For practical reasons, this blog was moved to a new site: http://diceytalks.blogspot.com/
My other blog is http://marygracey.blogspot.com/
Peace^
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Thursday, September 27, 2007
a small hill of books and the rice-terraced mountains of Banawe*
Rebooked '07
Previously considered as one of the “wonders of the world,” the Banawe Rice Terraces has been edged out of the recently declared list of the new Seven Wonders of the World. But I don’t think it has ceased to evoke wonder from both foreign visitors and local tourists like me.
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to visit Ifugao, the province where the famous terraced mountains are located. It was an awe-inspiring sight, those gigantic staircases; an extraordinary inheritance, passed on from generation to generation of simple farmer folk. And it amazes me more when I think that these rice terraces has been existing for thousands of years, eked out of the mountains by a people who at that time neither had bulldozers, power tools nor degrees in engineering. Only a unified community with a tremendous resolve could have pulled off such a task. More remarkably, the rice terraces are still serving their purpose to this day, centuries after they were carved out of the mountainsides that one can actually say that the fruits of the Ifugao ancestors’ labors are still—literally—being reaped.
Sightseeing wasn’t the main reason I came to Banawe though; I was actually part of a group that went on a three-day outreach trip to Ifugao last June. Seven members representing the UP Diliman Navigators Alumni and five from Trumpets ARTreach came together for a project named ‘Rebooked’. Before we went to see the rice terraces at the end of the trip, we gave what must have been a ton of books to public elementary and high schools and a Bible school in the locale.
Like the famed rice terraces, the books we handed over to the schools were some sort of an “inheritance” too—most of the them were used (but still useful) textbooks, reference materials, and other types of literature collected from relatives, friends, co-workers, and neighbors in Metro Manila and nearby areas. There were also individuals that we met along the way who took time to find and gather books from their homes. For many of them, it offered a convenient chance to help others and a very charitable way to get rid of stuff that would otherwise go on taking up space and gathering dust in their homes.
In addition to assisting with the book donations, the Trumpets ARTreach mentors performed during the programs and directed a half-day theater workshop for the school kids that culminated with a short presentation. for the seasoned theater performers-tutors who handled similar workshops many times before, it may seem that training the Ifugao kids to perform will be a piece of cake. But it wasn’t. For one, they held classes in the non-air-conditioned halls and the modest outdoor yard of a community Bible school so that they have to bear with the heat and humidity of an extended tropical summer. And given that they have to teach a bunch of rambunctious kids with nary a theater experience, from the small agricultural town of Lamut where the primary spoken languages are Ilocano and Ifugao…well, helping these children give satisfactory performances in just a few hours definitely wasn’t easy at all.
Neither were the tasks of collecting, sorting and packing the books, raising funds to bring them to Ifugao, and organizing the team. To begin with, we were just a group of friends who, although with previous experiences in similar activities, would be carrying out this project sans the full scaffold of institutions or organizations. It was overwhelming, to say the least. And it became more daunting when after a lot of backbreaking work, our fund-raisers didn’t generate the expected cash, books were coming at a slow pace, and the trip schedule was moved several times. In our eyes, we didn’t have enough money, we were relatively undermanned, and we lacked preparation. All we really had, apart from the steadfast support of friends, is the heart to reach out to others and the conviction that this is what God has led us to do as an answer to our prayers.
But by a power I'm sure was not ours, we were able to bring the books to the schools of Ifugao. The teachers and the school kids gave us a reception with such warmth rivaled only by the bright-sunshine-and-clear-blue-sky weather we had during those three days. The reading and theater workshops we conducted the second day were well-attended and by the end of the afternoon, we were able to help the kids come up with decent skits of the Parable of the Lost Sheep and The Parable of the Sower. We had them perform in the lawn of the Tribal Gospel Missions Bible School compound just before sunset. The light was perfect and a cool breeze was blowing. I didn't see Him, but somehow I knew that, as the kids take the field to give a rendition of Jesus’ parables with such heartfelt enthusiasm, God was smiling as He watched.
