Assalamu alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh.

As the crescent moon rises, I join my Muslim brothers and sisters worldwide, including the more than seven million Muslim Filipinos, in observing the holy month of Ramadhan.

For us Muslims, Ramadhan is one of the holiest months. It commemorates the time when the Qur’an was first revealed to the Prophet Muhammad. It begins in the ninth month of the Islamic calendar with the sighting of the Waxing Crescent Moon, signifying the beginning of the new lunar month. Lasting 29 or 30 days, the month concludes at sunset with the sighting of the next Crescent Moon, the first day of Shawwal, or the tenth month of the Islamic calendar, when Eid al-Fitr is observed.

For those who may not know, Ramadhan comes from the Arabic word “ar-ramad,” meaning “scorching heat.” This is because, just as the sun's intense heat evaporates water from the ground's surface, Ramadhan burns away one’s sins. This spiritual heat purifies and molds us to be better human beings. It is, therefore, a month of heightened devotion to Allah for Muslims worldwide, marked by prayer, reflection, and fasting.

As a Muslim with deep Maranao roots, faith for our family was woven into our daily life—into how we treat guests, how we speak to elders, how we approach responsibility. Ramadhan, in particular, carries a special energy. As children, we did not fully understand the spiritual depth of fasting, but we understood its importance because we saw how seriously the adults around us observed it.

Fasting is often seen as abstaining from food and drink. But anyone who has truly observed Ramadhan knows it goes much deeper. It is about restraint—controlling anger, guarding one’s words, and being mindful of intention. You learn quickly that hunger is the easiest part. Patience is harder.

Years later, when I found myself working at the Department of Budget and Management, Ramadhan became something else entirely. The responsibilities of being in government do not slow down because you are fasting. Budget season still arrives with urgency. Meetings still stretch for hours. Decisions still carry consequences for millions of people. There were days when fatigue would creep in by mid-afternoon, when the thought of water felt almost overwhelming. But strangely, those were also the days when I felt most grounded.

Fasting stripped away distractions. It reminds me why public service mattered in the first place.

When you are hungry, you think differently about programs meant to reduce poverty. When you are thirsty, you become more aware of communities that lack clean water. Ramadhan has a way of sharpening empathy—not as an abstract concept, but as a lived experience.

One of the unexpected blessings during my years in government was sharing iftar with colleagues from different faiths. Food has always been our common language. I remember inviting my staff and colleagues to break the fast together. By the end of the evening, barriers dissolved. Conversations became more personal. We have become peers sharing a human experience. Indeed, this has taught me that most of the time, understanding one another comes from simply sitting with people at the same table rather than conducting a formal dialogue.

My Maranao upbringing also taught me the importance of collective responsibility. In Lanao del Sur, community support is a practice. Families help one another without expecting recognition. That spirit stayed with me throughout my career. Public financial management may sound technical, even impersonal, but at its heart, it is about people—farmers needing irrigation, students needing classrooms, and patients needing hospitals.

There is a moment each evening, just before breaking the fast, when prayers feel especially sincere. Hunger humbles you. Fatigue softens you. In those seconds, you become acutely aware of your dependence on God and your mission in life. During my time in government, many of my prayers at those moments were more for the community. I prayed for wisdom to make the right decisions. I prayed for peace and solidarity. I prayed for progress even in the most remote communities across the Philippines.

Beyond budget, Ramadhan is a yearly reminder that no matter how demanding or challenging life is, faith must remain at the core. This is a sacred time for us to renew our spirituality through rigorous fasting, devout prayer, and reflecting on Allah's teachings in the Qur’an. Ramadhan is a powerful reminder to each of us to answer Islam's call to a life of peace, justice, and charity.

And as Citizen Mina, I encourage everyone to use this holy and memorable observance to deepen our faith so that we can show compassion to our countrymen – Muslims and non-Muslims alike. As we reconnect with our families and communities, let us remember to embrace our common humanity in fostering a more prosperous future for all.

May Allah shower His blessings upon us and hear our prayers.

Ramadhan Kareem.

(Amenah F. Pangandaman is the former Secretary of the Department of Budget and Management.)