That the university and the humanities have a long shared story does not require an elaborate explanation. One merely needs to look up the precipice of the University of Santo Tomas (UST) Main Building to visualize this natural connection. 

Flanking the Tria Haec (the figures of Faith, Hope, and Love) on the left are the Dominican monk and writer Vincent de Beauvais, bishop-theologian Saint Augustine, and canon lawyer Saint Raymond of Peñafort.

On the right of Tria Haec are the Dominican philosopher-theologian Saint Albertus Magnus and the philosophers Aristotle and Plato. 

On A. Lacson side are the writers Lope de Vega, Aristophanes, and Moliere, while on the P. Noval perimeter are the playwrights Calderon de la Barca, Sophocles, and William Shakespeare. 

The architecture therefore of UST's oldest, most storied, and most imposing edifice is itself a testament to the humanistic roots that UST shares with most universities all over the world. 

Since its inception, the university has been deemed as the premier custodian of human civilization, of which the humanities give the noblest expressions. The songs and dances we perform, the poems and works of fiction we read, the historical narratives we weave, the monuments and works of art we create, the philosophic discourses we exchange, are all testaments to the richness and complexity of our nature as human persons.

The humanities celebrate the human by rendering such nature in a form that can be touched, seen, admired, felt, thought so that ultimately, it can be owned, shared and loved.  Thanks to the university, the humanities can enjoy the space they need to thrive.  Thanks to the humanities, the university can help students find their soul to realize what makes them whole.

In recent years however, we have seen how global developments have led to the diminishing recognition of this vital connection due in no small measure to a dramatic confluence between economy, science and technology, and education. 

In this new configuration, economy becomes the goal; science and technology become the norm and education is reduced to an instrumental role. As a result, conscious efforts have since been enacted to make the educative process more compliant with either the economy or science and technology. 

Students are now seen as stakeholders, lessons as outcomes, books as resources, knowledge as capital, and research engagement as productivity. Teaching strategies are recalibrated to be efficient, convenient, and mobile – a process relatively similar to how we pay our bills, book a flight, or do our shopping online.  

No wonder why in the same span of time, academes all over the world have been rather lukewarm to the humanities if not outright dismissive. 

The average perception is that humanities do not produce employable skills or competencies hence the decision to reduce their course offerings. The other perception says humanities do not generate new knowledge hence the condescending attitude towards the merits of their research outputs. In other countries, this misrecognition takes the form of budget cuts of humanities departments or total suspension of grants for initiatives or programs related with humanities.  

At first glance it would appear as if this crisis affects humanities alone.  A closer look however would reveal that what is stake here, besides humanities, is the very idea which makes the university what it is. 

In the 19th century, Europe also found itself in the same crossroads. In the midst of such crisis, Cardinal Henry Newman, a clergy and academic, confronted the question of the idea of university. To paraphrase the elaborate and elegant prose with which he framed his thoughts, Cardinal Newman defined the university as none other than the place where we look for truth. 

Truth is more than just data, more than analytics, more than impact factor.  There is truth in physics as there is truth in music; there is truth is architecture as there is truth in psychology; there is truth in medicine as there is truth in literature; there is truth in theology as there is truth in philosophy; there is truth is history as there is truth in fine arts. 

The list of disciplines can go on. Truth is contained in each of them but never by only one of them. Truth is sought and has better chances of getting found when disciplines converse and converge, like musical instruments in a symphony, without infringing the respective disciplinal autonomy. 

Etymologically, the word university means whole or entire. Operatively, such wholeness or entirety is derived from the shared desire to find and speak of truth, or in the words of Aquinas, to contemplate and share its fruits with others, through the avenues specific to the individual disciplines. It is therefore futile as it is counterintuitive for any knowledge domain to impose itself on another since a hubris of such kind belies the very idea of a shared search for truth in the name of which the university strives. 

Humanities affirm and secure the legacy of the human spirit. Hence, the university as the alma mater, that is, the curator of soul, needs the humanities as its conduit to promote human flourishing and advance the cause of a just and humane community, locally and globally. 

To become doctors, chemists, artists, lawyers, accountants, teachers, architects, engineers, musicians, or entrepreneurs, students need to acquire professional competencies. But to become the kind of doctors, chemists, artists, lawyers, accountants, teachers, architects, engineers, musicians, or entrepreneurs who are able to cooperate with each other and reach out to those in need, students need humanities, and that is where the value of university education lies. 

If education had an instrumental character, it is mainly in relation to this humanistic imperative, not to any economic agenda nor any ideological ends, scientific or otherwise. Relishing the insights of Cardinal Newman on the idea of university, Timothy Radcliffe, former Master General of the Order of Preachers, had this to say to the graduates of Yale University: "…the primary function of a university is to teach us to be social beings, able to talk, to listen and learn from those who are different."

At the end of the day, the quest for knowledge cannot be divorced from the love of wisdom. There should not be any contest, hence, between our search for facts and our pursuit for a shared sense of meaning. Either of these tasks is indispensable in our common search for truth which underlies the very idea of university. 

The struggle for the recognition of humanities' role in the academe redounds to the affirmation of this idea. Besides, an apologia for the humanities is ultimately an appeal as well for the recognition of autonomy of the respective disciplines. It is an appeal against a mindset which, since warped and myopic, cannot conceive of cooperation beyond its parochial concerns. – Rappler.com

Jovito V. Cariño is a member of the Department of Philosophy, University of Santo Tomas.

Editor's Note: Archbishop Socrates Villegas first wrote this Palm Sunday reflection in April 2011. Rappler is republishing this with his permission to mark Holy Week 2018.

The first day of Holy Week is called Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion. We recall the triumphant entry of the Lord into Jerusalem, hence the blessing of palm branches. Beyond this majestic welcome will be the mockery and scourging, the crucifixion and death of the same Lord. In calling this day Passion Sunday, we recall the pains the Lord endured in the hands of men; we remember the death he valiantly faced. We remember the love that he poured into his sufferings.

There is a second meaning to the words "passion of Christ." It could also refer to the zest that comes from within him – a great commitment to somebody or to something. Passion could also mean a powerful or compelling feeling within us that drives us to think and talk and act in a consonant fashion.

The passion of Christ is love. The passion of Christ is the will of the Father. The passion of Christ is our salvation. What is your passion?

When I ask you "What is your passion?" I mean to ask, "What animates you?" What excites you? What sets you on fire? What do you believe in? Are you still a Christian with firm convictions, or have we become so deeply compromised that we are no longer sure on which we stand? Analysis kills our passion and fire. Grain once ground to flour, springs and germinates no more (Henri Amiel). What is it in your life that you are willing to die for? What is it in your life that you are willing to suffer for?

The color of this day is red because red is the color of fire. It is also the color of blood. Indifference must be cured with fire. The uncaring attitude must give way to a passion for love. Christ's sufferings must urge us to be more involved and be more passionate. Apathy must give way to involvement for the transformation of society.

Let us allow the fire and blood of Holy Week to set our hearts on fire with a passion for stewardship. May the Lord ignite our hearts and inspire our souls for stewardship as we move closer to Easter.

This is our Credo of Stewardship:

I believe in the God of love,
the owner of everything who possesses everyone.
I believe in the God of mercies who has chosen me
to be a steward of Mother Nature and Mother Church,
in spite of who I am and what I have done,
and in spite of the infidelities He knows I will still commit.

I believe in the power of giving
and in the power of loving like Jesus;
because love is the only way to holiness;
giving is the best proof of loving;
and perfect renunciation leads to unlimited fruitfulness.

I believe that in freely giving my time,
in humbly sharing my talents,
and in generously sacrificing my treasures,
the Lord will always provide.
He will take care of all my needs,
and bless me with infinite reward on earth and in heaven.

I will be the first to give.
I will not wait for the others.
I will keep on giving even if others do not give.
I will not be afraid to have none.
I believe that the best time to share is now, not tomorrow,
for tomorrow is an excuse of the greedy.

I will keep my needs and wants simple and few,
for I believe that in reducing my selfishness,
I will grow in happiness and holiness.
I am a steward of the Lord.
I will return all these to Him with abundant yield!
Much is asked of me because much has been given to me.

I praise the Lord for His kindness to me
Now and forever.

Amen.

– Rappler.com

Janet Lim Napoles has so far spent 5 Holy Weeks in jail, from the time she surrendered to the Aquino administration in November 2013 over charges that she connived with public officials to spend our taxes on ghost projects, fake NGOs, ritzy apartments, and bank accounts bursting with lies. That the justice department now wants to cover her with a mantle of state protection makes us wonder from where her angels have descended – and whether we now have been condemned to a lifetime of crucifixion. 

We write about the pork barrel queen in the holiest of weeks in Asia’s biggest Christian country, and rightly so. She represents one of our worst contradictions as a nation of the faithful, which now seems ready to lend a hand of reconciliation to the woman who flaunted her billions and flouted the law, but turns a blind eye to those sentenced to death without the benefit of trial – convicted by a crowd that abhors drugs and lusts for blood, much like the crowd that cried “Crucify him!” thousands of years ago.  

We write about the pork barrel queen in the week when we are asked to repent and reflect, and rightly so. She represents the impotence of repentance in the absence of penance, because while they say she seems bent on conceding to her crime, she would do so not just by dragging other people who could be brought to the jailhouse she now occupies, but by getting state support to help her walk away from it.

That is justice right there – justice for people who dance in the corridors of power, justice for those who have access to all its levers.  

We write about Janet Napoles this week, because the attempt by the Department of Justice to resurrect her, at taxpayers’ expense, reminds us of the mock trial thousands of years ago, that pitted the Son of God with an angry mob and a weak leader who bowed to its wishes. Except that in this case, we are the mocked.

For it is the luck of Napoles that she was born later, at a time when people are granted the right to a full, transparent, documented trial that does not rule on the basis of a crescendo of voices. But it is also to our bad luck that she was born at a time when people like her – moneyed, connected, invested – are granted the privilege to make a mockery of such trial. 

The court of last resort in this case, the Sandiganbayan, appears to share our despair, gauging from the tough questions the justices asked of Napoles’ lawyers and prosecutors when they heard the plan to have her under the government’s Witness Protection Program.

The anti-graft body, after all, has been witness to piles of documents and personal testimonies attesting to her deep involvement in an elaborate scam of using taxpayers’ money to bribe lawmakers and enrich her family – all in the name of helping the poor.  

Indeed, what crime could be worse than that? 

Thus, as we slow down this week for a moment of reflection, we take heed of the fact that faith becomes meaningless when confined merely to its rituals, its self-flagellations, its verses and Hail Marys. The injustice suffered by the powerless, as exemplified by the man crucified many lifetimes ago, does not only persist, it is made possible by those who claim to believe in him and what he preaches. In the same breath, the justice enjoyed by the powerful, as shown by the woman who might just get away, does not only persist, it is also made possible by those who claim to fight for the powerless.  

Shouldn’t this be enough reason to consider that perhaps we deserve our Good Friday represented by among the worst of our contradictions: Janet Lim Napoles? – Rappler.com 

(First of two parts)

This is a modified version of the statement the author read in the joint hearing of the Senate committee on constitutional amendments and revision of codes and the committee on electoral reforms and people’s participation on March 13, 2018.

Reforms in the Local Government Code can address the delegation of more power and resources from the central to the local governments in the Philippines without shifting to federalism. Moreover, legislation can do it without the drawbacks, dangers, and divisiveness of overhauling the Constitution just to shift to a federal system of government.  

My argument is based on the insights of the institutional design literature in political science – the very literature that specializes in the institutional questions the Philippines is currently grappling with. Ironically, it has barely been recruited to shed light on these questions.

The institutional design literature studies how the specific design (or redesign) of a country’s political institutions, such as the form of government and system of government, affects or will affect, among others, the accountability, representation, popular empowerment, elite capture, and coherent policymaking of the state.

The institutional design literature counts some of the biggest names in the political science discipline, including the winners of the Johan Skytte Prize in Political Science, which is considered as the most prestigious prize in political science. Think of it as our discipline’s Nobel Prize. 

Because of time limitation, I could only share two of the many cautionary insights available from the institutional design literature when attempting constitutional overhauls, especially when involving democratic regimes. 

No consensus on superiority

The first cautionary insight is that there is no consensus on the superiority of a federal to a unitary system of government. This is also true in the case of the form-of-government debate, where there is no consensus on the superiority of a parliamentary/semi-presidential to a presidential form of government. 

