Hail to the Drama King!

Philippine Daily Inquirer's Mr. John Nery writes a feature story on Gibbs Cadiz and bestows on him the title of -- Yehey!!! -- "Drama King."

Congrats, Gibbs!

Friend and Sano Gibbs Cadiz just won Best Blog-Arts & Culture category in the just-concluded Philippine Blog Awards 2008. Visit his blog and find out why he deserves said award and more. Click here.

Congratulations Gibbs! We're so proud of you!

Erap's Masa

This piece was written in 1998, just a few days after the presidential elections which catapulted Erap to the Palace-by-the-River. I am reprinting it for the same reasons that moved me to write it a decade ago. Obviously, Erap is still Erap - the Sandiganbayan's verdict finding him guilty of plunder notwithstanding.

THE MASSES: A PEEK INTO ERAP’S LEGIONS

“‘What is your name?’ Jesus asked (the demoniac). ‘My name is Legion,’ he answered,‘for there are many of us.’”

(From the Gerasene Demoniac, Mk. 5:9-10)


The election of Joseph “Erap” Ejercito Estrada to the presidency highlights the emergence of a “new” ruling class -- the masses. Credit – or blame – is being lavished on them. If Corazon “Cory” Aquino was catapulted to the presidency by People Power and Fidel V. Ramos by the anointment and popularity of Cory Aquino (and some say by “Dagdag-bawas”), Erap is brought to the Palace-by-the-River by the “Eraption” of votes courtesy of the masses.

The masses, the legions, the hoi polloi, the masa, the bakya crowd in the GenX jargon, the “herd” according to the father of Existentialism Soren Kierkegaard, and, as many will argue, the Proletariat -- who are they?

In survey-speak, class A and class B are the elite, class C are those from the middle class, class D are the poor, and class E are the very poor or the destitute. In the Social Weather Stations (SWS) exit poll conducted just a few days before the May 11 elections, Erap got 52 percent from among the combined class DE which compose the majority of voters, and 18 percent from the A, B, and C classes. These evidently, are Erap’s masa.

Who are the Erap masa?

1. From the ranks of the poor. The Erap masa, first and foremost, belong to the ranks of the poor -- 52 percent from class DE and 18 percent from class ABC. The SWS national survey of April 1997 revealed that 58 percent of families classified themselves as poor. This is about 7.75 million families. It is further estimated that there are at least 2.3 million families of self-rated poor in class E, 5.2 million families in class D and 250,000 families in the A, B, and C classes.

Erap knew this and in fact exploited this. He seized a populist theme – “Erap para sa mahirap” – and bannered pro-poor slogans like “Kontra sa pagtaas ng presyo!” and “Trabaho para sa Pilipino!” He projected himself and created the illusion of himself as pro-poor and approachable, riding on the image of Pinoy jeepney (“Jeep ni Erap”) to create the image of a “Maka-Pinoy,” employing pro-poor and pro-people rhetoric although he did not offer any concrete program for alleviation of poverty or redistribution of wealth and although his records as Mayor of San Juan and Senator and Vice-President of the republic attest that he foisted the worst anti-people and anti-poor policies on the people.

Erap himself is not from the ranks of the poor. His social background shows he belongs to the elite affluent class. He was an Ateneo dropout and was never a part nor acquainted with the ways of the great unwashed or toiling proletariat

And yet Erap created the illusion that he was from the ranks of the poor and is pro-poor, not only because the poor are numerous but also because of the power of bread and circus over a poor man’s brain. If there is anything that Erap has proved, it is the fact that with a little entertainment, plus a little amount, one can easily seduce a poor man’s sanity. You think Erap will try to alleviate the condition of the masses? That’s like putting them out of trance into the world of reality, much like putting Alice out of wonderland. Erap can bless them instead and wish that their tribe increase.

2. From the ranks of the less educated. Secondly, the Erap masa came from those who had less education. In the SWS January 1998 poll, Erap had only 9 percent of followers from among college graduates while he had 37 percent from among those who were at most elementary school graduates.

Erap again knew this and easily identified himself as their hero. Of course he didn’t have to project himself as an intellectual pygmy to be able to identify himself with the less educated. He simply had to be himself and bring this personal ineptitude to his advantage by supporting the publication of “Erap Jokes.”

But how will Erap solve the problem of education – or the lack of it? “Nemo dat quod non habet,” says a Latin dictum. No one can give what he does not have.

3. From those who have reasons to resent. Thirdly, the Erap masa are those who have been waiting too long to have a larger share of the benefits of economic growth since the late 1960’s up until today. They are the people who were bypassed by the different successive administrations for the sake and in the name of the benefits of development enjoyed by the rich and the middle class. They are the people who have been most greatly victimized by the world-record-holder thievery and self-serving cronyism of the Marcos dictatorship, by the greed of Kamag-anak Incorporated and ineptitude of the Aquino administration, the people who were left behind by the growth-accented economic policy of the Ramos administration, the very people who were neglected in their striving to get past their impoverishment.

