Learning from John Paul II

The first thing that struck me, when I read the English text of Pope Benedict XVI’s “Declaratio” on the Vatican Radio website, was this passage:

I am well aware that this ministry, due to its essential spiritual nature, must be carried out not only with words and deeds, but no less with prayer and suffering. However, in today’s world, subject to so many rapid changes and shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of faith, in order to govern the barque of Saint Peter and proclaim the Gospel, both strength of mind and body are necessary, strength which in the last few months, has deteriorated in me to the extent that I have had to recognize my incapacity to adequately fulfill the ministry entrusted to me.

I thought the Pope was referencing his predecessor’s last years in office, when Pope John Paul II’s Petrine ministry was precisely service “with prayer and suffering.” Referencing, and then finally rejecting, that sainted example, because of the present-day conditions in which the Roman Catholic Church found itself: “so many rapid changes,” “shaken by questions of deep relevance for the life of faith.”

I understood these phrases to mean a recognition of the stasis that had characterized Vatican decision-making in the first years of the 21st century, when Pope John Paul II’s ministry of suffering had offered believers everywhere a source of inspiration, but also a cautionary tale of governance.

PS. Amy Davidson of The New Yorker was thinking along the same lines.

“A decision of great importance to the life of the Church”

Still stunned, some six hours after I first saw the news flash on TV. Pope Benedict XVI’s decision to resign by the end of the month is unprecedented in the modern age; the last time a pope resigned, Christopher Columbus had not even been born yet. That is to say, when Gregory XII resigned in 1415, to settle the so-called Western Schism, the “New World” wasn’t even a concept. Pope Benedict’s bold, striking decision brings us—suddenly, dizzyingly—to uncharted waters.

Column: What if the Church is in error?

One thing I love: Whenever I write on religious or theological matters, I almost always receive lengthy, well-considered responses written in a spirit of fraternal correction. Most of them arrive by email, although several come through the door marked “comment thread.” This column, which prompted several such responses, was published on September 18, 2012.

After 45 De La Salle University professors issued a statement in support of the Reproductive Health bill early this month, a distinguished alumnus of La Salle (and Harvard) wrote a powerful rejoinder. I cannot agree with all the points raised by Bernardo M. Villegas (or BMV, as we all referred to him at the Center for Research and Communication where I worked two decades ago), but I thought his response was both muscular and gracious, emphatic and respectful, at the same time.

Column: Supporting the Ateneo professors

Published on August 28, 2012.

The misreading of the memo that Ateneo de Manila University president Fr. Jett Villarin wrote to his university community on the vexing issue of the Reproductive Health bill was both unfortunate and immediate. The original story that appeared in the Inquirer completely misunderstood the import of the memo, or the effect it had on the professors who wrote an impassioned, rigorously argued statement in support of the bill; as a result, a good number of readers thought that the Jesuits had thrown the professors to the dogs.

David’s The Holy Family

Hands down, the most affecting portrait of the Holy Family I’ve ever seen. “The Holy Family,” by the Netherlandish master Gerard David, hangs in Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts — or at least it was there the last time I visited, and when I took this close-up. I was drawn first by the color and the small scale of the work; according to the museum’s notes, it was first used for private prayers, some 500 years ago. And then the mood of the painting struck me: It is a portrait of anxiety, of a recognizably ordinary family consumed by worry or rumors of an incomprehensible fate; poor Joseph did not even have time or chance to clean his fingernails.

“Only love defeats exhaustion”

The late Carlo Maria Cardinal Martini’s “spiritual testament”–an interview he gave three weeks before his death on August 31, 2012–is much more nuanced than early news stories reported it, but also much more hard-hitting. The indispensable John Allen offers NCR’s translation.

I have also included a PDF file here on Newsstand, because the interview is something I think I will be referring to over and over again; it is a keeper. NCR Martini

Partial truths about the Philippine Revolution

The epilogue of John Schumacher SJ’s Revolutionary Clergy begins with a summary of four “certain stereotypes”, or partial views, or (if understood ideologically) outright myths of the Revolution that in my view is a marvel of lucidity and precision. Immediately after the summing-up, he hastens to clarify that “all of them contain some greater or lesser portions of the whole picture of the Revolution” (and all ignore, to a greater or lesser extent, the role of the Filipino clergy as “an essential element” of that same  Revolution).

I thought it might be worth our while to run those four paragraphs (from Schumacher 1981: 267-268) here, as a reminder, in Schumacher’s words, of “the one Revolution and the many revolutions.”

“But my cause is good and that is enough for me”

When Pablo Pastells SJ chided Rizal, then in exile in Dapitan, for not dedicating himself to worthier causes, Rizal replied with an eloquent defense, and a ringing affirmation of the least or even the lost cause. I think of his answer as his fanfare for the common man, but on closer reading it reveals itself to be a reply that is, at one and the same time, earnest and ironic. (I do not know if Pastells, at one time Rizal’s spiritual director, sensed the irony of it all.)

What follows is a series of three translations; the first is Raul Bonoan SJ’s, from his definitive Rizal-Pastells Correspondence; the second is Encarnacion Alzona’s, from Miscellaneous Correspondence of Dr. Jose Rizal, one of the many volumes prepared, somewhat hastily, for the Rizal centennial in 1961; and the third is Roman Ozaeta’s, from his translation of Rafael Palma’s biography of Rizal (the title by which we know it now, The Pride of the Malay Race, is Ozaeta’s own; Palma’s award-winning work, somewhat unimaginatively, was called “Biography of Rizal”).

