Nakapanlulumo.
Ang pagkitil ng kalayaan sa
paanan ng tulay na ngayo'y
ipinangalan sa isang dakilang
mandirigma para sa kalayaan pero
noo'y kilala lamang sa isang salita--
Mendiola.
Nakakagalit!
Ang walang patumanggang karahasan
na sumalubong sa daan-daang
magbubukid na nagmartsa patungo
sa paanan ng tulay na noo'y kilala lamang
sa isang pangalan--Mendiola.
Nakakaiyak.
Ang daan-daang sugatan at ang
13 patay sa paanan ng tulay--
na syang sagisag at naging simbolo
ng lahat ng kalayaan na nakamit
matapos mapatumba
ang diktadura--ng Mendiola.
Nakakalimutan.
Enero 22, 1987.
13 patay, higit isandaan sugatan,
sa duguang kamay ng isang
pamahalaang itinayo at itinatag sa
pangako ng kalayaan at katarungan,
sa paanan ng tulay ng Mendiola.
Enero 22, 1987.
Masaker ng kalayaan at katarungan
sa paanan ng tulay ng Mendiola.
January 21, 2008
Deleting history
Seen on a shirt: "Itanong mo sa akin ano ang maganda sa Pilipinas?" (front) "Gloria, resign!" (back)
---------------
Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo says now that there is no reason to celebrate EDSA Dos and orders that no celebrations be held because she wants to heal the hurts. Just like that. EDSA Dos officially enters the dustbin of history.
Never mind that it was actually the first successful coup d'etat in Philippine history.
Never mind that when it was happening, Gloria and her minions asked the people to flex their power to support her.
Never mind that it was because of EDSA Dos that she was catapulted to power.
Never mind all that, mind only that she now says it shouldn't be celebrated or remembered.
It is as if by saying that, she can delete history and make us forget.
But, no, we will not forget how Gloria came to power, on the wings of a coup; and, no, we will not forget how Gloria maintained power, on the wings of fraud.
Though you delete history, we will not forget and we will not let you forget.
---------------
Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo says now that there is no reason to celebrate EDSA Dos and orders that no celebrations be held because she wants to heal the hurts. Just like that. EDSA Dos officially enters the dustbin of history.
Never mind that it was actually the first successful coup d'etat in Philippine history.
Never mind that when it was happening, Gloria and her minions asked the people to flex their power to support her.
Never mind that it was because of EDSA Dos that she was catapulted to power.
Never mind all that, mind only that she now says it shouldn't be celebrated or remembered.
It is as if by saying that, she can delete history and make us forget.
But, no, we will not forget how Gloria came to power, on the wings of a coup; and, no, we will not forget how Gloria maintained power, on the wings of fraud.
Though you delete history, we will not forget and we will not let you forget.
January 15, 2008
Questions I find myself asking . . .
1. What do you call an ELEVATOR when it is going down?
2. What do you call an ESCALATOR when it is going down?
3. If you only have one leg, do you wear PANT or still pants?
4. If you only have one eye, do you wear A GLASS or still glasses?
5. If there is only one item, is it NEW or still news?
Wala lang, naisip ko lang.
2. What do you call an ESCALATOR when it is going down?
3. If you only have one leg, do you wear PANT or still pants?
4. If you only have one eye, do you wear A GLASS or still glasses?
5. If there is only one item, is it NEW or still news?
Wala lang, naisip ko lang.
Fr. Honti, S.J.
Good news travels fast, bad news even faster.
While at a meeting, I got texts trying to confirm if it was true that Fr. Eddie Hontiveros, S.J., Father of Philippine Liturgical Music, passed away today. I replied that I hadn't heard; since there was wifi at the place, I did what I usually do when I need news--google. I managed to confirm that, yes, Fr. Hontiveros had passed away. Here is the link to his obit.
I never got to know him personally but growing up, literally with his songs while serving at 6 am mass in high school and later on listening to his "classics" amidst the more contemporary Jesuit music, it seemed like I, and countless others who prayed to his music, knew him very well indeed. His songs had sing-ability, which counted for the great mass appeal and the easy recall; his lyrics, however, were also quite spectacular. His Filipino was very elegant and I can say I, literally, learned how to pray in Filipino because of Fr. Honti.
He will be missed but this much I know, his songs will continue to fill many a church and many a heart--bringing the faithful so much closer to God each time.
While at a meeting, I got texts trying to confirm if it was true that Fr. Eddie Hontiveros, S.J., Father of Philippine Liturgical Music, passed away today. I replied that I hadn't heard; since there was wifi at the place, I did what I usually do when I need news--google. I managed to confirm that, yes, Fr. Hontiveros had passed away. Here is the link to his obit.
I never got to know him personally but growing up, literally with his songs while serving at 6 am mass in high school and later on listening to his "classics" amidst the more contemporary Jesuit music, it seemed like I, and countless others who prayed to his music, knew him very well indeed. His songs had sing-ability, which counted for the great mass appeal and the easy recall; his lyrics, however, were also quite spectacular. His Filipino was very elegant and I can say I, literally, learned how to pray in Filipino because of Fr. Honti.
He will be missed but this much I know, his songs will continue to fill many a church and many a heart--bringing the faithful so much closer to God each time.
January 10, 2008
Kulang Kung Wala Sila
UP kicked off its centennial celebration on January 8 with a 100-torch relay (that's including Richard Gomez) led by a 100 year old engineer (who sounds less senile than a lot of younger alumni and who displays a great wit and sense of humor in thinking that he could hook up with his classmates; LOL), sky divers, 100 kwitis salute, bogas thundering, the lighting of 100 acacia trees and the lighting of the centennial cauldron (shades of HP and the Goblet of Fire, he he he). The night was capped by a concert led by Ryan Cayabyab and various bands and a 15 or so minute fireworks display (courtesy of Beta Epsilon).
Astig! Galing! Kewl! Pero, may kulang . . .
Since the centennial preparations kicked off, I'd been thinking about this (and apparently I wasn't alone)-- it would be a really great idea to have the most famous luntian at pula band play. Of course, anyone who has been to UP or has lived within the last twenty or so years knows that I'm referring to the 'Heads, the Eraserheads, to be exact--Ely, Marcus, Raimund and Buddy. The only hitch was that they had disbanded some time back and had gone on to individual pursuits (all of them with their own bands; some producing, all still writing music).
While we were waiting for the centennial cauldron to be lit, I was expressing that hope to the law school staff-- it would have been awesome had the boys been asked to play again, maybe for one last gig--the first and probably the last! It would have been similar to a Beatles reunion. But as the night wore on, it was not to be; I don't know if it was because no one from the centennial preparations team thought of it (or had even heard of the 'Heads) or maybe if they had thought of it, they couldn't get them together, or had lost their numbers in their rolodexes or what. But, hey, they got a 100 year old graduate to come and run the torch relay; they even got Richard Gomez to light a torch (how bogus is that?). Of course, they could get the boys back together again--for U.P., if not for anything else?
Jam is right--it would have been perfect as the kick off--for the 'Heads to sing their songs that are full of UP flavor; it would also have been a perfect tribute to a band that managed to blow the lid off the local band scene at that time and influence the local band scene for generations to come.
I remember watching them at Red Rocks (along Scout Tobias), later to become Club Dredd, when they were really struggling; barely able to play but already armed with the charm that was to become their signature. Ely's songs were already unmistakeable and the attitude was totally radical. It didn't matter then that they weren't the best musicians in the planet or that Ely wasn't the best singer, it mattered only that they were singing about things they knew in a manner that they knew about. That was what the 'Heads brought into the scene; and, of course, we (who were then following them) were proud to say, "UP 'yan!"
Listen to any of the local bands that came after them and catch the hooks of the "heads in their songs; watch the bands and see the attitude that these four put on.
