Can I be good without being religious?

The calling of St. Matthew

I recently had a conversation with some teenagers, and two of them caught my attention. Both had approached me for help with their moral goals.

I asked the first one some probing questions. I learned that he is Protestant and that his father is the pastor of their church, but he does not regularly attend. For him, religion is something he would rather explore later in life. He finds loud expressions of praise performative, and he struggles with the idea that doing good is connected to going to heaven. He feels that if the motivation for doing good is the reward of the afterlife, then he is being forced to be good.

He also struggles with the idea that someone could live badly for most of his life and still go to heaven by saying sorry and genuinely repenting, even near the end of his life.

The second teenager goes to church but stays at the back. His struggle is somewhat different. He cannot reconcile the fact that both good and bad people can be found inside the Church. He has seen people who seem religious but use Jesus as an excuse for bad behavior. He does not particularly want to be religious, but he does want to be good.

These are not uncommon struggles among young people who are trying to make sense of faith: Religion isn’t for the young. Can’t I just be good? Can I go to heaven simply by saying sorry? Why are there bad people in church? Why do I need to attend Mass if I can have a personal relationship with Christ?

Both, in different ways, seem to be asking the same question:

Can I be good without being religious?

And beneath that question is another one: What makes goodness authentic?

I did not directly rebut their arguments. I wanted to avoid turning the conversation into a debate. Instead, I tried to listen and offer a few thoughts for them to consider.

For the first teenager, I shared something I heard at Mass the day before, words quoted from Fulton Sheen. Since he said he wanted to be good, I asked him what makes someone a good member of a club. He answered that a good member attends meetings and participates.

I told him that the same principle can apply to belonging to a church. If we claim to be a member of a community, participation is at least part of what membership means.

I also wanted to address his struggle with what might be called transactional Christianity, the idea that we simply do good in exchange for the reward of heaven. I asked him to examine his motives: Am I doing this because it is genuinely good, or am I doing it because I expect something in return?

There is a difference between doing something good because we love the good and doing it merely because it benefits us.

I suggested that he read C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity as part of his moral goal. Reading the book will not automatically make him religious or pious. But it will expose him to arguments about objective moral truth and the claims of Christianity, and perhaps give him a framework for examining the questions he is already asking.

For the second teenager, I used an analogy from school.

A school is made up of many students. Some have excellent grades and character; others do not. If someone wants to understand what the school stands for, however, we would probably look at the students who actually embody its ideals rather than those who merely carry its name.

The same can be said of the Church. It is made up of people at different stages of faith and moral development. Some follow its teachings authentically; others fail to live up to them. The existence of people who behave badly does not necessarily tell us what the Church teaches. In fact, the teachings of the Church provide the standard by which the behavior of its members can be judged—including the behavior of those who claim to follow Christ.

And ultimately, we are not in the Church simply because of the people in it. We are there because of Christ.

He also mentioned that religious people sometimes use Jesus as an excuse for their bad behavior. I wish I had more time to probe what he meant by that. Perhaps he was referring to people who use forgiveness or grace to excuse their actions. Perhaps he has experienced people who invoke Christianity while behaving badly. I don’t want to speculate. I simply found the observation worth exploring further.

I also told him something about attending Mass: we should not expect Mass to give us a particular feeling every time. We do not come to Mass merely as consumers asking, “What am I going to get out of this?”

We come bringing something of our own: our whole selves—our gratitude, failures, worries, relationships, hopes, work, struggles, and intentions and offer them to God.

For both of them, I emphasized one thing: if you want to be good, you have to know what it is to be truly good.

Goodness cannot simply mean “doing what feels right to me.” If we are serious about becoming good, we have to search for the truth about goodness. And that means seeking out people, authors, thinkers, and personalities who have wrestled with these questions and, more importantly, tried to live what they believed was good.

That is why I recommended C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity and mentioned G.K. Chesterton, writers who take seriously the questions of truth, morality, human nature, and what it means to live well.

Our conversation ended, but perhaps another had just begun.

If you want to be good, you first have to discover what goodness truly is. But once you recognize it, another question follows:

Am I willing to follow it?

The seed

Gabay Bayan Outreach 2007

I got goosebumps when I saw online the long lines of people along the highway, from Isabela all the way to Quirino, waiting for one last glimpse of Dax’s coffin. I was moved by the countless testimonies on social media of his kindness, and by the stories of provincial projects that have touched lives and will continue to benefit generations to come.

Together, they are a testament to the kind of person and public servant Dax was.

