Our political circus

            

With the Comelec premises reportedly looking like a plaza on a fiesta during the week of politicians filing their Certificate of Candidacy (COC), the air waves are sizzling with more news and interviews related to the forthcoming 2016 elections.

            With candidates of rather colorful public images, character or background, the scene is getting to look like a veritable circus—with barkers, freak shows, and animals big and small. Some candidates roar (like lions), some come on heavy (like elephants), some inspire fear (like snakes), some look cute (like talking parrots), some are funny and amusing (like monkeys)—and all of them contribute to the season’s entertainment.

            A discerning voter without vested interests would realize that much about the candidates’ image is determined by how media portray them, and since media seem unable to be a hundred percent accurate, objective, and fair about doing their job in spite of their best intentions, voters must not depend solely on “what others say” in choosing candidates to vote for.  Much of what is currently surfacing in the political field can serve not only as directional arrows to guide our choice, but also as indicators of our level of sophistication and intelligence as an electorate, and maybe even of who we are as a people.  And so we try to look beneath the surface and in the process come to probe our psyche.

            For instance, most candidates do not speak meaningfully on issues.  Even when hard-pressed for comment on, say, the conflict with China in the west Philippine Sea, or the Bangsamoro Basic Law, answers are “generic” and noncommittal.  Doing your own research aided by Google won’t yield anything along this line.  Does this silence mean candidates are simply playing safe, or lack knowledge of the given situation?

            Most candidates tell stories instead of discussing policies.  Full of self-confidence, they say they’re the man for the job but offer nothing solid about how they’re going to do the job.  Coached no doubt by their publicists on the kind of image to project in order to appeal to as many people as possible, candidates score high at “porma” but almost zero on “plataporma”.  If their avowed desire to “serve the people” is true, shouldn’t they at least “do their homework” and let the people know what to expect should they win?

            Surveys left and right are exploited and depicted by media as reliable indicators of candidates’ future performance at the polls.  They are not presented for what they truly are—the voice of 1,000 or so voters out of 53,000,000.  Ultimately the victims of such media’s magnification of survey’s significance are the poor and the majority of us who are not aware that like any human endeavor, surveys can be manipulated—if the price is right.

            It’s alarming to find out how many “political dynasties” we have, and that some of these dynasties include even extramarital family members.  Following tradition and the ways of the world, all of such dynasties belong to the moneyed minority in our society.  The “poor” candidates’ names are usually not found in the roster of dynasties.  What does this imply, besides the already known fact that more often than not you need loads of money to run for public office?  That only the multimillionaires are capable of serving the public?  If cash is synonymous with clout in the political arena, does it follow that competent potential candidates may never have a crack at offices higher than that of barangay captain’s?  If the existence of political dynasties proves anything at all, it is that power is addictive.

(To be continued)            

Living Flesh from Buenos Aires

Despite our collective rejoicing and gratitude over Pope Francis’ voluntary visit to the Philippines last January (evidenced by the 7-million strong crowd that attended his concluding Mass at the Luneta), not a few people will admit to being “slightly disappointed” that his visit then meant the Pontiff could not be expected to return in order to be present at the International Eucharistic Congress (IEC) to be held in January 2016 in Cebu.

Take heart!  There could be another way through which the erstwhile Bishop of Buenos Aires, now Bishop of Rome and “the people’s pope”, could somehow be with us on this monumental event—by opening the IEC’s doors to what a growing number of people believe to be the “Eucharistic miracle of Buenos Aires”—with the prerequisite blessing of the Holy See, of course.

Documents, photos and videos point to the existence of a “Eucharistic phenomenon” that reportedly took place on August 18, 1996 at St. Mary Catholic Church in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  As Padre Alejandro Pezet was finishing distribution of the Holy Communion, a woman came up to say she’d found a host someone had dropped and refused to pick up to consume it as it had been soiled.  Fr. Pezet took the host and as is customary in such instances placed it in a container with water and kept it locked in the tabernacle.

On August 26, Fr. Pezet assumed the host had been dissolved and that he could then respectfully water a plant with it, but to his amazement he found that instead of being dissolved the host had turned into a seemingly bloody substance.  He reported it to Mons. Jorge Bergoglio, then Auxiliary Bishop of Buenos Aires.  Antonio Cardinal Quarracino, then Archbishop of Buenos Aires, instructed that the host be professionally photographed and the event studied and documented.  On September 6, 1996, photographs taken showed a significant increase in the host’s size.  On the instruction of Cardinal Quarracino, the whole affair was kept a secret.  The host was kept in a container of distilled water in the tabernacle; meanwhile, photographs and documents were reportedly submitted to Rome. 

Three years later, the host still showed no signs of visible decomposition, thus in 1999, the now Archbishop of Buenos Aires Jorge Bergoglio followed the case through.  He deemed it best that the host be subjected to scientific examination.  On Oct. 5, 1999, Dr. Ricardo Castanon, a neuro-psycho-physiologist who happens to be an atheist, was allowed to take a sample of the bloody substance which he was to take to the United States for analysis following typical FBI procedures.  To ensure a prejudice-free study, Dr. Castanon purposely concealed the origin of the bloody fragment from the team of scientists who would do the study.

