Category: Essays

If you want to be a thief in our country, make sure it’s not some petty theft like pickpocketing, robbing a jewelry store or even robbing a bank. Those are quite risky and life-threatening crimes. The potential pay-off of those are in the magnitude of hundreds, thousands or at most, a few million pesos – but the consequences are dire as well – you spend years in one of our overcrowded prisons (like this, this or this), neglected and forgotten except to those very close to you, or if you are unlucky enough to be caught in the act, you may get shot and killed as well.

So if you want to be a thief, go big time. Get close to a politician (and not some two-bit politician either but make sure they are big names) or be one yourself. Do not think about stealing hundreds of thousands or a few million only. Expand your horizons. Think big. Think hundreds of millions, and even billions. The bigger your vision and the grander your scheme, the better it will be for you. Oh, and make sure to make regular and hefty donations to your church, and always maintain an image of outward piety – this will come in handy later, as you will see.

Consider now the consequences if you are caught.

One, you will become an instant celebrity. Your face will be all over the national papers, on television and on the internet. Your name will be on everyone’s lips. You will be the topic of many conversations, tweets and status updates. Never mind that people are cursing your name and damning you to the deepest hell. That is only for the moment. Think long term. Filipinos are a forgiving people. In a few years, their anger will mellow down but you will still be known and famous. Why, you can even run for public office. One only has to think of a certain former first lady with a penchant for shoes, forced to flee from the country three decades ago, only to come back to wield power and influence once more. Heck, one of the accused senators, who thought that a privilege speech is a chance to show off his latest MTV, is even declaring his intent to run for president.

Two, you will get medical privileges. You can avoid going to those nasty prisons and instead opt for “hospital arrest.” All you need is a little skill in acting and a wheelchair. Just make sure to highlight a medical condition you already have and ask to be thoroughly examined. If you’re lucky, the government will even foot the bill for your stay. If not, well, there’s nothing to worry about. Since you had the foresight to steal huge sums of money, you can easily pay for your stay (you will even seem generous for not being a burden on the government). Do you get such benefits as a petty thief? Can you ask for an executive check-up at any of the top hospitals in the country? You should be so lucky if they let you out of your cell to go to the prison infirmary.

Three, your local priest or head of congregation will call for leniency and ask people not to condemn you. This is where your huge donations and friendliness to the clergy pay off. They will quote Jesus who confronted the crowd ready to stone the adulterous woman and say, “Let he who has no sin cast the first stone.” (Never mind that the story does not appear originally in the gospels but is generally thought by scholars to have been added on by scribes at a later point). “Do not condemn the scammers, for you could be just like them,” they will say. But do you hear them uttering those words if you are not a huge contributor or if you are a known critic? It was only a few years ago when a tour guide walked into the Manila Cathedral dressed as Jose Rizal, holding a sign that read “Damaso.” He was later convicted and jailed for “offending religious feelings.” Did you hear the clergy preaching non-condemnation and mercy then, as loudly as they do now? Perhaps he forgot to tithe his ten percent.

Four, you get exclusive accommodations especially built for you. After stealing billions from the government, it now feels obligated to spend a few more millions to ensure that your prison stay is safe and comfortable. Heaven forbid that they throw you into the same jam-packed facilities where they put all other thieves of lesser stature. Surely you deserve more because you stole a whole lot more. In fact, your custom-made “prison” is probably more luxurious than the homes of the “lesser” inmates. Yes, this is where the hard-earned taxes of your fellow citizens go. This is why the government has to work so hard to squeeze taxes from our professionals like doctors, actors, and even small earners like fishermen, sari-sari store owners, and even tricycle drivers. That is how privileged you will be for being a big-time crook.

Five, you will enjoy perks on your birthday, Christmas, New Year and probably other special holidays. Your relatives can come visit even beyond regular visiting hours, or you can take a trip to an outside facility and where you can spend the day with your relatives, as demonstrated by our previous president just last year. Now, try asking for those favors as a petty thief. “Excuse me, guard, it’s Christmas tomorrow. Can I go spend the day with my family instead of my 30 stinky cellmates?” Not likely to happen.

Six, if you’re lucky, you may even get a presidential pardon and be elected to public office again. Hopefully, you will be smarter about covering your tracks this time.

See? Thievery pays, but only if you are a man or woman of vision and lofty dreams, especially in the Philippines, where it’s more fun. Go big time!

Originally published in Sunstar Davao. Also published in Filipino Freethinkers.

Send me your thoughts at andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

As the country commemorates Independence Day, I thought of writing a short reflection of what independence and freedom means in the context of my religious upbringing.

