IN an age where moral compromise has become the currency of power, the ancient wisdom of Scripture feels startlingly relevant. St. Paul’s words to the Ephesians don’t read like gentle advice—they sound like a call to arms:
“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.” (Ephesians 5:11)
Today, that charge echoes through the murky depths of one of the Philippines’ most disturbing scandals: the so-called ghost flood control projects. According to recent reports, millions—possibly billions—of pesos have been funneled into infrastructure projects that exist only on paper.
In a country that faces devastating typhoons year after year, real flood control isn’t a luxury. It’s a lifeline. The betrayal, then, cuts especially deep.
These projects were supposed to protect the most vulnerable—from rising waters, from washed-out roads, from loss of life and livelihood. Instead, they’ve been swallowed by a swamp of forged documents, fictitious contractors, and deafening institutional silence. Concrete was promised. Only shadows were delivered.
Paul’s command to the Ephesians is clear: Expose the darkness. Not just avoid it. Don’t just talk around it. Expose it. This isn’t passive righteousness. It’s active resistance.
Too often, corruption thrives not just because of those who commit it, but because of those who stay silent. When communities, institutions—even churches—look away out of fear, convenience, or complicity, the “unfruitful works of darkness” grow bold. They flourish in plain sight.
The ghost projects aren’t just a failure of governance. They are a moral failure. A theft not just of money, but of trust. Of safety. Of life itself. And in the face of such decay, faith must not retreat behind stained glass windows. It must speak.
Where are the voices of spiritual leaders condemning this theft from the poor? Where is the righteous anger from churches, public servants, and citizens who know that silence in the face of injustice is injustice itself?
Ephesians 5:11 calls us to break that silence. Darkness survives when light refuses to shine. And light begins with exposure—through courageous journalism, community action, whistleblowers, and yes, from the pulpit.
Let’s be clear: Exposing corruption is not rebellion. It is obedience. Obedience to a higher moral authority—one that demands truth, justice, and compassion for the vulnerable.
In a country where disaster is tragically routine, misusing funds meant to protect the people is not just theft. It is endangerment.
And as the next storm looms—both literal and political—we must ask ourselves — Will we turn away and let these works of darkness grow stronger? Or will we, like Paul, like Christ, dare to expose them?
Because in the end, the soul of a nation may depend on how we answer.