The team determined that what had been analyzed was real flesh and blood, containing human DNA. One of these scientists, Dr. Frederick Zugibe, a well-known cardiologist and forensic pathologist, stated: “The analyzed material is a fragment of the heart muscle found in the wall of the left ventricle close to the valves. This muscle is responsible for the contraction of the heart. It should be borne in mind that the left cardiac ventricle pumps blood to all parts of the body. The heart muscle is in an inflammatory condition and contains a large number of white blood cells. This indicates that the heart was alive at the time the sample was taken. It is my contention that the heart was alive, since white blood cells die outside a living organism. They require a living organism to sustain them. Thus, their presence indicates that the heart was alive when the sample was taken. What is more, these white blood cells had penetrated the tissue, which further indicates that the heart had been under severe stress, as if the owner had been beaten severely about the chest.”

Witnessing these tests were two Australians, journalist Mike Willesee and lawyer Ron Tesoriero; both men knew the background of the sample, and were naturally stunned to hear Dr. Zugibe’s testimony.  Willessee asked Dr. Zugibe, “How long would white blood cells have remained alive if they have come from a human tissue which had been kept in water?”  Dr. Zugibe replied, “They would have ceased to exist in a matter of minutes.”  Willessee, gradually unveiling the truth, informed Dr. Zugibe that before it reached the doctor’s hands, the sample was “from a tissue that had first been kept in ordinary water for a month and then in a bowl with distilled water for three years.”  As Dr. Zugibe had no scientific explanation for it, Willessee finally told him the truth, that “the analyzed sample came from a consecrated host.”  Astonished, Dr. Zugibe replied that “how and why a host would change its character to become living flesh and blood would remain an inexplicable mystery to science, a mystery totally beyond my competence.”

Dr. Castanon then arranged to have the lab reports be compared to those made of a relic of the similar miracle which took place in Lanciano (Italy) in the eighth century.  The experts making the comparison were not told of the origin of the samples; nonetheless they concluded that “the two lab reports must have originated from samples obtained from the same person.” They further added that both samples revealed an AB positive blood type, all characteristic of a man who was born and who lived in the Middle East region.

Dr. Castanon, reportedly an avowed atheist, set out to disprove the Eucharistic miracle in Buenos Aires and ended up converting to Catholicism.  Author of the book Cuando La Palabra Hiere (“When the Word Hurts”) he is now committed to his mission of traveling the world, investigating Catholic mystical phenomena and running scientific tests to prove or disprove them.

We know and understand how long it takes for a “miracle” to be officially approved by the Church.  It should be so, otherwise, any religious phenomenon could be used to lead the innocent and the ignorant to perdition.  On the other hand we have also seen how many a cold heart has been inflamed by the sight or the feel of a saint’s relic.  A countless number of church-goers take Holy Communion barely knowing its grave significance.  Even priests sometimes admit to taking the Host for granted—having celebrated Holy Mass for years, sometimes up to seven times on a Sunday, “the celebration part is gone, only the obligation part remains.”  So why not try and bring the Living Flesh from Buenos Aires to the Philippines for the Eucharistic Congress?  Then we’ll have not just the Pope from Buenos Aires but the Lord Himself in our land.  Our nation is in dire need of it.  We are aware that this suggestion is a shot at the moon.  But remembering what Pope Francis said to the young people of Cuba—“Dream on!”—we dream on and leave our dreams at the feet of the Crucified Christ, fully trusting in God’s plan for us.  And that’s the truth.      

The Veil of Manoppello

Not many of us are familiar with or even have heard of the “Veil of Manoppello”, a piece of “sea silk” that bears what is believed to be the Holy Face of the Risen Christ.  Perhaps a visit to Bagumbayan Taguig City one of these days could introduce us to it.  A replica of “Holy Face of Manoppello” was enshrined at the Sagrada Familia Parish in Bagumbayan, Taguig City last September 14, Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.  The replica, housed in its own chapel, is a special gift from the Rector of the Basilica of Volto Santo in Manoppello and Mrs. Daisy Neves of Seattle, USA, to the Philippines and the Christian community of Bagumbayan, “a gift from the Risen Lord in order to help us persevere in believing”, says Fr. Danny Flores, Sagrada Familia parish priest who is “on loan” from Rome.

      Allow us to lend this space to the story told of the Veil of Manoppello and handed down to this column by Fr. Flores: The account of the resurrection of the Lord (Jn. 20: 1-9) narrates that inside the empty tomb where Jesus was laid down, several burial clothes were found including the cloth that covered Jesus’ head. John entered the tomb after Peter; the former firmly fixed his eyes on the cloth. “He saw and believed” that indeed Jesus is Risen from the dead.

      According to the Jewish tradition, several clothes were used in the burial customs of the Jews. Insofar as Jesus was regarded as Rabbi whose teaching came from above, the most solemn of all the burial clothes were used to bury his body. These clothes that covered the dead body of Jesus were the ‘sindon munda of Joseph of Arimathea’, ‘sudarium of Aachen’, ‘shroud of Turin’, ‘coif of Cahors’, ‘sudarium of Oviedo’ and the ‘veil of Manoppello’. Famous among these burial clothes are the four-meter linen cloth used to wrap the whole body of the dead Jesus commonly known as the ‘shroud of Turin’, the towel used to absorb the blood and water coming out from the nose and mouth of Jesus while being brought down from the cross, known as the ‘sudarium of Oviedo’ and the marine byssus that was placed over the head of Jesus as the last homage to the divine King, or the so-called ‘veil of Jerusalem’, otherwise known as the ‘Veil of Veronica’ enshrined today in the Basilica del Volto Santo a Manoppello in Italy.

      St. John found the ‘veil of Jerusalem’, which covered the face of Jesus while in the tomb; he saw on it the ‘imprinted image of the face of the Risen Lord’ and after observing it, he believed that in fact the Lord Jesus Christ is alive.