The centennial tag line is "UP, ang galing mo!" Very apt indeed for the boys who simply wanted to play and sing their own songs, reflective of countless generations of iskolar ng bayan who simply forged ahead, fueled by their dreams of making a difference for their country and their people and, in the process, making an impact, influencing lives, thought and action by simply being who they were trained to be: UP graduates.
The centennial celebrations just kicked off, so there still is time.
Let me be the first to ask for it then in writing--BRING THE BOYS BACK!!! Let's have the Eraserheads reunite for one last gig (proceeds to go to endowment for the Narra residence hall restoration, he he he; Dan Calica, are you reading this? Popo Lotilla? Pete Abinales?)
Maybe Jam or others who know the 'Heads, wherever they are, can circulate this until it reaches them.
One more gig! Sa harap ni Oble--promise, ipasasara natin ang U Av at ipapasuspindi ng maaga ni Chancellor (kung sino man ang Chancellor ng Diliman sa pagtatapos ng centennial year) ang klase nang makakuha ng magandang pwesto--sabay sabay nating kantahin ang 'Pare Ko--kasama ang mura. At baka pwede nyo rin kantahin ang UP Naming Mahal--pero walang mura.
Astig! Galing! Kewl! Pero, may kulang . . .
Since the centennial preparations kicked off, I'd been thinking about this (and apparently I wasn't alone)-- it would be a really great idea to have the most famous luntian at pula band play. Of course, anyone who has been to UP or has lived within the last twenty or so years knows that I'm referring to the 'Heads, the Eraserheads, to be exact--Ely, Marcus, Raimund and Buddy. The only hitch was that they had disbanded some time back and had gone on to individual pursuits (all of them with their own bands; some producing, all still writing music).
While we were waiting for the centennial cauldron to be lit, I was expressing that hope to the law school staff-- it would have been awesome had the boys been asked to play again, maybe for one last gig--the first and probably the last! It would have been similar to a Beatles reunion. But as the night wore on, it was not to be; I don't know if it was because no one from the centennial preparations team thought of it (or had even heard of the 'Heads) or maybe if they had thought of it, they couldn't get them together, or had lost their numbers in their rolodexes or what. But, hey, they got a 100 year old graduate to come and run the torch relay; they even got Richard Gomez to light a torch (how bogus is that?). Of course, they could get the boys back together again--for U.P., if not for anything else?
Jam is right--it would have been perfect as the kick off--for the 'Heads to sing their songs that are full of UP flavor; it would also have been a perfect tribute to a band that managed to blow the lid off the local band scene at that time and influence the local band scene for generations to come.
I remember watching them at Red Rocks (along Scout Tobias), later to become Club Dredd, when they were really struggling; barely able to play but already armed with the charm that was to become their signature. Ely's songs were already unmistakeable and the attitude was totally radical. It didn't matter then that they weren't the best musicians in the planet or that Ely wasn't the best singer, it mattered only that they were singing about things they knew in a manner that they knew about. That was what the 'Heads brought into the scene; and, of course, we (who were then following them) were proud to say, "UP 'yan!"
Listen to any of the local bands that came after them and catch the hooks of the "heads in their songs; watch the bands and see the attitude that these four put on.
The centennial tag line is "UP, ang galing mo!" Very apt indeed for the boys who simply wanted to play and sing their own songs, reflective of countless generations of iskolar ng bayan who simply forged ahead, fueled by their dreams of making a difference for their country and their people and, in the process, making an impact, influencing lives, thought and action by simply being who they were trained to be: UP graduates.
The centennial celebrations just kicked off, so there still is time.
Let me be the first to ask for it then in writing--BRING THE BOYS BACK!!! Let's have the Eraserheads reunite for one last gig (proceeds to go to endowment for the Narra residence hall restoration, he he he; Dan Calica, are you reading this? Popo Lotilla? Pete Abinales?)
Maybe Jam or others who know the 'Heads, wherever they are, can circulate this until it reaches them.
One more gig! Sa harap ni Oble--promise, ipasasara natin ang U Av at ipapasuspindi ng maaga ni Chancellor (kung sino man ang Chancellor ng Diliman sa pagtatapos ng centennial year) ang klase nang makakuha ng magandang pwesto--sabay sabay nating kantahin ang 'Pare Ko--kasama ang mura. At baka pwede nyo rin kantahin ang UP Naming Mahal--pero walang mura.
January 08, 2008
Giving 5.0s (a reply of sorts to Jobert Navallo)
A former student of mine (Crim Law 1, first year) Jobert Navallo blogged about this in his blog (and it was reprinted in PDI's Youngblood today); this, referring to getting a failing grade in law school. The big five dot zero.
I read Jobert's post with great interest because, of course, I know him--having been his professor in crim law--and also because it was a brave post--because the professor might still be his professor in the very same subject next year. For the civilians (read: non UP law students), getting a 5.0 and writing about it might not seem like too much of a big deal but if you've been following events in THE law school (for the ateneans and the other law schools, sorry
) in this blog and others related to it, you will realize that it is not easy to write about law school especially when you do not mince words. My posts on the deanship selection have grown legs while my rants on frat violence have taken on separate lives in cyberspace. It is in this context that I say that Jobert's post is quite brave; it also has the feature of being very well-written and also very sincere--from the gut (as I texted someone).
I never got a 5.0 in law school so I cannot relate to Jobert's experience--not to say that my grades were all extremely high though. I have, however, given 5.0s and it is not an easy experience--until now, I find it extremely difficult--actually painful--to do.
The very first five I gave was during my second year of teaching to someone who never showed up in class and when he did, answered so unintelligibly that he could have been speaking in a foreign language. In his finals, his answers were the written equivalent of grunts--such was the brevity and the paucity of the answers. To my knowledge, he never made it beyond first year, at least in U.P.; he may have gone to some other law school though and may be grunting his way through law practice for all I know. Even then, it was difficult for me to give a 5.0 but no amount of massaging the raw scores could bring the grade to a 4.0 or even a 3.0.
You would have expected that, after the first five, it would become easier. It has not. For my students who read this blog, it may sound difficult to believe but giving a 5.0 has not become easier for me, but harder. But unfortunately, I have given many 5.0s since that time, each one being more difficult than the previous.
The staff at the Secretary's Office know this: when I give my grade sheets, all the grades are filled in except for those who fall below 3.0; and I take time before I decide to circle in the 5.0. Many times, I've recomputed on the spot; rechecked, redistributed points in the hope that 1 or 2 more points could help. But many times also, these efforts prove fruitless. And so, despite the difficulty, I am left with no choice but to give the 5.0.
I do not know about other professors but it pains me to give a 5.0 to someone because to me, it signifies a total disconnect between myself and that person. I see it as a failure on my part to bring across a point which the others in the class were able to see; a failure to move someone to read more, study more, read more carefully, think better, think more critically. Many times, the chore of correcting blue books becomes even more difficult when you read from the answers given a clear disconnect, a failure of minds to meet, an absence of that confluence of thoughts from teacher to student. That 5.0, to me, represents one more aspect of failure: mine.
It may be small comfort to those who have failed subjects under me or to Jobert, who failed his nego class. But Jobert is right, there is life after a 5.0; many times, that 5.0 is a reality check. Many have left law school after a 5.0 convinced that it is only passion that they have and not skill; others have struggled through after a 5.0 borne by the passion that the day will not be lost at the hands of "such as you"; others have continued in law school and even excelled after a 5.0, convinced that whatever does not kill you, at first, can only make you stronger.
It is like Kingsfield in The Paper Chase telling Hart, who tells him to his face, "Kingsfield, you are a son of a bitch", to "sit down, Mr. Hart, that is the most intelligent thing you have ever said in this class." In his blog, Jobert resolved to not only confront his Kingsfield but conquer it. That is an admirable quality. Whether he succeeds or not, often it is enough that he tries.
