Let's start the year right with Nicholas Brodsky's I'll Walk With God, interpreted splendidly by the up-and-coming tenor Stephen Costello (Marc, this is more Broadway and West End, not La Scala, so you will like this).
*watch here*
Friday, December 29, 2006
Melanisms
Let’s end the year with a loud bang, courtesy of Miss International titlist Melanie Marquez.
“My brother is not…a book”….and other equally famous quotes:
“I couldn’t care a damn”—(Oo nga)
“What’s your next class before this”—(wait lang…. ok, I get it…No, I don’t)
Can you repeat that for the second time around once more from the top—(nahilo ako. Ano nga uli?)
Don’t touch me not—(ano ba talaga?)
Hello? For a while, please hang yourself-- (*ties telephone cord around neck*)
You! You’re not a man anymore, you’re a boy anymore-- (ang gulo!)
Come, let’s join us-- (uhm, teka. ok)
Hello? My brother is out-of-town. Would you like to wait?-- (grabeh naman)
And of course, that Mare and Pare episode where she defended Joey Marquez, her brother and former Mayor: "Do not judge my brother for he is not a book!
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Soltero Todavia, Porque?
2007 is fast approaching, and boy oh boy, I sure am not getting any younger. And as sure as the day is long, the big question in everybody’s mind gains even more resonance: “when are you getting married?”, “why aren’t you married yet?” which leads to the inevitable: “what’s wrong with you?”
My family hails from a small village or barrio and as such, the tiniest personal details become fodder for conversation during balmy evenings after farm work.
“In God’s time” is my sure-fire and ready answer. Humor is also an effective way of deflecting the issue away.
My mom smiles somewhat sheepishly but the worried look on her face is unmistakable: it speaks volumes!
I will not be hurried. The right person will come along, sooner or later.
Oh, by the way, at least now with Christmas over (not yet in the Philippines, however), nuisance carolers have stopped serenading my house. Their joyless renditions-- ya know, singing carols rapidly on a single flat note in 15-20 seconds, before the customary “We wish you a merry Christmas” which is just an unmistakable signal for you to hand out the money-- really take away the spirit of the season.
HAPPY NEW YEAR! GONG XI FA CHAI!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
National Circus
Johnny Bravo told me he’s been watching the movies currently comprising the Metro Manila Film Festival entries. He used to be a bit player on TV appearing as the rich boss, or the officemate, or the neighbor on ABS-CBN and GMA drama programs. He didn’t really make it to the big-time mainstream roles, though. The last time I watched a Tagalog drama series was in 2002 with “Pangako sa Puso” (Promise of the Heart) because I wanted to find out if he were any good, I didn’t give a hoot about the story. Before this, I patronized the tear-jerkers Flordeluna-Analiza (well, everybody did in the eighties).
Anyway, he is spewing toxic fumes after watching Shake, Rattle and Roll part 8. “It’s garbage, really. A complete waste of time and money” he belatedly rues. The mere fact that it’s on its 8th installment should have been a clear warning isn’t it? A piece of crap. It’s like the Police Academy franchise in the 80’s, very much like a curse.
The movie starring Senator Lito Lapid and his family is also a clear waste of money. Even the trailers look awful. I distinctly remember one scene Lito Lapid did I think in the 80s where in he intercepted a speeding bullet (traveling at probably the speed of sound) meant for him and cut it in half with a knife or something! Ack!
Which brings me to the current MMFF entries. In other countries, a “film festival” connotes quality. Here, it reeks of blatant commercialism. The purpose of the film festival, which requires all movie theaters to only show Filipino-made films during the festival run, was really to encourage the development of quality movies by giving such huge incentives (monopoly, tax rebates, etc). Unfortunately, local producers simply took advantage of this and used it as a venue to rake in more money.
You want to support Filipino movies. In the end, you slink away and go back to watching Hollywood.
Anyway, he is spewing toxic fumes after watching Shake, Rattle and Roll part 8. “It’s garbage, really. A complete waste of time and money” he belatedly rues. The mere fact that it’s on its 8th installment should have been a clear warning isn’t it? A piece of crap. It’s like the Police Academy franchise in the 80’s, very much like a curse.
The movie starring Senator Lito Lapid and his family is also a clear waste of money. Even the trailers look awful. I distinctly remember one scene Lito Lapid did I think in the 80s where in he intercepted a speeding bullet (traveling at probably the speed of sound) meant for him and cut it in half with a knife or something! Ack!
Which brings me to the current MMFF entries. In other countries, a “film festival” connotes quality. Here, it reeks of blatant commercialism. The purpose of the film festival, which requires all movie theaters to only show Filipino-made films during the festival run, was really to encourage the development of quality movies by giving such huge incentives (monopoly, tax rebates, etc). Unfortunately, local producers simply took advantage of this and used it as a venue to rake in more money.
You want to support Filipino movies. In the end, you slink away and go back to watching Hollywood.
Territorial Intrusion
I'm sooo like watching a live feature on the Animal Planet unfolding outside my bedroom window overlooking the garage, right now. The White siblings (I call the fatter one Little Polar Bear because he's starting to resemble one) are fending off an intrusion from Orangey (he's the cat equivalent of a carrot top) who's trying to establish himself within the siblings territory. They've been hounding and harassing the poor guy the past hour or so, but apparently the siblings's fierce tactics do not intimidate him at all. The problem with the siblings, especially Little Polar Bear, is that they're too fat to put up a fight.
Hey, as long as they poo somewhere else and drive the mice away, I have no problem with them.
Hey, as long as they poo somewhere else and drive the mice away, I have no problem with them.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Christmas in the Highlands
In grade school, I dreaded Kris Kringle, you know, the gift-exchange portion of any Christmas Party, mainly because half the time, I already knew what I was going to receive: another handkerchief. In fact, I lost count of the number of Christmases I got them. I was sooo tempted back then to suggest to my teacher to impose a “no hanky” policy, which of course I never got to do. To even the score, I lost count of the number of times I gave out handkerchiefs myself.
Some kids resent receiving underwear briefs; they consider it insulting and simply not proper. I actually saw one drop his underwear gift out the window. Personally, I didn’t really mind, as long as it was my size.
It was also de rigueur to attend the annual party in brand new clothes, preferably in the latest fashion. And it was considered cool if it was bought from the city, in Cagayan de Oro, from either Gaisano or Ororama. Bonus points if you had a relative from the States, Manila or Cebu who sent you the shirt or shoes you were wearing.
Wearing something from the local cooperative in Camp Phillips was way un-cool because everybody knew you bought it through credit. And that means the family may have fallen on hard times.