While some scholars argue that federal systems are superior to unitary systems of government, other scholars find that there is no meaningful difference in the performance between federal and unitary systems on several key indicators. These key indicators include human development, economic performance, income inequality, democratic stability, quality of democracy, rule of law, and anti-corruption campaign. 

This lack of consensus among scholars of institutional design makes problematic the argument of the overwhelming majority of the pro-federalism literature in the Philippines that takes as gospel truth the superiority of the federal system to a unitary system of government.  

Reform, not overhaul 

The second cautionary insight involves the recommendation of top institutional design scholars for democratic countries with already functioning systems or forms of government to reform rather than overhaul their systems or forms of government.  

The first reason an overhaul is strongly discouraged is because it is unnecessary. If there is no superiority, then there is no need for an overhaul. 

The second reason is because an overhaul is unbelievable. Institutional overhaul tasks are too institutionally and intellectually complex for the lofty goals that proponents talk about.  

This institutional complexity is especially true for federalism, where, depending on which proposed federal constitution for the Philippines one is reading, state or regional governments, constitutions or organic laws, courts, and bureaucracy would have to be created. 

Of the 4 federal constitutions introduced since 2005, only two bother to give explicit time frames, and they range from the minimum of 6 years and a half of PDP-Laban to a minimum of 10 years of Dr Jose Abueva, and this is just to start the process of federalism going. This, of course, easily goes beyond the single term of the president currently allowed under the 1987 Constitution, and immediately raises questions on the role of the presidency in the transition. 

If overhauling either the form of government or the system of government is already frowned upon, it becomes even more problematic in the Philippines because the proposed constitutional overhaul preferred by President Rodrigo Duterte involves both the form of government and the system of government. No democratic country with an existing unitary-presidential setup has been crazy enough to make these constitutional overhauls at the same time!

In terms of intellectual complexity, the institutional design literature has sobered from the enthusiasm of the early 1990s on the power to get right the institutional design of political institutions. A good part of this sobering is the realization that actual empirical outcomes of institutional reforms did not conform to the glowing theoretical predictions of reformers. This is true for parliamentarism/semi-presidentialism and also true for federalism. 

For instance, political scientist Jonathan Rodden, a leading expert on fiscal federalism, argues in a book chapter entitled Federalism: 

The classic economics literature yielded some testable positive claims, most of which linked federalism and decentralization to broad improvements in efficiency, giving the literature a strong normative flavor that found its way into policy debates. As decentralization and federalism spread around the world along with democratization in the 1990s, these claims seemed increasingly anachronistic in the face of subnational debt accumulation and bailouts among large federations and evidence of corruption and inefficiency associated with decentralization programs. Furthermore, crossnational empirical studies linked federalism with macroeconomic distress (Wibbels 2000; Treisman 2000b) and corruption (Treisman 2000a).

This is a very different assessment of the recent experience of federalism from the rosy pictures being sold in this country. 

Thus, the Philippines’ constitutional overhaul project circa 2016-2018 is the height of intellectual irony. As the scholars of the literature on institutional design – the real experts on these issues – have counseled caution and moderation, most proponents of charter change in this country have instead become gung-ho in campaigning to overhaul both system and form of government and at one go! This raises the question whether, intellectually, the Philippines’ constitutional overhaul project is a matter of hubris or sheer ignorance of expert literature. 

The third reason against overhaul is because it is unsafe, especially if the body that will do the rewriting is the same body that benefited from the old unitary setup, like the Philippine Congress constituted as a constituent assembly. This is partly because of the multitude of institutional features needed to make a federal system work properly. Since most of these features are subject to the inevitable compromises with existing vested interests from government officials who profit from the current unitary system, scholars warn of the grave danger that a constitutional overhaul may produce institutional Frankensteinian outcomes that combine the worst of the old unitary and the new federal systems.

On the other hand, piecemeal reforms that move the current setup to a more federal-like direction (such as increased local and regional autonomy in the Philippines) usually involve only legislation. Scholars argue that if there are errors in the reforms, it would be easier to return to the old setup or to address these shortcomings through new legislation. This will be excruciatingly difficult to do in a messed-up constitutional overhaul, especially involving federalism with its principle of constitutional entrenchment, where the federal features of the constitution could no longer be changed without the concurrence of the newly created constituent governments. – Rappler.com 

(To be concluded)

Gene Lacza Pilapil is an assistant professor of political science at the University of the Philippines Diliman. He has an ongoing research project entitled “A Critical Review of the Federalism Project of the Duterte Administration” funded by the Office of the Chancellor of the University of the Philippines Diliman, through the Office of the Vice Chancellor for Research and Development’s Outright Research Grant.

When will the suffering of the world be diminished? Let us learn from the way of Jesus: he counters suffering with love, transforms his very own death with the glory of his resurrection, and the greatest of all, offers forgiveness beyond the weight of our sinfulness. 

Suffering lurks in the peripheries of the world. People pay the price of war, civil disturbances, economic disparity, terrorism, environmental destruction, tragedies, consumerism, and all others.

The Church speaks of suffering among migrants driven from their homeland because of poverty, hunger, war, and oppression. It speaks of suffering among nations driven by indifference due to wrong notions of ideological ideals. It speaks of suffering among families affected by moral, economic, financial, social, and behavioral crises.

The Church speaks of suffering among peoples driven by hatred because of faith, color, or gender, and inflicted upon the environment for lack of concern for future generations.

The Church speaks of suffering among women who suffer most due to discrimination and sexual abuses. It speaks of suffering of individuals on the streets who have no shelter and food, and persons being killed as a way to curb the drug problem and other social ills. The Church speaks of suffering of the victims of "clerical sexual abuses."

All these are rooted in greed for power, indifference to persons, social injustice, and lack of concern for humanity.

Humanity suffers 

Do I suffer with Jesus? The Holy Week is an opportunity for us to make our suffering real, and to achieve a sense of "fullness" in our Christian journey. The prelude to the death and resurrection of Jesus is the understanding of his life's mission as a "via" of fulfilling the Father's will, through suffering rooted for a greater cause – saving humanity, revealing to mankind the goodness and love of his Father.

Our world needs to counter human suffering with goodness of and for humanity: to demand a just and lasting peace for countries that are internally and externally engaging in wars; to encourage economy of sharing among rich nations with the poor and developing countries; to break the unjust cycle of debt payments and obligations in Third World countries; to encourage social equity instead of promoting capitalist-based economy.

In the end there are still ways and means to transform our greed-driven collective suffering with that of social balance based on justice.

We are not just identifying Jesus' suffering as ours. It is making us discover our sense of mission for a greater purpose: the way of availing ourselves for humanity's suffering; not of solving problems, but rather accompanying people to work and fight for relevance and justice.

Transforming suffering

We cannot escape suffering. Jesus breathed his last in the midst of persecuted followers, restless revolutionaries, pawns of an oppressive regime, and even shadow opportunists. His brutalized body bore the marks of injustice, of spitting and whipping. His soul still wanted to forgive in the midst of suffering. 

While hanging on the cross in the act of fulfilling his mission from his Father, Jesus prayed these words from the Psalms: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mark 15:34) And yet, his suffering offers transformation in the midst of wailing, hopelessness, and brokenness. This is the meaning of the cross: the path of humanity crossed by the transformative effect of his redeeming love.

We take the suffering of Jesus as ours; his own life is not far from ours. He journeyed through life's pains and struggles. His humanity fully incarnated in ours was not lived in a superhuman environs. Not a mere human likeness, but real as a poor man. He took the hammer and nails, and like any other carpenter, made a living as a handyman in his town – earning a just living, and learning to perfect the craftsmanship of building not only houses but homes. 

Redemptive suffering

His incarnation means both accepting his humanity but also enduring the pain of suffering. He was rejected, persecuted, and sentenced to death with a stain of injustice. Jesus uttered this on his last breath: "It is finished!" (John 19:30) His redeeming death terminated our human death, one that offers hope beyond our human suffering.

Jesus did not expect the glory of his resurrection; it is not the reward of what he died for. It is entirely from the will of the Father.

As a person of mission, he went beyond the opportunities of power and opulence. His revolution was not political. Rather he showed a real revolution based on authentic redemption – freeing people from the bondage of sin and unjust social structures. He engaged violence with the non-violent power of the cross. He sought justice from the authentic interpretation of love. He empowered his disciples not with riches but the richness of service. "God's tangible and powerful love: a love that can be encountered, a love fully revealed in Christ’s passion, death and resurrection..." (Pope Francis, LF, 17)

Love, then, is the redeeming reason for Jesus' suffering. — Rappler.com

Brother Jaazeal "Tagoy" Jakosalem, OAR, is a visual artist and sustainability educator. He studied philosophy, finished his theology in 1999, and has been active with the Climate Reality Project, a global climate movement founded by Nobel Laureate and former US vice president Al Gore.

President Rodrigo Duterte issued in December 2016 Executive Order No. 10 to organize a Consultative Committee on constitutional reform. But this body has only recently commenced its work because members of this committee were named only last January. This delay is understandable given that President Duterte had a lot on his plate in 2017.

But President Duterte is now making up for lost time and has directed the Consultative Committee to produce a draft federal constitution by June of this year. The plan is to announce this draft to Congress and to the people in his State of the Nation address in July.

Clearly, the Charter Change process is well under way. But we must remember that revising the Constitution encompasses a broader political reform effort. It is, in a sense, a reset button because the scope of what aspects of our political system can be changed is wide open.

For instance, the Consultative Committee reaped public approval recently when they voted to institute a self-executory provision regulating political dynasties. But former chief justice Reynato Puno’s declaration that this particular provision is a condition sine qua non in establishing a federal system in the Philippines caused a stir, given that dynastic politicians dominate political leadership in the country.

Naturally, President Duterte being the patriarch of a political dynasty, expressed some apprehension over this contemplated provision in the draft federal constitution.

The reality is that pathologies in a constitution can emerge during its reign. These pertain to provisions in the constitutional text itself that may have been designed with good intentions but have eventually become debilitating to the political system it purports to govern. Our 1987 Constitution is no exception.

In fact, Dr Raul C. Pangalangan, the former dean of the University of the Philippines College of Law and presently a judge in the International Criminal Court, has shed light on one such organic irregularity in our Charter, a “built-in contradiction between the economic and the governance clauses of the Constitution.”

This pathology Pangalangan has identified dovetails with the “economic” amendments agenda which is fundamentally grounded on the belief that de-nationalizing economic sectors in the country will bring in a deluge of foreign direct investments (FDI).

In a letter submitted to the Senate Committee on Constitutional Amendments, the Makati Business Club, one of the more vocal and ardent promoters of economic liberalization, cited 3 major impediments to FDI growth in the Philippines: “(1) the perception of high levels of corruption in government; (2) restrictive foreign ownership rules; and (3) uncompetitive labor compliance costs.”

Clearly, simply removing foreign ownership restrictions would not automatically inundate the economy with FDI because the other two obstacles must be addressed as well. And given that the Philippines currently ranks 101^st in the Corruption Perceptions Index 2016, opening industries to foreign ownership without the accompanying governance and labor reforms will probably only result in modest, if not minimal, growth in FDI levels. 

But what about other pathologies? Let us look at our national language. Article XIV lays out an interesting arrangement on this subject that needs to be reconsidered.

We have one national language, which is Filipino (See Section 6). But we also have two official languages, which are Filipino and English (See Section 7). And no law has ever been passed to remove the status of the latter as such. In fact, until now the language of government, of legislation, and of the courts in the Philippines continues to be English.

Then, we also have auxiliary languages such as Cebuano, Hiligaynon, Ilocano, Waray, Tausug, and so forth, which are all contemplated to function as a third-level means of communication within the regions where they are spoken.

But this neat grouping of Philippine languages is not that accurate. The fact is most Filipinos commonly relate with English because it is the official language widely used by the state. Moreover, the use of Filipino as the language of the nation is suspect because it is basically a Tagalog clone. And hence it is very rarely spoken by nationals outside the Tagalog region.

A provision that is inconsistent with the actual conditions and sentiments of the people has no place in the Constitution. Correspondingly, our experience of languages spoken in the country necessitates a rethinking of the constitutional designation of Filipino as a national language.

Is it still necessary to have just one artificially created national language given the richness of our linguistic heritage? Or is it now more appropriate for our language diversity to be officially acknowledged because it reflects the narrative that is real to all Filipinos? A constitution could recognize more than one national language after all.