Erap exploited this strong undercurrent of resentment by the poor to his own advantage. He captured their disgruntlement and portrayed himself as one who echoed the frustrated aspirations of the underclasses who in turn, perhaps because of their utter desperation, responded to the demagogic appeals of a populist politician molded over the years by the silver screen as the champion of the poor and defender of the underdog. Erap tapped these frustrations even though his themes were ambiguous and were not amplified by concrete programs.

It is in this sense, and only in this sense, that one can advance the theory of a “protest vote” during the May 11 elections. The Erap masa were tired of politicians and politicking, they sought for a messiah. For people whose visions have been blurred by hunger and empty promises of food, for people who could no longer see the divide between reel and real life, Erap, portrayed as the defender of the underdog by the silver screen, was the very clear answer – the knight in shining armor, the modern-day Moses, the Christ. Erap was the answer to their protests, ergo, their votes went to Erap.

4. Mesmerized by the silver screen. Fourthly, the Erap masa are people who were easily hypnotized by the silver screen, people who couldn’t see the divide between reel and real life, who see actors’ roles as an extension of what they are in real life, and what they are in real life as an extension of their roles.

Erap again exploited this and rode on the grand illusion mounted by his movies, capitalizing on the seduction exerted by the silver screen. Image, show biz, popularity -- they are the things that count in our “politics of personality,” they are the things that create the illusion of Erap as the Superman of the Philippines.

Our quotation from the Gerasene Demoniac is relevant in an obvious sense: The Erap masa are possessed by a kind of demon – the evil of illusion. The Erap masa voted for a myth, for an illusion, for a make-believe, for a pale shadow of reality. The immediate need and cure is a kind of exorcism.

How then exorcise the Erap masa?

Erap’s popularity has a lot to do with the “masa’s” dissatisfaction with their own economic lot as well as with their affection for entertainers. He is popular because he exploited the “masa’s” disgruntlement through his own form of circus. Not because he stokes the fires of rebellion among the “masa” - far from it - but because he douses them. A lesson is therefore clear: So long as the divide between the rich and poor remained or grew, so long will the Estradas of the world arise. So long as there are bitter resentments from below, so long will populist leaders arise. In the same manner, so long as we vote a person into public office for being a myth, so long will reforms in our country be an empty myth. Indeed, so long as we think of Philippine politics as one great moviehouse, so long will our leaders not do anything although they may act as though they are doing something. Acting, yes, that will be the word that will best describe our government.

The story of the Gerasene Demoniac proceeded with the demons asking Jesus to “send us to the pigs, let us go into them” (Mk. 5:13). Perhaps there is nothing more apt today than to ask our newly elected – and re-elected – officials: You want to exorcise the Erap masa? Then send the poor the pig.

Or perhaps more succinctly, give them your pork!

I Died the Day I was Born

Tomorrow is the birthday of someone I hold very dear. He would have been 94 tomorrow had he not died in 1993 of cancer. The fact though that I still clearly remember his birthday reveals the kind of influence he exerted in my life. He inspired me to enter the seminary in 1982; and he must have turned in his grave when I left in 1995.

I'd like to do him homage though with a reprint of a short story I penned in 1993 for Inter Nos, the official publication of the Theological Society of UST. And may he, wherever he may now be, look down kindly on his former protege.

I DIED THE DAY I WAS BORN

It was June 4, my birthday. It was the day that I was expected to report to the seminary. It was the day that I died.

It was a fine sunny day. The sun, up above a sky that was all blue and tremendous, shone brightly as if determined to shed light on everything under the heavens. The bus, of which I was a passenger, was moving swiftly, gently pushing itself against the road. The throbbing engine machine and its unending roar would only make me conscious of the beatings within my breast which would become faster and louder as I came closer to my destination. The thought of what I left behind and what would probably await me would from time to time shake my armchair complacency.

For a moment, I allowed myself to be occupied by isolated flashes of memories. Fr. Mariano, his words – images of him jostled each other in my brain. Soon, I became acutely sensitive to the thoughts which flowed through me. My family, my ambitions, my life in the seminary, the demands of the vocation – all these my mind never missed; all these became more real to me as though I was shook up like a man startled out of his sleep.

Then, all of a sudden, the thought shook me. It reverberated in my mind, disturbed my soul as would an earthquake disturb the earth, and enveloped my whole being. It was haunting as a shepherd’s flute, alarming as a coming danger, fearful as an impending death. And when my mind could no longer contain the thought’s reverberations, it escaped through my tongue and found echo in my voice. Softly and forcefully, I muttered: “Why should I become a priest?”