It was also considered a crime to wear something from Memen Lopez’s variety store in the nearby Agusan Canyon, because every Sunday after Mass, every kid making his way to the weekly flea-market never fail to pass by the display windows showcasing the in-house tailor’s latest creations. If you wear those, everybody in school would immediately know where you bought it. And besides, only barrio folks from far-flung areas patronize Memen Lopez’s creations. Yes, we kids were an elitist lot.
When you’re nine or ten years old, blasting firecrackers seemed like a rite of passage. My brother and I, as well as our cousins all resented the fact that we were still made to blow horns made of paper material called torotot during New Year’s celebration rather than the usual “triangle” and “whistle bomb” of the older kids in the neighborhood.
The adults would fashion “cannons” from hollow bamboo poles and that metal thing with feathers that you throw upwards and which gives out a loud explosion when it hits the ground. I found it extremely dangerous, because kids who have no sense of direction and weak throwing power can send the blasted thing right in your direction before you can even run and cover your ears.
Since our parents vehemently refused to allow us to even go near these firecrackers, we had to create our own fire crackers. My brother devised what we called a “duslit bomb” (duslit- a Cebuano term for striking a match). We simply scraped the phosphorus off the matchsticks onto a piece of paper the size of a candy wrapper, wrapped it tightly with scotch tape and attached a small string.
The verdict: Oh, yes it exploded. But honestly, our farts sounded louder.
Christmas officially begins right after All Saints Day, when people deck their homes with lights and decors, hang lanterns and make plans for all sorts of contests: lantern, belen (nativity scenes), amateur singing, tableauxs and the most eagerly awaited, carol singing.
You wouldn’t believe the number of reunions taking place: grade school, high school, civic groups, sports circles.
The excitement of Christmas rises to fever pitch during the midnight masses on the 24th and the 31st. The whole community assembles in the parish church and it transforms into a big social event. Your seatmate in grade one who kept on picking her nose suddenly makes her entrance in high heels and heavy make-up.
The kid you wrestled on the ground one time now wears a neck-tie beneath his sweater, as if he were enrolled in an Ivy League College.
When the clock strikes midnight, the church bells start ringing, my father, from his helm in front of the choir, strikes the opening chords of Lucio San Pedro’s magnificent Simbang Gabi in the organ, amidst the deafening noise of “whistle bombs”, kwitis, pla-pla, sawa, all imaginable firecracker known to mankind, blasting off at the same time, or one after another, as we celebrate Christmas as one community.
¡FELIZ NAVIDAD Á TÒDOS!!
Some kids resent receiving underwear briefs; they consider it insulting and simply not proper. I actually saw one drop his underwear gift out the window. Personally, I didn’t really mind, as long as it was my size.
It was also de rigueur to attend the annual party in brand new clothes, preferably in the latest fashion. And it was considered cool if it was bought from the city, in Cagayan de Oro, from either Gaisano or Ororama. Bonus points if you had a relative from the States, Manila or Cebu who sent you the shirt or shoes you were wearing.
Wearing something from the local cooperative in Camp Phillips was way un-cool because everybody knew you bought it through credit. And that means the family may have fallen on hard times.
It was also considered a crime to wear something from Memen Lopez’s variety store in the nearby Agusan Canyon, because every Sunday after Mass, every kid making his way to the weekly flea-market never fail to pass by the display windows showcasing the in-house tailor’s latest creations. If you wear those, everybody in school would immediately know where you bought it. And besides, only barrio folks from far-flung areas patronize Memen Lopez’s creations. Yes, we kids were an elitist lot.
When you’re nine or ten years old, blasting firecrackers seemed like a rite of passage. My brother and I, as well as our cousins all resented the fact that we were still made to blow horns made of paper material called torotot during New Year’s celebration rather than the usual “triangle” and “whistle bomb” of the older kids in the neighborhood.
The adults would fashion “cannons” from hollow bamboo poles and that metal thing with feathers that you throw upwards and which gives out a loud explosion when it hits the ground. I found it extremely dangerous, because kids who have no sense of direction and weak throwing power can send the blasted thing right in your direction before you can even run and cover your ears.
Since our parents vehemently refused to allow us to even go near these firecrackers, we had to create our own fire crackers. My brother devised what we called a “duslit bomb” (duslit- a Cebuano term for striking a match). We simply scraped the phosphorus off the matchsticks onto a piece of paper the size of a candy wrapper, wrapped it tightly with scotch tape and attached a small string.
The verdict: Oh, yes it exploded. But honestly, our farts sounded louder.
Christmas officially begins right after All Saints Day, when people deck their homes with lights and decors, hang lanterns and make plans for all sorts of contests: lantern, belen (nativity scenes), amateur singing, tableauxs and the most eagerly awaited, carol singing.
You wouldn’t believe the number of reunions taking place: grade school, high school, civic groups, sports circles.
The excitement of Christmas rises to fever pitch during the midnight masses on the 24th and the 31st. The whole community assembles in the parish church and it transforms into a big social event. Your seatmate in grade one who kept on picking her nose suddenly makes her entrance in high heels and heavy make-up.
The kid you wrestled on the ground one time now wears a neck-tie beneath his sweater, as if he were enrolled in an Ivy League College.
When the clock strikes midnight, the church bells start ringing, my father, from his helm in front of the choir, strikes the opening chords of Lucio San Pedro’s magnificent Simbang Gabi in the organ, amidst the deafening noise of “whistle bombs”, kwitis, pla-pla, sawa, all imaginable firecracker known to mankind, blasting off at the same time, or one after another, as we celebrate Christmas as one community.
¡FELIZ NAVIDAD Á TÒDOS!!
Friday, December 22, 2006
BRITTEN: Albert Herring
ALBERT HERRING
Opera in 3 Acts by Benjamin BRITTEN
Text by Eric Crozier after Guy de Maupassant
Glyndebourne Festival Opera (1985)
Soloists of the London Philharmonic Orchestra
Conducted by Bernard Haitink
I finally watched my first British opera on DVD: Benjamin Britten’s Albert Herring. This opera, composed in the 1940’s and premiered at Glyndebourne, is the British’s attempt at carving their position in the world of opera, of which they are conspicuously not prominently represented. After Henry Purcell in the 15th century, no other English composer (other than the very minor reputation of John Gay) of musical renown comes to mind.
Unfortunately, the musical environment Britten found himself already eschews the old, florid styles of singing and orchestration of the Franco-Italo-Germanic vein which the musical world has come to embrace, with the advent of Schoenberg’s 12-tone school and the neo-classical styles of the Russians like Rimsky-Korsakov and Prokofiev in the early part of the 20th century. With contemporary works of Richard Strauss of the Wagnerian school and on the opposite end, Alban Berg of the revolutionary Schoenberg’s, does Britten stand a chance of being recognized at all in this opera?