Additionally, should English now be unequivocally accepted as the lone official language of the Philippines because doing so more accurately reflects the reality in our day-to-day lives? English is obviously a colonial language. But considering that American colonization is a fact of life that is universally shared in the Philippines, the designation of English as such would certainly be more unbiased for all Filipinos than Filipino.

With Filipinos now being genuine citizens of the world, claiming the lingua franca of the day as our one and only official language makes practical sense. Plus, insisting on having just one national language seems anachronistic. Our nationhood now ought to be founded on deeper grounds than just having a common native tongue. Indeed, it is only fair to demand that the linguistic and cultural diversity of the country be prominently manifested in our Constitution.

In sum, as the principal actors in the constitutional reform process, we must now focus on painstakingly diagnosing pathologies in our national charter. Furthermore, we must be ready to actively participate in the hearings and consultations to be initiated by the Consultative Committee. So that whatever happens in 2019, or even in 2022, one outcome we can all look forward to is this: more Filipinos with a deeper appreciation of the 1987 Constitution. – Rappler.com

Is it wrong to be happy during Holy Week? Is sadness obligatory during Holy Week? No, it is not wrong to be happy during Holy Week. There is no law requiring us to put on a sad face this week.

Happiness is one of the sure signs of holiness, but it is a different kind of happiness. It is not the happiness of merrymaking. It is not the happiness of the circus or carnival. It is not the pleasure of good food and booze. It is not the happiness of the picnic or excursion. It is not that kind happiness.

But we must be happy this week, though in a quite different way. It is the happiness that proves holiness. It is the happiness that only Jesus can give.

Where is that happiness during Holy Week? Three forgotten yet simple trails lead to it.

The first trail to happiness is to dream big. This big dream is the hope that gives purpose to our today. People who have no more dreams cannot but be sad. To get rich, to reach heights, to go places, to wield power, to be strong, to live long – these are ordinary dreams. Many spend their lives and fortune pursuing these dreams, but the one big dream that makes us happy is "I want to be a saint." The dream of holiness, the vision of heaven, the goal of endless bliss in heaven – no dream can be bigger than this. If you set your dream on being a saint, you will be happy and holy even now.

To be a saint is to be normal Christian; the problem these days is that we have become too abnormal. Lying and cursing, stealing and killing, greed and avarice, mediocrity and fault finding – these makes us abnormal. They are not big dreams. They are fearsome nightmares. These creepy devils make us more and more a desperately angry society. After being angry, we all become crazy. Tragic.

Obedient love listens

The second sure key to a happy Holy Week is to obey always. Love is always obedient. No, love is not subservient. Love is not domineering. Obedient love listens. Listening is one of the forgotten signs of love. We buy expensive gifts to prove love, but we have forgotten the inexpensive, but not cheap, gift of listening. When we cannot listen anymore without rebutting, without arguing, without shouting, love has been sadly lost. We shout not because we cannot hear but because our hearts have drifted apart. Kapag matigas ang ulo, tiyak iinit din ang ulo. The reward for obedience is happiness. All saints are obedient. You want to be happy? Listen and obey.

The third trail to happiness is to care much. When you care and love, you give permission to be hurt by those you love. In loving, you choose to be vulnerable rather than impenetrable. If you do not like to get hurt, do not love anyone or anything, not even any pet. You will surely not get hurt because you will be hard like stone. In choosing to care much, you risk getting hurt but you keep on loving nevertheless. This is the way God has loved us – He cared much for us that He made Himself vulnerable to our inhumanity, cruelty, and violence. He did not run away. He agonized but did not escape. He faced His betrayer but He did not resist; did not defend Himself nor take vengeance. He was rebuked but He forgave. He cared much. Because He cared much, He reached the climax of true happiness – the joy of dying for your beloved. What a love! What happiness!

Be happy this week. Resist that gloomy sad face. That does not lead to holiness. Be happy but differently happy. Dream big. Obey always. Care much.

Holiness is happiness. They are twins. – Rappler.com

Photo of Palm Sunday by Darren Langit/Rappler

(Conclusion)

This is a modified version of the statement the author read in the joint hearing of the Senate committee on constitutional amendments and revision of codes and the committee on electoral reforms and people’s participation on March 13, 2018.

Part 1: Notes of caution on Duterte’s preferred constitutional overhaul

Is a no-election scenario possible in May 2019? 

This no-el scenario comes from the House of Representatives itself. It is the foundation of House Concurrent Resolution (HCR) Number 9, which was passed last January 16. It is in the report of subcommittee 1 of the committee on constitutional amendments that the no-election scenario of May 2019 is assumed.   

On the other hand, the direct declaration that there will be no election for May 2019 comes mainly from public pronouncements by members of the Lower House led by Speaker Pantaleon Alvarez. The initial game plan is to have a new federal constitution approved during the barangay elections in May 2018. However, this timetable expired even before it started because the Senate did not want to cha-cha if Congress, convened as a constituent assembly, is to vote jointly and not separately. 

What are the implications of a no-election scenario in May 2019? There are many, but I list only two of the most important.

First, this power grab is damaging to democracy since Filipino voters will be deprived for one legislative term their fundamental democratic right to vote their representatives in the legislative branch, voting being the most important political exercise that helps qualify a political system as minimally democratic.

Legislators, on the other hand, will undermine their electoral mandate from the public as they are going to occupy office beyond the terms they were voted for. Both the mandate-deprived Lower House and the Senate will also find their institutions even weaker than they are now vis-à-vis the already powerful Philippine president, who enjoys a robust electoral mandate that is still good for the next half of his term. 

Second, it is injurious to the charter change campaign itself, because it would be exposed as primarily a power grab of self-interested, shameless, and power-hungry legislators, who exploit charter change both as a smokescreen and as an excuse to extend themselves in power.  

Changing rules to allow re-election

Suspending elections involves a shameless power grab of changing the rules to avoid elections. However, the question, “If we were to change the Constitution, would incumbent elective officials who have otherwise reached their term limits be allowed to run in the next elections as if they were running for their first terms?” involves a more sophisticated power grab of changing the rules to allow for re-election.  

Suspension of elections is about a garapal (brazen) power grab; changing the rules to allow for re-election is a more suwabe (sleek) power grab. But this latter power grab can be more dangerous than the former. This is because, come year 2022, this question will involve the incumbent president himself. 

On this re-election question, not only the report of the committee on constitutional amendments of HCR 9 gets implicated but also the proposed federal constitutions of representatives Eugene de Vera and Aurelio Gonzales Jr (Resolution of Both Houses Number 8) and of the PDP-Laban. Because they introduce a new constitution without a provision banning the incumbent president, they must all answer the question whether their new constitution allows the incumbent president of the old constitution – who is barred from running again under the old constitution – to run under the new constitution. 

One of the Senate's resource persons in a previous hearing complained that critics keep on seeing “monsters when there are none,” arguing that there is no term extension for the current president in the PDP-Laban constitution. What he fails to see is the monster he is riding on. Anytime a new constitution is introduced in a presidential democracy with existing term limits, the question of term extension of the incumbent president becomes a central concern. 

This is not based on the “fear of the new” but on knowledge of previous constitutional episodes involving elected strongmen who tried to skirt terms limits of their democracies by coming up with a new constitution. Alberto Fujimori did it in Peru in 1993 with his new constitution that ended the single-term limit for president of the 1979 Constitution. Hugo Chavez did it in Venezuela in 1999 with his new constitution that ended the 10-year waiting period for a president to run again under the 1961 Constitution. Ferdinand Marcos tried to do it in 1971-1972 to override the 8-consecutive-year term limit rule of the 1935 Constitution through a constitutional convention to write a new constitution. But Marcos failed, forcing him to fall back on plan B, which was to declare martial law and terminate Philippine democracy altogether. Changing constitutions is a classic strategy of autocratic leaders elected in democracies but who later undermined their own democracies. 

This concern on presidential re-election becomes even more serious because the institutional design of the transitory provisions of both HCR no. 9 and RBH no. 8 gives the incumbent president mind-boggling powers, such that the president becomes a one-man hyper executive-legislative package. The powers of the president are almost revolutionary.

For example, the report of subcommittee 1 of the committee on constitutional amendments of HCR 9 says: “The incumbent President shall exercise all the powers and functions of the head of state and head of government under this Federal Constitution until the election of the next President and Prime Minister in May 2022. He shall appoint the new Cabinet from among the Members of Parliament. He shall have supervision and direction over the interim Prime Minister and Cabinet.” 

With all these immense powers, and since the new constitution does not bar him to run, he would therefore be in a perfect position to run in 2022, giving him an unbelievable head start over any opposition in the next presidential elections. 

Hence, on this issue, the institutional challenge to protect your democracy is to ban the incumbent president – who is covered by the constitutional ban on re-election under the 1987 Constitution – from running as president under the new proposed federal constitutions.

Since federalism is being sold by most Filipino proponents as supposedly fulfilling the need for sweeping institutional changes to improve our democracy, I challenge all the proponents of federalism from the PDP-Laban to members of the House of Representatives and of the consultative committee formed by President Duterte to put their institutional design where their mouth is: write down a provision banning the incumbent president to allay the valid fears of many Filipinos that this shift to federalism is part of the same script of the current president and his key allies to remain in power beyond his constitutionally mandated term limit under the 1987 Constitution. 

The statement of President Duterte that he will step down in 2022 even if a federal constitution is passed is as good as his campaign promise to ride a jet ski to the Spratlys, a promise which he now teases his own supporters for believing. To make sure that in 2022 he does not tease the country for believing him in 2018 that he will step down once his term ends under the 1987 Constitution and not run again for president, institutionalize his promise to step down by constitutionally barring him to run in your proposed federal constitutions. Ban Duterte, defend democracy. – Rappler.com 

Gene Lacza Pilapil is an assistant professor of political science at the University of the Philippines Diliman.  He has an ongoing research project entitled “A Critical Review of the Federalism Project of the Duterte Administration” funded by the Office of the Chancellor of the University of the Philippines Diliman, through the Office of the Vice Chancellor for Research and Development’s Outright Research Grant. 

Like most Filipinos, I was raised Catholic. Growing up, my childhood was studded with Sunday Masses, religion classes, and daily prayers. 

My favorite book was a thick, hardbound Children’s Bible. It had colorful drawings and large text, each page telling a parable or a story about Jesus and his apostles. They were the characters I grew up with, from far off lands with foreign sounding names: Nazareth, Bethlehem, Jerusalem.  

As a child, I don’t think I quite realized these places were real places, that Israel was a land that existed, that these Holy sites were a plane ride away. Over the years, as I became old enough to understand the significance of the Holy Land in the modern world, I was also becoming less religious. It was a change brought about by a lot of different things, and while I still regarded myself Catholic, practices became less rigid, my faith less sure.

Which is why it surprised me deeply, how I felt when I visited Jerusalem.

Jerusalem's signficance

I am fortunate that my work takes me to places around the world – sometimes for conferences, mostly for coverages. And in January this year, it was to cover cyber security in Tel Aviv, Israel.

Often, when I get to travel for work, I try to squeeze in a day for sightseeing, or at least a few hours to experience the local culture. In Israel, seeing Jerusalem was not a question.

The Old City of Jerusalem is a walled city within the modern city of Jerusalem – something like Intramuros in Manila – and is enclosed by beautiful stone walls, built in 1535. Ancient Jerusalem is the only area in the world considered sacred by Jews, Christians, and Muslims, all of whom believe it holds holy sites relevant to their religions.

My tour took me to see all of the Old City, walking through its 4 quarters: the Muslim Quarter, Christian Quarter, Armenian Quarter, and Jewish Quarter. Each one was special and worth seeing, but having been raised in the Catholic faith, it is the Christian Quarter – and Bethlehem where Jesus was born – that I want to focus this article on.

It was, after all, the sites that touched me the most.

Beyond the architecture or the interiors of these places, it was their significance that overwhelmed me. To follow the path where Jesus walked, to see where he spent the final days of his life, to touch the spot he was crucified – all of it was moving and memorable. 

Despite not being deeply religious, Jerusalem and the energy it exudes is unforgettable. Witnessing the faith of pilgrims from all over the world is an experience in itself. But perhaps what made the most impact on me was that being there made everything I learned growing up feel real. It made it concrete.

And because of that – of seeing the faith of others and of realizing that the Jesus I was taught about lived here and died here, on the ground I walked on, on this very place on Earth – strengthened my faith in an unexpected way.

Here are the top sites that were a must-see for me as a Catholic. 

