Finding God in All Things. :-)
I see Christ here.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The God of the Stable
Several years ago, Kuya Mark (or was it Ate Nancy?) gave a talk during the A-days Christmas batch... then handed me a photocopy of an article used during the talk. As if in perfect timing with the start of Simbang Gabi, I found the article, neatly folded in the pocket of my handbag.
The God of the Stable: "Here - take Him He is yours"
By Julie A. Collins
Taken from National Jesuit News, December 2000
As Advent melts away and December 25th seems to race towards us, I am reminded of a Christmas lesson one of my students taught me. On the day we were to break for the Christmas holiday, I was shamelessly using a move to stem the tide of pre-vacation euphoria. (Even the best behaved freshmen boys have been known to hang from the ceilings on the last day before Christmas break - and string their teacher up with them! One must have a plan...) The class was viewing the Annunciation and Nativity segments of Franco Zeffirelli's "Jesus of Nazareth". As the exhausted couple reached the stable and Mary's labor intensified, I will never forget the look of horror on Scott's face as he turned to me and whispered in his little Dallas accent, "Mr. Collins - you mean she was in pain? The Blessed Mother gave birth to Jesus in pain?"
"Yes Scott," as I bent over his incredulous face, "the Blessed Mother was in pain when she delivered Jesus." "Oh, my God," the boy breathed. Fifteen years later that question still rumbles in my memory and as Christmas approaches, I touch it again. I see Scott's face, and know that I have to do as Ignatius of Loyola urges: I have to beg God to let me enter that stable. If I want to touch the God who was born in Bethlehem, I have to come close to poverty, the pain, and the confusion of that night. I have to be willing to let God peel away the neat and tidy Christmas card laminate that covers my imagination and makes the Incarnation neat, tidy and domesticated.
It is none of these things. The incarnation at its most shattering is rooted in God's vast humility and the scene in the stable shouts that Love will go anywhere, touch any pain, bear any burden to be with the Beloved. The Incarnation reminds us that the God of the universe, who sculpted the Milky Way and flung it into the sky, took shape in the flesh and bone and blood of a woman simple because she said "Yes." The Incarnation reveals that Love can be desperate, can be willing to take any risk if the Beloved can be saved, found, and grounded in the truth once more.
But to know that Love we have to be willing to come to Bethlehem. And I know I draw back. I don't want to see it - the panic on Joseph's face as he fruitlessly begs for shelter, the terror in Mary's eyes as she wonders if she will die giving birth to this child, the blood on the straw, the stench of the stable, the filfth of the animals. I cling to my Hallmark images because they save me from a God who has chosen to be helpless, a God who even now insists on entering my life enmeshed in the mess, the confusion, and the ordinary disappointments. I want the God of the angel song, I want the God of the Epiphany. The God who rises from the love of two panichked human beings is too challenging, too complex, too close.
Perhaps I am not alone in this. Why are there countless bloody and graphic paintings of Jesus' death and yet his birth is always portrayed as serene and seraphic? It's not that I quibble with the angels. I'm sure they were there. But not at first - not visible, not there to magically stem the tide of human fear and human failure.
It's not that the angelic visitors would blush at the physical, sexual reality of birth. Without body themselves, they would not despise Mary hers. They would witness a man and woman in the most intimate of circumstances. Joseph, who knew it was forbidden by Law for a man to see a woman in labor, bravely fumbling his way through the mysteries of childbirth, begging God to save his wife and son. And Mary, with pain pounding in waves through her barely pubescent body, wondering whatever possessed her to leave Nazareth, yet sure that the good man beside her was the one she needed with her on this mysterious journey.
We have to see this couple before the angels, before the shepherds, before the kinds. We have to see them when all they had was each other and the conviction that, even in the midst of this disaster, their God would not abandon them. Joseph and Mary gave birth to Emmanuel that night because they already knew him. They knew and trusted the One who is always "with us".
