Light from the empty tomb

“May mga penitensya pa ba sa Pilipinas?” emailed a friend, an Ateneo graduate, living abroad for many years now. As a child she used to gawk at them in her hometown in Pampanga. She commented that these “masochistic flagellants” reflect a pervasive sense of worthlessness that infects the national consciousness which in turn keeps the country in stagnation. This friend (who has a yen for psychoanalysis) thinks Filipinos are “used to suffering” and enjoy being victims, thus they have endured centuries of injustice to their own detriment. She sees poverty and ignorance as the main culprits in the country’s state of affairs and thinks the solution lies in educating the people and eradicating graft and corruption. Of course, I emailed her a piece of my mind as well. It follows:

I observe that the flagellants come from the lower socio-economic echelons and would not be in a position to analyze their penchant for blood-letting in the same way an Atenean probably would. Yes, they looked at the forsaken Jesus and probably identified with the man on the cross but—I would venture a guess—not out of a deep sense of victimhood as a people. Their horizon is within arm’s reach, or baranggay-wide in some cases, and they wouldn’t be bothered by history, let alone link their present condition to a past of indignities the colonizers subjected their great great great grandparents to.

As a growing girl and later on as mainstream media person I myself had been privileged to get acquainted with a handful of them. That’s practically all I’m basing my observations on—person to person contact. Most, if not all of them, live a notch above or below poverty line. They can barely make both ends meet but they can always persuade Aling Belay at the corner sari-sari store to spare them a bottle of “lapad” or “quatro cantos” (read “ Marka Dimonyo ”) at the end of each harrowing day. And for them every godforsaken day is harrowing. When you are poor and ignorant, it is hard to believe you have any choice.

But their self-immolation is a choice, their choice— Vatican pronouncements notwithstanding. They flagellate themselves because it’s a panata, a vow to be honored year after year as their way of expressing remorse for their sins. They are happy that way. They may feel worthless in their sinfulness but not hopeless in their blood-letting. Being whipped and nailed on the cross is for them reliving the pasyon ni Hesus— peculiar, perhaps, but it is their imitation of Christ .

These Holy Week “masochists” are by no means the sole barometer of our national spiritual climate. It would be myopic—not to mention unjust—to say that Filipinos bear in their collective psyche the “sense of worthlessness that has made them endure centuries of injustice … and that keeps the country in a perpetual state of stagnation.”

Let me ask you: How many flagellants do we have every year? Hundreds? How many get “crucified”? Two? Three? For every penitent bleeding himself clean during semana santa, how many pleasure-seekers troop to the beaches oblivious of the pasyon? If we have “masochists”, we also have “hedonists” by the thousands; is it a feeling of worthlessness that drives them to escape the dour Holy Week spirit? For every dozen who choose holiday over holy week, how many hundreds of thousands of Filipinos stay put in the city—flocking to the churches for the Seven Last Words, going on a visita iglesia with families and friends, attending the Easter vigil vibrating with anticipation, as though awaiting the very birth of Christ itself? Can you honestly say that we as a people have in our core this “sense of worthlessness”? Is progress elusive because we are “used to suffering”? Gotcha!

As a people, we are where we are—and no president or Poncio Pilato can save us—not because we are used to suffering but because we are afraid to suffer for Christ ’s sake! Sa totoo lang, tita, we run away from the Cross! Those who are already suffering from poverty and ignorance are caught in a rut because those who are in a position to help them out are unwilling to suffer with them. Our concept and practice of charity even tends to perpetuate the status quo when do-gooders help the poor to placate their conscience while the poor use their poverty as an excuse for their slothfulness. That’s the real picture: rich and poor alike, educated or not, refuse to walk the extra mile to unite and improve things for the country! People are too comfortable in their own little worlds to bother looking at the big picture, much as less to work towards building the Kingdom of God !

So you see, even though poverty and ignorance is our problem, it is a mistake to think that money and education alone can liberate us from these twin evils. We still find in all economic levels people who are never satisfied with the money they are making—they feel impoverished if they cannot have more, more, more. We have more and supposedly better schools now than our grandfathers who were raised on caton ever did, and yet we still encounter soul-searing ignorance even among our Ph Ds.

Thanks to Lea Salonga and Manny Pacquiao, our masses can now proclaim they are “proud to be Pinoy”—we’ve come a long way from “feeling worthless,” haven’t we?—and yet our flagellants have remained with us for centuries now, like indelible footprints of a bygone era. And in our collective ignorance we blame anything but ourselves for the moribund state our country is in.

