Friends and Filipinos abroad could wag their tongue on this. Or sigh a short prayer for this country. It is plain dark, sickening, and damned. Maybe I take the evening news too seriously. Yesterday, another local radio journalist who aggressively grinded with illegal loggers was gunned to death. I regurgitate with disgust before my evening prayer. How in a country so Catholic and Christian in this order, could evil walk in broad daylight, and walk triumphantly over fumbled, bullet-riddled bodies? How, in a country with cathedrals and congregational churches packed to the last pew on Sundays, could mercenaries meander like stray, deranged dogs? Extra-judicial killings aside, radio journalists according to the Committee to Protect Journalists are the most vulnerable because “they are largely invisible to the outside world while being extremely visible in the communities.” And faith? Christian faith for this matter with the orphaned before us while the mercenaries’ employers puff endlessly their abano ala-Bonnano godfather? Help me pray this psalm. Who knows, we might move Heaven’s righteousness, not ours.
Why, Lord, do you stand at a distance and pay no heed to these troubled times?
Arrogant scoundrels pursue the poor; they trapped them by their cunning schemes.
The wicked even boast of their greed; these robbers curse and scorn the Lord.
In their insolence the wicked boast: “God doesn’t care, doesn’t even exist.”
Yet their affairs always succeed; they ignore your judgment on high; they sneer at all who oppose them.
They say in their hearts, “We will never fall; never will we see misfortune.”
Their mouths are full of oaths, violence and lies; discord and evil are under their tongues.
They wait in ambush near towns; their eyes watch for the helpless, to murder the innocent in secret.
They lurk in ambush like lions in a thicket, hide their trap to the poor, snare them and close the net.
The helpless are crushed, laid low; they fall into the power of the wicked, who say in their hearts, “God pays no attention, shows no concern, never bothers to look.”
Rise up, Lord God! Raise your arm! Do not forget the poor! Why should the wicked scorn God, say in their hearts, “God doesn’t care”?
But you do see; you do observe the misery and sorrow; you take the matter in hand. To you the helpless can entrust their cause; you are defender of the orphans.
Break the arms of the wicked and depraved; make them account for their crimes; let none of them survive.