient zit happens to be exactly where the priest is about to apply them? Does divine intervention heal it or make it worse? And what if, mid-application, an ill-timed sneeze sends the ashes flying—is that a sign from above?
Then there’s the forehead-wiping dilemma: how long must one bear the smudged mark of piety before it’s socially acceptable to remove it? Some wear it like a badge of Catholic honor; the darker and more defined, the better. Others, meanwhile, spend the day navigating between devotion and the very human urge to avoid awkward stares from those unfamiliar with the tradition. These are the deep theological questions no one seems to answer.

Fasting? That’s easy—that is, if you’re like me who has been doing intermittent fasting for a while now. And yet, Lenten sacrifices aren’t just about food. Some brave souls give up social media, caffeine, alcohol, sex, E-cigs or, unthinkably, Netflix. Others resolve to be kinder, more patient, or to watch the daily road rage language à la Captain America, only to forget by the second week. It’s like making a New Year’s resolution under heavenly oath. And if you skip fasting or abstinence altogether, does it still count? The outs in Lent are infinite, my friends.
If there’s one thing we can all probably agree on, it’s that swapping ‘The Ten Commandments’ for ‘Game of Thrones’ or ‘The Lord of the Rings’ doesn’t seem to be so sinful anymore.
Growing up, Holy Week wasn’t just about solemn reflection in our household. Sure, we had the obligatory prayers, the droning “pasyon” sung by devoted elders in the neighborhood, and a strictly enforced gadget holiday before that was even a thing. Kids weren’t allowed to play after 3 p.m. on Good Friday, the solemn (ninth) hour traditionally believed to be the time of Christ’s death.
But the real test of endurance? The television lineup (and only that!).

For an entire week, our screens were dominated by religious epics. The live Siete Palabras (Seven Last Words) aired on repeat, and reruns of The Ten Commandments and Ben-Hur—both nearly four hours long and featuring Charlton Heston—became the default programming.
And then there was Jesus of Nazareth, a hemorrhoid-inducing four-part miniseries stretching over six hours. My wife swears Robert Powell, with his piercing blue eyes and gaunt face, remains the definitive Jesus.
Watching these marathon-length films—if that’s not a sacrifice, I don’t know what is. Unlike today’s effortless bingeing, this required true stamina. Maybe parents should subject their kids to the same experience for full character-building immersion. Then again, modern kids (and their parents, for that matter) might not survive such self-inflicted suffering.

As a movie geek, I didn’t mind these screenings, even if I always knew how they ended. By 2004, Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ entered the mix, a $30 million film that grossed over $600 million despite being entirely in reconstructed Aramaic, Hebrew and Latin. (The anti-Semitic Gibson wanted it without subtitles; thankfully, common sense prevailed).
My personal favorite, however, remains Jesus Christ Superstar. This Broadway rock opera is pure magic. I think I first watched the film adaptation when I was 10 years old, outside of Lent, and I’m convinced I absorbed more theology from it than from the Bible itself—especially since my earnest attempts to read the scriptures always stalled at Genesis. Then there’s The Robe, where Jesus wasn’t exactly the superstar, but Richard Burton, playing the conflicted Roman tribune Marcellus Gallio, certainly was.
For many Filipinos, though, Holy Week isn’t just about spiritual renewal; it’s also a much-anticipated vacation. Right after Christmas, people start plotting their getaways—beaches, mountains, or anywhere that screams “escape.” Gen Xers like myself often get swept into the travel frenzy by younger, adventure-hungry companions.
If you’re planning a local trip, prepare for hordes of non-religious pilgrims. International travel? Expect airport chaos and an influx of Catholic tourists at every major pilgrimage site. It’s probably the best and worst time to visit Vatican City, Lourdes, Fatima, or embark on the Camino de Santiago.

Even Visita Iglesia—traditionally a solemn church-hopping ritual for many families—has evolved into a full-fledged road trip, complete with snack breaks and Instagram-worthy stops.
But the best Holy Week hack in my book? Simply stay put. Use the time to reflect and meditate at home, or simply savor the rare luxury of traffic-free roads. And thanks to modern technology, we’re no longer bound to the ancient Holy Week TV lineup. Now, we have Netflix, Prime, Disney+, Max, Viu, Apple TV, and an endless sea of streaming choices.
If there’s one thing we can all probably agree on, it’s that swapping The Ten Commandments for Game of Thrones or The Lord of the Rings doesn’t seem to be so sinful anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if Holy Week were every day, we’d all be a little more reflective, a little more introspective, and—dare I say it?—a little more grateful for the simpler things in life.