F1 Crash, Colon Cancer, And Sunday Mornings

Over the weekend, a few unrelated events found interconnections within my head: (1) Felipe Massa’s freak accident at the Hungarian Grand Prix; (2) Cory Aquino’s battle with colon cancer; and (3) Sunday morning Mass in Glorietta.

A spring similar to what hit Formula One driver Felipe Massa.

For those who are not into sports or motor racing, Felipe Massa is a Formula 1 driver for the Scuderia Ferrari team. He suffered a freak accident when a suspension spring came off from a car way in front of his and hit him in the head at roughly 350 km/h. He momentarily lost consciousness, crashed into the tire barrier, and was promptly airlifted to a nearby hospital. He suffered a fractured skull (even with a state-of-the-art protective helmet). As a footnote, Massa came within split seconds of becoming world champion last year; now, it’s not even certain if he can race in Formula 1 ever again.

Then there’s Cory Aquino, who suffers from colon cancer. What a life she’s had – or had to endure! Years as wife of a political prisoner, then unceremoniously thrown into the political ring after her husband’s assassination, and having had to overcome multiple coup attempts to her administration. And let’s not forget – she’s had to play Kris Aquino’s mom in real life all these years! Only a really rotten person, it would seem, deserves such a raw deal on life. And she seems, at the very least, a decent well-meaning person.

This brings me to my third point: the Sunday Mass I attended in Glorietta. Here’s the thing: I’ve come to the point where I tune out the priest when he gives the homily, more popularly referred to as the sermon. But last Sunday, I found myself actually open to hearing what the priest had to say. Maybe, it was because of the equanimity with which the priest delivered his piece. (I’ve noticed that Filipino priests, especially when there’s a large audience, tend to be bombastic, theatrical, and very preachy.) I didn’t pick up what he said due to the poor sound system and acoustics. (Or Divine Providence perhaps?) But I came away with an insight.

I think priests would do much better if, instead of having a view to preach, they sought to inspire. I know I’d rather be inspired rather than be preached to. I have a feeling most people would feel the same way. When a person spends the entire work week listening to and following what bosses, clients, and customers tell him, the last thing he needs is a preacher giving him a sermon on what he should do – on a day of rest, at that. Besides, I have a problem when a man in a frock preaches from his pulpit to a layperson who probably knows more about life: the former doesn’t need to worry where his next meal will come from and never has to pay taxes, while the latter labors for his family in places that hardly resemble the Lord’s vineyard and then pays for taxes that rarely redound to their benefit. With all the inanities and tribulations an ordinary person goes through week in, week out, a few words of inspiration on a Sunday morning would be nicely appreciated.

The experiences of Felipe Massa and Cory Aquino recall a line from Woody Allen’s “Crimes and Misdemeanors”: “Events unfold so unpredictably, so unfairly, human happiness does not seem to be included in the design of creation.” When such occurrences confront us, we find ourselves needing a lift – something, anything to help us keep on track. The doctor can heal the body; I expect a man of the cloth to help heal the soul. And that’s where sermon and inspiration are worlds apart: the former connotes talking down to someone from a position of superiority (perceived or otherwise), while the latter helps someone transcend this rough-and-tumble existence towards something exalted. If only priests sought to inspire rather than preach, they would have earned their free meals and given deeper meaning to their tax-free existence. And they probably would increase their collections, as well. Hmmm, that’s a marketing strategy for priests right there!

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