Introduction
In the Philippines, Holy Week is not only a sacred time for reflection but also a vivid expression of religious devotion unlike anywhere else in the world. Every year, as Catholics commemorate the suffering and death of Jesus Christ, certain communities mark Good Friday with intense public re-enactments—including the actual nailing of devotees to wooden crosses. One man has become the face of this tradition: 64-year-old Ruben Enaje.
For the 36th consecutive year, Enaje was nailed to a cross during a ritual held in San Pedro Cutud, Pampanga, drawing thousands of spectators from around the globe. His unwavering commitment to this physically and emotionally grueling act represents a deep-rooted belief system that continues to shape Filipino identity and spiritual life.
The Story of Ruben Enaje
Ruben Enaje is no stranger to pain or pilgrimage. A native of San Pedro Cutud, he first participated in the crucifixion ritual in the 1980s after surviving a life-threatening fall. What began as a vow of gratitude has evolved into a lifelong calling.
Now a grandfather of seven, Enaje admits his age is catching up with him. He recently shaved 10 kilograms off the 37-kilogram cross he traditionally carries through the village, noting, “The cross has become too heavy for me to carry.” Still, he pushed forward, determined to fulfill what he considers a sacred duty.
Ritual in San Pedro Cutud
The quiet village of San Pedro Cutud becomes the epicenter of media attention every Good Friday. Located about 60 kilometers north of Manila, it hosts the Philippines’ most famous crucifixion reenactment, which attracts both the faithful and the curious.
The day begins with a theatrical Passion play performed by locals, culminating in the live crucifixions. Participants don crowns of thorns, carry wooden crosses, and are nailed through their hands and feet in a dramatic portrayal of Jesus’ final hours. The event is heavily attended, with large crowds and security to maintain order.
A Tradition Rooted in Faith and Pain
For many Filipinos, this isn’t performance—it’s prayer. These acts are seen as modern expressions of age-old penance and sacrifice. Participants often do it as thanksgiving for blessings, to seek healing, or to fulfill personal vows. In this context, pain becomes a vehicle of purification and spiritual transformation.
Bloodied backs from self-flagellation and the sound of hammers driving nails into flesh are not meant to shock but to sanctify. It is through suffering that these devotees believe they become closer to the divine.
Other Devotees and Their Stories
Ruben Enaje is not alone in his commitment. Joselito Capili, a 60-year-old part-time construction worker, was crucified for the 20th time this year. His devotion began in 2002 when his father was diagnosed with cancer. Though his father passed away, Capili continued, saying, “We are all healthy… but I’m afraid I won’t be able to do this much longer.”
Many others follow suit, each with their own story of struggle, sacrifice, or salvation. These men and women come not for fame but for faith. Their anonymity, in contrast to the spectacle, emphasizes that this is not about recognition—it’s about redemption.
Cultural and Religious Origins of the Practice
The crucifixion rituals trace their roots back to Spanish colonization, when Catholicism became deeply interwoven with Filipino life. Over centuries, Holy Week evolved to include public demonstrations of piety, blending indigenous belief systems with Christian teachings.
Penitensya, or acts of penance, became a way for ordinary people to demonstrate their devotion through physical suffering, paralleling Christ’s own passion. These acts have endured through generations, morphing into the elaborate reenactments we see today.
The Role of the Catholic Church
While the Catholic Church acknowledges the deep faith behind these rituals, it officially discourages them. Church officials advocate for more symbolic acts of devotion such as fasting, prayer, and almsgiving.
However, the Church rarely intervenes in the actual performances. Many clergy take a pastoral stance, offering medical aid or spiritual counseling rather than condemnation. The tolerance reflects an understanding of the cultural layers underpinning the ritual.
Public Perception and Media Attention
Globally, reactions to the crucifixion rites are mixed. Some see them as barbaric or excessive, while others view them as powerful testaments of living faith. Media coverage tends to focus on the graphic nature of the rituals, often missing the deeper spiritual context.
Locally, however, many Filipinos admire the participants for their commitment. Some even consider them modern-day martyrs. But there is also a rising generation that questions whether such extreme displays are still necessary in today’s world.
Physical Toll and Preparation
The crucifixion takes a heavy physical toll. Participants undergo weeks of preparation, including fasting and prayer. Nails are sterilized and inserted by trained assistants to avoid serious infection, but the pain and risk remain substantial.
Older devotees like Enaje and Capili speak openly about dizziness, fatigue, and muscle strain. Yet they continue, believing their suffering serves a higher purpose.
Government and Tourism Dynamics
Local governments manage crowd control and sanitation during the events, recognizing their potential as tourist attractions. The influx of visitors boosts local economies, with vendors selling food, drinks, and religious items.
Tourism boards walk a fine line between promoting cultural heritage and avoiding accusations of exploiting faith. Nonetheless, the annual event has put San Pedro Cutud on the global map.
The Heat Factor: Climate and Risk
This year’s rituals occurred under extreme heat, with temperatures soaring past 40°C. The weather added another layer of danger to already risky acts, prompting health warnings from authorities.
Despite the heat, the show went on. Some participants fainted, while others powered through, covered in sweat, blood, and determination. Volunteers were stationed with water and medical supplies, though risks remained.
Faith, Fasting, and Family
Behind every crucified man is a supportive (and often worried) family. While some relatives participate in other roles, others watch in quiet fear. For them, each year is a gamble between pride and concern.
Families also play a crucial part in post-event care. Wounds must be cleaned and monitored to prevent complications. Children grow up seeing their fathers or uncles reenact Christ’s death, absorbing a faith that is both inherited and performed.
Modern Interpretations of Devotion
Not all expressions of faith are as extreme. Many Filipinos now opt for symbolic fasting, community service, or digital retreats. The younger generation—while respectful—often prefers less physically taxing practices.
Holy Week still matters, but its forms are diversifying. Social media campaigns, virtual masses, and reflection journals are emerging as modern tools for spiritual connection.
Beyond Religion: The Spectacle Debate
As the crucifixions gain global visibility, critics argue the rituals border on spectacle. Are they acts of devotion or public theater? Where does the line lie between faith and exhibition?
Ethical debates abound. Some call for stricter regulation or even bans. Others defend the rituals as living traditions that deserve respect, not ridicule. It’s a debate with no easy answers.
The Future of Filipino Crucifixion Rituals
With aging devotees and changing values, the future of crucifixion rituals is uncertain. Will someone take Enaje’s place when he can no longer perform? Will the tradition evolve into symbolic representations?
There’s no definitive answer. What’s clear is that these rites have become part of Filipino identity—a mirror of a people’s resilience, devotion, and spiritual imagination.
Conclusion
The image of Ruben Enaje nailed to a cross for the 36th time is more than a viral photo. It’s a symbol of a nation grappling with faith, tradition, and modernity. Through him, we glimpse a culture that honors sacrifice, values heritage, and continues to search for meaning in both suffering and salvation.
In the Philippines, Holy Week is not just observed—it is lived. And in that living, pain and piety walk hand in hand.
FAQs:
Why do Filipinos get nailed to crosses during Holy Week? As an act of religious devotion, penance, or thanksgiving, inspired by Christ’s crucifixion.
Who is Ruben Enaje? A 64-year-old man from San Pedro Cutud who has been crucified annually for 36 years.
Does the Catholic Church support this practice? The Church does not officially encourage it but largely tolerates it as a cultural tradition.
How do participants prepare for crucifixion? Through fasting, prayer, and physical training. Nails are sterilized and precautions are taken.
Is the tradition declining? Participation may decline due to aging devotees, but younger generations continue to support the ritual in other forms.
