Last Sunday, I went to church to hear the mass. The priest was telling his homily in a very beautiful way. That kind of way that you would want to reject every word that comes from his mouth but you can’t just ignore those wonderful words because it was beautifully arranged. In a simpler thought, whatever comes from his mouth is like a bullet hitting you in the chest, then tugs you in the heart until it screams into your veins like an alarm to wake you up.

I was profoundly touched by the words he released, but irony happened. The church is a well-known place for people who would give their thanks, ask for apologies, request for guidance and beg for wishes from the Lord. I was constantly looking at the place, but mostly at the people who are in front of me. I asked myself, “Is this place for the good?”. Consider me as intuitive, I question a lot. I looked at the people who were listening attentively at the priest, then forthwith, the answer was saying it’s opening remarks.

Two young street children wearing shirts that are bleached with filth walked around the Sacred place with nothing on their feet but the cold floor touching their soles. I tried hard not to focus my attention to them, but there is something about them that made me look. They were casually moving from person to person asking for money, the woman at the end of the long wooden chair aligned in front of me was asked, she was unconcerned about them, only looking down, not even giving the kids a smile. The two kids tried their chance with her and looked for another person instead. I, on the other hand was holding a hundred peso bill on my hand, I told myself, if they come back before we start to donate, I’m going to give this to them, this piece of paper that will put food in their stomachs or even give them something to put on their feet.

But I wasn’t able to donate that money. I didn’t have the courage to call them back. That’s the moment I had the answer to my question, “Is this place for the good?”.  I realized that I went to hear mass with a bunch of hypocrites, including me. Going to church doesn’t make you good, it just makes you appear your’e good. Goodness doesn’t have to come from one place, it has to be everywhere. It has to be shared, even there is nothing to be received. The world needs more people who would really put out their best just to make it a better place, not people who pretend they’re good because they go to church every week.

I know that I am one of the hypocrites, I won’t let that happen again. If someone needs a helping hand and I know that I have the capacity to lend my arm, I will. No matter what you look like, what you believe in, where you came from or when were you born. If you think your’e like me, an afraid person to help, then stop. Let’s do what’s good and share it with the world. Hypocrites