Teach Us to Pray (17th Sunday Ordinary C)

Many people today do not pray. The commonest reason perhaps is this: “I’m too busy.” There are just too many concerns and demands from work and too little time. Another reason is from the restless young people: “Prayer is boring. We want adventure.” Perhaps those who used to pray but have experienced some unanswered prayer would say: “I’m tired of praying. Prayer doesn’t work.” Those who believe in the Omniscience of God assume that God knows their needs. So there’s no need to pray; God provides anyway. And those who have an “I-did-it-my-way” complex assert their independence and self-sufficiency. For them, to bend one’s knees in prayer is a sign of weakness. Still others do not pray simply because they don’t know how.

Whatever our reasons for not praying are, we need to realize, as the gospel reading today (Lk 11:1-13) reminds us, that Jesus Himself, the Son of God, the Anointed One, the Savior of the world, always found time to be alone in prayer. Jesus believed in the power of prayer and saw its utmost importance as an integral part of his life and mission. Hence, he taught his disciples how to pray.

In Jesus’ teachings on prayer in the gospel reading today and in Abraham’s persistent haggling with God in the first reading, we can discern some forms of prayer and some essential inner dispositions that we ought to consider for the growth of our prayer life.

Praise and Worship. The “Lord’s Prayer” may be seen as having two parts. The first part consists of praising and worshiping God as our Father whose name we glorify and whose reign we desire in our lives. As our Father, He is acknowledged as the source of what we have and are. We accept his sovereignty in heaven and on earth. Jesus himself had always submitted to the will of the Father. His life was a constant praise and worship of the Father.

Don’t we have our own reasons for praising and worshipping God, our Father? When we honestly take account of our blessings in life, it would be but a natural overflow of joy, gratitude and awe that we praise and worship the Lord. I’ve seen and joined some faithful who dance and sing with gusto their praises to the Almighty and All-loving God. It has always been an exhilarating experience, far from being boring.

Petition. The second half of the prayer of Jesus is focused on our needs. We call them petitions. We ask for our present needs, our daily bread. We ask for forgiveness of our past--our debts, trespasses, and forms of sinfulness as we commit to be forgiving to others too. And we ask to ensure our future with God by our deliverance from the evil one. In this prayer, we acknowledge that our present, past, and future depend on the graciousness and mercy of God.

Intercession. When our petitions go beyond our own needs and express the needs of others, we are offering intercessory prayers. We pray on behalf of others. We find ourselves doing this because we care for others. We are a community. We are one family. We have a common Father in heaven. The first reading (Gen 18:20-32), for instance, recounts how Abraham interceded for the people of Sodom. He persistently haggled with God, trying to save the sinful people from the impending destruction. The story shows that God actively listens to Abraham’s intercession.

A good model of petition and intercession is Pope Francis’ simple method of prayer using one's fingers:

"The thumb is the closest finger to you. So start praying for those who are closest to you. They are the persons easiest to remember. To pray for our dear ones is a “sweet obligation.”

“The next finger is the index. Pray for those who teach you, instruct you and heal you. They need the support and wisdom to show direction to others. Always keep them in your prayers.”

“The following finger is the tallest. It reminds us of our leaders, the governors and those who have authority. They need God’s guidance.”

“The fourth finger is the ring finger. Even that it may surprise you, it is our weakest finger. It should remind us to pray for the weakest, the sick or those plagued by problems. They need your prayers.”

“And finally we have our smallest finger, the smallest of all. Your pinkie should remind you to pray for yourself. When you are done praying for the other four groups, you will be able to see your own needs but in the proper perspective, and also you will be able to pray for your own needs in a better way."

Persistent Disposition. The parable of the importunate friend in today’s gospel highlights an important disposition in prayer: Persistence. Not that God requires to be badgered before He listens to our cries, but that our perseverance reveals the true desire of our hearts. We desire many things and many of which are not essential. Only that which is truly essential keeps us motivated and persevering. As we persevere in prayer, we realize that it is God himself, not just his blessings, that our heart yearns. This yearning cannot be turned down by a God who has yearned for us first and foremost.

Trust in God. Another essential disposition in prayer is trust in the goodness and wisdom of God. God is our Father; He is all-good and all-wise. If a sinful earthly father can still be trusted to provide good things to his children, how much more is the heavenly Father worthy of our total trust? When we pray then, we are entrusting our heart’s desire to the care of our loving and wise Father. I think this disposition of trust is what made Mother Teresa assert: “Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God…”

If still we don’t find ourselves drawn to prayer, let us make just one humble petition: Lord, teach us to pray.

The Better Part (16th Sunday Ordinary C)

Today’s Gospel (Luke 10:38–42) brings us into the warm and familiar home of two sisters: Martha and Mary. Jesus, their beloved friend, comes to visit, and like any of us welcoming a guest—especially someone as special as the Lord!—there’s excitement, preparation, and, yes, a bit of stress. We can picture Martha bustling about: checking the bread, stirring the pot, setting the table. And Mary? She’s doing something unexpected… she's just sitting there—at Jesus’ feet—listening.

And suddenly, we find ourselves drawn into this quiet tension between action and stillness, between doing and being. Between Martha and Mary.

Listening to Jesus is our first call. The Gospel tells us that Mary “sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying” (v. 39). This wasn't laziness or avoidance. In fact, in the culture of the time, sitting at the feet of a rabbi meant something very specific—it meant being a disciple.

Mary wasn’t simply relaxing; she was learning, absorbing, contemplating. She was fully present to Jesus. And what’s so beautiful is that Jesus welcomes this. He defends her choice. That was radical in His time—and it still is.

So here’s the question for us: Are we listening to Jesus? Or are we so busy—even with good things—that we miss His voice?

In our world of constant noise, notifications, and to-do lists, this Gospel is a gentle call back to what matters most. Maybe the most loving thing we can do today is turn off our phones, open the Scriptures, sit in silence, and just be with Him.

Even good work can distract. Now, let’s be clear: Martha wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was serving! She was being responsible! But notice what Jesus says:

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things” (v. 41).

He doesn’t scold her for working—He lovingly points out that her worry is distracting her from what matters most. The original Greek word for “distracted” literally means “to be pulled apart.” Can anyone relate?

Sometimes we are so busy doing things for Jesus, we forget to spend time with Him. This is especially true for those in ministry, those caring for family, those working multiple jobs to make ends meet. Like Martha, we may be faithful—but also stressed out.

Jesus isn’t telling us to stop working—He’s inviting us to work from a place of peace, not panic. From communion, not compulsion.

So, choose the better part. Jesus concludes, “Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (v. 42).

What Mary chose wasn’t the only good thing, but it was the better thing. And what is that better part? It’s being with Jesus. It’s the eternal treasure of knowing and loving God. All our work will one day pass—but the relationship we build with Christ will last forever.

This “better part” is not about doing less—it’s about living from the center. From the heart of Christ.

We are all both Martha and Mary. And the challenge is to find the balance: to serve like Martha, yes—but to listen like Mary. To be active in the world, but rooted in prayer. To move through life not frantic and fragmented, but focused on the One Thing Necessary.

Go and Do Likewise (15th Sunday Ordinary C)

The Harvard sociologist Robert Putnam published his article, “American Grace,” revealing his discovery that the loss of community in America is counterbalanced by a social capital that is kept alive in one place more than any other—in the house of worship. His study reveals that church-goers are more likely to engage in charitable works than their secular counterpart. Those who go to church are more likely willing to do voluntary work, give donation to homeless people, donate blood, help a neighbor in need, help someone find a job, etc.

