The candidate (A Lenten election short story)
Paul stared outside his prison cell and tried to make sense of the events over the past month that had led to where he was sitting at that very moment. It all started when he was on the road to Comelec. As he liked to joke, contrary to what happened to his namesake in Damascus, there were no bright lights, strange voices, or temporary blindness that caused him to stop dead in his tracks; just a stranger who stepped in front of him from out of the blue and gently invited him for some “burjer” and fries in a nearby fast-food restaurant. The bearded stranger wore a plain bar-buttoned beige tunic with matching trousers and sandals that Paul at first thought that he was a spa attendant. He, on the other hand, looked very dignified in a sleek barong that carefully hid his reputation as a sleazy though highly prized political operator. Paul wanted to push the man away as he was already late for a meeting that he hoped would soon land him a powerful position in Malacañang. But when he looked into the man’s piercing eyes, it was as if he got hypnotized. Without really knowing why, he followed the man inside the restaurant. After ordering, they both sat down and ate in silence. Paul had already almost finished his food when he mustered enough courage to ask, “Who are you?”
The man smiled and answered, “I’m Jesus. I’ve heard the pleas of my people and have returned to run for President of the Philippines. I want you to be my campaign manager.”
Paul was stupefied and suddenly felt very foolish. He was known in political circles as the great spin master. A spokesman who could seamlessly turn the truth into lies and lies into the truth. He felt extremely embarrassed at the thought of someone like him being conned by a looney. He had not always been like that though. In his youth, he had worked with the poor and had even entertained thoughts of becoming a priest. But he soon found Christianity to be a very difficult faith. He started making compromises here and there and before he knew it, he had become a very different kind of miracle worker — someone who may not be able to change water into wine but who could add as many zeros as you wanted to your vote count. Without a word, he abruptly stood up and started to leave when the man quietly said, “Don’t go yet, have some more fries.”
Paul was about to make a biting reply when he noticed that his empty plate was once more full of fries. He blinked his eyes and reached for his glass to drink but only ice had remained. “Sorry about that,” the man continued, “...please have more to drink, too.” Paul almost gagged as soda suddenly started flowing from the empty glass on his lips. He slumped back into his chair in disbelief and muttered, “Oh my God...”
“Yes, my son?” Jesus replied.
Things happened so quickly after that and it now all seemed to him like a blur. Paul remembered feeling so ecstatic at being part of the campaign team of a “sure winner” where he no longer had to lie or cheat in order to win. Candidate Jesus would be unstoppable and he fantasized about how futile the efforts of the other politicians would be. The reputedly richest candidate could fully convert his campaign sorties into noontime television extravaganzas and fill his stage with all the celebrities and gyrating hot babes he could buy. But no way could he compete with raising people from the dead! If he tried vote buying, Jesus could simply counter by multiplying enough loaves of bread and sacks of rice to last till the next elections! Paul couldn’t also wait for the presidential debates to begin so that Jesus could rain down exquisite parables and allegories on the other supposedly charismatic and intelligent candidates and reduce them into whimpering Pharisees. Hah! And if the hawks tried to play dirty and unleash their goons, Jesus’ angels would blast all of them to kingdom come! Paul laughed at there being a real NoEl or No Election scenario after all. He predicted that people wouldn’t even vote anymore on May 10 — they would simply line the streets to Malacañang with flowers and branches of palm trees for Jesus.
Following a very promising launch, however, Jesus’ campaign inexplicably went steadily downhill. After all the initial hosannas, people just started leaving. No matter how hard Paul tried to convince Him, Jesus refused to do miracles. Not even a card trick. Instead, Jesus told the crowds that they had to dig deep down inside themselves and make their own miracles. When the other candidates emptied their war chests and flooded the electorate with cash and other giveaways, all Jesus could offer was that old saying about people not living on bread alone. Worse, He told them to sell all their possessions and give them away. The other spin masters also had a field day when He opted not to counter their vicious mudslinging and character assassination, saying that those were their words, not His. Jesus’ supporters were soon getting harassed and when they complained to Him about it, He told them that if they wanted to follow Him, they all had to carry their own crosses. As His popularity dwindled, the current powers-that-be saw a chance to steal the elections from all of the candidates and made their move. Eventually, even the so-called activists deserted Him when He refused to go along with a coup d’etat. Despite his non-violent stance, the authorities swiftly swooped down and charged Jesus with rebellion. Paul stood by him till the end. And that was how he ended up inside a cramped jail in Camp Crame instead of some plush office in the Palace.
But in spite of everything that happened, Paul experienced a sense of contentment that he had not felt in a long time. He felt young again and remembered what that other Paul had said a long time ago about fighting the good fight. It would have sounded corny to his old jaded self just a month ago, but he felt peace and comfort now at having rediscovered his long lost ideals and knowing that he had remained faithful to them even if for just a brief election period. He looked across the cell to where Jesus serenely sat and called out, “Well, it seems like we lost the vote. What do we do now?”
Candidate Jesus looked straight into his soul and replied, “My son, my son, this is but one election and in the infinity of time, there will be billions and billions more elections to come. I came back this time to try to win only one vote. Yours.”
Paul then thought he heard the sound of flapping wings after which the doors of their prison cells suddenly swung open. Jesus winked and said to him, “Now, how about going out again for some ‘burjer’ and fries?”
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