Again, I remembered Fr. Mariano and his words came rushing through the tympanum of my ears: “Priesthood is becoming a nobody. It is a negation of both being and becoming. Hence, if you want to become somebody, don’t ever become a priest! A priest goes into the bush, the frontiers. He has to die to himself, to his ambitions, his way of thinking. He experiences deprivation, persecution and loneliness. He empties himself, goes out of himself to reach out to others, creates a void within himself for the purpose of assuming another identity. He leaves aside his identity and the prerogatives that go with it and putting on the clothes of a new identity, he follows the way of denial, humility and suffering. He humbles himself as a servant, as a suffering servant, as a dead servant!”

I’m not too clear about the next thing that transpired although I’ve thought about it often. Perhaps the light-and-hurried breakfast and long drive had finally taken their toll. I felt dizzy and my vision seemed to shift out of focus, as if a silhouette glass had been put before my eyes. Everything seemed diffused. Then, I saw Fr. Mariano’s face before me, as if a spook lined by a wafer-thin shimmer of light. A strange tremor shook my body as I tried to fix the apparition before me.

Soon, I found myself looking up into an amazing face, gaunt, heavily lined, set with large brown eyes. The eyes were slightly filmy, the hair thick, the face mottled and somewhat swollen. Fr. Mariano was about seventy years old and at that age, you could say he had a certain something, that extra something that separates the men from the boys and marked him out like a tossing Arab stallion. The man had suffered a lot, you could see that. You also realized he had wrestled death several times and was still alive. Those eyes of his that would oftentimes roll heavenward were twin wounds that mirrored the sufferings that he injured. But he could take pain, livid and excruciating pain.

I have known him since I was a child. Whenever I would retreat to early youth when the present would disturb or repel me like the ugly tummy of a turtle, I would see myself in the company of Fr. Mariano. We would hike to far-flung barrios with his motorcycle and he would say masses to the people and I would be his altar-server. He was my guide when the man in me started to come out of the boy; he was no privy when little hairs began to emerge above my upper lip, the desire for the opposite sex became keener, when muscles began to harden and bulge. He was a father to me, this Fr. Mariano.

Now, as I looked at him, it seemed I was looking directly at the face of death, that I was playing primary witness to a process of existential decomposition. He was sick and was literally glued to his bed. It seemed that the sorrowing earth pulled at his body, at his shoulders that once bore the weights of the world’s affliction. Immediately, I felt my heart ached for him, this poor old man.

“Fr. Mariano,” I called out, my voice sounded strange and muffled in the deadening silence. He looked at me and the deep furrows around his eyes and mouth arched into a warmest and most gentle smile.

“Anak,” he said as he usually addressed me and all those persons close to him. His response, in his usual deep-throated voice seemed to reverberate off the surrounding walls. “Come and sit beside me,” he summoned, glancing at the old wooden chair beside his bed. I followed, wondering why to me his voice sounded like Gabriel’s horn, much like the peeling of the bell.

“How are you doing Father?” I asked.

“Well, as you can see, I’m bedridden, just preparing for my last battle. I guess God has deemed it best for me to hold my last breath on bed.”

I was taken aback. His answer came as a juggernaut that made me feel the nakedness and stupidity of my question. That was not what I meant, I wanted to tell him. Perhaps I asked the wrong and silliest question, perhaps my question was irresponsible but I knew it wasn’t just a question. I knew I only wanted him to feel that I cared for him, for whatever he felt. I wanted to explain myself to him. But his voice had already made me feel like a timid choir boy. I neither had the strength nor the desire to dispute his words.

“I’ve learned that you’re coming back to the seminary,” he finally said after a brief but deafening silence.

“Yes, I am,” I answered, quite relieved of the sick feeling that my question and his response had caused.

“And are you ready to die to yourself, to your dreams and ambitions? Are you ready to die a thousand deaths?”

I knew Fr. Mariano was always unpredictable and would always ask the most unexpected question. But still, his question again caught me off-guard. “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Anak, he spoke haltingly, then begged off for a while to relieve his throat. Then he went on: “Priesthood is a lonely life. To be a priest is to suffer and die several times. It is to be poor, deprived, needy, impoverished and bedraggled. It is to live on alms, on the love, affection and generosity of the people, to take the ultimate sacrifice – serve God’s people.”

I wanted to react. I wanted to tell him that he’s wrong. The priest after all lives the most comfortable life there is in this world. He does not bear the usual problems of the world. He commands respect from the community. Oftentimes, his word is even considered as the law. I wanted to tell him that priestly life is an easy life. But then it seemed that some undesirable stuffs have been clogged in my throat. I found myself unable to express my thoughts.

“Let me tell you who the priest is,” he continued, his face appearing like a musical instrument, the notes ringing our loud and clear. “The priest is someone who spends so much time, effort and money to be ordained to serve God by serving the people, crystallizing this unconditional commitment through vows of poverty, chastity and obedience to his superiors. But to support his physical needs, to be able to eat at least three times a day, he tries to beg for money and what-have-yous from the people he promised to serve who in turn accuse and label him as money-faced, a gold-digger, an opportunist, a person who is identified only with Sunday collections, contributions, stipends – yes, with money.”