(Picture from twitter # Sendong)

This is an affirmation of the message of today’s gospel (Lk 10: 25-37) which places love at the heart of Christian ethics. The Parable of the Good Samaritan is a timeless story of everyone’s primary responsibility in love to take care of those who are in need, the neighbor.  Putnam’s study somehow reveals how the message of the parable continues to be incarnated in today’s Christian commitment to loving service in our communities.

Let us reflect more deeply on this primary responsibility to love as taught by today’s gospel reading.  Two things for our reflection: First, the primacy of love over any other law; second, the active nature of love.

Primacy of Love. The gospel reading presents a dialogue between Jesus and the scholar of the law. The conversation leads to an agreement that, according to the law, what brings eternal life is following the greatest commandments, that is, love of God and love of neighbor.  This is illustrated, then, by the parable of the Good Samaritan which effectively employs irony to bring the message across quite powerfully.

The priest and the Levite, who enjoy respectable religious status and are expected to be more loving than others, are portrayed to have fallen short of the duty to love. They have placed more importance on the laws governing ritual purity so that they avoided helping and having to touch the blood of a dying man.  They seemed to have been more concerned about their ritual functions in the temple than their duty to show mercy and love to someone in dire need.

On the other hand, the Samaritan, who is a social outcast due to religious, cultural and political reasons, is described as being readily concerned and compassionate to the robber’s victim.  The Samaritan’s act of love becomes a criticism of the misplaced priority of the ritualistic priest and Levite. Love is the greatest of all commandments.

Our religious piety is not bad as it is an integral part of our faith expression.  But it should not become our comfort zone where we feel secure as we hide from and avoid the demands of loving. Instead, an authentic piety must lead us to greater sensitivity to the neighbor’s needs and even bring joy to our commitment to the works of charity.

Love in Action.  It is one thing to know and understand what love is and its significance in our faith; it’s quite another to actually do it. Love is not so much an idea as a commitment to act.  When the scholar of the law correctly presented the two greatest commandments of love as the way to eternal life, Jesus agreed: “You have answered correctly.”  He did not stop with this simple affirmation though.  Jesus emphasized the necessity of acting according to the greatest commandments as he continued to say: “Do this and you will live” (v. 28).

The scholar of the law wished to justify himself and continued to ask Jesus: “And who is my neighbor?” It is to this question that Jesus narrated the parable of the Good Samaritan where both the priest and the Levite refused to extend their helping hand to the dying man while the Samaritan compassionately assisted him. It is important to note that Jesus, then, changed the question.  It is no longer about “who is my neighbor.” Jesus asked the scholar of his opinion that among the three “who acted as a neighbor.”

The scholar got the correct answer again of course: “The one who treated him with mercy.” And Jesus finally gave him this instruction: “Go and do likewise.” The scholar of the law was seeking understanding and knowledge, or was just testing Jesus’ wisdom; but Jesus was directing him beyond knowledge of the law. Jesus was challenging him to act according to the greatest of all laws—the law of love.

The same challenge is thrown to all of us his disciples: Go and do likewise. We easily know who our neighbor is. Any one in need is our neighbor.  But the real question is, “am I willing to act as a neighbor?”

Robert Putnam’s discovery about the availability of church-goers for charity works is an encouraging observation.  Let us make that same observation true to all the communities we belong to. Let us make the message of the parable of the Good Samaritan alive in our communities. Let us listen to Jesus instructing us, “Go and do likewise.”

The Joy in Mission (14th Sunday Ordinary C)

“New Evangelization” has, perhaps, become the catchword in Church circles over these past years when we have acknowledged this generation’s crisis of faith in many Christian countries due to the inroads of secularist and materialist way of thinking.  We recall during the Year of Faith (2012), we were exhorted by Pope Benedict XVI “to rediscover the joy of believing and the enthusiasm for communicating the faith” [PF, no. 6]. We were invited to engage in the task of evangelization with renewed joy and enthusiasm.

In one of the anniversary celebrations of the Couples for Christ held in Manila I brushed elbows with thousands of lay people swarming the Quirino Grandstand to thank God for the blessings and fruits of their mission worldwide.  I met many of the lay leaders whose all-out commitment to the work of evangelization puts me to shame. And their sense of mission to spread the gospel to “the ends of the earth” is characterized by obvious and contagious joy and enthusiasm.  Deep inside me was a growing confidence that God is, indeed, listening to the prayer of His Church for more labourers in his Kingdom. This time, God is calling and sending more from the “rank” of the laity.

Era of the Laity. Today’s gospel (Lk 10:1-12, 17-20) recounts the appointment of the seventy two disciples whom the Lord sent for the mission of proclaiming the reign of God.  Clearly the Lord sees the need, apart from the twelve apostles, for more collaborators in the mission. The work of evangelization, if it is to make a dent in today’s crisis of faith among Christian countries, cannot remain an exclusive task of the ordained ministers. In the spirit of the 2^nd Vatican Council and ensuing papal exhortations, lay apostolate ought to flourish and be propelled to rejuvenate the life of the Church. The Church, dominantly controlled by the ordained ministers, has to pave the way for lay empowerment and participation in her mission.  It must be, for the ordained, a joy to behold that the lay who have been evangelized are now themselves effective and joyful evangelizers!

Clericalism, which assigns the sole authority over almost all the aspects of ecclesial life to the rank of the ordained and sees the role of the laity in terms of the submissive stance of “paying, praying and obeying,” has to become a thing of the past. The life and mission of the Church will be blessed with abundant fruits and great harvests as we empower the lay and send them as collaborators in the work of proclaiming the reign of God.

As we pray for more workers for God’s abundant harvest (v. 2), we implore for more vocations not only for the religious and priestly ministry. This prayer should also be an ardent appeal for more committed lay collaborators who, by their joyful witnessing of God’s love and mercy, proclaim to the world that God’s reign is at hand.

The Joy of Discipleship-in-mission.  So much for the difficult and hard demands of discipleship, today’s gospel points out the joy inherent in the fulfilment of the mission of a disciple. Discipleship, even if often described as costly, difficult, not-a-walk-in-the-park commitment, is nonetheless characterized by joy.  It is not a surprise, for instance, that the list of the ten happiest jobs (according to the General Social Survey by the National Organization for Research at the University of Chicago) is topped by the clergy and followed by other service-oriented professions.  Among these professions, the least worldly are reported to be the happiest of all. The happiness is observed to be directly proportionate to the ability and opportunity to be of service—a distinctive mark of Christian discipleship.

The gospel recounts that the seventy two returned rejoicing, and said, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us because of your name” (v. 17).

The meaning of discipleship does not rest only in the act of following and in the painful learning of the discipline and teachings. It finds its fulfillment in being sent. What brings so much joy and evokes enthusiasm is the dynamic life brought about by discipleship-in-mission.  A disciple who stays in one’s comfort zone may bask in one’s security but will eventually suffer emptiness. But the one who embraces the risk in giving himself/herself to the mission will find Christian life an exciting adventure.

There is joy in being sent by the Lord. This is the joy of participating in and witnessing firsthand the fulfillment of the reign of God in our midst. This is the joy of victory, as the Lord assures a missionary that, whenever the name of Jesus is proclaimed and embraced in faith, Satan “falls like lightning from the sky” (v. 18). This is the joy of belonging to God as ultimate reward, as Jesus promises that the names of the disciples sent are written in heaven (v. 20).

