Dedma: Isang Patalastas

I was thinking of posting another story but changed my mind when I received a message from Joe Torres, my editor at abs-cbnNEWS.com, in reaction to God 101:

Joy,

most people are poor not because they are lazy, not because they did not go to school, not because they don't want to.

It's so unfair to the thousands of Filipinos who are in the provinces, who are forgotten by our government, who are not given to go to school, to have work, who migrated to the cities thinking that they can find jobs here, who ended as prostitutes (masnakakapagod na trabaho ang mag-pokpok).

Joy, so many people are poor because some people take advantage of others. People are poor because many of us refuse to fight the injustice around us.

Many of the poor are dead because many of us na "ok lang" choose to keep our silence and let the poor be poor because anyway God loves them.

I'm sorry Joy, people are poor not because they choose to be poor but because they are victims of an unjust society, by indifferent people like us.

Joe

Erin and another poet echoed Joe's criticism to this same piece. The other poet, whose name I am withholding because I didn't get permission, told me:

I was very disappointed in this:

"I don’t anymore remember how long it took me to respond to Morning’s last question, but I vividly recall how I stammered on my answer. I remember I told him that God, of course, loves all of us equally but people are poorer than the others because of their own doing and undoing. That they don’t strive, they were lazy in school, which is why they don’t get a job when they are old. (My friends told me that it was a good answer, that is, of course, minus the bumbling.)"

Many people are poor because of disasters in their lives (like the victims of the last disaster in Myanmar), and it happens through no fault of their own. Also, life is not fair. The vast majority of humanity lives on a knife edge and it only takes one slip to throw them over.

I thought then I had to explain myself :) I'm posting here a part of my speech este email to the poet:

Maybe my thinking then was that I was talking to a kid, and I had to talk in his language and my perceived limits of his understanding. Lousy thinking, poor estimation, and downright unfair. I was really sorry that that time I tried to make my point to Morning at the expense of other people. There is no excuse for that.

But you know, maybe talking that way to Morning was also part of my instinct to avoid blaming others for the things that happen to me. It's a part of self-cultivation somehow so that I won't find myself blaming God later, which I saw so many people have found so much comfort doing. And it's a very sensitive and difficult subject that I'm afraid to tackle to Morning. That is why I always find myself stressing first the value of responsibility for oneself and his future. Rather than instilling in their minds that life is unfair, that the world is harsh, that the government is inutile, I'd rather just be a part of preparing them for life's surprises and mysteries.

I am a firm believer that it's our values that will make us ready for the world, and my hope is for Morning to face it not with pessimism and cynicism but with a trusting heart and using their gifts to make it better. (Pessimism and cynicism of course are often deeply rooted and have their own good impacts, but my experience taught me that they can be counterproductive and very depressive.)

Afterall, for children like them (and people like us) who are not only exposed but live where poverty, calamities and abuses are a part of daily life, there is little need to stress the imbalance. We are part of what you referred "vast majority of humanity (that) lives on a knife edge and it only takes one slip to throw them over." I would say that we were born with an "excuse" for our plight, but to live by such excuse is another thing.

It is not likely that a Catholic country like us would blame God for our condition, but I grew up in a generation of cynicals bred by a culture of blaming others especially the government. As a youth I found myself on the streets marching, cursing the powers that be for the social injustices. In desperation, I found myself trying out in politics hoping to make a dent. I made it but my causes did not but unlike my other friends I did not lose hope. Now, I am working for nine years in the national government and in my own little way, in my small corner, I am happy to contribute somehow in making poverty and hopelessness a thing of the past for some of the poorest Filipinos.

Somehow, this is what I want to impart to Morning and the kids around me. There are realities in life that we cannot do anything about, but we can always change our attitude toward them, then our world would still be bright even if it looks dark from the outside.

"That's all. Thank you, judges." *bow*

God 101: When kids teach

I was praying before our little altar at home when my 6-year-old nephew, Marc Ivan Cabrera, entered.

He quietly approached me then asked: "Nagdarasal ka, Ninang Joy." (Are you praying?)

I gave him a smile, held him, and told him: "Halika, ipagdarasal kita." (C'mon, I will pray for you.)

He grinned at me, with those charming eyes radiating joy as if I offered him "Judge," his favorite chewing gum.

When kids are around, I have been used to using my prayer time as a bonding session with them. I would grab the time to teach (at times even preach) them about being good and so on, thinking that they would keep my words in mind more seriously because we prayed for it.