From an early age, I had been taught that because God loves me, he sent his son to die in my place. It didn’t matter that I was just a chubby kid who loved dogs and reading comics. I deserved to burn in hell because I was a sinner — because I was a descendant of Adam and Eve who ate the forbidden fruit. It didn’t yet occur to me to ask why the Divine Gardener conveniently placed the forbidden fruit right smack in the middle of the garden where it was easily within reach.

Anyway, because of this, I was born with a fallen nature — that was why even as a child, I could lie, think bad thoughts, and disrespect my parents. Now, we may think these are small faults but an infinitely Holy God supposedly could not tolerate even the tiniest speck of sin. The usual Sunday school example was that if you take a pristine white tablecloth and put a drop of black ink on it somewhere, it wouldn’t be considered clean anymore. So because of that, my soul deserved to burn in hell for all eternity and there is no redemption for it at that point.

Yet, if I decided at this point, to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior, then I would be saved from this eternal fate and instead of roasting in hell, I would be feasting in heaven (though hopefully not on the flesh of those roasting in hell).

This decision was posed an exercise of freedom, that I was free to choose my own destiny — that of eternal bliss or of eternal torment — and I had to do that at an age when if you asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would answer, “Batman” — but I had to decide at that moment, because one never knows when death would come calling (child deaths are a grim reality) and by then, it would have been too late.

Even to adults, this decision is posed as an exercise in freedom. “You’re free to choose,” is the standard line of many preachers, “but know that if you make the wrong choice, then it’s off to hell you go.”

That was the doctrine I was brought up with, in a nutshell, and as an adult, I find it absurd.

Any court of law will tell you that a decision made under stress or threat is not one that is made freely. If, for example, a person holds a wealthy man’s family hostage and threatens to kill them if he doesn’t sign a contract handing over his business and properties to the hostage-taker, the man can always contest the validity of the contract later on, if he can prove that it was signed under duress and not of his own free will.

In a similar fashion, I would say that a decision made for Christ under the threat of unspeakable, everlasting torture, cannot be one that is freely made. The “choice” is no choice at all for what lunatic would choose otherwise? And even if a lunatic did choose otherwise, we would seriously question that person’s sanity and mental health.

Of course, I am aware of various theologies which try to explain this. Some would say that God simply respects your decision to not be with him. Fine, then, so why the eternal torture? If a man courts a woman, asks her to marry him, and she says no, can he say, “All right, I respect that, but as a consequence of your decision, I’m going to lock you up and torture you?”

Oh but hell isn’t torture. Hell means “separation from God” and that softens the blow a little because compared to the Bible’s graphic depiction of hellfire, it is now some fuzzy, abstract concept of separation, like being in a limbo in some dark space — but I would argue that this is not what the book says.

Some would say that God is simply handing out “infinite punishment for an infinite offense” — said offense being not recognizing him as God. My response would be, does it have to be that way then? Does God have no choice but to mete infinite punishment? Why not finite punishment? He could just make you disappear and that’s that — there’s no need to keep torturing you forever, is there? Or he could just simply spank you on the butt and forgive you. Why does this omnipotent being seem so limited in his choice of actions? Surely there are better alternatives to throwing one into hell for all eternity with no chance of redemption.

As a father, there are numerous ways for me to teach my kids a lesson but never one that harms them for life. Even the mother of a convicted murderer still cries and pleads for mercy as he is led to the lethal injection chamber. Is her love greater than that who is supposed to be the father of us all?

There is meme going around on the internet with a picture of Jesus saying, “Love me, so I can save you from what I’m going to do to you if you don’t love me.”

But is that really love? And are you really free to make that choice?

Happy Independence Day.

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

Send me your thoughts at andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

 

I had the pleasure of meeting one of my readers this week. His name is Edgar. He wrote me the longest response I ever received for my article, Irreligious. That started a brief email exchange which culminated in a book exchange and a pleasant chat over coffee.

Edgar is a Christian.

In one of my emails, I mentioned: “I do not reject the idea that God is good, just and compassionate. It’s just that if he really is all that, then that’s not the God being described in those books because the God there seems like a petty, immature spoiled brat who goes on a rampage if things get too much for him.” In this sentence, I was referring to several instances in the Old Testament where God goes on killing sprees (think Noah’s Ark, Sodom and Gomorrah, Jericho, Saul and the Amalekites, etc.)

Edgar responded by giving a hypothetical situation where I’m in a safari, looking at some magnificent elephants when suddenly I see a couple of people shooting and killing them with high-powered rifles. Of course, I get outraged and demand that they stop what they’re doing.