In today’s context of crisis of faith, where are we sent by the Lord that we may proclaim with joy and enthusiasm the beauty of our faith? In our parochial ministries and apostolate, can we move along the direction of a joyful and enthusiastic collaboration between the pastor and the lay?

"Pilgrims of Hope: In the Footsteps of Peter and Paul"

Today, the Church pauses to celebrate two great pillars of our faith—Saints Peter and Paul. They were different in personality, background, and even in their approaches to mission, but united in one faith, one Lord, and one Church. 

As we reflect on the readings, we draw three points that invite us into deeper discipleship—through Paul, through Peter, and through the call of the Church today. 

Saint Paul: A Life Poured Out in Faithful Witness 

In our second reading, we hear Saint Paul's powerful words to Timothy: "I am already being poured out like a libation... I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." These are not just the words of a man nearing the end of his life—they are the echo of a soul completely offered to Christ. Paul, once a persecutor, became the tireless missionary, preaching the Gospel to the Gentiles, founding communities, enduring beatings, shipwrecks, prison, and rejection. But Paul's significance is not just in his heroic endurance. It is in his absolute dependence on the grace of Christ: "The Lord stood by me and gave me strength." (2 Tim 4:17) 

In Paul, we see the Church's missionary heart—a heart that goes to the margins, crosses cultural boundaries, and proclaims Jesus crucified and risen with boldness and love. His life calls us to ask: What am I pouring my life out for? And do I allow the Lord to stand by me in my weakness? 

Saint Peter: Called to Lead with Confession and Courage

In the Gospel, Jesus asks the disciples, "Who do you say I am?" Peter, moved by divine inspiration, responds: "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." Jesus replies with a remarkable commission: "You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church." 

Peter's role is foundational. Although he was impulsive, often uncertain, even fearful—he was chosen to be the visible sign of unity, the chief shepherd, and the first among the apostles. And we see this leadership in action in the first reading, where Peter is imprisoned for preaching Christ but miraculously freed—because nothing can imprison the Word of God. 

Peter reminds us that the Church is both human and divine. He had moments of failure—denying Christ—but he also had the humility to repent and the courage to lead. His life teaches us that the Church is not led by perfect people, but by forgiven ones who have encountered Jesus and follow Him boldly. 

Do we see ourselves as part of this living Church? And like Peter, are we ready to confess Christ publicly—even when it's risky? 

The Church Today: Pilgrims of Hope Amid Modern Chains 

As we look around our world, we might ask: What would Peter and Paul say if they saw the Church today? 

We are no longer imprisoned in stone cells or beaten with rods—but we face new chains: Fear of speaking the truth in love, a culture that often dismisses faith as irrelevant, scandals that have wounded our credibility, a growing sense of isolation and spiritual fatigue among many believers.

But this is where the call of the Jubilee Year 2025 becomes especially urgent. Pope Francis has invited us to be "Pilgrims of Hope." That is not a poetic phrase—it's a prophetic one. As pilgrims, we are not settled; we are on a journey. As people of hope, we walk not by sight but by trust in the Risen Lord. 

Peter and Paul were pilgrims of hope in their time. So we must be in ours. Let us ask: What chains do we need the Lord to break in our lives, so we can walk freely as witnesses of hope? How can we, in our parishes, families, and communities, live the mission with renewed courage and joy? 

Saints Peter and Paul remind us that the Church was built not by comfort, but by courage—not by perfection, but by grace. Paul gave everything in love. Peter led with a heart changed by mercy. Now, it is our time. Let us rise as pilgrims of hope, walking in their footsteps, proclaiming with our lives: "Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God!" Amen.

Sharing Even the Last Bread (Corpus Christi C)

What can five loaves and two fish do? How can these ever satisfy the hunger of the multitude? Five loaves and two fish for the five thousand men?!  Not to mention women and children who were most likely among the crowd! Impossible!

This must have been the thoughts of the apostles in today’s gospel (Lk 9: 11b-17) as they counselled Jesus to dismiss the crowd that they might find their own lodging and provisions.  The feeling of helplessness and resignation must have dominated the apostles’ attitude:  Helplessness because of the obvious poverty of resources in the face of so great a need; and resignation because they felt no longer capable of addressing the crowd’s hunger. The need was simply beyond what they thought they could handle, so they opted for the easy solution—“dismiss the crowd” (v. 12).

This temptation to feel helpless and resigned is indeed very strong whenever we are confronted with the problem of having to come to terms with so little resources for so great a need.  I had the opportunity to start a parish from out of a rural chapel community. Right away as I began the journey with the people, I was made aware of so many things to be done which required, of course, resources.  Indeed, there were times when we were tempted to feel helpless whenever we realized we have very little to start with.  It wasn’t difficult to wonder, as the Lord’s apostles did, what can five loaves and two fish do in the face of all the needs.

Sharing overcomes poverty. But the gospel today not only assures us that we are not left alone in our poverty but also shows us the secret to overcoming the needs of the community.  As an assurance, Jesus does not dismiss the hungry crowd to fend for themselves. Rather, the gospel recounts that after gathering the people, Jesus takes, blesses, breaks, and gives the five loaves and two fish to the crowd to satisfy everyone present and even amazes them with the abundant surplus afterwards. Jesus takes whatever we can offer even out of our poverty, blesses them and does his marvelous works out of them.  Jesus brings us out of the helplessness of our poverty and assures us of the unlimited abundance that he offers. The secret: He starts by asking what we have to offer. The secret to abundance is sharing even whatever little we have.

Are we willing to offer him the last bread and fish that we have? Or do we hold on to our limited resources to make sure we have something left for ourselves albeit little?

I am more and more convinced that any form of poverty in any community is fundamentally rooted in the unwillingness of the individuals to share what they are keeping for themselves. There’s a lot of wisdom in our erstwhile national slogan, “Bayan muna bago sarili.” We could have been enjoying in abundance now had we truly lived by the maxim. Instead, starting from our public leaders down to the hoi poloi, what we tend to do is to make sure that we get for ourselves or our families and clan whatever is up for grabs.  “Sarili muna bago ang bayan.” Isn't this complete disregard of the common good in favor of our selfish agenda which serves as the sturdy backbone of the poverty in many of our communities?

Becoming a Eucharistic Community. The gospel today recounting the multiplication of bread and fish alludes to the last supper event when Jesus instituted the Eucharist.  His four acts, taking, blessing, breaking, and giving are common to these two events. So more than just a recounting of Jesus’ miraculous acts of multiplication of the bread, the gospel today is a catechesis on the Eucharist. The community that Jesus founded is essentially a Eucharistic community. A community that gathers, celebrates, and makes present the self-sacrificing act of Jesus at the last supper. Jesus offered to the Father not just any bread. What He took, blessed, broke, and gave was no longer an ordinary bread but the bread of life—his body, his very self.

What do we have to offer? Jesus wants us to offer even the last bread that we keep. It is little for sure. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that we offer the little that we have for the good of the community we belong to just as He offered himself for the sake of the many.

A Eucharistic community will always be one that transcends self-centeredness, one whose members are willing to do some acts of self-sacrifice... of “breaking” oneself to be “given” to others.

