We found ourselves staying up or waking up way past midnight to watch that chimney smoke turn white, and await with hopeful suspense the emergence of the new pope on the balcony. Why give up or interrupt sleep (or K/C-drama binge-watching) for it?
Suddenly—or at least in a sudden palpable manner—why is humankind interested in the successor of Peter, in the head of the Catholic Church?
Was it because we have become consumers-in-24/7 captivity of social media? That we simply have to click and watch the video and the threads? That we couldn’t stand an unopened post on our phone?
Pope Francis lying in state (Photo from Vatican Media/PA)
There was no doubt that the liturgical splendor and solemnity of the rites—from the funeral Mass and procession for the beloved Pope Francis, to the election of the 267th pope—were more than enough to keep us glued to the moment. However, that moment went beyond the visual hold of the medium and social media. Rather, it went to our core: why we were in grief over the loss of a good man. Pope Francis. The People’s Pope. The humble shepherd who guided his flock, each of them, regardless of race and gender. The Missionary Pope who broke boundaries of geography, politics, and even religion to be able to speak up on issues that gripped the world. The Easter Pope who blessed and bade his flock goodbye on Easter Sunday, feeble as he was on his chair, and conveyed renewal and hope. He left the world the promise of rebirth.
In a matter of days, we were in jubilation over the election of another good man. Pope Leo XIV. The American-born man of the cloth who has spent most of his life outside the First World, to be with people from the peripheries. Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost is a theologian, a scholar, a missionary, a leader of the Augustinian Order, a seasoned official in the Vatican—all of the above. However, he is no media native, he’s actually been described as reserved, even reticent.
Seeing those eyes about to brim with tears as he stood on the balcony again touched us. We felt hope. Not only for the Church. But also for the world. For ourselves. Here is another good man who relates to us beyond religion and ritual.
‘…. (Hope does not disappoint.) Yan ang slogan ng Jubilee 2025’
So we stayed up for him. A post in my group chat: “Na-stress ako sa election sa Monday. Kaya ang new Pope na lang ang iisipin ko….We stayed up all night because we needed hope. The Pope is Hope. Spes non confundit. (Hope does not disappoint.) Yan ang slogan ng Jubilee 2025. And it came to fruition in the person of Robert Prevost last night.”
Our attempt to escape the here and now? Our distraction from our own burdens? Perhaps. But nonetheless it remains an uplifting feeling.
To us, Pope Francis and his successor stand for hope in this world so messy. They stand for the good in humanity in a world taken over by demagogues, leaders rotten to the core.
We look at the pontiff who stands on the balcony from where we are rooted on the ground, on the eve of Philippine midterm elections. The two popes remind us what it’s like to be led by good men, whether that is merely symbolic or not; what it’s like to believe truth, not fake news. And they’re not AI.
How ironic that the death of the pope and the subsequent selection of his successor happened right before the Philippine elections that merely serve to remind us what sucks about humanity. What a contrast of vision: one of hope, the other of muck.
It doesn’t matter if the feeling of hope is mere illusion; the point is, it is hope that sustains our faith in man, if not in God.
The elections in this stronghold of Catholicism in the region project the Philippines at what must be its lowest point—if the candidates for the Senate, Congress and local elections are to be the gauge. Bearing witness to the death and selection of the pope, we felt elation. Seeing the candidates topping the surveys, we feel… Eew. Gross.
The scene is medieval fiefdom, where jesters keep the crowd captive, and the political dynasties keep people enslaved. Education is getting to be a more and more unreachable goal in the country; ayuda is the present and the future.
You ask yourself: How do you balance your love of country with your disdain for its politicians?
The citizen in you seems to be on autopilot.
You will vote. Choose the last good men—and women—standing. Kahit 1 or 2 lang!