Yet unknown to others at that time, each of us would rather do something else or have the project accomplished in another, “better” way. Personal concerns—none of which were too trivial to be left behind in Manila—hijacked our backpacks and we lugged them to Ifugao along with the books and our extra clothes. It was but natural then, that some would rather seek solace on their own and tend to these internal matters than deal with a hundred giddy children. We were, in our hearts, actually longing for a chance to soak in days of mercy—those days in the boxing ring of life when you hear the bell ring and you’re allowed to go to your corner where somebody lets you sip solace, towels off your weariness, and dabs relief on your battered face.^
For the Rebooked team, this boxing round started earlier. Midway through preparations, the project leader faced insecurities about his capacity to lead the team and privately entertained doubts about Rebooked's completion. As it turned out, those times of apprehension were actually God's way of redirecting the heart's course. If everything went well as we planned them, God knows we may succumb to the temptation of taking the credit. But God wasn’t teaching us about project management; what He wanted us to learn is to depend on His provision for what we need and what is necessary in His work. After all, it is from Him that we desire to bring goodness to others (Ephesians 2:10) and from Him that we get all the resources to do so (John 15:5).
Still, many in the team were also concerned about bringing long-term results in such a short time. Will providing books to some far-flung school library do much to raise the level of education of the young there? Even if it did, what assurances do we have that our good deed will bear fruit and contribute to transforming a generation of Filipinos to become more learned, responsible and responsive citizens? And from an even larger perspective I asked, will these books matter in the grand scheme of eternal life for the Ifugaos?
Sometimes it is difficult to grasp the power of one. It takes extra effort to convince ourselves that, yes, the little good deed that we do—with second-hand books, over one weekend, or whatever we find ourselves with—can be used by God to effect change. Like the ripples that a small stone makes when it is dropped in a still pond, our small acts of faithfulness have the potential to grow into eternal significance. Through Rebooked, my friends and I learned to appreciate more the transforming power of God. I realized that His work cannot be limited by anything, certainly not by the little time or money we had. Whether it’s a short encounter or a lifelong friendship, a hefty amount of cash or second-hand goods, God can break and multiply the few loaves of bread and the small fish we have to feed crowds who are hungry for His mercy and compassion.
I don’t think any of us got to spend time alone that weekend. But I’m certain that neither was anyone disappointed with how Rebooked turned out. True, it’s difficult to be selfless, to think about other people’s needs before ours—to be unconditionally giving isn’t the default setting of human nature since the fall. And to let the world know about His love and His gift of salvation while we ourselves are still learning to receive and live out His grace and redemption appears to be a mammoth task. But if a community of primitive farmers can make rice paddies come out of mountains, I'm sure the Church can make a harvest of the world. And I'm glad to be part of it.
Just a couple of weeks after the Banawe outreach, still sleep-deprived and scrambling to meet my job deadlines, I attended a short course on Transformational Development. On the first day of sessions, I distinctly heard the main speaker talk about an indication of real transformation in a community. She said that a community has been positively transformed if the development workers feel that they have benefited more from the people they serve than they have given to that community. This reminded me of Rebooked’s last day in Ifugao. Exhausted and sleepy as we were in the bus back to Manila, that is exactly how we felt just before we left the place—that we gained more than we gave away. Of course, that's nothing new. Didn’t Jesus say, about 2,000 years ago, that it is better to give than to receive?
A few months ago, I had the opportunity to visit Ifugao, the province where the famous terraced mountains are located. It was an awe-inspiring sight, those gigantic staircases; an extraordinary inheritance, passed on from generation to generation of simple farmer folk. And it amazes me more when I think that these rice terraces has been existing for thousands of years, eked out of the mountains by a people who at that time neither had bulldozers, power tools nor degrees in engineering. Only a unified community with a tremendous resolve could have pulled off such a task. More remarkably, the rice terraces are still serving their purpose to this day, centuries after they were carved out of the mountainsides that one can actually say that the fruits of the Ifugao ancestors’ labors are still—literally—being reaped.
Sightseeing wasn’t the main reason I came to Banawe though; I was actually part of a group that went on a three-day outreach trip to Ifugao last June. Seven members representing the UP Diliman Navigators Alumni and five from Trumpets ARTreach came together for a project named ‘Rebooked’. Before we went to see the rice terraces at the end of the trip, we gave what must have been a ton of books to public elementary and high schools and a Bible school in the locale.
Like the famed rice terraces, the books we handed over to the schools were some sort of an “inheritance” too—most of the them were used (but still useful) textbooks, reference materials, and other types of literature collected from relatives, friends, co-workers, and neighbors in Metro Manila and nearby areas. There were also individuals that we met along the way who took time to find and gather books from their homes. For many of them, it offered a convenient chance to help others and a very charitable way to get rid of stuff that would otherwise go on taking up space and gathering dust in their homes.