Oh yes, to some extent, although I venture out to say he’s neither an innovator nor a fantastic musical colorist. The opera Albert Herring is extremely funny, but that is largely due to an excellent libretto by Eric Crozier, adapted from Guy de Maupassant’s Le Rosier de Madame Husson, rather than the music itself. It is a parody of life in a bygone England, and what a ride it is.
It is a tale about Albert Herring- gullible, naïve greengrocer lad who, much to his consternation, is made Village May King when the guardians of morality realized there are no longer girls with the necessary virtuous qualifications. Unfortunately, this came at a time when Albert no longer wished to be treated like a village idiot or some plastic saint because he’s missing all the fun by being a good boy all throughout his life. In other words, a wimp.
The children were particularly funny. I like the scene where the teacher, aptly named Miss Wordsworth, during the Coronation where Albert had to wear virginal white suit to symbolize his purity of heart, but which made him look like a fool, tried to make the children sing a welcome tribute. They kept on forgetting their lines, mispronouncing them (‘ale’ instead of ‘hail’, ‘halbert’ instead of ‘albert’), and reciting verses as if they were reading the ingredients from a cereal box.
The speeches I found extremely funny as well, especially the impassioned appeal for moral regeneration from the town’s rich patroness, Lady Billows. And of course Miss Wordsworth, who gave Albert a two-volume set of Fox’s Book of Martyrs “to be read during rainy afternoons”.
The music is extremely dull and hopelessly unmelodic. But then of course, most operas from this period aren’t any different. The fact that the recitative style decays into speech, it clearly mimics Claude Debussy’s Pelleas et Melisande, but without the ravishing and dream-like orchestration. This is unlike Francis Poulenc’s searingly dramatic Dialogues des Carmelites premiered at La Scala in the late 1950’s, a contemporary work.
Britten knows how to pick his material. But whether or not he is able to bring it to new heights through his music is another matter.
Opera in 3 Acts by Benjamin BRITTEN
Text by Eric Crozier after Guy de Maupassant
Glyndebourne Festival Opera (1985)
Soloists of the London Philharmonic Orchestra
Conducted by Bernard Haitink
I finally watched my first British opera on DVD: Benjamin Britten’s Albert Herring. This opera, composed in the 1940’s and premiered at Glyndebourne, is the British’s attempt at carving their position in the world of opera, of which they are conspicuously not prominently represented. After Henry Purcell in the 15th century, no other English composer (other than the very minor reputation of John Gay) of musical renown comes to mind.
Unfortunately, the musical environment Britten found himself already eschews the old, florid styles of singing and orchestration of the Franco-Italo-Germanic vein which the musical world has come to embrace, with the advent of Schoenberg’s 12-tone school and the neo-classical styles of the Russians like Rimsky-Korsakov and Prokofiev in the early part of the 20th century. With contemporary works of Richard Strauss of the Wagnerian school and on the opposite end, Alban Berg of the revolutionary Schoenberg’s, does Britten stand a chance of being recognized at all in this opera?
Oh yes, to some extent, although I venture out to say he’s neither an innovator nor a fantastic musical colorist. The opera Albert Herring is extremely funny, but that is largely due to an excellent libretto by Eric Crozier, adapted from Guy de Maupassant’s Le Rosier de Madame Husson, rather than the music itself. It is a parody of life in a bygone England, and what a ride it is.
It is a tale about Albert Herring- gullible, naïve greengrocer lad who, much to his consternation, is made Village May King when the guardians of morality realized there are no longer girls with the necessary virtuous qualifications. Unfortunately, this came at a time when Albert no longer wished to be treated like a village idiot or some plastic saint because he’s missing all the fun by being a good boy all throughout his life. In other words, a wimp.
The children were particularly funny. I like the scene where the teacher, aptly named Miss Wordsworth, during the Coronation where Albert had to wear virginal white suit to symbolize his purity of heart, but which made him look like a fool, tried to make the children sing a welcome tribute. They kept on forgetting their lines, mispronouncing them (‘ale’ instead of ‘hail’, ‘halbert’ instead of ‘albert’), and reciting verses as if they were reading the ingredients from a cereal box.
The speeches I found extremely funny as well, especially the impassioned appeal for moral regeneration from the town’s rich patroness, Lady Billows. And of course Miss Wordsworth, who gave Albert a two-volume set of Fox’s Book of Martyrs “to be read during rainy afternoons”.
The music is extremely dull and hopelessly unmelodic. But then of course, most operas from this period aren’t any different. The fact that the recitative style decays into speech, it clearly mimics Claude Debussy’s Pelleas et Melisande, but without the ravishing and dream-like orchestration. This is unlike Francis Poulenc’s searingly dramatic Dialogues des Carmelites premiered at La Scala in the late 1950’s, a contemporary work.
Britten knows how to pick his material. But whether or not he is able to bring it to new heights through his music is another matter.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Currency Controls
The Thai stock market plunged 17%+ today, the worst loss in 30 years, I heard, with the imposition of currency controls. The monetary authorities in Bangkok are putting a tight grip on the inflow and outflow of investment funds into the country. The Thai Central Bank implemented these draconian measures to rein in an appreciating baht and to ward off speculative attacks. To recall, speculation against the currency ushered in the Asian financial crisis way back in 1997 which reverberated across the region, resulting in bankruptcies and consequently, job losses.
This time, however, the scenario is a bit different. No massive devaluation took place (not yet anyway, it moved by only about 2%) which means interest rates remain stable. Only the equities market got burned. In addition, unlike in 1997, no domino effect on other South East Asian markets took place.
But in the medium to long-term, as investment funds from outside slow down (both direct and portfolio-based), there will be pressure for the baht to depreciate (defeating the purpose of stabilizing the currency), which will also be weighed down by rising interest rates, as listed companies will now increasingly turn to borrowings and rely less on equities to finance their working capital requirements and expansion plans.
With the Thai market becoming too unattractive to portfolio fund managers and investors, other stable markets in the region might benefit over the short-term.
The Philippine stock exchange recently averaged PhP2-3 billion in daily volumes, a good sign that foreign investors are upbeat about the general business conditions. The local bourse might benefit from funds exiting Bangkok and investors who got burned might want to recover some of the losses by dipping into the markets of KL, Jakarta, Singapore and Manila.
Expect market activity to perk up after the holidays.