We are in the dark and we do not know it. The solution to the problem of poverty and ignorance is not a flawless political system, a better economy or even more education. What we need is: illumination. Illumination to dispel the darkness of ignorance and to enable us to see the divine behind our material poverty. We need illumination from the empty tomb to see our own sins before those of others.

Easter is upon us. We say Allelujah! to the Risen Christ but do we really believe in Him? Believe in Him enough to want to make ourselves channels of His light and love? We say “Peace be with you!” but are we willing to wage war on our inner demons, to mean what we mouth in order to spread the peace of Christ all over our land?

In this “only Christian nation in Asia ,” there are poor people among the moneyed, ignorant ones among the schooled, and greedy ones from rich and poor alike. Which reminds me of Jeremiah 6:13-14, For from the least to the greatest of them, everyone is greedy for unjust gain, and from prophet to priest, everyone deals falsely. They have treated the wound of my people carelessly, saying ‘Peace, peace’, when there is no peace.

Peace will come upon our land when the illuminati—those to whom more is given—take up their Cross, follow their Master, and bring the light of the Risen Christ to the people not by the words they are saying but by the life they are living. It may appear that hoi polloi are still in flagellation mode, stuck on the level of the pasyon, but the true illuminati know in their hearts that whatever is happening is the best that can happen at the moment, for nothing escapes the compassionate eye of God. And that’s the truth. END

(NOTE: The above article first came out in the author's column, "And that's the truth", which comes out regularly in The CBCP Monitor, the official publication of the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines. It is written by a Filipino for a Filipino audience)

Split-level Marianity

“The Filipinos have a split level Christianity.” Over the decades this claim has been repeated so loudly and so often that its message now seems taken for granted. Briefly, it means Filipino Christians wear one mask inside the church and another outside of it, exhibit one type of behavior on Sunday and a different one from Monday to Saturday.

Now, the month of May and traditionally of Mary, another facet of our split-level Christianity surfaces: our irrespressible veneration of the Blessed Virgin Mary, back to back with our appalling disregard of the virtues she embodies.

It behooves me to think there must be thousands of Marian organizations in the Philippines and yet… how authentically “Marian” have we become? We remember her every six hours in the Angelus or Regina Coeli, every day in the rosary, every week in novenas, every month in her myriad manifestations. And every year over the centuries we have celebrated countless fiestas, held congresses, dedicated shrines, and organized jubilees—all for Mary. We release balloons on her birthday, and in Intramuros we hold processions of favorite and cherished Marian images every year.

This month, in churches all over the country—up to the humblest kapilya in far flung barangays—we honor Mary with flowers offered each day, culminating in two popular events in our calendar: the Santacruzan and the Flores de Mayo. After more than 400 years of all that show of love and devotion for our Blessed Mother, one would imagine the Filipinos to be by now a shining model of Christian discipleship. But are we?

How attentive have we grown to the writing on the wall, to the warning signs enveloped in images we are exposed to daily? Do we remember Mary when we watch those scantily clad “bombs” and “babes” gyrating on noontime TV shows? (Mary who?) Do we care that advertising billboards studding our highways reduce women to the level of sex objects? (Aw, come on!) Are we aware of the standards some of our magazines are setting to determine the value of a woman? (Yes, now you may text your votes for the sexiest cover girl in XXX Men’s Magazine). How are the women in these media clad? (Definitely not Mary-like!) What are they selling? (Worldly goodies.) What thoughts, desires, and emotions do they spawn in us? (The stuff of which confessions are made.)

Are we concerned about the values our showbiz “goddesses” are transmitting to our young women by their example? How do we reconcile these images (of Filipino women) with our fervor for Mary? How does this nonstop image-barrage by media affect our devotion to Mary? Shouldn’t our devotion to Mary somehow influence the public depiction of women in our midst?

Sometimes it’s embarrassing to realize that “non-Marian” countries or cultures are even more Marian in their regard for certain virtues we Catholics are supposed to uphold, such as modesty, for one. Buddhist temples in Thailand, for example, do not let in women visitors wearing shorts, sleeveless dresses or plunging necklines. Temple guards at the Islamic al-Aqsa shrine or Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem cover such improperly dressed tourists with gowns made for the purpose. (In contrast, note what some of our women wear to Mass in this “only Catholic nation in Asia.”) Newspapers and magazines in Islamic countries—even the more “liberal” or “progressive” ones like Egypt—do not carry photos of women exposing their bodies, such as fashion models in revealing clothes and beauty contestants in swimsuits. Here in our Mary-loving land, those beauties always get front page exposure in print media, and certainly, even jeepney-riding Filipinas are getting bolder and bolder in fashion, flaunting their navels and tattooed hips for all the world to see.