And they knew the God who would come into that stable, come into their fear, come into their own feelings of failure. Mary believed in a God who would be that close, that little, that intimate. She could say to God, "Yes, you may take flesh in me - not because I am worthy but because I know that you can do anything. And if you need me, I am yours."
Jesus became the God that Joseph and Mary knew. He became the man who God would be when God takes flesh. The tenses are all wrong there of course, because the Logos lives outside of tense, outside of time. But it is my stumbling effort to express the mystery. Even in becoming himself, even in taking flesh and growing up within a human family, God chose the most wonderful cooperation with human beings. It is at the core of our dignity and also at the center of our frustration. God is always choosing to save the world through us.
His reverence to our freedom is breathtaking. God continually flooding us with grace but he never overrides our will. Like Mary and Joseph, we are always and forever free to accept his partnership in the work of salvation or reject it.
Is this a God we can accept? Can we celebrate a God who would choose to enter the world so dependent on human beings? Can we love a God who does not spare us the struggle of salvation? A God who may send us to Bethlehem or to Calvary?
This Christmas I ask myself and wonder if I can be that grown up. Can I be a companion of Jesus or am I secretly wishing for a safer road, a surer outcome? Can I look at the Christmas creche and beg for a share in the human courage that under girds it?
My mind flashes to a hot day in July when I was making the "long retreat" and praying over the Nativity story. As Ignatius Loyola advises, my director had told me to pray for the grace of being placed by God in the gospel scene. I begged for that gift as the prayer period began but not, I confess, with much confidence. As any experienced retreat director knows, the Ignatian "Application of the Senses" seems to occur quite naturally as the retreatant moves through the Spiritual Exercises. But for some people, myself included, this use of imagination does not always produce a "visit" to the scene itself.
But on this morning in July, something broke open and there I was, at the mouth of the cave, cautiously peering in at the couple. The agony of birth had passed and an exhausted, happy glow enveloped them both as Mary cooed over the baby and nursed him. Suddenly, she looked up, smiled and in the most familiar way said: "Joseph, look it's Julie. Julie, come in." In stunned silence I stood rooted to the spot until Jospeh came over to me, took me gently by the arm and led me to where Mary was seated with Jesus. She held him up to me with the delight of any mother and said, "Here - take him. He is yours." I drew back, but she only chuckled and slipped the baby into my arms. As I looked down all I could see was his tiny, fuzzy head, nestled in the crook of my arm.
The God of the universe, in my arms, in my hands, in my power - waiting, always waiting, for my "Yes". My face was drenched with tears.
This is the miracle of Christmas - this is Love enfleshed. In a frail but tender human "Yes". In a man, in a woman, a baby struggling to be born. And so are we - so are we. We struggle to be born and it is this humble God, our God of the stable, who gives birth to us - with our "Yes" - over and over again. Merry Christmas.
The God of the Stable: "Here - take Him He is yours"
By Julie A. Collins
Taken from National Jesuit News, December 2000
As Advent melts away and December 25th seems to race towards us, I am reminded of a Christmas lesson one of my students taught me. On the day we were to break for the Christmas holiday, I was shamelessly using a move to stem the tide of pre-vacation euphoria. (Even the best behaved freshmen boys have been known to hang from the ceilings on the last day before Christmas break - and string their teacher up with them! One must have a plan...) The class was viewing the Annunciation and Nativity segments of Franco Zeffirelli's "Jesus of Nazareth". As the exhausted couple reached the stable and Mary's labor intensified, I will never forget the look of horror on Scott's face as he turned to me and whispered in his little Dallas accent, "Mr. Collins - you mean she was in pain? The Blessed Mother gave birth to Jesus in pain?"