The tradition says that during the apostolic times, all the burial clothes, already considered relics of the ‘Suffering, Dead and Risen Lord’, were taken care of by His Holy Mother and were later entrusted to some of the Apostles. These relics were then transferred in different places and were entrusted to various persons for safekeeping and veneration until, compelled by events and various circumstances in the history of the early Christian communities, those clothes were handed over to some civil and religious authorities in different countries and in various manners.

The ‘Veil of Jerusalem’ underwent the same fate. It journeyed from Jerusalem (c. 33-40? AD) to Edessa (now Syria) between c. 40-50 where it was called the ‘mandylion of Edessa’; then, from Edessa to Kamulia (Urfa, Turkey) in 392 (‘veil of Camulia’) down to Constantinople in the year 574 where it was kept until the siege of the city. In Constantinople (now Istanbul, Turkey) like in Kamulia, the veil was venerated as an ‘acheiropoietos’ because of its mysterious origin, that is, an image ‘not painted by human hands’. It was then brought to Rome in c. 705 in St. John Lateran Apostolic Palace and venerated at the chapel of the ‘Sancta Sanctorum’ (Church of St. Lawrence in Palatio in Scala Santa) and later on was brought to St. Peter’s Basilica in 1200 and kept at the chapel of the Veronica until the siege of Rome on May 6, 1527. In Rome the ‘acheiropetos’ was successively called the ‘Veil of Veronica’ or simply ‘Veronica’.

It is interesting to know the meaning of the word ‘veronica’; a word that was coined in order to express the mystery of the veil. Veronica is the combination of two words: the Latin ‘vera’  meaning ‘true’ and the Greek ‘eikona’ meaning ‘image’, which put together form a single word ‘veraicon’ or ‘veronica’.  The veil, therefore, is the ‘true image’ of the face of the Risen Lord. In fact, the image of the ‘just awakened Christ’ was impressed onto the marine byssus at the very first moment of the resurrection. This special kind of woven mussel silk, the costliest fabric in the ancient world known as byssus, captured and immortalized the very first instance when the Lord Jesus takes back the life He himself offered by dying on the cross.

To protect the precious relic of the Resurrection of the Lord during the sack of Rome, the ‘Veil of Veronica’ was brought to a small town of Manoppello (c. 1506; 1608) in the central part of Italy in the region of Abruzzo. From then onward until today it is kept and venerated by the faithful of the city as the ‘Volto Santo di Manoppello’ or the ‘Holy Face of Manoppello’.

      Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI was the first Roman Pontiff to visit the Shrine and venerate the ‘Holy Face of Manoppello’ on September 1, 2006. After contemplating the human face of God imprinted on the Veil of Manoppello, it had become the trademark of his pontificate.  In fact, in January 2013 he mentioned the ‘face of God’ nineteen times during the public audience and in his last public audience prior to his resignation he pronounced it again for twenty-five times; thereby, sealing his pontificate with the “Human Face of God”.  Pope Benedict’s address then to the pilgrims on that historic visit may as well be an invitation to us to gaze on the Holy Face: “As the Psalms say, we are all ‘seeking the face of the Lord.’  And this is also the meaning of my visit.  Let us seek together to know the Face of the Lord even better, and in the Face of the Lord let us find this impetus of love and peace which also reveals to us the path of our life.”

Torre de Babel, Conclusion

If monuments are a symbol of heroism and skyscrapers are a symbol of progress, may they not stand side by side with one another?  If my memory serves me right, Rizal himself in his El Filibusterismo wrote about a character’s satisfaction—while on a pleasure cruise down the Pasig river—at seeing “the factories in Mandaluyong”, clear symbols of progress among a people he did not wish to be forever colonized.  

In 1927, the tallest structure in the Philippines was the newly built Main Building of the University of Santo Tomas. The cross crowning its tower (from which Manila Bay was reportedly visible) also served as Kilometer 0 from which all distances to any point in Luzon were measured.  The cross symbolizes the Pontifical University’s “mission of salvation through the Cross of Christ”, and within the 21.5-hectare UST campus, no structure was allowed to be built higher than the tower’s cross.

On January 25, 2010, the UST Main Building was declared by the Philippine National Museum a “National Cultural Treasure”, along with the Central Seminary, the Arch of the Centuries and the Open Space fronting the Grandstand. In May 2011, the National Historical Commission of the Philippines declared the UST a “National  Historical Landmark”, citing its “major historical significance in Philippine history from the Spanish to contemporary times.”     

At present, the 12-storey Blessed Buenaventura Garcia Paredes, OP Building—inaugurated in 2014, standing where formerly stood the UST gymnasium—apparently rises higher than the Main Building tower’s cross, but is anyone saying it is desecrating what that cross stands for?  I dare say, not even the UST’s most illustrious son, Jose Rizal, would see anything sacrilegious about that.  Nor would the 403-year-old UST itself balk at the mushrooming of Torre This or Tower That, condominiums and dormitories on the periphery of its revered campus.  I think the venerable 403-year-old UST, for all its contribution to Philippine culture, history and human growth, understands the price of urban development.  That’s the wisdom of the old and mellowed by experience.  Compelled to suspend its function as an institution of learning during the Second World War—when its campus was used by the Japanese military forces an internment camp for allied prisoners—the UST stands as testimony to the fact that while wars and the march of progress can mar a symbol of greatness, it can not kill the spirit of greatness it represents.

