Of the many themes associated with the Lenten season, it’s self-sacrifice that stands out the most, owing to the extreme difficulty — it must be painful, deadly, and done for the benefit of the wrongdoers — with which Jesus Christ demonstrated the essence central to its notion.
It’s one thing to be inspired by that all-out act of self-immolation; it’s quite another to do it yourself to save or aid the sinners or the ungrateful.
Despite the effortlessly imposing morality of such ultimate self-sacrifice, today’s column is not zeroed in on self-denial. The following is often viewed as a tale of self-abnegation.
It begins with a little boy who climbs an apple tree, swings from its branches, and eats her fruits. What the boy did made the tree happy. One day, the boy returned as a young man. He asked the tree for some money. The tree, having no money, told him to sell her fruits. So, the boy harvested and sold her fruits. The apple tree was happy to help the boy. After some time, the boy reappeared. He was already an adult. He told the tree he wanted to build a house. The tree happily gave the boy her branches. One day, the boy returned again, already an old man. He told the tree he needed a boat. The tree happily gave the boy her trunk so he could sail away. One day, the boy returned again. The tree said to him she had nothing more to give. The boy said he didn’t want anything; he was there only to tell the tree he was tired. To that, the apple tree offered again what remained of her, an aging stump. When the boy sat on the stump, you bet your bark, it made the tree happy again.
The author, Shel Silverstein, wrote and illustrated this story in 1964. He called it “The Giving Tree.” The story became controversial as it elicited inconsistent and conflicting reactions from the readers. The selflessness of the apple tree came nowhere close to the superhuman self-denial demonstrated by Christ in his final moments on earth, yet, to its indignant or disgusted critics, it’s a gross violation of the principle of reasonable egoism or selfishness every individual is entitled to.
I don’t want to focus on the religious value of having the fortitude to sacrifice oneself for the sake of the unthankful ones, who go by different names: infidels, sinners, abusive users, offenders, etc. Self-sacrifice is an overemphasized subject matter whose significance mainly resides in its execution.
Oddly, little attention was given to the self-immolator’s ungrateful beneficiary or whoever the boy in the story represents.
I can’t help but think that the relationship between the giving tree and the boy in the story is similar to the dynamic between the Filipino people and the highly privileged politicians — there probably are a few exceptions — in the Philippines. The boy, in this case, represents the unappreciative politicians, and the giving tree symbolizes the Filipino people. I say this for obvious reasons.
I don’t wish to start earlier than 1986. Since this year, the politicians, regardless of their colors, have had sufficient time to give back in equal measure to what they asked and generously received from the Filipino people. On top of what they had earnestly courted from the people is, of course, the immense power they wield. Beneath this politician’s highest value — without power, they are going nowhere — they also asked for the people’s patience and tolerance. And when they found these were not enough, they also asked for the people’s understanding, loyalty, unwavering support, and even blind faith in their leadership. When they felt these were still insufficient, they also courted the people’s trust, admiration, and love. What did the politicians earn from this? More power, networks of highly-placed connections, high salaries, privileges accessible only to the members of the so-called polite society, well-facilitated initiation and operation of family business ventures, fame, high-level safety and protection, and more economic opportunities for them and their families.
Did the Filipino people not really receive anything significant in return from the politicians who took turns leading the nation after the 1986 revolution? No, they did not. As we all know, the Philippines remains a “third-world country.” It has been 39 years; it already sounds annoying to keep using the diplomatic and euphemistic term “developing” to describe our country.
The terrible state of Philippine education deserves a special mention. Today, we have tens of millions of voters whose level of learning makes them think that misfits are legitimate alternatives to ineffective leaders at any level of governance. Election periods in the country reek of deteriorating general education despite nearly 40 long years of attempting to save the country from cultural and intellectual depletion.
Frankly, after almost four decades, our national tree is starting to look a little…stumpy. The time for the “boys and girls” to plant lots and lots of trees is long overdue.
The Giving Tree is a tender yet monstrous and graphic tale of abuse demonstrated by a physically growing person whose psyche conveniently embraced an Olympic-level of dependency, sense of entitlement, and immaturity. Whether or not the story is processed through the lens of environmentalism, governance, economics, or parent-child relationship, the beneficiaries of any form of extraordinary kindness have also moral duties to fulfill, one of which is not to abuse altruism, regardless of its breadth and depth. More than this, it’s morally incumbent upon the beneficiaries of kindness, especially if it is generously sustained, to reciprocate the generosity of their benefactors properly. Carrying out such moral responsibility prevents the deterioration of the beneficiaries into perpetually indolent and abusive receivers of support, approval, and other resources from the givers.
Givers who are characterologically willing to give up everything they have, even for the undeserving or unappreciative ones, should not be used to justify the vice of the receivers.
