The sun was still not up when I woke up. I decided to wake up early to reheat the Kaldereta that I cooked for my parents. Kaldereta won't go bad even without putting it in the fridge that fast, so it is still edible.
At this time, people start to prepare for work, laundry, or to just laze around. My parents were still asleep, which is kind of weird since they mostly wake up around this time.
"Maybe because they were really that tired yesterday. Yesterday was the worst day ever. Imagine seeing someone wanting to kill you and you have to eat dinner with him."
I am quite lucky that he didn't bring that shit up to my parents. Or else I'll be beaten to death by my father.
Man, how unlucky I've become.
A few minutes passed as I cooked fried rice and reheated the food. My parents finally woke up. You could see the shock on their faces, for this might be the first time I've done it for them.
"Hey, what is the occasion? Where did you get this?" Mother asked.
My father was certainly curious as well.
Now there is a problem. I can't tell them that I hid food from the visitors, because that is not a proper way to treat them. But I also can't say that I am in bad blood with that kid.
"Nothing. I cooked it for you guys. Let's eat while it's still hot."
I decided to dodge this bullet for now.
We ate the food at the table. My mother was especially pleased with my cooking. We talked for a little while, but for some reason my father was not in his game right now. He constantly looked dazed, as if he was thinking of something.
"We should attend the Mass today," my father finally spoke.
You could see a hint of determination in his eyes as he ate my food.
"By the way, Brier, when did you learn how to cook?"
Noticing the situation was not going well, my father started to shift our focus. He looked like he was finally okay.
"I learned it during TLE. My teacher is really good at teaching. How do you rate my cooking then?" I asked.
"Well, about a few hundred kilometers away from your mother's cooking, hahahaha."
He laughed.
We continued to eat as we joked with each other for a while longer. Our breakfast was always this full.
After we ate, we started to prepare to attend the Mass. I just wore a simple Penshoppe shirt. This shirt was once featured by the famous boy band One Direction. My mother bought this for me during the Christmas season. It is my favorite shirt right now.
After I was done preparing, my father and I waited for my mother outside.
She always takes her time when preparing to leave like this. She always tells me that we are judged by how we look. So we always have to be in our best form whenever we go outside.
After half an hour of waiting outside the house, I finally heard my mother's footsteps inside. My father started the tricycle, clearly excited that we were finally leaving.
---
We rode my father's tricycle on the way to the church. It was only about a 15-minute ride. The church was one of the oldest churches in our province.
Elders say that this church was built using wood from one big tree back in time. Maybe that is the reason why our place became famous for its carpentry and sculptures. Or maybe not. I don't know.
Either way, churches like this carry a history.
Religion has always been a sensitive topic in the Philippines. After all, our country lived under Spanish rule for more than three hundred years. Christianity was brought with them sometimes peacefully, sometimes not. But most Filipinos know that we didn't have it easy back in the day.
Even now, people still argue about religion online and in real life. But no matter what our beliefs are, when outsiders attack it, Filipinos somehow stand on the same side.
"That is the lesson we learned from those 333 long years under Spanish rule."
We sat in the last row of the church. We always do it because this is the best row. When we have to leave after Mass, we won't experience traffic on the way out.
"Brier don't go anywhere now you have to finish this mass. Going to CR won't work anymore with me." my mother warns me.
Well that is what I always did in my previous life. Once inside I always move to the garden of the churches and play with the other bored children out there. However, I am different now. I am an adult inside this younger body. I can bear with this ceremony well.
"I know, I know I replied." My mother was really not having any of my replies. But she just let it go because the ceremony was about to start.
A few minutes after that
The Mass started, which made the whole place quiet. The ceremony then started: the choir sang, people read verses, and finally it was the sermon of the priest.
At the front, the priest opened the Bible slowly. The sound of the pages turning echoed through the hall.
He looked at the congregation before beginning to read.
"Then one of the Twelve
the one called Judas Iscariot
went to the chief priests and asked, 'What are you willing to give me if I deliver him to you?'
And they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver."
Matthew 26:14–15
The priest closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again.
"Betrayal," he said softly, "does not always come from strangers. Sometimes it comes from the people closest to us. Judas was not an enemy of Jesus. He was one of His disciples. He walked with Him, ate with Him, and listened to His teachings."
"The Mass is always like this. Every time I attend, the word of God really reverberates in our bodies. We always hear what we don't want to hear. I don't know why, but it always hits you like the priest intentionally made it for you," I told myself.
Yesterday I hurt someone for my own benefit. I lied to the guard so that he could protect me. This morning I lied to my parents that I hid the food from the visitors.
So how can you know all of that like you're just beside me when I did it?
I quietly thought to myself.
A quiet murmur passed through the church before fading again. Maybe I am not the only one who was hit by today's sermon.
"And yet," the priest continued, "for thirty pieces of silver, he chose to betray the man who trusted him."
He paused, letting the silence sink into the room.
"Many people ask why Judas did it. Was it greed? Fear? Desperation?"
The priest looked across the congregation slowly.
"But perhaps the better question is this… how many times have we betrayed others in small ways?"
Some people lowered their heads.
"Through lies, through selfishness, through choosing our own benefit over what is right."
This priest is really creeping me out right now. They simply have this power to read what is in my heart and mind.
He closed the Bible gently.
"The story of Judas is not only about betrayal. It is also a warning. Because once a sin is committed, the weight of it does not simply disappear."
His voice softened.
"Guilt follows us. Regret follows us. And sometimes, we carry that burden for the rest of our lives."
The church fell into silence again.
Somewhere in the back, someone quietly whispered a prayer.