The Catholic Church has drawn a quiet but radical line in the sand: politicians can still give, but their hard cash will no longer be welcome.
In a bold move that redefines the relationship between the pulpit and political power, Archbishop Anthony Muheria has unveiled a strict new policy on donations from public figures. Speaking on Tuesday, April 21, 2026, during an interview with a local television station, the outspoken cleric made it clear — the era of waving wads of notes during Sunday harambees is over.
“We don’t accept cash being presented in our harambees,” Muheria stated bluntly. “What we insist on, as far as possible, is that it should pass through the sources of a cheque or a bank transfer.”
The new directive, already being rolled out across parishes under Muheria’s watch, aims to modernise church fundraising while addressing a growing unease: the murky origins of political cash.
A Cashless Altar, A Clearer Conscience
Under the new guidelines, instead of envelopes stuffed with banknotes, parishes now present bank deposit slips. The entire transaction, Muheria explained, should be traceable — not for tax purposes, but for the sake of integrity.
Yet the Archbishop was candid about a lingering limitation. The Church has no litmus test for dirty money. No pH paper to detect the sweat of corruption.
“I’ve always said I wish I had a pH paper which I can touch on the money to say, is this clean money or not?” he admitted. “We cannot. What we do is assume, and we leave it to the conscience of the person contributing.”
But assumption, under the new policy, is no longer a blank cheque. By forcing political donations through formal banking channels, the Church creates an informal paper trail — and perhaps a deterrent.
No Announcements, No Applause
Perhaps even more striking than the cash ban is the gag rule on announcements.
Muheria insisted that no individual’s contribution — regardless of size — should be declared publicly during a harambee. The act of giving, he said, is a private covenant.
“There may be some times when someone comes for a thanksgiving and gives us some cash, and that is deposited,” he noted. “But ordinarily, what we said: no announcement of whatever contribution has been made.”
That means no more dramatic pauses as the master of ceremonies reads out a politician’s figure to applause. The transaction is now strictly between the giver and God.
A Policy Aligned with the State
The Archbishop’s move comes against a broader regulatory backdrop. The government, through Head of Public Service Felix Koskei, has already banned state officers and public servants from participating in harambees — a directive rooted in President William Ruto’s July 2024 remarks.
Koskei reminded all public officers of their obligation under Article 10 of the Constitution, the Public Officers Ethics Act, and the Public Collections Act to uphold the highest ethical standards.
Muheria’s policy does not contradict that ban. Rather, it fills a gap: what happens when politicians still try to give? The answer is now clear — they can, but not in cash, and not for applause.
A Quiet Revolution in the Pews
For a country where harambees have long blurred the line between generosity and influence-buying, Muheria’s directive is quietly revolutionary. It does not shut the door on political goodwill. It simply asks that goodwill walk through a bank — and leave its microphone behind.