The Catholic Church - In The Middle of All This Mess

 

The universe has just witnessed a moment of absolute comedic genius. 

Former Presidential Spokesperson Harry Roque—speaking from a highly classified, subterranean coordinates known only to himself, his mobile data provider, and presumably the angels—looked out at a Tuesday morning traffic jam on EDSA and hollered across space and time: “Catholic Church, where are you?!”

It is an enchanting question. It implies that the largest spiritual institution in the archipelago, with its 80 million members, massive stone cathedrals on every street corner, and centuries-old parish networks, has somehow misplaced itself. 

Did it fall behind the couch? Is it stuck in the EDSA Ortigas split?

The response from the Catholic faithful has arrived, and it is a masterclass in polite, devastating reality.

The Catholic Church’s official reply is beautifully simple: We have always been exactly where we’re supposed to be.

For decades, while various political actors were busy switching parties, rewriting their resumes, or perfecting TikTok dances, the Church has been on a rather monotonous loop. 

Election after election, century after century, bishops, priests, and lay leaders have consistently repeated the exact same, seemingly boring advice:

"Do not sell your votes. Do not be blinded by popularity. Choose leaders who are morally upright, honest, competent, and committed to the common good. Do not support candidates known for corruption, dishonesty, or those carrying serious legal baggage."

It is a steady, unwavering message. The Church didn't suddenly wake up this Tuesday morning and discover that corruption is a sin. 

They didn’t wait for a 75 million pesos "private donation" controversy to realize that public office is a public trust. They’ve had this on the syllabus since the year 1521.

The absolute irony of Harry’s question is that it ignores a fundamental law of physics: To hear a message, you actually have to stop talking long enough to listen.

When the Church repeatedly warned the nation against voting for candidates with active plunder cases, history of anomalies, or unexplained wealth, what did the political ecosystem do?

 They turned up the volume on the campaign jingles, handed out the crisp bills, and told the voters that "good morals" are a luxury we can't afford in real politics.

And now, when the inevitable harvest arrives—when a politician proudly brags about taking millions in cash and the Ombudsman comes knocking with a non-bailable arrest warrant—the very people who ignored the warnings turn around and gasp: "My goodness! Where was the Church to protect us from the consequences of our own choices?!"

Rather than asking, "Where is the Catholic Church?" perhaps Harry and his fellow rally-planners should ask a few questions that are a bit more introspective:

Did we listen when the Church spoke about human dignity and the rule of law?

Did we heed the moral guidance when we were told that loyalty to truth must always prevail over loyalty to personalities?

Did we vote according to conscience, or did we treat our sample ballots like a transaction sheet?

The Church is right where it has always been: offering prayers, running hospitals, feeding the poor, and quietly reminding everyone that you reap exactly what you sow. 

They don't need to rent a stage at the People Power Monument to prove they exist.

So as we pray for the country, let us also pray for Harry. Not just for his spiritual enlightenment, but also that he finally finds his way out of hiding. 

Because it is incredibly difficult to hear the Church’s answer when he is shouting from an undisclosed location.