The Spanish original, as reconstructed by Father Bonoan (but without the Spanish orthographical marks, due to my ignorance), follows after.

This particular passage, incidentally, figured in the Indonesian appropriation of Rizal. A high-profile feature article on Rizal in the December 30, 1944 issue of Asia Raya ran the passage (in Indonesian), and two years later a short-lived political magazine published in East Java ran it again. I suspect the young Indonesian journalists at that time of great upheaval heard the fanfare, and took arms.

Column: Ambassador Pacman’s boxing diplomacy

Published on June 8, 2010. I forgot to include in my short list in the first paragraph one unexpected encounter with a Pacquiao fan: In Hong Kong, a Sri Lankan war reporter asked me: So, do you know Manny Pacquiao? When I told him that as a matter of fact I had covered a training camp of his in Los Angeles, his eyes lit up, and he started talking, in fascinating detail, of Pacman’s most recent fights.

On business trips in recent weeks, I got a first-hand look at the worldwide fame of Manny Pacquiao. Whether it is a banker in Hong Kong or an airline employee in Jakarta or a taxi driver in Singapore, Pacman is now “top of mind,” when talk comes round to the Philippines.

It was in the last encounter, with a pleasantly loquacious cab driver on the (relatively) long drive to Nanyang Technological University [in Singapore] last Friday, that I began to see a pattern—and an idea began to seize me.

Cory’s coming-out speech (at Ninoy’s funeral)

Copied from “Human Society No. 21,” published by the La Ignaciana Apostolic Center on September 1, 1983. The day before, Ninoy Aquino’s funeral had drawn millions of people into the streets. Titled (perhaps by the issue editor?) “New Turn of Events,” this was Cory Aquino’s response to Jaime Cardinal Sin’s homily at the funeral Mass in Sto. Domingo Church, in Quezon City. We did not know it yet, but it marked her assumption of opposition leadership. (In copying the remarks, I retained the misspellings and floating commas.)

I talked to Ninoy for the last time on August 20, 7 p.m., Boston time, which was August 21, 7 a.m., Taipeh time. He told me that he would soon be leaving for the airport. I told him I was informed that Gen. Ver had warned any airline bringing Ninoy in that Ninoy would not be allowed to disembark, and that the airline would be asked to fly Ninoy back to his original port of embarcation.

Ninoy said that they could not do that to him because he is, was, and always will be a Filipino. And he told me that most likely he would be rearrested and brought back to Fort Bonifacio. In that case, he said he would ask Gen. Josephus Ramas to allow him to call me up. If, on the other hand, he would be placed under house arrest, he would call me up as soon as he arrived at our home in Quezon City. Then he told me that if we were brought back to Fort Bonifacio, there would be no need for me to hurry home. Instead, he said I should take my time finishing my packing. And in the event that our children and I would be issued passports, he said that I should take our three older daughters on a side trip to Europe.

Our only son Noynoy and our youngest daughter Kris were scheduled to leave for Manila a week after Ninoy arrived.

At 2:30 a.m., Sunday, August 21, Boston time, the phone rang and my oldest daughter Ballsy who answered it, was shocked when Kyodo agency in New York, asked her if it were true that her father had been killed in the Manila International Airport. They were asking for her confirmation. UPI and AP also called asking for verification; but it wasn’t until Congressman Shintaro Ishihara of Japan called me from Tokyo and verified the shooting report, that my family had to accept the cruel fact that Ninoy had been shot dead.

The children and I cried when I told them of the bad news. After a few minutes, we all knelt down to pray the rosary and ask the Blessed Mother for help.

We arrived in Manila on Wednesday, August 24. I could not believe my eyes when I saw a huge crowd at our home in Times St. waiting patiently in line to view Ninoy’s body. I was overwhelmed by this extraordinary display of love and devotion.

I had asked that my children and I be given a few minutes to be alone with our beloved Ninoy. We wanted to have him to ourselves for a few private, and cherished moments. From that first night of our return to Manila, my children and I continue to witness an even greater display of love, respect and admiration for Ninoy.

Our friends have been very kind and generous to us; but even more comforting is the sight and presence of countless men and women who did not even know Ninoy but are now helping to make our lives a little less difficult by demonstrating to us that we are not alone.

The huge throng that met us the other day when we journeyed from Tarlac to Manila must have numbered in the millions. They had waited for hours and hours under the hot sun and no doubt had gone hungry and thirsty but had patiently waited if only to catch a glimpse of my husband’s hearse.

If my children and I appear to be brave during this, the most difficult period yet of our lives, it is because we know that this is what Ninoy would have expected of us. It is also because of our faith in God, and the belief that he is now helping us in this, our greatest need.

And so today, I wish to thank all the Filipino men and women, young and old, who have demonstrated to me, to my children, to Ninoy’s mother and to his family, that Ninoy did not die in vain.

Ninoy, who loved you, the Filipino people, is now loved in turn.

Column: Pontius Pilate as editor

Published on June 16 23, 2009. The occasion was also a book launch, but since I had not yet read the book (the groundbreaking Blind Spot: When Journalists Don’t Get Religion), I thought I’d defer comment.

