The ‘Yolanda’ cataclysm
The whole world is talking about the devastation caused by Supertyphoon “Yolanda.” It is hard to talk about anything else. Yet, life must go on.
Normally, on a Sunday like yesterday, many of the stragglers in the ruined roads of Tacloban struggling to find a home or ways of rebuilding their lives, would find themselves in their Sunday best worshipping in their favorite church or chapel. Yesterday (Sunday) they had no churches or chapels to go to, but some found makeshift opportunities for worship. It is perhaps providential that yesterday’s liturgy recalled another world tragedy which did not destroy the spirit of the people who witnessed it.
In the gospel story of yesterday’s Mass we find Jesus with some visitors, foreigners perhaps, admiring the beauty of the Jerusalem Temple. The temple in fact was one of the most impressive buildings of the time. It was to the Jews as the Basilica of St. Peter is to contemporary Catholics. But Jesus said to the group, “All these things you are staring at now—the time will come when not a single stone will be left on another: everything will be destroyed.” And indeed the unthinkable happened. When the Romans invaded the city, the temple was totally destroyed.
The city of Tacloban was totally destroyed by Yolanda. Nobody expected it. Many people contemplating the ruined city today, like the Jews staring at the ruined temple, must have been tempted to wonder if this was a signal of the imminent end of the world. Indeed, many early Christian writers were concerned with what they believed was the imminent end. And there are doomsday people in every generation.
To the credit of the citizens of Tacloban, I have not heard any doomsday talk. What we hear instead, in the midst of hunger and thirst and heat and rain is the proud acclamation “Tindog Tacloban” (Rise up Tacloban).
What are likewise most admirable and heartwarming are the responses of people from all walks of life and even of all ages to the cry for help of Tacloban and neighboring towns. A couple of days ago I witnessed a long line of high school students in their khaki and white uniform forming a human chain to bring relief goods from the Ateneo High School to the repacking center at the covered courts of the university. Boys will be boys, of course, and never mind that they were obviously enjoying themselves so much that those who initially did not join were pulled in.
But let us not talk about the much-criticized delayed reaction of the government (which President Aquino blamed on local governments but not on Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo this time). The fact is that the government—civilian and military—has been doing a heroic job responding to a tragedy we have never experienced before.
Let us talk about the pork barrel and what it could have done and it can do even now. The sooner the Supreme Court decides about the constitutionality or unconstitutionality of the pork barrel and of the Disbursement Acceleration Program, the sooner we can put to work riches that have not been placed at the service of the people who very much need them now and to whom they truly belong.
Conclusion. To go back now to the liturgical theme about which I earlier hinted, yesterday was the 34th or second to the last Sunday of the liturgical year. Next Sunday, the last, will be the feast of Christ the King. It will also be the beginning of a new liturgical year.
The feast is an occasion for the celebration of the kingship and mastery of God over all creation. He it was who created the world and everything and all people in it. And among the treasures he created was Tacloban City. But he destroyed the city with a mighty wind and mighty waves. He had his reasons and it is not for us to question them.
In just about a month it will be Christmas. What will Christmas look like in Tacloban? Many of its people have left and many more are lined up to leave. Let us all do what we can to help make Tacloban and the neighboring cities have a happy and blessed Christmas.
On an occasion like this, I am reminded of an essay of Fr. Horacio de la Costa which we memorized in high school English class:
“Poor as we are, we yet have something. This pauper among the nations of the earth hides two jewels in her rags. One of them is our music… Our other treasure is our faith…. These are the bonds that bind us together; these are the souls that make us one. And as long as there remains in these islands one mother to sing Nena’s lullaby, one boat to put out to sea with the immemorial rowing song, one priest to stand at the altar and offer God to God, this nation may be conquered, trampled upon, enslaved, but it cannot perish. Like the sun that dies every evening it will rise again from the dead.”
