They call him “Lolo Kiko.”
As I write this, Pope Francis is still some hours away from setting foot on our country, but already he has gained a nickname. He is “lolo,” a term of respect and also of endearment for an older male relative, although, used inappropriately, it can also be taken as an insult, a jibe, a joke. “Kiko” is a common Filipino pet name for males named “Francisco” or “Francis.” Thus, “Lolo Kiko” is not only a name meant to bring him closer and more accessible to the ordinary Pinoy, especially the youth, but is also a way to convey to the Holy Father himself how beloved he is, how he has endeared himself even if he has not yet personally met the great majority of Filipinos.
As a foreign TV news report puts it: “The people of the Philippines deserve an award for their enthusiasm ahead of Pope Francis’ visit to the country… People are showing their spirit by preparing posters and decorations for the papal visit, but they’ve also gone a step beyond the normal reception Pope Francis usually receives.”
From pictures and footage, we already know how enthused and fevered have been the Pope’s public audiences since he became leader of the Catholic Church in 2013. Especially memorable are shots of the Pope embracing babies, the elderly, the disfigured, and the ill as he makes the rounds of the crowd gathered for his audience at the plaza of St. Peter’s Basilica. And who can forget the scene in which he allowed a young boy to ascend the stage, hug him, and sit on his chair while he continued, unfazed, reading his address?
Given the fervid reception Filipinos are sure to give him, we can expect many such memorable scenes, many gestures of fondness and compassion, all of which would endear him even more to Filipinos.
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But the trouble with such public shows of fondness and empathy is that, as the name “Lolo Kiko” itself demonstrates, we Filipino Catholics could end up transforming him from the leader of the Catholic Church to some kind of mascot and comic figure, in much the same way our real “lolo” are sometimes treated in our families—loved and respected, but no longer taken seriously.
Because, despite his disdain for the formal trappings of power and pomp, his desire to get up close and personal to the faithful, his easy sense of humor, Francis is also a very serious pontiff, and one with a very serious mission.
He is not above scolding even fellow Church officials for what he considers their failings, as witness his reprimands issued to the Vatican Curia (officialdom) at the start of the year.
He has not been afraid to criticize governments and economic systems that he considers “oppressive,” and has not been above seeking to reconcile differences in faith, ideology, or politics. In Sri Lanka, where he was just before landing at Villamor Air Base, he reached out not just to Sri Lankan Catholics and Christians, but also to Buddhists and Muslims. And, more importantly, he sought to gather in unity the majority Buddhist Singhalese and the Muslim Tamil, who both fought a long and fierce civil war that was brought to an end only after much bloodshed and suffering.
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But I am sure, as he prepared for his long voyage to Manila and thence to Tacloban, the Pope read up as well on the Philippines, and more importantly, on the Philippine Church. For too long we have basked in the title of “the only Christian country in Asia” (with the exception of East Timor), with little thought to the contradictions inherent in our society that belie the title. For we are not strangers to poverty and misery, to injustice and inequity, to violence and crime, to the rot in our government that allows corruption to flourish, to hypocrisy and pretensions.
Reflecting on his readings and briefings, the Pope might well have thought that all this sounds familiar, for he himself hails from a land that, in the words of Paterno Esmaquel II of the website Rappler, is “a largely Catholic country with millions in poverty.” And in his years as a student, priest and prelate, the Pope “struggled under a dictatorship… [leading] a local church denounced by critics for meddling in politics.”
What will Pope Francis have to tell us about the need to reconcile our faith with our realities? What advice will he provide on curing the ills of a society burdened by poverty made worse by vestiges of offensive privilege? Judging from his strong statements, I would not be surprised if the Pontiff were to address these contradictions and ironies directly and frontally in his homilies. But would everybody be ready to listen?
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Paul VI, the first Holy Father to visit our country, is said to have been moved to tears when he visited with a family living in a hovel in Tondo. Even then, before he left the Philippines, he made mention, again and again, of the need to address the abject poverty under which the majority of our people lived.
Doubtless his words had an impact, but these were fleeting, for we know that even as efforts were undertaken to respond to Paul VI’s words, our situation of poverty remains unchanged and unyielding.
This, then is the challenge of Pope Francis’ visit. And the challenge is addressed, not to the Pope, but to us. Will we listen to him? Will we pay attention? Will we act as one to bring to reality his pleas and admonitions?
Or will we be content merely to bask in his presence, to comment on his kind smile and to pat ourselves on the back for impressing him with our fervor and the color and spectacle of our welcome?
In other words, are we ready for the presence of Christ’s representative on Earth and pay him heed? Or will we be content only to welcome our Lolo Kiko?