“Only when we learn to work together—despite our different views—can we truly build a nation that works for everyone”
IN JUST one week, two important elections took place—both deeply significant, but in very different ways.
One happened behind the closed doors of the Sistine Chapel, the other in crowded polling precincts across the Philippines. One was the election of a new pope—Pope Leo XIV. The other was our midterm elections here at home.
At first glance, they couldn’t be more different. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt that maybe, just maybe, God was allowing these two moments to happen so close together to remind us of something important. That we can learn from one, so we can do better in the other.
The papal conclave wasn’t just about choosing a new leader of the Catholic Church. It was a process filled with prayer, listening, discernment, and a deep sense of responsibility.
And while our elections here were filled with energy, noise, posters, jingles, and promises—we often forget that they, too, are sacred. Because at the heart of both is one thing: choosing a leader who will serve.
First lesson: Listening with an open heart.
Before the cardinals voted, they gathered each day in what’s called the General Congregation. There, they didn’t argue or attack each other. They simply spoke—and more importantly, listened.
Each one shared their thoughts about the challenges and hopes of the Church. They reflected together. They prayed. It wasn’t a popularity contest. It was discernment.
In contrast, look at our own election season.
Weeks filled with noise. Candidates shouting over each other. People throwing insults online. Everyone wanting to speak, but so few really listening.
There’s so much talk—but so little understanding. What if we tried to campaign not just to be heard, but to listen—to truly hear what the people need, and what our country is crying out for?
Second lesson: Finding common ground.
The cardinals didn’t all come into the conclave with the same vision. They had different experiences, different cultures, different ideas of how the Church should move forward.
But in the end, they knew their mission was the same—to serve the people of God and to continue the mission of Christ. And so, instead of letting their differences divide them, they allowed their shared purpose to unite them.
It wasn’t about one faction winning over another. It was about discerning together.
Here in the Philippines, it often feels like we enjoy the divisions.
We wear them like badges—loyal to our parties, our personalities, our provinces.
But politics should be about inclusion, not exclusion.
Our differences should be our strength, not our weakness. Because only when we learn to work together—despite our different views—can we truly build a nation that works for everyone.
Third lesson: Leading with conviction.
At the end of the day, each cardinal had to vote based on their conscience. They knew their vote mattered.
They didn’t just go with the most popular choice or the safest bet. They went with the one they believed—deep in their heart—was God’s choice. Even if it meant going against the majority. Even if it meant taking a risk.
In our elections, we often forget this.
So many of us choose the “winnable” candidate, not the “right” one. So many leaders shape their message to fit what’s trending, rather than stand by what they believe in. And before they know it, they’ve lost themselves.
But real leadership begins with being true to who you are—and staying true, even when it’s hard.
So what can we take from all this?
Maybe it’s not just a coincidence that these two elections happened almost at the same time. Maybe God is showing us a better way forward—not just in Church leadership, but in our politics too.
A way marked by deep listening, real unity, and genuine conviction. A way that is less about power, and more about purpose.
If we want better leaders, we must also become better people—more discerning, more open, more courageous.
I hope we don’t waste this moment.
I hope we take time to reflect and ask ourselves: what kind of elections do we want in the future? What kind of leaders are we choosing? And what kind of nation are we trying to build?
May we learn these lessons well—and may we never forget them. Because if we truly listen, find common ground, and lead with conviction, then maybe, just maybe, we’ll start to see the change we’ve all been praying for.