I read Jobert's post with great interest because, of course, I know him--having been his professor in crim law--and also because it was a brave post--because the professor might still be his professor in the very same subject next year. For the civilians (read: non UP law students), getting a 5.0 and writing about it might not seem like too much of a big deal but if you've been following events in THE law school (for the ateneans and the other law schools, sorry
) in this blog and others related to it, you will realize that it is not easy to write about law school especially when you do not mince words. My posts on the deanship selection have grown legs while my rants on frat violence have taken on separate lives in cyberspace. It is in this context that I say that Jobert's post is quite brave; it also has the feature of being very well-written and also very sincere--from the gut (as I texted someone).I never got a 5.0 in law school so I cannot relate to Jobert's experience--not to say that my grades were all extremely high though. I have, however, given 5.0s and it is not an easy experience--until now, I find it extremely difficult--actually painful--to do.
The very first five I gave was during my second year of teaching to someone who never showed up in class and when he did, answered so unintelligibly that he could have been speaking in a foreign language. In his finals, his answers were the written equivalent of grunts--such was the brevity and the paucity of the answers. To my knowledge, he never made it beyond first year, at least in U.P.; he may have gone to some other law school though and may be grunting his way through law practice for all I know. Even then, it was difficult for me to give a 5.0 but no amount of massaging the raw scores could bring the grade to a 4.0 or even a 3.0.
You would have expected that, after the first five, it would become easier. It has not. For my students who read this blog, it may sound difficult to believe but giving a 5.0 has not become easier for me, but harder. But unfortunately, I have given many 5.0s since that time, each one being more difficult than the previous.
The staff at the Secretary's Office know this: when I give my grade sheets, all the grades are filled in except for those who fall below 3.0; and I take time before I decide to circle in the 5.0. Many times, I've recomputed on the spot; rechecked, redistributed points in the hope that 1 or 2 more points could help. But many times also, these efforts prove fruitless. And so, despite the difficulty, I am left with no choice but to give the 5.0.
I do not know about other professors but it pains me to give a 5.0 to someone because to me, it signifies a total disconnect between myself and that person. I see it as a failure on my part to bring across a point which the others in the class were able to see; a failure to move someone to read more, study more, read more carefully, think better, think more critically. Many times, the chore of correcting blue books becomes even more difficult when you read from the answers given a clear disconnect, a failure of minds to meet, an absence of that confluence of thoughts from teacher to student. That 5.0, to me, represents one more aspect of failure: mine.
It may be small comfort to those who have failed subjects under me or to Jobert, who failed his nego class. But Jobert is right, there is life after a 5.0; many times, that 5.0 is a reality check. Many have left law school after a 5.0 convinced that it is only passion that they have and not skill; others have struggled through after a 5.0 borne by the passion that the day will not be lost at the hands of "such as you"; others have continued in law school and even excelled after a 5.0, convinced that whatever does not kill you, at first, can only make you stronger.
It is like Kingsfield in The Paper Chase telling Hart, who tells him to his face, "Kingsfield, you are a son of a bitch", to "sit down, Mr. Hart, that is the most intelligent thing you have ever said in this class." In his blog, Jobert resolved to not only confront his Kingsfield but conquer it. That is an admirable quality. Whether he succeeds or not, often it is enough that he tries.
January 03, 2008
shake rattle and laugh your head off
Every year, I try to catch one (or more) of the films in the annual (and mandatory) Metro Manila Film Festival. My pick is usually the quirkiest, the fun-nest (not necessarily the funniest) or arguably the best of the lot. If an Enteng Kabisote is around, I usually go for that--not because I'm a big fan of Vic Sotto but because he makes one movie a year and he usually prepares for it well.
This year, Enteng Kabisote was around but I chose to watch Shake Rattle and Roll IX instead.
It is so bad that it makes the phrase "guilty pleasure" seem so inadequate. It is the typical Regal movie where a smorgasbord of people in the film industry (Lovi Poe, for instance) and a smattering of actors (Gina Alajar, for instance) are put together. There is very little characterization and what little there is is silly. Writing is bad, effects are worse. There is very little regard for audience intelligence and it shows in the lack of intelligence in the plot and script.
It is a waste considering that the trilogy this year put together three up and coming indie filmmakers. Oh well, it just goes to show you that you cannot squeeze quality out of a lemon and when Lily Monteverde goes into filmfest mode, you will get lemons.
Don't get me wrong though, I totally enjoyed myself, laughing over almost every scene; it was only afterwards that I remembered that the movie was supposed to be a horror flick and not a comedy. I hope those seated around and in front of me didn't mind me laughing too much.
This year, Enteng Kabisote was around but I chose to watch Shake Rattle and Roll IX instead.
It is so bad that it makes the phrase "guilty pleasure" seem so inadequate. It is the typical Regal movie where a smorgasbord of people in the film industry (Lovi Poe, for instance) and a smattering of actors (Gina Alajar, for instance) are put together. There is very little characterization and what little there is is silly. Writing is bad, effects are worse. There is very little regard for audience intelligence and it shows in the lack of intelligence in the plot and script.
It is a waste considering that the trilogy this year put together three up and coming indie filmmakers. Oh well, it just goes to show you that you cannot squeeze quality out of a lemon and when Lily Monteverde goes into filmfest mode, you will get lemons.
Don't get me wrong though, I totally enjoyed myself, laughing over almost every scene; it was only afterwards that I remembered that the movie was supposed to be a horror flick and not a comedy. I hope those seated around and in front of me didn't mind me laughing too much.
January 02, 2008
Half and Half doesn't mean a whole lot of anything
Rufus Rodriguez, the spokesperson of Erap, shoots his mouth off about Erap seeking the Presidency and says that he (Erap) is contemplating a term-sharing scheme with whoever it is who will be his Vice President. The premise is that Erap lost three (3) years of his original term and therefore he is only trying to get back his lost three (3) years--if you believe that, I have a bridge (two actually) that I want to sell you.
What do you think Erap is? Stupid? Ok, ok, don't answer all at the same time.
Once he gets back to the Presidency (assuming he can run again legally and is not restrained by the Court), he's not going to share the term with anyone else. And assuming he does agree to the harebrained scheme of sharing his term, he is going to choose someone so unambitious and so scared of the office that s/he would not even contemplate going after the half-term.
What Rufus Rodriguez has brought out is not a novel issue, it is downright cheap. It is to cheapen the Office of the President even more than Gloria has cheapened it--with EDSA 2 and with Hello Garci. It is the ultimate trapo solution to anything--since you can't agree on anything, halve whatever it is you're trying to get.
The Office of the President is not bibingka which you can half. Besides half and half doesn't mean a whole lot of anything. It is precisely what the people will get--half of one and half of another, which put together is totally less than the sum of the whole.
Rufus has gotten his fifteen minutes of fame and his above the fold headline now; he should just shut up now.
What do you think Erap is? Stupid? Ok, ok, don't answer all at the same time.
Once he gets back to the Presidency (assuming he can run again legally and is not restrained by the Court), he's not going to share the term with anyone else. And assuming he does agree to the harebrained scheme of sharing his term, he is going to choose someone so unambitious and so scared of the office that s/he would not even contemplate going after the half-term.
What Rufus Rodriguez has brought out is not a novel issue, it is downright cheap. It is to cheapen the Office of the President even more than Gloria has cheapened it--with EDSA 2 and with Hello Garci. It is the ultimate trapo solution to anything--since you can't agree on anything, halve whatever it is you're trying to get.
The Office of the President is not bibingka which you can half. Besides half and half doesn't mean a whole lot of anything. It is precisely what the people will get--half of one and half of another, which put together is totally less than the sum of the whole.
Rufus has gotten his fifteen minutes of fame and his above the fold headline now; he should just shut up now.
Is there no one else?
Erap contemplates running for President again in 2010; to this, the FVR side says, if Erap runs, FVR will be "asked" to run again.
I have nothing against old people; I am on record that Jovito R. Salonga is the best President we never had and he's an old man. But, is there really no one else?
Are we so bereft of talented and gifted and committed leaders that we have to have these two old men run again?