"Yes Scott," as I bent over his incredulous face, "the Blessed Mother was in pain when she delivered Jesus." "Oh, my God," the boy breathed. Fifteen years later that question still rumbles in my memory and as Christmas approaches, I touch it again. I see Scott's face, and know that I have to do as Ignatius of Loyola urges: I have to beg God to let me enter that stable. If I want to touch the God who was born in Bethlehem, I have to come close to poverty, the pain, and the confusion of that night. I have to be willing to let God peel away the neat and tidy Christmas card laminate that covers my imagination and makes the Incarnation neat, tidy and domesticated.
It is none of these things. The incarnation at its most shattering is rooted in God's vast humility and the scene in the stable shouts that Love will go anywhere, touch any pain, bear any burden to be with the Beloved. The Incarnation reminds us that the God of the universe, who sculpted the Milky Way and flung it into the sky, took shape in the flesh and bone and blood of a woman simple because she said "Yes." The Incarnation reveals that Love can be desperate, can be willing to take any risk if the Beloved can be saved, found, and grounded in the truth once more.
But to know that Love we have to be willing to come to Bethlehem. And I know I draw back. I don't want to see it - the panic on Joseph's face as he fruitlessly begs for shelter, the terror in Mary's eyes as she wonders if she will die giving birth to this child, the blood on the straw, the stench of the stable, the filfth of the animals. I cling to my Hallmark images because they save me from a God who has chosen to be helpless, a God who even now insists on entering my life enmeshed in the mess, the confusion, and the ordinary disappointments. I want the God of the angel song, I want the God of the Epiphany. The God who rises from the love of two panichked human beings is too challenging, too complex, too close.
Perhaps I am not alone in this. Why are there countless bloody and graphic paintings of Jesus' death and yet his birth is always portrayed as serene and seraphic? It's not that I quibble with the angels. I'm sure they were there. But not at first - not visible, not there to magically stem the tide of human fear and human failure.
It's not that the angelic visitors would blush at the physical, sexual reality of birth. Without body themselves, they would not despise Mary hers. They would witness a man and woman in the most intimate of circumstances. Joseph, who knew it was forbidden by Law for a man to see a woman in labor, bravely fumbling his way through the mysteries of childbirth, begging God to save his wife and son. And Mary, with pain pounding in waves through her barely pubescent body, wondering whatever possessed her to leave Nazareth, yet sure that the good man beside her was the one she needed with her on this mysterious journey.
We have to see this couple before the angels, before the shepherds, before the kinds. We have to see them when all they had was each other and the conviction that, even in the midst of this disaster, their God would not abandon them. Joseph and Mary gave birth to Emmanuel that night because they already knew him. They knew and trusted the One who is always "with us".
And they knew the God who would come into that stable, come into their fear, come into their own feelings of failure. Mary believed in a God who would be that close, that little, that intimate. She could say to God, "Yes, you may take flesh in me - not because I am worthy but because I know that you can do anything. And if you need me, I am yours."
Jesus became the God that Joseph and Mary knew. He became the man who God would be when God takes flesh. The tenses are all wrong there of course, because the Logos lives outside of tense, outside of time. But it is my stumbling effort to express the mystery. Even in becoming himself, even in taking flesh and growing up within a human family, God chose the most wonderful cooperation with human beings. It is at the core of our dignity and also at the center of our frustration. God is always choosing to save the world through us.
His reverence to our freedom is breathtaking. God continually flooding us with grace but he never overrides our will. Like Mary and Joseph, we are always and forever free to accept his partnership in the work of salvation or reject it.
Is this a God we can accept? Can we celebrate a God who would choose to enter the world so dependent on human beings? Can we love a God who does not spare us the struggle of salvation? A God who may send us to Bethlehem or to Calvary?
This Christmas I ask myself and wonder if I can be that grown up. Can I be a companion of Jesus or am I secretly wishing for a safer road, a surer outcome? Can I look at the Christmas creche and beg for a share in the human courage that under girds it?