Luneta’s Rizal monument is now Kilometer 0, and the Philippines is no longer a colony—do Filipinos still think a photo bummer could diminish the nobility of the hero that his monument honors?  Andres Bonifacio’s handsome monument (Cry of Balintawak) is all but choked by the commercial establishments surrounding it, but why is no one complaining?  Does this mean we see Andres Bonifacio as a second class hero?

If the appearance of the Rizal Monument were so significant, why are the loud voices being heard only now, now that over 40 floors have already been built?  If I were DMCI, or bought a unit at Torre, I’d complain. Government agencies involved should pull their act together to avoid repetition of the same.  I’d like to give the benefit of the doubt to DMCI, after all, oral arguments reveal that it has not violated any law in the process.  Besides, the National Historical Commission of the Philippines has testified that “the Torre de Manila project site is outside the boundaries of the Rizal Park and well to the rear (789 meters) of the Rizal National Monument; hence it cannot possibly obstruct the front view of the said National Monument.”  Judging from DMCI’s projects, of all the developments in its class, DMCI has the best eye for the aesthetic aspects of condo-dwelling—they are not afraid to “waste” space in order to secure beauty and healthful living for the residents.  Their low-rise communities are a picture of order and harmony, ideal places for young families to grow in.  Most other condo buildings look like artless shoe boxes stacked to towering heights, but DMCI for the same price as those “shoe box towers” offers middle-income families with spacious recreational facilities, well appointed study rooms, a gorgeous lobbies, and reception areas residents may be proud to entertain in.

If I seem to be taking sides on this issue, you can be sure it’s only the side of reason and common sense.  Torre de Manila’s bashers are an energetic lot and it’s sad to see that much energy being aimed at a mere “photo bummer” as though the country (or even Manila alone) were a picture of an immaculate paradise.  Hellooow!  There are other sights in Metromanila that “violate the visual integrity” of our beloved landmarks and are a real affront to the ideals our heroes fought and died for.  Open thine eyes to the scores of other photo bummers littering our metropolis!  Ever since I took my first job in the Manila Times (of Chino Roces days) I’ve been calling readers’ attention to various ills—beggar syndicates, prostitution, child abuse, illegal recruitment, OFWs’ broken families, mediocre television programming, fraudulent advertising, garbage mountains on our streets, squatter shanties and clogged waterways, unfair labor practices, etc.  I’m already hoarse from crying for families living on the sidewalks, small children begging, girls selling sampaguita in the rain, boys gambling off alms money from scrupulous Christians, to name a few.

Instead of bashing well-meaning urban developers and adding to the noise that reduces Torre de Manila into a Torre de Babel, perhaps the erudite and cultured members of our society can combine forces and encourage the production of superior, well-researched films on our heroes—real heroes who have been dead at least 50 years, not political figures catapulted to hero status by sheer luck.  Produce concerts or plays on their lives so that our youth may be inspired by them instead of just screaming over One Direction or paying thousands of pesos to see Madonna.  To our beauty pageants, add essay writing contests that draw out the Filipinas’ feminine genius —remember what Rizal wrote to the young women of Malolos?

The Torre?  Leave it be.  And let other developers even out the skyline.  The problem will solve itself if handled with reason.  While still under construction, high-risers will naturally be an eyesore, but once finished they will provide an appropriately lit backdrop for Rizal’s monument, hopefully luring promenaders to the park, back from air conditioned malls.  Then I can hope I won’t hear anymore what I heard from a Latin American meeting a Filipino for the first time: “Before I met you I used to think people in the Philippines were like monkeys, living in trees…”   Hah!  Living in trees!  The world will come to salute a blazing Rizal monument with twinkling condo lights in the background!  And that’s the truth.

Torre de Babel, Part 2

The longer the Torre de Manila controversy drags on, the more ridiculous the debate becomes.  Because louder and louder the protesters’ battle cry appears to be only the building’s being a “photo bummer”.  Really?  How shallow can we be?  As some TV hosts might say, “How babaw naman we are, promise!”  Why do we insist that a photo bummer in our eyes is tantamount to disrespect in our hearts for a great hero?  How babaw talaga!

      Meanwhile, the enterprising photographers at the park have boosted their income with a new “raket”: instant photos of yourselves and the monument but no Torre de Manila anywhere!  Incredible?  Not with Photoshop, the park photogs quip.

      Ongoing hearings reveal that no law has been violated, so why the fuss?  Surely we will not change the law to please a noisy few?  If protesters blast the Torre because they are running out of relevant causes to fight, why don’t we all calm down and “use our coconut” in the name of damage control?

      To begin with we can urge the Noynoy administration to proclaim—finally—Dr. Jose Rizal as the National Hero of the Philippines.  We have been taught from grade school that Gat. Jose P. Rizal is our national hero.  The presence in many Philippine towns and cities of a street, plaza, school, hospital, factory, karinderia, and even a funeraria reflects a nationwide acceptance of him as a national hero indeed.  But would you believe that there is no official record of Rizal’s proclamation as the Philippines’ national hero?  We have an officially proclaimed national tree (narra), national flower (sampaguita), national bird (Philippine eagle), national gem (south sea pearl), and national sport (arnis)—but no national hero.  In fact, the National Heroes Committee recommended in 1995 Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Emilio Aguinaldo, Marcelo del Pilar, Juan Luna, Apolinario Mabini, Sultan Dipatuan Kudarat, Melchora Aquino and Gabriela Silang for recognition as national heroes, but nothing has come of that move to this day.  Why?