And please, no drafts for Gloria, JDV, Jojo Binay, Ping, Dick, Edong, Mar and Manny and ANY other person currently or in the last eight years in the Senate or the House.
What this country needs is fresh wind, not old farts.
I have nothing against old people; I am on record that Jovito R. Salonga is the best President we never had and he's an old man. But, is there really no one else?
Are we so bereft of talented and gifted and committed leaders that we have to have these two old men run again?
And please, no drafts for Gloria, JDV, Jojo Binay, Ping, Dick, Edong, Mar and Manny and ANY other person currently or in the last eight years in the Senate or the House.
What this country needs is fresh wind, not old farts.
January 01, 2008
New Year's SMS
It has not only become ritual but also commerce--the texting of greetings during special and festive events like Christmas and New Year's Eve and Day. Every year, my inbox is filled with many and varied greetings--some of which are recycled (how do I know? because I get them back. I even got back a text message I composed last night ) and some of them original.
One of the best--if only because it looked as if it was written for me and with me in mind--that I got, I got from a friend (text lingo included): "I pray that this coming year, God would gv u the grace to begin what you've planned, to continue what you have started and to finish what needs to be done. May you have a purposeful new year!"
I know its probably a globe or smart-generated sms greeting but it did speak to me as if it were written with me in mind.
) and some of them original.One of the best--if only because it looked as if it was written for me and with me in mind--that I got, I got from a friend (text lingo included): "I pray that this coming year, God would gv u the grace to begin what you've planned, to continue what you have started and to finish what needs to be done. May you have a purposeful new year!"
I know its probably a globe or smart-generated sms greeting but it did speak to me as if it were written with me in mind.
December 26, 2007
For T. Mena
On December 17, 2007, I lost someone very dear to me. She was the mother of a very good friend from law school; much later on, the entire family would become part of me, literally. On many occasions, she was literally like a mother to me (and to my classmates because many of us spent much time at her house) During her funeral mass, I had wanted to volunteer to say a few words but I knew that I would not be able to think or say anything.
For Susan (and Danny), Dada (and Charlie), Jing (and Fourdie), Frays, Cathy (and Dan) and of course Tito Noli and the next generation: China, (Joaquin+), Pat, Po, Nikki and JD -- there are very few words that will suffice to remember and celebrate the blessing that Tita Mena was to me. These words from the late (and much missed) Fr. Jim Donelan, S.J. (a priest whom Dada and I would find time to listen to when we were still both working in Makati) might put everything in perspective though:
Saying Goodbye
James F. Donelan, S.J.
Goodbyes have always been an inspiration to poets, and what has caught their poetic fancy most is the contradictory nature of the experience. Emily Dickinson says partings are all we know of Heaven, and all we need of Hell. Shakespeare's Romeo puts it simpler: Partings, he says, are such sweet sorrows. We smile through our tears and cry through our laughter.
But goodbyes are more than sentimental moments. They are one of nature's sacraments--sacraments in that they involve a mystery, an insight into the heart of things. there is a mystery involved in going away, in that simple experience of saying goodbye that touches each one of us, sometimes lightly, sometimes heavily.
Goodbyes reveal something about the meaning of our lives, the great tides that rise and fall, the joys and sorrows that inundate our hearts at different moments of our lives. We may hate goodbyes but we cannot avoid them because they put us in touch with something fundamental about ourselves--our rootedness in time and place.
Going away reminds us of our uniqueness, our identity, and how it depends on certain people. Our hearts have many anchors, but when the great tides call us to catch the wind and sail away, we will be missing life itself if we fail to go.
True, it is hard to say farewell, especially the milestone goodbyes of our life--leaving home, leaving country. But part of maturity lies in realizing that there is no genuine growth in life that doesn't gather us together and lead us to a point where we pull apart to find out who we are and what we must do with our lives. It is hard especially for parents to allow those we love their private places to be sad and to cry, to be lonely, to experience sorrow and defeat. Yet, going away is our daily spiritual bread. If we don't recognize that, then we haven't completely grown up.
The great secret, of course, that lies at the heart of the mystery is that saying goodbye or allowing others to be free to do so never truly separates us from what we have known and loved and shared. We can lose material things by separation, but absence only increases love.
The feeling we experience when we say goodbye adds to, rather than takes away from, our experience of life. And because we have had the courage to travel deep into love's mystery of going away, we can one day celebrate the joy of coming together again. And so life goes on, strengthened and encouraged by the hope and promise of reunion.
-----------
Tita Mena, thank you for your life and for the way you lived it. As China said, 20 years (which is how old she is) is too short; yet, I know and am reassured that you are in that blessed eternity already. . . waiting for us. And, somehow, that gives me much, much comfort. Until we see each other again, maraming salamat Tita.
For Susan (and Danny), Dada (and Charlie), Jing (and Fourdie), Frays, Cathy (and Dan) and of course Tito Noli and the next generation: China, (Joaquin+), Pat, Po, Nikki and JD -- there are very few words that will suffice to remember and celebrate the blessing that Tita Mena was to me. These words from the late (and much missed) Fr. Jim Donelan, S.J. (a priest whom Dada and I would find time to listen to when we were still both working in Makati) might put everything in perspective though:
Saying Goodbye
James F. Donelan, S.J.
Goodbyes have always been an inspiration to poets, and what has caught their poetic fancy most is the contradictory nature of the experience. Emily Dickinson says partings are all we know of Heaven, and all we need of Hell. Shakespeare's Romeo puts it simpler: Partings, he says, are such sweet sorrows. We smile through our tears and cry through our laughter.
But goodbyes are more than sentimental moments. They are one of nature's sacraments--sacraments in that they involve a mystery, an insight into the heart of things. there is a mystery involved in going away, in that simple experience of saying goodbye that touches each one of us, sometimes lightly, sometimes heavily.
Goodbyes reveal something about the meaning of our lives, the great tides that rise and fall, the joys and sorrows that inundate our hearts at different moments of our lives. We may hate goodbyes but we cannot avoid them because they put us in touch with something fundamental about ourselves--our rootedness in time and place.
Going away reminds us of our uniqueness, our identity, and how it depends on certain people. Our hearts have many anchors, but when the great tides call us to catch the wind and sail away, we will be missing life itself if we fail to go.
True, it is hard to say farewell, especially the milestone goodbyes of our life--leaving home, leaving country. But part of maturity lies in realizing that there is no genuine growth in life that doesn't gather us together and lead us to a point where we pull apart to find out who we are and what we must do with our lives. It is hard especially for parents to allow those we love their private places to be sad and to cry, to be lonely, to experience sorrow and defeat. Yet, going away is our daily spiritual bread. If we don't recognize that, then we haven't completely grown up.
The great secret, of course, that lies at the heart of the mystery is that saying goodbye or allowing others to be free to do so never truly separates us from what we have known and loved and shared. We can lose material things by separation, but absence only increases love.
The feeling we experience when we say goodbye adds to, rather than takes away from, our experience of life. And because we have had the courage to travel deep into love's mystery of going away, we can one day celebrate the joy of coming together again. And so life goes on, strengthened and encouraged by the hope and promise of reunion.
-----------
Tita Mena, thank you for your life and for the way you lived it. As China said, 20 years (which is how old she is) is too short; yet, I know and am reassured that you are in that blessed eternity already. . . waiting for us. And, somehow, that gives me much, much comfort. Until we see each other again, maraming salamat Tita.
December 24, 2007
A King has Come!
Isaiah 9:2b, 6: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them a light has shined. .. For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government will be upon his shoulder and His Name will be called "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace."
Luke 2:10-11: "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
The sweetest words that I have ever heard -- "for to you is born this day . . .a Savior."
Never has "Emmanuel" been so richly felt; indeed, God with us becomes a mere play of words had the incarnation never happened. But God with us becomes reality, becomes truth, becomes fact when we consider God's choice--to be born, live and die as flesh and blood.
