The text below is the transcript of a speech delivered by Representative Jude Acidre at the Our Lady of the Annunciation parish and Shrine of the Incarnation of the Diocese of Novaliches on April 5, upon the invitation of resident priest, Father Joel Saballa, deputy executive director of Caritas Novaliches.
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My dear friends, colleagues in public service, mga kapatid sa pananampalataya, let me begin with a story from the Gospel that never fails to move me.
One day, Jesus was walking through the town of Jericho. The streets were packed — people pushing, shouting, jostling for space, just to catch a glimpse of this teacher and healer who had stirred so many hearts.
In that crowd was a man named Zacchaeus.
Now Zacchaeus wasn’t just any man. He was a chief tax collector — wealthy, powerful, and deeply resented by his own people. His job was soaked in corruption. People saw him as a traitor, someone who made a comfortable life by exploiting others.
And maybe, just maybe, Zacchaeus knew that too.
Maybe he had grown tired of the weight of his choices, of being hated, of being far from the life he truly wanted.
So instead of forcing his way through the crowd, he climbed a sycamore tree, keeping his distance, yet longing for something more.
And then, something unexpected happened.
Jesus stopped. He looked up and He said the words that changed everything: “Zacchaeus, come down. I must stay at your house today.”
I must stay at your house.
Not “prove yourself first.” Not “make yourself worthy before I stay.” Not “fix your life before I come close.” Just: “Come down. I’m coming in.”
Jesus didn’t turn away from Zacchaeus’ reality. He entered into it, into his struggles, his brokenness. And that encounter — with mercy, with acceptance, with love — was enough to spark a transformation.
Zacchaeus came down from that tree, welcomed Jesus gladly to his home.
When the people saw this, they began to mutter: “He has gone to the house of a sinner.”
But Zacchaeus stood before the crowd, and he said to Jesus: “Here and now, half of my possessions I will give to the poor. And if I have cheated anybody out of anyone, I will pay them back four times over.”
What changed Zacchaeus? Not judgment. Not condemnation. But the radical love of Jesus, who met him where he was, and saw who he could become.
This, my friends, is what the Jubilee of Politicians is all about.
It is not a celebration of perfection, it is an invitation to transformation, a sacred moment, a time for conversion when we, as leaders, are invited to look inward and upward to ask not just what we do, but why we do it. And for whom.
Ito ang paanyaya ng Simbahan. Hindi upang ipagdiwang ang pulitika bilang larangan ng kapangyarihan, kundi bilang misyon ng pag-asa. Misyong muling binubuhay ang tunay na layunin ng paglilingkod.
Ang paglingkuran ang kapwa, lalo na ang mga nasa laylayan. Ang mga walang boses. Ang mga madalas nakakalimutan.
Just as Zacchaeus’ home became a place of redemption, so too can our public life become a space of renewal. A space where mercy replaces manipulation. Where compassion drives leadership. Where power is used to serve, not dominate.
We celebrate this Jubilee because we know politics needs a fresh start. Because, like Zacchaeus, many politicians today feel trapped. Trapped by questioning public perception. Wearied by a broken system and yet, silently longing for something greater, a deeper purpose and a higher call.
Pope Francis reminds us that politics is a lofty vocation. He calls it a noble form of charity. But he also sees what we see: shouting matches instead of dialogue, lies versus truth, destruction instead of discussion.
In his encyclical, Fratelli Tutti, he grieves the loss of honest, hope-filled politics, and calls us to reclaim it, not with apathy, but with courage.
That’s why the Church cannot look away. We are not called to stand at a distance. We are called to draw near.
This Jubilee is not just for those in office. It is for all of us — the Body of Christ — called to walk with one another and bring hope where it is most needed.
Ang pananampalataya at pulitika ay dapat magkasamang naglalakad. Hindi natin maaaring iwan ang ating pananampalataya sa labas ng ating mga opisina. Dapat nating dalhin ito, sa mga ahensiya, sa mga tanggapan at institusyon, mga bulwagan ng kapangyarihan kung saan pinapanday ang mga desisyong may epekto sa buhay ng milyon-milyong mga Pilipino.
Because that is where Christ must be—at the center of it all.
Let me offer five ways this mission becomes real. These are not abstract ideas; they are concrete actions that we, as leaders of faith, can take.
First: Dialogue. Let us create spaces of respectful conversation, where ideas can flourish, where differences are not threats but opportunities to grow. Dialogue is not about silencing one another; it is about listening to one another. It is about finding the truth not in volume, but in wisdom.
Second: Discernment. Politics often lives in the gray. But the Gospel gives us light. The Church helps us seek God’s will in murky waters, offering not easy answers, but a compass grounded in truth, justice, and mercy.