      We may not have a properly proclaimed national hero, but we do have a national habit of not questioning things, and so all these years we have accepted what we have been told—that we do have a national dance (tinikling), national animal (carabao), national fish (bangus), national leaf (anahaw), national fruit (mango), national costume (barong Tagalog and baro’t saya), national footwear (bakya), national game (sipa) national house (nipa hut), and even a national dish, the deadly lechon. (Doesn’t that last one make you wonder why it’s not the more affordable daing na galunggong, or the more sought-after sinigang, crispy pata, kare-kare, or the tourist’s favorite, adobo?  We might as well have a national snack, too—kwek-kwek.  Hmmm).  No matter how much we identify with those icons, the truth is, they have no official “national” status.  So, our beloved heroes in effect are in the same category as our bakya, kalabaw and sipa.  And while we’re at it, we might as well ask, too, Why is Lapu Lapu not enlisted as a hero—after all he killed someone who “trampled our sacred shores”, thus his magnificent monument in Mactan, Cebu.  Or is it enough that he is honored in the Pinoy’s menu as Prito, Escabeche, or Steamed with Soy Sauce?)

      So let’s go back to our beloved Rizal.  If this protracted investigation of the Torre de Manila case proves that there indeed has been corruption in the construction’s approval, then by all means, punish the guilty.  Tongue-in-cheek we can recommend some “penalties”.  Compel DMCI to:

      --rebuild/restore the many Rizal monuments in the provinces that have been neglected by the local governments.  They are usually made of concrete, surrounded by scraggly shrubs in chipped concrete plant pots, and some of them have become moldy.  They look pathetic in the daytime, and without a single lamp post, forlorn at night.

      --improve the lighting of the Rizal Park and focus the limelight, so to speak, on the monument itself, so that the contentious structure would be so brilliant as to overshadow anything burning below 1,000 watts.  Meralco bill to be shared by the guilty parties.

      --give Torre de Manila the competition it deserves: allow the construction of two dozen other 49-storey condos on the same road.   

      --chop down the Torre to a reasonable height (which means “acceptable” to the noisy protesters), refund the buyers, and split the loss between DMCI and the corrupt officials.

      --partner with the government in building mass-housing projects and developing satellite towns for the homeless “informal settlers” of Metromanila.  Everybody deserves decent dwelling—not just the condo buyers.  Who knows, this might work so well that finally we will have no more need to cover up the shanties whenever kings or ambassadors or popes come to visit. 

(To be concluded) 

                 

Torre de Babel

What is the measure of one’s patriotism?  Why revere a national hero?  Why do we erect monuments to heroes?

The issue currently raging—on the condominium building nearing completion behind the Rizal monument at the Luneta—should lead us to question the way things are in our country.  The age-old system that has kept us shackled to undesirable conditions in our midst, for one, and for another, the way we regard what truly matters for us.  Judging from the reactions of many vocal citizens heard or read in mainstream and social media, the Torre de Manila issue is fast becoming a Torre de Babel reality.  That is, IMHO—in my humble opinion.

Arguments have been aired over it, allegations of corruption thrown here and there, but what is the contentious issue really trying to tell us, ordinary people who claim to revere Dr. Jose Rizal as a national hero?  It all started when some people objected to the building’s being a “photo bummer”, sticking out like a sore thumb behind the towering Rizal monument.  It mars the landscape, so they screamed, it disrespects a beloved hero.  From that sentiment arose so many comments, and blaming fingers began to wag against the condominium developer, DMCI, until the name “Torre de Manila” emerged as the villain in what is turning out to be the city’s “sarsuela” of the decade.

The fight should not be between DMCI and the NCCA, NHC, or whatever government agency on culture is involved; the kinks in this situation have to be primarily ironed out by these abovementioned agencies and the city of Manila (which approved the DMCI construction).  But emotions run high, especially on primetime tv where among others a former beauty titlist and a multi awarded radio commentator were already condemning poor DMCI even before it can air its side.  The protesters’ main argument is based on a physical aspect, the building’s being an “eyesore” and therefore an affront to Jose Rizal.  For me that is a non-issue; it’s just a question of perspective.  I was surprised to discover one day, driving along Roxas Blvd., that the building is so far away and behind the monument that if you focus on the monument you won’t even notice the Torre is there.  Creative photographers can even hide it altogether; if you want it out of your picture, just change your vantage point.

But some influential persons want blood.  They want the construction stopped, or chopped to the level of the treetops if not tabula raza.  All this sentimentality masquerading as patriotism could make us miss the forest for the trees.  In fact, their arguments make me wonder if they are truly honoring a hero or just worshipping his monument.

For me, Rizal is so great that building even twenty condominiums behind his monument would not make him less of a Filipino to emulate.  There are so many other “eyesores” I am sure Jose Rizal would want us to open our eyes to: the “street dwellers” around us, the scavengers who eat fast food chain leftovers, the street children sniffing Rugby off plastic bags, the homeless living under the bridges, the squatters (“informal settlers” to the politically correct), putting up their shacks on islands, parks, sidewalks or seawalls—the favorite subject of moviemakers aiming for awards at international film festivals.

Emotions should be tempered with reason and objective investigation.  I am sure that Rizal would consider it vanity for his fans be so anxious about the aesthetics of his monument instead of working towards the ideals that he died for; sheer mediocrity to be to be ranting and raving over the Facebook-worthiness of our pictures instead of giving of ourselves in love for our fellow-Filipinos. 

(To be continued)

A listening heart

Comelec reportedly will allow campaign season to begin “early” this year, around October, before which political advertising would be judged “premature” and therefore a violation of law.  But, come to think of it—is anyone really keeping track?