Hence, the Solemnity of Corpus Christi today is a renewal of our commitment as a Eucharistic community where the miracle of our Lord continues to happen. And the miracle is this: that each one of us is willing to give whatever one has, even one’s very self, for the good of the community just as Jesus does.  Then, we can be the joyful witnesses of the amazing left-over and abundance of God’s grace more than enough to dispel our sense of helplessness and our defeatist resignation.

A Trying-Hard God (Trinity Sunday C)

Reciprocity is an essential element in loving. Love cannot thrive in isolation. It naturally transcends itself and seeks and reaches out to a beloved and yearns for reciprocity for its fulfillment.  An unreciprocated love grieves in pain and may eventually perish; if not, it endures the agony of rejection in silence like a mother weeping in secret because of her ungrateful child. But when love is reciprocated, it celebrates with joy.  It throbs with life. It turns itself into a powerful creative force. It becomes life-giving.

God as Trinity of Love.  God is love; and the best way to appreciate this truth is to see it in terms of a dynamic reciprocity of loving within God’s self. One of the analogies presented by St. Augustine for an understanding of the mystery of the Trinity, albeit not his favorite, is the analogy of interpersonal love.  Love requires a Lover, a beloved, and the reciprocal bond of love that unites them. The Infinite Lover, whom we call in human language, Father, reaches out to the object of his self-transcending love, the Beloved whom we call Son. The Son, in turn, eternally reciprocates the Father’s love, hence, giving rise to the mutual love that unites them. We understand this bond of love as the Holy Spirit. Thus, God is a Trinity of love. As such, God’s love is not static. It is dynamic as it is an eternal movement of reciprocal loving.

God’s dynamic self-transcending love provides the ground for God’s creative act and God’s self-revelation. Simply put, God created us and revealed God’s self to us because He is love, because it is love’s greatest joy and desire to share and care for another. Today’s readings point to these two acts of the Triune God-- creation and revelation.

Trinity’s Creative Act and Self-Revelation. The first reading (Prov 8:22-31) alludes to the eternal presence and role of the Holy Spirit in God’s creative act.  Proverb’s personification of wisdom finds her present with God in the entire process of creation. As the wisdom of God, in the language of the Old Testament, the Spirit was with God before the creation of the earth, water, mountains and hills. When the Lord established the heavens, made firm the skies, fixed the foundations of the earth, and set the limits of the sea, the Spirit was there “beside” the Lord as his craftsman (v. 30).

The gospel reading (Jn 16: 12-15), on the other hand, illustrates the Trinitarian act of revelation.  Jesus, the Son, is the Father’s revelation. Everything that the Father has is possessed by the Son.  It is this “truth” that Jesus has spoken of and nothing more.  The Holy Spirit, the Advocate, as promised by the Lord, serves two important functions: to enlighten the disciples in the fuller understanding of Jesus and his revelation; second, to glorify Christ as the sole mediator, the “truth” of God.

Solemnity of the Most Blessed Trinity.  Today’s solemnity allows us to appreciate the truth that God is a Trinity of Love.  And out of love, God acts as a Trinity first in creating the world, the universe, and us. And as if it were not enough, He not only created us, He revealed Himself to us through God’s Word, Jesus Christ, and through the enlightenment of the Holy Spirit.

What I see amazes me tremendously.  God has gone out of his way creating us and revealing Himself to us because He is love. His desire is to reach out to us and share God’s life.  God desires to be in relationship with us his people because it is love’s nature. In the book of John, God always does the initiative in loving. God has loved us first. He is a God who offers his love and He is really trying hard.  We probably believe that God does not need us because He is self-sufficient.  So, all too often, we don’t’ take seriously his offer of love.  On this Trinity Sunday, we see a trying-hard God, a God who has done everything in his power to manifest his love to us. We ought to understand, as God’s image and likeness, that when love is offered, it longs for reciprocity.  When it is reciprocated, it rejoices; when ignored or rejected, it grieves. God, I believe, longs for all creation to accept and respond to his offer of love.  No wonder that the Lord Jesus always exclaim that there is much rejoicing in the heavens when a sinner comes back to God’s embrace.

No wonder, too, from among the hundreds of commandments, Jesus points quite easily to the most important of all to guide us: First, love of God and, second, love of neighbor.   The Kingdom of God in its fulfillment is undoubtedly characterized by this dynamic reciprocity of loving, which is, after all, the very nature of the Triune God.

This Sunday, let us heighten our awareness of God’s offer of love.  Our God, the Triune God, longs that we love him in return.  When we are not ready, know that He, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, will do everything to draw us close to Him until we love him freely.  He is a God who really tries hard.

The Miracle of Pentecost (Pentecost Sunday C)

When God closes a door, He opens up another.  Just as the ascension of our Lord practically put a closure to the mission of the historical Jesus, the Pentecost event opened up a new era—the era of the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit, of course, has always been active in the life and work of Jesus; but the powerful event of Pentecost announces quite dramatically and distinctively the unique and empowering role of the Holy Spirit in elevating to a new level the same mission of Jesus Christ, this time, through the ministry of the Church.

Pentecost Sunday reminds us of two significant events that transpired as the work of the Holy Spirit: One is the “universalization” of the message of Jesus and, another is the launching of the Church on mission.

The Universalization of Jesus’ Message. Jesus lived and preached in a particular place and time. His message was necessarily couched in the symbolisms and literary styles of a particular culture. Needless to say, his message could have been meaningful only to the locality where he was situated. At Pentecost, however, the Holy Spirit universalized his otherwise localized message.  The power of the Holy Spirit overcame the “limits” of the human condition through which Jesus revealed his Father’s love.

Pentecost was originally one of the greatest feasts in Jewish calendar commemorating the giving of the Law of Moses in Mt. Sinai. Jews and foreigners coming from different countries did their pilgrimage to Jerusalem on this great feast.  So that on Pentecost day, as we have it in the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles 2:1-11, the Spirit moved the apostles to proclaim “the mighty acts of God.”  They spoke in a foreign tongue; but to the astonishment of the hearers who were from different nations, they heard and understood the message in their own language!  As recounted in Acts:  “Full of amazement and wonder, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? How is it that we hear them in our own native language?” (Acts 2:7-8).

Such is the miracle of Pentecost.  Christ’s disciples were understood by people from different nations. Indeed, as promised by Jesus, we should not let our hearts be troubled. The Holy Spirit, sent by the Father as the Paraclete, brings understanding. The Holy Spirit sees to it that Jesus’ message will be understood by many.  The Good News is now actually preached to all the ends of the earth. The Good News of God’s love is for everyone regardless of race, gender, socio-economic status. Thanks to the Holy Spirit.

The Launching of the Church on Mission. The era of the Holy Spirit is also the era of the Church. Jesus Christ has passed on to his followers the baton of responsibility to preach the Good News to all peoples. Pentecost is the moment when the Holy Spirit gave birth to the Church. It is through this community of believers that repentance and forgiveness of sins will be proclaimed. The Church is on mission.

Pentecost Sunday reminds us that the Church’s being and mission is essentially dependent on the enabling power of the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit that guides the Church to proclaim the truth of God’s love; it is the Holy Spirit that empowers her to forgive sins; it is the Holy Spirit that animates the Church with manifold gifts for various ministries. It is the Holy Spirit that draws together people of diverse cultures and it is the Holy Spirit that incorporates them into the one body of Christ.

