Oct 31., 2026 / CATECHESIS

Heaven’s Values in a World of Contradictions: A Call to Holiness

Solemnity of All Saints
Rev 7:2-4, 9-14 1 Jn 3:1-3 Mt 5:1-12
November 1, 2026

By Fr. Cyrain Cabueñas

EVERY Filipino child today can probably name the members of BINI, the nation’s celebrated girl group, identify BTS, and distinguish Blackpink. Ask that same child to name five Catholic saints, however, and heaven may suddenly fall silent. Apparently, we have become better at recognizing celebrities than recognizing holiness. Our children know who deserves a concert stage and screaming fans, but the saints who deserve imitation remain pictures gathering dust beside classroom altars.

Every November 1, our cemeteries become chapels, family reunions, picnic grounds, and open-air restaurants. We bring flowers, light candles, pray for our departed, and unpack enough food to suggest that even the afterlife requires catering. Meanwhile, children in cities, and increasingly in provinces influenced by urban trends, dress as monsters and go trick-or-treating.

Halloween comes from All Hallows’ Eve, the evening before All Saints’ Day. The old English word hallowmeans holy. What a delightful irony that a celebration whose very name points toward holiness has become, for many, a parade of the horrifying. We have learned to celebrate the eve while forgetting the feast.

There is nothing inherently wrong with costumes, candies, or our beautiful Filipino tradition of visiting cemeteries. Remembering our dead is an expression of love and faith. But why are fictional monsters more memorable than martyrs? Why can children identify imaginary superheroes more easily than men and women whose courage changed the world?

Today’s Gospel offers an inconvenient answer. In Matthew 5:1–12a, Jesus blesses the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the peacemakers, and those who hunger for righteousness. He even blesses those persecuted for doing what is right. These are hardly qualifications for winning popularity contests, securing lucrative endorsements, or climbing the social ladder. In our world, meekness looks like weakness, mercy like foolishness, and righteousness like an expensive hobby.

Yet these are the values of heaven.

The Catholic writer G. K. Chesterton observed, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried.” We prefer a Christianity that consoles without correcting, blesses our ambitions without disturbing our appetites, and promises heaven without demanding conversion. The Beatitudes refuse to cooperate.

Consider our political culture. In a country where public office can resemble family property, criticism can be treated as betrayal, and accountability as an inconvenience, Jesus’ blessing upon those who hunger for righteousness sounds revolutionary. A public official who admits wrongdoing, tells the truth, makes restitution, and accepts consequences might astonish the nation more than another political dynasty winning an election.

But the Gospel is not a stone for throwing exclusively at politicians. Before demanding clean government, we must examine our own little republics of dishonesty: the bribe we tolerate, the vote we sell, the lie we excuse because its beneficiary belongs to our political camp. We cannot condemn corruption in government while cultivating it in our homes, workplaces, and communities.

Neither should the Church imagine itself exempt. Priests and bishops must practice humility, defend the vulnerable, and hold power accountable, including within ecclesiastical institutions. A clerical collar is not a certificate of sanctity, and a bishop’s ring cannot conceal hypocrisy. The Church loses credibility whenever its ministers demand accountability from others while resisting it themselves. Holiness requires more than proclaiming the Beatitudes from an elevated pulpit. It requires descending from it to serve.

This is why All Saints’ Day matters. We celebrate not only canonized saints whose names appear in calendars, but also countless holy men and women whose names remain unknown. They receive no stage, microphone, headlines, or limelight. Yet heaven knows them.

Perhaps they are the grandmother who forgives an ungrateful child, the farmer who refuses to cheat his neighbor, the teacher who defends a poor student, or the priest who serves quietly without demanding recognition. Their holiness may never trend online. Fortunately, heaven does not measure sanctity by audience engagement.

St. Lorenzo Ruiz remained faithful amid persecution. St. Pedro Calungsod served courageously despite danger. Their witness reminds us that holiness is not ornamental piety but fidelity when compromise becomes tempting. We need not all become saints with a capital S through canonization. We can begin by becoming saints with a lowercase s through ordinary acts of extraordinary love.

So today, let us try the Beatitudes. Let us forgive without announcing it, tell the truth when lying is convenient, defend the poor without demanding photographs, and make peace without insisting that the other person surrender first. These practices may not earn applause, followers, or political favors. But the kingdom of heaven has never operated according to celebrity culture.

When the cemetery candles burn out, the food runs out, and the costumes return to their closets, the call to holiness remains. Let us teach our children to recognize not only BINI, BTS, and Blackpink, but also goodness when it appears without choreography, expensive costumes, or cheering crowds.

The greatest irony of All Saints’ Day would be to spend one day admiring the holy dead while refusing, for the remaining 364 days, to become holy ourselves.*