This time, however, the scenario is a bit different. No massive devaluation took place (not yet anyway, it moved by only about 2%) which means interest rates remain stable. Only the equities market got burned. In addition, unlike in 1997, no domino effect on other South East Asian markets took place.
But in the medium to long-term, as investment funds from outside slow down (both direct and portfolio-based), there will be pressure for the baht to depreciate (defeating the purpose of stabilizing the currency), which will also be weighed down by rising interest rates, as listed companies will now increasingly turn to borrowings and rely less on equities to finance their working capital requirements and expansion plans.
With the Thai market becoming too unattractive to portfolio fund managers and investors, other stable markets in the region might benefit over the short-term.
The Philippine stock exchange recently averaged PhP2-3 billion in daily volumes, a good sign that foreign investors are upbeat about the general business conditions. The local bourse might benefit from funds exiting Bangkok and investors who got burned might want to recover some of the losses by dipping into the markets of KL, Jakarta, Singapore and Manila.
Expect market activity to perk up after the holidays.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Schumann Piano Concerto
Martha Argerich in Schumann's Piano Concerto in A, final movement: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sFYMXy2iFI
Good Tidings
My calendar was filled with lunch and dinner invitations last week (yes Ems, I have an active social life). Titus hopped over briefly from Dubai and had lunch with his former office colleagues (he wasn't an office colleague really, more like an honorary member but he knew everyone in Research because of me). He told us it wasn't easy getting used to working in such a strange land where Filipinos and other third world nationals are treated like fourth-class citizens. He's earning, my gad, probably four times as much as I do. Good for him. He even went on a back-packing tour of Turkey. He's learning to cook too, even bake. Apparently, Emiratis and other Arabs don't go for pastries and cakes because he had to make do with instant mixes.
Had dinner with Jun as well, recently arrived from Paris. He handed me Mozart's piano variations. Very cultured. Spent most of his week-ends hopping from one museum to another (yes, he saw the Mona Lisa at the Louvre) and attending musical soireés.
I expected him to be in crutches or with a cast. He wasn't. He looked normal, didn't notice any limp at all, although he's a size (or two) bigger. He tells me when he removes his shirt, the now pear-shaped contour of his body can be unflatteringly obvious. I can understand his enthusiasm to train for the mid-year full marathon.
Had to cancel one lunch invitation in far-away Parañaque. Have two more.
Had dinner with Jun as well, recently arrived from Paris. He handed me Mozart's piano variations. Very cultured. Spent most of his week-ends hopping from one museum to another (yes, he saw the Mona Lisa at the Louvre) and attending musical soireés.
I expected him to be in crutches or with a cast. He wasn't. He looked normal, didn't notice any limp at all, although he's a size (or two) bigger. He tells me when he removes his shirt, the now pear-shaped contour of his body can be unflatteringly obvious. I can understand his enthusiasm to train for the mid-year full marathon.
Had to cancel one lunch invitation in far-away Parañaque. Have two more.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Pedal Quest
I finally did it. I bought myself not a mountain bike, but a racer bike. Doc, who’s extremely knowledgeable about bicycle parts and the cycling sport in general (he recently competed in his first relay triathlon in Subic last December), assisted me in picking the parts for assembly in Cartimar, as well as in haggling for the lowest possible price.
Since I entertain illusions of competing in duathlons next year (swim-bike or run-bike race courses), I thought a racer bike would best fit my requirements for training. Doc is right, the pedal plates in a mountain bike are just too small compared to the racer type, while the body is considerably lighter as well.
Jun, on the other hand, who’s still recuperating from his biking accident in Fontainbleau, in le Republique Française, and who will be skipping dragon boat training in the meantime, is gunning for the mid-year Milo full marathon. I told him I’m not optimistic about the 42km race because running has always been my weakest event.
I plan to lessen my dragon boat involvement as well but will focus more on swimming (which I have neglected this year) and long-distance biking this coming 2007.
Fitness First representatives have been hounding me with mobile phone calls lately. I still do not have plans of working out in the gym. I’d rather run, row and bike outdoors, you know, toning my body the natural way.
Being physically fit and healthy have always been my top priority rather than looking good for its own sake. I am not narcissistic at all.
Thank God I got a new project from Singapore. Being a free-lancer isn’t always a comfortable position to be in. You’ll never know when your next project is coming along. I hope I get more projects next year.
The peso has gained considerable strength already (appreciating by more than 14%), from PhP56/US$ two years ago to PhP4$US by the end of this year. It does not bode well for me at all, as I am highly dependent on foreign projects. The only way for me to compensate the loss in purchasing power is to raise my volumes. Furthermore, if the peso continues to appreciate, I might be forced to look for a full-time job soon.
Since I entertain illusions of competing in duathlons next year (swim-bike or run-bike race courses), I thought a racer bike would best fit my requirements for training. Doc is right, the pedal plates in a mountain bike are just too small compared to the racer type, while the body is considerably lighter as well.
Jun, on the other hand, who’s still recuperating from his biking accident in Fontainbleau, in le Republique Française, and who will be skipping dragon boat training in the meantime, is gunning for the mid-year Milo full marathon. I told him I’m not optimistic about the 42km race because running has always been my weakest event.
I plan to lessen my dragon boat involvement as well but will focus more on swimming (which I have neglected this year) and long-distance biking this coming 2007.
Fitness First representatives have been hounding me with mobile phone calls lately. I still do not have plans of working out in the gym. I’d rather run, row and bike outdoors, you know, toning my body the natural way.
Being physically fit and healthy have always been my top priority rather than looking good for its own sake. I am not narcissistic at all.
Thank God I got a new project from Singapore. Being a free-lancer isn’t always a comfortable position to be in. You’ll never know when your next project is coming along. I hope I get more projects next year.
The peso has gained considerable strength already (appreciating by more than 14%), from PhP56/US$ two years ago to PhP4$US by the end of this year. It does not bode well for me at all, as I am highly dependent on foreign projects. The only way for me to compensate the loss in purchasing power is to raise my volumes. Furthermore, if the peso continues to appreciate, I might be forced to look for a full-time job soon.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
RASHKOVSKIY: Piano Fantasies
Last night, I heard the Manila debut of a petite, 22-year old Russian pianist Ilya Rashkovskiy at the Philam Life Theatre in UN Avenue. He won the grand prize at the 1st Hong Kong International Piano Competition with Vladimir Ashkenazy and Gary Graffman, among others, as jurors. What prompted me to watch the concert was that I read somewhere the pianist studied under Vladimir Krainev in Germany, a Tchaikovsky grand prize winner (and whose Chopin interpretations I always listen to at the classical archives website) and who’s currently an eminent Russian pedagogue at the Moscow Conservatory.
