Why Renato Corona is not Jesus Christ
Renato Corona faces the impeachment court today (Tuesday). This is as good a way as any to sum up what he’s been to us.
The other weekend, he painted himself like Jesus Christ. Like Christ, he had accepted his mission in life, he would go out and speak his truth to the world even though that guaranteed a “personal Calvary.” He would appear before the impeachment court whatever agony it brought in its wake. Like Christ, he hadn’t just accepted the prospective agony, he had embraced it knowing he would be saving the world by it. Or if not the world, at least the farmers of Hacienda Luisita.
Well, not quite. There are still a few differences between Jesus and Renato, between Christ and Corona.
One, Christ received his mandate from heaven. On the day he was born, a star shone in the East, which drew the Three Wise Men to him, bearing gifts. On the eve of his death, he pondered his fate, asking his heavenly father why he had reserved such a pass for him, but bowed to it as necessary to purge humanity of its sins. I don’t know what happened when Corona was born physically, but when he was incarnated as the highest judicial official of the land, it was at the stroke of midnight, which drew the creatures of the dark to him baring fangs. Well up to the eve of his judicial death, he did not think to ponder his fate or ask his earthly political mother, the one who is currently trying to look kaawa-awa, why she had reserved such a pass for him. He had always known it would be necessary to expunge her of all her sins and spare her from a fate worse than choking.
Two, Christ preached a doctrine of love, or law of compassion. Unlike the prophets of the Old Testament who called for an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, Christ said, much to the astonishment of his own disciples, that if someone hit you on one cheek, you should turn the other cheek. Corona practiced a doctrine of hate, or law of oppression. Unlike the chief justices of the past, who believed that their calling called for wisdom and largeness of spirit befitting the practice of law in the grand manner, Corona believed that if people are stupid enough to believe in the Christian teaching of turning the other cheek, you should oblige them. Such did he see the Basas, among them Sister Flory, and with the help of his wife gladly gave it to ’em on both cheeks.
Christ told the world the truth shall set you free. Corona told the Basas the truth shall set you free—of your possessions. His wife sued his uncle for libel for saying she had been collecting rents without permission from the owners of the Basa-Guidote Enterprises Inc. She naturally won her case, Corona hovering over the courts in various capacities, notably as chief presidential legal counsel. Jose Basa’s punishment was to lose everything he and his heirs owned in the family business. He continued to pay damages long after he was dead, contrary to law, but not over the one Corona presided.
Christ performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes, turning a few pieces of them into a quantity enough to feed a multitude. Corona performed the miracle of the shares and prices, turning the Basa fortune into an ukay-ukay, enough for their daughter to buy it for a song.
A howling mob rammed the crown of thorns into Christ’s head, mocking him for thinking of himself, or being thought of by others, as the King of kings. When in fact he kept insisting that his kingdom was not of this world but that whosoever believed in him would enjoy life everlasting. Corona has rammed the korona ng tinik into a long-suffering people’s head, especially on those of the flight stewards and attendants of PAL. Believing that his kingdom is very much of this world, whose address may be found in Padre Faura, he has made it known by reopening a case the Supreme Court had ruled three times with finality in favor of the Flight Attendants and Stewards Association of the Philippines (Fasap) that those who believe in him endure a case everlasting.
Christ was a simple and modest man. When Herod asked him if he was the son of God, he answered, “You say that I am.” He was literally a carpenter’s son, though spiritually he kept saying that “in my Father’s house are many mansions.” Corona has always thought the world of himself. When people ask if he is really the chief justice, despite being made so in circumstances that have turned Filipinos into doubting Thomases, he says, “But of course I am.” He was never poor, he says, when made to explain how he managed to acquire so many houses despite the meager income shown in his SALN. “We do not come from ordinary families,” he specifically said, to justify why in his wife’s and children’s names there are many mansions.
Jesus Christ spoke in parables the better to be understood by his public. Corona speaks in legalese, the better to mislead the public. Christ turned water into wine, thereby causing the guests at the wedding to rejoice. Corona turned law into bile, causing the aggrieved in his Court to weep. Christ caused the lame to walk, the blind to see, the dead to live again. Corona caused the plaintiffs to be lame, the justices to be blind, and, well, the dead to live too—or dead cases, cases ruled upon with finality, to live again and again and again. Christ said the meek shall inherit the earth. Corona says the Basas of this earth shall inherit nothing. Christ was crucified, died and was buried. On the third day, he rose again. Corona was impeached, tried, found guilty. On the first day, he was forgotten. Asked to sum up the life of Jesus Christ, you say, “A crowning glory!” Asked to sum up the life of Corona (and Gloria), you say:
“Jesus Christ!”
