They grin under cameras’ eyes, tidily attired and dignified, swearing on their honor that they did not take a penny. They deny, deflect, and play-act innocence as if innocence were a matter of words. Though their words are empty to the viewing public, they are reduced to memorized lies from a line long rehearsed by those with expertise in deception in public life.

The same play happens every time the exposé breaks, the evidence accumulates, and the government target appears before the press, seething with indignation at what they describe as their own integrity. “I didn’t steal,” they declare, as if repeating the mantra often would somehow reshape reality. They cite the decades of public service, self-sacrifices, and “clear conscience.” Behind the guise, however, lies a life that barely corresponds to the image of humble service. Mansions are built, limousine fleets are duplicated, and bank accounts flourish—none of which match their alleged salaries. Denial, then, is not just unlikely but also insulting.

It is not the accusation that makes their statements difficult to believe, but rather the conditions under which they exercise power. These are men and women with enormous authority over the government coffers, entrusted with authority enough to sway courts, bureaucracies, and even the popular perception. They are the ones who sign the checks, the ones who make the bid awards, and the ones with influence who silence auditors. In a land where the right of the strong is impunity, their denials are as helpful as smoke from an ardent field—may hide the fire for a while, but not kill it.

Their rapid amassing of wealth is the most vigorous protest against them. Most of these officials remake themselves from modest civil servants into billionaires of unknown provenance within a few years. People see their children studying in exclusive universities abroad, their families on summer vacations in luxury, and their businesses thriving overnight after their political rise. They refer to it as “hard work” or “sensible investments,” but the public can well see beyond words. It is corruption if it is gained in office without accountability, and their denials are no more than the first defense of a guilty mind.

Filipinos, to their credit, are wiser and more prudent now. Decades of duplicity have inured citizens to read between lines, suspect what one says and, more importantly still, what one does not say. Deception, of course, has been the currency of corruption. Thieves in public office do not bear guns or crack safes—they steal on lies, on the inventions of untruths, and on the manipulations of appearance. The barong Tagalog thief swipes not by violence but by the allure of appearance and the shield of alliances.

There is, though, a grotesque turn of humor in how such officials invoke God, family, and country to exonerate themselves of malfeasance. They cloak themselves in the idiom of goodness to hide their vices. One invokes divine guidance; another, commitment to public service. But the lips that spoke God’s name are the same lips that signed fictitious documents and certified phony projects. It is a hypocrisy of the nation, and its people, tired but not blind, discern.

The irony is that such implausible denials linger in a system rotten with selective justice. Investigations get bogged down, cases linger, and witnesses get bullied or discredited. The truth is on sale, buried under influence and red tape. For the common man, justice appears elusive and mythical—something true in theory, not reality. And thus, the same people continue to stay in power, voices ring out in innocence, and robberies go on, rebranded under different names and regimes.

But the truth, suppressed as it might be, has a habitual knack for reasserting itself. The country needs to build a citizenry that will not forget, demands openness, and ceases to take comfort in political melodrama. Public office is not the theatre of performance but a responsibility demanding accountability. Next time a government official says, “I did not steal,” the public must not only hear—but verify, question, and recall. In a country where lies have been a weapon for so long, the most powerful act of defiance is to stop believing it.

THAT’S what we can get from the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. (cfr. Lk 18,9-14) Especially before God, we never have any reason to brag about our own righteousness. We may be doing a lot of good, but let’s not spoil them and render them useless by crowing about them.

We need to be humble in our prayer. That is what would effectively connect us with God, please him and “nudge” him to give us more favors. A humble prayer “pierces the clouds” and reaches the ears of God.

Humility in our prayer, as shown in that parable, would win us our own justification before God. It enables us to recognize our constant need for God’s mercy. It puts us in the state of always seeking and doing God’s will, rather than seeking our own personal recognition.
Yes, with God, we have no reason at all to show off whatever good we have done, for everything good comes from him. He knows them already, and for sure is happy with that fact. What we have to do instead is to feel the great need we have of him since we cannot deny that despite all the good things we have done, we continue to have defects and weaknesses, if not all kinds of sin themselves.

Let’s remember what St. James in his Letter said in this regard: “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” (4,6) With the current tendency in our culture to fall into virtue signaling or moral posturing, we really need to do some extra effort to remain humble and simple, always feeling the need for God, for forgiveness and for more grace.
One source defines virtue signaling as “the action or practice of publicly expressing opinions or sentiments intended to demonstrate one’s good character or the moral correctness of one’s position on a particular issue.”

Another source puts it as “a pejorative neologism for the conspicuous and disingenuous expression of moral values with the intent to enhance one’s own image.” Still another source describes it as taking “a conspicuous but essentially useless action ostensibly to support a good cause but actually to show off how much more moral one is than everybody else.”

This is not to develop in us a gloomy and negative self-esteem. Rather the contrary. It is to be realistic about ourselves that would enable us to know more objectively both the good and bad aspects of our life. If we have a realistic and healthy self-esteem, we would know how to approach God properly in prayer, since we would be both thankful to him for the good things we have, and begging for mercy for the bad things.

The acknowledgement of the negative things in our life before God does not undercut the value of the good things we have done. Such acknowledgement would in fact reinforce the merits of those good things. Thus, it is always worthwhile to remain humble in our prayer in the way the publican prayed.

We need to continually work on the proper dispositions for our prayer which should be marked by humility, trust in God’s goodness and willingness to listen, a sincerity that really comes from the heart, and perseverance.

That’s because we should always to contend with our human weaknesses, the hostile environment that we always have in the world, not to mention the powerful spiritual enemies that are ranged against us.

In Haiti, mud cookies are something that is a reality. Soaring food prices and the reality of death by starvation forces people to eat the Mud Cookie. Traditionally called Bonbon Te, the cookie is something that the Haiti people are familiar with, something that they need to live with.

Why does this happen? Haiti has faced years of political instability, natural disasters, and corruption. Money meant for schools, hospitals, and food programs often disappears into the pockets of powerful people. As a result, ordinary Haitians are left with nothing. The mud cookie is more than just a meal—it’s a symbol of a broken system.

Now let’s look at the Philippines. It’s a country with rich natural resources, talented people, and growing cities. But behind the progress, there’s a quiet crisis: corruption. Some government officials take kickbacks—secret payments from contractors or businesses—in exchange for favors or contracts. This means public money is stolen instead of being used to build roads, improve schools, or help the poor.

It’s the end picture of the Philippines, due to the inept and crooked system that we have, we the Filipinos may end up eating Mud Cookies in the future. Hinaot diri umabot an panahon nga tungod han kakurian, pati sugad hini nga pagkaon, Mud Cookies ( Karan-on tikang ha lapok ) asay na aton pamahaw.

It may not be in this generation but can we assure the next to be insulated by the realities and damages caused by corruption?

Its all up to us now, it may be a far-fetched reality now but given the exponential magnitude of the kickbacks and corruption we see daily, it had become close and seemingly sadly possible.