Question: Are (most) Muslims in the Philippines Shia or Sunni? I do not recall this distinction ever being used or considered necessary in any news report about Muslims in the Philippines, before September 11 or even after it. Question: Is “Among Ed” Panlilio, governor of Pampanga, a priest-on-leave? The term—a label created by journalism’s driving rage for simplification—creates the perception that he is temporarily suspended from the Catholic priesthood. Question: Is Brother Mike Velarde’s massive El Shaddai Movement a Catholic or a charismatic renewal group?

These and similar questions would be second nature to a wonderful website I’ve been reading the last several years, if it ever got around to pounding what it calls the GodBeat in the Philippines. GetReligion (at, naturally enough, getreligion.org) is a website dedicated to tracking the “ghosts” of religion in news stories. Often this means taking news organizations to task for misunderstanding stories about religion; many times this means pushing for greater coverage of the way religion shapes the news.

The site gets its name from something CNN political analyst Bill Schneider once said: “The press … just doesn’t get religion.” But I would think the phrase finds additional resonance in the older formulation of “finding” or “discovering” religion. GetReligion is a group blog, and what a group it is. But one blogger stands out: Terry Mattingly, or tmatt as he is more popularly known, is GetReligion’s daily avenging angel. (He may be familiar to some of us as the writer behind the widely syndicated “On Religion” column of the Scripps Howard News Service.)

Column: Moral vs moral

Published on April 21, 2009

Why waste time in a political column discussing morality, when politics is the art, not of the ideal, but of the possible? This kind of feedback tells me I must have failed to carry my point across, in last week’s “Big Talk” about morality.

Democratic citizenship is a decidedly moral undertaking; that is to say, republics are founded on the possibility of public virtue. It is essential, however, to distinguish public virtue from private.

Emilio Jacinto’s “Kartilya,” the founding document of the Katipunan, does not explicitly make that distinction, but is surely based on it. “The life which is not spent for a great and sacred cause is like a tree without shade, if not a poisonous weed.” By great and sacred cause, Jacinto could not have meant one’s personal integrity or even the well-being of one’s beloved family (for many Filipinos, the unfortunate true limit of our generosity). He could only have meant the needs of the emerging nation. To place the nation’s welfare ahead of one’s own—that is the citizen’s ideal life, and is the finest example, the pattern-setting template, of public virtue.

The implication is hard to escape, and even harder to accept: In politics, personal virtue is not necessary.

Neither critic nor opportunist

Notes toward a political theology; from Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison

“We must be determined not to be outraged critics or mere opportunists. We must take  our full share of responsibility for the moulding of history, whether it be as victors or vanquished. It is only by refusing to allow any event to deprive us of our responsibility for history, because we know that is a responsibility laid upon us by God, that we shall achieve a relation to the events of history far more fruitful than criticism or opportunism. To talk about going down fighting like heroes in face of certain defeat is not really heroic at all, but a failure to face up to the future. The ultimate question the man of responsibility asks is not, How can I extricate myself heroically from the affair? but, How is the coming generation to live? It is only in this way that fruitful solutions can arise, even if for the time being they are humiliating. In short, it is easier by far to act on abstract principle than from concrete responsibility. The rising generation will always instinctively discern which of the two we are acting upon. For it is their future which is at stake.”

Column: Pope Benedict regrets

Published on March 17, 2009

Last January, the Vatican’s Congregation for Bishops remitted (that is to say, lifted) the excommunication placed two decades ago on four bishops of the Lefebvrite Society of St. Pius X. The official decree expressed an ardent hope. “This gift of peace, coming at the end of the Christmas celebrations, is also meant to be a sign which promotes the Universal Church’s unity in charity, and removes the scandal of division.”

Instead, it turned into a greater scandal, when word spread that one of the bishops, Richard Williamson, was an active denier of the Holocaust. In an incendiary interview on Swedish television, mere days before the decree was published, Williamson claimed Nazi gas chambers did not exist and that perhaps only 300,000 Jews (instead of the accepted estimate of six million) were killed by Hitler’s regime.

Immediately, Pope Benedict XVI’s decision to repair relations with the ultraconservative Society (which considers the Second Vatican Council heretical) became the long-anticipated signal that the Pope, once feared as the Panzer cardinal, was astride his tank and finally making a hard turn to the right. His decision was attacked, not least by his fellow German, Chancellor Angela Merkel, for diminishing the horror of the Holocaust, and by many others, Jews as well as Catholics, for encouraging illiberalism and intolerance. (I, too, was one of many dismayed by the Pope’s action.)

“With a nagging tinge of irony”

One response to the column on "The Christian in politics" came by way of the Inquirer.net feedback loop, and offered a summary view of my writing on religious issues:

I read with much interest and with a nagging tinge of irony
John Nery's article "The Christian in politics", which appeared in his
December 16, 2008, column. Nery is correct when he points out that,
far from disavowing politics, a Christian can — and at times should
– engage in politics as it is the means to help create a better
society. To do so in a Christian manner, however, one must at least
know one's faith. And so I find it curious that this is the same John
Nery who erroneously claimed that artificial contraception is an issue
on which a Catholic can disagree with the Church in good faith. He
uses this falsehood to defend the 14 Ateneo professors who have
betrayed their and educational institution — despite the documented
fact that the Church has always been against artificial contraception
as far back as Church teaching has been recorded. The early Church
Fathers condemned it; the encyclical Casti Connubii (1930) did the
same, as did Humanae Vitae (1968). The issue is NOT an undecided one
in which a Catholic can faithfully take either side. To pretend that
it is such is ignorant at best, and irresponsible at worst! Nery is
correct when he writes: "A fuller reckoning of Manglapus' faith-driven
politics awaits a grateful nation." One wishes then that Nery's
"politics" were as at least properly-informed.

