One Sunday, my wife and I were sitting quietly in the back pew of our church when the priest began reading the banns of marriage. You know the part—where names are announced, wedding dates declared, and the community is gently invited: If anyone knows of any reason why these couples should not be joined…
It’s a tradition that’s been around for centuries. But that day, it struck me differently. Here was the Church, laying things bare. Names spoken aloud. Intentions made public. A sacred union, not just between two people, but witnessed—and guarded—by the whole community.
Then I read the news.
Apparently, back in 2016, then-Ombudsman Conchita Carpio-Morales ordered the dismissal of Senator Joel Villanueva over alleged misuse of public funds. But in 2019, that decision was quietly reversed by then-Ombudsman Samuel Martires. No press release. No public notice. No announcement in the Senate. The reversal only came to light recently, when current Ombudsman Crispin Remulla stumbled upon it while preparing to enforce the original ruling.
And I couldn’t help but think: Was this a secret marriage?
Not of lovers, of course—but of legal decisions. A union between silence and power. A ceremony held behind closed doors, with no priest, no witnesses, and no chance for people to object.
The Church’s Way: Celebration in the Light
In the Church, marriage is a celebration. Even before the wedding, the banns are read aloud—not to shame, but to protect. It’s a way of saying: We care. We’re watching. We’re part of this celebration.
It’s not just about transparency. It’s about trust. About giving the community a voice. About making sure that what’s sacred isn’t secretly sabotaged.
Even if no one objects, the act of announcing matters. It’s a gesture of honesty. A public promise.
The Government’s Way: Silence in the Shadows
Now contrast that with what happened in the Ombudsman’s office. A major decision—the reversal of a dismissal order against a sitting senator—was made in silence. No publication. No explanation. No invitation for scrutiny.
It’s not just about legality. It’s about mood. About the difference between a joyful announcement and a whispered erasure.
In the Church, transparency is part of the celebration. In government, secrecy too often becomes part of the strategy.
And here’s the twist. Senator Villanueva isn’t just a public official—he’s a leader in the Jesus Is Lord Church, a Christian movement that preaches integrity, truth, and accountability. Yet here he is, submerged in a legal reversal that was kept secret for years. No announcement. No explanation. No transparency.
The irony is hard to miss. The very values his church proclaims—walking in the light, speaking truth, honoring the public—seem to have been quietly set aside. And if even our faith leaders in government are drawn into the shadows, what hope do ordinary citizen have?
Interestingly, this secret reversal isn’t an isolated case. Back when Samuel Martires was Ombudsman, he also issued a ruling that restricted public access to SALNs—the very documents that help citizen track the wealth of public officials. Journalists and watchdogs were blocked from seeing them, all in the name of protecting reputations. But many saw it differently: as a shield for those in power.
Just recently, Ombudsman Remulla reversed that policy, restoring access. But the message lingered: when it comes to accountability, silence wasn’t just a slip—it was starting to look like a system.
And when silence becomes a system, the people are left out of their own democracy.
Ombudsman Crispin Remulla on reopening SALNs to public
The Flood Control Scandal: When Secrecy Drowns Us
And now, as floodwaters rise and billions in ghost projects are exposed, the cost of secrecy becomes painfully clear. The flood control scandal—ghost projects, substandard infrastructure, and missing accountability—isn’t just about corruption. It’s about betrayal.
We are wading through waist-deep water while billions meant to protect us are lost in silence. While the Church reads names aloud to protect a marriage, our government buries names to protect its own.
This isn’t just a metaphor. It’s a warning.
A Teaching Moment
I’m not here to judge the legal merits of the case. That’s for the courts and the lawyers. But as a citizen—and as someone who still believes in the power of truth—I think we deserve better.
If the Church can announce weddings, surely the government can announce reversals.
If priests can read names aloud in front of the whole congregation, surely public officials can explain their decisions to the people who pay their salaries.
In the end, transparency isn’t just a legal requirement. It’s a moral one. It’s what turns power into service. And silence into trust.
The banns of marriage aren’t just about love. They’re a reminder that truth, too, deserves to be spoken aloud.
Content & editing put together in collaboration with Bing Microsoft AI-powered Co-Pilot
Head photo courtesy of Shutterstock; design by Canva
Still photos courtesy of Shutterstock, Getty Images, Dreamstime.com, Philstar/Ryan Baldemor, Philstar cartoon/Rene A Aranda, & Freepik
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