1. Garden of Gethsemane 

Personally, I realized the visit to the Old City would be an emotional one quite early on in the trip. As we drove around the walled city finding parking, our tour guide Remi pointed out the Church of All Nations in the distance. The Catholic church sits on the Mount of Olives, next to the Garden of Gethsemane, the site where the agony in the garden took place.

The Church is significant, in that it preserves a piece of bedrock believed to be where Jesus prayed the night before his arrest on Good Friday. 

“From that spot, Jesus is said to have walked with his disciples across, here, to Jerusalem,” Remi said.  

I imagined Jesus walking from the Garden of Gethsemane, trekking across the expanse between our bus and the Church, and into Jerusalem, a total walking distance of about one kilometer. It hit me hard to realize this was the path he walked all those years ago, and there I was, seeing for myself the steps he took as he headed towards what he knew would be his final day. 

While my tour did not include a visit to the Church itself and to see the Garden, just seeing it from a distance was moving in itself. I would’ve loved to trace his steps from the Mount of Olives if I had more time.

2. Room of the Last Supper

Our first stop of Christian significance was the room of the Last Supper or the Cenacle. In the Bible, the site is described as an “upper room” and in Christian tradition, is believed not only to be where Jesus ate his final meal with his apostles and washed their feet, but also where the Holy Spirit appeared to the disciples after Jesus’ resurrection. 

The room itself is empty today, but is supported by pillars and columns. But once, I imagined, this room had a table and a meal and 12 seats – an image much like the ones immortalized in religious paintings. 

I asked Remi if this was the actual spot where the biblical events took place. He explained that the structure itself had been rebuilt several times over the past centuries, but that historians agreed that the actual room would’ve been around the area. 

“It could’ve been at this exact spot, or a few hundred meters to the left or to the right of here. But it is agreed by scholars it was somewhere around here,” he said. 

I later found out this applied generally to the other Holy sites.

3. The Basilica of Dormition

A close walk away on Mount Zion is the Basilica of the Dormition, where the Virgin Mary was believed to have died. Catholics believe when Mary died, she was taken into heaven, body and soul – hence, the name of the church which means "falling sleep." Unlike the Upper Room, this Church was a feast for the eyes in all its colorful, mosaic glory.

The main highlight for Catholics would be the statue of Mary in the Crypt. The life-size image is seen lying on her back, her eyes closed, to mark the place where she died. The statue is made of wood, including her dress. Above her is a mosaic of Jesus, with his arms wide open, to symbolize welcoming Mary to Heaven.

Catholics often kneel around her crypt and pray to Mary at this spot, which is striking in both its architecture and sacredness. 

4. Via Dolorosa

The name Via Dolorosa translates to “Way of Grief”. It is a street within ancient Jerusalem and is believed to be the route Jesus walked towards his crucifixion. The total length of the path is about 600 meters, and marks 9 of the 14 Stations of the Cross followed by Catholics. 

The Stations of the Cross marked on this street include the trials by Pontius Pilate, the 3 spots where Jesus was believed to have fallen, and Jesus’ encounters with his mother, Simon of Cyrene, Veronica, and the Pious Women.  

As I walked the path towards the spot of Jesus’ crucifixion, it was difficult not to imagine Jesus’ struggle as he carried the cross. Remi reminded us that during Jesus’ time, none of the current structures were there yet.

“Imagine dirt roads, crowds, and heat,” he said. 

I walked down the route towards the spot where he was to be crucified, thinking of what Remi said and an imagined weight of a 300-pound cross over my shoulder. It was a sobering reminder of Jesus' final steps.

5. The Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre contains the most holy sites in the Christian religion: Calvary or Golgotha, where Jesus was crucified; and the tomb where Jesus was buried before he resurrected. It also has marks of the 5 final Stations of the Cross: the removal of his garments, his crucifixion, his death, the removal of his body from the cross, and the laying of his body on his tomb.

This Church was, by far, the most emotional spot in the journey. Upon entrance, a staircase on the right leads to a second floor, the hill of Jesus’ crucifixion. The spot is richly decorated in golden ornaments, and marked by an altar of Jesus on the cross. There is a long line that lets visitors wait one by one for their turn to touch the marked spot and pay their respects.

Further inside the Church, on the left, is the Aedicule – where the Holy Sepulchre is contained. The box-like structure is a stone room which marks the spot where Jesus is believed to have been buried. The line to enter may take up to an hour as well, but even seeing it from the outside is remarkable. 

Surprisingly, the most stirring for me was the Stone of Anointing at the center of the Church, where Jesus’ body was believed to have been prepared for burial. There was something poignant to me about the spot that lay between Calvary and Jesus’ tomb, the spot where Jesus was laid after he was taken from the cross. 

Seeing pilgrims kneeling, praying, and weeping around the stone proved painful to see – and made it all too real, a reminder of what happened in this spot hundreds of thousands of years ago.

6. Bethlehem 

After our tour of ancient Jerusalem, our group was driven to the border between Israel and Palestine. As part of the tour, we crossed the border to Palestine and was driven to Bethlehem, in the West Bank.

The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem is a large and beautiful white structure, with a short and tiny door. It was built back in the day to prevent camels from entering – at least according to Remi.

The Church of course, was a stark contrast to the story of the night Jesus was born – it having been a manger – but below the Church was a spot that marked where the manger lay.

Unlike the other sites in Jerusalem, the Church gave me a lighter feeling: here was the spot Jesus was born!

It was a good place to end. – Rappler.com

As a documentary photographer, we work hard to make sure that the images we make represent the visual voice of our subjects. Many times I have said, that to be able to capture the pain, anger, fear, anxiety and joy of our subjects, we must also feel them. 

We must do our best to take images with emotional content that can make our audience feel the same emotions that our subject felt at the moment our shutter clicked to freeze the image.

The heart and soul of our work is doing our best to get a reaction and move our audience to act, say something, or acknowledge that something is wrong.

As part of my exhibit, "Bursting at the Seams – Inside Philippine Detention Centers" at the Ayala Museum’s Filipinas Heritage Library Gallery, we decided not to run a video of images accompanied by haunting music, but instead make the empty black wall a space where audiences who visit the exhibition can put in writing their reaction to the images mounted on the walls. (READ: Bursting at the seams: Philippine detention centers)

With two more weeks of exhibition, the wall is getting full.

Those who don’t write their reflection usually stop by the wall and spend time reading the white index cards with black, blue, and pink marking pens.

Parents ask their children to write something. Foreigners use their own language to share their reflections. Others with talents to draw, share their feelings the best way they can.

The big black wall is now an integral part of the exhibition, not with images but with words felt by the audience moved to react and reflect on how they felt looking at the inhumane conditions of our detention centers.

Our goal is to collect all these index cards and give them to the chairs of the Justice committee of the Senate and House of Representatives so that they too can read and feel the silent voice of our citizens, asking for solutions to the inhumane conditions of our penology infrastructure. 

We are sharing their words with hopes that it will encourage you to visit the exhibition.

– Rappler.com 

Rick Rocamora is an award-winning documentary photograher. The photos in this article are reactions to his photo exhibit, "Bursting at the Seams: Philippine Detention Centers," at the second floor of the Ayala Museum. It runs from March 10 to April 6, 2018.

(Sa tradisyon ng pananampalatayang Katoliko, panahon ngayon ng pagninilay. Maraming ritwal ang gagawin kaakibat ng pagninilay na ito hinggil sa buhay at pagpapakasakit ni Kristo. Pero hindi rin maiiwasang sa pagsasagawa ng mga ritwal na ito, agad itong maisisiwalat o maitatanghal sa social media. Dahil narito na tayo sa panahon ng “nagsisi, nanalangin, nag-selfie.”) 

Totoo, nagsimba ako noong bata gamit ang telebisyon. Tandang-tanda ko pa, hinikayat ako ng nanay ko, na na-stroke na noon, na hipuin ang TV namin upang damhin ang presensiya ng Panginoon. Dahil iyon ang utos ng tele-evangelist. Sumunod ako dahil takot akong hindi madama ang presensiya ng Panginoon. Tapos, sabi ng tele-evangelist: “Gagaling! Gagaling! Bura-buraaah!”

Sumunod ako kahit pa nagtataka na kaya palang madama ang Panginoon gamit ang telebisyon. Nang tumanda ako, isang araw ng Linggo habang nakikinig sa misa, napagnilayan ko na lang – naks, big word, pagninilay! – kung saan mabisang lumulunsad at lumalaganap ang pananampalataya: sa teknolohiya.

Sa akademya, tinatawag ang extension theory of technology, na sinimulan ng communication theorists na sina Ernst Kapp at Marshall McLuhan, bilang isang lente ng pagpapaliwanag sa pangangailangan ng tao sa teknolohiya bilang ekstensyon ng kaniyang kakayahan. 

Pinag-ibayo naman ni Clive Lawson ng Cambridge University ang extension theory of technology. Sa artikulo ng propesor ng ekonomiya, na pinamagatang “Technology and the Extension of Human Capabilities,” isinangkot niya ang aniya ay “technological artefacts [that] are conceived of as some kind of extension of the human organism by way of replicating, amplifying, or supplementing bodily or mental faculties or capabilities.”  

Ganito kasi ang nangyari: nakaupo ako noon sa loob ng malaking simbahan sa bayan ng Lucban sa lalawigan ng Quezon kung saan ako ikinasal. Napatingala ako, nakita ang bagong install na speakers ng public address system mula sa isang kilala, mahusay, at mamahaling brand ng audio company. 

Kaya pala malinaw kong naririnig ang salmo at himno, ang mga awit, ang homilya ng pari. Walang garalgal na tunog. Walang makabasag-eardrum na feedback. Parang nariyan lang sa tabi ko ang nagsasalita kahit pa nasa bandang likuran na ako ng mahabang simbahan.

Dito nagsimula ang pagninilay ko: kung malinaw at malakas ngayon dahil sa high-end audio system, paano kaya naghohomilya ang pari sa matandang simbahang ito noong panahon ng Kastila? Noong panahong wala pa sa guni-guni ng mga audio engineers, (heck, wala pa palang audio engineers noon!) ang magandang tunog na dulot ng teknolohiya? 

Paano maririnig ng buong mananampalataya sa loob ng simbahan ang malamyos na tinig ng pari kung walang tulong ng high-end audio system? Kailangang sumigaw mula sa pulpito? 

Siyempre hindi dapat sa tunog o sa sound system magsisimula ang pagtalakay ko sa pananampalataya at teknolohiya. Teknolohiya rin ang pag-igpaw ng pagsulat sa Bibliya mula sa sulat-kamay hanggang sa inobasyon ni Johannes Gutenberg sa pag-imprenta hanggang sa mas malawakang pisikal at birtwal na reproduksiyon nito sa kasalukuyan. Ngayon, kahit walang pisikal na Bibliya, basta may internet, puwede mo nang i-Google o i-download ang buong aklat.    

Sa teknolohiya lumulunsad at lumalawak ang pananampalataya: speaker system imbes na isisigaw ang pangangaral, magagara at mas maaasahang ilaw imbes na kandila, televised na pangangaral imbes na naka-confine lamang sa estruktura, at marami pang iba. 

Sa institusyong ito ng simbahan, ang pagpapalawak ng kasapian at panawagan ng kaligtasan ay maginhawa nang nakatuntong sa teknolohiya. Maging ang Santo Papa ay may sariling Twitter account! Kaya ang iba sa atin ay nagpapahayag ng kanilang pananampalataya sa tulong din ng teknolohiya. 

Dahil armado na tayo ng teknolohiya, kombinasyon ng smartphone at social media para itanghal ang ating sarili, o sa pagkakataong ito, ang sidhi ng pananampalataya. Kung paanong sa mga platform ng teknolohiyang ito naitatanghal natin ang ating sarili, sa parehong platform ding ito tayo nag-iipon at nag-iimbak ng alaala. 

May birtwal na memorya na tayong may kakayahang sinupin ang ating alaala: hard disk ng computer, memory card ng smartphone, o ang “On this day” application ng Facebook na nagpapaalala sa atin ng ini-upload na status ng mga nagdaang taon. 

Umiigpaw na palayo sa ating utak ang alaala. Ekstensyon na ng alaala natin ang teknolohiya. At habang nagiging kombinyente ang pag-iimbak ng memorya, mas lalong nagiging marami ang dapat nating tandaan at itanghal, sa tulong pa rin ng teknolohiya. 