Emmanuel Amador
Ateneo de Manila AB Communications Arts AB Philosophy (1985)
Cebu City

Not a red Haring

Quite a number of readers have raised the question: Who is this “great theologian Bernard Haring” you mentioned in passing in last Tuesday’s column? One answer is in this tribute written by another theologian who got in trouble with the Vatican, Charles Curran. His remarks first came out in the National Catholic Reporter. Excerpts:

Haring’s moral theology was based on the covenant — the good news
of God’s loving gift for us and our grateful response. Christians are
called to growth and continual conversion in their moral life and in
their multiple relationships with God, neighbor, world and self. He
staunchly opposed any legalism that made God into a controller rather
than a gracious savior.

Two significant developments occurred in his moral theology. The
earlier Haring, as indicated by the title of The Law of Christ, still
saw law as the primary model of the Christian life. But in 1978 his new
three-volume moral theology, written this time in English, was titled
Free and Faithful in Christ, which indicates the move to a more
relational model for the moral life and the rejection of a legal model.

I think our understanding of sin today—-often summed up in the principle that one ought to be hard on the sin but compassionate on the sinner—-owes a lot to Haring’s work.

More popular than Jesus?

He was, he said, misunderstood. A 39-year-old interview with John Lennon, broadcast for the first time ever only this weekend, on BBC Radio, tries to contextualize his infamous quip that the Beatles had become “more popular than Jesus.”

“It’s just an expression meaning the Beatles seem to me to have more
influence over youth than Christ,” he says. “Now I wasn’t saying
that was a good idea, ‘cos I’m one of Christ’s biggest fans. And if I can
turn the focus on the Beatles on to Christ’s message, then that’s what we’re
here to do.”

The story in the Telegraph sums up the issue by declaring, in both the headline and the photo caption, that the Beatles “were a Christian band.” Well, define Christian. I can’t quite wrap my head around the notion that my favorite band was actually a proto-U2 (coincidentally, my second favorite band). I haven’t heard the interview yet, but I get the sense that John was only in damage-control mode.

De Quiros-ed

Before I lose the links altogether: Conrad de Quiros gamely took up the challenge and responded to my criticism last week of his recent column on the Couples for Christ crisis with a characteristic reply —- that is, a witty rejoinder, not conceding an inch and indeed digging in (to hopelessly mix metaphors) for the proverbial mile. Since I was editing the opinion pages that day, I saw his column beforehand. It had a charming postscript addressed directly to me. I texted him and asked: The postscript is meant to be printed, right? He said yes. Read his column (his response is in the second half) here.

Israel at 60

The “Israel problem” remains vexing, especially in relation to the suffering of the parallel nation of Palestine, but those who believe in liberty and order may want to raise a glass in honor of Israel’s thriving democracy, now entering its seventh decade. BBC is marking the 60th anniversary of Israel’s independence with a wonderful 30-minute documentary about life in Jaffa, a port city where Arabs and Jews live in peaceful coexistence.

After the short-lived Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 2006, someone who visited Beirut as part of an international monitoring team wrote a front-page commentary in the Inquirer — I forget who, but I’m sure with a little research in the office I can find the actual page. I remember being dismayed at the casual contrast the writer made between the inevitable tumult that lay in wait for Ehud Olmert’s inept administration and the outpouring of adoration already falling on Hezbollah’s collective head. The writer seemed to have discounted the main reason for the turbulence in Tel Aviv: that it was the noise of an open and democratic society, loudly calling its leaders to account. Of which other country can that be said in the Middle East?

A Haaretz columnist interviewed on BBC, for a spot news report earlier today, described his country’s central narrative as one of “tragic success.” I think he got it exactly right — but the obvious must be belabored too. That Israel is a genuine democracy also means that Israelis can — and do — judge themselves by democracy’s own exacting standards.

“Jaffa Stories” airs again at 11:30 pm tomorrow (Friday) night, and at 5:10 pm on Saturday (Manila time). The BBC website is a bit of a mess, so here are two links to essentially the same thing, but you get video (the outtakes from the documentary) only in the second link. Must be a British thing.

Just when I memorized all the answers …

they changed all the questions.

That old poster tagline came to mind, when I stumbled on this news story: Vatican names “new sins.”

Lozada’s credibility: The (Jesuit) homily at the (Christian Brothers) Mass

I was not able to attend today’s "Mass for Jun Lozada and family," at La Salle Greenhills; I was back at work, after almost a week in sick bay. But I did get a (corrected) copy of the "clear and effective" homily (Torn & Frayed’s first-to-market review, at least among the 70 blogs whose feeds I subscribe to). The homilist, by the way, was Manoling Francisco, SJ (the musical genius who wrote "Hindi Kita Malilimutan" when he was 13 and in first year high).

I tweaked this post’s title a bit.

RECLAIMING OUR HUMANITY

On this Second Sunday of Lent, during which we are asked to reflect on the
Transfiguration of Jesus Christ, I wish to touch on three themes that have
to do with our moral transformation as a people:  first, Ascertaining
Credibility; second, Rediscovering our Humanity; and third, Witnessing to
the Truth.  In so doing, I hope to invite all of you to reflect more deeply
on how we, as a nation, might respond to the present political crisis in
which our identity and ethos, our convictions and integrity, in fact, who we
are as a people, are at stake.

