Grateful for Hypocrites: How Their Contradictions Clarify My Path

It might sound strange, but I’m grateful for hypocrites. Not because I admire them—far from it—but because they’ve helped me see my own values more clearly. Watching someone say one thing and live another can be frustrating, even infuriating, but it can also be eye-opening. Hypocrites have helped me better understand who I am, what I believe, and the kind of person I never want to become.

One of the first experiences that drove this home came about a year into my vegan journey. I met another vegan who identified as a gutter punk—patched jacket, worn leather boots, angry at the world. He was the kind of person who thought shouting graphic facts and pushing PETA videos at everyone was the best form of activism. One day, he told me he wanted to throw a brick through the window of a local tattoo shop because they had a Nazi symbol in their flash art. Instead of simply not giving them business or calling it out publicly, he wanted to escalate with violence.

And yet—he was wearing leather. When I pointed it out, he shrugged and said, “The animal’s already dead, and I own them, so I’m gonna keep wearing them.” That moment changed me. I realized I had been doing the same thing—justifying old leather shoes and belts even though I no longer believed in using animals at all. The next day, I donated all my leather items to the Salvation Army. That gutter punk’s hypocrisy forced me to look at myself, and it helped me align my actions more fully with my beliefs. It also taught me not to be that kind of vegan—loud, aggressive, and self-righteous. I realized I don’t want to guilt people into change. I want to live my values with quiet conviction, not condescension.

Another, more personal experience came from someone I know who is deeply involved in the Catholic Church. On paper, they’re the picture of devotion: they attend Mass weekly, know every rule, dress perfectly for church, and take great pride in being a “good Catholic.” But behind closed doors, they’re judgmental, mean-spirited, and boastful. They love to brag—about their in-ground pool, their Bitcoin investments, their supposed moral superiority. They talk about Jesus with one breath and tear people down with the next.

Watching them made something click. I was baptized and made my first communion as a child, but I walked away before confirmation. For a long time, I wondered if I made a mistake. But after seeing how this person acts—so obsessed with appearances, yet so lacking in compassion—I realized I made the right decision. I didn’t want to be part of a system where that kind of behavior could be hidden behind ritual and status. I still believe in God. I still believe in Christ. But I no longer believe that Catholicism is the only path—or even the right path—for me. That hypocrite didn’t drive me away from faith. They helped me understand that I never left it in the first place. I just chose not to tie it to an institution that seemed more concerned with image than integrity.

So yes, I’m grateful for hypocrites. They’ve made me uncomfortable, they’ve annoyed me, and at times, they’ve hurt me—but they’ve also taught me. They’ve helped me grow into someone more honest, more aware, and more committed to living what I believe, even when it’s hard. In their contradictions, I found clarity. In their behavior, I found boundaries. And in the lives they model, I found a mirror—and the choice to walk a different way.