Maraming magbi-video o kukuha ng larawan. Ii-status ang karanasan. At dahil narito na rin lang tayo sa panahong ito, ngayong Semana Santa, ihahayag ang pananampalataya at ritwal gamit ang teknolohiya. Kaya inaasahan ko nang maraming maglalagay ng #BisitaIglesia sa kanikanilang status. Kasunod ang lagi nang residente ng social media na #blessed o #saved o #amen o iba pang hashtag kaugnay ng okasyon.

Maraming digital na larawang may kinalaman sa Mahal na Araw ang ihahayag at iiimbak sa mga darating na oras at araw. At palagay ko, wala namang masama rito. Ano ba naman kung isabay ang pagliliwaliw sa pamamanata? Matutuwa pa nga ang Department of Tourism sa dami ng lokal na turistang tatangkilik sa mga pasyalan natin habang pinatitibay ang pananampalataya.

Pero mungkahi ko, ngayong Mahal na Araw, magandang balikan ang mas malalim na dahilan ng pagninilay. 

Oo nga’t nakapagpapalusog sa ating pananampalataya ang pagtitika at pamamanata kahit pa nakabunyag ito sa madla, magandang balikan ang sinasabi ng Bibliya (teka, ise-search ko sa Google ang eksaktong kapitulo at talata, salamat, teknolohiya), heto: Mateo 6:5. 

Tungkol saan ang talatang ito? Well, wala namang kinalaman sa teknolohiya, pero may kinalaman sa kung paano ka, tayo, dapat manalangin. Paki-Google o pagnilayan na lang din ang talagang ibig sabihin.

***

Sa Abril 7, Sabado ng hapon, dadalo ako sa Batch 1993 silver anniversary reunion ng Colegio de San Pascual Baylon (CSPB) na gaganapin sa mismong campus nito sa Obando, Bulacan. Sa CSPB ko ginugol ang unang dalawang taon ng aking pag-aaral sa high school bago malipat at magtapos sa kalapit na Valenzuela Municipal High School (Polo National High School ngayon).  

Bagamat hindi ako nagtapos sa CSPB, napakaraming karanasan ang natipon ko habang nag-aaral sa paaralang nasa bayan kung saan lumaki ang aking ina. Naging malalalim na kaibigan ko ang mga naging ka-batch ko sa CSPB na sina Jett, Marinella, at Arby. Katunayan, sila ang nag-anyaya sa aking dumalo. Dahil honorary alumni raw ako.

Kaya sa kung sino man sa inyo ang nagtapos sa CSPB noong 1993 (opo, ganyan na katanda ang inyong lingkod) na hindi pa alam na may reunion sa Abril 7, makipag-ugnayan sa Facebook page na ito. – Rappler.com 

Bukod sa pagtuturo ng creative writing, pop culture, and research sa Unibersidad ng Santo Tomas, writing fellow din si Joselito D. Delos Reyes, PhD, sa UST Center for Creative Writing and Literary Studies, at research fellow sa UST Research Center for Culture, Arts and Humanities. Board member siya ng Philippine Center of International PEN. Siya ang kasalukuyang tagapangulo ng Departamento ng Literatura ng UST. 

Editor's Note: Bishop Pablo Virgilio David originally wrote this piece in December 2017. Rappler is republishing this, with his permission, as a reflection piece for Holy Week 2018.

In these very violent times, even as we might sympathize with victims who, out of desperation, are inclined to resort to violent means of redress, knowing how cruelty breeds cruelty, how aggression provokes aggression, how violence begets violence, let us stand our ground and work consistently for truth, justice, and human dignity – but always in a nonviolent way.

Let us never allow ourselves to be motivated by anger or hatred, resentment, revenge, or the instinct to retaliate or return evil for evil.

Let us believe in the innate nobility of the human spirit. Let us not give evil the pleasure of having the last say, by always putting on check our tendency to hit back when we are hurt. Let us not allow the enemy to mold us into his own image and likeness.

Let us never call any human being intrinsically evil even when they commit the most unspeakable forms of depravity. For to do so is to ascribe evil to the God who created them. 

Let us rather fight the evil that has the power to infiltrate what is by nature good in the human soul, especially when the soul is weak and prone to possession, as when a human body succumbs to a bacterial or a viral infection.

Let us arrest the disease right at its very onset, going out of our way to interrupt violence before it escalates and triggers an unstoppable avalanche.  

We can do it, by attending with care and compassion to the healing of the victims of violence, as well as the conversion of its perpetrators, including the seemingly uninvolved fence-sitters.

We've had enough of bloodshed; we are sick and tired of violence and war. They profit nobody except the enterprising arms dealers whose marketing strategies include conflict-instigation and war-mongering.

Let us go for active nonviolence! Let us be ready to look at a violent person in the eye, always ready to reach out to the bruised and scared child underneath the armor and aggression of a stunted adolescent.

Let our only model be Jesus on the cross, who took the blows of his tormentors while praying to his Father to forgive them "for they know not what they do." Let our only exemplar be the God-man who chose to suffer and die than wish the suffering and death of his persecutors. 

Let his resurrection be our weapon and shield, our guarantee of victory, our basis for faith in the God who alone can conquer evil with good. – Rappler.com

More than 30 years ago, the Philippines stunned the world when it brought down its “tin pot” dictator, Ferdinand Marcos, through peaceful means. This victory was dubbed the "People Power Revolution."

Yet in the recent presidential election, Filipinos elected another authoritarian leader, Rodrigo Duterte, who despite his incessant misconduct, was favored by a landslide.

Needless to say, there are a myriad of systematic flaws in the political system that has led the Philippines into its current political state, but one cannot overlook the cultural practices embedded among Filipinos that contribute to the bigger problem. That being the case, the Philippines is in desperate need of a cultural evolution and not just another political revolution.

Since Duterte took office in 2016, the Philippines has experienced political instability. He has led a war against drugs,  resulting into the extrajudicial killing of at least 12,000 drug suspects. There has been pushback against the current regime, but recent efforts have been unsuccessful and have worsen the democratic and human rights condition in the country.

In his most recent stunt, Duterte withdrew from the International Criminal Court after the Human Rights Commission agreed to conduct an investigation on his drug war. Duterte has been critical against human rights, believing that it hinders from justice being served.

'Democratic renewal'

He, like the skeptics that Mark Philip Bradley describes in his work, believes that human rights are “hegemonic Euro-American norms” that have unfairly systematized the global rights order.

In his visit to the University of Michigan, Chito Gascon, the Philippine Human Rights Commissioner, discussed the different ails that need to change like the weak party system and the prominence of political dynasties. He proposed the notion that the country is in need of a democratic renewal. Gascon argued, however, that what needs to take places is “not a restoration of the last thirty years, but a new path where democracy is not in the hands of the elites.”

Academic research coincides with Gascon’s laments.

Allen Hicken has found that the weak party alliances among Filipinos undermine the country’s ability to develop a stable democracy. Teresa and Eduardo Tadem argued in their work that widespread political dynasties, which are entrenched in several mechanisms within patrimonialism, result in “patronage politics, corruption, poverty and underdevelopment, and glaring socio-economic inequalities.”

These systemic weaknesses and its outcomes thwart the country’s ability to cultivate good governance. However, these aren’t the only ones to blame. Cultural norms are also just as liable.

Cultural revolution 

Education plays a key role, and not just in its literal sense, but also in the form of grassroots awareness campaigns that would help disadvantaged Filipinos understand these systemic and cultural ills, its consequences, and how they can help alleviate the problem.

Many Filipinos are misinformed or completely uninformed about different issues, and often don’t seek to change this circumstance. To illustrate, uneducated Filipinos vote based on strong name-recalls.

However, by providing resources and empowering Filipinos with information, it would encourage them to be proactive and allow them to think for themselves.

The media also plays a vital role, both in the news and entertainment, as Filipinos are so easily swayed by what they hear and see on TV. It doesn’t help that TV shows and movies often reinforce negative norms like sexism, romanticizing elitism, and even the frequent discrimination based on skin color. Changing how Filipino culture is portrayed in the media would perhaps influence Filipinos the way negative media does today.

There is no doubt that there needs to be a systemic change in the Philippine political system, but it is equally important for Filipinos to change the very nature of how they operate in their day-to-day lives. The solutions I’ve discussed do not resolve the persistent issues overnight. They’re simple yet require long-term collective action and commitment.

Even Chito Gascon acknowledges that democratic renewal may not occur in his lifetime but perhaps in mine. He believes in the youth’s ability to act collectively and make the change. And it is with this same hope and confidence that I view the Philippines’ future. – Rappler.com 

Patricia Angus is a Political Science and International Relations undergraduate at the University of Michigan. Her area of focus is on comparative politics and international security, norms, and cooperation. Ultimately, her goal is to pursue a career in the field of human rights with a particular interest in poverty alleviation and conflict resolution. 

Sa aklat ng Levitiko, isa raw sa pinakamahalagang bahagi ng trabaho ng mga pari sa templo ay ang alagaan ang apoy sa Kabanal-banalang bahagi ng dambana. Gawain nila ang gatungan ito at tiyaking laging buhay at nag-aalab. Hindi nila ito dapat hahayaang mamatay kailanman. Bakit? Hindi lang dahil dito tinutupok ang mga susunuging handog sa Diyos, kundi dahil ito mismo ang nagpapahiwatig sa kanila ng pananatili ng Diyos sa kanilang piling.

Malalim ang kahulugan ng apoy sa templo para sa mga Hudyo, at para din sa ating mga Kristiyano. Di ba't unang nakatagpo ni Moises ang Panginoon sa nagliliyab na punongkahoy? Di ba't bumaba ang Espiritu Santo sa mga alagad sa anyo ng mga dilang apoy?

Kaya pala sa loob ng ating mga simbahan laging may apoy: ang nakasinding lampara sa tabi ng tabernakulo. Hindi ito dapat mamatay dahil sagisag ito ng pag-ibig ng Diyos. Ang templo ay tahanan ng apoy. Nagbibigay-init sa gitna ng ating panlalamig at ng liwanag sa ating kadiliman.

Ang hula ni Hesus tungkol sa templo ay hinula na rin ni propetang Jeremias noon! Tinuligsa niya ang katiwalian ng mga sumasamba sa templo, na para bang suhol sa Diyos ang tingin sa kanilang mga alay at handog.

"Kayo baga'y mangagnanakaw, magsisipatay, mangangalunya, at magsisisumpa ng kabulaanan, at mangagsusunog ng kamanyang kay Baal, at magsisisunod sa ibang mga dios na hindi ninyo nakikilala?

At pagkatapos, kayo'y magsisiparito at magsisitayo sa harap ko sa bahay na ito, na tumatawag sa aking pangalan, at nagsasabing "Kami ay ligtas!" habang inyong ginagawa ang lahat ng kasuklam-suklam na mga bagay na ito?

Ang bahay bang ito na tinawag sa aking pangalan ay naging isang yungib ng mga tulisan sa inyong pakiwari? Narito ako, ako nga ang nakakita, wika ng Panginoon." 

– Jeremias 7:9-11

Ganito rin ang diwa ng ginawa ni Hesus nang makita niyang naging mistulang palengke ang bahay ng Diyos! Para kay San Juan, sa ganitong paraan natutupad ang nasusulat sa Salmo 69: 10: "Ang alab ng puso para sa iyong tahanan sa dibdib ko'y buhay!"

Kapag ang relihiyon sa atin ay naging ritwal na lang; kapag ito'y parang obligasyon na lang na wala nang epekto sa buhay, pag-iisip, at pag-uugali ng tao, para itong templong wala nang apoy. Kapag ang malasakit para sa kapwa ay wala na, kapag ang alab ng puso para sa tahanan ng Diyos ay patay na, kailangan na itong mawasak upang maitayong muli! Ang tahanang tinutukoy ni Hesus ay ang kanyang katawan, at tayong mga alagad niya ay kanyang kabahagi.

May nagbiro sa akin kamakailan. Sabi niya, "Napakatindi naman ng abo ninyo sa San Roque noong Ash Wednesday, nakakasugat." Kahit alam kong nagbibiro siya, binigyan ko ng siryosong sagot, isang paliwanag na siyentipiko tungkol sa abong nasobrahan ng luto at ang chemical reaction nito nang mahaluan tubig habang mainit pa. Ngumiti lang siya at pinutol ang paliwanag ko.

