LINGGO, MAYO 5, 2024

THE MOST RADICAL TEACHING OF JESUS

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“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” (Lk 6:27–28)

I have always thought that this must be the most radical of all the teachings of Jesus. It asks for something that seems almost contrary to our instincts. We naturally love those who love us, defend ourselves against those who hurt us, and return hostility with hostility. Jesus asks us to break that cycle.

Perhaps this is also the deepest foundation of the late Pope Francis’ persistent insistence on mercy. Mercy is not weakness. It is the strength to refuse to become like the one who has hurt us. It is the freedom to stop evil from reproducing itself through us.

Pope Leo XIV speaks often of building a civilization of love, picking up a vision already articulated by his predecessors. But there is something profoundly Augustinian about it as well: the contrast between two ways of building a city, two ways of imagining human greatness.

Genesis 11 gives us the image of Babel. “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower…and make a name for ourselves.” It is civilization built on power, uniformity and self-glorification. Everyone speaks the same language, everyone is enlisted in the same project, everyone looks upward—but toward human greatness rather than toward God. And it ends not in communion but in dispersion.

Perhaps humanity had to learn the hard way that true unity cannot be built by making everyone speak the same language. The City of God is built by learning to live with many languages, cultures, peoples and differences—and discovering within that plurality a higher language capable of creating communion: the language of love.

That is why the command of Jesus to love our enemies is so radical. He is not simply teaching us to be nice to difficult people. He is proposing a higher form of humanity.

In an age that is returning so easily to the language of power, domination, retaliation and “making a name for ourselves,” the Gospel proposes another way of building the human city: not Babel, but the New Jerusalem; not uniformity, but communion; not domination, but mercy.

Perhaps a civilization of love begins precisely there: when hatred reaches us, and we refuse to pass it on.

FLOODS AND THE DREADED LEPTOSPIROSIS

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I cannot think of leptospirosis merely as a statistic. Whenever I hear about another case, I remember Dion Angelo De la Rosa, one of our altar servers, and the painful story of how a disease acquired from contaminated floodwater can suddenly turn into a life-threatening illness.

Yesterday, Fr. Rommel Brebaño, our Diocesan BEC Coordinator, updated me about what they have been seeing on the ground. He was alarmed by the rate at which people in flooded communities are contracting leptospirosis—and by the deaths being reported. What makes the situation even more disturbing is hearing from residents who go to their Barangay Health Centers after exposure to floodwater, only to be told: ubos na po ang gamot.

I decided to check whether what they are observing locally is reflected in the official figures. Unfortunately, it is.

As of early September, Central Luzon had already recorded 435 leptospirosis cases since August, with health authorities saying that most of the patients had been exposed to floodwaters during the weeks of prolonged flooding. At Jose B. Lingad Memorial General Hospital here in Pampanga, more than 60 leptospirosis patients from different parts of Central Luzon were confined at the same time just a few days ago.

Nationally, the DOH has recorded 6,253 cases so far this year. Even more alarming is the sudden rise following the floods: in just the two-week period from August 2 to 15, 824 cases were recorded—a 77-percent increase from the preceding period. Central Luzon is now among the regions under intensified monitoring.

And this morning comes another grim figure. San Lazaro Hospital has recorded 22 deaths from leptospirosis as of September 7. Almost three-fourths of these deaths were associated with pulmonary hemorrhage—bleeding in the lungs, one of the most dreaded complications of severe leptospirosis.

Leptospirosis is caused by Leptospira bacteria, commonly spread through water or soil contaminated by the urine of infected animals, especially rats. Floodwater provides an almost perfect vehicle for transmission. The bacteria can enter the body through wounds and abrasions, including tiny breaks in the skin that we may not even notice.

At first, the disease can deceptively resemble an ordinary flu: fever, headache, chills, muscle pains—often severe pain in the calves—vomiting, abdominal pain and redness of the eyes. Symptoms may develop days or even weeks after exposure. But untreated infection can progress rapidly and damage the kidneys, liver and lungs, producing jaundice, kidney failure, hemorrhage and respiratory failure.

This is why early consultation and treatment are so important. The DOH itself advises people exposed to floodwater—even those without obvious wounds—to seek assessment at a health center or YAKAP clinic to determine whether post-exposure prophylaxis with doxycycline is indicated.

Here is what I find difficult to understand.

The DOH says there is no national shortage of medicine. It reported having distributed some 1.2 million doxycycline capsules to affected areas, with another 2.6 million available in regional health offices. Even earlier, DOH-Central Luzon reported distributing more than 200,000 doxycycline capsules in our region. The Health Secretary himself has assured the public that there is an adequate buffer supply.

And yet, on the ground, we are hearing: “Wala na pong gamot.”

If the medicine exists in government warehouses but is unavailable when a flood victim presents himself at a barangay health center, then the problem is no longer simply one of supply. It is a problem of access, distribution and public-health delivery.

And when the consequence of that failure can be kidney failure, pulmonary hemorrhage, dialysis—or death—then we cannot treat it as a minor logistical problem.

There is something scandalous about this.

Centuries have passed since the Black Death swept through Europe and wiped out entire communities at a time when people knew almost nothing about bacteria, antibiotics, epidemiology or modern public health. We live in a very different age. We know what causes leptospirosis. We know how it is transmitted. We know how to reduce the risk after exposure. We know how to treat it when detected early. We have antibiotics. We have laboratories. We have hospitals. We have an entire government health system.

People should not be dying simply because the medicine did not reach them in time.

I therefore appeal urgently to the Department of Health, especially DOH-Central Luzon: please look beyond the figures in the warehouses and verify the situation at the barangay level, particularly in communities that have remained flooded for days or weeks.

Please make sure that medicines actually reach the health centers where they are needed. Establish easily accessible leptospirosis consultation and prophylaxis points in heavily flooded communities. Make the public know where medicines are available. And where barangay stocks have run out, replenish them immediately.

Flooding is already a calamity. It should not be allowed to become a preventable epidemic.

The poor have already had to wade through filthy floodwaters because they often have no other choice. They should not have to wade through another flood afterward—a flood of bureaucracy, unavailable medicines and inaccessible health care—just to stay alive.