Third: Discipleship. We politicians are not only public servants, we are also pilgrims on the path to holiness, called to live out our faith in real and tangible ways. We are disciples in need of formation, of spiritual nourishment, of pastors who remind us that leadership without love is tyranny.
Fourth: Dignity. Every decision in public life must protect and uplift the inherent dignity of the human person, from the moment life begins to natural death. But not just in headline-making laws, or opposing harmful policies like abortion, divorce or euthanasia, but in proposing day-to-day decisions that protect life, that support families and lift the vulnerable—katulad sa mga proyektong pangkabuhayan, sa edukasyon, sa kalusugan, sa kapayapaan. Bawat tao ay mahalaga. Bawat tinig ay may halaga.
Fifth: Development. Progress is not merely measured by numbers. It is seen in lives transformed. In families lifted from poverty. In communities built on compassion. In a society where everyone—not just the privileged few—can thrive in body, mind, and spirit.
True development means putting God’s love into real solutions.
And yes, it’s hard. Politics can be discouraging. It can be isolating. It can test your deepest values.
But we must remember: corruption, a word that weighs heavily on our national conscience comes from the Latin cor (heart) and ruptus (broken). Literally, corruption means a broken heart.
It’s not just a system gone wrong. It’s a heart that has forgotten how to love.
Yet even a broken heart can be healed. Even a wounded system can be redeemed.
We must remember the story of the Good Samaritan. A man was left for dead on the side of the road. He was ignored by the priest. He was passed over by the Levite, by the very ones expected to help. But then someone — a Samaritan — saw. Someone, an outsider, stopped. That someone helped, cared, and acted.
Like the wounded man in the parable, our nation suffers from corruption, abuse of power and eroded public trust.
The question is, what do we do? What choice do we make?
This is the challenge of this Jubilee: To stop walking past. To bring faith into the broken places. To hope again.
But hope is not passive optimism. It is an active trust in God’s promises, and a commitment to work towards their fulfillment.
This Jubilee Year challenges us to see the world not as it is, but as it could be, where justice prevails, where every person is treated with dignity, where the common good is given priority.
Ang tanong, hanggang kailan tayo magpapanggap na walang nasasaktan, na walang sugatan, na walang nangangailangan ng tulong?
O tayo ba ay titindig, tayo ba ang lalapit, tayo ba ang magmamalasakit, at kikilos?
As Pope Francis says, “Hope speaks to us of a thirst, an aspiration, a longing for a life of fulfillment.”
And I know, many of us still thirst for meaning, for direction, for a politics that feels like a calling again, not just a career. This Jubilee is a chance to quench that thirst, not just for ourselves, but for the people we serve.
As a public servant myself, there are days when the burden feels heavy, when the criticism stings, when the pace is relentless, when the vision seems lost in the noise. But then I remember why I said yes, not for applause, but to serve. Not for recognition, but for mission.
And when I feel tired and weary, I return to this verse that has never failed me: “Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9)
So my dear brothers and sisters—don’t give up. Don’t give up on politics. Don’t give up on our country. Don’t give up on hope.
Because Christ is still calling Zacchaeus down from the tree. Because the wounded man on the road still needs us. Because this Jubilee is not just a event, it is a renewal that begins within. It is a revolution of the heart.
Panahon na para ibalik ang puso sa pulitika. Panahon na para muling maglingkod nang may pagmamahal, may tapang, at may pananampalataya.
Let us be the ones who breathe new life into public life. Let us bring light into the dark places.
Let us walk humbly. Lead boldly. And love radically.
Before I end, I ask you—Will you pray with me?
Let us pray.
Lord of mercy, God of all hope,
We come before You today—
Not as perfect leaders,
but as broken vessels longing to be made whole.
You see our hearts, our struggles, our weariness.
And yet You still call us by name.
Just as You called Zacchaeus down from that tree,
Call us too—down from pride,
from fear, from indifference.
Enter our homes.
Enter our lives.
Enter our politics.
Cleanse what is corrupted.
Heal what is wounded.
Renew what has grown cold.
Lord, help us to lead with justice,
To serve with compassion,
And to love without counting the cost.
Teach us to seek dialogue over division.
Discernment over ego.
Dignity over domination.
Make us bold enough to speak truth,
And humble enough to admit when we’re wrong.
Let the work we do in public life
Be rooted in the Gospel,
And always guided by Your Spirit.
We lift up our nation, O God—
Its wounds, its hopes, its future.
And we ask You:
Bless our leaders.
Bless our people.
Bless our calling to serve.
Lord, this Jubilee is Yours.
Let it be a turning point—not just for us,
But for every person we are called to serve.
We ask this in the name of Jesus,
Our companion, our guide, and our hope.
Amen.
– Rappler.com