Reflection for September 28, 2025

​Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time (C)

Amos 6:1a, 4-7 | Psalm 146:7, 8-9, 9-10 | 1 Timothy 6:11-16 | Luke 16:19-31

​I trust we all survived Super Typhoon Opong—though some of us probably complained more about the WiFi going down than the actual floodwaters. Let’s be honest, there are certain Scriptures we’d rather skip because they poke at our comfort zones. But as Venerable Fulton Sheen once said, “Sometimes the only way to get into people’s hearts is to break them.” Well, friends, brace yourselves—today’s readings for the Twenty-sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time are divine wrecking balls. If you feel a sting in your chest while we go through this reflection, congratulations! That means you still have a pulse and a heart that God can work with. But if you sit through all this unmoved, untouched, and unbothered—well, maybe it’s time to check: did we misplace our hearts, or have they already flatlined?

​Sophia came rushing through the door, her face glowing with joy. “Mom, I got promoted! And with it comes a thirty percent raise!” she exclaimed. “Now I can finally buy those shoes I’ve been wanting, taste authentic ramen, maybe even treat us to a weekend staycation!” Her mother, Elena, smiled tenderly but spoke with calm wisdom: “Sophia, will you come with me to church today? Afterward, I’d like to bring groceries to Mrs. Cruz, our neighbor. She’s still recovering from her accident. As a single mother, she alone provides for her three children, but right now she cannot work.” Sophia paused, a little disappointed. “But Mom, wouldn’t you rather spend the weekend with me instead? We could stay at a nice hotel, enjoy ramen, and watch a movie together.” Elena gently took her daughter’s hand and said, “Sundays are for family, yes—but above all, they are for thanking God for the blessings we’ve received. And remember, Sophia, when your paycheck grows, don’t raise your standard of living. Raise your standard of giving.”

In our first reading, the prophet Amos raises a piercing warning. He condemns the rich and powerful who live in comfort and luxury while turning a blind eye to the suffering around them. Because of their pride and selfishness, Amos declares, they will be the first to fall into exile. His message is not only for the people of his time—it thunders into our world today. Life is not meant to be measured by comfort, pleasure, or worldly success—yet how easily we are drawn to material gain, how quickly we chase satisfaction, forgetting that these things vanish like smoke. Amos cries out to us: lift your eyes to what endures! For what good is wealth if our hearts grow cold to the cries of the needy? What good is success if, in the process, we neglect our souls before God? To live with eternity in mind is to make a radical choice: compassion instead of selfishness, generosity instead of excess, faithfulness instead of indifference. The Church Fathers were uncompromising on this point. St. Basil the Great shakes us awake with these words: “The bread you hoard is not yours, it belongs to the hungry. The coat that hangs unused in your closet belongs to the one shivering in the cold. The shoes gathering dust beneath your bed belong to the one who walks barefoot. The silver you keep hidden belongs to the one in desperate need. Whatever you withhold from others is not truly yours to keep; in clinging to your excess, you are not merely neglecting charity—you are stealing from the poor what rightfully belongs to them.” St. John Chrysostom echoes this truth, saying: “If we don’t share what we have with the poor, it’s like we’re stealing from them. What we own is not just ours, it also belongs to them.” My friends, these words cannot be ignored—they demand a response. The choices we make here will echo into eternity. Let us not live only for ourselves but for God and for others, so that when our time comes, we may enter joyfully into the fullness of His promise.
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There is a story told of a strange contest between Jesus and Satan: to build a highway, one leading to heaven, the other to hell. Satan finished first, proudly unveiling a six-lane expressway paved in pride, greed, and corruption. He mocked, “Where is your highway, Jesus? I thought you were the King of kings!” With sadness, Jesus replied, “I could not find contractors and engineers willing to build it.” Satan sneered, “Of course not, all the best are with me—they know how to cut corners, overprice, and build projects that collapse after one storm.”

In his first letter to Timothy, Paul does not speak lightly—he commands us to pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness. These are not optional virtues; they are the very weapons that prepare us for eternal life. True wealth, Paul reminds us, is not found in possessions, titles, or influence. It is found in a heart rooted firmly in the kingdom of God. The world glorifies money and power, yet Paul directs our eyes to something far greater—integrity, endurance, and love. What the world mocks as weakness—gentleness, patience, humility—is revealed as true strength when anchored in Christ. To fight the good fight of faith means to stop chasing shadows and to fix our gaze on eternal rewards rather than the fleeting gains of this world. We must always remember that we have a God to serve, a soul to save, a neighbor to love, sins to avoid, hell to escape, and heaven to attain. Every choice we make echoes in eternity. Will we live for what fades, or for what lasts forever? St. Alphonsus Liguori warns us with words that cut straight to the heart: “The greatest mistake is to lose one’s soul, for without the soul, everything else is lost.” Let us not trade away the eternal for the temporary—let us fight with faith, live with love, and endure with hope so that when the race is finished, our soul may rejoice forever in the victory of Christ.

Picture this: a wealthy lawmaker standing proudly at the site of his new mansion in Bicol, bragging to anyone within earshot. “My Bugatti? Four hundred million pesos. My Patek Philippe? Fifty million. My Armani suit and Gucci shoes? Another five million.” Beside him was a poor laborer. He owned no car, only a jeepney ride to work. He wore no watch, relying on the kindness of others to tell him the time so he wouldn’t be late and lose pay. He had no designer clothes, only worn garments—but his heart was rich with love for the family waiting for him at home. The lawmaker sneered, pointing him out to the foreman. “This worker of yours is late again! How do you expect my mansion to be finished on time? Deduct the lost minutes from his pay!” “Yes, boss,” the foreman replied. Then suddenly, Super Typhoon Opong struck. Heavy rains poured and the site quickly flooded. The laborer, desperate to reach his loved ones, plunged into the waters and fought to survive. The rich man, however, stood paralyzed—his car worthless in the flood, his suit too expensive to soak, his shoes too costly to ruin. He clung to his possessions instead of saving his life. And soon his watch stopped ticking—not because it broke, but because his life had ended.

Jesus tells us of two men: the poor man Lazarus, and the rich man whom St. Jerome, in the Latin Vulgate, identifies as Dives. Dives feasted every day, while Lazarus starved at his gate. In death, the tables turned—Lazarus was carried into eternal comfort, while Dives was swallowed by torment. The warning is sharp: wealth without mercy is a path to ruin. Death is the great equalizer. Whether you ride a Bugatti or a jeepney, wear designer clothes or simple ones, the grave awaits us all. We cannot take riches with us. What remains is how we lived—our faith, our love, and the compassion we showed to others. Look at St. Lorenzo Ruiz, our very own Filipino saint—the first from our land. He was no different from us: a husband, a father, an ordinary man who lived an ordinary life. But when his faith was tested, he chose God over comfort, declaring, “If I had a thousand lives, I would offer them all to God.” He reminds us that holiness is not beyond reach. Lazarus teaches us the hope of endurance. Lorenzo teaches us the courage of sacrifice. And both remind us: our true home is not here but in heaven. The question is—when our time comes, will we be found clinging to comforts like Dives, or offering our lives like Lorenzo?

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