Understanding the indispensable role of the Holy Spirit in the life of the Church brings a sigh of relief to pastoral agents facing great challenges in continuing the mission of the Church.  Pastoral work, after all, is not about the work of the pastor. It is the work of the Holy Spirit. Those who are working in the Church should not commit the mistake of believing that the Church’s work is their own personal project. If they do, they’ll be impoverishing the community, reducing the ministry to a pathetic display of their self-proclaimed expertise, oblivious of the manifold gifts of the Holy Spirit present in all the members of the community.

Today is Pentecost Sunday.  Let us pray for the miracle of Pentecost:  May the Holy Spirit once again embolden and inspire the Church  to preach the gospel of Christ with a renewed conviction and enthusiasm; and may through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the Church proclaim effectively the grace of repentance and forgiveness of sins and welcome into her warm embrace those who enter the Holy Door of God's mercy. 

On this Day of Victory (Ascension Sunday C)

Probably an 18th Century composition, the following hymn on the Solemnity of the Ascension captures not only the meaning of the mystery but also the joy and exultation proper to the celebration of the ultimate victory of Christ on his ascension. If you don’t know the music, enjoy the poetry:

Let the earth rejoice and sing, alleluia!
At the triumph of our King, alleluia!
He ascends from mortal sight, alleluia!
Reigns now at our Father’s right, alleluia!

He who died upon a tree, alleluia!
Now shall reign eternally, alleluia!
He who saved our fallen race, alleluia!
Takes in heav’n his rightful place, alleluia!

Jesus, Lord, all hail to thee, alleluia!
On this day of victory, alleluia!
Thou didst shatter Satan’s might, alleluia!
Rising glorious from the fight, alleluia!

Jesus, Victor, hear our prayer, alleluia!
In thy triumph let us share, alleluia!
Lift our minds and hearts above, alleluia!
Strengthen all men in thy love, alleluia!

While in heaven thou dost gaze, alleluia!
On thy Church who sings thy praise, alleluia!
Fasten all our hope in thee, alleluia!
Till thy face unveiled we see, alleluia!

Ascension, Cause for our Joy.  The hymn expresses what the disciples themselves felt as they witnessed the event of the Lord’s ascension to heaven. In today’s gospel reading (Lk  24:46-53), the disciples, who are witnesses to “all these things,” are reported to have returned to Jerusalem WITH GREAT JOY and they continually praised God in the temple (v.52-53).  Today’s Solemnity allows us to share in that same joy as we contemplate the mystery and the great implication it has in our Christian life.

In Luke’s gospel, the ascension account serves as the conclusion. The ascension is shown as the victorious completion of the mission of Jesus.  The Jesus event—his life, teachings, ministry, suffering, death, and resurrection—comes to a close in his ascension to heaven. A new era, that of the Spirit, is being ushered. Pentecost is in the horizon.

But what is there to rejoice about in the mystery of the Lord’s ascension? Theologians have spelled out the significance of Jesus’ resurrection-ascension for our salvation. Many have pointed out that Jesus’ resurrection (inclusive of ascension) is his vindication.  He had suffered greatly following the will of the Father.  On his death, he had painfully cried out for an answer to the unfathomable experience of total abandonment. He died clinging to only one thing—trust in his Father’s faithful love. His resurrection then is seen as the loving answer of the Father.  But more than just a vindication, the resurrection-ascension event fulfils and completes the saving mission of Jesus.  It is through his resurrection-ascension that Jesus, the God-man, attains his permanent glory as He “goes back” to the Father. In Jesus, the God-man, human race is born permanently into the very life of God, the Triune God.  Hence, human being has fulfilled his destiny. In Jesus, humanity has now become a sharer of divine life. Nothing can change this anymore!  Jesus’ victory is definite.  This is the cause of the great joy of Jesus’ witnesses. This is the cause of our exultation!

Ascension, Source of our Hope.  The first reading (Acts 1:1-11), recounted the words of the “two men dressed in white garments” who suddenly stood beside the apostles while they were looking intently at the sky: “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven” (v. 11). Today’s Solemnity of the Lord’s Ascension invites us to “lift our minds and hearts above” that we may always find hope for life’s persistent experience of uncertainties and seeming defeat in the reassuring victory of Christ and that we may anticipate the glorious return of our Lord in the final fulfilment of history.

As we continue to wade through the vicissitudes of our earthly life, we need to gaze heavenward to be always reminded of the victory of Jesus of which we are a sharer.  The desperate power of evil continues to deceive us sowing doubt and despair in humanity.  Disheartening us.  Taking advantage of the faint-hearted faith. But to us whose gaze is fixed on the victory of Jesus, evil is unmasked of its pretentions.  We see it as it is—fallen!

Thus, no matter how the work of evil seems to continue to undermine our personal journey of faith through our sins, destroy the foundation of families, corrupt our institutions, sow discord and injustices in society and mindlessly abuse the abundance of God’s creation, let us not allow ourselves to fall into the pit of despair.  Jesus’ ascension has won for us our destiny which nothing can change.  And we are awaiting his final glory. Let this be our hope. And as hopeful people, we can see to it that our actions and decisions in life continue to represent the optimism of kindling even tiny sparks of light amid the magnitude of darkness rather than the resigned and futile cursing of the dark.  

The solemnity we celebrate today inspires us, amid the tides of godless secularism and materialism, to become Jesus’ witnesses to the ends of the earth. On this day of victory “let the earth rejoice and sing” as we witness with renewed JOY and rekindled HOPE.  

To Jesus, the Lord of history, seated at the Father’s right hand, we now pray:

While in heaven thou dost gaze, alleluia!

On thy Church who sings thy praise, alleluia!

Fasten all our hope in thee, alleluia!

Till thy face unveiled we see, alleluia! 

God’s Two Hands (6th Sunday Easter C)

The Father works with his two hands: the Word and the Spirit. It was Irenaeus of Lyons, one of the early Fathers of the Church, who expressed this Trinitarian understanding of God’s activity in salvation history. This Trinitarian outlook can help us approach the gospel reading today (Jn 14:23-29) with a keen awareness of the complimentary roles of Jesus, the Word of God, and of the Spirit, the Advocate, in making God present in our Christian living.

God is made present in our lives through the Word and the Spirit. Today’s gospel stresses this truth: God lives in us when we keep his Word and as we allow the Holy Spirit to empower us in our Christian witnessing. Let us have a word for each of these two agents of God’s indwelling in us.

Keeping the Word of God. Jesus is the Word of the Father. We can only come to know God through his Word, his self-revelation. No wonder, Jesus stresses, as part of his leave-taking discourse, the principle of the concurrence of the indwelling of God with the observance of his word. As we have it in the gospel today: “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him” (v. 23).

To Keep the Word of God means getting to know Jesus, listening to him, and obeying his commandments. It means living out in our daily lives everything he has taught us. When we do this, God lives in us. Negatively expressed, today’s gospel reminds us of the incompatibility between living in God and disregarding his Word. No one can honestly claim loving God and living in him when one does not observe God’s will.

All too often, our Christian living suffers this incompatibility. We easily claim God being with us but we fail to show it in actual witnessing. How, for instance, can we claim to be followers of Jesus and at the same time be comfortably part of a culture of corruption that gnaws at every fibre of our social life like a silent cancer?