I was somewhat shattered. The man was throwing thunderbolt instead of his usual piddling pebble from a slingshot. The measured voice came out as if it were of a politician making a point, a lawyer deftly nailing a quodlibet and a spider spinning an intricate web. His face, it seemed Fr. Mariano’s face in that seemingly split-visage scene remains one of the most eloquent spectacles of the human drama ever captured by my eyes.

Then he went on: “The priest lives alone in a place where he finds himself needy – both materially and emotionally – impecunious, impoverished, bedraggled and living on alms. Sooner or later, he finds himself stricken with loneliness, deprivation and even persecution. He asks himself: “What’s the use of doing this or that when the people don’t really care about what I do or feel? They expect me to produce and deliver, but do they really value the thousand and one things that I have already accomplished? He feels so alone in his anguish. He feels pressured, manipulated, misunderstood and bypassed. But he has to live with all that for he promised to be dead to himself.”

“Uhurm,” I wanted to interrupt. But as in the past, I found myself unable to speak, as if I have been hypnotized to play the role of his captive audience.

“In his moments of loneliness and solitary struggle,” he continued, “he cannot but sometimes wonder what it is like to have a lifetime partner who will share with his emotional, aye, physical needs. He cannot but sometimes wonder what it feels to physically express a particular love and concern to a particular lady, to share his bed with a love one at night. And oftentimes, too, he cannot but wonder what it feels to father a child. Needless to say, the effect of this to his psychological disposition is tremendous. Without the right and proper direction, it can be very harmful and dangerous, both emotionally and psychologically. It can become an unbearable burden, sometimes a psychological torture even. And as you know, many priests have failed or are failing in this.

“And so, as he becomes older, he also sometimes becomes insecure. He sometimes becomes unpredictable and conscious of his security. Sometimes, too, he becomes desirous for some material possessions. But gaining more years and weakened now by years of service to the people, he finds himself being advised to retire. He is then thrown into a home for the aged where he finds himself completely helpless and useless. He settles for a self-service lifestyle until his death. He has to fend for himself and take care of himself even until the time when he could no longer lift a finger.

“Finally, he dies and is buried in a place where his memory is lost and forgotten forever, and where his tomb is not even cleaned or decorated during the All Souls’ Day observance.

“This, Anak, if I may end is the priest.”

And Fr. Mariano spoke no further while I, convinced of the veracity of his words and piqued at having shown some emotion, also lapsed into silence.

The sky was dark, threatening with a heavy downpour when I reached the seminary. I saw the porter busily ushering in the arriving seminarians, completely unmindful of the coming weather disturbance. A large ‘welcome’ sign was posted at the huge and heavy door that led to the inside of the ‘hallowed’ walls of the seminary. I approached the porter, exchanged a few topics, asked for my room key and proceeded inside. And as I closed the heavy door, I also closed my eyes and prayed: “Pater, in manus tuas commendo spiritum meum.” Then, I recalled a passage in the novel “The Thorn Birds” by Colleen McCullough and softly and slowly recited it to myself:

“…singing among the savage branches, (the thorn bird) impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price… For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.”

The Parable of the Prodigal Son: A Reflection on Luke 15

My Bible reading for today dwelt on Luke 15, specifically referred to as The Parable of the Prodigal Son. I am currently in the mood to share with you, dear friends, my reflections on said passage.

So to all the men out there, let me sound this stern warning: this will be a man-to-man talk. In Filipino, usapang lalaki. To all the women out there, let me offer this equally admonishing note: it will rest upon you to let this transcend the level of girl’s talk. This is because this piece will talk about men. And a lot about women, too. To the women out there, this will speak about the characteristics that make up your ideal man. To all the men out there, the kind of man you simply wanted to be. To all of us, this will deal with the kind of person we simply wanted to become.

Luke 15, also known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, has already become a very popular biblical story. In fact, we have now also grown so familiar with its message, that is, the forgiving love of the God. But please note that there are only a few characters in the story: the father, the prodigal son, the elder brother, the father’s servants, and the man who hired the prodigal son in his farm. I’d like to focus on these characters, try to examine each one of them and choose from them our own ideal man, our ideal person. In Filipino, ang tipo nating lalaki.

Let’s start with the prodigal son. To say the least, we can say that he is selfish. His selfishness leads him to demand his inheritance in advance of his elder brother in violation of prevailing custom. At the lowest point of his life, still guided by self-interest, he decides to return home.

What about his brother? We can say that the elder brother’s failure to appreciate the return of his prodigal brother is understandable from a certain point of view. His own obedience and loyalty, commendable in itself and never equally applauded, have dulled his appreciation of what family ties mean. Just like the Pharisees, he views the whole situation from the perspective of duties and obligations. He puts emphasis on law and conformity. And because of his exactitude and sense of justice, he also becomes self-righteous. He becomes no different from a rooster who believes his crows effect the rising of the sun, that he is the straw that stirs the drink.

