by Ambeth Ocampo
There is a shrine of sorts on Misericordia Street, near Soler in Sta. Cruz, where the Chinese come to pray, light votive candles, and at times, make offerings of food or fruit. Only recently, a tabloid claimed that this was all that remained of an old church. I beg to disagree. No church was ever built on that site; however, just before the war, a miraculous cross was found on the site or thereabouts and was very popular.
According to legend of La Cruz de Misericordia, a man fell into a busy estero where bancas carrying patis, vinegar, bagoong, and other items passed on the way to Arranque Market. He clung to a floating piece of wood to keep from drowning, and this floatsam became the cross enshrined in the little visita on Misericordia Street. There is another story that a certain Doņa Magdalena Castillo built the visita to house a cross found floating in the estero behind her house. Found by her servants while throwing the garbage, the cross was surrounded by jellyfish and stayed afloat in the same spot for days.
In 1933, an article published in The Independent complained about the fiesta atmosphere in this little sidestreet. The writer deplored the fact that he couldn’t tell whether it was November or May, as it was a curious mix of All Soul’s Day and a Santa Cruzan! The fanfare and superstition had obliterated the religiosity which once justified the practice. He wrote that fumes from hundreds of candles lit in front of the cross gave it a distinct ebony finish. Devotees were usually vendors from the nearby Arranque Market who prayed for better business; others came to pray for miraculous cures. The writer noted:
…The Filipinos would light candles, touch or kiss the cross or wipe their handkerchief on it. The Japanese, Indians and Turks would come quietly, show reverence and meditate. The Japanese didn’t light candles but the Chinese brought incense and played cara y cruz in front of the cross!
His Catholic wrath could have been tempered if he had known that coin-throwing was an ancient form of divination.
Today the place is quiet and empty; there are no fiestas nor a hundred candles. Thus, one wonders about what happened to the devotees of the cross of Misericordia. Perhaps, their prayers went unanswered, and people moved on to the Black Nazarene of Quiapo. Or maybe, with so many “cute” Sto. Niņos peddled on the streets these days, it became more convenient to pray at home. Anthropology teaches us that a ritual or a belief persists only if it is functional. Did the Misericordia cross run out of miracles?
When Philippine Daily Globe lensman Ed Santiago visited the site to take a photograph for this column, he peered though the padlocked iron gate and failed to find the cross. Perhaps this is why the place ran out of miracles. Where is the cross of Misericordia?
Republished with permission from Ambeth R. Ocampo from Bonifacio’s Bolo (Pasig: Anvil Publishing, Inc., 1995).