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By Jellyn Gueco
It was at 3 p.m. on a nondescript Thursday afternoon when I first met Ruben Enaje, the man renowned for having been crucified 35 times. Talking with him face to face, I barely recognized him—his long hair tied up behind his head, and his salt-and-pepper beard giving him a somewhat retro-hipster look, far removed from the Christ-like images taken of him during the Senakulo every Good Friday in the City of San Fernando, Pampanga.

As I watched him sitting in his backyard, a black wooden cross behind him, it suddenly dawned on me that this 65-year-old man is almost double the age of Jesus Christ when He was crucified more than two thousand years ago. But unlike Christ, who did it once to save humanity, Tatang Ben, as he is fondly called by the locals, made a solemn vow to do it year after year.
‘As it was in the beginning…’
If there’s one question people ask Tatang Ben all the time, it’s why he does it. Why would any sane person voluntarily drill three-inch steel nails into their hands and feet, risking serious injuries—and possibly death—in the process? It was a question I had to ask as we began our conversation.
I did not expect, however, that Tatang Ben’s panata (devotion) was not born from a fervent prayer request but rather from deep gratitude for a second chance at life. In 1985, he suffered an accident when he fell from a three-story pala-pala (scaffolding) while working as a signboard painter for a soft drinks brand.

As he was falling, he recalled that the only words he could utter were “Diyos ko,” thinking it was the end. But when he survived the accident unscathed—no wounds, no broken bones—he made a vow to offer a form of sacrifice through crucifixion.
In 1986, 26-year-old Ruben experienced his first crucifixion, barely feeling anything as nails struck his palms. He was just one of the men from Barangay San Pedro Cutud who were nailed to the cross that year. It took another 15 years before Tatang Ben was given the coveted Kristo role in the village's reenactment of the Passion and Death of Jesus Christ.
‘Into Your hands, I commend my spirit…’
As Tatang Ben recounted stories from his many years of being crucified, he gestured with his hands—and I noticed his palms barely bore any scars. No obvious signs of being nailed to the cross many, many times. When I asked about it, he gamely held up his age-battered hands, showing me the exact spots where the stainless steel nails had been driven into his flesh.

“I don’t really know why I don’t scar,” Tatang Ben said. “Some of the other men who get crucified develop wounds that turn dark, and some even get keloid scars. In all the years I’ve been doing this, I never really had any serious health issues. It usually takes me three days to one week to heal the wounds—then I’m back to work,” he said with a shrug.
I found it ironic that, as a signboard painter, his hands are his livelihood. So every time he is nailed to the cross, he’s risking not only his health but also his ability to work. But for Tatang Ben, it’s a small sacrifice compared to the many blessings he believes the Lord has provided him through the years.
‘Crucify Him, crucify Him!’
The Holy Week crucifixion rites, known in San Fernando, Pampanga as Maleldo, have become an annual attraction for both international and local tourists. The city government supports the event by providing health, safety, and security assistance to the penitents. Despite its popularity, Tatang Ben admits he still receives his fair share of criticism. Now, in the age of social media, he’s exposed to more hate messages and mockery, with people accusing him of doing it for fame or money.

In the past, he recalled, a Catholic priest once blocked the flagellants and penitents during a street procession, demanding they stop. The priest argued there was no need to hurt themselves since Jesus already suffered for us on the cross.
But despite the criticism, Tatang Ben remains steadfast in his faith, saying his panata is a deeply personal promise to God—not for public approval. He did reveal, however, that not everyone who gets nailed to the cross is a true devotee.
“Some of the younger men in other towns are doing it as a business, receiving money in exchange for performing in the crucifixion rites,” Tatang Ben said. “This gives a bad image to the devotion and tradition, affecting volunteers like us who do it out of pure faith.”
‘Do this in memory of Me’
As one of the oldest men still being crucified, Tatang Ben believes that doing this with sincere intentions brings blessings. He’s enjoyed good health, steady work, and a loving family. He fondly shared that he has seven grandchildren who are amazed whenever they see his videos on YouTube, showing him crucified like Jesus Christ.
But he also mentioned that some of the men he knew who did the crucifixion solely for money encountered health issues, fell victim to scams, and ultimately struggled to continue the tradition. “Your intentions have to be from the heart because it’s your own body that you’re offering,” he stated firmly. “For me, this is a holy ritual.”
This year, Tatang Ben will once again walk the Via Crucis as Kristo—and for the 36th time, he will be nailed to the cross at 3 p.m. on Good Friday. When I asked if he felt happy when people called him Kristo, he admitted that it left him feeling awkward and self-conscious.
“I always remind them that there is only one Kristo, and that is our Lord Jesus Christ.”