Political campaigning happens without actual advertising.  A person aspiring for political office need not say “Vote for me” to express his intention.  Footage on television or in movie houses showing him/her in a favorable light—for example, as “champion of the masa”—tells the public “I am worthy of being a public servant; remember me in 2016.”  Keeping a high profile, frequent appearances in talk shows or media fora, or even glowing words of praise from his/her friends all constitute indirect campaigning.  Even seemingly amusing but snide remarks in social media aimed at potential rivals are in a way advertising of a kind—like allusions to a rival’s tarnished reputation or lack of experience.

In this light, I find very timely what Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI said to the Parliament in Berlin on September 22, 2011.  He began by recounting the story of King Solomon when God invited him to make a request, on his accession to the throne.  Would the young king ask for success, wealth, long life, or the destruction of his enemies?  Solomon chose none of the above, and instead asks for a listening heart that he may govern God’s people and discern between good and evil.

Benedict said that through this little story “the Bible wants to tell us what should ultimately matter for a politician. His fundamental criterion and the motivation for his work as a politician must not be success, and certainly not material gain. Politics must be a striving for justice, and hence it has to establish the fundamental preconditions for peace.”

Quoting St. Augustine, “Without justice, what else is the State but a great band of robbers?”  Benedict went on to say that power divorced from right could turn politicians into a “highly organized band of robbers, capable of threatening the whole world and driving it to the edge of the abyss. To serve right and to fight against the dominion of wrong is and remains the fundamental task of the politician. At a moment in history when man has acquired previously inconceivable power, this task takes on a particular urgency. Man can destroy the world. He can manipulate himself. He can, so to speak, make human beings and he can deny them their humanity. How do we recognize what is right? How can we discern between good and evil, between what is truly right and what may appear right? Even now, Solomon’s request remains the decisive issue facing politicians and politics today… How would it be if we, the law-makers of today, were invited to make a request? What would we ask for? I think that, even today, there is ultimately nothing else we could wish for but a listening heart—the capacity to discern between good and evil, and thus to establish true law, to serve justice and peace.” 

Solomon’s story is a gentle reminder during these times of mudslinging and preening that it’s never enough to have professional competence, cleverness, years of experience, popularity, or even a good reputation.  A listening heart is at the core of the matter—particularly when the heart listens in silence.  And that’s the truth. 

Peace in a greedy world

           

 “Peace” is a big word these days, all over the world.  The word saturates media and the news, not because the world has learned to embrace the peace that the Risen Christ brings, but precisely because world powers pay mere lip service to His brand of peace.

             Although presidents, prime ministers, and kings swear allegiance to the cause of peace, war persists—ironically, in the name of peace.  Peace pacts and treaties continue to be signed, yet the arms industry keeps on churning out war weaponry, efficient killing machines that get more and more sophisticated with each new invention.  “Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed”—these are sensible words from Dwight Eisenhower.  At best war brings a false peace; at worst, it makes murderers of men.  Either way, it is the deception that wins in war, not nobility of heart.

            In our own country, barely four months ago, we witnessed the ugly aftermath of a war that pits Filipinos against Filipinos and unsettles innocent civilians.  The botched Mamasapano operation cast aspersions on the president and his friend, the suspended PNP chief, and uncovered loopholes in the Bangsamoro Basic Law (BBL) that point to bad faith and stealth in the contracting parties.  Mamasapano has been snowed under with one bad news after another, so that now it seems just like one faintly remembered nightmare; meanwhile, the BBL is being doggedly pushed by Malacanang.

            Why the rush?  Pray tell, who stands to benefit from a “peace agreement” that is apparently motivated by a desire for something other than true peace?  Is it worth pursuing a peace agreement that dubious assumptions have doomed from the start?  If the BBL were as commendable as its authors and promoters claim, why are there still so many voices reasonably opposing its passing?  That even the religious leaders seem divided on the issue makes one suspect they may be reading different versions of the draft.  How many versions are there, anyway?  The issue is yet wrapped in obscurity, but why is the Palace bent on passing it? 

            As of press time, a Senate hearing has revealed that the Sultanates were not consulted at all in the crafting of the BBL—what a monumental faux pas!  Again, why?  Don’t the Sultanates count at all in the peace process?  Passing the BBL will definitely affect the future not only of some Mindanao residents but also that of the whole country, so why exclude anybody?  Why were the sultanates ignored, and yet Malaysians have their fingers in the BBL pie.  Why?  If Government sincerely believes BBL is for the good of the country, the least it can do is to translate the BBL draft into the vernacular in order to be understood by every Filipino, especially the youth who will reap the effects of this “peace agreement”. 

          Truth to tell, I have never really believed politics alone can bring us peace.  As a citizen of this predominantly Catholic nation in Asia, though, I believe that faith in Jesus Christ can bring us peace.  All anomalies, injustices, chaos, tragedies—indeed, all the evils displacing peace in our midst stem from the fact that despite our Christian posturing, our leaders’ bumbling interventions prove that Christ is not in the equation.  Overly self-assured in their knowledge, power, and ability to control things, these leaders regard Christ as a superfluity in men’s affairs.

          How can faith in Jesus not bring about peace when Christ is Love?  And Love does not exclude the gentiles, the pagans, the sinners.  We must challenge ourselves—we may be baptized Christians but do we (as Sunday’s gospel Mt 28:16-20 says) observe all that Christ has commanded?  Lasting peace comes at a price, of course—and that is dying to our self in order to become authentic followers of Christ.  If it seems an impossible ideal, perhaps it is because we have yet to validate it in our own private microcosmos.