Notice that oftentimes, we act like the elder brother. Perhaps because of our relatively exalted place in society, or perhaps because of false pride and hubris, or perhaps because we always like to think we know better than others, we already oftentimes think righteous enough like the elder brother. But it is precisely our exactitude and sense of justice that would oftentimes hurt our relationship with others. And to the ecclesiastics out there (this is the advantage of owning a blog Reverend Fathers: you’ll have no choice but to allow me to give the sermon), is it not regrettable that for so many people their first impression of the Church is of an organized, exacting and even harsh institution? Too much emphasis on law and conformity has often hurt the Church. Its better side, its Christ side, with real concern for people, does not leave the dominant impression.

What about the father’s servants? The father’s servants constitute the crowd, people who assume anonymous identities. They are passive, noncommittal and merely wait for and follow other people’s orders or examples. Soren Kierkegaard, the father of Existentialism, would call them the “herd.” They are people who could never be like the kites. Kites sail against, not with the winds. These kind of people sail with, not against the winds. Unfortunately, these people also constitute the majority. And who knows, by reflection, we may even find ourselves among their kind. Their role after all is the easiest one. They merely follow and obey and let other people direct their lives.

What about the man who hired the prodigal son in his farm? We can say that he took advantage of and abused the prodigal son, masquerading the situation in terms of a servant-employer relationship. He applies a lower form of quid-pro-quo standard of relationship, manipulates and abuses others. And again, his equivalent for today abounds in our present society. There are the profiteers, people who rejoice and make gains over the mistake and misfortune of others.

What about the father? What can we get from him? Well, let us try to consider this:

Have you ever experienced losing someone? Or at least, being separated from a loved one? It is painful, is it not? Separation is a kind of death. It is the death of the bond that ties the heart to its other half.

Have you ever experienced being betrayed or abandoned by a loved one? It is painful, is it not? Indeed, pain is most intense when caused by someone you love most.

But have you ever experienced forgiving and accepting back someone who has betrayed or abandoned you? How does it feel? Sadly, I believe that because we very seldom do it, we are not even very familiar with the way it feels. Forgiveness, because it opposed to pride, is not something we easily give away. Forgive, and you lose not only your face but also your wings which fly your ego to exalted heights.

The father in the parable, however, has undergone all these. He lost someone, was abandoned by a loved one, and was betrayed by his own son. But the pain of loss and betrayal notwithstanding, he still unconditionally forgave and accepted back his sinful son. This is the reason why the parable should instead be called the Parable of the Prodigal Father. For to refer it to the sinful son only fails to highlight the father as the central figure of the narrative. While the son was prodigal with material things, the father was prodigal with loftier things, with the things that really matter. The son was prodigal with money and material riches; the father was prodigal with his forgiving heart, with his love. The mean-spiritedness and selfishness of the prodigal son is the shadowy background for the bright hues of the father’s love. On the other hand, the exactitude and sense of justice of the older son only serves to accent the absence of parameters in the unquestioning embrace of the father. The prodigal son spent his riches and became poor; the prodigal father spent his own riches, the true riches, and gained more.

There is one person who best exemplifies the kind of love that the father showed in the parable. He died on the cross for his friends. He died for us, for you and for me. “Greater love than this no man has than one who lays down his life for his friends.”

Friends, I have thus tried to show you a number of role models as provided to us by the Parable of the Prodigal Father. Who is our ideal person here? In Filipino, sino ang tipo nating lalaki dito? As an old teevee commercial - yes, I am old enough to remember an old teevee commercial - relevantly asked, Sino and bestfriend natin doon? The prodigal father, the prodigal son, the elder brother, the father’s servants, or the man who hired the prodigal son in his farm?

The choice is yours.


P.S.: By the way, there is still one character in the parable. Which means we have yet another choice of role model in case we cannot decide on the role models we first mentioned, or just in case we find them simply not suited to our taste. And for sure, if we aren’t going to choose the prodigal father as our role model, we will soon find ourselves no different from them.

Friends, they are the PIGS.

Mysterious Shared-Oneness

MYSTERIOUS SHARED-ONENESS


The beginning and the end of emotions strikes
effecting a movement of an appetite toward
a desired sensible good; from mind to heart
and heart to soul, the beat that sounds
infinitessimaly exceeds the binds of space
and time. Profound and transcending,
the nature and composition of an unfathomable
reality surpass the limits of an
integral substance.

The gravity of the unhampered uniting force
pulls the wandering mind and sleeping heart
of a bewildered creature - awed in
enchantment! Zealot and unexhausted, the
Mystery of Twoness-in-Oneness presents an
inviting abode to the object desired - an
accommodating mysterious space, a conceptual
boundlessness of a rationalizing species.

Then, the creature is moved from a static
departure and is transported to the
height of rapture, placing himself outside
or beside himself - a level beyond
sense perception and volitional control,
a monotonous activity of an omniscient
immensity ... far beyond the grasp of
pure intelligibility.