In addition to assisting with the book donations, the Trumpets ARTreach mentors performed during the programs and directed a half-day theater workshop for the school kids that culminated with a short presentation. for the seasoned theater performers-tutors who handled similar workshops many times before, it may seem that training the Ifugao kids to perform will be a piece of cake. But it wasn’t. For one, they held classes in the non-air-conditioned halls and the modest outdoor yard of a community Bible school so that they have to bear with the heat and humidity of an extended tropical summer. And given that they have to teach a bunch of rambunctious kids with nary a theater experience, from the small agricultural town of Lamut where the primary spoken languages are Ilocano and Ifugao…well, helping these children give satisfactory performances in just a few hours definitely wasn’t easy at all.
Neither were the tasks of collecting, sorting and packing the books, raising funds to bring them to Ifugao, and organizing the team. To begin with, we were just a group of friends who, although with previous experiences in similar activities, would be carrying out this project sans the full scaffold of institutions or organizations. It was overwhelming, to say the least. And it became more daunting when after a lot of backbreaking work, our fund-raisers didn’t generate the expected cash, books were coming at a slow pace, and the trip schedule was moved several times. In our eyes, we didn’t have enough money, we were relatively undermanned, and we lacked preparation. All we really had, apart from the steadfast support of friends, is the heart to reach out to others and the conviction that this is what God has led us to do as an answer to our prayers.
But by a power I'm sure was not ours, we were able to bring the books to the schools of Ifugao. The teachers and the school kids gave us a reception with such warmth rivaled only by the bright-sunshine-and-clear-blue-sky weather we had during those three days. The reading and theater workshops we conducted the second day were well-attended and by the end of the afternoon, we were able to help the kids come up with decent skits of the Parable of the Lost Sheep and The Parable of the Sower. We had them perform in the lawn of the Tribal Gospel Missions Bible School compound just before sunset. The light was perfect and a cool breeze was blowing. I didn't see Him, but somehow I knew that, as the kids take the field to give a rendition of Jesus’ parables with such heartfelt enthusiasm, God was smiling as He watched.
Yet unknown to others at that time, each of us would rather do something else or have the project accomplished in another, “better” way. Personal concerns—none of which were too trivial to be left behind in Manila—hijacked our backpacks and we lugged them to Ifugao along with the books and our extra clothes. It was but natural then, that some would rather seek solace on their own and tend to these internal matters than deal with a hundred giddy children. We were, in our hearts, actually longing for a chance to soak in days of mercy—those days in the boxing ring of life when you hear the bell ring and you’re allowed to go to your corner where somebody lets you sip solace, towels off your weariness, and dabs relief on your battered face.^
For the Rebooked team, this boxing round started earlier. Midway through preparations, the project leader faced insecurities about his capacity to lead the team and privately entertained doubts about Rebooked's completion. As it turned out, those times of apprehension were actually God's way of redirecting the heart's course. If everything went well as we planned them, God knows we may succumb to the temptation of taking the credit. But God wasn’t teaching us about project management; what He wanted us to learn is to depend on His provision for what we need and what is necessary in His work. After all, it is from Him that we desire to bring goodness to others (Ephesians 2:10) and from Him that we get all the resources to do so (John 15:5).
Still, many in the team were also concerned about bringing long-term results in such a short time. Will providing books to some far-flung school library do much to raise the level of education of the young there? Even if it did, what assurances do we have that our good deed will bear fruit and contribute to transforming a generation of Filipinos to become more learned, responsible and responsive citizens? And from an even larger perspective I asked, will these books matter in the grand scheme of eternal life for the Ifugaos?
Sometimes it is difficult to grasp the power of one. It takes extra effort to convince ourselves that, yes, the little good deed that we do—with second-hand books, over one weekend, or whatever we find ourselves with—can be used by God to effect change. Like the ripples that a small stone makes when it is dropped in a still pond, our small acts of faithfulness have the potential to grow into eternal significance. Through Rebooked, my friends and I learned to appreciate more the transforming power of God. I realized that His work cannot be limited by anything, certainly not by the little time or money we had. Whether it’s a short encounter or a lifelong friendship, a hefty amount of cash or second-hand goods, God can break and multiply the few loaves of bread and the small fish we have to feed crowds who are hungry for His mercy and compassion.