Today’s gospel then allows us to see the indispensability of knowing Jesus, the Word, and living by his precepts in order to enjoy the peace of God’s abiding presence. Without the Word becoming incarnate in our own lives, how then can we have God dwell in us?

Invoking the Holy Spirit. The Spirit works hand in hand with the Word. The Spirit, the Advocate, teaches and reminds us of everything Jesus, the Word, has told us (v. 26). The Spirit helps us understand God’s Word, shedding light on the salvific meaning of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. It is the Spirit that emboldens us to become fearless witnesses of Jesus. The Spirit empowers us to keep the word of God, hence, the Spirit ensures God’s abiding presence in us.

As a Christian, am I aware of this crucial role of the Spirit in my everyday witnessing? Do I invoke his empowering presence especially in moments when courage and conviction are called for in order to keep God’s word amidst a culture that jeers at the very core of the gospel values?

Left on our own devices, we always end up insecure and fearful about what we can do in terms of witnessing to the Word of God. My own feeling is that a great number of Christians have remained insecure as they honesty doubt their human capacity to keep the word of Jesus. They have forgotten to allow the Spirit to work through them, to embolden them, to assure them that, no matter what, it is God who is always in charge.

In the final analysis, God works with his two hands—the Word and the Spirit—in order to make sure that his love is effectively communicated and his Word kept that we may live in him and God may live in us now and forever.

We have just done our national and local elections, let us continue to invoke the power of the Holy Spirit to guide our nation into the path that God wills for us his people. We dream of a better nation, then let us listen to the Word in our consciences and allow the Spirit of God, the God who acts in history, to work through each of us and collectively, in our effort for nation-building. God does not leave us in the inadequacies of our own device. After all, He is the God of history; He acts in history, gently, mightily, with his two hands.

The Good Shepherd (4th Sunday Easter C)

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday.  Our gospel reading (Jn 10:27-30) describes our relationship with Jesus in terms of a mutual intimate personal knowledge between the sheep and the Good Shepherd: “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (v. 27).

There is a certain Amazonian tribe which has baffled researchers and anthropologists because of its unique trait—the members of the tribe don’t know how to count, neither can they learn it after being taught. They simply do not have the concept of numbers or numerals.  Intrigued by this information, a curious tourist once put this fact to a test by asking a member of the tribe who was tending his flock how many sheep he was taking care of. The shepherd just smiled, perplexed by the question; he couldn’t answer how many. The tourist continued asking: “If you cannot count your sheep, then how would you know that a sheep is lost?” The shepherd smiled again but this time he had an answer: “I just know because I know each of my sheep uniquely.  When the sheep with the thickest fur, for instance, is not around, I worry; I go and look for it.”

Sometimes when we are good at numbers, it is easier to deal with people as numerical data or as statistical variable.  And we stop right there and fail to have a personal knowledge of the people and hence, understanding of what they are going through in their lives.  

On the part of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, He knows his sheep beyond statistics, beyond the numerical description as “the 99 and the lost one.”   He knows his sheep even deeper than their external realities. He knows their hearts; he knows their joys and sorrows, their hopes and anxieties. Such knowledge is intimate and personal, one that inevitably forges a strong bond of love and loyalty. He knows us intimately because, as the Psalmist proclaims, “He made us, we belong to him, we are his people, the sheep of his flock” (Ps 99: 3). 

Only this depth of personal knowledge elicits on the part of the leader a totally selfless commitment for the well-being of the followers. So we hear Jesus declare, “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish. No one can take them out of my hand” (v. 28).

What a consoling statement from a leader! Jesus, the Good Shepherd gives us life. He takes care of us. He protects us. He does not allow anyone to snatch us from him. As the book of Isaiah has it: “Like a shepherd he feeds his flock; in his arms he gathers the lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and leading the ewes with care” (Is 40:11).

Have I experienced the Lord as the Good Shepherd who knows me uniquely, loves me and takes care of me, making sure that nothing takes me out of his hand?

On our part, to be Jesus’ sheep to whom He offers life, we need to know his voice and follow him.  Knowing Jesus, the Good Shepherd, means hearing his voice in the depths of our conscience. It means recognizing His guiding and enabling presence in our daily lives, making his voice alive as we read and meditate on His words in the Scripture. It also means listening to him through the teachings of his Church. When we do this, when we truly listen to the voice of the Lord and follow him, we experience just what the Lord, the Good Shepherd, desires for us—life, a beautiful life, a blessed life, even eternal life.

But there are times we insist on doing things our own way.  We ignore the Lord and his voice by our decisions and lifestyle that are contrary to his precepts.  These acts of freely ignoring the voice of the Shepherd may eventually lead us to our own suffering and brokenness.  Time and again, we hear real stories of people in pain. Many times their stories end with a painful question directed towards God: “Where are you? Why do you make me suffer? Don’t you truly love me and care for me?”  

We tend to blame others and God for the consequences of our foolishness and hardness of heart. Our gospel today reminds us that God is always faithful to his goodness, to his loving nature, to his desire to bless us and protect us because He is the Good Shepherd.  He knows each of us uniquely and cares for us for we belong to Him. He is always true and faithful to the covenant, to our loving relationship with him. But He does not coerce us to follow him.  He invites. We need to hear his voice and follow him freely. Like Him, we have to be faithful.

Do I listen to the voice of the Shepherd and allow Him to be my guide in life? Were there times when I ignored Him and went my own way? Have I ever blamed the Lord for the misfortunes I brought to myself?

On this Good Shepherd Sunday, we thank the Lord for loving us in a personal and intimate way and for caring for us as a shepherd tends his sheep.  The Lord is the Good Shepherd who desires that we may have life.  

All we need to do is to be faithful to Him, always listening to His voice that we may follow Him to where He leads us—the pasture where we find fullness of life.

Do You Love Me? (3rd Sunday Easter C)

Have you been seriously asked this question: “Do you love me?” When you are aware of the full implication of the commitment to love, this question is truly a daunting one.  Many find it a lot easier to be non-committal by responding, “perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.”

When I was making up my mind about getting ordained as a priest, I had to grapple with this question. And of course the question, in my particular context, is thrown by God.  I had to face the Lord in my prayer and give my courageous answer.  After all, the authenticity of following the Lord essentially rests on the love that binds one with him.  Today’s gospel episode (Jn 21:1-19) helped me arrive at a decisive affirmation of my vocation. Allow me to share my personal insights that emboldened me to say yes.  Two related insights: First, with the Risen Lord, there’s life; without Him, there’s emptiness.  Second, the Risen Lord fills up the abyss of our inadequacy in loving him.

A Life of Bounty.  Any sane person desires to live a bountiful life—a fruitful and meaningful life. We are all in search of this life. The gospel today reveals to us the secret path to such a life: It is only with the Lord’s direction that one can truly attain a fruitful life.

The gospel begins with the scene where Peter and those with him decided to go fishing— actually to go back to fishing, a life they had already left behind when they followed the Lord. Fishing was their expertise; they were good at that.  But that night, the whole night, they caught nothing. When it was already dawn, the Risen Lord was standing on the shore and directed them to cast their net over the right side of the boat. “So they cast it, and were not able to pull it in because of the number of fish” (v. 6).

This incident reminds all of Jesus’ disciples, starting from Peter himself, that we cannot boast of our expertise, skills, talents and know-how. These do not guarantee that we can be truly fruitful in what we do in life. A “large catch,” a bountiful and meaningful life, can be achieved only when we humbly submit our expertise to the Lord’s directions.  Apart from Him our abilities may be disoriented, our life fruitless.