Co-existent with the essence of the
Necessary Being, the cause of all contingent
beings compells the squalid mundacity
to deviate from a vacuous poise, and
satiates the insufficience of a
perfunctory world.

Existing in the Mystery of Mysteries,
an act bending back on itself
indivisible and eternal
limitless in comprehension and extension
-- come, experience and be a part of the

Mystery of Shared-Oneness...

June 1988

A Sexual Symbol at Edsa Shrine?

Was at the shrine of Our Lady of Peace, also known as Edsa Shrine, this morning to visit a friend and former classmate at UST Central Seminary. Fr. Nilo Mangussad, Director of Liturgical Music of the Archdiocese of Manila since 1995, is also current Rector of the shrine. He assumed the title formerly held by Fr. Soc Villegas, now bishop of Bataan, some two years ago.

I consider Edsa Shrine very close to my heart not only because of the role it played in the history of our nation (the song “Bayan ko” never fails to bring tears to my eyes) but also because of the role it played in my vita amoris, aptly described by a word popularized mainly by show business -- lovelife kuno. You see, Edsa Shrine also reminds me of my first love. The sacred place had always been my meeting place with her whenever we would go out for a date. (Our relationship did not succeed, however, the religious dimension we tried to commit unto it notwithstanding. Sigh.) But that is of course a different story.

The Shrine itself has numerous features that interest me: its electronic bells, its controversial murals, its wonderful pipe organ, the almost-subwoofer-provided acoustics, and one of its architectural wonders – its intriguing baptismal font.

Some two years ago, Gabby Lagamayo, a former classmate from Our Lady of Penafrancia Minor Seminary, had his child baptized in said Shrine. Several classmates, I included, stood as godfathers. During the rites, however, the ninongs kept themselves busy with whispered hahaha and hikhikhik which easily filled the place and obviously irritated the minister.

Lemme share with you the reason for such hikhikhik and hahaha.

About two weeks after the baptism, Junie Taclan, a friend, now kumpadre and former classmate both in High School at Our Lady of Penafrancia Minor Seminary and in AB-Classical, Bachelorship in Philosophy, and Licentiate in Philosophy at Central Seminary, UST, posted this photo below at the blog of Batch 86 (Find the blog here).

Junie said: Why would this religious structure evoke in one of the ninongs (Jet Hermida, that is) the image of the female anatomy? Is it true that years after leaving the seminary, we never really lost the "seminarian" in us? Or, do we owe it to our priest-formators? Ha ha ha ha ha.

Jet Hermida, likewise a former classmate, followed suit. He posted this close-up photo of the same font below.

Jetski said: Hehehe, more pix of that interesting baptismal font (?) in EDSA Shrine. So whaddya think?

I am posting herewith the reactions, with a few minor modifications, the photos generated among our classmates (the reactions as they appear in the Batch ’86 blog here)

Anonymous said.: bagan puyit! heheheh (Trans.: It looks like a vagina! Hehehe.)

Kit said: i do not know who designed the baptismal font in edsa shrine but he/she must be aware of the symbology of the blade (ancient symbol for masculinity) and the chalice (ancient symbol for femininity). the blade is represented by the triangle and the chalice is represented by the inverted triangle. together, they actually form a hexagram which we now identify as the star of david. incidentally, the blade also represents the male organ and the chalice represents its female equivalent. quite incidentally also, this is mentioned in dan brown's "the da vinci hoax”, er, “code.”

in this case, i do not know why the baptismal font's architect placed the symbol of the chalice on top of the symbol of the blade. was he perhaps thinking of the wheelbarrow position? the woman on top? or, hmmm... well, fill in the blanks. the flowing waters in the font, the font itself looking more like a jacuzzi - they only serve to conjure more images of, well, ano pa nga ba?

i am sure one of the ninongs immediately "smelled" the "heavenly experience" which the hexagram in the baptismal font symbolized. and i venture that he must have had this old filipino adage at the back of his mind: "ang hindi lumingon sa pinanggalingan ay hindi makararating sa paroroonan."

doon po tayo lahat nanggaling. ahh... sana mamayang gabi, or mas okay kung asap, doon tayo lahat paroroon.

goodluck buddies!

Jetski said: hehehe nice kit! nice :-)

Gojie said: hahahaha. duon po ako patungo mamayang gabi pareng kit. chalice on top of the blade.

Gabby said: you people amaze me.

Anonymous said: mas masiram an paroo't parito, lalo na kun minamadali. Masiram man an blade lalo na kun insasaksak. Duwang klase baga an saksak : 1. Saksak na nakamatay 2. Saksak na nakabuhay. Saraksakan na lang kita! Jack the Rapist (Trans.: 'Here and there' tastes better, especially when rushed. The blade tastes good, too, especially when thrusted unto something/someone. There are two kinds of thrusts: 1. deadly 2. life-giving. Let's thrust the thing unto each other! Jack the Rapist)

Junie said: jet, now i know the reason for the name creativejet.

