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Traditions

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One of the signs that a person is advancing in age is how traditions are viewed.

When we were kids, we would take part in family traditions without really knowing the meaning behind it. As we grow older, we try to avoid it, telling ourselves we have better things to do. And then, as the previous generation starts to pass the baton as the years pass, we suddenly find ourselves in the position of guardians, now the ones who have to see to it that the tradition is somehow preserved and passed on.

I thought about this because on Sunday, my family took part in its San Jose tradition, which for the first time in 3 years, was held in its original location, which is our grandparent’s home, although with far less of its original guardians present.

For those who are unfamiliar with it, the feast of San Jose (St. Joseph) is celebrated every March 19. During that day, some families gather to observe a tradition where an elder man, a young lady, and a small boy role play as the holy family, as St. Joseph, the Virgin Mary, and the child Jesus, respectively. In our case, they are dressed in costume and led to a table where their hands are washed, they are spoon fed by members of the clan, and then everyone lines up to pay respects and give a gift to the “Holy Family”, all while a novena to St. Joseph is being sung.

Seeing members of my generation organizing the event for the first time, made me realize that we are already in that stage. I now belong to the batch that is trying to preserve and continue family traditions. 

So, as we prepared for the event, we were looking for the bag where the costumes are kept, we tried to remember and ask how the sequence went, we had to look for the words to the novena and remember how it was sung. Throughout all that, we relied on advisers from the older generation, who taught us how to get the sequence and rituals right, and run the event as smoothly as we remembered. These were things we never had to do when we only attended and they were in charge. Now it seems like we are the elders.

Sunday’s San Jose showed me just how fragile traditions can be. All it takes if for a generation to forget about it, and it can be gone forever.

If you come to think of it, the 2-year break caused by the COVID pandemic really tested a lot of family traditions. In the case of our San Jose, I think it was essentially cancelled in 2020 and 2021, had a partial comeback at a different location in 2022, and was finally able to make a full comeback to its original location in 2023. There were far less people in attendance than I remembered it from my childhood and its pre-pandemic versions, but it was essentially the same and it was nice to see it being preserved by my generation who could’ve chosen to forget about it.

I’m sure that there are many other obscure family traditions out there that have been threatened with extinction by different factors, not only the pandemic, but also by the failure to pass the torch, which can be the fault of either the current torch bearers, or the ones it was passed to. And considering how intricate some traditions can be, it becomes important for families to have a system for passing on the details to keep it alive.

The most important factor in ensuring the survival of family traditions is that it must first be appreciated by the succeeding generations that are supposed to inherit it. If they don’t see the significance of the rituals and traditions, there would be no reason to keep it going. This takes some time to percolate, in my case around 30 years, but if the tradition is consistently practiced, its value should seep through to the succeeding line.

Aside from that, there is also the issue of funding, especially if the tradition is elaborate and requires an annual budget, which is usually the case when large gatherings and food is involved. Whoever will be assigned the responsibility of keeping it alive will need to be backed financially by the family. If not, that job will inevitably be passed around like a hot potato, dropped, kicked away, and eventually forgotten.

This weekend, I was able to witness how my parents’ generation was somehow able to pass on the tradition to my generation, even if there was no structured plan to see it through. I’m fairly confident that we can keep it alive, at least for this generation. What kind of steward we will be, we will know in around 20-30 years, if someone from my kids’ generation will choose to pick up the baton.*

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