After four weeks of expectant and hopeful waiting, Christmas is finally here--"for to you is born this day. . . a Savior."
Thank you, my King, for choosing to be born as one of us; for choosing to live as one of us; for choosing to know the pain, the struggles, the trials, the temptations, the frailties of humanity, of living as human and not simply as God.
Thank you, Jesus, for being God's light shining forth, piercing the darkness forever, renting the veil for all time.
Thank you, Light of God, Glory of God (Titus 2:13), that Moses' and our hearts' cry--"show me thy glory (Exodus 33:18)--has finally been revealed and we see Your glory face to face.
I come before your manger and see You , my God, in Your glory--amidst the squalor, the dirt, the grime, the stench, the disorder, the abject poverty, the simplicity and the neglect of man--and my heart sings Your praise--Emmanuel, what are we that we are loved so well? (Psalm 8:4) What kind of King are you, that you would be born and die for me?
The waiting has ended, the King has come! Come let us adore Him!
A Blessed Christmas!
Luke 2:10-11: "Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the people; for to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
The sweetest words that I have ever heard -- "for to you is born this day . . .a Savior."
Never has "Emmanuel" been so richly felt; indeed, God with us becomes a mere play of words had the incarnation never happened. But God with us becomes reality, becomes truth, becomes fact when we consider God's choice--to be born, live and die as flesh and blood.
After four weeks of expectant and hopeful waiting, Christmas is finally here--"for to you is born this day. . . a Savior."
Thank you, my King, for choosing to be born as one of us; for choosing to live as one of us; for choosing to know the pain, the struggles, the trials, the temptations, the frailties of humanity, of living as human and not simply as God.
Thank you, Jesus, for being God's light shining forth, piercing the darkness forever, renting the veil for all time.
Thank you, Light of God, Glory of God (Titus 2:13), that Moses' and our hearts' cry--"show me thy glory (Exodus 33:18)--has finally been revealed and we see Your glory face to face.
I come before your manger and see You , my God, in Your glory--amidst the squalor, the dirt, the grime, the stench, the disorder, the abject poverty, the simplicity and the neglect of man--and my heart sings Your praise--Emmanuel, what are we that we are loved so well? (Psalm 8:4) What kind of King are you, that you would be born and die for me?
The waiting has ended, the King has come! Come let us adore Him!
A Blessed Christmas!
December 12, 2007
Musings on Eternity, Waiting and Hope
In this very short season of Advent, amidst all the preparations for Christmas, some passages to help us keep things in perspective as we wait for the coming of the King:
Psalm 39
[1] I said, "I will guard my ways,
that I may not sin with my tongue;
I will bridle my mouth,
so long as the wicked are in my presence."
[2] I was dumb and silent;
I held my peace to no avail;
my distress grew worse,
[3] my heart became hot within me.
As I mused, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue:
[4] "Lord, let me know my end,
and what is the measure f my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is!
[5] Behold, Thou hast made my days a few
handbreadths,
and my lifetime is as nothing in Thy
sight.
Surely every man stands as a mere
breath!
[6] Surely man goes about as a shadow!
Surely for nought are they in turmoil;
man heaps up, and knows not who
will gather!
[7] And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in Thee.
[8] Deliver me from all my transgressions.
Make me not the scorn of the fool!
[9] I am dumb, I do not open my mouth;
for it is Thou who hast done it.
[10] Remove Thy stroke from me;
I am spent by the blows of Thy Hand.
[11] When Thou dost chasten man
with rebukes for sin,
Thou dost consume like a moth what is
dear to him;
surely every man is a mere breath!
[12] "Hear my prayer, O Lord,
and give ear to my cry;
hold not Thy peace at my tears!
For I am Thy passing guest,
a sojourner, like all my fathers.
[13]Look away from me, that I may know
gladness,
before I depart and be no more!"
Psalm 42
[1] As a hart longs
for flowing streams,
so longs my soul
for Thee, My God,
[2] My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and behold
the face of God?
[3] My tears have been my food
day and night,
while men say to me continually,
"Where is your God?"
[4] These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul;
how I went with the throng;
and led them in procession to the
house of God,
with glad shouts and songs of
thanksgiving,
a multitude keeping festival.
[5] Why are you cast down, O my souo,
and why are you disquieted
within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my help and my God.
My soul is cast down within me,
therefore I remember Thee
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
from Mount Mizar.
[7] Deep calls to deep
at the thunder of Thy cataracts;
all Thy waves and Thy billows
have gone over me.
[8] By day the Lord commands His
steadfast love; and at night His song
is within me, a prayer to the God of
my life.
[9] I say to God, my rock:
"Why hast Thou forgotten me?
Why go I mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?"
[10] As with a deadly wound in my body,
my adversaries taunt me, while they say
to me continually, "Where is your God?"
[11] Why are you cast down, O my soul;
and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise
him, my help and my God.
Psalm 39
[1] I said, "I will guard my ways,
that I may not sin with my tongue;
I will bridle my mouth,
so long as the wicked are in my presence."
[2] I was dumb and silent;
I held my peace to no avail;
my distress grew worse,
[3] my heart became hot within me.
As I mused, the fire burned;
then I spoke with my tongue:
[4] "Lord, let me know my end,
and what is the measure f my days;
let me know how fleeting my life is!
[5] Behold, Thou hast made my days a few
handbreadths,
and my lifetime is as nothing in Thy
sight.
Surely every man stands as a mere
breath!
[6] Surely man goes about as a shadow!
Surely for nought are they in turmoil;
man heaps up, and knows not who
will gather!
[7] And now, Lord, for what do I wait?
My hope is in Thee.
[8] Deliver me from all my transgressions.
Make me not the scorn of the fool!
[9] I am dumb, I do not open my mouth;
for it is Thou who hast done it.
[10] Remove Thy stroke from me;
I am spent by the blows of Thy Hand.
[11] When Thou dost chasten man
with rebukes for sin,
Thou dost consume like a moth what is
dear to him;
surely every man is a mere breath!
[12] "Hear my prayer, O Lord,
and give ear to my cry;
hold not Thy peace at my tears!
For I am Thy passing guest,
a sojourner, like all my fathers.
[13]Look away from me, that I may know
gladness,
before I depart and be no more!"
Psalm 42
[1] As a hart longs
for flowing streams,
so longs my soul
for Thee, My God,
[2] My soul thirsts for God,
for the living God.
When shall I come and behold
the face of God?
[3] My tears have been my food
day and night,
while men say to me continually,
"Where is your God?"
[4] These things I remember,
as I pour out my soul;
how I went with the throng;
and led them in procession to the
house of God,
with glad shouts and songs of
thanksgiving,
a multitude keeping festival.
[5] Why are you cast down, O my souo,
and why are you disquieted
within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my help and my God.
My soul is cast down within me,
therefore I remember Thee
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
from Mount Mizar.
[7] Deep calls to deep
at the thunder of Thy cataracts;
all Thy waves and Thy billows
have gone over me.
[8] By day the Lord commands His
steadfast love; and at night His song
is within me, a prayer to the God of
my life.
[9] I say to God, my rock:
"Why hast Thou forgotten me?
Why go I mourning
because of the oppression of the enemy?"
[10] As with a deadly wound in my body,
my adversaries taunt me, while they say
to me continually, "Where is your God?"
[11] Why are you cast down, O my soul;
and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise
him, my help and my God.
December 06, 2007
crossing the line
Much has been said about the pros and cons of the warrantless arrests made by the PNP NCRPO and SAF of the media members and support crew during the Pen caper.
The PNP has said that the warrantless arrests were justified because: 1. they could not determine whether the media members were indeed from media because some Magdalo members were posing as media (right, as if Sonny Trillanes could look like Pinky Webb or Ces Drilon) and 2. they had been warned off already and because they chose to stay, then they could be arrested.