Gojie said: chapel na chapel inmalisyahan pa niyo. manggirabo man kamo!!!! mangisog c lord! hehehe. (Trans.: That’s a chapel so don’t put malice on it!!! The Lord will get mad! Hehehe.)

Gojie said: but hey, it rili reminds me of last night. hahahahaha.

Kit said: gojie: history will show us that the profane has always been present in the sacred. it is also true that the sacred has always been present in the profane. and this is especially true in the church. basilicas and cathedrals especially in europe are full of "artistic manifestations" and symbolisms that make direct references especially to the female genitalia and to the sexual act. the symbol of the chalice is a good starting point. even theology speaks of the church as the bride of christ who is the groom. now, marriage is supposed to be consummated by the sexual act. know that canon law considers non-consummation as a primary ground for nullity and voidance of marriage ab initio. and where is their bedroom where they "consummate" their love? well, it is in the eucharist. the altar therefore is the bed where the chalice (remember that it is the symbol of the female genitalia) is laid (remember the expression "get laid?"). and the chalice of course is the receptacle wherein the blood of christ the groom is eventually poured into.

relative to the symbolism of the chalice, do you know that an egyptologist has surmised that the pyramids are actually symbols of the male genitalia and that they were built to announce to the aliens out there that "hey, may mga boto tabi didi!!" (Trans.: hey, there are penises here!!)

the next time you go to church, try looking for symbols. you'll have fun i'm sure, as creativejet has had real fun in edsa shrine. hehehe.

Junie said: kit, i am beside myself reading your comment. Nabubuang na kuno ako sabi san mga kaurupod ko sa balay. (Trans.: I have gone mad according to members of my household.)

I think you should really write a book. It would be a great disservice to mankind if you don't share these highly amusing, deeply irreverent "theological treatises."

Thanks, Kit. You made my day!

Jetski said: kit, bilibonon ako san paliwanag mo. hehehe. (Trans.: i am awed by your explanation. hehehe.)

Otats said: kit, i really agree with you "that the profane has always been present in the sacred. it is also true that the sacred has always been present in the profane. and this is especially true in the church"...well, and also very much true with some PRIESTS..hehehehe!

Gabby said: jet, you're really creative. you saw something that i didn't. kit, take heed of junie's suggestion.

Kit said: junie: i am sorry for being “irreverent.” i didn’t mean to sound like i despise the church. believe me, i love the church very much and i must say i learned to love her more (notice that because i consider myself man enough, i address the church as “her”) because of these facts.

the church uses a lot of signs and symbols. our faith is explained through them and theology thrives because of them. sacrament for instance is theologically defined as an outward sign. the problem only starts when we begin to understand and trace the history of these signs and symbols.

take for instance another interesting case which is the case of the rite of renewal of water and light during easter. would you believe that this rite is originally a symbol of the sexual act itself? the water symbolizes life or more particularly, the giver of life. the giver of life of course directly alludes to the female genitalia. the candle on the other hand, symbolizes the male organ. notice that during the rite, the candle is dipped into the water. and it is during this rite when new life is born in the church as symbolized by christ’s resurrection. indeed, it is a fact that the church’s teachings on life and new life almost always use the symbolism of the male and female genitalia and the sexual act. very interesting, is it not?

would love to take your challenge, junie. join me in writing a collaborative work. i am sure we can get a lot of fertile ideas from jet. hehehe.

Anonymous said: mhaleeboogeen kau lahhaten batch eighty - SEX ! you better read my theories first. mga manyakeen, when i was born, i brought sexual symbolisms into this world. Heende kau ang original koondee akoo. Hail Hitler ! SIGMUND FREUD

Junie said: kit, I’ll be the last person to believe that you despise the church.

By irreverent, I didn’t mean, of course, that you despise the church. Just the same, I’m sorry for the unintended connotation.

Allow me to give a little explain, though. Beneath the irreverence, I’m sure, lies a deep respect, love even [as you openly declared], for the church. Irreverence and respect for the same object—the church—would seem to defy logic. But a closer examination would show that these traits can reside in one person without necessarily excluding each other, in much the same way that we can marry the idea of the sacred and that of the profane in religious symbols.

Irreverence aside, I truly get a lot of kick from your theological explanations. And I think I’ll take you up on your offer to do a collaboration if, and only if, we include Dante for the illustrations. Our book-in-the-making will surely need a lot of cave illustrations, given its sacred-profane content. And Dante’s the only one qualified for the job, being the most experienced spelunker in our batch. The only problem is he’s very busy right now, exploring three caves (Is it four, Henri? Or, have we lost count already?) in Albay and Sorsogon.

