The well-attended prayer rally for transparency and accountability last Nov. 30 saw the happy emergence of the leader of the anti-corruption campaign here in Cebu, or even in the whole country. He is no other than Archbishop Alberto S. Uy, who is merely two months old as the leader of the Archdiocese of Cebu, the biggest local church in the Philippines in terms of the number of priests.
His well-written speech at the inter-faith rally and his homily during the Eucharist were strongly worded against those who have allegedly stolen trillions of our hard-earned pesos. At least in the substance of his message, we can recall the denunciations uttered by the prophets of the Hebrew Bible. He said that the stolen amount could have brought hope to millions and eased the burdens of many and could have changed the destiny of our beloved country. He asked those alleged to be kurakot, “When was the last time you cried for your people?” He challenged them to repent and return what was stolen.
But what strikes me more meaningfully is his invitation for all of us protesters to examine ourselves whether we are guilty of the same lack of transparency and accountability that we so loudly condemn. Is it not possible that the call for transparency would boomerang on many of the educational institutions, religious organizations, or even of the local church herself? The Archbishop was even more courageous and prophetic because the call was two pronged: addressed to those suspected of corruption and to ourselves. Even outside the context of that prayer rally, the call for accountability is constant in the talks given by the good Archbishop. To put it in my own words, we should stop piously saying that we are answerable only to God, for such thought is far from real piety.
Precisely because of the call for an examination of our own practices, it cannot be accused of being one-sided.
Indeed, we do well to remember that when we point an accusing finger, (which is an imperative these days), at least three other fingers are pointed at us.
To emphasize this point, let me recall a situation in Philippine Church history with a glaring parallel with the situation today. Note that I am not saying that this example from the past is totally the same with what the Church is confronted with at this moment. Rather, as the next paragraph will show, I am pointing out a particular parallel.
An important figure in Philippine Church history is Fr. Mariano Sevilla, the heir apparent of Jose Burgos and company. He was accused of being involved in the so-called Cavite Mutiny of 1872, and was exiled to the Marianas. When he returned, he continued to champion the rights of the Filipino secular clergy against the Spanish friars. But even as he fought against the system that subordinated the native clergy to the Spanish friars, he also acknowledged the deficiencies of the former. He called on his fellow secular clergy to honor the priesthood by their virtue and by their learning. For him, it was not that one was purely good and the other purely evil.
This point needs to be stressed since protestation against systemic corruption may become a fad and those few who have never been paragons of transparency may join the chorus, “Mga kurakot, ikulong na ’yan.” Priests and school heads may raise their fists in protest and demand that the law on the freedom of information be passed. But are we not secretive ourselves with our finances?
The question “When was the last time we cried for our people?” is addressed to all of us. There is indeed a gem of truth in the reflection that feeling of entitlement and the lack of empathy are the roots of corruption.
Indeed, when was the last time we cried for our people? It is written in the Gospels that Jesus was moved by compassion. Compassion means to suffer with others. As we continue to protest against corruption, let this come from our compassion for our suffering country, for the victims of the greed of the few.