I don’t think any of us got to spend time alone that weekend. But I’m certain that neither was anyone disappointed with how Rebooked turned out. True, it’s difficult to be selfless, to think about other people’s needs before ours—to be unconditionally giving isn’t the default setting of human nature since the fall. And to let the world know about His love and His gift of salvation while we ourselves are still learning to receive and live out His grace and redemption appears to be a mammoth task. But if a community of primitive farmers can make rice paddies come out of mountains, I'm sure the Church can make a harvest of the world. And I'm glad to be part of it.
Just a couple of weeks after the Banawe outreach, still sleep-deprived and scrambling to meet my job deadlines, I attended a short course on Transformational Development. On the first day of sessions, I distinctly heard the main speaker talk about an indication of real transformation in a community. She said that a community has been positively transformed if the development workers feel that they have benefited more from the people they serve than they have given to that community. This reminded me of Rebooked’s last day in Ifugao. Exhausted and sleepy as we were in the bus back to Manila, that is exactly how we felt just before we left the place—that we gained more than we gave away. Of course, that's nothing new. Didn’t Jesus say, about 2,000 years ago, that it is better to give than to receive?
*with JC Gotinga, Jean Francis Barcena, Roovin Estrellanes, and Alexander Tan
^ metaphor partly adapted from Sue Monk Kidd's work
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Musings of an Ordinary Christian (Part 3)
I must post this real quick after writing it before I begin to proofread--it might get sucked in the black hole of my incessant editing, being no authority on these topics and now claiming to be the most relatively apolitical in the circles I inhabit (Nothing to be proud of but nothing to be ashamed of either—that’s just me).
I Voted for God
Weeks before the elections, at the height of the campaign frenzy, I made an effort to pin down thoughts on my particular reason for voting: I need to have a stronger purpose than the mere exercise of suffrage to make it worth the 6-hour bus travel to my home province where I’m a registered voter. For those who ever spent a part of their lives in the provinces (i.e. country/rural areas), there is that noticeable sense of how hours seem to trickle more slowly than when they are in the fast-paced environs of cities, which are most often associated with the workplace. And May 14th was no exception. That day, even with the three o’clock closing of election precincts drawing near, I still felt that I had all the time in the world to catch up with my 91-year old lolo, pick and eat tree-ripened mangoes from our backyard. Plus, the much-needed respite from work makes it less appealing to trudge to the polling precincts. It was a muggy day, and it wasn’t difficult to think of better things to do than to jot down the names of people I hardly met or know, and be a hand in setting them up to either succor the common Filipino’s well-being or be among those who end up funneling the huge sum of taxes I and most employed Filipinos shell out regularly from our hard-earned pay into their already well-padded personal coffers.
But the main motivation to vote is condensed in this one question: Does my vote really matter? In other words, can a single ballot—a piece of paper specifying which political runners I cast my approval on—actually help change the course of our country’s economy? `There were, in fact, more blank lines than names written in my ballot, because I can’t bring myself to scribble names in it for reasons other than my conviction that they have the best abilities (note the relativistic term) to fulfill the responsibilities of their office and there honest and sincere motives to serve their fellow Filipinos.
Holding back prejudice and not succumbing to stereotypes, my thoughts transcend doubts and accede to the likelihood that there are still people who, out of good intentions, seek to be elected as public servant* to the other Filipinos. But just out of mere speculation, I can’t help but throw this query out in the air: Why don’t movie stars, actors (there’s a difference between the two: commercial vs. craft; but of course one can be both), athletes, and other celebrities—including the 15-minute famous—stick to show business, sports, or whatever gave them celebrity status in the first place? Surely the fame and money from these two trades are more than enough to satisfy ego, necessity and caprice. Do they think they make better political leaders than entertainers or athletes? Or is it because of the underlying pursuit of power? Isn’t power as intoxicating as money? For just like riches, power is a root of evil. And don’t political positions offer just that: power and prestige with money and fame?
While it ensures that the local media and entertainment mill keeps on churning, the issue of qualification, ability, morality, honesty, and authenticity of political candidates is merely a splinter of the yoke that burdens majority of Filipinos. Most recently, several incumbent officials are touting that, as a result of their hard work, the GDP and the Phil. Peso have gone up. Nonetheless, the prices of fossil fuel-based energy sources are also in an upswing. And then there are the escalated number of extrajudicial murders, politically related abductions (my heart simply goes out to the mother of an activist, whatever her son did for some people to think that he deserves to either die alive or live in death), the relentless accusations of election fraud, and the mainstays of the Philippine predicament: corruption, slothful law enforcement, the shoddy quality of education, and the mismanagement and abuse of natural resources.