Biglang nagsiryoso ang mukha at sinabi, "Baka talagang gusto ng Diyos na makasunog at mag-iwan ng sugat ang abo ninyo, para iparamdam ang malasakit sa puso Niya para sa mga kaanak ng mga pinapatay na adik sa inyo." Natahimik ako at napaisip. Sa loob ko parang narinig ko: "Huwag mong hayaang mamatay ang alab ng puso para sa tama at totoo, para sa habag at malasakit." – Rappler.com

I grew up in a Christian home, where a photo of Jesus hung on my bedroom wall. I still have it. It is schmaltzy and rather tacky in that 1970s kind of way, but as a little girl I loved it. In this picture, Jesus looks kind and gentle, he gazes down at me lovingly. He is also light-haired, blue-eyed, and very white.

The problem is, Jesus was not white. You’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise if you’ve ever entered a Western church or visited an art gallery. But while there is no physical description of him in the Bible, there is also no doubt that the historical Jesus, the man who was executed by the Roman State in the first century CE, was a brown-skinned, Middle Eastern Jew.

This is not controversial from a scholarly point of view, but somehow it is a forgotten detail for many of the millions of Christians who will gather to celebrate Easter this week.

On Good Friday, Christians attend churches to worship Jesus and, in particular, remember his death on a cross. In most of these churches, Jesus will be depicted as a white man, a guy that looks like Anglo-Australians, a guy easy for other Anglo-Australians to identify with.

Think for a moment of the rather dashing Jim Caviezel, who played Jesus in Mel Gibson’s Passion of the Christ. He is an Irish-American actor. Or call to mind some of the most famous artworks of Jesus’ crucifixion – Ruben, Grunewald, Giotto – and again we see the European bias in depicting a white-skinned Jesus. (READ: Friday essay: who was Mary Magdalene? Debunking the myth of the penitent prostitute)

Does any of this matter? Yes, it really does. As a society, we are well aware of the power of representation and the importance of diverse role models.

After winning the 2013 Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her role in 12 Years a Slave, Kenyan actress Lupita Nyong’o shot to fame. In interviews since then, Nyong’o has repeatedly articulated her feelings of inferiority as a young woman because all the images of beauty she saw around her were of lighter-skinned women. It was only when she saw the fashion world embracing Sudanese model Alek Wek that she realised black could be beautiful too.

If we can recognize the importance of ethnically and physically diverse role models in our media, why can’t we do the same for faith? Why do we continue to allow images of a whitened Jesus to dominate?

Many churches and cultures do depict Jesus as a brown or black man. Orthodox Christians usually have a very different iconography to that of European art – if you enter a church in Africa, you’ll likely see an African Jesus on display.

But these are rarely the images we see in Protestant and Catholic churches, and it is our loss. It allows the mainstream Christian community to separate their devotion to Jesus from compassionate regard for those who look different.

I would even go so far as to say it creates a cognitive disconnect, where one can feel deep affection for Jesus but little empathy for a Middle Eastern person. It likewise has implications for the theological claim that humans are made in God’s image. If God is always imaged as white, then the default human becomes white and such thinking undergirds racism.

Historically, the whitewashing of Jesus contributed to Christians being some of the worst perpetrators of anti-Semitism and it continues to manifest in the “othering” of non-Anglo Saxon Australians.

This Easter, I can’t help but wonder, what would our church and society look like if we just remembered that Jesus was brown? If we were confronted with the reality that the body hung on the cross was a brown body: one broken, tortured, and publicly executed by an oppressive regime.

How might it change our attitudes if we could see that the unjust imprisonment, abuse, and execution of the historical Jesus has more in common with the experience of Indigenous Australians or asylum seekers than it does with those who hold power in the church and usually represent Christ?

Perhaps most radical of all, I can’t help but wonder what might change if we were more mindful that the person Christians celebrate as God in the flesh and saviour of the entire world was not a white man, but a Middle Eastern Jew. – Rappler.com

Robyn J. Whitaker is a Bromby Senior Lecturer in Biblical Studies, Trinity College, University of Divinity

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

In a drastic yet unsurprising move, Uber has finally ceded its Southeast Asia operations to Grab.

This means that Uber will have a 27.5% stake in Grab, Uber’s CEO will join Grab’s board, Uber staff and drivers will be absorbed by Grab, and Uber’s app will no longer work in our phones.

Above all, this merger makes Grab the ride-hailing monopoly in most of Southeast Asia, including the Philippines.

Why did Uber have to leave the region? What does this mean for Filipino commuters? And what can government do?

Uber’s exit

The emails blasted by Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi to his global staff explain a lot about Uber’s exit.

He said, “One of the potential dangers of our global strategy is that we take on too many battles across too many fronts and with too many competitors.”

Uber is known to pick its battles. In 2016, it yielded its China operations to local player Didi Chuxing for a 17.7% stake in that firm. Early this year, Uber also gave way to Russia’s Yandex for a 37% stake. In all instances, Uber’s strategy is the same: cede market share in exchange for stakes in the local competitor.

But Uber’s exit from Southeast Asia may yet be its biggest move. What brought this on?

First, Grab has catered to the transport needs of Southeast Asians in ways Uber did not.

Grab, for example, introduced such customized services as GrabBike (an alternative to motorcycle-taxis like those in Viet Nam), GrabHitch (now a favorite way to cross the Malaysia-Singapore border), and even Grab Yee Sang (where Grab delivers a specific dish called yee sang during the Chinese New Year rush).

Second, aside from a better understanding of Asian sensibilities, Grab has also carefully avoided needless regulatory entanglements throughout the region. Whereas Uber often found itself clashing with regulators – including our own LTFRB [Land Transportation Franchising and Regulatory Board] – Grab has adopted a softer, more “cooperative” approach.

Finally, Uber’s exit can also be seen as a way to improve its finances – that is, reduce losses in unprofitable markets – ahead of its planned IPO (initial public offering) in 2019.

In this, tremendous pressure to consolidate likely came from Uber and Grab’s common investor, Japan-based SoftBank Group Corp, which now owns large stakes in both ride-hailing companies.

All in all, Uber’s Southeast Asia exit was part and parcel of a global corporate strategy.

Grab’s monopoly

But with Uber out of the way, Grab now enjoys monopoly status in many Southeast Asian countries such as the Philippines. This loss of competition will almost surely mean fewer choices, higher fares, and lousier service for Pinoy commuters.

First, Grab’s monopoly status leaves commuters with no other viable choice.

New ride-hailing services – like Lag Go, Hype, Owto, Hirna, and MiCab – are reportedly seeking accreditation from the LTFRB.

But can these start-ups fill the void left by Uber and provide similar services? MiCab, for example, which first operated in Cebu and Iloilo, turns out to be just a taxi-hailing app with none of Uber’s innovations like dynamic pricing.

More importantly, can these new services grow sufficiently large to chip away at the gargantuan market share now enjoyed by Grab? Although the market is “contestable”, Grab faces no real competition right now.

One exception could be Go-Jek, which has managed to keep Grab at bay in Indonesia. Go-Jek is reportedly expanding in Southeast Asia by the middle of 2018, but will it come to the Philippines too?

Second, Uber’s exit spells higher ride fares, fewer promos, or both.

Most commuters observe that, on average, Grab ride tends to be pricier than Uber rides.

But this actually stems from Uber’s “cross-subsidization” strategy: because of its global reach, Uber can use revenues from profitable markets to partially shoulder fares in unprofitable markets.

Grab – having no such deep war chest to draw from – competes instead with the aggressive use of promos, discounts, and vouchers.

But now, with substantial market power, Grab can easily dispense with such promos. They might even be tempted to raise fares.

China provides a valuable case study: a year after Uber yielded its market share to Didi Chuxing, getting rides there has reportedly become “harder and more expensive than ever before.”

Third, some riders will miss beloved features of the Uber app, including a more seamless design and drivers’ inability to see passengers’ destinations by default. The latter is especially useful in preventing drivers from routinely refusing passengers.

Unless Grab adopts some of Uber’s finer features like these, the consumer experience will likely be no better.

Government’s regulation

Excessive market power is a sign of a “market failure” that can justify government intervention. But how exactly can the Duterte government respond to the Uber-Grab merger?

First, the PCC [Philippine Competition Commission] – tasked by law look into any and all anti-competitive acts – can, in fact, block or nullify the Uber-Grab deal.

The PCC might also prevent higher fares resulting from the merger. The Malaysian government, for instance, has already warned Grab that it will take legal action against any such price hikes.

Second, the National Privacy Commission (NPC) will have to ensure that the migration of users and drivers’ data from Uber to Grab won’t compromise their privacy.

Third, the LTFRB must help to promote competition in ride-hailing. But, at the same time, can it resist the temptation to overregulate?

To wit, the LTFRB gave both Uber and Grab such a rough time last year. Not only did the LTFRB suspend new franchise applications, it also made a show of “losing” Uber and Grab’s accreditation papers in their offices. The LTFRB also suspended Uber for a month and demanded from it a hefty (and rather arbitrary) fine of P190 million.

Worse, some lawmakers are also thinking to require congressional franchises before any and all ride-hailing firms could operate in the country.

No one questions the need to regulate ride-hailing. Quotas, for example, might reduce their contribution to road congestion. But there’s a fine line between regulation and over-regulation that the LTFRB hasn’t quite mastered just yet.

The LTFRB also needs to avoid the use of double standards: last year, when it suspended Uber for a month, the LTFRB supported policies to increase the ridership of regular taxis.

This included express support for the use of taxi-hailing app MiCab in Metro Manila, as well as proposals to grant more taxi franchises.

If congestion were really the problem, why introduce more taxis at the time Uber was gone? Without sufficient study and justification, such policies only reek of opportunism and regulatory capture.

Commuting just got worse

Uber and Grab, left to themselves, have failed the riding public. The government needs to step in to increase commuters’ choices, prevent higher fares, and improve the quality of their services. But is government up to the challenge?

Three agencies are worth watching here: the PCC, the National Privacy Commission, and the LTFRB. Can the first take binding legal action against Uber and Grab if the deal proves anti-competitive? Can the second protect commuters’ and drivers’ data from being compromised? Can the third promote the entry of new players while avoiding the urge to overregulate?

At a time of choking traffic jams, frequent MRT breakdowns, massive transport strikes, and high gas prices, the last thing we need now is a monopoly in ride-hailing. (READ: MRT woes: How often do they happen?)

Who knew commuting around Metro Manila – punishing as it is – could get even worse? – Rappler.com

The author is a PhD candidate and teaching fellow at the UP School of Economics. His views are independent of the views of his affiliations. Follow JC on Twitter: @jcpunongbayan.

Holy Week is a time for quiet reflection, following the station of the cross, travelling to churches for visita iglesia, singing the Pasyon in pabasa, joining Church services – all in the name of the suffering and death of Jesus. The thinking goes: if Jesus suffered and died for us, we should also share even for just a bit in his suffering; and subjecting ourselves to long boring sermons or walking a kilometer or two in a procession could be one of them. So each one is enjoined to fast a little, abstain from some meat, do some personal sacrifices, offer our little pains, and not engage in gossips or boisterous laughter, as my grandmother always warned us as kids – because Jesus is dead.

I am afraid we have domesticated Jesus’ death, romanticized it a little bit, made it palatable to our cozy tastes, packaged safe for our consumption but totally distant from the real events they are supposed to commemorate. We are in danger of forgetting that his was a violent death, the death of a dangerous subversive. And there was nothing ‘pious’ about it!

A theologian once wrote:

“Jesus did not enjoy a peaceful old age. He died violently in the summer of his life. He was not defeated by illness. He wasn't an accident victim. He was executed outside Jerusalem, beside an old rock quarry, by soldiers under the orders of Pilate, the highest authority of the Roman Empire in Judea. It was probably the 7th of April, in 30 A.D. The prefect had sentenced him to death as the instigator of an insurrection against the Empire. Thus his passionate life as a prophet of God’s reign ended on a cross-shaped gallows.” (Pagola, 2011)

To the ruling elite of Jerusalem, Jesus was a subversive prophet. His proclamation that a new kingdom is imminent – the reign of God – proves to be quite disturbing. In Jesus’ time, basileia was a word used only to describe the Roman Empire. There was no other basileia. But Jesus appropriated it and used it to proclaim God’s reign among the poor.

In this new kingdom, the victims, the outcast, the sick and the poor find themselves in the center. His words but also his work (healing the sick, accepting sinners and eating with them, etc.) were an indirect but scathing critique to the religious and political establishment that marginalized and killed them.