          Lasting peace is possible.  Humbly we seek Him, and in His promise find the courage to follow Him: “I am with you always, even to the end of the world.”  Christ’s peace is the only the peace we can trust and must desire, not the “peace” being peddled by the princes of a blind and greedy world.  And that’s the truth.

Gratitude: just good manners?

For The CBCP Monitor, by Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS

 One unforgettable discovery I made while living among the Muslims for a whole year in Egypt is their concept of gratitude.  It’s all enveloped in the phrase “Alhamdulillah” which means “Thanks be to God” or “Praise be to Allah.”  Our Egyptian friends (and even their small children) would utter it especially when thanking God for their blessings, but—as I observed—it wouldn’t be limited to blessings alone.  A cat scratches your leg when you step on its tail—Alhamdulillah!  You burn a dish you’re cooking— Alhamdulillah!  You hit your thumb while hammering in a nail on the wall—Alhamdulillah!

Why for goodness sake thank God for that which in another land or another culture would be called tough luck, clumsiness, or stupidity?  Simple—our highly educated friends would explain: “Alhamdulillah because it could have been worse”.

The startled cat could have bitten you, gashed a vein, given you rabies. Be thankful it is only a scratch.  Only the bottom of the dish is burnt, just scrape it off and eat the rest, thankful you didn’t burn whole kitchen.  Thumb hurting?  Thank God it’s only your thumb, and it’s still intact besides—what if it was smashed, along with the forefinger?  Still, Alhamdulillah!

Alhamdulillah may not make sense to you but it does have its value regardless of your religion—it teaches you to be calm as you take a lesson to be careful next time: if you want the universe to keep you from unnecessary harm, do have presence of mind.

This attitude common to all Arabic-speaking peoples has a parallel among the followers of Buddha who taught thus: “Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us all be thankful.”

As children we are taught to say Please, Sorry, and Thank You—the utterance of which is the hallmark of well-behaved, well-mannered children.  Thank You seemed the most often used in childhood, reflecting to a certain extent the kind of upbringing our parents gave us.  As adults we are delighted to see toddlers barely beginning to talk and yet are prompted, “What are you going to say?” whenever they are handed gifts or goodies.  And when children forget, they are reminded: “Say Thank You.”

But saying Thank You is not just a sign of good manners—it is the foundation of sound spirituality as well.  Having gratitude in our consciousness shows we take nothing for granted, for we realize that the origin of everything is a love that wills for our good.  Others may call it Force, Energy, Power, et al, but those who embrace its mystery do not hesitate to call it “God.”

When we recognize that we are created by God—that without God we could not have come to be and that this God loves us—we cannot but be grateful for everything we have and are.  Gratitude this deeply known and felt translates into real action that effects positive concrete results.  Take your body—if you regard your body as a gift from God, you express your gratitude by taking good care of the one and only body you have. You value good health, ergo you don’t abuse your body by introducing harmful substances to it (eat, drink, sniff, insert, inject, etc.).  A popular quote goes “Your life is God’s gift to you; what you do with it is your gift to God.”  Just replace “life” with “body” and you’ve got it down pat.

If humility is regarded as the mother of all virtues, gratitude is its twin sister, the manifestation of one’s awareness of one’s place in creation’s network of love.  The most peaceful beings on earth are not those who possess the most numerous material things, but those who are most grateful.  Gratitude is the key to a truly rich life.  It opens us to bravely welcome the unknown, empowers us to overcome failures, clears our vision to see the unexpected as God’s surprise visits in our lives.  Gratitude curbs our greed, tames the beast in us, and intensifies our satisfaction for whatever we have; it emboldens us to share with others not only what we have but also who we are. 

Thirteenth century German philosopher and theologian Meister Eckhart  (1260-1328) sums up the magnificence of gratitude with these words: “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is, ‘Thank you,’ it will be enough.”  Indeed, gratitude frees our whole being, because it uncovers before our inner eye the truth that we are a part of God and God is a part of us.  And that’s the truth.  J

Trusting a pope

For The CBCP Monitor, by Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS

In March 2015, Pope Francis emerged as “the most trustworthy pope” in a Social Weather Stations (SWS) survey.  Results showed that 87 percent of Filipinos have “much trust” in Pope Francis, earning for the pontiff “the highest public trust rating in the history of SWS surveys, surpassing the 72 percent of Pope John Paul II logged in 1995.”  And for some obscure purpose, the report had to mention “Pope Benedict’s net trust rating was at 58 percent in May 2005”. 

It smacks of a mundane competition.  The survey gives the impression that it was pitting one pope against another in trustworthiness.  Casually comparing popes as though they were Hollywood celebrities or ordinary world leaders reveals a lack of understanding of the Catholic religion, just as speculating on papal elections reveals ignorance of the Holy Spirit’s participation in the affairs of men.  Let’s just hope people are discerning enough to see that there was no “selfie” yet in 1995, no Facebook, Twitter or Instagram that made a “journalist” of every social media enthusiast—and incidentally made news and photos of Pope Francis reach farther and faster than at the time of Pope John Paul II’s visit.  Besides, John Paul II came for World Youth Day, while Francis came to commiserate with Yolanda victims—different occasions evoke different reactions.  As for Benedict XVI—why, he had just buried John Paul II when he got the 58 “trust rating”!  Would we let a survey label a beloved pope as “third placer” of the three?