What ought to concern us is the effect of this “split-level Marianity” on young girls today—who will be tomorrow’s women and mothers. Show two images of woman to your 5-year old daughter—one of Our Lady and the other of a noontime TV dancer—and see which of the two will put a sparkle in her eye. Your guess is as good as mine. Attend a fiesta night in a remote barrio and you’ll find that live entertainment will most likely be provided by young girls dancing “Itaktak mo!”

We hope this split-level Marianity is but a passing thing, and that there are more true-blue Marian devotees than are apparent among us. It is laudable to give Mary a special place in our celebrations, but we also wish for everyone to savor the company of Mary in contemplation. With the Filipinos’ penchant for celebrations we sometimes forget about the long-range effects of our actions, like when we release balloons on Mother Mary’s birthday and choke Mother Earth in the process. With child-like and typical ningas-cogon glee we watch the balloons fly to the skies, not knowing that next day the deflated balloons could land in the ocean and cause death to marine creatures that ingest them.

We know that the imitation of Mary could provide the solution to our many ills. We fully trust that we shall one day be granted the grace to be “other Marys”—the soul of humility, modesty and compassion—remaining docile to God’s will while defying the judgment of men. Until that day comes we will in good faith just close an eye to our split-level Marianity. We carry on with our processions in her name, flaunting our fantabulous carrozas of her images while overlooking the probability that because we cannot imitate her, we make her imitate us: we can not be poor and simple like Mary, so we dress her up in gold and diamonds like us. The picture borders on the ridiculous, but our sense of humor will see us through. And that’s the truth.

A New Year Story: Signs of the Times

For a change from New Year’s Resolutions that never seem to resolve anything anyway, let’s begin 2007’s truth-telling in a lighthearted mood.

Travel not only broadens your horizons and expands your waistline—it also brings you funny moments at the most unexpected times and places, especially when you count on signs to find your way around. I for one find some signs so amusing or downright hilarious that I collect them, either jotting them down in a memo pad or photographing them whenever possible. Friends who know of my unusual “collection” contribute to it, too; so, enjoy what I have to show after 30 years of periodic globetrotting. (A word of caution, though: many of the signs here are Strictly For Adults Only).

Let’s start in Paris, where a cozy hotel reminds guests to: PLEASE LEAVE YOUR VALUES AT THE FRONT DESK.

A rather apologetic sign at a hotel lobby in Bucharest says with all good intentions: THE LIFT IS BEING FIXED FOR THE NEXT DAY. DURING THAT TIME WE REGRET THAT YOU WILL BE UNBEARABLE.

Across from a Russian Orthodox monastery in Moscow, a hotel welcomes tourists with this sign in the lobby: YOU ARE WELCOME TO VISIT THE CEMETERY WHERE FAMOUS RUSSIAN AND SOVIET COMPOSERS, ARTISTS, AND WRITERS ARE BURIED DAILY EXCEPT THURSDAY.

Very politely, a hotel in Tokyo has this sign in its rooms: GUESTS ARE REQUESTED NOT TO SMOKE OR DO OTHER DISGUSTING BEHAVIOURS IN BED.

Elsewhere in Japan, a hotel’s Instruction Sheet for using the air conditioner says: COOLES AND HEATES: IF YOU WANT CONDITION OF WARM AIR IN YOUR ROOM, PLEASE CONTROL YOURSELF.

And speaking of self-control, see this reminder in the rooms of a Zurich hotel: BECAUSE OF THE IMPROPRIETY OF ENTERTAINING GUESTS OF THE OPPOSITE SEX IN THE BEDROOM, IT IS SUGGESTED THAT THE LOBBY BE USED FOR THIS PURPOSE.

So as not to tire guests having to iron their own clothing, a hotel in Yugoslavia tacks this warm reminder on the rooms’ door: THE FLATTENING OF UNDERWEAR WITH PLEASURE IS THE JOB OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

With the same concern for guests, a hotel in Japan posts this in the rooms: YOU ARE INVITED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE CHAMBERMAID.