I.  ASCERTAINING CREDIBILITY

Jun, as Sen. Miriam Santiago has grilled you to ascertain your credibility
(or was it to undermine your credibility?), allow me to raise some important
questions to consider in the very process of discerning your credibility.
Allow me to do so by drawing on my own counseling experience.

Very often, a young rape victim initially suppresses his or her awful and
painful story, indeed wills to forget it, in the hope that by forgetting, he
or she can pretend it never happened.   But very often, too, there comes a
point when concealing the truth becomes unbearable, and the desperate
attempts to supposedly preserve life and sanity become increasingly
untenable.

At this point the victim of abuse decides to seek help.  But even after
having taken this step, the victim, devastated and confused, will tell his
or her story with much hesitation and trepidation.  It should be easy to
imagine why. In telling the truth, one risks casting shame on himself or
herself, subjecting oneself to intense scrutiny and skepticism, and
jeopardizing one’s safety and those of his or her loved ones, especially
when one dares to go up against an older or more powerful person.

Similarly, it is easy to imagine why Jun would initially refuse to challenge
the might of Malacanang.   Who in his or her right mind would accuse
Malacanang of crimes against our people and implicate the First Family in a
sordid tale of greed and corruption, knowing that by doing so, one endangers
one’s life and the lives of his or her loved ones? We are, after all, living
in dangerous times, where the government has not hesitated to use everything
in its power to keep itself in power, where it has yet to explain and solve
the numerous cases of extra-judicial killings.

But Jun is in his right mind.  His story rings true especially in the face
of the perils that he has had to face.  And by his courage, Jun has also
shown that it is not only that he is in his right mind; his heart is also in
the right place.

Hence, my personal verdict: Jun, I believe that you are a credible witness.
And if hundreds have gathered here this morning, it is probably because they
also believe in you.  Mga kapatid, naniniwala ba kayo kay Jun Lozada?
Naniniwala ba kayo sa kanyang testimonya?  Kung gayon, palakpakan po natin
ang Probinsyanong Intsik, si Mr. Jun Lozada.

Jun, we hope that by our presence here, you may find some consolation.  Pope
Benedict XVI writes that "con-solatio" or consolation means "being with the
other in his or her solitude, so that it ceases to be solitude."  Jun, be
assured that your solitude is no longer isolation as we profess our
solidarity with you.  Hindi ka nag-iisa.  We are committed to stay the
course and to do our best to protect you and your family and the truth you
have proclaimed.

II.   REDISCOVERING OUR HUMANITY

What makes Jun a credible witness to us?

I think Jun is credible not simply by virtue of his being an eyewitness to
the unmitigated greed of some of our public officials. Perhaps more
importantly, Jun is credible because he has witnessed to us what it means to
be truly human.

Which leads me to my second theme:  What does it mean to be human?  How
might we rediscover our humanity?

Allow me to quote Pope Benedict XVI, who in his latest encyclical, Spe
Salvi, has written:   "the capacity to accept suffering for the sake of
goodness, truth and justice is an essential criterion of humanity, because
if my own well-being and safety are ultimately more important than truth and
justice, then the power of the stronger prevails, then violence and untruth
reign supreme.  Truth and justice must stand above my comfort and physical
well-being, or else my life becomes a lie. . . For this . we need
witnesses-martyrs ..  We need them if we are to prefer goodness to comfort,
even in the little choices we face each day."

Our Holy Father concludes, "the capacity to suffer for the sake of the truth
is the measure of humanity."

Isn’t this the reason we emulate our martyrs: Jose Rizal, Gomburza, Evelio
Javier, Macli-ing Dulag, Cesar Climaco and Ninoy Aquino?  They have borne
witness for us what it means to be truly human-to be able to suffer for the
sake of others and for the sake of the truth.

I remember Tita Cory recalling a conversation she had with Tito Ninoy while
they were in exile in Boston.  Cory asked Ninoy what he thought might happen
to him once he set foot in Manila.  Ninoy said there were three
possibilities: one, that he would be rearrested and detained once more in
Fort Bonifacio; two, that he would be held under house arrest; and three,
that he would be assassinated.

      "Then why go home?" Cory asked.

      To which Ninoy answered:  "Because I cannot allow myself to die a
senseless death, such as being run over by a taxi cab in New York.  I have
to go home and convince Ferdinand Marcos to set our people free."

Witnessing to one’s deepest convictions, notwithstanding the consequences,
is the measure of our humanity.  Proclaiming the truth to others, whatever
the cost, is the mark of authentic humanity.

Jun, we know you have feared for your life and continue to do so.  But in
transcending your fears for yourself and your family, you have reclaimed
your humanity.  And your courage and humility, despite harassment and
calumniation by government forces, embolden us to retrieve and reclaim our
humanity tarnished by our cowardice and complicity with sin in the world.
You have inspired us to be true to ourselves and to submit to and serve the
truth that transcends all of us.

III.  WITNESSING TO THE TRUTH

This leads us to our third and last theme: witnessing to the truth.  In his
encyclical,  Pacem in Terris, Pope John XXIII exhorts that it is the
fundamental duty of the government to uphold the truth: "A political society
is to be considered well-ordered, beneficial and in keeping with human
dignity if it grounded on truth."   Moreover, the encyclical explains that
unless a society is anchored on the truth, there can be no authentic
justice, charity and freedom.