He came to Jerusalem riding on a lowly donkey spontaneously cheered on by many. The ruling elite saw this as an indirect parody of powerful kings who used to enter Jerusalem on mighty horses with an orchestrated hakot crowd who were forced to be there.

But what he did in the temple during this last week nailed his fate, a direct affront to the powers that be. He overturned the tables of moneychangers and offerings for sale. It upset the Jews: how dare he insult the place of worship? And it upset the Roman authorities as well: he disturbed the stability of the temple that was the symbol of Pax Romana, the bastion of Roman power in this part of the world.

For all these and more, he was condemned as a criminal and, in a sham trial with stage-managed witnesses, was judged to be cruficied.

I find it necessary to remind us of this context lest we forget that the events we celebrate on Holy Week were harshly prophetic and political.

At best, we see that the most of what we do on Holy Week appear to be sanitized commemorations totally disconnected from history. We can ask, for instance, how does going to seven churches in visita iglesia, praying ten Hail Mary’s in each, with matching ‘selfies’ in front of each church or statue and which looks like more of a family outing ending at Starbucks, relate with Jesus’ difficult journey to Calvary? How does a Chrism Mass with parishioners bearing tarpaulins of large photos of their priests, waiting for them to come out of the cathedral, and screaming like a rock star fans club relate with Jesus feeling so deserted by his disciples and so lonely in the garden of Gethsemane? How does the lavishly decorated altar of repose for the Blessed Sacrament on Holy Thursday relate with the simple supper that Jesus celebrated with his friends with all the painful emotions of knowing that someone they love so dearly is about to die the next day?

At worst, our pious and apolitical religious observance becomes totally contradictory to what they were supposed to be. I have thought of these questions for a long time now: How can millions of Catholics piously kneel and venerate the cross on Good Friday and at the same time approve that addicts must die because they are a threat to the whole country? How dare we call ourselves Christians while 80% of us – mostly Catholics, some of them priests, sisters and lay leaders who are present in Holy Week services or leading them – approve of Duterte’s brazen use of power and his policy to send them helplessly to the slaughter? I have not yet asked about the silencing of the critics of this administration, the setting free of plunderers and drug lords, our modern-day Barabas, the violence and trash-talking against women, the instrumentalization of the lumads, and many others.

It is the most inconsistent of positions: to piously profess to follow Jesus to Calvary and to tell Pilate “crucify him”. We might as well change the marker on the cross – from “INRI” to “APHT”, from “Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudeourum” to “Addict, Pusher Huwag Tularan!”

Many already did… since June 2016. – Rappler.com

Fr. Danny Pilario CM is a professor and the present Dean of the St. Vincent School of Theology of Adamson University in Tandang Sora Avenue, Quezon City. He is also a guest minister at the Parokya ng Ina ng Lupang Pangako in Payatas, Quezon City. Fr. Pilario is a founding member and former president of the Catholic Theological Society of the Philippines, also known as DAKATEO or Damdaming Katoliko sa Teolohiya. You can email him at danielfranklinpilario@yahoo.com. On Facebook he is at facebook.com/danny.pilario.

Saint Mark retells the last hours of Jesus on the cross by simply telling us that a few minutes before Jesus breathed His last, the Lord said, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" Saint Mark's story of the passion and death is brief, direct, and forthright. It was as human as can be.

In this passion and death story written by Saint Mark, the last question of Jesus was "Why." He was begging for reasons.

"My God my God…I obeyed, you abandoned me. I proclaimed your greatness, you allowed me to be shamed. Father…I healed them in your name, you now leave me in great pain. I loved them as you loved me, now you leave me alone. I trusted them with the secrets of heaven, now you leave me naked, mocked, and laughed at. I called them friends not slaves, now I look like not even as slave but like a wretched worm."

Why, Father?

He heard no answer. He received no reason. He got no explanation. Jesus asked "Why" and his question was met with silence. No reply but just silence. This is the mystery of the Father's love.

Centuries later, Blaise Pascal will say, "The heart has reasons that reason does not know." Indeed that was what happened at Calvary. The logic of human reason failed to grasp the logic of the Father’s love.

Love is a mystery. Love is not illogical. Love is beyond logic. There was no reply even if there was much love.

Nineteen years before Calvary, when Jesus was only 12 years old, Saint Luke recorded the first word of Jesus in the Bible: "Why were you looking for me?"

His first word was "Why" like His last word was also "Why."

"Why were you looking for me? Were you afraid you lost me? Were you afraid to be punished for being negligent parents? Were you afraid I could have fallen into criminals' hands? Were you looking for me so I can give you the joy of having a child? When children lose parents they are called orphans; when parents lose an only child like me, there is no word to describe the loss. Were you afraid?"

'Lord, do you not care?'

As at Calvary, so was it in the temple when the Lord was 12. He received no answer from Mary and Joseph. His question was met with silence. Mary and Joseph could not understand.

The logic of human reason failed to grasp the logic of the Father's love. Love is a mystery. Love is not illogical. Love is beyond logic.

Lord, do you not care? Why are you not doing anything to help us? Why are you not saying anything if only to assure us? Why are you not doing anything to stop the killings and the stealing and the vulgarity? Why do you allow lies to fill the air, fake news to fill the minds of the gullible, and the innocent to continue to suffer? Why is evil winning and the honest enduring torture and shame? We pray and you do not answer?

Lord, are you deaf? Do you not care for us anymore? Are you punishing us? Are you really now tolerant of evil that we used to fight together?

Lord, why?

I do not know why. Lord, your love is a mystery. Lord, your love is not illogical; it is just too much to grasp.

I will not wait for any answer. On the cross you taught me to ask but not expect any answer. Love is a mystery.

You spoke to me today…the heart has reasons that reason cannot understand. – Rappler.com

Image from Shutterstock

Editor's Note: This piece was originally printed in "The Gospel of Love According to Juan/a" by Bishop Pablo Virgilio David and Nina Tomen, published by St Pauls Publishing in 2017. Rappler is publishing this piece with permission from Bishop David and St Pauls Publishing for Holy Week 2018.

My sister's daughter once made a scene that startled the churchgoers inside a church in Quezon City. 

She was just about 3 years old at the time, some 16 years ago now. She practically went hysterical, such that the parish priest came out of the confessional in order to check what the commotion was about. 

My sister was so embarrassed because the child was crying inconsolably, refusing to get out of the church unless her mother did something to "get Jesus down from the cross and bring him to the hospital."

Here's how it happened. My sister decided one day to drop by the Santo Domingo Church in Quezon City to pray. She had brought along her 3-year-old daughter. 

It was the little girl's first time to visit this church. She happened to be right at that age when kids turn inquisitive and begin to pester their parents with endless questions about most anything. 

"Mama…who is that?" she asked, pointing her finger at the image of the Crucified Christ. She had to ask the question a second time, tugging at her mama's skirt to get her attention. 

My sister was clutching her rosary with one hand and her bag with the other. Her eyes were shut as she mumbled her Hail Marys and fingered through the beads. "Huh, who?" she said as she turned her attention toward her daughter.

She was facing a smaller image of the Blessed Mother, but her daughter's big eyes were focused instead on the life-sized Jesus hanging on the cross in the background. "That's Jesus Christ, anak (child). You pray to him," she said to her.

The image apparently had seemed so lifelike to the little girl. "Mama, why is Jesus bleeding? Kawawa namansiya (How pitiful he is)!" she asked frantically. 

My sister hushed her and continued to pray her rosary, but the child was persistent. She was visibly agitated by what she was seeing. Now she was asking not just why Jesus was bleeding, but also why he was hanging up there on the cross. 

My sister said, "Not too loud, anak; your mama is praying. He's bleeding because some mean people beat him up and hurt him really bad and hung him up there to punish him."

Now the child became even more distraught. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she verbalized her indignation about how bad those people who had beaten up Jesus were. 

She said Jesus looked so pitiful and that he might need a doctor. "Mama, please let's bring Jesus to the hospital where you brought my kuya (elder brother) when he had an accident." 

She remembered how her mother reacted in panic when her older brother fell from his bicycle, got badly wounded on his forehead, and profusely bled. 

My sister lifted her daughter in her arms and assured her that Jesus was going to be okay. The little girl couldn't be consoled, so my sister started to walk out of the church in order to keep her daughter from causing any further disturbance. 

She cried out more loudly, refusing to leave the church. She spoke adamantly, and said, "Mama, please, let's help Jesus. Let's bring him down; let's bring him to the doctor." That was when the priest stepped out of the confessional and approached my sister and asked if anything was the matter.

My sister turned to pay her respects to the priest. She took his hand and pressed it on her forehead to get a blessing while her little girl continued to wail out loud. 

"I am sorry that we distracted you, Father. This is my 3-year-old daughter. She was looking at the crucifix and then started asking me to do something to get Jesus down from the cross and bring him to the hospital. She is concerned that Jesus is bleeding and badly hurt. Would you please help me explain to my little girl that she's just looking at a wooden statue, Father?" 

The priest smiled, held up the child's face by the chin, and wiped away her tears. He said: "How blessed you are, my little girl, to care so much for Jesus. He's up there on the cross because He loves you. Don't worry about him. I will get some medicine for his wounds. It is okay now, my child. I'll tell him you asked me to look after Him."

She was still whimpering as she glanced up at the crucifix, but the priest's words somehow calmed her down. My sister smiled gratefully at the priest and then told her daughter, "We'll go now, anak. Say thank you to Father and ask for a blessing from him." She dutifully took the priest's hand and pressed it on her forehead and said, "Thank you, Father." 

"Bye-bye, little girl. Jesus is going to be okay now, I promise," the priest said as he waved goodbye at my sister's daughter, who kept her tearful eyes fixed on the Crucified Jesus as her mother took her out of the church. – Rappler.com

Pressing for Freedom: Letters in the Field is originally published in BroadAgenda, the official website of the 50/50 by 2030 Foundation. The series is simultaneously published in Malaysiakini (Malaysia).

Introduction

Nicole Curato

We are in trouble because press freedom in Southeast Asia is on the decline. A political commentator was shot dead in broad daylight in Cambodia. Nations are ruled by strongmen who openly declared journalists as enemies. Media organizations are shut down and journalists are arrested based on obscure legal justifications. There is no need to be alarmist, but we are in trouble.

We know what will happen if things do not get better. If the press is not free, power is left unchecked. If our journalists are silenced, the value of truth-telling is diminished.

But there is no need to be alarmed. On International Women’s Month, we at BroadAgenda put together a series of letters from the field, written by the region’s most insightful journalists.

These women’s message is simple: We’ve got this.

This series features 6 letters from Malaysiakini’s Annabelle Lee (Malaysia), Rappler’s Pia Ranada (Philippines), Prachatai Online’s Thaweeporn Kummetha (Thailand), Thai PBS’s Hathairat Phaholtap (Thailand), and freelance journalists Amanda Tazkia Siddharta and Febriana Firdaus (Indonesia).

Each letter tells stories of overt intimidation and subtle forms of silencing. The gendered dimension of these stories could not be more pronounced. In this series, we will read stories of powerful men ignoring questions from female journalists, military officers instilling fear in inquisitive reporters, religious fundamentalists declaring one an infidel for covering LGBT issues, and a sexist head of state banning a young journalist from coverage.

The letters are written by female journalists for female journalists, although these messages are also for anyone who cares about democratic politics.

We are reviving the art of letter writing because we believe in the subversive power of deeply personal reflections. They soothe anxieties in dark times. They inspire willfulness when it is time to act. They are reminders that the pressing for freedom is a collective yet deeply personal fight. 

I learned a lot reading these letters. I learned that self-doubt is common, but quitting is not an option. I learned the power of women from different newsrooms coming together to demand answers when they are ignored. I learned that despots feel threatened by women who refuse to back off.

To all women fighting for press freedom, don’t let tyrants grind you down. We know they won’t win.

Nicole Curato (@NicoleCurato) is BroadAgenda’s guest editor for March. She is a senior research fellow at the Centre for Deliberative Democracy and Global Governance at the University of Canberra and holds Australian Research Council’s Discovery Early Career Research Fellowship for her work on democratic innovations in sensitive political contexts.

Freedom from self-censorship

Annabelle Lee | Malaysia

Hi there,

My name is Annabelle, and this March marks my first year as a journalist.

I work at one of the few independent newsrooms in Malaysia, a country ranked 144th out of 180 for press freedom last year (North Korea polled 180), where “mainstream media” is made up of mastheads owned by political parties that form the federal government.