Kit said: thanks a lot, junie. you just put into words what many of us could only observe and awfully declare as “nasa durho na san dila ko yan!” (Trans.: that's already at the tip of my tongue!) sige po, i hope we can start writing soon. dante, i am sure, will provide the best illustrations to those things that have been keeping our “heads” high (shall I say erect?). with his very rich experience in cave explorations, his fresh-from-the-oven fingers will definitely provide masterful strokes in the terrain and every corner of our hitherto unexplored … hmm … subject.

speaking of caves, i must beg to disagree with mr. sigmund freud’s claim that he pioneered sexual projection of phenomena through symbols and/or the sexual interpretation of symbols. the fact is, sexual symbolism has been with us since the beginning of man’s history. remember that the caveman drew symbols in caves. were the symbols he drew never sexual in any way? then why did he draw raging bulls inside the caves? hehe, i am sure dante knows the reason by heart and, well, by his dick (dear dante: my apologies po). the most that mr. freud has introduced therefore is the “freudian approach” in the understanding of our sexuality.

i must agree, however, with tato’s observation about the symbiotic relation between the sacred and the profane as observed among the members of our clergy. not all priests are completely aware of the symbolisms of the rites they perform or they may not always be conscious of the significance of these symbolisms. but imagine a priest who is really aware of the sexual undertones in the rites. hehe, the people would perhaps start to wonder why their minister would seem to be singing handel’s helleluiah seven octaves higher.

Comments and discussions went on beyond the blog. In one of our mini reunions, we talked and gave out more hikhikhik and hahaha and drank and toasted till dawn to our book-in-the-making. Beyond munching on the special sisig and chicharong bulaklak as pulutan, we feasted on the different concepts relative to the theology of sex as well as more sexual symbolisms in different churches.

And it all started with the baptismal font at Edsa Shrine.

The face of Corruption at the Bureau of Customs

I was driving along Edsa last night and was catching GMA 7’s six o’clock news on the teevee monitor installed in my car. I wouldn’t normally watch teevee or video in the car, especially since driving and watching teevee or video aren’t actually like watching teevee and running on a treadmill. Driving in Manila makes it even worse. But it does sometimes provide a balming effect especially when you’re caught in monstrous Manila traffic.

Mike Enriquez was reporting on the new Marina chief. “What else is new?” I thought, giving way to a red Toyota car who I suppose was suddenly forced to cut through my lane because a blue motorcycle with no side mirrors suddenly sped through his car. Then, a reporter announced:

“Pinuslit na petrolyo na nagkakahalaga ng 150 million ay nasagap ng nagsanib na pwersa ng NBI at Bureau of Customs. Narito ang ating panayam kay _____, ang hepe ng _______ opisina ng Bureau of Customs.”

That caught my attention. “Lemme watch this,” I told myself.

A familiar face appeared at the monitor. “Ito po ay isa na namang katuparan ng ating kampanya laban sa smuggling!” he declared.

That shook me, my right foot at an instant flooring the accelerator and my left foot immediately catching the breaks. I almost hit the rear of the red Toyota car up front.

“The gall of that s___ of a ___!” I muttered at the monitor.

I knew the man. As an importer, I’ve been his victim on countless occasions. He’s the chief of an important department at the Bureau of Customs and he uses his position not only to illegally enrich himself but also to harass importers and Customs brokers. He’s not anti-smuggling, he’s in fact in cahoots with the smugglers. He lives in a mansion, owns at least six luxury cars and travels with his mistresses in a private jet. He’s diabetic, I know of that, and his subordinates have always been puzzled on how he handles orgies with the different professional whores hiding behind the titles “actresses” and "starlets" which he has the habit of demanding as gifts from importers and brokers.

He’s one of the most calloused at the BOC in demanding grease money – or oil money if you prefer, or in this case, petroleum money. People at the BOC call it tara. And if he’s not satisfied with the amount given him, he seizes the cargo, declares it smuggled, poses before the camera, bribes the reporters, deodorizes his name through the media, and demands more money from the owner of the cargo for settlement.

Did the reporter say 150 million? Well, since the cargo has already been seized, the owner of the cargo will have no choice but to settle with Chief and his minions. Consider at least 15% of that amount going to their pockets.

If you want to know what corruption is, this Chief is the man, corruption personified himself.

Still wondering why our country is in the pits?

Republic of Bicol

In light of the controversial MILF MOA-AD and the subsequent demand of the Lumad people for another "autonomization," I am posting herewith an outline of a book I never got to finish writing. It was first posted in my first homepage in December 2001 (Find it here).

Towards an Autonomous and Independent Republic of Bicol

This treatise treats the prospect of an autonomous and independent republic of Bicol. Employing the successful establishment of the Republic Act 8438 or the Organic Act of Cordillera Autonomy and the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao as backdrops, it tackles the process and tasks as well as the possible problems in “autonomization.” The treatise is in toto based on the fact that Bicol region is self-sufficient in terms of resources, both natural and human. It has two gold mines – Paracale and Masbate, two geothermal plants – Tiwi and Bacman, with a possibility of a third – Irosin, which could easily generate dollars in terms of revenues. It has several tourist spots that can be readily developed, industries for export, etc.

And now may I add, we have the MILF MOA-AD and lessons from its historical development as very good models!