This is the Filipino scenario. Like any regular Filipino and well-meaning human, I want to see a better snapshot of the Philippines. But focus your binoculars elsewhere and you get:
· The civil chaos in East Timor, which are signs of excruciating birth pangs and growing pains even five years after its birth as an independent nation.
· The blood-stained coals of China—the black gold of that country’s mining industry—being the more truthful and accurate witness to the life-for-profit barter that has been fueling the industrial metamorphosis of the Middle Kingdom, never mind the human rights and environmental ramifications.
· The diplomatic and political muddle that is the war in Iraq. (Can’t make that much comment since it’s become personal for us—an uncle and two cousins were there, recalled into active duty as an Army, a Marine, and an Airman respectively.)
· The heartbreaking saga of hostility and turmoil in Darfur and Sudan that is spilling over the neighboring state of Chad.
· The escalating ferocity of the internal conflict between the Sunnis and the Shi’ites (the two major factions within Islam) in the Middle East that has already undermined and defiantly thwarted the U.S. and its allies’ efforts to promote order (if not, the long sought for “peace”) in the region and has promptly bulldozed into shambles the hope of building a stable Iraq in the near future.
· The ‘universal’ environmental crisis popularly known as global warming.
· Poverty—arguably the silent plague of the 20th and 21st centuries. An estimated eight million die each year from hunger, meaning that people pass away just because they are too poor to eat, and this figure only pertains to the more or less documented ones.
(And other less known but equally significant events and dilemma of the human suffering)
Without undermining the enormity of these tribulations that beset many countries around the globe, the reality is that, as followers of Christ, these are not our foremost concerns. What I’m saying is that both nationality and (political/geographical) citizenship are only elements making up our identity. The fact that I’m Filipino is an element of my identity, just like my skintone, my inherent personality, my gifts, etc.—and wherever I go and find myself these will always be a part of me, of who I am. My core identity is that of the beloved of God (to paraphrase Henri Nouwen), redeemed by Yeshua Adonai and now His co-worker (by His grace), a citizen of heaven, among others. I didn’t have a choice where I’d be born or who my parents are. But I can choose to be grateful to God or to trust in Him for what He has given me and where He has placed me at this point in my life.
And here is another question: Which is easier to accomplish, winning a hardened heart for God or eradicating poverty and pollution? (sana parang ganon sa mga tanong ni Jesus sa mga taong nakasalamuha niya. Genius talaga si Jesus sa art of questioning at sa lahat ng bagay. Idol na idol ko Siya!) To humans, both are unattainable to say the least, as we desperately need the Holy Spirit to do anything of value, particularly those with eternal repercussions. (Of course some unbelievers are immensely talented and have achieved a lot. But isn’t God the One who made them and gave them these abilities?)
Bill Gates and Bono maybe right about poverty and AIDS, as well as Al Gore and Leo di Caprio on pollution and global warming—but only in part. (Hmm, a scientist-businessman and a rockstar/musician; a politician-author and a movie star/actor—pretty interesting tandems). Didn’t Jesus say that the poor will always be with us? Yet he also said to never turn down anyone who asks for relief and to show them His love by helping them. Perhaps the needy were made ubiquitous across eras and places to remind us of our own poverty—that people are essentially impoverished and lacking in every way (save for appearances) apart from Christ. Isn’t our God bigger than any of these seemingly enormous and insurmountable challenges that face mankind? Didn’t the Scriptures say:
“15 Surely the nations are like a drop in a bucket; they are regarded as dust on the scales; he weighs the islands as though they were fine dust.
16 Lebanon is not sufficient for altar fires, nor its animals enough for burnt offerings.
17 Before him all the nations are as nothing; they are regarded by him as worthless and less than nothing. Isaiah 40:13-17, (NIV)
More relevant verses come to mind. Passages that pertain to the bigger truth about our citizenship, the prescribed way of living given the present dual nature of our ‘residency,’ and our current responsibilities to the political/geographical countries we have been placed in. (Mat 17:24-27, 22:15-21; Rom 13:1-7; 2 Tim 2:3-7; 1 Pe 2:11-20; Phil 3:17-20; Eph 2:19; 2 Pe 3:11, etc) They’ve always reminded me that my foremost allegiance is to my Liege and Lord God who is the President, King, Emperor, Tsar, Chancellor, Prince Regent, Prime Minister, etc. of the one enduring nation in heaven comprised of Christ’s church—us.