My mind flashes to a hot day in July when I was making the "long retreat" and praying over the Nativity story. As Ignatius Loyola advises, my director had told me to pray for the grace of being placed by God in the gospel scene. I begged for that gift as the prayer period began but not, I confess, with much confidence. As any experienced retreat director knows, the Ignatian "Application of the Senses" seems to occur quite naturally as the retreatant moves through the Spiritual Exercises. But for some people, myself included, this use of imagination does not always produce a "visit" to the scene itself.
But on this morning in July, something broke open and there I was, at the mouth of the cave, cautiously peering in at the couple. The agony of birth had passed and an exhausted, happy glow enveloped them both as Mary cooed over the baby and nursed him. Suddenly, she looked up, smiled and in the most familiar way said: "Joseph, look it's Julie. Julie, come in." In stunned silence I stood rooted to the spot until Jospeh came over to me, took me gently by the arm and led me to where Mary was seated with Jesus. She held him up to me with the delight of any mother and said, "Here - take him. He is yours." I drew back, but she only chuckled and slipped the baby into my arms. As I looked down all I could see was his tiny, fuzzy head, nestled in the crook of my arm.
The God of the universe, in my arms, in my hands, in my power - waiting, always waiting, for my "Yes". My face was drenched with tears.
This is the miracle of Christmas - this is Love enfleshed. In a frail but tender human "Yes". In a man, in a woman, a baby struggling to be born. And so are we - so are we. We struggle to be born and it is this humble God, our God of the stable, who gives birth to us - with our "Yes" - over and over again. Merry Christmas.
Ateneo Planner
I want.
According to Ate A-Shop, they are not selling this year.
HUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY?!??!
According to Ate A-Shop, they are not selling this year.
HUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY?!??!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Find Lee ala Oblation
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Happy 60th Birthday UDHR!
Seeing Anne Elicano’s facebook status reminded me of Mary Ann Glendon’s A World Made New – a historical account of the drafting of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
On one hand, one would think how simple it should have been to list down all the things a person deserved and ought to have in his/her lifetime, and that it would be just as simple to list the things that one should not do to a fellow human being. On the other hand, if it were that simple to recognize the dos and don’ts of human nature, then it should have followed that the “do not dos” would not ever have happened. It also wouldn’t have taken the commission two years to draft.
War as a Necessity?
Sixty years ago today, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted by the international community. Shaken by the atrocities of World War II, the world finally decided that something should be done. “The Holocaust altered forever the way in which people considered human rights. Prior to World War II the prevalent attitude had been that the protection of human rights was primarily a domestic concern” The war made it clear that human rights is a universal concern and that there was a need for the international community to protect and uphold these rights. In order to keep the peace among the nations, the United Nations (UN) was established (1945). In 1946, the Commission on Human Rights was established by the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC). It took more than two years for the commission to come up with a document that articulated the fundamental and inalienable rights of all people that all nations involved agreed to. By 1948, the draft declaration, which the commission had worked on, was proposed to the members of the UN. The debates continued throughout the year in the General Assembly’s Third Committee. On 10 December 1948, the General Assembly adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
Forty-eight nations voted for the declaration, eight abstained and two were not present during the vote. Of course, the global community welcomed this document because it articulated the basic rights and needs of each individual. I mean, who could say no to human rights and human dignity (openly that is)? What sucks is that the carnage that took place during the war was what was needed in order to emphasize the need to protect the rights of the people.
I’m exaggerating. I would like to believe that war was not needed to recognize the rights of people – but it definitely pushed the international community to articulate it and safeguard what should have been quite obvious in the first place.
The Preamble.
The preamble states the main idea of the declaration – that the international body recognizes the inherent dignity of each person and the equal, inalienable rights of all individuals. It articulates the importance of the declaration, noting that the recognition of this dignity and these rights is the “foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world”.
Inherent. Inalienable. Such big words. The first few words in the preamble are enough to make blood flow from the ears and noses of anyone who will give the document the time of day. These words are easily skipped, heck, the preamble is easily skipped – as most human rights groups go straight to the meat of the document which lists the specific rights.
