Reflection for February 23, 2025

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

1 Samuel 26:2, 7-9, 12-13, 22-23 | Psalm 103:1-2, 3-4, 8, 10, 12-13 | 1 Corinthians 15:45-49 | Luke 6:27-38

After this reflection, we’ll be praying the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed, which affirms the four marks of the true Church: One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic. But if these are the marks of the Church, what about its members? What truly makes someone a Catholic? Is it being pro-life and against divorce? Attending Latin Mass or creative liturgies? Joining prayer meetings and Bible studies? Praying 2,000 Hail Mary’s or doing novena marathons? Wearing uniforms and collecting parish group memberships?  Does being close friends with the parish priest make you a better Catholic than others? What defines a real Catholic? This weekend’s readings—from the prophet Samuel, St. Paul, and the Gospel of Luke—give us the answer: loving our enemies. A true Catholic embraces everyone, even those they disagree with or struggle to get along with. Let’s reflect on these readings and ask for the grace to love and forgive as Christ did.

Benito, a hermit, often meditated by Manguao Lake in northern Palawan. One morning, after praying, he noticed an Asian Black Forest Scorpion struggling in the water. It had drifted into tangled roots, trapping itself further as it thrashed. Seeing this, Benito reached out to help, but the scorpion stung him. Despite the pain, he tried again, only to be stung repeatedly, leaving his hands bloody. A passerby, watching in disbelief, shouted, “What’s wrong with you, fool! Do you want to kill yourself to save that ugly thing?” Benito looked at him and replied, “Because it is the nature of the scorpion to sting, why should I deny my own human nature to save it?”

Showing kindness to those who hurt us isn’t a sign of weakness—it reflects who we truly are as God’s children. In today’s first reading, David had the perfect chance to get back at King Saul, who was after his life. But instead of seeking revenge, he chose mercy, valuing the sacredness of life and trusting in God’s justice. In the same way, we’re called to rise above anger and respond with goodness. This doesn’t mean ignoring wrongdoing but choosing a better way—one that turns hostility into respect and hatred into peace. St. Pope John Paul II reminds us that while our fallen nature inclines us toward self-preservation and revenge, our true, God-given nature calls us to love and forgive. As he says, "Forgiveness is above all a personal choice, a decision of the heart to go against the natural instinct to pay back evil with evil."

One day, a man took his large dog out on a boat, intending to drown it. He managed to throw the dog into the river, but the animal kept trying to climb back in. As the man tried to push it away, he lost his balance and fell overboard. Witnesses say he would have drowned if the same dog hadn’t grabbed his coat and pulled him to shore. When others try to harm you, respond with kindness. Don’t fight evil with evil—overcome it with good.

As humans, we carry both Adam’s fallen nature and Christ’s divine nature. Our natural instincts—selfishness, resentment, and the urge to get even—come from Adam. But through Christ, the new Adam, we receive the grace to rise above these weaknesses and reflect His love and mercy. We cannot do it alone by ourselves, we need the grace of God to be loving and forgiving like Him. Loving our enemies and showing kindness to those who hurt us isn’t easy because it goes against our instincts. Yet, as St. Paul reminds us in his second letter to the Corinthians, just as we bear Adam’s image, we are also called to reflect Christ’s. This means we’re not stuck in our brokenness but are empowered by grace to choose forgiveness, love, and kindness. Khalil Gibran puts it beautifully: true greatness is a heart that both bleeds with compassion and endures with patience.

For ten years, a woman regularly visited a young prisoner, teaching him to read and write. When he was released, she helped him find a job and rebuild his life. Once he was back on track, she quietly stepped away. Before she left, the young man asked why she had done so much for him. She looked at him and said, “Do you remember the man you killed just to get money for drugs? He was my son. I did all this for you so that when you walked free, you wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I wanted to spare another mother the pain I’ve had to endure.”

Jesus’ command to love our enemies, as we hear in today’s Gospel, is one of the hardest to follow because it goes against our instincts. It’s easy to love those who are good to us, but loving those who hurt or hate us feels unnatural. As Robert Frost put it, we tend to “love what is lovable and hate what is hateable.” Yet, Jesus calls us to break this cycle of hate and retaliation. He sets a higher standard—one that mirrors God’s mercy and love. The love Jesus speaks of is agape—a selfless love that seeks the good of others, even when they don’t deserve it. This doesn’t mean tolerating wrongdoing or allowing mistreatment, but rather choosing love over vengeance and forgiveness over resentment. Loving our enemies means treating them with kindness, praying for them, and hoping for their conversion rather than their downfall. By doing so, we reflect God’s mercy, which extends even to the ungrateful and the wicked. Before His death, Jesus prayed for those who crucified Him, showing the depth of the mercy we are called to imitate. This radical love has the power to heal both the hurt and the offender, transforming hearts in the process.

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