So which do we pour our attention and energies on? Not that one is more imperative than the other, just the proverbial two sides of a coin: when individuals die because of “preventable” hunger, more souls will probably miss out on the opportunity to hear the gospel (given that there are people willing to reach out to where the impoverished are). And when species of plants and animals become extinct, and the environment in general are neglected and exploited, we disregard our Creator’s mandate to be good stewards of the rest of His creation. (Hence, the integrative-holistic ministry of the Navs and its slogan)
We’re sure that Christ will emerge as the ultimate Victor in the ancient grand war with the enemy and evil. But right now, the battle is within and without. It’s up to each of us to choose to be part of it. I’ve just described a tiny portion of our external battlefield. A good example of the battle inside is Abby Sison’s account of how she overcame her initial unease (et al) to communicate the gospel to some strangers. This is reminiscent of the instances when I have to overcome my innate timidity to obey the Holy Spirit’s prodding to naturally interweave the gospel in my conversations with people I meet everyday. It’s also like choosing not to gripe against my (former) bosses when the rest are doing just that or to complain about my job situation. (And so goes the list...)
For me, casting my vote is within the concept of living out the gospel as a way of conveying it to those close to us and to those that we meet in the busy, lonely, arduous streets of life. Thus, I voted not because I’m one who is certain that my words or deeds can actually produce a considerable dent in the armor of evil and the enemy. I try to do things (in God’s strength) because it is aligned to the will of God and that we trust Him to do the impossible and change people’s hearts and bring them back to Him.
And voting is also a lot like Rebooked (halata na yata na under orders kami ni boss Roovin na kung ano man ang isulat o i-post namin, dapat ang lusot at labas ay Rebooked pa rin J Peace kapatid!) It may seem that endeavors like Rebooked by ordinary people like us are, well, a drop in the bucket. But a kid who picks up one important lesson from reading the books we delivered to them is a huge deal already.
There's a chorus of a song that somehow gives me a smile when a sense of futility threatens to intimidate:
“Like sand on a mountain,
Rain on a fountain,
Shade on a shadow,
A breeze in a tornado
Just do what you can
Clap with one hand
And shine all your light in the sun.”
And so I post this as a bigger reminder to myself. And it goes with saying: so help me God, so help us God.
* It’s ‘public servant’ not ‘public lord’ right? Ano kaya ang nasa isip ng nag-coin ng phrase na ito? Siguro hindi pa siya nakarating sa Pilipinas .
I Voted for God
Weeks before the elections, at the height of the campaign frenzy, I made an effort to pin down thoughts on my particular reason for voting: I need to have a stronger purpose than the mere exercise of suffrage to make it worth the 6-hour bus travel to my home province where I’m a registered voter. For those who ever spent a part of their lives in the provinces (i.e. country/rural areas), there is that noticeable sense of how hours seem to trickle more slowly than when they are in the fast-paced environs of cities, which are most often associated with the workplace. And May 14th was no exception. That day, even with the three o’clock closing of election precincts drawing near, I still felt that I had all the time in the world to catch up with my 91-year old lolo, pick and eat tree-ripened mangoes from our backyard. Plus, the much-needed respite from work makes it less appealing to trudge to the polling precincts. It was a muggy day, and it wasn’t difficult to think of better things to do than to jot down the names of people I hardly met or know, and be a hand in setting them up to either succor the common Filipino’s well-being or be among those who end up funneling the huge sum of taxes I and most employed Filipinos shell out regularly from our hard-earned pay into their already well-padded personal coffers.
But the main motivation to vote is condensed in this one question: Does my vote really matter? In other words, can a single ballot—a piece of paper specifying which political runners I cast my approval on—actually help change the course of our country’s economy? `There were, in fact, more blank lines than names written in my ballot, because I can’t bring myself to scribble names in it for reasons other than my conviction that they have the best abilities (note the relativistic term) to fulfill the responsibilities of their office and there honest and sincere motives to serve their fellow Filipinos.