I have read many posts asking life’s most painful question: Why, of all people, someone like him?

It is a question born of hurt, disbelief, and panghihinayang, for all the things that will now remain unfinished, and for all the things we imagined he would still do.

His loss is profound, not only for his family, but for Quirino and for the country he served.

And yet, perhaps Dax’s story was never meant to end with his death.

His life has simply taken another form.

His passing made people curious. They searched for who he was, and what they found was not merely a politician’s biography, but the traces of a life spent serving: projects that endure, work done with discipline, and countless stories of kindness and love for people.

And perhaps this is where grief begins to make room for hope.

Because what Dax left behind are not merely memories. They are seeds.

Seeds he planted quietly over 25 years of service, through people he helped, communities he strengthened, projects he built, and lives he touched.

We mourn the one who was lost.
But from the seeds he planted, many more can grow.

That, perhaps, is the mystery of a life lived well: when the person is gone, the good does not disappear with him. It is carried by others. It takes root in places he may never see. It continues in people who were inspired by his example and in communities that will benefit from work he began.

For 25 years, Dax served with integrity. And through that integrity, he brought dignity to Quirino and its people.

Now those seeds belong to all of us.

May they grow in the people he inspired. May they take root in those who still believe that public service can be an act of love. And may his life remind us that doing what is right, even when no one is watching, is never wasted.

Dax’s story continues not because we refuse to let go, but because the good he planted remains.

Perhaps this is one small answer to the painful question of “Why him?”

We may never understand why his life had to end when it did. But we can choose what his life will mean after it ends.

We can carry the seeds forward.

Quirino is no longer just a name on a map. Through Dax’s life and service, it has found a place in the hearts and minds of Filipinos who may never have known the province before.

May you honor him by continuing the good he began.

May you carry forward the vision he had for the province he loved.

And may Dax’s life remind us that one person, serving with truth and putting others first, can plant something that outlives him, something that, in time, may grow far beyond what he could ever have imagined.

A Tribute to Dax, my beloved cousin.

I held him for the last time and said, “Dax, I love you. I will miss you.” Those were the only words I could utter after his last breath. Even my tears could not give justice to the sadness I felt at that moment.

He was six months older than me, and that small gap gave us a natural closeness. We practically grew up together.

How close?

When we were kids, we joined art and computer classes together. We played the whole day during family reunions. We played Family Computer in Greenhills for entire afternoons. We played whenever we were at our family’s office there.

But our relationship went beyond simply doing things together. We became confidants. We shared things with each other that we didn’t necessarily share with others. And that is one of the things I will miss most about him.

Love was one of the topics we would often talk about. But, of course, I want to honor him by not spilling the beans.

Some of those conversations happened under the falling stars of Puerto Azul. Others happened over a bottle of beer, quiet moments when we shared stories, dreams, and things that were meant to stay between us.

The last time we had a long conversation was on a cruise in 2023. We talked well into the night until the crew eventually had to send us back to our room at 2 a.m.

That was Dax.

He could be poetic, playful, and even philosophical, but there was always something deeper underneath. He had a mind that was constantly imagining possibilities.

One time, on the way to Quirino, we talked for many hours about his many what ifs, how to make the lives of constituents better, what farming machines could be invented, and all sorts of possibilities.

But before he became that person, there was the Dax I knew as a kid—the pilyo one.

Kapag natutulog ako sa bahay nila, kapag dumarating si Tito Junie, sasabihin sa akin ni Dax:

“Wag kang maingay. Papagalitan ka ni dad. Papaluin ka niya.”

Ako naman, takot na takot.

Kaya nung gabi na dinala kami ni Tito Junie sa Pizza Hut sa Greenhills, hindi ako nagsalita buong gabi sa restaurant. Hindi rin ako kumain ng pizza sa takot.

Tapos si Dax, mahilig mangiliti.
Wala siyang ginawa kundi kilitiin ako nang kilitiin.

At kapag picture-taking, pupunta siya sa harapan ko at haharangan ako.

One time, nag-bump car kami sa SM North EDSA. May batang lokoloko na panay ang bangga sa amin, pinag-initan kami ni Dax.

Afterward, nag-usap kami.

“Tara, bili tayo ng tokens. Balikan natin.” we bumped him till the end of the run.

Nung teenager na kami, hindi alam ng mga magulang namin, nagkakarera kami. Walang masama kung sa racetrack, pero ang problema, ginagawa namin sa loob ng subdivision nila, mula basketball court hanggang bahay nila.