When I began, I was repeatedly warned that I would be barred from events because of the supposedly “anti-government” organization I represent. I was also told to be prepared for catcalls and sexual innuendoes by virtue of being a woman in the “dirty” field of political reporting.

When an article revealed that male politicians sexually harassed some of my female colleagues, to my horror, our journalist union chief’s advice to female journalists was to not dress “sexy.” 

“That’s just how things are,” I was told. Welcome to journalism.  

I was “lucky” when allowed into events I was assigned to cover. On more than one occasion, I merely smiled when inappropriate remarks were directed at me. 

I would love to say I was unfazed by all this, but the truth is I was constantly considering self-censorship.

This negotiation was tiring and, frankly, suffocating. It distracted me from pursuing the truth and held me back from holding those in power accountable. 

It wasn't until I shared my frustrations with other women in the field when I stopped worrying so much. 

Despite being from different newsrooms, experienced female journalists encouraged me to press harder for answers when I considered holding back. They assured me that if anyone at work was inappropriate towards me, they would stand in solidarity as I reported it. Often, when on assignment together, we would work as a team to try and shake answers out from the powers that be. 

I found a lot of comfort and strength in them. They became my mentors and friends. 

Today, I don't feel like I am negotiating press freedom as an individual anymore. We are a tribe, and we are fighting both battles together – for press freedom and against a deeply patriarchal culture. 

This International Women’s Day, my hope is that women work together to record history through journalism. Journalism needs to prove that it can be a trusted and relevant source of information at a time when "truth" is an increasingly contested concept.

And as Malaysia decides her 14th government this year, I urge my colleagues to band together as we push to deliver truth to the people. 

In solidarity,
Annabelle

Annabelle Lee (@annabellybutton) is a journalist at Malaysiakini.com. She writes about current affairs and politics.

Freedom from self-censorship

Amanda Siddharta | Indonesia

Dear colleagues,

Have you ever stopped and wondered, as I have, if things could be different?

Can you imagine a situation where the places we live aren’t plagued by sinister attempts to silence us, where journalists aren’t being charged with espionage, where governments do not shut down independent news outlets for being critical?

Press freedom is under attack in ASEAN. This is the very reason why we need brave women like you.

At a time when fake news flood our Twitter feeds, the public relies on us to expose harsh social realities. Human rights violations, persecution of minorities, and climate change are issues of a global scale that demand action from our leaders. But these leaders are often too busy making or invoking laws that curtail our freedom to tell stories that move people to action. 

But we try anyway. We know that integrity and fair reporting are critical not only to sustain a functioning democracy but also to ensure a just future.

I can only imagine how you go to great lengths in a profession that is often described as a calling. I know a lot of you went to the field, with your best foot forward, ready to face the risk of being harassed, attacked, or threatened with death. I know this because I see the passion in your writing. I know this because I have seen your confidence in pursuing a story, despite the limits imposed by the boys’ club of journalism. 

Every attempt to rob us of our voice is a poignant reminder that we must stand together. We will be relentless in our pursuit of facts and commitment to ethical reporting. I know that you will, because you are all the very definition of courage.

I hope you, my sisters in journalism, do not ever doubt yourself. In difficult moments, know that we are here to support each other. All the sacrifice you have made in the name of freedom of speech will not be in vain. Your fight will be fruitful.

Yours sincerely,
Amanda Siddharta

Amanda Siddharta (@AmandaSiddharta) is a freelance journalist. She writes for a wide range of media, including the South China Morning Post and Reporting ASEAN.

To bring truth is to bring peace

Hathariat (Wist) Phaholtap | Thailand

Dear colleagues,

My goal in being a reporter is to promote peace.

I have been covering stories of violence in Thailand’s Deep South for 5 years. I have grown tired and frustrated with what I have witnessed, but a story of a young woman, Khurosmor Tuwaebuecha, kept me going.

Khurosmor lost her husband, Abduldayib Dolah, in December 2015. A military group in the Pattani province detained him for they thought he was a member of the Runda Kumplan Kecilm, a militant Islamic insurgent group. He died after 26 days in detention. Khurosmor believes he was tortured.

I personally talked to Khurosmor on August 15, 2016. I met her 3 children, all of them in primary school age. She was also looking after her brother’s children – two boys – after he disappeared while under military custody.

One can only imagine the fear and pain she was experiencing. But Khurosmor had the resolve to act and decided to sue the army. She lost in her first court case, but did not lose hope. She filed an appeal. Her family, she said, deserves justice.

As a journalist, I considered this story of prime importance. Hers is a story not of a victim, but of someone who fights even when the odds are stacked against her.

I did further research and found reports documenting over 60 people who had fallen victim to torture and human rights violations in Southern Thailand. Human rights groups documented cases of suffocation using a plastic bag and strangulation, among others. More than 6,000 people were under custody, justified under Thailand’s state of emergency laws.

I sought the side of a military spokesperson and the secretary general of the Southern Border Provinces Administrative Center. They denied the allegations of torture. They told me I got the wrong information, especially on torture. They told me not to report my story.

Their reaction was predictable. Politely, I told them I would like to help bring peace to the Deep South by doing my job as a journalist. 

Inspired by Khurosmor’s courage, I continued investigating these cases. I read reports of Amnesty International, among others, and learned that the use of torture takes place in our neighboring countries, including Vietnam and the Philippines.

After writing the script and completing the shoot, I sent my package to the organization that commissioned my work. They told me to reconsider my story, perhaps change my script. They discouraged me from broadcasting my report for it portrayed a negative view of Thailand before the international community. I rejected this request. Media organizations are not public relations companies. 

On August 28-29, 2016, my story went on air in the evening news program on Thai PBS.

I share this story with you because I think we share similar problems of violence, intimidation, and suppression of speech. But we know we cannot solve a problem by hiding facts. Violence, whether it is in Thailand’s Deep South or the Philippines’ secret detention facilities, cannot be eradicated without the press reporting these atrocities.

To bring truth is to bring peace.

Yours in solidarity,
Hathariat (Wist) Phaholtap

Hathairat (Wist) Phaholtap (@Hathai_Thai PBS) is a journalist for Thai PBS. She is best known for her work on human rights in Thailand. 

To give up is unthinkable

Pia Ranada | Philippines

Hi,

I am Pia Ranada, a reporter for Rappler, a news website based in Manila. For almost two years now, I’ve been covering Malacañang and President Rodrigo Duterte.

In February, I was barred by the President from entering Malacañang, the Philippines’ Presidential Palace. A month before that, the government decided to revoke my company’s license to operate.

All this has happened in an environment of hostility toward a free and critical press. For as long as I’ve been covering President Duterte, I have been receiving death threats, rape threats, and verbal abuse in varying degrees of offensiveness from supporters of the President. 

These online hate messages are complemented by insults, false claims, and thinly-veiled threats from President Duterte and other officials in Malacañang. The head of the presidential guard once told me I should have been thankful that one of his guards did not hurt me while I was pressing him for more details about the President’s order to ban me from entering the Palace.

I can take all the other attacks, but this ban from covering Malacañang has affected my work as a journalist. I can’t ask questions during press conferences in person. I can’t report from the actual event of interest. I have limited access to sources of information.

But to give up is unthinkable.

I live in a society where a charismatic president is weakening democratic institutions. The critical press cannot afford to be cowed. We need to keep writing. We need to keep asking questions. We need to keep government on its toes.

What keeps me going are words of support and encouragement from complete strangers. They take the time to approach me and let me know they appreciate what we are doing. Some are scared to openly support us because of what might happen to their media company or to their jobs. This gives me more of a reason to keep reporting.

We need to be strong for people who can’t be.

Yours,
Pia Ranada

Pia Ranada (@piaranada) covers President Rodrigo Duterte for Rappler.com.

The duty to overcome fear

Thaweeporn (Am) Kummetha | Thailand

Dear fellow human rights defenders,

I know you are discouraged and tired. We are in the era of de-democratization, where once prosperous democracies are now under the rule of authoritarian leaders. 

This is very true for Southeast Asia. Threats to human rights and press freedom come from many sources – from authoritarian regimes to corporations to religious fundamentalists. 

I know you need encouragement. So do I. Here’s my proposal: how about we get reacquainted with our younger selves to remember why we do what we do today?   

My passion for seeing an equal, free, and peaceful Thai society has been the driving force for my career in journalism. Inspired by John Stuart Mill’s Marketplace of Ideas when I was 20, I started to question the society where I grew up. I questioned the harsh sentences of the lèse-majesté law, which had been mainly used to silence pro-democracy advocates in Thailand. These injustices inspired me to campaign for freedom of expression.

At 25, I quit a well-paid, secure job for a lower-paid, less secure job at Prachatai, an independent news organization renowned for its commitment to human rights. I reported about people who are harassed, arrested, and facing charges because they spoke up against authorities.

Journalism, I believe, not only creates awareness but also pushes the boundaries of what cannot be said in this society. Our work speaks to the international community so that the problem Thailand faces would not go unnoticed.

But there are moments when I feel that my work had zero impact. Thailand experienced its 12th coup d’état in 2014. More people were arrested for their political expression in its immediate aftermath.  

Three years ago, I became a subject of military harassment. The military persistently intimidated my parents and threatened to file a charge against me for disobeying the military and violating the lèse-majesté law. Even when I lived in the United Kingdom for my master’s degree, the military kept harassing my parents until early 2017.

I felt nervous after the incident. I censored myself for a couple of years to avoid trouble. It did not only affect my career but affected me on a personal level. I questioned my life goals. I paused to think whether my career in journalism was worth pursuing.

But quitting is not an option. We have a duty to overcome fear.

Military men’s intimidation of female journalists will be successful if I fail to overcome my worries and self-doubt. Quitting fails my younger, passionate self.

It is okay to feel intimidated and discouraged, but we should not let that fear overshadow us for too long. We still have a long way to go in the fight for press freedom.

In solidarity,
Thaweeporn (Am) Kummetha 

Thaweeporn (Am) Kummetha is a journalist at Prachatai.com/English. She is best known for her work on Thailand’s southern violent conflict.

Journalism is my religion

Febriana Firdaus | Indonesia

To my sisters in journalism,

We all know that journalism is a thankless job.

Journalists are expected to bear witness to the most important stories of the day, but when we report on uncomfortable issues – whether it is human rights violations, ultra-nationalism, or religious bigotry – we are on the receiving end of harsh criticism.

I’m sure you have your own stories about this. Here are some of mine.

I was once called an infidel for writing a story about the LGBT crackdown in Indonesia. Why would a hijab-wearing Muslim journalist defend the LGBT community? LGBTs are haram, I was told.

When I wrote about the 1965 massacre in Indonesia – one of the country’s darkest moments – I received death threats online from the followers of Islamic Defender Front. I was accused of being a neo-communist, which compromised my safety. I had no choice but take a couple of months off from my work. 

These experiences are not unique to me. One of my colleagues has got it worse, when, after criticizing a Muslim cleric, she was bullied by the “Muslim cyber-army” and left with no choice but to resign.

Outside Indonesia, we hear stories of religious fundamentalism that compromise press freedom. Our colleagues from Myanmar – Wa Lone, 31, and Kyaw Soe Oo, 27 – have been accused of breaching the country’s Official Secrets Act, a little-used law from colonial rule, after reporting the crisis that erupted in Rakhine State. 

Of course, I don’t believe that religion is the issue. The issue is when religion is used by autocrats and self-interested politicians as a political tool. 

In times like this, we need inspiration. I take mine from Andreas Harsono, who declared, “My religion is journalism.”  If we adhere to journalism’s code of ethics, we have nothing to fear.

Chasing the truth, being skeptical with any and all groups, exposing oppression, giving voice to the voiceless – all these are part of our commitment to truth-telling.

And to tell these stories is both a right and a privilege. It is a right because citizens are entitled to receive information. But it is also a privilege for us journalists to be the messengers of stories of fundamental value.

A senior colleague told me that there is no story that is worth staking our lives for. There are more stories to tell, and we could not do this if we are burnt out. So, take a rest and pace ourselves. Let’s look after each other. And we keep pushing on.

Sincerely, 
Febriana

Febriana Firdaus has been working as an investigative journalist in Indonesia for 10 years. Her work has been published in Tempo, Rappler Indonesia, TIME, BBC Indonesia, Jakarta Post, Vice Indonesia, The Interpreter, Lowy Institute, New Mandala, and DW Indonesia, among others. 

– Rappler.com