THROUGH UNTRUE

Media reports about the grim consequences of a disaster, like typhoon Odette, often show the forlorn faces of survivors, desperately pleading for help, or mournfully staring at the wreckage of their homes, hopes, and dreams. The media usually ignore how survivors squeeze humor out of tragedy.

Filipinos are known to laugh while life hurts. I am not saying that Filipinos like to suffer. Like all human beings, we instinctively recoil and squirm from every prospect of pain or misfortune. Losing loved ones or one's livelihood cuts at the very core of our being, and the wounds often take time to heal completely.

But we Filipinos seem to be blessed with the ability to add levity to the direst of situations. It is spiritually uplifting to see typhoon Odette's victims smile as they retrieve hope amidst the desolation that engulfed them. For sure, the smile must have come from their stubborn determination not to allow bad luck to have the last say.

For instance, when a reporter asked two survivors why they wore slippers with sizes and colors that did not match, they said giggling: “We just picked these from the debris. These must have belonged to those who died. These slippers prove that no matter how poor and destitute a person, God will see to it that he will leave something behind that can benefit others.”

When asked why she was smiling as she stared at the ruins of her once-beautiful house, a woman replied: "A while ago, a neighbor came and asked: 'Have you eaten? My wife prepared a meal. It is not much, but you can join us.' I cannot help but smile at the irony of my situation. My hard-earned resources have proved useless during the typhoon. My credit cards and cash could not buy me a lifeline, and my big house could not shelter me. I have worked too hard for things that matter too little. God sent my neighbor to remind me that friendship, sharing, and love are more important than things money can buy."

One TV broadcast showed a young mother looking at the body of her dead husband while it was being prepared for burial. She told the reporter. “My daughter is all I have now. When she saw me crying she told me: ‘Mama, don’t cry. Papa is gone, but God will never leave us.’ Her words remind me that in life, what matters most is not what was lost, but what remains.”

Finally, a man was asked whether he still prayed to God after the typhoon. He replied: “Yes. But I pray differently now. I used to pray for wishbones that would bring me luck and success. Now I pray for a strong backbone so I can withstand every unexpected misfortune. God is not a crutch. He does not want me to always kneel in supplication, but to stand up and be a man, make decisions, and act on these even amidst great difficulties."

It is terribly challenging to keep our humanity and dignity intact when unexpected tragedy visits us. We do not know what will happen in 2022. Will the pandemic get worse? How many calamities will ravage our country?

Will our economy improve or continue to spiral downwards?

Will the forthcoming elections bring about the changes we so sorely need? But as those typhoon victims have shown us, we can fight our way out of life's dark alleys because of one human resource, our best resource, in fact — our faith in God, even if His actions (or non-action) are often at variance with our expectations. It is this faith that allows us to retrieve the redemptive possibilities of being human.