Survey or no survey, popes deserve a 100 percent “trust rating”.  Successors of Peter are worthy of our trust.  I am convinced that the Holy Spirit always sends a pontiff who is perfectly suited for our time and need, thus whoever steps up to occupy the shoes of St. Peter is there for a reason God alone knows.  And we, as believers and avowed followers of Jesus Christ, would do best by being open to God’s plan for us, in the same way He was obedient to the Father’s will.   (Do I hear hooting and tooting from the bleachers, “Hey what about the wicked popes—murderers, war freaks, adulterers, thieves, and power trippers?”  Yes, my dears, but that’s another story, okay?)

Preoccupied with other concerns and nursing a budding agnosticism when Pope Paul VI came to the Philippines in 1970, I couldn’t care less.  He came and went—it meant nothing to me.  But after an inexplicable about-face (that in itself would take volumes to capture and still not make sense to the uninitiated), I got interested in John Paul II.  As things unfolded, I was to cover his visit to the country in 1981, seeing him for the first time at Mass in the Manila cathedral; be touched and blessed by him face to face in 1987 at the canonization rites for St. Lorenzo Ruiz in Rome; be enriched by attending three World Youth Day events with him (Philippines, France, Canada); rejoice in his presence again in the Vatican at the beatification rites for Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta; and finally, at St. Peter’s Basilica in April 2005, gratefully kneel close to his mortal remains and weep bittersweet tears at his funeral.

I did not have the good fortune of meeting Pope Benedict XVI up close and personal, but I’m certain now that it wasn’t necessary. As he presided at John Paul II’s funeral Mass, I listened intently to his homily, unaware that he would soon become pope, and I found his words to be a blessing, like rain upon parched earth.  His resignation—a single, supreme act of humility and surrender—was enough for me to be affirmed in my faith, convinced that “here, we have another living saint”.

During Pope Francis’ visit last January, media duties put me at the forefront of developments, following the pope from the moment he arrived to the minute he waved goodbye from his plane.  If I wasn’t actually covering him on site, I was following him on tv, in social media, over the radio, in print, hanging on to his every word, noting his every gesture—then duty turned into privilege; it didn’t feel like work to me, it felt more like an unceasing prayer.

On hindsight, it comes as no surprise then that Pope Francis came out as “most trustworthy pope” in the survey—albeit surveys usually ask the opinion of just a little over a thousand people.  He came on as a likable, accessible, relatable pope—everything that global media had taught us about him prior to his visit.  Choosing “mercy and compassion” as the theme of his visit, he became a flesh-and-blood reminder of humanity’s need for kindness, empathy, understanding.

It was his trip to Tacloban, however, that formed the nucleus of his 4-day visit.  When back in the Nunciature from Tacloban he said to Cardinal Tagle, “This visit is for me”, he bared his soul in five little words.  Allow me to venture a guess into the sentiment behind this enigmatic papal comment.   

For his homily in Tacloban, he asked permission to speak in his mother tongue, Spanish, to better express himself.  The first thing he said was “When in Rome I saw the damage caused by the typhoon (Yolanda), I said to myself that I must come here.”  He said he had felt the suffering of the people and wanted to be with them.

“This visit is for me.”  Pope Francis had wanted to be with the suffering but did he plan on becoming one of them?  Tropical storm Amang was coming to Tacloban that day. Was it sheer coincidence that “Amang” is the Pilipino word for “Father”?  Could the Father have wanted something else for Pope Francis in Tacloban?  Amang would frustrate human plans and the pope’s desires on that day.  Could it be that instead of somebody big coming to bring hope and healing to the victims, the Father had wanted Francis to come and experience being a victim himself?

Amang’s slanting rain and strong winds welcomed Pope Francis at the airport, blowing away a unique symbol of his papacy, his white skull cap.  (Welcome, son, you don’t need that cap here.)  He wore a cheap yellow raincoat like that the two million other people wore.  (You’re one of them).  He said Mass using a small makeshift altar on the dry side of the stage as the beautiful immobile main altar was exposed to rain.   (A humble altar does not diminish My Sacrifice.)  The Argentine pope had never experienced a typhoon all his life, but here, as Francis celebrated Mass, he was exposed to the elements, his hair windblown, like that of the life-sized figure on the cross.  (Unite yourself with the homeless naked one on the cross).  And because the storm was threatening to hit land by 3 pm, the pilot had urged the entourage to leave Tacloban by one o’clock, or risk getting stranded. This curtailed the pope’s long-awaited encounters—the lunch with calamity survivors and a meeting with the religious and clergy of Palo.  Even the blessing of the Pope Francis Center for the Poor had to done from his car which merely breezed by the Center’s entrance.

His whole Tacloban visit was cut short by four hours.  It was painful enough that Pope Francis was denied the consolation of spending more time with the poor he had come for; back in Manila he was to hear of the freak accident that took the life of a young volunteer after the Tacloban Mass.  The helplessness the disaster victims had experienced before, Pope Francis went through this time.  He was powerless before an inclement weather, and heartbroken by untimely separation from his loved ones—the poor.  Here he was, trying to be a shepherd who smells of the sheep, but he must soon go.  The brief visit was the pilot’s call, not the pope’s; popes can invoke the name of Jesus, but only Jesus can calm a storm.

So, what makes people trust a pope?  After 34 years of virtual acquaintance with three popes I still can’t say what.  Only this I know: in faith I trust the pope, and that faith is justified when all that he is proves that Jesus is alive.  Really, words are not enough.  And that’s the truth.