The funny thing is, that pilyo side of Dax never really disappeared.

Dinala niya hanggang pagtanda.

Pag may party, Sasabihin niya kay Ingrid, my wife:

“Ingrid, hiniram mo ba kay Mickey Mouse ’yang suot mo?”

But Dax wasn’t just my playmate or my co-conspirator. He was also thoughtful.

I will never forget that, at the height of a law that he needed to pass, he took the time to visit me in the hospital and said he offered a decade of the Rosary for me.

His thoughtfulness was something he also showed his family.

We were in Baguio once, and we went to SM. He went into a store and started buying things for his family. I remember him asking my wife:

“Okay ba ito kay Joy? Kay Diwat? Kay Portia?”

And perhaps that is why what happened in the last few weeks was difficult for me to understand.

Common friends had been asking me about his condition. I had a hunch, but I did not ask him directly.

Not because I didn’t care.

But because I knew Dax.

If it was something he thought he could overcome, he probably wouldn’t bother telling me.

This Holy Week, he messaged me about our Cua genealogy and that Rizal was a Cua. I told him that the repository of records was just a few minutes away from us. He said he wanted us to go and do some research after the holiday.

I had a feeling he wanted to tell me about his condition that bothered him.

Dax was like that. He wouldn’t always tell you things straight.

April 7 came, and I never received a confirmation.

I knew there was a problem, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him directly either.

So I just texted him:

“Dax, sige, next time na lang. I’m sure busy, maraming gawa.”

“Yes, next time,” he said.

Kaya nung nalaman ko ang tungkol sa kanya, I told my wife that I wanted to visit him, even though I wasn’t supposed to know.

Sabi niya:

“Maiintindihan ni Dax ’yun. Kaya puntahan mo na.”

So we went, but I had to muster enough courage to open the hospital door for fear of what he and I would feel when we see each other.

I was sad when I saw him but I didn’t want him to feel my sadness so I kept a straight face. He raised his hand slowly and that was enough for me to have hope that he will get well.

Moments after I handed Dax the first-class relic of Padre Pio.

He held it tightly and sought his intercession.

Then I pulled a prayer card, and started reading the first line. My voice cracked, my tears about to fall. I stopped and took a deep breath before reading again.

That moment will stay with me.

And now, when I look back at everything we shared, the games, the jokes, the adventures, the conversations, the secrets, even the mischief, I realize that these were not just memories of growing up.

They were the ordinary ways God gave me a brother.

I will miss the cousin who was almost my twin in age.

My playmate.

My co-conspirator.

My confidant.

And, in many ways, my brother.

Dax, I love you, and I will miss you because I will no longer see you.

Commentary on 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

“Live and let live” and “mind your own business” are two maxims that have become common in the world we live in today. Many people no longer want to be corrected, even when what they are doing is objectively wrong. Some even hide what they are doing precisely because they know it is wrong and do not want to be confronted.

And so, when we see someone making a mistake or doing something wrong, we may hesitate to say anything. We tell ourselves that it is better to keep the peace, avoid conflict, or simply mind our own business. But today’s readings and Gospel tell us otherwise.

In the first reading, God makes Ezekiel a watchman. His responsibility is to warn the wicked when they are going astray. If he warns them and they refuse to listen, Ezekiel has fulfilled his responsibility. He cannot force the person to change, but he must not remain silent. The message is clear: we are responsible for speaking the truth; we are not responsible for controlling another person’s response to it.

In the Gospel, Jesus gives His disciples a concrete way of dealing with someone who has done wrong. First, He says, go to the person privately and point out the fault. If the person does not listen, bring one or two others. If necessary, bring the matter to the community. Notice that Jesus does not tell us to gossip, publicly shame the person, or immediately condemn him. He tells us to correct him personally, patiently, and in a way that seeks his restoration.

Today, however, we often avoid correcting our brothers and sisters not only because we want to avoid conflict, but also because we have made empathy a reason to mind our own business. Empathy is good because it allows us to understand another person’s feelings. But empathy alone is not enough. If our only goal is to prevent someone from feeling bad, we may actually prevent that person from becoming better.

Love must be concerned not only with how a person feels now, but with who that person is becoming.

This brings us to the idea of human flourishing. Human flourishing is not simply getting what we want or avoiding what makes us uncomfortable. It is the development of the qualities that allow us to fulfill our nature as rational and free persons.

Consider a student who receives a poor grade. He can protect himself from discomfort by blaming the teacher, making excuses, or convincing himself that the grade does not matter. Or he can accept the uncomfortable truth that he did not prepare well, take responsibility, and decide to work harder.

