Blogs Bin : archived 4
May 19, 2006 : I've been reading articles by various Christian and Catholic journalists understandably fervid about debunking and dismantling Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code.
The more I read them, the keener I am at exercising my right to choose my own beliefs, not only in light of the furor over the best seller's viewpoints, but also because of questions I had about certain teachings of my only religion since birth - Roman Catholicism - that were recently "answered" after I started getting free copies of an illuminative magazine.
At the risk of being labeled a cafeteria Catholic, I am now contentedly more enlightened on such popular Catholic practices and beliefs as the celebration of Christmas ( is Dec. 25 really the birthday of the Lord? ), Easter Sunday observance (Christ rose on the 3rd day, Sunday, so did he die on a Friday? ), Sunday as the holy day, etc., not to mention on life and the world in general of which innumerable revelatory, expansive,and elucidative articles are contained in every issue of this magazine. You just have to be a thinking reader to decide whether you buy what you're reading or not, or if you opt to change religion because of certain discrepancies between your beliefs then and now.
I just want to be able to understand what I believe in; being told to simply believe with blind faith, or to accept unquestioningly things as 'mysteries' because they can't be explained was only acceptable while I was in high school. I'd like to be blissfully enlightened at this age and go clear-headed into my twilight.
And yet for all my skepticism, misdoubt, and outright disillusionment about certain doctrines of my faith, I remain a tenaciously conservative Roman Catholic in matters relating to marriage, abortion, contraceptive use,homosexuality, etc. Which means I value marriage and try to make it work in the face of disaffections and discontent; I'm against abortion just to save face, escape responsibility, or get even; I'm against the wholesale distribution of condoms in the guise of arresting the spread of AIDS and population explosion ( is it so hard to just stop indiscriminate sex? ); I'm not for the church's sanctioning of same-sex marriage ( ok, dearies, you may live together since it's not your fault that your sensibilities are incongruous with your sex organs, but please skip the church wedding! ).
I know religions are not perfect, being man-made, hence converting is beside the point, for me. I'm just getting at truths as far as my limited human intelligence can take me. I'm still a Roman Catholic at heart and Jesus Christ is, and always will be - My Saviour and my Light.
May 15, 2006 : Let me just blog here an entry ( "thoughts" ) in my 2005 diary, dated May 7, to be exact.
Changes are inevitable, this I've always known. When I was younger - so much younger than today, as the Beatles song goes - changes meant " for the better." You know, finer and fairer facial skin after a month's use of the Chinese pearl paste ly-na, or a fuller and curvier body after a 2-month summer respite from school. Now, in my golden years, changes have taken on a new meaning : physical depreciation and coping with it. How so? Well...
I used to lug big pots of plants from one corner to the other in that sun-blest garden of mine in Marasbaras, without fear of breaking some bones or busting my lungs; used to move furniture around the house without help, since I had this thing about surprising everyone with a new arrangement every now and then; used to sing " loud and clear " in my JVC karaoke for hours on end without croaking or feeling breathless. Well, lots of other Wonder-Woman feats I used to do, but can't do anymore.
I used to look cute and piquant when I pouted or glowered. ( I know because I looked in the mirror! ) Now, when I make the same facial expressions and look in the mirror, what I see is a wintry, time-worn face putting on a very unbecoming facial contortion. I feel ashamed, if a bit terrified. Talk of things we, young once, can't get away with anymore.
Apropos, there was this Mr. E. - my dad's friend & contemporary - in his 70s that time - who used to come to my office, LEYECO 2, to pay his electric bill. He had this habit of sticking his tongue out, licking and lapping his lips as if salivating, all the time he was at the tellers' counter. I thought, what a d.o.m.! I even told Dad about how repulsive his friend was. Now I know better and I regret I ever did what I did ( tell Dad ), and felt the way I did. Mr. E. was just playing at being cute and youthful. No wonder Dad just frowned and didn't say anything.
I used to take socializing or just plain human-commingling ( with old friends or new acquaintances ) as part of everyday living. Now, I'm content - or perhaps, I prefer - being left alone. But if I had to socialize, or imagined I would, it's got to be with people I'm comfortable with, which aren't that many, I'm afraid.
I - rather my despicable vain self - used to feel slighted when no one looked at me especially when I thought I was looking great. Now, I'm always wishing no one notices me, and if someone did stare, I'd almost always conclude it was because I looked ghastly.