It turns out, however, that one of these people is the park master, who explains to me that they are practicing a system called “culling” which balances the ecosystem in the park. The elephant population has become so large that it was endangering many of the other species in the park. It was a drastic measure and one they found no pleasure in doing, yet it had to be done for the good of the park.

The point then, was that God may have reasons for doing what he did, but I just don’t understand them, that I don’t know enough to judge the situation. In his words, “our perspective is limited. We don’t see enough. We don’t see the whole story, the larger perspective, the bigger picture.”

I am not unfamiliar with this line of thinking. I call it the “The Lord Works In Mysterious Ways” argument. Its flaw, however, is that it doesn’t really explain anything. It can be used as sort of a magic formula answer to every possible situation.

Why did God, at certain instances, command the Israelites to wipe out an entire race — including the women, the elderly, children and infants? The Lord works in mysterious ways. Why does God allow natural calamities to wipe out entire families and deprive people of their lives and livelihood? The Lord works in mysterious ways. Why does God allow charlatans to preach in his name and amass wealth by spreading lies? The Lord works in mysterious ways. Why does God allow supposed faith healers to do real harm to people by promising healing and giving false hope instead of offering actual, life-saving medication? The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Saying that we can’t really understand how God works doesn’t really improve the situation much. In other fields of study, we do not accept that answer. Science strives to always understand more and more. Not knowing enough is not an excuse not to work towards knowing more, or inventing reasons and preaching them as fact, which is what some do.

In the given example, the park master was on hand to give an explanation, which calmed me down and made me understand. Yet, where is the divine “park master” to explain what is going on in the world? I do not hear any explanation save from secondhand sources who have themselves not heard from the park master himself.

A better example, perhaps, that more closely matches our reality, would be that I see the elephants drop dead one by one. So I don’t know why they’re dying, and neither does anyone else who sees them. Some of the observers offer conjectures — for example, that there is a hidden park master shooting the elephants with a silenced rifle for the reasons given in the original example. Some of these arguments are silly, but I also grant that some are intelligent arguments worth considering (and I do consider them seriously, which is why I even have conversations with people like Edgar, otherwise, why bother?) — but however intelligent these arguments are, they are conjectures nonetheless, and I have yet to hear from the sniper (who may or may not exist and who may or may not be the park master — who knows?) himself.

Yes, there are many things we do not know, and many things our reason can’t grasp, but that doesn’t mean we shut it down and stop trying to understand. History will attest that reason, logic and the scientific method are by far the best tools we have developed to ascertain truth and reality.

As we were about to part and shake hands, Edgar told me about how C.S. Lewis (best known for the Chronicles of Narnia as well as being a stalwart Catholic apologist) described his own conversion: “I was dragged kicking and screaming into the kingdom of God, eyes darting left and right for some means of escape.” What he meant to say was that at the end, he was seemingly left with no choice. He didn’t want to believe, but he had to, because for him, that was the only logical thing to do.

I have not yet reached that point, and still see some logical and reasonable alternatives worth pursuing and worth attacking to see if they will really stand the test of reason. And if I am to once again recover my faith, it will most likely in a manner similar to Lewis’ own kicking and screaming. My commitment to truth demands no less than an honest and brutal appraisal of the best arguments on either side.

What will happen in the end, I wonder? Who knows? The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Originally appears in Sunstar Davao.

Also published in Filipino Freethinkers.

Want free coffee? Send me your thoughts and I might just treat you to one. Email me at andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

 

It’s my dad’s 87th birthday as I write this. I spent the last few days scanning old photographs in preparation for a slideshow I was making for the celebration. Seeing those photos reminded me of the many lessons I learned from him while growing up.

Even when I was a young kid, my dad allowed me to walk to my friends’ houses that were near our house — around 2 or 3 blocks away — but always with the condition that I tell him what time I would be home, and that I would call him at the office when I do. One time, I promised to be home by 2pm, but I was late by 30 minutes. Unfortunately, my dad was home at that time and he had a stern look on his face as I came through the door.

“What time did you say you’ll be home?” he said.

“Two o’clock,” I replied.

“And what time is it?” he said.

“Two-thirty,” I said.

“Look, you better learn to be mindful of time. When you tell me that you’ll be home by 2:00, come hell or high water, you better be home by 2:00,” he said. He continued lecturing me about the importance of time but the point had been made. Thanks to that, I learned at a very early age to be on time — a habit that I carry to this day.

Another lesson I learned from him was diplomacy. I would sometimes say things that made him mad, but when I explained what I meant, he would calm down and say to me, “Don’t say it that way because I can easily misunderstand. The way you said it sounded so arrogant, that’s why I reacted that way. Remember, it’s not what you say, but how you say it.”