In case a chambermaid is unavailable, and the guests’ lack of care in ironing their clothes results in fire, this hotel in Vienna shows foresight with this sign: IN CASE OF FIRE, DO YOUR UTMOST TO ALARM THE HOTEL PORTER.

Mindful of its guests’ safety, a notice in the rooms of a Chiang-Mai hotel in Thailand cautions: PLEASE DO NOT BRING SOLICITORS INTO YOUR ROOM.

Solicitors invading the rooms may not be a problem for a hotel catering to skiers in Austria, but some of its rowdy guests might be, thus the warning: NOT TO PERAMBULATE THE CORRIDORS IN THE HOURS OF REPOSE IN THE BOOTS OF ASCENSION.

Sightseeing is made more enjoyable when you’re also “sign-seeing”. Look at this one posted in Germany's Black Forest: IT IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN ON OUR BLACK FOREST CAMPING SITE THAT PEOPLE OF DIFFERENT SEX, FOR INSTANCE, MEN AND WOMEN, LIVE TOGETHER IN ONE TENT UNLESS THEY ARE MARRIED WITH EACH OTHER FOR THIS PURPOSE.

A zoo in Budapest advises enthusiastic tourists with this sign: PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS. IF YOU HAVE ANY SUITABLE FOOD, GIVE IT TO THE GUARD ON DUTY.

This one in a Third World cemetery is well meaning, but still manages to tickle the imagination: PERSONS ARE PROHIBITED FROM PICKING FLOWERS FROM ANY BUT THEIR OWN GRAVES.

A sign at a Bangkok temple wags its finger at insensitive tourists: IT IS FORBIDDEN TO ENTER A WOMAN EVEN A FOREIGNER IF DRESSED AS A MAN.

Bars and restaurants offer their share of funny bone ticklers. Here’s a nutty one from a Tokyo bar: SPECIAL COCKTAILS FOR THE LADIES WITH NUTS.

A cocktail lounge in Norway, meanwhile, shows such care in protecting the innocent: LADIES ARE REQUESTED NOT TO HAVE CHILDREN IN THE BAR.

In a restaurant in Rome, this sign implies there are 521 days a year: OPEN SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, AND WEEKENDS TOO.

A Nairobi restaurant notice matter-of-factly states: CUSTOMERS WHO FIND OUR WAITRESSES RUDE OUGHT TO SEE THE MANAGER.

Restaurant menus also offer humor besides nourishment: Note this one from a Swiss restaurant in Fribourg: OUR WINES LEAVE YOU NOTHING TO HOPE FOR.

And from a quaint restaurant in Poland’s countryside: SALAD A FIRM'S OWN MAKE; LIMPID RED BEET SOUP WITH CHEESY DUMPLINGS IN THE FORM OF A FINGER; ROASTED DUCK LET LOOSE; BEEF RASHERS BEATEN IN THE COUNTRY PEOPLE'S FASHION.

A new type of omelet seems a specialty in a roadside restaurant in Luxor, Egypt: WE SERVE OMELETTE WITH EGGS.

Roadside reminders are another source of travel fun. Right here at home, a sign cautions motorists in Tagaytay: PLEASE DRIVE SLOWLY. 6 PEOPLE DIED HERE BY ACCIDENT.

To wake up sleepy local tourists on the road to Malolos, a billboard advertising chicken feed boasts: PALAKIHAN NG ITLOG.

While you fill up at a gasoline station in Tarlac, an invitation painted on its wall says: DROP IN. THIS IS A GOOD PLACE TO TAKE A LEAK.

Travel agencies do their part in making your trip mishap-free—as this one from Czechoslovakia: TAKE ONE OF OUR HORSE-DRIVEN CITY TOURS. WE GUARANTEE NO MISCARRIAGES.

Sometimes travel agents’ enthusiasm leads to ambivalence, like this long-winding claim noted at a tourist bureau in Padova, Italy: THIS HOTEL IS RENOWNED FOR ITS PEACE AND SOLITUDE. IN FACT, CROWDS FROM ALL OVER THE WORLD FLOCK HERE TO ENJOY ITS SOLITUDE.

Sometimes, too, airline ticket offices may not be the most helpful of places; see this sign in Copenhagen: WE TAKE YOUR BAGS AND SEND THEM IN ALL DIRECTIONS.

