Quibolloy and the Quake

Self-proclaimed "Appointed Son of God" Apollo Quibolloy made headlines once more by claiming he stopped a powerful quake in southern Philippines for which gracious act, he says, the country owes him a debt of gratitude.

Known to have, ala the Gallant Tailor, repeatedly stitched the titles The Way, The Truth, Conqueror of Satan, Owner of Souls and the Universe or some other seventy times seven names on his awesome belt, Quibolloy's latest declaration should not be surprising at all. Like that slick tailor in Brothers Grimm's fairy tales, he had crowned himself the Warrior-King by building his reputation on having swatted seven flies with one blow and passing it off as some miraculous feat.

But it amuses me nonetheless, and leaves me guessing what other assertions he will say next that will make many quake with laughter: Slain malevolent giants in a cosmic battle in a galaxy far, far away? Made snakes to speak in tongues? Got an ass to talk ala Shrek's sidekick? Commanded the moon to stand still over Davao City? Stopped a badly damaged nuclear sub in the Marianas Trench from exploding? Let's wait and see...

If he were just some random guy in the street spouting such ridiculous pronouncements, everyone would likely dismiss him as a kook who should be consigned to a Bedlam-like asylum. There, one could imagine him screaming at everyone saying, "Listen, you fools, Father-God just told me I am now his Appointed Son!" and some deeply offended dude in the corner of the room screaming back, "I told you no such thing!"

But no, in this 21st century world where the internet should make us better informed and less credulous, a crank like him actually heads a megachurch that pays for his kingly lifestyle (see video below). Watch one of his shows and get stunned at how his people sincerely clap at his rants and swallow hook, line and sinker every preposterous claim he makes.

Now, some other religious folks out there might be congratulating themselves for being discerning enough to see through the pretenses of this god from Davao, but I wonder if they have not also fallen into the same theological trap where Quibolloy's sheep are now in? Aren't pastors, priests and popes putting themselves on Quibolloy's pedestal when they routinely preachify about supposedly heaven-sent messages as if their thoughts are in sync with some divine brain waves? Is Quibolloy really different from ministers of various Christian sects who declare themselves as the sole proclaimers of truth or go by some fanciful titles, like "The Last Apostle for the Last Days?" Or from Pentecostal/Charismatic preachers who claim to raise the dead and cure cancer by the power of their prayer? Or from Evangelical pastors who make "The Pastor is always right" their overarching rule in church? Or from the Roman Pontiff who supposedly dons a cloak of infallibility when he speaks ex-cathedra? When we buy the idea that someone could truly speak for a divine extra-terrestrial being, do we not accord the same person the same or a similar status as Quibolloy's followers have given him?

Quibolloy has deservedly been getting a lot of flak for his delusion of grandeur. These criticisms, however, should generate self-reflection among the critics themselves. We need to take a step back to examine whether we too have set up lesser or greater Quibolloy icons in our personal sacred groves.

Apparently, the continuing random occurrence of quakes can and will never shake off Quibolloy's delusion -- just as no tornado will ever whisk most of his followers away to an earth-shattering discovery that their Wizard of Oz is really just another huckster from Lubao, Pampanga.

But the story of Quibolloy and the Quake is worth retelling if only to teach us that for anyone who sees himself as GOAT, "Greatest of All Time," a record-high piss is far more striking than any natural catastrophe or human tragedy. Or that natural calamities are divine acts meant to provide a chance to further magnify one's already bloated ego.