It is a lesson I am still learning to this day as it is not an easy one. But a corollary lesson to it is also learning to listen to people — and not to react emotionally but trying to understand the underlying thought and feelings behind the words they say.

The next lesson was about writing and editing. It wasn’t a lesson he taught directly, but he provided the environment and opportunity for me to practice what I learned in school. On Saturdays and during summer vacation, he would bring me to the office and let me type his many business letters while he dictated them to me.

My typing skills vastly improved because of this. I also edited his sentences on the fly when he made minor errors in subject/verb agreement or using the wrong pronoun. Of course, a lot of credit goes to my school teachers for teaching well, but my dad provided a way for me to apply those lessons in a very real and practical sense. I thought my little edits and corrections went largely unnoticed until one morning, he showed a letter I had typed to the entire family. He read to them a certain sentence that I had rephrased and praised me for that correction, saying that it sounded better and that I did well in correcting it. That encouraged me to go on honing my skills in grammar and writing.

Perhaps the best lesson I received from my dad was learning to be independent. He gave me an allowance and taught me how to account for it. I learned the terms “debit” and “credit” before I was 10. He made me answer the office phone, or call his business contacts to set appointments — teaching me how to communicate in a professional manner — and this was before my voice changed. He would let me try things on my own — riding a jeepney, biking, driving, and later on going to college in Manila, living independently, and so on. He was not afraid to let me make mistakes but he was always there afterwards to help me process the lessons gleaned from them.

When I think of my dad, I remember a story by Anthony de Mello:

To a disciple who was always at his prayers, the Master said, “When will you stop leaning on God and stand on your own two feet?”

The disciple was astonished. “But you are the one who taught us to look on God as Father!”

The master replied, “When will you learn that a father isn’t someone you can lean on but someone who rids you of your tendency to lean?”

Happy Birthday, Dad, and thanks for all the lessons.

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

You may email the author at andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.

 

Schooldays are right around the corner, and that reminds me of a time around 16 years ago. It was the same time of the year. I was a full-time high school English teacher hanging around the principal’s office when she suddenly said to me, “Hey, I haven’t found a history teacher yet and school is about to begin. Why don’t you teach world history?”

I said, “What? Do you know how little I care about history? It’s my second-least favorite subject.” (The least favorite being Filipino — in case you were wondering).

She insisted, “Come on. Help me out here. I don’t want to think about this anymore. I’ll give you an advance copy of the textbook so you can read up on it. I know you can handle it.”

When she was like this, it was very hard to argue with her. So I resigned myself to my fate and switched to bargaining. “All right, but I get to teach it my way.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

I said, “Well, what I hate most about history teachers is that they let students memorize a lot of trivial stuff — dates, names, places — instead of focusing on the importance or significance of the events. So I won’t be having any of that if I teach history. I plan on giving open-book exams.”

See, whatever subject I handled, my goal was always to teach students how to think critically rather than just memorize and spit out information that could easily have been looked up. There is that probably apocryphal story of Einstein who, when asked what his phone number was, went to the phonebook to look it up. His reason being that he didn’t want to waste his brain power memorizing things he could easily look up.

Anyway, my principal was a very broad-minded person (she was also the best boss I’ve ever had). She gave me free rein to go ahead with whatever I had planned.

So school started. I met my class and explained to them how I would be handling the class. They were generally happy when they learned about the open-books/open-notes tests, except for the intelligent few who knew that having an open-book test means you can’t find the answer in the book. So instead of asking them for names and dates of the first world war, I would ask them instead why Germany invaded Russia. Instead of asking who led this or that revolution, I would ask them what they would have done if they were that person.

Very quickly, my students learned that even though I allowed them to open their books, if they only opened their books during the test, they would fail. In fact, I warned them about it before the test saying they should study as if it were a closed-book exam — because if they would only study and read during the exam, they wouldn’t have time to finish the entire test. The books/notes should only be used as reminders and references but they should already have a good idea of the material beforehand.

I tried getting their interest in various ways, which was quite challenging because history has always been boring for me. I remember letting them watch the film, Schindler’s List (which had won 7 Academy Awards in 1993), to expose them to the horrors the Jews had to face in the second world war. In hindsight, it was probably too much for 14-year olds to handle, especially when the girls turned to me in shock (the boys were probably enjoying it) during a brief bed scene.

So the year passed pretty quickly and I was glad to have taken the challenge to do something I never thought I would do. My students probably learned a few things (hopefully) but I learned a lot of things as well. Teaching is, after all, the best way to learn anything.

But please, don’t ask me to teach Filipino.

Originally published in Sunstar Davao.

You may email the author at andy@freethinking.me. View previous articles at www.freethinking.me.