I could eat just about anything then : creamy salads, beef steak ( filet mignon at 13 Coins ),dinugu-an, lengua, menudencia, ginamus, tamban, cheese-taro-pepsi combo, ref cake,biko, all kinds of pork dishes. Now, it's got to be only fish, chicken, fruits. And if I had veggies, they'd better not be saturated in oil, or my tummy goes haywire. Well, a little bit of shrimp and the tenderest of squids in my suki will do, thank you. Sometimes, salads without much cream to provoke my innards. And oh, I can always abide dry bread and cakes - as long as the icing is scraped off.
Like a bad dream that I cannot wake up from. Tsk...tsk...
May 6, 2006 : What's the buzz? Well, for one, Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code was such a thoroughly absorbing and enlightening read that I couldn't put it down until I was down to the last word. A lot has been buzzing about and around because of it ... and the forthcoming movie which is yet to be shown in theatres here in Bangkok. ( Showing date is May 17)
Now what if Jesus Christ were actually married to Mary of Magdala? To me, it makes sense. Or how can I explain to myself the magnanimous presence of Mary Magdalene - pictured as a fallen woman - in the earthly life of Jesus Christ, as written in the bible? It was she who anointed Jesus' feet with precious fragrant oil, to the consternation of Judas Iscariot and the rest of the disciples who witnessed this; she who was ever-present among the crowd that followed Jesus' trek to Mt. Calvary, and when He finally took His last breath on the cross of Golgotha; she who was the earliest at His tomb on the third day, and she to whom He first showed His resurrected Self. Who else but someone truly special should have all that privilege? A paramour or a fanatic you say? Hmm, but I'd rather she were the wife - the perfect yang to the yin, the venerable chalice to the blade.
( Leonardo Da Vinci's rendering of The LAST SUPPER only accredits and upholds such grand assumption. How can we not marvel at such a work of a prankster genius! )
That Jesus and Mary Magdalene were spouses even erases unavoidable hunches and conjectures - secret and silent as mine had been before now - and debunks innuendoes that Jesus was cavorting with a prostitute or a reformed prostitute as she is made out to be in the Bible, and playfully insinuated in rock operas. The reality or notion that they were husband and wife puts them in a better light, don't you think so, too?
My mind is lighter on the premise that Jesus Christ, as a mortal being who walked this earth, was married to Mary Magdalene, and that He counted her as one of His apostles; in fact, the one to whom He had given directions for the establishment of the Christian church. Unless, of course, one persists in demonizing the sacred feminine and begrudging a woman her rightful place in Christianity. And therein lies the rub for Emperor Constantine had other agenda as history would bear out.
In my - probably - simplistic view, a married Jesus Christ does not make Him less of what He has been, or what He is to most Roman Catholics and Christians. I have not stopped believing in His teachings just because I lean towards the theory that He was, in fact, married.
May 2, 2006 : Although savouring old favorite family dishes - kinilaw, menudencia ala-Dad, dinugu-an ala-Nanay, etc. - is such a joyfully valid reason for getting together, it actually comes only second in the hierarchy of agenda during reunions my siblings and I have every now and then. Recalling memories of family happenings - funny, sad, scary, heartwarming - is the no. one. We seem never to tire or get embarrassed invoking and narrating again and again patches of memories of our life together, from way back when we were frolicsome and dowdy kids on Real Street, to when we were whimsical teenagers at the Gasang Compound on Pericohon Street, and finally, when we were proper grown-ups on Sampaguita Road. Our stories are always the same, and yet they never cease to exhilarate us, as if each time they're told is the first time ever.
Our selective memories invigorate our delirious chats even more. One of us may recall vividly something the rest of us can remember only vaguely. Or all of us remember one episode and yet our feelings, interpretations, and concenters vary. All the more enlivening is a "new" recollection rummaged from the memory satchel of one of us sisters, to add - no doubt - to the abundance of our family memories. There are no sanitized selections of our reminiscences; we let them all hang. And so we laugh and laugh until our eyes water, or until another piece of memory is put forth by one of us to sober up the mood a little.
My 5 sisters and I remember things in different lights, varied perspectives. And perhaps because of this, our individual memories - distinct and selective -have pretty much defined each of our respective lives as wives and moms in ways that only we can understand.
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