Every government is therefore obliged to serve the truth if it is to truly
serve the people.  Its moral credibility and authority over a people is
based on the extent of its defense of and submission to the truth.  Insofar
as a government is remiss in upholding the truth, insofar as a government
actively suppresses the truth, it loses its authority vested upon it by the
people.

At this juncture, allow me to raise a delicate question: At what point does
an administration lose its moral authority over its constituents?

First, a clear tipping point is the surfacing of hard evidence signifying
undeniable complicity of certain government officials in corruption and
injustice, evidence that can be substantiated in court.

Hence, during the Marcos Regime, the manipulation of Snap Election results
as attested to by the tabulators who walked out of the PICC was clear
evidence of the administration’s disregard for and manipulation of the
collective will of the people in order to remain in power..

During the Erap Administration, the testimony of Clarissa Ocampo, claiming
that Pres. Erap had falsified Equitable Bank documents by signing as Jose
Velarde, was the smoking gun that triggered the rage of our people.

Allow me to respond to the same question by pursue an alternative track of
argument: an administration loses it moral authority over its people when it
fails in its fundamental duty to uphold the truth, when it is constituted by
an ethos of falsehood.  When a pattern of negligence in investigating the
truth, suppressing the truth and harassing those who proclaim the truth is
reasonably established, then a government, in principle, loses its right to
rule over and represent the people.

Regarding negligence: Do the unresolved cases, such as the failed automation
of the national elections, the fertilizer scam, the extra-judicial killings,
and the "Hello, Garci" scandal, constitute negligence on the part of the GMA
Administration to probe and ferret out the truth?

Regarding covering-up the truth:  Does the abduction of Jun Lozada and the
twisting and manipulation of his narrative by Malacanang’s minions
constitute concealment of the truth?  Was the padlocking of the office of
Asst. Gov’t Counsel Gonzales who testified before the Senate regarding the
North Rail project anomaly an instance of covering-up the truth?

Regarding the suppression of the truth: Does the issuance and implementation
of E.O. 464, which prevents government officials from testifying in Senate
hearings without Malacanang’s permission, constitute suppression of the
truth?  Was the prevention of AFP Chief of Staff Gen. Senga and six other
officers from testifying before the Senate with regard the "Hello, Garci"
scandal tantamount to a suppression of the truth?  Was disallowing Brig.
Gen. Quevedo, Lt. Col Capuyan and Lt. Col. Sumayo from appearing before the
Lower House an instance of hindering the truth from surfacing?

And regarding harassment of those who proclaim the truth: Are the abduction
of Jun Lozada and the decision to court-marshal Gen. Gudani and Col. Balutan
for disregarding Malacanang’s order not to testify before the Senate
examples of punishing those who come forth to tell the truth?

            By conflating one’s responses to all these questions does one
arrive not at hard evidence showing culpability on the part of some
government officials, but a gestalt, an image which nonetheless demands our
assessment and judgment.  I invite all of you then to consider these two
methods of evaluating and judging the moral credibility of any government,
the moral credibility of our present government.

            Allow me to end with a few words about an Ignatian virtue,
familiaritas cum Deo. To become familiar with God involves the illumination
of the intellect, coming to know who God is and what God wills. But it also
involves the conversion of the affect, the reconfiguration of the heart.
Becoming familiar with God entails transforming and conforming my thinking,
my feeling and my doing in accordance to the Lord’s, which can only be the
work of grace.

            Familiarity with God thus entails rejoicing in what God
delights-the truth; abhorring what God detests-falsehood; being pained by
what breaks the heart of God-the persecution of truth-seekers.  Familiarity
with God means sharing the passion of God for the truth and the pathos of
God whenever the truth and the bearers of truth are overcome by the forces
of the lie.

            On this Second Sunday of Lent, as we contemplate the
transfiguration of Jesus Christ on Mount Horeb, we pray that our hearts and
minds be so transfigured and so conformed to the mind, heart and will of the
Jesus, our way, our life, and our truth.

            May the Lord bless and protect you, Jun, and your family.  May
the Lord bless and guide us all into the way of truth.  Amen.

The new Black Pope

Through the Jesuit web portal, I was able to follow the election of the new Father General of the Jesuit order, Fr. Adolfo Nicolas. In the first few days, the content of this particular sub-site on the 35th General Congregation was all about the election; I learned, for example, that Fr. Ben Nebres, president of the Ateneo de Manila University, was among those selected to draft a report on the state of the Society (as Jesuits who speak in English call their religious congregation).

Father Bernas, the constitutionalist who now writes for the Inquirer every Monday, devoted his column this week to Father Nico (as the new Father General used to be called, especially by Jesuits in the Loyola Heights campus, where he spent, what was it, a total of nine years). He quotes at length from a profile of Father Nico written by Father Danny Huang, the Philippine provincial superior.

I got a copy of that moving portrait too. Here it is:

OUR NEW GENERAL: Adolfo Nicolas, S.J.

The day after the election of Fr. Adolfo Nicolas as Superior General of the Society of Jesus, many of us here in Rome find ourselves deeply grateful for the guidance of the Spirit. We believe in faith that it was the Spirit who led us to choose Fr. Nico–as we fondly call him in our part of the world–as the 29th successor to St. Ignatius. This past week, the newspapers in Italy had come out with lists of possible generabili. It is surely significant that Fr. Nicolas was never mentioned!

