The Public’s Good Servant, but God’s First
My father was a lay minister. That’s the guy that serves communion to people during mass. He was also a lecturer and commentator. Those are the people who speak the response during mass. Depending on the day, one way or another he’d always end up praying. It was his way of keeping the negative energy always approaching him at bay.
He was also an Executive Regional Trial Court Judge trying heinous crimes. That includes rape, murder, kidnapping and drugs. Pretty much the worse things the criminal world has to offer, my dad had to live with it on a daily basis and send people either to life in prison or death.
People would often try to bribe him, especially the drug lords. I would be at his court when people would try to approach him or his clerks and other low level employees. That’s why he used to have a sign in his sala/court that said “no treating of soft drinks and no Christmas gifts please”. Even the smallest free treat for drinks was temptation to bigger things for my dad. In the province, this was considered rude, for you never reject good offers to you. But this was the way my father lived. His professional reputation would be a reflection of his integrity as a person, and in no way would he ever sell himself out for such worldly things.
That’s how God, or religion kept him afloat from all the evils while keeping himself close to the ground. He anchored his strength on the intangible, his faith in a benevolent God that saw through all the hardships in the world and would reward those who do good things, with something more than worldly pursuits. He had hope in the process, and he made himself the catalyst.
I was the ever-selfish young son, asking him to just accept. Part of it was my fear of losing him. He comforted me by reminding me that its ok to look forward to the fruits of your labor, to enjoy the good things of the world, provided, that one remembers that there are bigger things than yourself.
That way, when the moment comes, you will accede to a bigger purpose. He would tell me that as a Judge, he could affect the lives of many people, and that though he was one, his refusal to cave in to peer pressures to be greedy, one way or another, gave breath to those who never had a chance.
But what happens when your law tells you to sentence one to die while your faith tells you to uphold the dignity of life? My father never enjoyed giving the death sentence. Even when the person, by law, deserved the sentence, and he had no recourse but to sentence it, he would always be eaten up by the thought. He would still do his job.
The first time he had to give the death sentence he sought the advice of our local parish priest. The parish priest consoled him telling him that as long as his judgment was sound and it was done fairly, he was doing a greater justice, a substantial justice for the community by properly implementing the law. Sometimes, our personal feelings must give step aside for the greater good of the community. As humans, we are very fallible, and can never come to perfection, so sometimes we must rely on the law.
When he was assassinated I was devastated. How can the law fail to protect its ardent server?
Many offered their services to vindicate us for they believed in my father for they saw first hand how he brought justice to their community. We even heard of prisoners that respected my father, despite him sentencing them to jail for they knew he was a kind and fair man.
So when we were offered revenge to soothe our pain, we were tasked with asking ourselves, must we circumvent the law to find instant solace? Will we really find peace, but at the risk of going against what my father fought and died for?
Must the law fail so that we may find comfort?
Sometimes, there are bigger things than us.
