As the holiday spirit wraps up everyone’s year, Filipinos gather for social gatherings, communal feasts, and beloved traditions like Noche Buena and Simbang Gabi. Amid seasonal merriment, non-governmental organizations, charities, and volunteers step in to address the essentials often missed in everyday life—especially the call for care that extends beyond celebration.
Gilbert Mallari, founder of Dear Jesus Charity, describes their work as “[a] bridge to reach out to the poor.” Even during the holiday whirlwind, the initiative remains committed to organizing for people in need, boasting a ten-year dedication patched together by ocular community visits, barangay partnerships, and donation drives planned long before Christmas arrives.
Without keeping score
With 20 core members, Mallari shares that 2025 saw the highest number of volunteers. They assemble and sort in-kind donations, like food and clothes, sponsored largely by their own families and old colleagues for communities in Mayapa, while shouldering their own transportation and food expenses.
Similarly, Liwanag at Dunong, a long-term immersion program with indigenous groups, also runs a gift-giving program during Christmas. After over three months of preparation, they work with community leaders to deliver rice, clothes, and presents to families directly to their homes. “Sabi nga ‘nung mga nanay na ito, talagang [ito ang] pinakamalaking regalong na-receive nila throughout the year,” Ning Vilog, the advocacy officer shares.
(The mothers even say that this was really the most gifts they received throughout the year.)
Three years in, Vilog adds, “‘Di na rin kasi namin sila tinitingnan as beneficiaries.” They’ve become family, and the very act of giving has become a shared celebration.
(We also don’t just see them as beneficiaries.)
For Feeding Change Philippines, generosity takes on a mobile form. Founded by Lhanz Barcenas, their Christmas Outreach on Wheels drives them across Metro Manila to distribute groceries, toys, clothes, hygiene products, and medical supplies to unhoused communities.
Barcenas recalls a time when around 44 senior high school dancers from Navotas volunteered to perform for the children with special needs, even travelling to Malabon for free. It is through this tireless dedication that Feeding Change Philippines has expanded its reach to include children with special needs and inmates.
Shooting for the stars
However, even the most passionate volunteers can only do so much. As Vilog puts it, “Bare minimum itong ginagawa namin,” not as a dismissal of effort, but as an acknowledgment of the magnitude of the issues they confront.
(What we do is the bare minimum.)
Entirely volunteer-led operations render these programs vulnerable to burnout, limited funding, and uncertainty. “There were times when Liwanag at Dunong came close to ceasing operations,” Vilog shares in Filipino, citing volunteer scarcity and fading support for fundraising efforts, as these depend on their personal networks and willingness to shoulder expenses.
This is corroborated by Barcenas, who notes that mobile gift-giving demands coordination without compensation. “Even if there’s no pay, they’re going to give their time and effort,” he says, attesting to the sheer amount of grit and generosity it takes to follow through with their operations.
Beyond logistics, however, their goodwill is sometimes met with suspicion. “Na-experience namin na mga sangay [r]in ng government na nagpunta [r]ito sa community and they said na, ‘Mga aktibista naman ‘yung mga teachers ninyo. Tuturuan lang kayo mag-rebelde,’” Vilog recounts. While the communities they helped stood by their organization and initiatives, these instances are grim reminders that sustaining advocacy is not just difficult but, at times, unsound.
(We have experienced some government units going to the community and saying, “Your teachers are activists who will only teach you to rebel.”)
Still, for all that is poured into these initiatives, Mallari is blunt about what charity can and cannot do. “Hindi siya pangmatagalang solusyon. Pang-madalian lang siya. Naniniwala ako na binibigyan lang namin ng support ang local government,” he says, recognizing they only temporarily bridge gaps rather than replace systemic responsibility.
(It is not a long-term solution. It’s merely a quick fix. I believe we only give support to the local government.)
Vilog echoes this reality from working closely with indigenous communities. The most urgent needs are outside the capacity of volunteer-led efforts. “It’s as if everything else is beyond our reach,” she says, referring to issues such as infrastructure, health care, and access to education. Even when their efforts reach communities, it is often a band-aid solution.
These initiatives persist not because they believe charity is enough, but because the absence of long-term intervention leaves little choice but to act—especially during seasons when hunger, displacement, and inequality become increasingly impossible to ignore.
A wish only partly fulfilled
While policy reform moves at bureaucratic speed, hunger operates on a different clock entirely. Unfortunately, groceries are often gone by the new year, and the clothes are outgrown before the following year rolls around.
Yet, volunteerism persists. Mallari carries his resolve in his bones—selling nilagang isda at the age of nine while other families gathered for Noche Buena, he learned what holiday hunger felt like, that emptiness calcifying into purpose.
Barcenas, too, recognizes how fleeting their initiatives can be. Relief packages are consumed in days, while need stretches into decades. But etched into his memory is an image of a two-month-old baby asleep in a pushcart, with cardboard boxes serving as a roof against December’s cruel winds.
“Kapag mulat ka na, kasalanan na ‘yung pumikit,” Vilog says.
(Once you’re already aware, closing your eyes becomes a sin.)
These are ordinary people doing extraordinary work. A barangay kagawad handing out gifts. A virtual assistant teaching literacy on weekends. An e-commerce professional organizing mobile outreaches. They are not politicians with extravagant budgets, nor agencies with sound mandates—just individuals daring to defy the dearth before them.
None of them cling to the illusions of permanence. Mallari calls for a government housing program. Vilog dreams of obsolescence. Barcenas envisions job training. But while these dreams take time to materialize, the streets of Manila continue to fill with families on empty stomachs.
Still, Barcenas demands, “[The] majority of the work should be done by the government.” As Christmas lights fade and another year dawns, their persistence endures. How much longer before power finds its star to follow?
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s January 2026 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJan2026.