Holding back prejudice and not succumbing to stereotypes, my thoughts transcend doubts and accede to the likelihood that there are still people who, out of good intentions, seek to be elected as public servant* to the other Filipinos. But just out of mere speculation, I can’t help but throw this query out in the air: Why don’t movie stars, actors (there’s a difference between the two: commercial vs. craft; but of course one can be both), athletes, and other celebrities—including the 15-minute famous—stick to show business, sports, or whatever gave them celebrity status in the first place? Surely the fame and money from these two trades are more than enough to satisfy ego, necessity and caprice. Do they think they make better political leaders than entertainers or athletes? Or is it because of the underlying pursuit of power? Isn’t power as intoxicating as money? For just like riches, power is a root of evil. And don’t political positions offer just that: power and prestige with money and fame?
While it ensures that the local media and entertainment mill keeps on churning, the issue of qualification, ability, morality, honesty, and authenticity of political candidates is merely a splinter of the yoke that burdens majority of Filipinos. Most recently, several incumbent officials are touting that, as a result of their hard work, the GDP and the Phil. Peso have gone up. Nonetheless, the prices of fossil fuel-based energy sources are also in an upswing. And then there are the escalated number of extrajudicial murders, politically related abductions (my heart simply goes out to the mother of an activist, whatever her son did for some people to think that he deserves to either die alive or live in death), the relentless accusations of election fraud, and the mainstays of the Philippine predicament: corruption, slothful law enforcement, the shoddy quality of education, and the mismanagement and abuse of natural resources.
This is the Filipino scenario. Like any regular Filipino and well-meaning human, I want to see a better snapshot of the Philippines. But focus your binoculars elsewhere and you get:
· The civil chaos in East Timor, which are signs of excruciating birth pangs and growing pains even five years after its birth as an independent nation.
· The blood-stained coals of China—the black gold of that country’s mining industry—being the more truthful and accurate witness to the life-for-profit barter that has been fueling the industrial metamorphosis of the Middle Kingdom, never mind the human rights and environmental ramifications.
· The diplomatic and political muddle that is the war in Iraq. (Can’t make that much comment since it’s become personal for us—an uncle and two cousins were there, recalled into active duty as an Army, a Marine, and an Airman respectively.)
· The heartbreaking saga of hostility and turmoil in Darfur and Sudan that is spilling over the neighboring state of Chad.
· The escalating ferocity of the internal conflict between the Sunnis and the Shi’ites (the two major factions within Islam) in the Middle East that has already undermined and defiantly thwarted the U.S. and its allies’ efforts to promote order (if not, the long sought for “peace”) in the region and has promptly bulldozed into shambles the hope of building a stable Iraq in the near future.
· The ‘universal’ environmental crisis popularly known as global warming.
· Poverty—arguably the silent plague of the 20th and 21st centuries. An estimated eight million die each year from hunger, meaning that people pass away just because they are too poor to eat, and this figure only pertains to the more or less documented ones.
(And other less known but equally significant events and dilemma of the human suffering)
Without undermining the enormity of these tribulations that beset many countries around the globe, the reality is that, as followers of Christ, these are not our foremost concerns. What I’m saying is that both nationality and (political/geographical) citizenship are only elements making up our identity. The fact that I’m Filipino is an element of my identity, just like my skintone, my inherent personality, my gifts, etc.—and wherever I go and find myself these will always be a part of me, of who I am. My core identity is that of the beloved of God (to paraphrase Henri Nouwen), redeemed by Yeshua Adonai and now His co-worker (by His grace), a citizen of heaven, among others. I didn’t have a choice where I’d be born or who my parents are. But I can choose to be grateful to God or to trust in Him for what He has given me and where He has placed me at this point in my life.
And here is another question: Which is easier to accomplish, winning a hardened heart for God or eradicating poverty and pollution? (sana parang ganon sa mga tanong ni Jesus sa mga taong nakasalamuha niya. Genius talaga si Jesus sa art of questioning at sa lahat ng bagay. Idol na idol ko Siya!) To humans, both are unattainable to say the least, as we desperately need the Holy Spirit to do anything of value, particularly those with eternal repercussions. (Of course some unbelievers are immensely talented and have achieved a lot. But isn’t God the One who made them and gave them these abilities?)
