JR

He’s got a province named after him. And a park. And a high-rise condominium. There used to be a sports stadium bearing his name. And practically every town and city in this country has a street–usually the main street–in his name.

Wednesday marks the 141st birth anniversary of Jose Rizal, still our national hero, despite attempts to replace him with others also of great importance in our country’s history.

My god-daughter Charvee announced to me last Sunday, "Rizal married Josephine Bracken, you know," and added, in response to my surprised reaction, "on December 29, 1896. That’s the product of my research." Charvee is a junior in high school, and what surprised–and delighted–me was that she was doing research on Jose Rizal.

There was a time in the not-too-distant past when it was so politically incorrect to sing Rizal’s praises as a national hero. Rizal was burgis–he was from a relatively well-to-do family, he was an intellectual who studied abroad, he wrote–in Spanish at that–novels instead of fighting battles, he advocated reform instead of revolution, he loved (and married, according to my god-daughter) a foreigner. Many of my generation felt that way, like museum consultant and man-about -town John Silva, who concludes this week his two-part travelogue (please see page 4) recalling a trip he took through Europe, visiting many of the places that Rizal visited. His belated realization of the vital role that Rizal–and other ilustrados like him–played in the revolution that gave birth to our nation is shared by many who used to denigrate Rizal in favor of Andres Bonifacio, founder of the Katipunan. I remember award-winning choreographer Agnes Locsin feeling the same way; only when she did extensive research on Rizal in preparation for her acclaimed dance piece Elias did she realize how brilliant, how much of a hero, Rizal really was.

In college we had to recite Mi Ultimo Adios in front of the class in order to pass Spanish (I’m dating myself, aren’t I?), and we tried all sorts of tricks to get through the oral exams without having to actually memorize the poem. Now when I read it, in Spanish and in English, I find myself appreciating how beautiful and how profound this last testament is. Rizal loved his country, he saw her suffering, he tried to help her the best way he knew how–with his mind, with his words, with the power of his convictions. And ultimately he gave his life for his country–our country.