I met a businessman, for instance, in Makati. Despite his seeming success in his trade, he admitted of his emptiness. Not only that, his intoxication with his success was leading him to destroy his family! His own brand of success gave him more occasions to cheat his wife and robbed him of his time to be with his children. Fortunately, before he totally destroyed what really mattered in his life he came to his senses: He could not continue to do it his own way lest he would certainly lose everything. 

Sometimes, it is good to hit the rock bottom of our folly because it shakes off our arrogance. And only in that posture of humility that we can listen to God’s directions and eventually enjoy a truly blessed bountiful life.

Do I allow the Risen Lord to give directions to my life? Or do I stubbornly and arrogantly insist on doing things my old way even after the Lord has shown me the way? 

Do You Love Me? Anyone who wants to follow the Lord has to face this question squarely. This is the question I had to face myself. Do I love the Lord enough to be his ordained priest? Do I love the Lord more than I love myself? More than I love the significant persons in life? More than his created things?

An honest evaluation of ourselves will most likely render us incapable of giving a categorical yes. We love the Lord, but we know full well that our human heart is fickle, forgetful, unfaithful, and many times coward. While it is a total dishonesty to say no, to say yes seems to be a form of arrogance.

Towards the end of today’s gospel episode, Jesus confronts Peter with this hard question: “Do you love me more than these?” Peter has to answer this three times! The same number of times he has denied the Lord just before the crucifixion! What a grilling moment this is for Peter! But this is a moment of grace too. The triple question of the Master is to allow Peter to undo his triple denial with a triple profession of love. Such is the Lord’s graciousness.

Peter’s profession of love is no longer arrogant. There is so much humility in his answer when he says “Yes Lord; YOU KNOW that I love you.” I love you as you know me and my imperfect heart.

I find so much consolation in this realization that the Lord knows our heart. He knows its inadequacies in loving him. Yet He finds ways for us to come to terms with every moment of our imperfection in loving him. He fills up the abyss of our inadequacy to love. Simply put, He enables our incompetent heart to love him!

It is this love—a graced love-- that any follower of Jesus will have to carry with him/her in the journey towards the path of discipleship.  “Feed my sheep” is Jesus’ charge to anyone who braves to embrace the challenge of loving him.

On this third Sunday of Easter, we are invited by the Lord to answer bravely but with humility his question, “Do you love me?” We may be well aware of our inadequacies in loving the Lord. This serves us well because it humbles us. But let us be equally aware of God’s enabling grace allowing us to love him. Like Peter may we then say, “Yes Lord; YOU KNOW that I love you.”  As we fulfill our charge to serve in whatever capacity we are called to, let God’s directions always be our cue; then, trust that we are in for a great catch.

Mercy Unlocks Hope (Divine Mercy)

Happy Divine Mercy Sunday! What a gift it is to be gathered today, especially in this Jubilee Year of Hope. We are celebrating a feast that flows straight from the heart of Jesus—a feast that tells us there’s no sin too big, no failure too deep, no heart too far gone for the mercy of God.

In the Gospel today, the disciples are in the upper room—hiding, afraid, unsure of what the future holds. That room might feel familiar to some of us. We all have our “upper room” moments: times of fear, doubt, or failure. But what happens in that room is incredible—Jesus walks in. Doors locked, hearts anxious—and still, He comes. He says, “Peace be with you.”

Let’s reflect together on how mercy unlocks hope—for the disciples, and for us today.

Mercy Enters Our Fear.
The disciples are behind locked doors. Fear has paralyzed them. Guilt has silenced them. But Jesus doesn’t knock—He walks straight in. That’s mercy. It doesn’t wait until we have it all figured out. Mercy moves first. It enters our fear, sits with us in our mess, and speaks peace into our storm.

How often do we try to keep the door closed—thinking we need to be better, more prayerful and more committed before God can meet us?

But Jesus comes anyway. He meets us right there—in the fear, in the doubt, in the shame—and He says, “Peace be with you.”

St. Faustina heard Jesus say: “Let the sinner not be afraid to approach Me. The flames of mercy are burning Me—clamoring to be spent.” (Diary 50) That’s our Savior. Burning with mercy, eager to draw near—not because we deserve it, but because He can’t help Himself. That’s love.

Mercy Sends Us on Mission. The next thing Jesus does is powerful. After offering peace, He breathes on them the Holy Spirit and says: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” He doesn’t just heal their hearts—He gives them a mission.

Mercy doesn’t stop at comforting us. It commissions us. We are not just forgiven; we are sent.
This is where the Jubilee Year of Hope comes alive. The world is aching for mercy—for kindness, for compassion, for people who carry peace into broken places. That’s us. We’re the ones sent. As St. Faustina wrote: “Proclaim that mercy is the greatest attribute of God. All the works of My hands are crowned with mercy.” (Diary 301).

We’re called to be living signs of that mercy. In our families, at work, with friends, even online—every encounter is an opportunity to offer what we’ve received.

Mercy Meets Our Wounded Faith. Now we come to Thomas. Poor Thomas gets labeled “the doubter,” but let’s be honest—he’s real. He’s been hurt, disappointed, maybe even angry. He says, “Unless I see the wounds… I won’t believe.” And what does Jesus do? He doesn’t lecture him. He doesn’t shame him. He invites him: “Put your finger here… touch my wounds.”

That’s mercy too. Mercy meets us even when our faith is shaky. When we’re confused, hurt, or distant. Jesus doesn’t avoid our wounds—He reveals His own. And His wounds are not erased. They’re still visible—but they are now sources of healing.

St. Faustina said it best:
“My Heart overflows with great mercy for souls... If only they could understand that I am the best of Fathers to them.” (Diary 367). So if you’ve been carrying doubts or questions—you're not alone. Thomas was a disciple too. And he ended up declaring the greatest act of faith in the Gospel: “My Lord and my God.” That’s what mercy can do.

As we look at the image of Divine Mercy today, those five simple words speak louder than anything: Jesus, I trust in You. That’s what today is all about. Mercy received. Hope restored. Trust renewed. And in this Jubilee Year of Hope, we remember what St. Faustina shared from the Lord:
“Mankind will not have peace until it turns with trust to My mercy” (Diary 300).
So today, whatever is behind the locked door of your heart—fear, guilt, doubt—let Jesus walk in. Let mercy meet you there. And then, be ready. Because He will send you out to carry that same mercy to others.
Because mercy… always unlocks hope.

Lolo Kiko: A Shepherd Close to our Hearts

We gather with heavy hearts yet grateful spirits as we remember the life and ministry of Pope Francis—a man who was not only the leader of the universal Church but who, to many Filipinos, became much more personal. We fondly called him “Lolo Kiko,” our beloved grandfather. In this time of worldwide mourning, I invite us to pause and reflect on the unique way he touched our lives, a legacy woven with mercy, humility, and a pastoral closeness that felt deeply like family.

For many, Pope Francis is remembered for his gentleness and simplicity. But for us here in the Philippines, he became something like family. I recall vividly his visit to Tacloban after Typhoon Yolanda—those days of overwhelming loss and heartbreak. He walked among the ruins, touched the suffering, and sat with our people in grief. It was there that a beautiful, tender bond was formed. We did not just see him as the pope; we saw him as a grandfather who carried our pain and offered hope. From that moment, many of us began calling him “Lolo Kiko,” a name full of warmth and trust—our gentle grandfather who never left us in our darkest hours.