I was keenly aware of the formidable program as well: all Piano Fantasies, from Mozart to Balakirev, spanning the classical to romantic repertoires.
Rashkovskiy opened with the rather somber Mozart Fantasy in C Minor, KV475. Quite unlike you would expect from Mozart, this piece isn’t filled with bright and gay tunes. In fact, the tempo ranges from adagio, andante and at most, to moderato. There aren’t much rapid passages as well. Mozart wrote this at a later stage in his life maybe when he felt more introspective.
For some reason, the Russian’s rendition failed to engage me. It simply didn’t connect with me at all, maybe because of the usual distraction from audience members who cannot sit still on a classical music performance, who kept on whispering, rummaging through hand bags, opening a candy wrapper, and even sending SMS! Or was it the grand piano, which I felt needed a little tuning up.
His take on Schubert’s Wanderer Fantasy in C Major, however erased all initial doubts about his ability. The formidable piece, always a showpiece of virtuosos, showcased the awesome technical skills demanded from such a difficult but popular piece. The Schubert already provided the fireworks that electrified the audience to its feet.
The first part of the program ended with Alexander Scriabin’s Fantasy in B Minor, the only piece I am not familiar with. As can be expected from Scriabin, the piece is supposed to be full of fire, passion and turmoil, even anger. I would have wanted a more passionate and sensitive reading of the piece. Maybe when Rashkovskiy gets a little older, he’ll be able to interpret this piece with more heart and soul.
After the intermission, Rashkovskiy immediately launched into Liszt’s infernal Dante Sonata. A massively difficult piece, the Russian managed to convey the diabolical and frightening images of hell as depicted in Dante’s literary masterpiece. Bravo!
The Chopin Fantasy in F Minor, although no less difficult than the Liszt, came as a perfect neutralizer because of its natural grace and lyricism, brought to new heights by the Russian’s complex shading and vibrant coloring of this Chopin masterpiece.
And of course, the piece de resistance, Mily Balakirev’s Islamey, probably among the most difficult in the piano repertoire (along with Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit) and which intrigued me so much I decided at the last minute to buy the one-grand ticket instead of the seven-hundred bucks. He had difficulty in the final bars and I thought the opening theme was a bit too fast. Islamey is supposed to sound like there are four people pounding the piano, instead of one. And the extreme virtuosity demanded by this piece is so astounding, most pianists avoid this.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t satisfied with his rendition, despite the fact that Balakirev is a Russian and the piece interpreted by a fellow Russian could have lent justice to the hidden nuances in this extremely difficult war-horse. The challenge, much like Scriabin, is to let the melody and the theme emerge from the turmoil created by the fiery outbursts, to make the instrument sing, as if a shaman were dancing dervish, trance-like and barefoot, on top of burning coals. In fact, Islamey’s other name is Oriental Fantasy. Obviously, Balakirev had maybe Turkey or Central Asia in mind when he composed this.
After a rousing ovation, Rashkovskiy obliged with Chopin’s Fantasie-Impromptu. I thought it was a no-brainer, I mean I play this piece.
He obliged the audience with another encore. This time however, I got surprised: Robert Schumann’s Toccata. This is not an easy piece to play. Although he got through the end unscathed, I still prefer other pianists’ rendition, especially our very own Cecile Licad in her all-Schumann recording (unfortunately I lost my copy).
I was keenly aware of the formidable program as well: all Piano Fantasies, from Mozart to Balakirev, spanning the classical to romantic repertoires.
Rashkovskiy opened with the rather somber Mozart Fantasy in C Minor, KV475. Quite unlike you would expect from Mozart, this piece isn’t filled with bright and gay tunes. In fact, the tempo ranges from adagio, andante and at most, to moderato. There aren’t much rapid passages as well. Mozart wrote this at a later stage in his life maybe when he felt more introspective.
For some reason, the Russian’s rendition failed to engage me. It simply didn’t connect with me at all, maybe because of the usual distraction from audience members who cannot sit still on a classical music performance, who kept on whispering, rummaging through hand bags, opening a candy wrapper, and even sending SMS! Or was it the grand piano, which I felt needed a little tuning up.
His take on Schubert’s Wanderer Fantasy in C Major, however erased all initial doubts about his ability. The formidable piece, always a showpiece of virtuosos, showcased the awesome technical skills demanded from such a difficult but popular piece. The Schubert already provided the fireworks that electrified the audience to its feet.
The first part of the program ended with Alexander Scriabin’s Fantasy in B Minor, the only piece I am not familiar with. As can be expected from Scriabin, the piece is supposed to be full of fire, passion and turmoil, even anger. I would have wanted a more passionate and sensitive reading of the piece. Maybe when Rashkovskiy gets a little older, he’ll be able to interpret this piece with more heart and soul.
After the intermission, Rashkovskiy immediately launched into Liszt’s infernal Dante Sonata. A massively difficult piece, the Russian managed to convey the diabolical and frightening images of hell as depicted in Dante’s literary masterpiece. Bravo!
The Chopin Fantasy in F Minor, although no less difficult than the Liszt, came as a perfect neutralizer because of its natural grace and lyricism, brought to new heights by the Russian’s complex shading and vibrant coloring of this Chopin masterpiece.
And of course, the piece de resistance, Mily Balakirev’s Islamey, probably among the most difficult in the piano repertoire (along with Ravel’s Gaspard de la Nuit) and which intrigued me so much I decided at the last minute to buy the one-grand ticket instead of the seven-hundred bucks. He had difficulty in the final bars and I thought the opening theme was a bit too fast. Islamey is supposed to sound like there are four people pounding the piano, instead of one. And the extreme virtuosity demanded by this piece is so astounding, most pianists avoid this.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t satisfied with his rendition, despite the fact that Balakirev is a Russian and the piece interpreted by a fellow Russian could have lent justice to the hidden nuances in this extremely difficult war-horse. The challenge, much like Scriabin, is to let the melody and the theme emerge from the turmoil created by the fiery outbursts, to make the instrument sing, as if a shaman were dancing dervish, trance-like and barefoot, on top of burning coals. In fact, Islamey’s other name is Oriental Fantasy. Obviously, Balakirev had maybe Turkey or Central Asia in mind when he composed this.
After a rousing ovation, Rashkovskiy obliged with Chopin’s Fantasie-Impromptu. I thought it was a no-brainer, I mean I play this piece.
He obliged the audience with another encore. This time however, I got surprised: Robert Schumann’s Toccata. This is not an easy piece to play. Although he got through the end unscathed, I still prefer other pianists’ rendition, especially our very own Cecile Licad in her all-Schumann recording (unfortunately I lost my copy).
