These Easter congregants are taking their Good Friday celebration back to the New Testament.

After a three-year hiatus due to COVID, a controversial Good Friday tradition has been resurrected.

Eight people were willingly nailed to crosses in the Philippines to commemorate Christ’s suffering as part of a lurid custom that’s been banned by the Catholic Church, as seen in videos dropping jaws online.

“I always feel nervous because I could end up dead on the cross,” 62-year-old participant Ruben Enaje told the Guardian while describing getting crucified.

The bloody ritual transpired Friday in the rural village of San Pedro Cutud in Pampanga province, marking the first time it had been performed since the start of the COVID pandemic in 2020, Storyful reported.

While at least 12 people were slated for crucifixion, only eight participated in the hardcore JC cosplay, which attracts thousands of devotees and tourists from around the world.

Accompanying videos posted to Facebook show the Roman Catholic flagellants getting fastened to the crosses.

They are then erected on a hill in front of a crowd in a scene that seems straight out of Mel Gibson’s 2004 film “Passion Of The Christ.”

Perhaps the most devoted reenactor was Enaje, who underwent his 34th, and likely last, crucifixion today.

“I really want to retire from this because of my age, but let’s see if my body can still bear the pain next year,” the painter said in a conference ahead of the ritual.

Despite being praised for his bravery, the Passion-ate penitent says he fears for his life every time he goes up on the cross.

“When I’m laid down on the cross, my body begins to feel cold,” Enaje described. “When my hands are tied, I just close my eyes and tell myself: ‘I can do this. I can do this.’”

The devout Catholic was first inspired to perform this gruesome act of penance after an alleged miracle in 1985, the Guardian reported.

He’d reportedly survived unscathed after falling from a three-story building.

The devotee continued the bizarre tradition after loved ones recovered from serious illnesses, earning himself the moniker of “Christ” during the annual reenactments.

This time around, Enaje says he’s praying for the eradication of the coronavirus and the end of the Ukraine-Russia war.

The actual crucifixion is only one part of the ritual — a hybrid of local folk beliefs and Catholicism which sees reenactors get super “method.”

Ahead of the grand finale, Enaje and his fellow flagellants are paraded through the streets for 0.6 miles while wearing thorny crowns and heavy wooden crosses on their backs à la “Ben Hur.”

Then, villagers in Roman Centurion regalia hammer 4-inch nails through their palms and feet, before standing them up on crosses in the sun for 10 minutes.

All the while, other adherents splay themselves out on the ground while villagers flog their backs bloody with makeshift bamboo flails.

This may sound offputting; however, many pilgrims claim that’s not the case.

“It’s less gruesome than people think,” said Johnson Gareth, a British tour organizer, who brings tourists from around the world to witness the crucifixions.

The cruci-fixer explained that people think it’s going to be “very macabre” or “disgusting” but it’s done in a “very respectful way.”

“I think it takes an incredible amount of dedication and commitment to really go through something like that,” said American tourist Tracy Sengillo, who saw the event in 2015. “It’s really fascinating.”

As with many customs, the ritual is conducted to atone for sins, pray for the ill, and express thanks for miracles — as was the case with Enaje.

Despite their good intentions, this brand of folk Catholicism has come under fire from the Catholic Church, which urges practitioners to show their devotion in safer, less extreme ways such as giving blood.

Common modern traditions on Good Friday — which occurs on the Friday before Easter — include fasting and eating hot cross buns.

Many religious figures blame the Church for not doing enough to educate many Filipinos in Christian theology, thereby inspiring them to improvise with rogue rituals.

“The question is where were we church people when they started doing this?” said prominent Catholic priest Robert Reyes. “If we judge them, we’ll just alienate them.”

One tangible benefit of the crucifixions, perhaps, is the international attention they bring to San Pedro Cutud, The Mirror reported.

This year, over 15,000 locals and foreign visitors alike descended on the impoverished rice village and neighboring towns to witness the spectacle like a biblical Woodstock.

“They like this because there is really nothing like this on Earth,” said Gareth.