MANILA, Philippines �� At 4:50 a.m., the stragglers dashed through Manila's darkened streets, hoping for a spot in the pews.
But they were too late. Hundreds of worshipers had already packed the Sto. Nino de Paz Community Greenbelt Chapel, a low, white dome in an outdoor shopping complex, for Friday's Simbang Gabi Christmas Mass.
So at least 100 more crowded on the pavement outside, singing "Glory to God" beneath a crescent moon.
Christmas in the Philippines is a long, spirited and, to many, exhausting affair. About 90 percent of Filipinos are Christian. Stores start playing Christmas music as early as September and don't stop until early January. Christmas trees spring up in malls and public parks. Carolers go door to door singing "Jingle Bells," "Silent Night" and "Ang Pasko Ay Sumapit", a lively Tagalog tune celebrating Jesus' birth. The holiday delicacy is lechon _ whole suckling pig, a Filipino delicacy.
But nothing captures the Philippines' Christmas obsession like Simbag Gabi _ nine consecutive days of early morning Mass, ending Dec. 24. Some services start as early as 3 a.m.
Portuguese and Spanish missionaries brought Christianity to the Philippines in the 16th century, and in those days most converts were farmers. The holiday fell during harvest season, so Mass began early, allowing them to tend their crops at daybreak. The tradition stuck.
Politically, the Philippines has endured an unusual and highly controversial year, casting a pall over Christmas celebrations.
President Rodrigo Duterte campaigned on promises to kill tens of thousands of criminals, and since his June inauguration, more than 6,000 suspected drug dealers and users have been shot to death by police and vigilantes.
Most were poor, and few, if any, of their killers have been brought to justice.
"I'm only human, so I'll still say Merry Christmas to drug traffickers, thieves, corrupt criminals and those who've made life hard for Filipinos," Duterte said in an early December Christmas message. "If you don't stop and the violence continues, this will be your last Merry Christmas."
Wednesday, a Simbag Gabi Mass in Laguna province, about 20 miles south of Manila, was wracked with violence. A man providing security for a Binan City church, Allan Fernandez, was on an illegal drug watch list, according to the Philippine Inquirer. A gunman on a motorcycle arrived at the Mass and opened fire, killing him and a 12-year-old girl, and wounding another bystander.
The priest reportedly ordered the church's doors closed, and the Mass proceeded.
At the Redemptorist Church in Paranaque City, near Manila, church workers installed a prominent exhibit of images from the drug war to raise awareness of its human cost. Large framed photographs line the paths near the church entrance. Some show grieving families. One shows a victim lying on the pavement next to a cardboard sign reading "pusher," his head wrapped in electrical tape.
"This is meant to mirror what is happening in our society today, even in the midst of Christmas," said Amado Picardal, a priest in the church. "During this time, you would like to awaken the conscience of our people. There are a lot of people, a lot of families, who are grieving during this period of Christmas, during this war on drugs and the extrajudicial killings, and we'd like to pray for them, and do what we can to stop the killings."
At the Greenbelt Chapel, Friday morning Mass began at 5 a.m. A white-robed priest spoke slowly and softly, drifting freely between English and Tagalog. He did not mention the drug war.
"Good morning, sisters and brothers. How are you _ surviving, or growing? There's a big difference," he said. "I ask you that question because many times we just let the days pass by without realizing how much the Lord is blessing us every night."
He went on to deliver a sermon about loving one's parents, the lessons of John the Baptist, and the "graciousness of God."
Aivee Remo, a 27-year-old banker, said this was her third year of attending every Simbag Gabi Mass. "With all the Christmas festivities, it tends to make you tired," she said. "Because you have parties, Masses, gifts _ it all adds up."
"It dies down eventually," said her husband, Don, 43, a technology worker. "Usually it stops once you've seen all your friends and relatives, in the first few weeks of January."
By 6 a.m., when the choir sang "Let's Have a Christmas Celebration," the moon was invisible, and as the sky brightened to turquoise, the crowd quietly dispersed.
