Have you seen it? Joel Villanueva. Senator. Supposedly. Jesus Is Lord Church’s 47th anniversary. Big one, very classy. And what’s he talking about? Flood control. Joel. He’s shocked! Offended! Like he just found out someone put ketchup on his hotdog. 

“Kasali daw? Edi wow! Wala tayong flood control! Hindi tayo sangkot sa katiwalian!”

I was almost certain something was happening. Though I was not quite sure what. Was it a sermon? Political rally? A seizure?

I swear! His eyebrows arched like tiny siege engines, eyes too wide they’re minor threats to passing aircraft.

And the man’s arms! Flailing. Have you seen twin propellers? I half expected him to take off from Luneta Grandstand like a helicopter. Helicopter Joel. Maybe start doing rounds on the flood control projects himself. We’ve seen typhoons with less wind.

I sat calculating how many calories a minute he was burning. The movements had that frantic quality of a man who forgot where he put the Holy Spirit.

“Tayong mga JIL…if God is with us, no one, nothing, and no circumstances here on Earth can be against us, amen?“

Joel, buddy. Calm down. God sees you, OK? He is watching. Probably covering his ears.

If the Lord is with us, who can possibly be against us? I don’t know, Joel. Maybe the Ombudsman?

You’re supposed to be humble, not bulletproof. It’s so convenient because God doesn’t testify, the way you might say “God is my witness,” which really means “I hope no one else was.”

If God really were with Joel, he’d probably start by asking for a little quiet. He’s been shouted at for millennia. Imagine being omnipotent and still having to sit through that.

And his dad, you’ve seen the dad, right? Brother Eddie, very big man in the God business. Might be beaming in the front row, glowing, nodding, “Yes, son, yes! Preach!” Imagine doves flying out of his ears. “That’s my boy!” Maybe go get your boy?

The first rule of religion: Say it loud enough, and someone will believe you. Works every time. Even Joel convinces himself sometimes. 

The audience will nod along like, “Yes! Amen! My eardrums are bleeding for the Lord.”

Talk long enough and it will feel like asking questions is like slapping Jesus; once you invoke God, you no longer need reason. 

Joel speaks to believers because believers don’t as much fact-check as feel-check. If it feels holy, it must be true. Faith is what people call it when denial starts sounding noble: the collective decision to believe anything so long as it rhymed with “Hallelujah.”

You imagine the followers raising their hands like antenna trying to catch the signal to heaven, vibrating at frequencies unknown to logic. Maybe faking their fainting to prove piety. 

Then I imagined a woman speaking in tongues. Though, to be fair, it could’ve been Bisaya and I just needed to learn more languages.