One should never underestimate the importance of the introduction though. It sets the tone and the framework of the people who drafted the document. It gives the lens that is needed to view UDHR.
Inherent dignity of each person – obviously, we aren’t just talking about pride or some superficial worth here. Each person, because he or she is human, is valuable. It is natural. It is innate. It is your Being, your humanity, ang iyong pagkatao – not affected or altered by any variables that could make you different from other people. Each person has dignity because he is human. This can go on in philosophical debate – but I will not even attempt to go there because I’m not really supposed to be typing this in the first place. I’m supposed to be studying for statistics. Regardless, because of the trafficking paper I just finished, I am somewhat on a human rights roll. So I shall continue.
Human dignity is the foundation of human rights.
And it is because of this natural worth, that we recognize the inalienable rights of individuals. There is a distinction between dignity and rights – and it drives me up the wall when people interchange it. The very reason why we recognize ones rights is because we see their worth as people. Human dignity begets human rights – and not the other way around.
I remember one of my trainees asking me if a poor person who begs in the street has dignity.
If one defines it as pride or that superficial worth that we were talking about earlier (and yes, I know this is the language used by groups like Gawad Kalinga… “restoring the dignity” and all that) – we can probably say no. But if defined as his/her worth as a person – then dear God, yes. It is because we see the humanity in this person, regardless of color, cleanliness, and economic status that we can say yes, he has dignity – and it is because of that, that we are appalled by the situation he is in. Because we know that all people are above that. If a person does not have a roof over his head, food for his family or a voice in his country – it does not mean he is worth nothing, it just means his worth is not recognized enough.
And so the preamble continues… it is in recognition of this dignity and rights that we can build a peaceful and just society. It reduces the problems of the world and all the human rights abuses to - if you can see the humanity in the Other, then we will all be happy, well-fed and all that jazz.
Recognition of Humanity.
Last weekend for Socio 203 (Researching International Migration), in line with our discussion on refugees, our professor made the class watch Hotel Rwanda. I’ve watched this film more than ten times and have memorized the critical parts in which I should close my eyes or escape to the bathroom. That night, to take my mind off school and work, I got the first book I saw in the library “The Lord of the Flies”. Big mistake. I barely reached the middle when I figured out where it was leading to. Stress. It was “Life of Pi” all over again. The next day, CNN had “Scream Bloody Murder” – and of course Mikey and I watched. The whole weekend was like the antithesis of what we’re supposed to be celebrating today.
People seen as vermin, cockroaches or worms – brutally murdered because they are different. Closer to home, Patricia Evangelista has been writing about the political killings and the abuse that students, community workers and journalists have endured – not because they aren’t seen as human – but because they are stopping someone who wants to be superhuman.
The UDHR exposed what people have known all along – but have conveniently forgotten. Sixty years later, the world is a different place – no longer rocked by World War II but definitely unstable because of the financial crisis. One would think we’re better off, and perhaps in many ways we are, but I cannot help but wonder why we have failed to learn the simple lesson of recognizing the humanity of the other? Genocides happening in our lifetime – it’s just plain wild. Perhaps calloused by the gruesome images of war and hunger that are perpetually being shown on the news, people turn a blind eye. It’s somebody else’s life, somebody else’s problem. Human rights has once again become a domestic affair. My rights. My life. My freedom. If it does not encroach on my liberty, then we’re good.
Agh.
Freedom.
And this brings us to my last point – because I really should start doing statistics problems – I hate how human rights has become all about “me”. It has taken Isaiah Berlin’s “Freedom to” and Freedom from” way too seriously. When the UDHR was drafted, the concern of the bigwig states was really one of security – the “smaller” countries (Latin America and yes, the Philippines, represented by Carlos P. Romulo) made their voices heard and the concept of social justice was thrown in the ring. This obsession with we should be free to do whatever we want is a dangerous thing and counters the freedom which I believe is the true spirit behind the UDHR.