That time, for Ivan, I was planning to tackle on his being a kuya (older brother) to Ingrid and his responsibilities as a sacristan (altar boy).

With my hands on his shoulders, I started praying aloud: "Jesus ito po si Ivan." (Jesus, this is Ivan.)

Before I could continue, he managed to quickly interrupt me and said: "Uy, kilala na Niya ‘ko!" (Hey, He knows me already.)

I went on to pray but was wearing a big smile the whole time.

Why not? Someone just reminded me that God knows everyone—including me. And it was a child.

Sometime last April, I had asked Morning to accompany me to an NBI kiosk in Megamall to have my clearance renewed. It was a double-purpose lakad because I could have my business matter accomplished, and at the same time fulfill my long overdue promise to have a stroll with my nephew in the biggest mall in town.

I had all expected it to be an easy, light day but the NBI thing ruined it. I was told that something was wrong with my record so I had to go to the Bureau’s office in Carriedo, Manila.

I was really upset but had to pretend that I was A-OK for Morning. We went strolling, watched the ice-skating kids, and had his favorite doughnuts. I laughed and played with him, but the NBI thing never escaped my thoughts the whole time. "Why, what was wrong with my records? Don't tell me I have a namesake."

Around 4:00 p.m., we proceeded to my brother’s workstation in one of the stalls at MRT Shaw Boulevard Station, some hundreds of meters away from Megamall. I had to leave Morning there because I have work at ABS-CBN at 5 p.m.

The stall was located at the southern side of the station so we would have to pass through the narrow bridge located at the side of the tall structure. It was an open bridge and was placed at the second level of the station.

For someone who’s afraid of heights, it was too high for me. Seeing the fast-moving cars downstairs made me tremble. And with Morning around I had second thoughts of passing that bridge. Thinking of my limited time to make it to my 5 p.m. duty, I was forced to brave it nonetheless.

Again, the most I could do was to feign that I was all right. I took a deep breath, positioned myself on the danger side, held Morning’s arms tightly, then headed toward the bridge.

As we took the stair adjoining the bridge, I told Morning, who I thought was walking carelessly: "Anak, dahan-dahan lang, hindi ka ba natatakot." (Child, take it slowly, aren't you afraid?)

What he told next completely erased my fears: "Bakit ako matatakot e nandiyan naman ang Diyos? Magtiwala ka lang hindi ka niya pababayaan." (Why should I be afraid when God is there? Just trust him and he will not forsake you.)

I recall telling him those exact words before. That time, it was him reminding me as if he knew I badly needed it. I really did.

I kept those words in mind until the day I had my NBI clearance renewal completed. It was clean. Nothing was wrong with my records, I’m just not sure with NBI’s system. :)

***

"He knows about everyone, everywhere. Everything about us is bare and wide open to the all-seeing eyes of our living God; nothing can be hidden from him to whom we must explain all that we have done." --

Hebrews 4:13

God 101

Do you really think that you completely know God? Wait then till you hear it from a child.

When Morning was about 4 or 5 years old, he would always join my Tatay in fetching me from my office at the Mines and Geosciences Bureau in Quezon City. One late night on our way home, we were traversing North Avenue when he saw some people including children sleeping under the waiting shed in front of the SRA Building, just a block away from my office. Our Q&A session began:

“Bakit sila natutulog sa daan?” he asked. (Why are they sleeping on the street?)

“Kasi wala silang bahay,” I quickly replied. (Because they have no home.)

“Bakit wala silang bahay?” was his followup question. (Why don't they have a home?)

“Kasi mahirap lang sila,” I answered. (Because they are poor.)

He quickly returned with the question: “Tayo ba mayaman?” (Are we rich?)

At this point, I was still not aware that he was already analyzing my answers, so I lazily replied: “Hindi. OK lang.” (No, we're just OK.)

“E bakit tayo may bahay?” he followed up. (But, why do we have a house?)

“Kasi mahal tayo ni God,” was my proud response, thinking that it would end our Q&A session. (Because God loves us.)

I was dead wrong.

Without batting an eyelash he quipped: “Bakit sila, hindi ba sila mahal ni God?” (Why, doesn't God love them?)

If only I could, I would have melted right there and then. Yes, in shame. I saw Tatay half-smiling but I know I made him upset that night for my not handling it well with Morning. And I know I disappointed God for somehow disorienting an innocent child’s belief in His fairness and equal love for all of us.