A Man of God

Fr. Nico embodies for many of us the primary quality St. Ignatius stipulates as desirable in the man who is to become General: that he be a man “closely united with God our Lord.” “Tell me,” an elector from Europe asked me soon after Nico’s election, “have we elected a saint?” Whatever the answer to that question, many have noticed and wondered at the serenity and joy that Nico radiates. There is a wholeness, a centeredness, a freedom about him that point to spiritual depth.

Yesterday, we walked up the stairs of the Curia to the Aula where Nico would later be elected General. He asked me if I had slept well; I answered that I had, more or less. I asked him, in turn, if he had slept well, both of us knowing, as had become clear on the last day of murmurationes, that he was a strong possibility among the electors. He simply smiled his Nico smile, and said, “Yes. I slept very well. There is always hope.” The genuine peacefulness with which he communicated this, in the face of such daunting possibilities, moved me deeply.

Yesterday afternoon, after the election, I visited him in his new quarters, the famous rooms of the General in the Curia. He said that, at lunch, he had asked Fr. Kolvenbach when this—that is, the reality of becoming General– would hit him. Fr. Kolvenbach had answered: “Tonight.” This morning, I was surprised to find Nico (that is, Fr. General) knocking on my door, to give me the gift of the chain he had used to hang his GC 35 ID on, since he no longer needed it. I inquired about how he slept last night. He answered with his familiar smile: “Very peacefully.”

A Friend in the Lord

“A joyous man, warm, energetic, and with whom one feels so close!” These words of Fr. Louis Gendron, the Provincial of China, summarize well a second gift Fr. Nico brings to his new office. Fr. Ben Nebres, President of the Ateneo de Manila University and elector for the Philippine Province, speaks in the same vein: “When I think of him, the feelings that come are of affection and friendship. Fr. Nico is many things, but he is above all a companion and a friend. He brings the gift of friendship and encouragement of Blessed Peter Faber. He is a leader who will walk with us and who will invite us to find together, in conversation and prayer, the way that the Lord wants us to follow in our time.”

Nor is this sentiment limited to Jesuits. In his letter of congratulations to Fr. Nicolas, Fr. Gabriel Je, the Delegate of the Korean Provincial in Cambodia, describes the delighted response of a lay missionary from Hongkong working with the Jesuits in Phnom Penh. She had met and been favorably impressed by Fr. Nico when he had visited Cambodia last year. On hearing of his election as General, she spontaneously exclaimed: “There is hope for the Jesuits!”

This warm, welcoming humanity of our new Fr. General—“I feel refreshed after talking with him,” one elector from India told me—is a quality that eminently fulfills the second qualification St. Ignatius mentions in his description of the ideal General: “Charity . . . should particularly shine forth from him, and in a special way toward the members of the Society; likewise a genuine humility which will make him highly beloved . . .”

Numerous gifts of person and experience

To lead the Society as General clearly requires many other gifts. “He ought to be endowed with great intelligence and judgment,” Ignatius writes. “Learning,” “prudence,” “experience,” are among the necessary qualifications for governance that St. Ignatius adds to his list.

Fr. Nico, the “wise man from the East,” as some are already calling him, is richly blessed with such gifts that are both personal and the fruit of his broad experience of many cultures and governance on many levels. “Nowhere was it written that we wanted someone from the Orient,” Fr. Gendron observes. “But for the third time in a row, the Society has elected a missionary, like Fr. Kolvenbach and Fr. Arrupe, a Westerner who has spent most of his Jesuit life in the Orient.” There is something providential, surely, in this pattern.

Fr. Nico, European in origin and training, yet with such breathtakingly broad cultural exposure, and indeed exercising leadership for over forty years in various parts of Asia, brings with him crucial perspectives and sensibilities at a time when the Society of Jesus finds itself in major demographic transitions.
As a professional theologian of depth and creativity, he is also well equipped to help articulate for the Society faithful yet fresh and inspiring visions of our mission and religious life today. His years as Director (and at present, Chair) of the East Asian Pastoral Institute in Manila involve a rich experience of respectful and fruitful cooperation with the hierarchies and local Church leaders of many continents. Moreover, because he worked for several years in the pastoral care of vulnerable Filipino and Asian migrant workers in Tokyo, he brings to his office a special care for the poor, whom the Church and the Society of Jesus call Jesuits to have a preferential love for. At the same time, because he has labored for many decades in the increasingly secular milieu of Japan, he also has a profound sensitivity to the challenges of unbelief and religious indifference that are the context and challenge of many parts of the developed world. Finally, as one who has been Provincial of Japan and President of the Conference of Provincials of East Asia and Oceania, as well as former Major Superior of our Jesuit missions in Cambodia, East Timor and Myanmar, Nico is no stranger to the requirements of governance and administration, and brings this rich administrative and leadership experience with him into his new office.

Young at 71

Yesterday, with a glint of mischievous humor in his eyes, Fr. Nico told me that he had never experienced so many Jesuits asking him with such concern about his health. This is, of course, entirely natural. Ignatius realistically lists sufficient “physical strength demanded by his charge,” as the final qualification of the General. And Nico is 71—72 by April.

His age was, frankly, a concern. But interestingly, it became clear to many of us that chronological years were not the most reliable measure of age where Nico was concerned. Paradoxically, one of the oldest among us was also one of the most youthful in energy and spirit. “He has the mind of a young man,” someone told me in admiration. “I have never walked with anyone who walked so fast. I have to tell him to slow down when I walk with him,” a Latin American Jesuit told me.