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Gathering Storm
Politics has been rearing its ugly head again these past few days. De Venecia and his allies in Congress, ostensibly with Gloria's blessings, are itching to change the Constitution and shift the current system of government from Presidential to Parliamentary, by crook or by hook, so that they can perpetuate themselves in power. This, despite the Supreme Court's ruling on the unconstitutionality of the so-called People's Initiative earlier, the administration's initial hare-brained attempt at pushing its own selfish agenda. By insisting and bullying the Senate to convene a Constitutional Assembly, De Venecia and his pork-hungry minions in Congress only showed their true colors. The nerve!
They haven't even passed the 2007 budget yet. And get this, they had to postpone the ASEAN Summit in Cebu even if PAGASA issued the go-signal for the Summit to proceed. Obviously, the typhoon was only used as a lame excuse because of the heightened security risks posed by the gathering political storm. They're the ones creating this mess, to begin with.
It's as clear as day. De Venecia, who will never be the President under the present system, knows this fully well, and he can no longer wait. He firmly believes he is destined to lead this country sooner or later. DUH!
I can't stand him.
They haven't even passed the 2007 budget yet. And get this, they had to postpone the ASEAN Summit in Cebu even if PAGASA issued the go-signal for the Summit to proceed. Obviously, the typhoon was only used as a lame excuse because of the heightened security risks posed by the gathering political storm. They're the ones creating this mess, to begin with.
It's as clear as day. De Venecia, who will never be the President under the present system, knows this fully well, and he can no longer wait. He firmly believes he is destined to lead this country sooner or later. DUH!
I can't stand him.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Paddle Hard, Party Harder
Again, the men’s team failed to make the cut during the semi-finals in yesterday’s quarterly regatta. Two teams came from typhoon-devastated Bicol and clobbered all Manila-based teams. The military fielded two (Philippine National Police and Navy). That meant club teams were relegated to the sidelines, playing second fiddle to these power horses. So what else is new?
The women’s team continued their winning streak, however, placing third.
Last night, we partied at the Valle Verde residence of our teammates, the Cruz sisters, in formal wear. It was a blast from the start.
The men had to wear barong, a very safe choice. Unfortunately, for the women their wardrobe choices could easily spell disaster. The problem with formal events for people not used to wearing formal attire is that the clothes and accessories easily become the object of conversation, turning everyone into instant fashion critics.
Johanna a.k.a Brutus, who claims to be a lesbian, who regales us with stories about her crushes (all women!) but paints her toe nails, shrieks when she sees a gorgeous guy and wraps his arms around male colleagues, made her entrance in a what appeared to be a “duster”, or house-dress. Worse, the dress seemed a size too big for her, in sky blue and as Frodo has commented, made her look like the Virgin Mary.
Patrona (she’s my counterpart: kill-joy, anti-social/anti-cute, but with one difference, she’s mataray, I’m extremely friendly) came in an almost all-black ensemble with a small violet blazer. We all thought she came in a broom stick.
Aretha, who’s heavily endowed (it’s easy to see she has difficulty finding bra sizes…as in is there a size E?) came in a dress that has lots of brown frilly laces (where did she rent this, I wonder) which made her look like a lavandera preparing to wash a pile of clothes in the river.
Lest you accuse me of being a fashion snub, people, I only took note of Yojin’s, Pam’s and especially Frodo’s comments. We were all seated at a dinner table directly facing the doorway.
As for me, I was enjoying myself sipping my glass of rosé, slightly sweet but very fruity, and dipping fruit pieces and marshmallow into the chocolate fondue, while observing the goings-on in the group.
The women’s team continued their winning streak, however, placing third.
Last night, we partied at the Valle Verde residence of our teammates, the Cruz sisters, in formal wear. It was a blast from the start.
The men had to wear barong, a very safe choice. Unfortunately, for the women their wardrobe choices could easily spell disaster. The problem with formal events for people not used to wearing formal attire is that the clothes and accessories easily become the object of conversation, turning everyone into instant fashion critics.
Johanna a.k.a Brutus, who claims to be a lesbian, who regales us with stories about her crushes (all women!) but paints her toe nails, shrieks when she sees a gorgeous guy and wraps his arms around male colleagues, made her entrance in a what appeared to be a “duster”, or house-dress. Worse, the dress seemed a size too big for her, in sky blue and as Frodo has commented, made her look like the Virgin Mary.
Patrona (she’s my counterpart: kill-joy, anti-social/anti-cute, but with one difference, she’s mataray, I’m extremely friendly) came in an almost all-black ensemble with a small violet blazer. We all thought she came in a broom stick.
Aretha, who’s heavily endowed (it’s easy to see she has difficulty finding bra sizes…as in is there a size E?) came in a dress that has lots of brown frilly laces (where did she rent this, I wonder) which made her look like a lavandera preparing to wash a pile of clothes in the river.
Lest you accuse me of being a fashion snub, people, I only took note of Yojin’s, Pam’s and especially Frodo’s comments. We were all seated at a dinner table directly facing the doorway.
As for me, I was enjoying myself sipping my glass of rosé, slightly sweet but very fruity, and dipping fruit pieces and marshmallow into the chocolate fondue, while observing the goings-on in the group.
Merlion Trip Pix
With Ay-ris and Yojin at Sentosa
With Yojin and the amiable and lovely Jaymi, our host, at the Merlion
With Raul and Ay-ris in Chinatowm
Friday, December 8, 2006
Holy Reminder
An hour or so after I started practicing my scales on the piano and mid-way through Liszt’s Liebestraum no. 3, the phone rang.
“Ronald, Can I ask a favour? Can you please play the Ave Maria”.
“Huh? Who is this, please”.
“It’s Ate Che, next door.”
I didn’t recognize Ate Che’s voice immediately, despite having lived right next door to her for about five years now. It was like it came from the “beyond”.
And then it hit me. I almost forgot, today is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
So I played the solemn and beautiful Ave Maria by Franz Schubert.
“Ronald, Can I ask a favour? Can you please play the Ave Maria”.
“Huh? Who is this, please”.
“It’s Ate Che, next door.”
I didn’t recognize Ate Che’s voice immediately, despite having lived right next door to her for about five years now. It was like it came from the “beyond”.
And then it hit me. I almost forgot, today is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.
