I fell in and out of sleep during the online video session of Jeff Cavins’ Unlocking the Mystery of the Bible series. Today, we were covering Creation. I would write notes for a few minutes, then fall asleep, wake up again, write some more, and then drift off once more. The cycle continued until the group returned to plenary.
This was only our second class, which Ingrid and I signed up for, and we still have a few more Mondays to go. The first session was more of an introduction than a class, simply explaining what to expect from the series.
The session did not become truly engaging until the plenary discussion, where classmates answered some of the reflection questions. The questions were rarely answered directly. One person would respond, another would offer an opinion, and the conversation would branch into different topics.
One particularly good question—obviously not part of the official discussion guide—was this: If God made Adam and Eve in His image and likeness, why did they disobey? Following that logic, does that make God imperfect? The person who asked it was genuinely curious, as she made clear, and not merely being pilosopo.
I am within two years of what people kindly call the golden years. That marker means something to me — not as a occasion for nostalgia, but as a vantage point. I have lived through enough of history to watch the world change, and to measure what that change has cost.
The last four decades have produced a revolution in communication unprecedented in human history. Information moves faster than thought. A message composed in London reaches Manila before the next heartbeat and spreads across a nation within minutes. We have never had this before, and we have not yet reckoned seriously with what it means.
The standard response has been to call technology neutral. The internet, social media, artificial intelligence — tools, nothing more. Their morality, we are told, lies entirely with the user. But philosopher Carissa Veliz has made a persuasive case against that comfort. Technology is not of God. It is man-made, which means it is designed with intention, shaped by interest, and loaded with the biases of its creators. More often than not, those biases run toward control. Toward dominance. Toward the capture of attention and the management of perception.
In 2020, I came across the podcast of Bishop Robert Barron while searching for topics on philosophy. At the time, I had been going to church regularly, but like many Catholics, I did not deeply understand what my faith truly meant. I practiced Catholicism largely out of tradition and the habits I learned from my family, although I had also been active in church youth groups during my teenage years.
After listening to his podcast, I was struck by the clarity of his explanations and the depth of his intellect. It appealed to me in a way I did not expect and awakened a deeper curiosity about the faith. I began listening to his talks every night before going to sleep, reading books he recommended, and watching many of his videos. Slowly, my relationship with the faith became more intentional rather than merely habitual.
The main theme of today’s gospel, Mark 4:35-41, is faith. It recounts Jesus and his disciples setting off across the lake in a boat, accompanied by other boats. As they sailed, a fierce storm arose, causing waves to fill the boat with water. Despite the chaos, Jesus was asleep in the stern. The disciples, fearing for their lives, woke him, questioning his concern for their safety. Jesus calmed the storm with a command, then questioned their fear and lack of faith, leaving them in awe of his power over nature.
I used to have lots of worries, causing much anxiety, and I believe many others experience this too. This is why the priest’s homily resonated with me. He said, “We worry more than we work.” To me, this means we must act, to keep on doing, forcing ourselves to do something rather than drown ourselves in anxiety. Somehow, my anxiety and worry dropped as I kept reminding myself of Einstein’s quote, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving,” and that Jesus will always sustain us.
After Mass, we checked out Bridgetown, but there was no place for a family lunch that we liked, so we followed Jaime’s suggestion and went to Parqal. The drive was quick, less than an hour. There are more visitors to the area now compared to last time we were there in February.
Gianetto was disappointing. During the pandemic, we used to order pizza from them. While the pizza was still good, their pasta Jaime ordered was average, with cut noodles. An Italian will surely make a scene if he received an order like that. The chicken Iuri ordered was tough. Even the complimentary bread, larger than croutons, was heated in the microwave. At 600 to 700 pesos per head, the price seemed overrated for the quality of food.
For dessert, we stopped by Dunkin’ because I was craving their coffee. The coffee was decent, but the ambiance was disappointing due to a K-Pop party on the second floor where fans were making a birthday greeting video for one of the members of Enhypen. The store was filled with loud cheers and shouts, and some customers seemed annoyed. However, it appeared to be good for business as turnover was much faster.
The day ended well because my Lumix LX5 battery and charger arrived today, bringing my 13-year-old camera back to life. It was the last nice compact camera I bought and used for contest entries. I plan to use it as an everyday carry and capture some moments. My last memories with it were in Intramuros and Binondo.
Today was a day centered around faith, family, and the camera, reminding us to view family through the lens of Catholic faith to nurture deeper connections, appreciate moments of joy and unity, and embrace the values that guide us in love, compassion, and faithfulness.
Panorama 