By Herman M. Lagon
We like to think our Sunday worship bleeds into Monday’s choices. Yet time and again, many devout followers brandish their rosaries at Mass only to cast ballots for patrons whose pockets, not principles, line their campaign coffers. This contradiction between faith and vote did not spring up overnight. It has deep roots in cultural habits, economic desperation and a political system that rewards favors over fundamentals. Understanding why our sacred convictions seldom curb our electoral shortcuts may be the first step toward closing that gap.
From childhood we learn utang na loob—“debt of gratitude.” When a barangay captain delivers rice subsidies or foots a neighbor’s hospital bill, loyalty exceeds legality. Religion teaches charity, yet the immediacy of personal favors feels more concrete than abstract commandments. It is easier to thank a man who funds your child’s school supplies than to uphold an invisible ethic of civic probity. In a culture of reciprocity, voters shrug at stolen public funds when those same patrons fill their empty rice bowls.
Then there is what psychologists call moral compartmentalization. We wear different hats on different days: a pious one in church and a pragmatic one at the polling booth. A candidate who shortcuts building permits might be forgiven if he appears at Sunday’s service, genuflecting and confessing. In our minds, faith and politics occupy separate shelves. We place our book on morality on one shelf and our voter’s guide on another shelf—never mind that they should be placed together.
Economic insecurity intensifies this split. With rising prices and scarce jobs, a broken promise that delivers immediate relief often outweighs an unbroken vow that delivers structural reform a decade hence. Voters rationalize, “He is not perfect, but he can get things done.” When your family’s survival depends on scholarships, allowances or job placements, ideal honest-to-goodness candidates without muscle and money seem impractical “luxuries.”
Weak institutions reinforce resignation. When courts and media fail to sanction corrupt officials, parishioners adjust their moral compass downward. Corruption becomes “just that’s how government works,” as common as jaywalking. Even faithful leaders—condemning sin from the pulpit—sanction known offenders at board meetings, trading silence for clout. Over time, outrage fades into acquiescence.
Our religious life is itself syncretic. Devotion to saints and folk rituals mixes with pragmatic hopes: vote for X, and your irrigation canal will be fixed. Our spirituality often centers on personal blessings—health, wealth, employment—rather than on social justice, human rights or communal uplift. The ballot box is less a moral sacrament than a transactional altar where we pray for projects and patronage.
Clergy emphasize personal holiness without spelling out political discipleship. Parishioners hear lessons on turning the other cheek but seldom on turning away from political dynasties. Honest living in private does not always translate into honest voting in public. We fill our spiritual tanks with sermons but leave without a roadmap for real-world civic engagement—fact-checking propaganda, refusing vote-buying or demanding transparency.
Fear also muzzles action. In barangays ruled by political clans, opposing the local boss can mean social exile—or worse. Love your neighbor may be preached in church, but fear of retribution or exclusion often overrides Christian courage. Conscience bows to community pressure as families weigh the social cost of voting their principles.
We do have resources for change. First, churches may more effectively—not just self-righteously—bridge the pulpit and the polling place, teaching that honesty at home demands honesty in public. Priests, pirs and pastors can link charity at Mass, khutbah or service with civic charity—holding leaders accountable, not just forgiving their sins.
Second, more programmatic small-scale “civic exercises” in parishes, masjids or congregations—mock elections, candidate forums, voter registration drives—can cultivate civic virtue. These activities transform abstract values into concrete habits, encouraging parishioners to treat their votes as sacred trusts, not mere rituals of expediency.
Third, faith communities may fortify partnerships with local media and watchdog groups of all platforms to strengthen transparency. When sermons are followed by citizen journalism workshops, moral norms gain muscle. Congregations learn to spot misinformation and lobby for better governance, shifting from silent resignation to active oversight.
Finally, broader and deeper safe spaces for honest conversation—without fear of reprisal—can empower voters to cast ballots with integrity. Regular town hall dialogues in church halls can give voice to doubts and hopes, forging a deeper connection between spiritual formation and social action.
The journey from private piety to public integrity demands more than well-meaning platitudes. It calls for a cultural shift—a willingness to subject our politicians to the same standards we uphold in confession. If faith can shape our Sunday behavior, it can also shape our ballot-casting. As Tieza Santos points out in her Rappler piece, “From elections to the conclave: Filipino contradictions in faith and politics,” we stand at a crossroads where faith and democracy must converge rather than collide (Santos, 2025). Only then will our votes reflect our values and not merely our immediate needs.
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Doc H fondly describes himself as a lifelong learner who, like many others, dreams of a more life-giving and purpose-driven world built on justice, reflection and joy. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he serves.
