Yesterday marked the last day of the three-day 2025 Bar Examinations. As I watched the examinees emerge from their testing centers, relieved and hopeful, I couldn’t help but be brought back to my own journey last year. The anxiety, the long nights of review, and the pursuit of wanting to make a change — all of it came rushing back, reminding me of the heart that carried me through.
But as we celebrate the end of this year’s Bar exams, it’s worth reminding ourselves: the Bar is more than just a rite of passage or a test of endurance. It is a constitutional pillar. Under the 1987 Constitution, the Supreme Court holds the exclusive authority to regulate admission to the practice of law. This means that only the Supreme Court can determine the rules, qualifications, and standards for becoming a lawyer, including the conduct of the Bar Examinations. This power is exercised through Rule 138 of the Rules of Court, which lays down the qualifications, and through jurisprudence that continues to shape the legal profession.
This year’s takers span a mighty 11,000 hopefuls, who, under the law, are required to be Filipino citizens, at least 21 years of age, and residents of the Philippines. They must produce before the Supreme Court satisfactory evidence of good moral character, and that no charges against him or her, involving moral turpitude, have been filed or are pending in any court in the Philippines.
On top of that, they must have completed both pre-law and law degrees from recognized institutions, and beginning with the Class of 2023, the Clinical Legal Education Program (CLEP) has been added as a mandatory requirement, which I believe pushes law students out of the classroom and into real-world advocacy.
The Bar examinations are designed to test the examinee’s knowledge in core legal subjects, including Political Law, Commercial Law, Taxation, Civil Law, Labor Law, Criminal Law, Remedial Law, and Legal Ethics. To pass, a candidate must get a general average of at least 75 percent, without scoring below 50 percent in any subject, as outlined under Section 14, Rule 138 of the Rules of Court.
Yet beyond academic credentials, the cornerstone of Bar admission remains moral character. The practice of law is a privilege, not a right, and it is burdened with conditions—foremost among them, the maintenance of good moral character. That truth resonates with me now more than ever as I approach my first year in the profession.
The principle on good moral character is echoed in many decisions by the Supreme Court. In Leon v. Pedreña, A.C. No. 9401, October 22, 2013, the Court underscored that members of the Bar are clearly duty bound to observe the highest degree of morality and integrity in order to safeguard the reputation of the Bar. It’s safe to say that morality and integrity are not merely prerequisites for admission to the Bar but continuing obligations. To act contrary to these duties exposes members of the Bar to sanctions, including suspension or disbarment.
This is why passing the Bar, exhilarating as it is, does not yet make one a lawyer. The journey only ends— and truly begins—when the successful examinee takes the Lawyer’s Oath, signs the Roll of Attorneys, and receives that hard-earned license to practice. Only then is one entrusted with the immense privilege, and equally immense duty, of being an officer of the court.
Looking back, I realize that the Bar was both an ending and a beginning for me. It sealed years of study, sleepless nights, and countless prayers, belabored mostly by my late mom’s unwavering faith. But it also began a lifelong responsibility to live up to the ideals of the profession.
So, to the 2025 Bar examinees, my sincerest congratulations! Hold fast to your purpose, for your future oath binds you not to power or prestige, but to service. The legal profession needs more than just Bar passers; it needs principled advocates who will carry their title with integrity and humility.
To our future panyeros and panyeras, welcome to the journey. The nation awaits your service.