I believe that the inherent dignity that is talked about, and which is constantly being used and abused by people who want some piece of legislation passed, is really talking about freedom. What sets us apart from other living beings is this freedom and consciousness in everything that we do. There is this recognition of what is right and what is wrong and what we know is rightfully ours as people – and this is conveniently listed in the UDHR.
The UDHR is a morally binding document – and although I can pretend that it is because moral fiber ought to be stronger than mere legalities – I have to admit that it is because of practicality that our beloved document made it through with the votes. But I guess it is better that way (and well, we have our own national legislation supposedly keeping people in place or in jail). The UDHR with its beautifully articulated rights is really a painful reminder that Men, though free to choose to do what is right, have continued to choose otherwise. And to those who are disturbed – then good, you are not yet jaded by the happenings in our world. The next question is - what will you do with that moral burden?
Me – I will study for statistics.
On one hand, one would think how simple it should have been to list down all the things a person deserved and ought to have in his/her lifetime, and that it would be just as simple to list the things that one should not do to a fellow human being. On the other hand, if it were that simple to recognize the dos and don’ts of human nature, then it should have followed that the “do not dos” would not ever have happened. It also wouldn’t have taken the commission two years to draft.
War as a Necessity?
Sixty years ago today, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted by the international community. Shaken by the atrocities of World War II, the world finally decided that something should be done. “The Holocaust altered forever the way in which people considered human rights. Prior to World War II the prevalent attitude had been that the protection of human rights was primarily a domestic concern” The war made it clear that human rights is a universal concern and that there was a need for the international community to protect and uphold these rights. In order to keep the peace among the nations, the United Nations (UN) was established (1945). In 1946, the Commission on Human Rights was established by the Economic and Social Council (ECOSOC). It took more than two years for the commission to come up with a document that articulated the fundamental and inalienable rights of all people that all nations involved agreed to. By 1948, the draft declaration, which the commission had worked on, was proposed to the members of the UN. The debates continued throughout the year in the General Assembly’s Third Committee. On 10 December 1948, the General Assembly adopted the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
Forty-eight nations voted for the declaration, eight abstained and two were not present during the vote. Of course, the global community welcomed this document because it articulated the basic rights and needs of each individual. I mean, who could say no to human rights and human dignity (openly that is)? What sucks is that the carnage that took place during the war was what was needed in order to emphasize the need to protect the rights of the people.
I’m exaggerating. I would like to believe that war was not needed to recognize the rights of people – but it definitely pushed the international community to articulate it and safeguard what should have been quite obvious in the first place.
The Preamble.
The preamble states the main idea of the declaration – that the international body recognizes the inherent dignity of each person and the equal, inalienable rights of all individuals. It articulates the importance of the declaration, noting that the recognition of this dignity and these rights is the “foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world”.
Inherent. Inalienable. Such big words. The first few words in the preamble are enough to make blood flow from the ears and noses of anyone who will give the document the time of day. These words are easily skipped, heck, the preamble is easily skipped – as most human rights groups go straight to the meat of the document which lists the specific rights.
One should never underestimate the importance of the introduction though. It sets the tone and the framework of the people who drafted the document. It gives the lens that is needed to view UDHR.
Inherent dignity of each person – obviously, we aren’t just talking about pride or some superficial worth here. Each person, because he or she is human, is valuable. It is natural. It is innate. It is your Being, your humanity, ang iyong pagkatao – not affected or altered by any variables that could make you different from other people. Each person has dignity because he is human. This can go on in philosophical debate – but I will not even attempt to go there because I’m not really supposed to be typing this in the first place. I’m supposed to be studying for statistics. Regardless, because of the trafficking paper I just finished, I am somewhat on a human rights roll. So I shall continue.
Human dignity is the foundation of human rights.
And it is because of this natural worth, that we recognize the inalienable rights of individuals. There is a distinction between dignity and rights – and it drives me up the wall when people interchange it. The very reason why we recognize ones rights is because we see their worth as people. Human dignity begets human rights – and not the other way around.
