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.  

    

    

Squeezing milk out of stone

For The CBCP Montor, by Teresa R. Tunay, OCDS
      With the Holy Week behind us, it’s “business as usual”.  And that means—Back to the Mamasapano hearings, yehey!

Eating up a good deal of time as the Congress hearing began was the issue of whether or not the President should be invited to the hearing to “answer questions”.  Malacanang was said to be willing to answer the questions in writing—if the Congress would email them to the President. (Hah, tactical moves by texts and investigation by email—how techie could we get?)

If the prolonged, repetitive and noisy debate on the issue accomplished anything, it was merely to separate not exactly the sheep from the goats, nor the wheat from the chaff, but congressman from congressman, according to color.  Same genus, different species—some yellow, others not yellow; some noisy, others noisier.

Seriously do they still hope or expect that their needling will bring out the truth, the whole  truth, and nothing but the truth? After having followed the hearings since the BOI investigation started, I now find the matter rather tiresome, if not a hopeless case.  It’s been more than two months now since the bloody encounter, and the same questions remain unsatisfactorily answered.  Meanwhile, so many side issues crop up regarding the other aspects of the tragedy, but these serve only to distract us from the principal one which is—why such a delicate operation was entrusted, and clandestinely, too, by the President to a suspended police chief.  That is the crux of the matter—which only the President can resolve. Why won’t he do so?

Because the President is not capable of doing it, and can you blame Noynoy for just being himself?  Surely our Congressmen and Senators without political ambitions for 2016 can read the writing on the wall and show this to the people!  From the start he has consistently been his apathetic self—missing in times of disaster, disabled by crises, silent when his “bosses” are clamoring to hear from a leader.  (What a short memory we have if we’ve forgotten about the Luneta hostage-taking incident and the Yolanda tragedy!)  The forgiving Filipinos, however, would no longer tolerate Noynoy’s low EQ (Emotional Quotient) so that when he chose to attend a car manufacturing event over meeting the 44 fallen soldiers coming home in coffins, his popularity began to spiral to an all time low.

The headlines recently blared out: “Pinoy trust approval, sumadsad sa pinakamababa since 2010”. But does he care?  “Palasyo, binale-wala ang bagsak na rating ni Pinoy.”   So there.

There was short-lived clamor for the President to apologize (at least for the sake of the bereaved families), since he was perceived as the main playor in the Mamasapano plan, but it was ignored or dismissed as silly.  Palace spokesmen even had the temerity to announce, “The President has already stated that he owns total responsibility, etc. etc.”  Do things look like this man would ever “answer questions”?  And if he does open his mouth would the answers be–or at least point to—the truth?

This is the only President we have had who refuses to wear a Philippine flag pin on his chest—instead he clings to the yellow ribbon, a contradictory symbol of tragedy and victory in his personal life.  What else can we do?  Noynoy is being himself, very “personal”, not “national” in spite of his position.  He values his friends and brutally excoriates his enemies, because he sincerely believes only those who are with him can be right. 

He capitalizes on his  “spotless record” and his family name which the vagaries of history have lacquered and magnified to superhuman proportions.  He needs friends to run a country like a legless man needs a crutch; and he has friends to coddle his self-image as a righteous leader.  When ordinary citizens in social media comment on his less-than-gentlemanly behavior, his friends in the Palace and his celebrity sister come to the rescue: “Poor poor Noynoy, why do you do this to him?  You’re so cruel!”

Noynoy’s friends come from far and wide, and with the prodding of powerful allies that make him feel he is superior to the Constitution, he gets away with murder: public funds go to pots and pockets unknown to legislators, laws are passed devoid of conscience, wars are plotted in secret with friends.  Will the President tell the truth?  I don’t think so.  His hands are tied; he cannot tell the whole truth without risking national security and even his life.  That is what happens when in a man’s conceit he fails to see that his powerful friends have turned him into a dummy.  Will Noynoy apologize?  At the way he’s sounding, he believes he has done nothing wrong. Self-righteousness blinds a man to his own errors.  His Holy Week messages, aired repeatedly on tv, surprisingly rang like homilies—so strange, coming from a man whose hardness of heart has made him consistently disregard Church teachings.

Will the President ever tell the truth about Mamasapano?  His years in office have uncovered his limitations.  Expecting Noynoy to say more than he has said, or to stoop in remorse over the consequences of his actions would be like squeezing milk out of stone.  And that’s the truth.