So I played the solemn and beautiful Ave Maria by Franz Schubert.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
French Connection
Salut! Bon jour, mes amis, if you plan to give me Mozart’s 12 Variations on “Ah! Vous dirai-je maman!”, my good friend Jun O., the country’s foremost expert on bacteria, viruses and rabies, beat you to it! He found the piano score at the rue de Rome in Paris. That’s one off the wish list. Now if only someone can take a hard look at no. 1…
Under my expert prodding and encouragement, he’s been attending classical music concerts in Paris, yes the music of Mozart and Puccini. He’s been telling me he noticed the audience doesn’t clap in between movements, and since he can’t distinguish one movement from the other, he waits for the others to clap first before he does.
He’s so lucky he gets to watch Mozart’s Requiem this week-end, a piece the composer wrote for his impending death and which shattered his soul so much he never completed it.
Oh by the way, Jun fell off his bike while pedaling his way through the French countryside, broke his arms, and spent ten days in a first world hospital. Jun, c’est la vie! He’s returning to Manila next week, with a French twang. He's now in an excellent position to ace his French exams at the Alliance.
Under my expert prodding and encouragement, he’s been attending classical music concerts in Paris, yes the music of Mozart and Puccini. He’s been telling me he noticed the audience doesn’t clap in between movements, and since he can’t distinguish one movement from the other, he waits for the others to clap first before he does.
He’s so lucky he gets to watch Mozart’s Requiem this week-end, a piece the composer wrote for his impending death and which shattered his soul so much he never completed it.
Oh by the way, Jun fell off his bike while pedaling his way through the French countryside, broke his arms, and spent ten days in a first world hospital. Jun, c’est la vie! He’s returning to Manila next week, with a French twang. He's now in an excellent position to ace his French exams at the Alliance.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
Climate Changes
Unusually warm this December. I think the devastation brought by typhoon Durian (Reming) last week (and the one that caused a mudslide and wiped out an entire village in Leyte a year before) as well as the late onset of winter in some European countries is somehow related: climate changes on account of global warming.
Are we going to see a repeat of these tragedies every year?
Are we going to see a repeat of these tragedies every year?
Garage Tenants
I lease my car-less garage to three tenants, free of charge. I think they’re siblings. Covered mostly in white fur with patches of black all over their bodies, they lounge and luxuriate in my garage twice a day: early morning before it gets too hot, and late afternoon.
In exchange, I always remind them to watch over the apartment and keep the pesky mice coming from the nearby warehouse, at bay.
I’m talking about my feline friends. Manang Mimi, my landlady’s toothless housekeeper next door, feeds them. Consequently, they’re also getting fatter each day and thus spend the entire day sleeping.
From my window, I once saw one cat perform the Heimlich maneuver on another, feline version of course, as the latter tried to cough up fur balls created from all that licking.
I don’t give them food, because I want them to rely on their hunting instincts to survive. This would help eradicate the annoying mice infestation in our neighborhood originating from a warehouse owned by our chubby Chinese neighbor.
They have marked my garage area as their territory. It’s obvious from the acrid smell of urine. I always tell them to stop making the area where I grow my plants as their litter box, or they’ll lose their privileges. All I get are blank stares.
It’s been working quite nicely the past few months. I haven’t caught a single mouse in my flytraps ever since I forged a deal with my furry tenants. But since Manang is spoiling them and they’re starting to get negligent with their duties, I might sue them for breach of contract one of these days.
In exchange, I always remind them to watch over the apartment and keep the pesky mice coming from the nearby warehouse, at bay.
I’m talking about my feline friends. Manang Mimi, my landlady’s toothless housekeeper next door, feeds them. Consequently, they’re also getting fatter each day and thus spend the entire day sleeping.
From my window, I once saw one cat perform the Heimlich maneuver on another, feline version of course, as the latter tried to cough up fur balls created from all that licking.
I don’t give them food, because I want them to rely on their hunting instincts to survive. This would help eradicate the annoying mice infestation in our neighborhood originating from a warehouse owned by our chubby Chinese neighbor.
They have marked my garage area as their territory. It’s obvious from the acrid smell of urine. I always tell them to stop making the area where I grow my plants as their litter box, or they’ll lose their privileges. All I get are blank stares.
It’s been working quite nicely the past few months. I haven’t caught a single mouse in my flytraps ever since I forged a deal with my furry tenants. But since Manang is spoiling them and they’re starting to get negligent with their duties, I might sue them for breach of contract one of these days.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Subic Rape Case
I really wonder what will be the outcome of the Subic rape case, whether the American servicemen charged with rape will go scot-free. The Visiting Forces Agreement signed between the Philippines and the US provides, among other concessions, protection to US servicemen from criminal prosecution for crimes committed within Philippine soil. The Philippines had to sign this one-sided contract in exchange for military and technical assistance from the Americans.
The VFA aside, I do have my misgivings as well. I cannot understand why the prosecution included in their charge sheet, the “star witness”. They could have used this witness to build an air-tight case against the servicemen, instead of relying on circumstantial evidence.
I also wonder why Katrina Legarda decided to drop this case.
The VFA aside, I do have my misgivings as well. I cannot understand why the prosecution included in their charge sheet, the “star witness”. They could have used this witness to build an air-tight case against the servicemen, instead of relying on circumstantial evidence.
I also wonder why Katrina Legarda decided to drop this case.
Thoughts on Blogging
I used to dislike blogging. I thought it was simply a venue either for endless whining or shameless self-promotion. Some provide blow-by-blow accounts of their private lives, interesting or not (I’m guilty of this myself); other focus on their interests such as music and food; not surprisingly, there are blogs designed to creatively divest you of your hard-earned money.
I came across a Fil-American who decided to make it on his own and undertake a “homecoming” journey touring the Philippine islands. In exchange for writing about his experience, he has a bank account number in his blog where sympathetic readers can “donate” any amount to support his adventure trips around the country. Duh. For all we care, he’s only blowing his readers’ money on booze and having the time of his life.
There’s also this college guy who writes about his quest to find the right girl. The guy looks like he could easily find one, given his matinee idol looks. But no, he wanted the readers to believe he is having a hard time finding dates. And so, he blogs about his search and what happens during his dates. Readers, in fact join in the fun and send their pictures and profiles for him to consider. On his website, however, appears the logo of a popular toothpaste brand and a link to the corporate website. Uhm, yes, that is the catch.
But I support blogs that have worthy causes. Carlos Celdran’s manner of presenting history and culture is almost like a performance art: he combines theatre, music and visuals to make it come alive. He is extremely knowledgeable about history and you know that he is sincerely passionate about preserving what remains of our cultural heritage. His walk tours are highly popular, and rightly so. I always see him in Quiapo conducting his tours and discussing history to foreigners and students and I can hear his lilting English from afar. If ever you have foreign visitors coming in for the week-end, I recommend a half-day walk tour of Intramuros with this guy for a fresh take of Philippine history and culture.