One thing must be made clear: a line was crossed on November 29, 2007; and it was crossed by the police. That line was drawn by the constitutional guarantee of freedom of the press and until very recently (February 2006), that line had been held sacred--at least from 1986 onwards.
I unequivocally support my friends from the media who have condemned the arrests. Clearly, they were not only an overkill, they were also illegal and in violation of the constitution.
A difference must be struck between the refusal of some media members (particularly from ABS-CBN) to not obey the directive to leave the pen and the decision of the police to arrest (not process) the members of the media.
The only legal consequence of refusing to leave the pen is that the media who stayed waived their right to be protected from harm and cannot sue the police if they are injured or killed. That, I believe, the members of media who stayed knew very well and accepted fully.
Such refusal, however, cannot result in a valid warrantless arrest. Under the Rules of Court, a warrantless arrest may only be made on three (3) occasions and the pen caper did not fall under any of the three occasions. Moreover, refusal to leave did not justify the treatment accorded--handcuffed and paraded like ordinary criminals.
In doing so, the police crossed the line and considered, in blanket fashion, the media as combatant, as partisan, as enemy, By arresting media together with Trillanes, Lim et al, the police spoke loud and clear: the media are part of the rebellion.
True, often the media doth speak too much, complain too much but this is not one of those times. This time, they are in the right.
The PNP has said that the warrantless arrests were justified because: 1. they could not determine whether the media members were indeed from media because some Magdalo members were posing as media (right, as if Sonny Trillanes could look like Pinky Webb or Ces Drilon) and 2. they had been warned off already and because they chose to stay, then they could be arrested.
One thing must be made clear: a line was crossed on November 29, 2007; and it was crossed by the police. That line was drawn by the constitutional guarantee of freedom of the press and until very recently (February 2006), that line had been held sacred--at least from 1986 onwards.
I unequivocally support my friends from the media who have condemned the arrests. Clearly, they were not only an overkill, they were also illegal and in violation of the constitution.
A difference must be struck between the refusal of some media members (particularly from ABS-CBN) to not obey the directive to leave the pen and the decision of the police to arrest (not process) the members of the media.
The only legal consequence of refusing to leave the pen is that the media who stayed waived their right to be protected from harm and cannot sue the police if they are injured or killed. That, I believe, the members of media who stayed knew very well and accepted fully.
Such refusal, however, cannot result in a valid warrantless arrest. Under the Rules of Court, a warrantless arrest may only be made on three (3) occasions and the pen caper did not fall under any of the three occasions. Moreover, refusal to leave did not justify the treatment accorded--handcuffed and paraded like ordinary criminals.
In doing so, the police crossed the line and considered, in blanket fashion, the media as combatant, as partisan, as enemy, By arresting media together with Trillanes, Lim et al, the police spoke loud and clear: the media are part of the rebellion.
True, often the media doth speak too much, complain too much but this is not one of those times. This time, they are in the right.
November 30, 2007
11 Ways to Make the Empress Smile (An allegory in real time and in real life)
(Note: This is intended to be ironic, not literal. If you cannot appreciate irony, look the word up first before reading any further)
1. Stage a walk-out during your own trial for taking over a posh condotel by kidnapping your own witness with the aid of your armed and unarmed escorts. Make sure to look heroic, in the best traditions of Gringo Honasan, while doing so.
2. After yay walk-out, march (actually walk) from the court room to the nearest (actually not really because Mandarin is nearer; perhaps they're not so fond of the Captain's Bar) posh hotel while gazing at the camera and saying "sumali na kayo." Remember not to smile, the better to look authoritative (never mind that it makes you look pretend-intimidating)
3. Ask Ces Drilon to be your personal walk-out/protest/faux people power ad nauseam commentator (what's with the headband, Ces? sorry to disappoint, the headband works with Juday or Jolens; guess what you don't have and the two have) while walking to yay not necessarily the nearest posh hotel.
4. At yay not necessarily the nearest posh hotel, go directly to the function room previously reserved for you, which happens to be at the 2nd floor and which requires passage through an imperious-looking stair case and balcony.
5. After closeting yourself in, oblige the media (let's not forget Ces Drilon) with occasional snippets of fiery (well, not really; more sparkly, if there is such a word) faux revolutionary language using such words as "abusive", "corrupt" and the like before retreating into yay closet, oh sorry, room.
6. Stroll authoritatively from time to time across yay imperious-looking balcony, the better to gaze imperiously at yay subjects below. Make sure to not say anything but to look absorbed in deep thought.
7. Give the occasional and obligatory firebrand rhetoric but only after ensuring that all the major networks are represented (let's not forget Ces Drilon) and that the camera angle captures your best side.
8. Closet yourself with the obligatory former Vice President (of the Philippines, of course), the running priest, the retired bishop, the retired and tired looking UP President, the bearded former Congressman-lawyer and the really noisy Argee Guevarra and of course, Ces Drilon-- the better to use as human shields (what? you didn't tell them they would be human shields? Oh no. Oh well, they'll find out soon; I hope they don't mind too much)
9. As the video cameras roll, nonchalantly disregard the 3 pm deadline set by the PNP special action force and equally nonchalantly ignore the police surrounding yay posh hotel and taking pot shots at God knows what while privately freaking out ("where are my crowds? where are the masses? Erap! Jojo! Where are you?")
10. After a few canisters of tear gas are lobbed inside and 3 simba tanks barge through the lobby of yay posh hotel, emerge from yay imperial balcony and proclaim that you are surrendering to avoid loss of life to innocent civilians (not minding that yay innocent civilians would not have been in harms way in the first place had not yay posh hotel been taken over--a minor fact that many people in yay faux revolution conveniently forget).
11. Surrender in full view of the cameras and make sure to look stoic (stoic=heroic, get it?) while being pushed around and herded while handcuffed into a prison bus.
In the meantime, the Empress-Dictator smiles as she imposes a five-hour curfew and her grumbling subjects scramble home to make it in time.
1. Stage a walk-out during your own trial for taking over a posh condotel by kidnapping your own witness with the aid of your armed and unarmed escorts. Make sure to look heroic, in the best traditions of Gringo Honasan, while doing so.
2. After yay walk-out, march (actually walk) from the court room to the nearest (actually not really because Mandarin is nearer; perhaps they're not so fond of the Captain's Bar) posh hotel while gazing at the camera and saying "sumali na kayo." Remember not to smile, the better to look authoritative (never mind that it makes you look pretend-intimidating)
3. Ask Ces Drilon to be your personal walk-out/protest/faux people power ad nauseam commentator (what's with the headband, Ces? sorry to disappoint, the headband works with Juday or Jolens; guess what you don't have and the two have) while walking to yay not necessarily the nearest posh hotel.
4. At yay not necessarily the nearest posh hotel, go directly to the function room previously reserved for you, which happens to be at the 2nd floor and which requires passage through an imperious-looking stair case and balcony.
5. After closeting yourself in, oblige the media (let's not forget Ces Drilon) with occasional snippets of fiery (well, not really; more sparkly, if there is such a word) faux revolutionary language using such words as "abusive", "corrupt" and the like before retreating into yay closet, oh sorry, room.
6. Stroll authoritatively from time to time across yay imperious-looking balcony, the better to gaze imperiously at yay subjects below. Make sure to not say anything but to look absorbed in deep thought.
7. Give the occasional and obligatory firebrand rhetoric but only after ensuring that all the major networks are represented (let's not forget Ces Drilon) and that the camera angle captures your best side.
8. Closet yourself with the obligatory former Vice President (of the Philippines, of course), the running priest, the retired bishop, the retired and tired looking UP President, the bearded former Congressman-lawyer and the really noisy Argee Guevarra and of course, Ces Drilon-- the better to use as human shields (what? you didn't tell them they would be human shields? Oh no. Oh well, they'll find out soon; I hope they don't mind too much)
9. As the video cameras roll, nonchalantly disregard the 3 pm deadline set by the PNP special action force and equally nonchalantly ignore the police surrounding yay posh hotel and taking pot shots at God knows what while privately freaking out ("where are my crowds? where are the masses? Erap! Jojo! Where are you?")