I remember one of my trainees asking me if a poor person who begs in the street has dignity.
If one defines it as pride or that superficial worth that we were talking about earlier (and yes, I know this is the language used by groups like Gawad Kalinga… “restoring the dignity” and all that) – we can probably say no. But if defined as his/her worth as a person – then dear God, yes. It is because we see the humanity in this person, regardless of color, cleanliness, and economic status that we can say yes, he has dignity – and it is because of that, that we are appalled by the situation he is in. Because we know that all people are above that. If a person does not have a roof over his head, food for his family or a voice in his country – it does not mean he is worth nothing, it just means his worth is not recognized enough.
And so the preamble continues… it is in recognition of this dignity and rights that we can build a peaceful and just society. It reduces the problems of the world and all the human rights abuses to - if you can see the humanity in the Other, then we will all be happy, well-fed and all that jazz.
Recognition of Humanity.
Last weekend for Socio 203 (Researching International Migration), in line with our discussion on refugees, our professor made the class watch Hotel Rwanda. I’ve watched this film more than ten times and have memorized the critical parts in which I should close my eyes or escape to the bathroom. That night, to take my mind off school and work, I got the first book I saw in the library “The Lord of the Flies”. Big mistake. I barely reached the middle when I figured out where it was leading to. Stress. It was “Life of Pi” all over again. The next day, CNN had “Scream Bloody Murder” – and of course Mikey and I watched. The whole weekend was like the antithesis of what we’re supposed to be celebrating today.
People seen as vermin, cockroaches or worms – brutally murdered because they are different. Closer to home, Patricia Evangelista has been writing about the political killings and the abuse that students, community workers and journalists have endured – not because they aren’t seen as human – but because they are stopping someone who wants to be superhuman.
The UDHR exposed what people have known all along – but have conveniently forgotten. Sixty years later, the world is a different place – no longer rocked by World War II but definitely unstable because of the financial crisis. One would think we’re better off, and perhaps in many ways we are, but I cannot help but wonder why we have failed to learn the simple lesson of recognizing the humanity of the other? Genocides happening in our lifetime – it’s just plain wild. Perhaps calloused by the gruesome images of war and hunger that are perpetually being shown on the news, people turn a blind eye. It’s somebody else’s life, somebody else’s problem. Human rights has once again become a domestic affair. My rights. My life. My freedom. If it does not encroach on my liberty, then we’re good.
Agh.
Freedom.
And this brings us to my last point – because I really should start doing statistics problems – I hate how human rights has become all about “me”. It has taken Isaiah Berlin’s “Freedom to” and Freedom from” way too seriously. When the UDHR was drafted, the concern of the bigwig states was really one of security – the “smaller” countries (Latin America and yes, the Philippines, represented by Carlos P. Romulo) made their voices heard and the concept of social justice was thrown in the ring. This obsession with we should be free to do whatever we want is a dangerous thing and counters the freedom which I believe is the true spirit behind the UDHR.
I believe that the inherent dignity that is talked about, and which is constantly being used and abused by people who want some piece of legislation passed, is really talking about freedom. What sets us apart from other living beings is this freedom and consciousness in everything that we do. There is this recognition of what is right and what is wrong and what we know is rightfully ours as people – and this is conveniently listed in the UDHR.
The UDHR is a morally binding document – and although I can pretend that it is because moral fiber ought to be stronger than mere legalities – I have to admit that it is because of practicality that our beloved document made it through with the votes. But I guess it is better that way (and well, we have our own national legislation supposedly keeping people in place or in jail). The UDHR with its beautifully articulated rights is really a painful reminder that Men, though free to choose to do what is right, have continued to choose otherwise. And to those who are disturbed – then good, you are not yet jaded by the happenings in our world. The next question is - what will you do with that moral burden?
Me – I will study for statistics.
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