I ENTERED the city and saw a place quite undisturbed. The calm before the storm, or the visitation. It is Thursday and, in the afternoon, Pope Francis arrives.
The preparations had been underway for months and the tediousness of the rehearsal and dry-runs and run-throughs have been fastidious. The military and the police alertness are unprecedented, if one is to believe the releases. The city authorities have gone full steam as to order its men to stay in their place, not to selfies and be really selfless for a day.
This is a day for heroes and heroism. All for the pope, who is now known as the People’s Pope.
This is the third time that a pope is coming to the country. The first time, there was a dictatorship. A cardinal whose family name is Sin was still alive The Holy Father was arriving at a country ruled by dictators. Martial law, which was in existence for decades, was lifted, Sort of. The so-called conjugal dictator built a palace. The Coconut Palace it was called. The material was coconut and the name sounded like royal animals would be dwelling in it. The astute visitor realized the bait and opted to snob the place. If he had stayed there, that action would have been interpreted as condoning and not the condemning that Catholics then were looking forward to.
The Coconut Palace has since been appropriated as the office of the Vice- President of the Republic.
The next time the same pope visited the country, it was World Youth Day. It was a festival, with the pope at the leading actor. He was a hit. The youths of the world were fantastic. The Filipino youths were at the center of the world for several days.
Now that pope is a saint.
As our bus moved into the city, everyone was wary that somewhere, roadblocks would stop us to get to our homes. But the city was eerily calm.
When I got home, I opened the TV to the free channel and caught newscasters and program hosts dressed in native attires. The word “native” is such an artifice in this land it is something we wear and take off. For today, as early as 7 in the morning, the TV programs are all keyed up for the arrival of the visitor.
We are at our best exterior-wise. The Filipinoness of our identity is brandished like a gleaming sword. It is scary. It is frightening when we for a day or moment claim our identity. It is so artificial and it is so dangerous.
In another program, a series of Catholic songs are being sung. The hosts flash their sweetest smiles. One glibly comments how we are so blessed this Thursday.
This Thursday, as I write this column, we are all good people.
We are a claiming bunch. We claim blessings as if they are cookies pre-ordered. Like the free SMS in a prepaid cards.
The singer of what is now called the theme song of the visit is asked what she will do if she gets to meet the pope. Enthusiastically, she responds: “Mag bi-bless ako.” Language is power. Language can be sinister. It is interesting that when we ask for blessing, we use terms that put the action in reverse. It appears that we are the ones giving the blessing.
On TV also guidelines are announced as to how we can conduct ourselves during the next three or four days. Oddly enough but not that odd, one of the “gentle reminders” is how to participate in the Mass. We are told to really be part of the Mass. We know where these guidelines are coming from. In churches where a clique of a choir exists, the community cannot participate as the singers go into vocal exercises. We Filipinos know how we go to the Mass.
In grade school, I used to be baffled by these words on the Missal: “Do not pray in the Mass; Pray the Mass.”
We have our own businesses in the church and the Mass sometimes becomes a mere site, a background to our own purposes. So, for this visit, let us be more Catholic in the Mass.
The gentle reminders include warning on littering. This is a giveaway of who we are. We throw our dirt and our trash anywhere. So, for the visit of the Pope, let us be clean. That is the subtext of the reminders that need to be prefaced as gentle.
There is also in the reminder a note on traffic. The words call our attention to places where vehicles are not allowed. Which is again strange because on ordinary days, whether we like it or not, there are places in the city where vehicles and people cannot go because of traffic.
Gently, the reminder asks us to observe traffic rules. So, for the duration of the visitation, the Filipino, at least in Metro Manila, will heed the rules on the use of the street.
As I end this column, the voice over television still trails: “We are all God’s children/We are all the same.”
I am tempted to sing: “We are all God’s children/We are not the same.”
It is Thursday and more than ever, inequality, poverty and pretentiousness shine like colors of a rainbow across the visiting sky.
Tito Genova Valiente can be reached via titovaliente@yahoo.com
Image credits: Jimbo Albano