10. After a few canisters of tear gas are lobbed inside and 3 simba tanks barge through the lobby of yay posh hotel, emerge from yay imperial balcony and proclaim that you are surrendering to avoid loss of life to innocent civilians (not minding that yay innocent civilians would not have been in harms way in the first place had not yay posh hotel been taken over--a minor fact that many people in yay faux revolution conveniently forget).
11. Surrender in full view of the cameras and make sure to look stoic (stoic=heroic, get it?) while being pushed around and herded while handcuffed into a prison bus.
In the meantime, the Empress-Dictator smiles as she imposes a five-hour curfew and her grumbling subjects scramble home to make it in time.
November 28, 2007
Perspective 5 (An Open Letter)
My God knows me too well; after all, He created me, He knows my heart and its ways. (Ps. 139)
Right after my last post, I left for a hearing. On the way there, I heard Him clearly and it was all I could do to not hit the car in front of me.
"The tongue is like a fire."
I had to pull over and pray.
In the past days, I've blogged about something that has been much debated, much discussed and much forwarded. It has generated heated exchanges and passionate opinions.
In my heart, I knew that I was speaking of things that were true and were right. Yet, even after I replied to the group's answer to me (see previous post), I did not feel at peace, in fact, I felt an even heavier burden.
My God spoke to me further while I prayed:
"Tame your tongue and do not let it control you. The purity of your heart's intention cannot justify the words you have spoken."
As the season of Advent approaches, one of the many things I had resolved to do was to be at peace with myself and with others; and it is ironic that as Advent approaches, I was not at peace and was, in fact, the source of discord. And all because of my tongue or, in this case, my "pen."
There is a right way to talk about the things that are wrong and a wrong way to talk about the things that are right. I realized that I may have chosen to talk about the things that are right in the wrong way and, in the process, have hurt and caused pain to people.
As I texted some of those concerned, there is no justification for disrespect even as there may be a basis for disagreement. And so, before I come before my God any further, I want to make things right with my brethren--for after all, all of us are children of God (yes, even you Florin).
To Harry, Florin, Barry, Ex Dean Bart, Ex Dean Merlin, Ex Dean Raul, Beth, JJ, Danny, Prof Ed, Prof Sison and Prof Doming,
I have used harsh words against some of you specifically and while there remains basis for disagreement among us, I realize there is no justification for disrespect. We still disagree on many things and you will still not be able to convince me to agree on many things (choice of the next dean, perhaps) but that disagreement does not need to end in disagreeability. In the same way that I have spoken publicly against you, allow me to publicly apologize to you
now.
It is your choice to accept and I cannot force you to accept. But I extend this apology sincerely, humbly and freely with the hope that we might be able to disagree about the Deanship and your choice for the next Dean under better circumstances (perhaps with Florin buying coffee) and perhaps with Dean Carlota around.
Right after my last post, I left for a hearing. On the way there, I heard Him clearly and it was all I could do to not hit the car in front of me.
"The tongue is like a fire."
I had to pull over and pray.
In the past days, I've blogged about something that has been much debated, much discussed and much forwarded. It has generated heated exchanges and passionate opinions.
In my heart, I knew that I was speaking of things that were true and were right. Yet, even after I replied to the group's answer to me (see previous post), I did not feel at peace, in fact, I felt an even heavier burden.
My God spoke to me further while I prayed:
"Tame your tongue and do not let it control you. The purity of your heart's intention cannot justify the words you have spoken."
As the season of Advent approaches, one of the many things I had resolved to do was to be at peace with myself and with others; and it is ironic that as Advent approaches, I was not at peace and was, in fact, the source of discord. And all because of my tongue or, in this case, my "pen."
There is a right way to talk about the things that are wrong and a wrong way to talk about the things that are right. I realized that I may have chosen to talk about the things that are right in the wrong way and, in the process, have hurt and caused pain to people.
As I texted some of those concerned, there is no justification for disrespect even as there may be a basis for disagreement. And so, before I come before my God any further, I want to make things right with my brethren--for after all, all of us are children of God (yes, even you Florin).
To Harry, Florin, Barry, Ex Dean Bart, Ex Dean Merlin, Ex Dean Raul, Beth, JJ, Danny, Prof Ed, Prof Sison and Prof Doming,
I have used harsh words against some of you specifically and while there remains basis for disagreement among us, I realize there is no justification for disrespect. We still disagree on many things and you will still not be able to convince me to agree on many things (choice of the next dean, perhaps
) but that disagreement does not need to end in disagreeability. In the same way that I have spoken publicly against you, allow me to publicly apologize to you now.
It is your choice to accept and I cannot force you to accept. But I extend this apology sincerely, humbly and freely with the hope that we might be able to disagree about the Deanship and your choice for the next Dean under better circumstances (perhaps with Florin buying coffee) and perhaps with Dean Carlota around.
Holier than Thou (Their title, not mine)
This is the response to my post (see "Ingratitude. In Gratitude") from Harry, Florin, Barry, Prof. Pangalangan, Former Dean Pangalangan, Former Dean Magallona, Former Dean Carale, Danny Concepcion, Professor Labitag, Professor Sison (some of those mentioned as having signed the statement posted; the two Profs. Disini, JJ and Domingo, did not sign).
It is not my intention to reply point for point as I stand by my statement completely.
Let me simply say two things:
1. I am pleasantly surprised that Florin Hilbay, who teaches Atheism in place of legal theory in first year, would quote scripture to me, and
2. I am mildly disappointed that Dean Pangalangan would not appreciate the irony (as my post on ingratitude was intended to be ironic) of his lecturing to me on "patronage politics."
3. And of course, I am shocked that "farce" would not include a professor who, in place of teaching the Bill of Rights in Consti Law 2 would teach everything BUT the Bill of Rights and leave his students to figure out for themselves what the Bill of Rights is.
4. Finally, I do miss being called "Teddy", something that my REALLY GOOD FRIENDS call me.
I would want to say "I am sorry" to the two former Deans Carale and Magallona but I cannot. I look up to Dean Magallona but, on this one, I disagree totally with his signing the statement and I have given my reasons why. I will apologize, however, for using strong language--stronger perhaps than they are used to.
Enough of me. Let's hear them:
-----------------------------------------
Dear Teddy,
OUR STATEMENT STOOD ON THE PRINCIPLE that the Search Process must not be
You have committed two basic mistakes.
FIRST, YOU GOT THE FACTS WRONG. You say that we “demand[ed] that Dean
All we asked was for Dean Carlota to let the official Search Process take its
Having blinded yourself to the tyranny of your own point of view, you label as ungrateful those who you think support other leaders and then demonize those who disagree with you.
INDEED WE ASK YOU: “WHY THE RUSH, TEDDY?” Why agree to a Search
Sincerely yours,
Barry Gutierrez
Elizabeth Pangalangan
Raul Pangalangan
Merlin Magallona
Bartolome Carale
Danilo Concepcion
Carmelo V. Sison
Edgardo A. Labitag
November 25, 2007
Ingratitude. In Gratitude.
Note: Not for the faint of heart, this contains strong language.
Harry Roque
Elizabeth Pangalangan
Raul Pangalangan
Merlin Magallona
Bartolome Carale
Domingo Disini
JJ Disini
Barry Gutierrez
Danilo Concepcion
Never mind that one of them is a former Dean who, on the first day of Dean Carlota’s term in 2005, assured the Dean that he would not object to a full term of three years for him, even beyond his birthday (a statement that this former Dean has denied, of course).
Never mind that one of them is a recently retired professor who practically begged for an extension so that he could hold on to his administrative post, and which Dean Carlota graciously granted and even expedited—no questions asked.
Never mind that another is a recently retired professor who also had his term extended by Dean Carlota--no questions asked either.
