When politics become unbearably funny, there is a parallel world that tilts the balance for me. While the surveys showed a reassuring lead for my favorite candidate last Month, I was writing the final chapter for my grad school thesis—some crazy paper on Cebuano poetry. Not the sort that redefines molecular activity, but definitely a saner refuge from a world full of freestylers claiming to have swam in rubbish. In a world going lazy about reading, my paper nitpicks pocket universes tucked in the verses of our own poets. Again, it isn’t the sort that buys me a ticket to China or something.
I won’t bore you with details about my thesis, no. But picture that mindset when the Holy Week put to a halt a life given to feigning intelligence. I tried to avoid writing anything about faith and religion last week. Given my wayward ways, poetry and noodles more or less define my parameters.
But the solemn week caught me off-guard. Bombarded round-the-clock by biblical allusions on TV, a thought came up.
Given the ways His “good news” still spread like wildfire through the centuries, Jesus Christ must’ve been one with a superb PR savvy. Certainly, it mustn’t be the truthfulness and universality of what he preached alone that helped His Word survive the times. Christ must’ve understood the public sphere and how to weave His Word across it. This is probably why His favorite instruction was, “Spread the good news” at a time when word of mouth addressed effectively what will today be called the “mass media.” With an approval rating surging to an all-time spike, His fame was a threat contrasting against an empire losing its mystique. He was a PR threat, and each time He did His stunt with yet another bread-multiplying miracle, it hurt the ears of the establishment.
I have yet to know if He ever performed a miracle without the crowd. I’ll leave that to friends to tell you. When He multiplied bread and fish for the throng that came to listen to Him, He knew it was maximum exposure for his Word. By so doing, He did not only multiply grub, but He splintered his Word in exponential forms. Those guys will be scampering home carrying the most amusing story to tell their neighbors and friends.
He did not only know how to send the message out. He was a storyteller with a talent for symbols. When he rolled his sleeves and started washing the feet of his disciples, He knew exactly how the word will go about humility when it’ll be the disciples’ turn to tell their tale. His ways were never lavish and extravagant, and any marketing guy today understands what “mixed branding” is—and Christ was just one image and Word. I’m not even talking about “lifestyle” yet.
I don’t know if thinking along that line borders on being sacrilegious or what. Really, what could I do? I had a good sleep last week. I think Christ was thoroughly modern in His understanding of media and communications, which is, of course, not quite a stunning piece of information given the magnitude of His greatness and the centuries of free and massive publicity, the Bible being a timeless newspaper. I know, I know, I was just tempted to say what you already know.
In today’s politics, lifting a clueless child or embracing an elderly in the presence of reporters and photographers is usual staple. It’s playing Messiah at the hint of a photo opportunity. But it reminds me of a famous line in a classic Filipino film, perfectly gushed forth by an emphatic Nora Aunor, “Walang himala!” Not even billions in campaign expenditure can perform miracles for you. Happy Easter, everyone.
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