The Japanese countryside is so beautiful even its travel tips can get to be poetic, as this one found in a car rental brochure in Tokyo: WHEN PASSENGER OF FOOT HEAVE IN SIGHT, TOOTLE THE HORN. TRUMPET HIM MELODIOUSLY AT FIRST, BUT IF HE STILL OBSTACLES YOUR PASSAGE THEN TOOTLE HIM WITH VIGOUR.

There’s more on the list, really, but I guess this is enough gasser for the day, lest some extra-sensitive reader ask, “What’s a column like that doing in an august, dignified paper for bishops?” Well, as any honest-to-goodness church person can tell you, bishops wouldn’t be able to endure being bishops if they didn’t know how to be human and laugh once in a while. And that’s the truth.

(NOTE: This article first appeared in the author's column "And that's the truth" which appears regularly in The CBCP Monitor, the official publication of the Catholic Bishops' Conference of the Philippines.)

Of love and cloud watching

By Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS

Once upon a time, a little girl aged five was looking out the window watching cloud formations.

Cloud-watching was a game her mother had taught her earlier on; their house, situated on the highest point of the street, afforded them a good view of the town and the city beyond, and, of course, of the huge expanse of the skies above. Mother and daughter would—on late afternoons before sunset—scan the skies for cloud formations that resembled creatures on earth. Her mother would say, “Look for an elephant!” and the little girl who had never been to a zoo would look for the animal as she had seen it in a coloring book. Happy that the girl would quickly find the elephant, the mother would snap, “Very good! Now, look for the bear!” and the little girl would find it fast, too, for she had seen a bear in the flash cards of her teacher-aunt.

Now, that particular afternoon she was cloud-watching alone, the clouds were sparse and the sky was a beautiful blue. There were no “animals” but still, the little girl saw in it a sea, as the clouds looked like foamy waves coming up the shore. She hoped, though, that clouds would thicken and swell so that even a few rabbits would appear, but they did not. Her eyes were getting tired and her eyelids heavy from the long wait, but the little girl did not give up. Then, she noticed images slowly forming from nothing and then moving in the blue sky, as though a movie was playing before her. One of two images was herself, the five-year old girl, wearing a long white tunic, sitting on the lap of Jesus, playing with his beard!

The little girl could identify Jesus from the many stampitas her grandmother kept as markers in her bible, and from the calendars from the lumber company tacked ubiquitously on the walls of their house. This Jesus moving in the sky was the one whose heart was exposed, but his heart was as big as a dinner plate, and the little girl was playfully sticking her finger in it. She noticed that it felt and looked like a pin cushion, being soft and made of red satin. “Why is your heart very big?” she asked Jesus. Came his reply, “Because it has to have room for everyone.” The little girl, still touching and exploring Jesus’ heart, remarked, “It is very soft…” Then, Jesus hugged her tight and she hugged him, too, although she wanted to complain that he was too big for her arms to hug tight.

When Jesus let go, the little girl noticed that her own heart was outside of her chest, too, though it was a regular heart, not as big as Jesus’. She was surprised, however, that it was bleeding although she felt no pain. Jesus read her mind and said, “When you hugged me, your heart was pressed against mine and got wounded by the thorns around my heart.” The little girl looked at Jesus’ heart which was no longer a big pin cushion but already a real heart outside of his chest, ringed with thorns and bleeding, like the one she saw in stampitas and calendars. She glanced at her heart, too, and noticed that the blood was coming from two little wounds. A smiling Jesus continued, “Now you see why you are wounded but you do not feel the pain because I am the one bearing all the pain— because I love you.”

The images slowly faded away and the little girl’s attention returned to her cloud-watching. Did she fall asleep?, she wondered, for what transpired was similar to dreaming. No, she was merely watching, and in fact she noticed that everything seemed to happen in a wink. In fact, the clouds that looked like foamy waves, had not shifted at all! But the little girl had no doubt that the movie-like story she saw was real, not a dream. However, she did not feel a need to tell anyone about it.

Many many many years later, when the little girl had grown into a woman who was to go through a lot in life, the picture of this heart episode wormed its way into her consciousness. Just as the heart has its own memory, it also has its own reason beyond reason, and now, the woman whose heart as a little girl received two wounds from His Heart knows and believes: Jesus is wounded by both those who love Him and those who do not love Him. Knowing He is wounded causes her heart to bleed, too, but He spares her from the pain because in her imperfect love for Him, feeling that pain herself would cripple her in her efforts to love others. Jesus’ love is such that He wants her heart to have room for everyone, too! Behold the Heart that loves all of us!