Never mind that the others are absentee directors who spend more time outside the University and their institutes than inside.
Never mind that not one of them can give a perfectly reasonable, let alone compelling, explanation why Dean Carlota has to leave as soon as he turns 65 and not stay one day longer.
Never mind that not one of them can give a perfectly reasonable answer to the equally reasonable question--"why the rush?"
Never mind that after more than 30 years of service to the U.P. and the
Mind only that they want him out the minute he turns 65.
Mind only that they wanted to make him a lame duck, as soon as possible, and to make him one in public, posting their signatures attached to huge statements—printed at college expense, at that.
After 30 plus years of faithful service, this man is met not in gratitude but with ingratitude.
Paraphrasing the Bard, surely now breaks a noble heart. A few days ago, I witnessed something totally uncharacteristic of Dean Carlota—he expressed, in no uncertain terms and tone, his disgust at his colleages. “If there is one thing good that has come out of this,” he said, “it is that I now know the true character of some of my colleagues. All I want is five more months, and they cannot even give me that!”
It is strong language coming from him, who is unfailingly civil, consistently cordial, deliberately inclusive, characteristically polite—yet, under the circumstances, I am not surprised; I am surprised only that he did not use stronger language, I would have—but that shows simply that he is a better man than I am.
After 30 plus years of continuous service, his colleagues, many of whom he taught, cannot give this man five more months!
Etched in granite at the lobby of Malcolm Hall, the
I would like to think that I teach law in the grand manner because I teach law students, first, to become good persons. One cannot become a great lawyer unless one is a good person first.
Certainly, modeling ingratitude cannot be part of teaching law in the grand manner. Butif it is, then perhaps it really is time to really tear down that wall with those words etched in granite because then teaching law in the grand manner--in this way--would be one big, cruel farce.
November 20, 2007
The Legal Equivalent of the Kitchen Sink
In my line of work, I had to learn early on to take whatever victories I get and manage to learn to roll with the punches, learn from the losses and try not to get too embarrassed from my galactically stupid mistakes.
A friend of mine told me that I am the lawyer's equivalent of St. Jude; if you know what he is patron saint of, you might catch the analogy. I didn't know what to think then but later on, I felt complimented.
Early on also, I've had to learn many little things about the law that would help--in any way--secure those precious little victories. One provision of the Rules that I stumbled upon early on is Rule 135, section 6 (non-lawyers, feel free to tune out after this; you're welcome to read on though if you wish.), an innocuous provision of the rules that no one (well, except I, he he he) in law school teaches. It is what I fondly call the legal equivalent of the kitchen sink (the figure of speech is "throwing everything at a problem, including the kitchen sink). It reads:
Sec. 6. Means to carry jurisdiction into effect. -- When by law, jurisdiction is conferred on a court or judicial officer, all auxiliary writs, processes and other means necessary to carry it into effect may be employed by such court or officer; and if the procedure to be followed in the exercise of such jurisdiction is not specifically pointed out by law or by these rules, any suitable process or mode of proceeding may be adopted which appears conformable to the spirit of said law or rules.
In short, what does it mean? It is license given to a court--any court-- to invent, to create, to magically conjure up remedies that the Rules or the Law did not even dream of, for so long as it is consistent with the law or the rules. Note that Article VIII, sec. 5(5) gives the power to promulgate rules on pleading, practice and procedure only to the Supreme Court but this one, Rule 135, sec. 6 gives to any court the power to adopt any process or mode of proceeding.
In my line of work, where clients generally don't have a defense, or a witness, or a witness who is credible, or cannot be bought, intimidated, frightened off or killed, that is the kitchen sink.
Recently in the very first case involving the writ of amparo (it is docketed by the CA as 00001), I cited this rule in our Position Paper for the petitioners; one of the justices commented, "I did not realize that rule existed. That is a very powerful rule. However did you discover that?" I just smiled.
My answer would have been, had I been minded to answer: "Sometimes, necessity, or utter and sheer desperation, is the mother of invention or resourcefulness."
That's how I discovered the legal equivalent of the kitchen sink.
A friend of mine told me that I am the lawyer's equivalent of St. Jude; if you know what he is patron saint of, you might catch the analogy. I didn't know what to think then but later on, I felt complimented.
Early on also, I've had to learn many little things about the law that would help--in any way--secure those precious little victories. One provision of the Rules that I stumbled upon early on is Rule 135, section 6 (non-lawyers, feel free to tune out after this; you're welcome to read on though if you wish.
), an innocuous provision of the rules that no one (well, except I, he he he) in law school teaches. It is what I fondly call the legal equivalent of the kitchen sink (the figure of speech is "throwing everything at a problem, including the kitchen sink). It reads:Sec. 6. Means to carry jurisdiction into effect. -- When by law, jurisdiction is conferred on a court or judicial officer, all auxiliary writs, processes and other means necessary to carry it into effect may be employed by such court or officer; and if the procedure to be followed in the exercise of such jurisdiction is not specifically pointed out by law or by these rules, any suitable process or mode of proceeding may be adopted which appears conformable to the spirit of said law or rules.
In short, what does it mean? It is license given to a court--any court-- to invent, to create, to magically conjure up remedies that the Rules or the Law did not even dream of, for so long as it is consistent with the law or the rules. Note that Article VIII, sec. 5(5) gives the power to promulgate rules on pleading, practice and procedure only to the Supreme Court but this one, Rule 135, sec. 6 gives to any court the power to adopt any process or mode of proceeding.
In my line of work, where clients generally don't have a defense, or a witness, or a witness who is credible, or cannot be bought, intimidated, frightened off or killed, that is the kitchen sink.
Recently in the very first case involving the writ of amparo (it is docketed by the CA as 00001
), I cited this rule in our Position Paper for the petitioners; one of the justices commented, "I did not realize that rule existed. That is a very powerful rule. However did you discover that?" I just smiled. My answer would have been, had I been minded to answer: "Sometimes, necessity, or utter and sheer desperation, is the mother of invention or resourcefulness."
That's how I discovered the legal equivalent of the kitchen sink.
November 10, 2007
Perspective 4
Here's something from my brother in Lingkod, Marlon, A compsci grad and IT professional who writes poetry, takes great pictures and is all out for God. It puts everything--well, many things--in perspective, really.
PARA SA DALAGITANG NAGPAKAMATAY NOONG NOVEMBER 2
A 12-year-old girl, who became despondent over her family’s poverty, hanged herself inside their makeshift house a day after her father told her he could not give her the P100 she needed for a school project. [from INQUIRER.net]
PARA SA DALAGITANG NAGPAKAMATAY NOONG NOVEMBER 2
A 12-year-old girl, who became despondent over her family’s poverty, hanged herself inside their makeshift house a day after her father told her he could not give her the P100 she needed for a school project. [from INQUIRER.net]
Sabihin na nating isa itong kumpisal. Bumili ako ng Big Mac noong araw na namatay ka. Yun ang lunch ko. Madalas ko naman kasi iyong ginagawa. Noong lunes bumili ako ng tatlong libro na hindi ko pa nababasa hanggang ngayon. Sale kasi, 300 pesos lahat. Sa tabi ng kama ko parang may mini library na ng mga hindi ko pa nababasa. Bili lang ako ng bili. Nung December last year bumili ako ng violin sa halagang limang libong piso at wala pa rin akong natututuhang kanta dahil wala akong oras sa pag-aaral. Inaaagiw na ang lalagyan. Buti may nag-inspire sa aking huwag nang mag-Starbucks. May ilang libo akong savings. Yung bangko ang nakikinabang. Hindi ko alam kung ano na ang mangyayari sa iyo. Hindi ko alam kung paano ka huhusgahan. Hindi ko alam kung paano na ako tinitingnan ng langit. Wala akong ibang masabi kundi 'Sumalangit nawa ang kanyang kaluluwa' kasunod ang matagal na katahimikan.
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