Lolo Kiko’s love for us went beyond any official role. He embraced Filipino families and our youth with open arms and words full of encouragement. His call to the young to “be protagonists of your own history” (Address to youth, Manila, 2015) spoke to our hopes and dreams. And he knew well the heart of Filipino culture, where family is everything. His humble presence and warm smile made us feel he walked with us, urging each one—old and young—to place their trust confidently in God’s faithful love.

More than that, Pope Francis reminded us about the true mission of the Church. He often described it as a “field hospital after battle” (Evangelii Gaudium, 2013), a place not of judgment but of healing and comfort to the wounded. This powerful image echoes deeply in our context here in the Philippines, where so many face poverty and hardship daily. He urged us not to stay within the comfortable walls of the Church but to go out to the peripheries — the poor, the marginalized, the forgotten. “The Church’s very credibility is seen in how she shows merciful and compassionate love... to the poorest, the weakest, the least important” (Evangelii Gaudium, 2013). Just like our Filipino spirit of bayanihan, the Church is called to journey with others, to heal, and to uplift.

At the very center of Lolo Kiko’s teaching was mercy — God’s infinite mercy that never tires of reaching out. He spoke beautifully, “Mercy is the bridge that connects God and man, opening our hearts to the hope of being loved forever despite our sins” (Misericordiae Vultus, 2015). That message touched a chord among us Filipinos, for mercy and forgiveness are at the heart of our healing as families and communities. Through his witness, many found strength to reconcile and to hope again.

He also inspired us to care more deeply for our common home. His encyclical Laudato Si’ (2015) was a heartfelt invitation to protect the environment—a call profoundly meaningful to our archipelago, so often battered by storms and calamities. “We need to strengthen the conviction that we are one single human family” (Laudato Si’, 2015). If we truly see ourselves as one family, protecting our earth becomes an act of faith and love.

In today's societies too often fractured by distrust and division, Pope Francis was tireless in calling for peace and dialogue. His words, “Dialogue is the path to peace” (Address to leaders of various religions, 2014), remind us especially here in Mindanao and throughout our country that peace begins by listening and building bridges. Let us be inspired to be instruments of that peace in our families, communities, and nation.

Finally, we recall Lolo Kiko’s humility and his revolutionary call for synodality — the Church as a journeying community, walking and listening together. He reminded us that Synodality means walking together, listening to each other, and discerning the Holy Spirit’s guidance." This harmonizes perfectly with our Filipino value of pakikipagkapwa-tao, recognizing our shared dignity and responsibility. This kind of Church is alive, vibrant, and ready to embrace the future with hope.

My dear brothers and sisters, as we remember our beloved Lolo Kiko, let us honor him not only with our tears but with the way we live. May we continue his legacy of mercy, humble service, and joyful witness. May the Filipino Church become a field hospital for those in need, a family that embraces its youth with hope, and a community that walks together  in faith, hope, and love.

Let us pray for the eternal rest of Pope Francis and for the grace to imitate his humble, loving example. May his life always remind us that the Church is built not on power, but on the tender heart as that of a grandfather who loves. Amen.

 

Easter People, Pilgrims of Hope (Easter Vigil C)

On the eve of Christmas in 2022, a 34-year-old mother and her 3-year-old child were swept away by a mighty flood in Misamis Occidental. Their house was carried by the raging waters into the vast sea. For three long days, they drifted helplessly, clinging to broken pieces of wood as their fragile raft repeatedly gave way.

I watched her interview on TV, and I was deeply moved by the courage she showed—a fierce determination not only to survive but to protect her young child. Despite the overwhelming darkness and uncertainty surrounding them, she never lost hope. With faith in God’s providence, she scavenged for anything they could eat—fruits, fish—and when her child was thirsty, she reached out and found a coconut to quench that thirst.

Her story is a powerful testament to hope’s strength—the hope that carries us through the darkest, most desperate moments. Like this mother, we too can cling to the lifeline that Christ offers, journeying from the stormy seas of despair into the light of safety, new life, and joy.

That mother’s undying hope—holding on through the darkest night—mirrors the journey we celebrate this Easter Vigil. Tonight, we gather in darkness, yet we are not afraid, for the light of the Paschal Candle pierces the shadows. Christ, our hope, has risen! We celebrate the triumph of life over death, light over darkness, and hope over despair. In this Jubilee Year, the Church calls us to be "Pilgrims of Hope," journeying with faith toward the fullness of God’s promises.

Hope, Our Journey from Darkness to Light. The Gospel (Luke 24:1-12) shows us this journey beautifully. The women visit Jesus’ tomb at dawn, weighed down by grief and loss. But they find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. The angels ask, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" (Lk 24:5). 

This is the heart of Christian hope: a pilgrimage from the darkness of despair to the radiant light of the resurrection. The Easter Vigil liturgy reflects this movement—from the blessing of fire, the lighting of the Paschal Candle, to the joyful proclamation of Christ’s victory. Like the women, we are called to step out of darkness—whether it is fear, doubt, grief, or sin—and into the new light of Christ’s risen life.

Where in my life am I still walking through darkness—fear, doubt, sorrow?  How can I open my heart, like the women, to let the light of Christ transform that darkness into joy?

Hope, Our Journey from Slavery to Freedom. The Easter Vigil readings powerfully recall Israel’s liberation from slavery in Egypt—a journey from oppression to freedom (Exodus 14:15-15:1). The miraculous crossing of the Red Sea reveals God’s saving power, leading His people from bondage into the Promised Land. This event is the “mother of all our hopes” in salvation history, a vivid image of freedom conquered by God’s intervention.

In Christ, the resurrection is the ultimate breaking of chains—the defeat of sin and death itself. Just as the Israelites were freed from physical slavery, we are set free from the spiritual slavery of sin through Christ’s Paschal Mystery. The empty tomb proclaims that no power can hold us captive; the resurrection confirms that the chains of sin are broken.

In Our Lives, the “slavery of sin” can trap us in despair, guilt, and brokenness, but Christ’s resurrection offers a new path to freedom. What forms of slavery—fear, addiction, resentment—hold me captive today? How can I embrace the freedom Christ won for me through his resurrection? In what ways can I live as a freed person, sharing hope with those still in bondage?

Hope, a Journey from Death to Life. The Epistle from Romans (6:3-11) reveals the deeper meaning of Easter hope: Baptism. Paul tells us, "We were buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead, we too might walk in newness of life" (Rom 6:4).  

Tonight, as we celebrate the baptism of new members into the Church, we remember that baptism is our own personal journey from death to life. It is not merely a ritual, but the powerful moment when sin dies and grace is born in us. The empty tomb is not just an event in history; it is the promise of new and eternal life for each of us.

How does my baptism shape the way I live and respond to life’s challenges?  How can I more faithfully live as a witness to the resurrection hope I have received?

The Easter Vigil calls us to be Pilgrims of Hope. Like the women at the tomb and Peter running to see, we are invited to journey toward the light, freedom, and new life of the resurrection. In this Jubilee Year, may we carry this hope into the world, sharing the light for those still walking in darkness.  

As we renew our baptismal promises tonight, let us pray: Lord, make us bearers of Your hope in every step of our pilgrimage. May we run joyfully to share the Good News: Christ is risen! Alleluia!