| Deliverance
Conrado de Quiros
Philippine Daily Inquirer April 20, 2011
THE STORY went the rounds of the social media last week. I thought someone would come out and say the story was fiction, a parable invented to suit the times and soothe the soul and became flesh and blood from the retelling. Journalism and age have made me a little wary of things that are too good to be true. But as it turns out, this is one too good to be true that happens to be true. The story was in the form of a letter a Vietnamese immigrant in Japan sent his friend back home. The Vietnamese, Ha Minh Thanh, worked as a cop in Fukushima, the epicenter of the tsunami that hit Japan in the wake of the powerful earthquake. The depth of devastation was a sight to behold, or cringe from. "When I close my eyes," Ha said, "I see dead bodies. When I open my eyes, I also see dead bodies." But amid the desolation, he saw this: "Last night, I was sent to a little grammar school to help a charity organization distribute food to the refugees. It was a long line that snaked this way and that and I saw a little boy around 9 years old. He was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. "It was getting very cold and the boy was at the very end of the line. I was worried that by the time his turn came there wouldn't be any food left. So I spoke to him. He said he was at school when the earthquake happened. His father worked nearby and was driving to the school. The boy was on the third floor balcony when he saw the tsunami sweep his father's car away. "He said his house is right by the beach and that his mother and little sister probably didn't make it. He turned his head and wiped his tears when I asked about his relatives. "The boy was shivering so I took off my police jacket and put it on him. That's when my bag of food ration fell out. I picked it up and gave it to him. 'When it comes to your turn, they might run out of food. So here's my portion. I already ate. Why don't you eat it?' "The boy took my food and bowed. I thought he would eat it right away, but he didn't. He took the bag of food, went up to where the line ended and put it where all the food was waiting to be distributed. "I was shocked. I asked him why he didn't eat it and instead added it to the food pile. He answered: 'Because I see a lot more people hungrier than I am. If I put it there, then they will distribute the food equally.' "When I heard that I turned away so that people wouldn't see me cry. "A society that can produce a 9-year-old who understands the concept of sacrifice for the greater good must be a great society, a great people." What makes this observation more precious is that a Vietnamese has made it. Vietnam too was a flattened country not too long ago, its forests scorched by napalm and its plains littered by the bodies of the dead. I remember a Vietnamese telling me once that he did not know of any Vietnamese family that hadn't lost a loved one in the War. It is a people that understand the concept of sacrifice for the greater good. It is a great society, it is a great people. For someone who has gone through that to marvel at the grandness of spirit shown by the 9-year-old Japanese boy, it takes the breath away. You realize that what makes countries like Japan and Vietnam tower over us is not the might of their technology or military, it is the strength of their spirit. Some of the comments in my e-mail compared this with the Jan-Jan affair, marveling at the chasm between the way Japanese raised their kids and the way we did. They had a point. You have to wonder what kind of values we are instilling in our kids with Willie Revillame to guide them. A point made all the more urgent by TV 5 flying to his aid: While countries like Japan are telling their kids that anything less than the loftiest heights is not enough, we are telling our kids that anything more than the absolute pits will do. I was already awed when the "Faceless 50" or "Nameless 50" volunteered to stay behind at the nuclear plants, braving levels of radiation five times what was considered safe for workers in the United States, to stave off a nuclear holocaust that would devastate neighboring places. The number of the faceless or nameless swiftly rose to the hundreds. This is behavior we are not likely to see here. And yet the Japanese do it so spontaneously, reflexively, instinctively. You truly have to wonder at the way they were brought up and the way we were. The Japanese—and Vietnamese—are not Christians, yet they show more Christian charity than we do. Certainly, they show a capacity for self-sacrifice more than we do. Forget even that, they show a capacity to see beyond themselves, or a capacity to see others, more than we do. Which is what the Cross is supposed to represent. Our own version of Christianity has only taught us selfishness. The very purpose of living an upright life, or a facsimile thereof—there are always the sacraments to wipe off sin—is to save ourselves, or our souls from the burning fires of hell. On the occasions we are compelled to, we part with land, with money, with children (for the priesthood) to buy a berth in heaven—but never up to the point that it becomes painful or inconvenient. We do not do things for others or sacrifice for others (other than family) simply because it is the right thing to do, because it is the only thing to do. Because, despite our desolation, there are others more desolate. Because, despite our loss, there are others who lost more. Because, despite our hunger, there are others hungrier. A thing to ponder over the next few days. You look at the 9-year-old Japanese boy who gave despite having lost everything, you have to ask yourself who is more likely to rise again, he or us. You have to ask yourself who is likely to be saved, he or us. 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