I read Jessica Zafra mostly for her cats. She obviously adores and spoils them, a far cry from her anti-social persona. She makes it sound like her life with her pets is action-packed with excitement, even if all they do is sleep the entire day. I remember she devoted an entire column about her battle with a single cockroach in her apartment. She made it sound like it were an epic event and –gasp!—I read the entire thing.
I came across a Fil-American who decided to make it on his own and undertake a “homecoming” journey touring the Philippine islands. In exchange for writing about his experience, he has a bank account number in his blog where sympathetic readers can “donate” any amount to support his adventure trips around the country. Duh. For all we care, he’s only blowing his readers’ money on booze and having the time of his life.
There’s also this college guy who writes about his quest to find the right girl. The guy looks like he could easily find one, given his matinee idol looks. But no, he wanted the readers to believe he is having a hard time finding dates. And so, he blogs about his search and what happens during his dates. Readers, in fact join in the fun and send their pictures and profiles for him to consider. On his website, however, appears the logo of a popular toothpaste brand and a link to the corporate website. Uhm, yes, that is the catch.
But I support blogs that have worthy causes. Carlos Celdran’s manner of presenting history and culture is almost like a performance art: he combines theatre, music and visuals to make it come alive. He is extremely knowledgeable about history and you know that he is sincerely passionate about preserving what remains of our cultural heritage. His walk tours are highly popular, and rightly so. I always see him in Quiapo conducting his tours and discussing history to foreigners and students and I can hear his lilting English from afar. If ever you have foreign visitors coming in for the week-end, I recommend a half-day walk tour of Intramuros with this guy for a fresh take of Philippine history and culture.
I read Jessica Zafra mostly for her cats. She obviously adores and spoils them, a far cry from her anti-social persona. She makes it sound like her life with her pets is action-packed with excitement, even if all they do is sleep the entire day. I remember she devoted an entire column about her battle with a single cockroach in her apartment. She made it sound like it were an epic event and –gasp!—I read the entire thing.
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Misunderstood
Pope Benedict XVI’s visit to Turkey, a largely Islamic country aims to eradicate the negative image he created by the remarks he made linking Islam to violence. The Pope is clearly playing the role of a diplomat role now, a far cry from when he was still the Vatican’s orthodox defender of the faith. But he’s also not back tracking from his stinging criticism of Islam.
In fact, his speech at a university in Germany earlier this year which sparked anger across the Muslim world, remains a pointed challenge to the Muslim faithful to categorically renounce violence as a form of justification of their faith.
By quoting a Byzantine emperor to drive home his point, Benedict underscored the historical fact that for centuries, violence in Islam has been used repeatedly to justify the Islamic faith.
Islam isn’t necessarily violent per se, but jihad, in special circumstances, does allow the use of violence to justify the faith. This is where Benedict raises the red flag. For him, under no circumstance whatsoever should violence be used in the name of God.
Unfortunately, the media and the Muslim faithful failed to fully understand the gravity of Benedict’s message. They thought he was only bullying Muslims, intent on offending them.
Without pointing it out specifically, Benedict trained his guns at the concept of jihad, which is being used by terrorists around the world to justify and advance their own brand of Islam.
Although the Roman Catholic Church has a violent history itself, the use of violence to justify faith is not an accepted doctrine. There is no jihad equivalent in Christianity.
Jihad—the use of violence in the service of Allah-- is an Islamic martyrdom concept which is so wide open to interpretation such that it is being used by Islamic extremists and terrorists to justify their suicidal actions in hotbeds like Jammu and Kashmir, Palestine, Iraq and Afghanistan, among others. Let us also not forget the events of 9/11—the terrorists, all jihadists, blew themselves up, killing innocent lives in the process and changing the course of history, supposedly in the service of Allah.
This is the message the Pope is trying to drill especially to Muslim religious leaders and intellectuals around the world. He was not trying to deliberately offend Muslims. He tried to rouse them to reexamine the problematic concept of jihad and its place in Islamic doctrine because of the current deadly consequences if taken to extremes.
Benedict correctly recognized that jihad is at the heart and soul of every Islamic extremist ready to blow himself up. Osama and Al-Qaeda’s terror motives clearly spring from this.
The fanaticism which manifests itself in violence and terrorism cannot be addressed fully if Muslim religious leaders around the world as well moderate Muslims continue to lend a blind eye and a deaf ear on this fundamental religious issue of jihad.
Pope Benedict did everybody a service by pointing this out.
In fact, his speech at a university in Germany earlier this year which sparked anger across the Muslim world, remains a pointed challenge to the Muslim faithful to categorically renounce violence as a form of justification of their faith.
By quoting a Byzantine emperor to drive home his point, Benedict underscored the historical fact that for centuries, violence in Islam has been used repeatedly to justify the Islamic faith.
Islam isn’t necessarily violent per se, but jihad, in special circumstances, does allow the use of violence to justify the faith. This is where Benedict raises the red flag. For him, under no circumstance whatsoever should violence be used in the name of God.
Unfortunately, the media and the Muslim faithful failed to fully understand the gravity of Benedict’s message. They thought he was only bullying Muslims, intent on offending them.
Without pointing it out specifically, Benedict trained his guns at the concept of jihad, which is being used by terrorists around the world to justify and advance their own brand of Islam.
Although the Roman Catholic Church has a violent history itself, the use of violence to justify faith is not an accepted doctrine. There is no jihad equivalent in Christianity.
Jihad—the use of violence in the service of Allah-- is an Islamic martyrdom concept which is so wide open to interpretation such that it is being used by Islamic extremists and terrorists to justify their suicidal actions in hotbeds like Jammu and Kashmir, Palestine, Iraq and Afghanistan, among others. Let us also not forget the events of 9/11—the terrorists, all jihadists, blew themselves up, killing innocent lives in the process and changing the course of history, supposedly in the service of Allah.
This is the message the Pope is trying to drill especially to Muslim religious leaders and intellectuals around the world. He was not trying to deliberately offend Muslims. He tried to rouse them to reexamine the problematic concept of jihad and its place in Islamic doctrine because of the current deadly consequences if taken to extremes.
Benedict correctly recognized that jihad is at the heart and soul of every Islamic extremist ready to blow himself up. Osama and Al-Qaeda’s terror motives clearly spring from this.
The fanaticism which manifests itself in violence and terrorism cannot be addressed fully if Muslim religious leaders around the world as well moderate Muslims continue to lend a blind eye and a deaf ear on this fundamental religious issue of jihad.
Pope Benedict did everybody a service by pointing this out.
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