Assalamu alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh.

My warmest greetings of peace, love, and unity to you and your families on this sacred occasion of Eid al-Adha, or the Feast of Sacrifice.

Today, I join my Muslim brothers and sisters to celebrate not just a religious tradition, but a universal story of faith, sacrifice, and the enduring power of trust in the Divine.

The story of Prophet Ibrahim (peace be upon him) and his son Isma’il is a timeless lesson in devotion, obedience, and unwavering trust in the Almighty. Faced with an unimaginable command, Ibrahim chose to sacrifice his son, not out of fear but from a deep and abiding faith. In return, Allah (Glorified be He) showed His infinite mercy.

Indeed, some of life’s biggest lessons come quietly—in the sacrifices we make for family, in the responsibilities we carry for others, and in the moments when faith asks us to trust even if we cannot yet see where the road leads. Eid al-Adha is one of those moments.

Beyond the joy the Eid brings, the occasion invites us to pause and reflect deeply.

For me, the occasion became personal the moment I understood that Eid was teaching me lessons far greater than celebration. This story of sacrifice is one of trust. Surrendering something closest to your heart, moving forward, and choosing faith over that loss is not easy.

Perhaps the reason why this story continues to speak to people across generations is precisely that life eventually asks all of us to do the same. There are seasons when we move forward without certainty. We take chances we cannot fully explain.

There were moments in public service when I understood this feeling very well.

Government work is often seen as technical—budget, figures, meetings, reports, and policies. But behind these numbers and in every report are the ordinary citizens. Behind every approved program is a family hoping for something better.

That was something I carried with me every day.

Throughout my years in government, I met people whose sacrifices never found themselves in news reports or speeches. Yet their stories are the ones I value the most.

I remember the story of the teacher who spent her own allowance because she could not bear seeing students without supplies. I met healthcare workers who showed up each day carrying exhaustion and worry but still chose compassion. I witnessed our own employees at the Department of Budget and Management staying with me until the early hours of the morning to finish reviewing the budget because they understood that even a day's delay in approval meant delayed services for ordinary Filipinos.

They did not call what they were doing a sacrifice. They called it taking responsibility.

But perhaps that is what many sacrifices look like. They are not always dramatic. Most of the time, they happen quietly.

We see them in parents who place their children’s dreams ahead of their own comforts. We see them in overseas Filipino workers who spend years away from their families. We see them in workers who rise before sunrise and come home long after dark because people are depending on them.

Filipinos understand sacrifice not because we speak about it often, but because we live it.

And perhaps this is why Eid al-Adha speaks beyond religion.

Because sacrifice is rooted in love.

Love for family. Love for community. Love for something greater than ourselves.

One of the most beautiful parts of Eid is the tradition of sharing. Food is distributed not only among relatives and friends but especially to those who have less. The celebration becomes fuller because joy is extended outward.

There is something deeply meaningful about that.

We live in a world that often teaches us to accumulate—to pursue more, protect more, and keep more.

Yet Eid gently teaches a different lesson: what we hold onto becomes more meaningful when we learn to share it.

Not only food. Not only blessings.

But also kindness. Time. Compassion. Understanding.

Beyond the budget, may Eid al-Adha remind us that true sacrifice isn’t about losing but about loving beyond ourselves, surrendering in faith, and choosing purpose over comfort. It is this spirit that binds us all—regardless of belief or background—because in every home and community, we see the quiet courage of people who give of themselves for the good of others.

As Citizen Mina, I hope this holy celebration will allow us to renew our values of empathy, humility, and harmony. Let us take inspiration from Prophet Ibrahim to remain steadfast amid uncertainty, generous even in scarcity, and hopeful in the face of hardship.

May Allah accept your offering, ease your burdens, and shower you with His boundless mercy and grace.

Eid Mubarak!

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