The second response may be more uncomfortable, but it develops honesty, responsibility, perseverance, and self-discipline. He becomes more fully human because he learns to use his reason to recognize what is true and his freedom to choose what is good—even when doing so is difficult.

This is why fraternal correction can be an act of love. We correct not because we want to make someone feel bad, but because we want what is genuinely good for that person.

The second reading gives us the reason: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” And St. Paul tells us that love is the fulfillment of the law.

If we truly love our neighbor, then we cannot be indifferent to what harms him. To love is to care. To love is to connect. And sometimes, to love is to correct.

We must, however, remember that correction is not condemnation. Correction says, “What you are doing is wrong, and I care enough about you to tell you.” Condemnation says, “You are a bad person.” Christian correction seeks the person’s good, respects his freedom, and leaves room for conversion.

So perhaps the Christian response to “live and let live” is not simply to interfere in everyone’s lives. Rather, it is: Live and help others live well.

And instead of simply saying, “Mind your own business,” perhaps we should ask:

“What does love require me to do for the good of my neighbor?”

Because sometimes the most loving thing we can do is to remain silent.

But sometimes the most loving thing we can do is to have the courage to speak.

Too much empathy and too little love

There is too much empathy and too little love. I think this is one of the reasons why the world is increasingly marked by anxiety, fragility, anger, and confusion.

Empathy is valuable, but empathy by itself is not love. Empathy asks us to enter into another person’s feelings, to understand their pain and to avoid causing them distress. But if our desire to prevent someone from feeling bad comes at the expense of truth, justice, virtue, or their genuine good, then empathy can actually become uncharitable.

Consider three examples.

A child joins a competition and receives an award simply for participating, so that he will feel appreciated even though he lost.

A person is given recognition because of a personal characteristic rather than because of the work, virtue, or achievement that normally deserves recognition.

Someone described abortion as an act of mercy because it prevents a child from experiencing a difficult life.

All three can be motivated by a desire to prevent pain. They are, in that sense, deeply empathetic. But empathy asks primarily, “How do I make this person feel better?”

Love asks a deeper question:

“What is truly good for this person?”

Love is not merely a feeling. Love is a choice and an action. To love is to will the good of another.

And what is good?

A classical Christian understanding, especially developed in the thought of Augustine, is that goodness is connected with perfection: good is what perfects a thing according to what it is and what it is ordered toward.

A thing is good when it becomes more fully what it is meant to be.

A good knife cuts well because cutting belongs to what a knife is.

A good eye sees well because seeing belongs to what an eye is.

And a good human being develops and exercises what is proper to human nature.

The human person is rational and free. We possess the capacity to know truth, to deliberate, to choose, to love, to form relationships, and to develop virtue.

Therefore, qualities such as wisdom, self-discipline, courage, honesty, justice, and responsibility do not merely make us socially acceptable. They perfect us as human beings.

This is where love sometimes becomes difficult.

Sometimes love means comforting someone.

But sometimes love means telling the truth.

Sometimes love means affirming someone.

But sometimes love means correcting them.

Sometimes love means protecting someone from suffering.

But sometimes love means allowing them to experience the consequences of their choices, because suffering can be part of learning, maturity, responsibility, and growth.

Sometimes love means saying, “I understand why you feel this way, but I don’t think what you are doing is good for you.”

That is not a lack of compassion.

It may actually be compassion guided by truth.

We have become so afraid of making people uncomfortable that we sometimes deprive them of the very things that help them become stronger: correction, accountability, discipline, responsibility, resilience, and the encounter with truth.

A child who never learns how to lose does not become stronger because we protected his feelings. He may instead become less capable of dealing with failure.

A person who is never corrected does not necessarily become more confident. They may simply become less capable of recognizing their own weaknesses.

And a society that confuses affirmation with love eventually loses the ability to distinguish between what feels good and what is actually good.

Empathy says:

“I don’t want you to hurt.”

Love says:

“I don’t want you to be harmed, and therefore I want what is truly good for you—even when what is good may be difficult, painful, or uncomfortable.”

The goal of love is not merely to eliminate suffering.

The goal of love is human flourishing.

Because sometimes the most loving thing we can do is not to remove someone’s pain, but to help them become the kind of person who can face reality, endure difficulty, choose what is right, and ultimately become more fully human.

Empathy without truth can become sentimentality.
Truth without charity can become cruelty.
But truth guided by charity is love.