But perhaps it is best to let the young speak. Since the announcement of his election, the seventy or so scholastics in the Arrupe International Residence in Manila have been excitedly gathering to share stories and experiences of the General who, until yesterday, was their Major Superior. Scholastics, mostly in their twenties, from East Timor, Myanmar, China, the Philippines, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand have expressed their delight in and appreciation of the choice of the Congregation. Isaias Caldas, a junior from East Timor, wrote to his Regional Superior, Fr. John Mace, thus: “Personally I am excited and overjoyed because this General is someone whom I know personally, a General who always passes by in front of AIR after his lunch in EAPI, a General who once told us during one of his exhortations to the community to make our religious struggles become “big,” [broad in apostolic horizons] not limited only to our worries about prayer and chastity, a General who wants us to think now about what we can do in the future, a General who wishes us to be very good at one thing for, if that is so, we would be very useful in our ministry later, a General who has good humor and is friendly to us scholastics, a General who encourages me to read more and watch good movies like a good Jesuit.”

“Because we are poor, God is our only strength.”

Yesterday morning, in the Aula, when it became clear that Adolfo Nicolas had been chosen, and when he finally left his place among the electors to stand and then kneel in our midst to make his profession of faith, I found myself, to my embarrassment, unable to control my tears. I felt such pity for Nico, as we placed the enormous burden of the governance of the Society on him, and also such gratitude to him, too, for his willingness to accept this office for the sake of the Society. As I wept, I found myself repeatedly praying a single sentence: “Lord, help Nico.”

Today, however, I am more at peace, mostly because I see that the General is at peace too. This evening, Fr. General led us in a Mass of Thanksgiving at the Church of the Gesù. His homily (in Italian interspersed with a few “Italianized” Spanish words!) was deep and moving, radiant with “Evangelical simplicity,” one European Jesuit told me, “without a single excess word.” He reflected on the Servant of Yahweh in the book of Isaiah. Where does this humble servant get his strength to serve? To answer this question, Nico shared an experience he had during his ministry to migrant workers in Japan. A woman, a Filipina, overwhelmed by her many problems, confessed to her friend her confusion and near despair. Her friend, also a Filipina migrant worker, simply said to her: “Let us go to Church. Because we are poor, God is our only strength.” Once again, when I heard these last words, I felt tears rush to my eyes, because it seemed to me that Fr. General had borrowed the words of this poor, vulnerable, faith-filled woman to speak of himself.

“Because we are poor, God is our only strength.” It is surely appropriate, that as we pray in gratitude to God for the gift of our new General, we pray too for him. May God be Nico’s only strength, as he leads us, in wisdom, courage and compassion, in the Society’s service of “God alone and the Church, his spouse, under the Roman Pontiff,” ad majorem Dei gloriam.

Daniel Patrick Huang, S.J.
20 January 2008

Something even more basic than land

Compare that last first column of the year [sorry, got confused over online and print publication dates] with this altogether more earnest Inquirer editorial written three weeks later.

To ask that question is to realize that the Sumilao case is ultimately about something even more basic than land. It is about our dignity as men and women who are free to choose, a dignity rooted, the bishops may well say now and as “Gaudium et Spes” reminded us then, in the very image of God. If the farmers choose what a materialistic world may consider the lesser portion, what of it? Is their choice necessarily invalid because it nets them less money? Development cannot be sustainable if it is founded on the original sin of injustice.

Filtering saffron

The OpenNet Initiative is the work of a consortium of four universities: Toronto, Harvard, Cambridge, and Oxford. It has just released a report documenting the Internet shutdown in Burma: what the G-lite revolution was, and how Burma’s generals cracked down on it. Disconcerting reading.

In his email, Patrick McKiernan of Harvard’s Berkman Center for Internet and Society writes:

“Pulling the Plug” builds upon past ONI research to contextualize the recent technical and political developments in Burma. In turn, the bulletin has implications for the role of information technology and citizen media on democracy and economic growth, which are among the topics that will occupy the Berkman Center over the next decade.

The bells toll for Oriana too

Good to see that John Allen is back. His report on the deathbed friendship between a bishop and a famous and feisty atheist — Oriana Fallaci, no less — is moving and, in that almost throwaway manner I have come to expect from him, revelatory. (The notion, new to me, of "Christian atheists," is used as mere introduction!)

Their improbable friendship illustrates an important current percolating in contemporary Western culture, a budding détente between institutional Christianity and some of its sharpest Enlightenment-inspired critics, motivated by a deep sense of shared peril.

The heart of the story, however, lies in Bishop Rino Fisichella’s recollection of Fallaci’s dying days.

Fallaci returned to Italy in her final days because, she said, she didn’t want to die in exile. She asked Fisichella to help arrange a room for her in Florence where she could look out at the famous dome of Brunelleschi atop the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. She also requested a CD with the sound of church bells to play softly in the background.

It was Fallaci’s desire, Fisichella said, that on the day of her funeral, the bells of the cathedral would ring out. It wasn’t easy to arrange, Fisichella said. Though he didn’t elaborate, it’s well known that some Catholics objected to bestowing such an honor upon a professed atheist, while others argued that it would be seen as an endorsement of her stridently anti-Islamic views. Nonetheless, Fisichella said, he managed to pull it off.

PS. I started when I read that bit about the church bells; it is a sound I, too, can listen to, and for hours on end.