A thief can look like a holy man if the right pastor stands beside him.
A politician robs the people on Monday, then sits in the front row in church on Sunday. The pastor lays a hand on him, calls him a friend of God, and says nothing about the stealing. The photo does the rest. And we think: a man blessed like that can’t be all bad.
That is the lie. And the pastor knows it is a lie.
Let me be fair before I get angry, because anger only counts when it is fair. Our Catholic bishops did not keep quiet about the flood-control robbery. Last September they told the country that corruption should make us ashamed again, and they named the contractors and the patrons behind them.
So this is not about the whole Church. Most pastors keep to their calling: they baptise the children, bury the dead, and never tell you who to vote for. My anger is for the others, the ones who use religion on purpose to win public office, and to squeeze money and power out of God.
For some of them, religion was never really about God. It was a business, and a first step toward power. The offerings come in weekly, untaxed. You get a stage and a microphone. Build it for years and you have a crowd that already believes you speak for God. Starting a church is now one of the cheapest ways into power.
No longer content to preach, they wanted to rule. They walked into office promising God in government, and brought only themselves. The pastor who once asked for your soul now asks for your vote, and says God wants it that way.
At election time, candidates line up for a pray-over. The preacher prays over the man he expects to win. But let him lose, and watch how fast that pastor disappears. A real shepherd would stay with the sheep that fall.
And look at how they live: the big houses and the watches no honest income explains. The faith talk is on purpose, to make you watch his hands and forget his pockets.
This is the real trick. When a respected pastor stands beside an accused official and smiles, the message is plain: God is on his side, so the charges must be lies. That is how a stolen reputation gets washed clean.
Notice where the outrage goes. The same preachers who lost their voice over half a trillion stolen pesos find it the moment a rival appears. Pulpit and politician close ranks against one enemy and call it a crusade. What they shout about, and what they stay quiet about, tells you everything.
I cannot prove any pastor was paid to stay silent, and I will not pretend I can. But that silence has a price: his land, his permit, the case that quietly disappears. The politician looks clean, and God’s name did the laundry.
The one who pays is the believer in church. Instead of something true, he gets a list of names to vote for, wrapped in Bible verses. His belief becomes a vote, and a shield for men he would never trust with his wallet.
My own worst memory of church is not from the news. It was an ordinary Sunday. I sat waiting for the homily, and instead of the Gospel the priest attacked a politician. No one had provoked it, and everyone knew who he meant: the opposition candidate. I came for God and got a campaign. I have not gone back since.
I grew up on the sound of church bells ringing over EDSA, calling ordinary people into the streets to face the tanks. Back then the Church frightened dictators. Now too many of its preachers pose with the men they should be frightening. But I have sat through enough rallies to tell a man of God from a man selling God, and lately the sellers have been busy.
Here is the question. We already stopped believing the politicians, then the newspapers, then the courts. If we stop trusting the preachers too, if a blessing can be bought and God’s name sold like everything else in this country, then the corrupt will not even need to silence us. There will be nothing left that we believe in enough to fight for.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and are intended to encourage public discussion on governance and national issues. They do not represent any official position of the institutions the author may be affiliated with.
About the Author:
Paul Y. Chua, PhD, holds doctoral degrees in Fiscal Management and Peace and Security, and a master’s degree in National Security Administration. He has completed executive programs in several countries, specializing in transport, migration, urban planning, and public policy, with emphasis on governance, innovation, and integrity.
