Prayers, Politics, and the Curious Case of Jerry, Jam, and Jed

By The Sunriser

It seems we’ve entered a new spiritual phase in Iloilo City politics.

Mayor Jerry Treñas, while recuperating in the hospital, has found time for some deep contemplation. Alongside reading (probably those legislative documents no one else has patience for), he has taken to praying.

But this isn’t just your run-of-the-mill “God bless Iloilo” kind of prayer. No, in his infinite wisdom, Mayor Treñas has deemed it necessary to single out two people in particular for divine intervention: former Mayor Jed Patrick Mabilog and lone district Rep. Julienne “JamJam” Baronda.

Because, naturally, when one is recovering, the first thing that comes to mind is to pray for political allies who are apparently in desperate need of heavenly guidance.

“I hope that they will be touched by God the Almighty,” he shared in a radio interview, cryptically offering no further explanation.

But why stop there, right? Is it that the mayor sees them as wayward sheep in need of divine herding? Or could this be his polite way of saying, “Lord, help me deal with these two”?

Let’s break this down. Baronda and Treñas, once political BFFs, had a bit of a public spat earlier this year when the mayor endorsed his daughter for the congressional seat. You know, the seat Baronda had been warming for two terms.

They later “reconciled”—and I use that term loosely. The two camps were reportedly strong-armed into a shotgun political marriage, no doubt arranged by those benevolent “gods” of business and politics who always seem to have the best interests of the people at heart (cue sarcastic laughter).

As for Mabilog, well, he’s been stirring the pot from afar, criticizing the very policies of the administration he once supported. He’s taken issue with things like property tax hikes and that ever-popular paid street parking scheme—criticisms that have sparked a few too many awkward conversations at City Hall, I imagine.

So why is Treñas praying for these two, exactly? There’s no mention of why they specifically need the Almighty’s touch. Could it be that despite their public “unity,” the alliance is hanging by a thread? The fact that the mayor didn’t specify what kind of divine intervention he’s asking for suggests that all is not well in paradise.

Perhaps he’s asking for patience. Maybe forgiveness. Or, most intriguingly, maybe he’s praying for a miracle to keep this fragile union from shattering under the weight of political ambition and backdoor deals.

After all, when alliances are forged not by mutual respect but by political expediency, it’s only a matter of time before cracks start to show.

And when you have two heavyweights like Baronda and Mabilog—both with their own power bases and agendas—things can get complicated fast.

Unity is a wonderful talking point, but anyone familiar with the history of Iloilo politics knows that public smiles often hide private grudges.

What we’re witnessing here isn’t the sacred unity of “Team Uswag,” but a politically arranged détente between camps that, let’s face it, might not even like each other anymore. And let’s not forget that Mabilog, though technically “retired” from politics, still has significant influence—particularly with Baronda’s camp. Is Treñas worried that Mabilog’s critiques could weaken the fragile alliance just as election season heats up?

One can’t help but wonder if these prayers are more of a preemptive measure—a way to call for divine backup just in case things get messy. Because in Iloilo, where politics is as unpredictable as a habagat storm, a little divine intervention might be exactly what’s needed to keep the peace.

Or, at the very least, to keep the public from noticing just how shaky the alliance between Treñas, Baronda, and Mabilog really is.

In the meantime, we can only speculate on what exactly the mayor is praying for. But let’s be honest: in the cutthroat world of Iloilo politics, it’s probably not for world peace.