I don’t anymore remember how long it took me to respond to Morning’s last question, but I vividly recall how I stammered on my answer. I remember I told him that God, of course, loves all of us equally but people are poorer than the others because of their own doing and undoing. That they don’t strive, they were lazy in school, which is why they don’t get a job when they are old. (My friends told me that it was a good answer, that is, of course, minus the bumbling.)

But recovering from that boo-boo, I guess, would take my whole lifetime. To this day, I have to be very careful with how I use “God” in my lectures about life to Morning and the kids around me.

And boy was it a humbling experience esp. for a Church person like me, who all these years has been portraying to be someone who completely knows Him.

That night, a child reminded me, I don’t.

***

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.”-- Ecclesiastes Chapter 3:11

On TV Part 2: Si Baste

I came home one evening and caught my nephew, Morning, watching “I love New York." I honestly don’t like that telenovela, because Jennilyn Mercado’s over-acting and pitchy voice really irk me. But with wholesome Jolina Magdangal around, I found it all right and safe for Morning so I opted not to get in the way.

Instead, I thought of testing him if he really understood what he’s watching.

So, I asked the kid: “Sino ba 'yan?” (Who is he?)

“Si Baste ‘yan,” he replied referring to the character played by Mark Herras. (That's Baste.)

“Nasaan na siya? Pa’no siya napunta riyan?” I asked, as the TV screen shows Mark wandering the streets of New York. (Where is he? How did he get there?)

Morning readily replied: “Nasa Amerika na siya. Nanalo siya sa ‘Laban o Bawi’ kaya siya nakapuntang ibang bansa.” (He is in America. He won in a contest that's why he got to go there.)

“Bakit ba siya pumunta riyan.?” I followed up. (Why did he have to go there?)

“Hinahanap niya kasi nanay niya,” he said. (He's looking for his mother.)

Then came the scene where Baste was phoning somebody and suddenly turned gloomy.

I asked again: “Sinong tinawagan niya? Bakit nalungkot siya?” (Who is he calling? Why is he sad?)

“Hinahanap niya nga nanay niya. Kaso meron nang ibang pamilya nanay niya.” (He is looking for his mother. But his mother already has a different family.)

I was not sure if Morning, whose Papa is in Canada and whom he hasn’t seen for years, could relate to the story. Underestimating his sensitivity, I pushed to probe if he’s ever affected by Baste’s plight.

I asked him: “Bakit kung may pamilya ‘yung nanay niya, malungkot ba ‘yun?” (Why, if his mother has a new family, is that something to be sad about?)

He did not reply immediately.

But before I could conclude that he did not understand my question, he told me as his eyes gazed into nothingness: “Sana wala pang ibang pamilya si Papa.” (I hope Papa doesn't have a new family yet.)

For the nth time I was caught unprepared. I wanted to assure him that that wouldn’t happen, but I couldn’t. Because I also don’t know. I don’t even know where his father is.

That instance almost made me decide not to let him watch that telenovela or any show of that plot anymore, if only to shield him from any doubt, that in one way or another would cause him pain.

But I realized that I cannot do that forever. Instead, I thought, he needs to be exposed with the reality of life. That it is not perfect. That some of our hopes fail.

And yes, if it is any consolation, that in case the home he draws in his imagination just remains a drawing, he could somehow find comfort in the fact that he is not alone.

I’ve been trying to prepare myself for the day when Morning would not simply ask but demand an answer to never-ending questions about his father. I hope by then I would have the answer.

Better yet, God willing, that that time won't have to come because his father would already be around to tell him his story and his sorry with a vow to fulfill Morning's utmost hopes for a happy home.

In the meantime, my family will continue to fill the gap for Morning. We will not waver, we won’t get tired.

We may not be able to give him the quality of life that children in Canada enjoy, but Morning will grow up not a bit lacking in love.

That, I promise. And I hope everyone around him will all help us fulfill that promise.

***

DISCLAIMER: As a former member of abs-cbnnews.com, I am a proud and loyal Kapamilya. I would say, however, that I am the only Kapamilya at home, but only because our 20-year old TV doesn’t have a good feed of Channel 2. Ergo, our household is all glued to the Kapuso Channel—esp. when I am not around. So why the disclaimer? Well, just thought that I might get the ire of my friends along Eugenio Lopez Drive if I won't do so. Especially that guy on 14th floor, er, Gabby.