Bill Gates and Bono maybe right about poverty and AIDS, as well as Al Gore and Leo di Caprio on pollution and global warming—but only in part. (Hmm, a scientist-businessman and a rockstar/musician; a politician-author and a movie star/actor—pretty interesting tandems). Didn’t Jesus say that the poor will always be with us? Yet he also said to never turn down anyone who asks for relief and to show them His love by helping them. Perhaps the needy were made ubiquitous across eras and places to remind us of our own poverty—that people are essentially impoverished and lacking in every way (save for appearances) apart from Christ. Isn’t our God bigger than any of these seemingly enormous and insurmountable challenges that face mankind? Didn’t the Scriptures say:
“15 Surely the nations are like a drop in a bucket; they are regarded as dust on the scales; he weighs the islands as though they were fine dust.
16 Lebanon is not sufficient for altar fires, nor its animals enough for burnt offerings.
17 Before him all the nations are as nothing; they are regarded by him as worthless and less than nothing. Isaiah 40:13-17, (NIV)
More relevant verses come to mind. Passages that pertain to the bigger truth about our citizenship, the prescribed way of living given the present dual nature of our ‘residency,’ and our current responsibilities to the political/geographical countries we have been placed in. (Mat 17:24-27, 22:15-21; Rom 13:1-7; 2 Tim 2:3-7; 1 Pe 2:11-20; Phil 3:17-20; Eph 2:19; 2 Pe 3:11, etc) They’ve always reminded me that my foremost allegiance is to my Liege and Lord God who is the President, King, Emperor, Tsar, Chancellor, Prince Regent, Prime Minister, etc. of the one enduring nation in heaven comprised of Christ’s church—us.
So which do we pour our attention and energies on? Not that one is more imperative than the other, just the proverbial two sides of a coin: when individuals die because of “preventable” hunger, more souls will probably miss out on the opportunity to hear the gospel (given that there are people willing to reach out to where the impoverished are). And when species of plants and animals become extinct, and the environment in general are neglected and exploited, we disregard our Creator’s mandate to be good stewards of the rest of His creation. (Hence, the integrative-holistic ministry of the Navs and its slogan)
We’re sure that Christ will emerge as the ultimate Victor in the ancient grand war with the enemy and evil. But right now, the battle is within and without. It’s up to each of us to choose to be part of it. I’ve just described a tiny portion of our external battlefield. A good example of the battle inside is Abby Sison’s account of how she overcame her initial unease (et al) to communicate the gospel to some strangers. This is reminiscent of the instances when I have to overcome my innate timidity to obey the Holy Spirit’s prodding to naturally interweave the gospel in my conversations with people I meet everyday. It’s also like choosing not to gripe against my (former) bosses when the rest are doing just that or to complain about my job situation. (And so goes the list...)
For me, casting my vote is within the concept of living out the gospel as a way of conveying it to those close to us and to those that we meet in the busy, lonely, arduous streets of life. Thus, I voted not because I’m one who is certain that my words or deeds can actually produce a considerable dent in the armor of evil and the enemy. I try to do things (in God’s strength) because it is aligned to the will of God and that we trust Him to do the impossible and change people’s hearts and bring them back to Him.
And voting is also a lot like Rebooked (halata na yata na under orders kami ni boss Roovin na kung ano man ang isulat o i-post namin, dapat ang lusot at labas ay Rebooked pa rin J Peace kapatid!) It may seem that endeavors like Rebooked by ordinary people like us are, well, a drop in the bucket. But a kid who picks up one important lesson from reading the books we delivered to them is a huge deal already.
There's a chorus of a song that somehow gives me a smile when a sense of futility threatens to intimidate:
“Like sand on a mountain,
Rain on a fountain,
Shade on a shadow,
A breeze in a tornado
Just do what you can
Clap with one hand
And shine all your light in the sun.”
And so I post this as a bigger reminder to myself. And it goes with saying: so help me God, so help us God.
* It’s ‘public servant’ not ‘public lord’ right? Ano kaya ang nasa isip ng nag-coin ng phrase na ito? Siguro hindi pa siya nakarating sa Pilipinas .
Monday, April 9, 2007
Autopsy of Sadness
Sadness...
I want to seize you by your throat
See if I could wrangle out the reason why
you hound me like a madman
I fumble for the knife of joy in my raiment
so that I could plunge it to your heart,
to the heart of sadness
Pulse pounding, overpowered
I grip the pen and try to bleed it
for thoughts, for words
Perchance, once I spew it
it will no longer threaten to choke me;
squeeze the life out of gladness and channel it
to the river of sadness
Blind in the dark
with only a sliver of hope
Hole in the night help me to see
as I flee to the waters
and sit in the sea of silence
My eyes are waterfalls flowing
to the bottom of sadness
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