“I hope we no longer repeat our mistakes in the last four decades. May we remember that, especially in 2028,” Rappler multimedia reporter Dwight de Leon quoted Cardinal Pablo Virgilio David as saying during the 40th anniversary of the 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution. Dwight, in his report, noted that the cardinal addressed the elephant in the room, which is the 2028 presidential election.

David then added: “It is disheartening when we struggle to find the right leaders who will truly fortify our democratic institutions… but we should not give up the dream of EDSA.”

Notice the phrasing. Cardinal David wouldn’t be lamenting the lack of good leaders if he saw those qualities in Vice President Sara Duterte, the only politician yet to declare her 2028 presidential bid. And yet, the cardinal stops short of naming her. Why?

There is another elephant in the room that Cardinal David did not confront: the Catholic Church in the Philippines itself. Once the thunderous moral conscience behind a historic uprising, it has spent 40 years not shepherding the predominantly Catholic country but rubber-stamping mediocrity, standing mute while democracy was mauled again and again by those who should have been held to account.

The late Jaime Cardinal Sin in 1986 named the first Marcos regime as corrupt and tyrannical. He identified the real and continuing threat then, and that was moral clarity, not partisanship. Contrast that with a Church that now prefers the soporific lullaby of ambiguity. It is more content blessing those in power than confronting them. The Church helped give birth to EDSA, and then orphaned it.

Our democracy teeters on a precarious edge. Corruption festers in plain sight, authoritarian tendencies creep into law and governance, and moral rot gnaws at institutions meant to protect the public good. And yet, amid this decay, the Church, which is the moral compass of over 80% of Filipinos, often whispers behind vague pastoral letters and oblique statements.

The separation of Church and State is a principle born of hard-won struggles across centuries against theocratic authority. Its purpose was never to render religious conscience mute, but to prevent the state from imposing faith while leaving moral voice intact. It exists to block theocracy, but not to permit the decay of democracy.

In other words, it protects governments from clerical domination, but it does not forbid the Church from speaking truth to power, from condemning corruption, or from holding rulers accountable when they betray the public good. To confuse institutional neutrality with moral silence is to pervert the very principle meant to safeguard both freedom and conscience.

Silence, ambiguity, and cryptic warnings embolden those who would dismantle democracy. A Church that refuses to name agents of malice – the puwersa ng kasamaaan and puwersa ng kadiliman – becomes a silent accomplice.

It is not enough to hint at wrongdoing or lob moral jabs short of naming names. The Church must call out, without fear or equivocation, those who act as agents of destruction disguised as concerned politicians.

History provides a precedent in Cardinal Sin who did not mince words in the 1980s. He did what needed to be done and said what must be said against the moral rot infecting the Marcos regime, and then played a major role in mobilizing citizens to reclaim the country’s moral and civic center by ousting the dictator.

I understand, as my friend, The Religion Reporter’s Paterno Esmaquel II, notes, the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of the Philippines is not a monolith. Its structure is more like a federation than a single hierarchy. Each bishop governs his own diocese and answers only to the Pope in Rome.

As such, the CBCP cannot compel compliance; it can only coordinate and offer guidance that bishops may choose to follow or ignore.

Not every silence or timid statement reflects the institution as a whole. Some bishops, notes Paterno, have spoken plainly despite the traditional interpretation that Canon law bars priests from taking partisan positions except in extraordinary circumstances. The catch, as Paterno points out, is that their influence is limited to their own dioceses – they do not command the vast territory Cardinal Sin once did.

Paterno also notes that Cardinal Sin’s extraordinary influence and power came from the Archdiocese of Manila, which once spanned the entire Metro Manila and even Rizal. In the Church’s structure, priests follow their bishop. Since the early 2000s, Manila has been divided into six dioceses, dispersing that authority. No bishop today can easily replicate the reach Sin once exercised.

The Church need not endorse candidates in every election, but when democracy itself is threatened, moral clarity demands direct confrontation. Evasive language in such moments is betrayal. The faithful deserve neither hedging nor hesitation.

The Catholic Church in the Philippines is a sleeping giant. It presides over a population so overwhelmingly Catholic that its moral pronouncements carry the power to shape public conscience. To cower behind ambiguous pastoral statements while corruption and authoritarianism advance is both cowardly and self-defeating. Its voice should be a clarion call, and not a whisper muffled by fear.

Moral guidance is not political partisanship. Speaking truth to power is illuminating right and wrong, calling out injustice, exposing corruption and abuse, and identifying exactly those who threaten to bring the country down the gutter.

When leaders and politicians threaten free speech, erode judicial independence, or trample human dignity, the Church must name them. The faithful cannot defend the country’s moral and civic foundations if their spiritual leaders speak in riddles.

Cryptic statements and cautious euphemisms are often cowardice in a cassock. The propagators of decay rely on the Church’s reluctance to call out wrongdoing, assuming fear or institutional caution will temper moral critique.

The Church wields a power far greater than fear: conscience itself. To wield it, it must awaken, shake off its self-imposed silence, navigate its structural challenges, and speak plainly about the threats, and those behind them.

The Church leaders must ask themselves: will they summon their long-dormant power to confront those who threaten the country, or will they remain timid bystanders, offering advice that requires a decoder ring?

Say what you mean. Speak plainly. What is needed is a Church that strikes with moral authority – boldly, clearly, and without apology.

Courage matters, but structural limits bind our Church leaders. We get that. Yet of all people, the bishops should know right from wrong and act without hesitation. If they cannot distinguish between decency and indecency, moral and immoral or “good and evil,” then what use are they to their God and flock?

Navigating these limits is the bishops’ task, but delay risks the country falling apart again. They need to put their act together quickly. The Church’s dormant moral force must move.

The time for whispers has long passed. Pastilan. – Rappler.com