​Isaiah 25:6-10A | Psalm 23:1-3A, 3B-4, 5, 6 | Philippians 4:12-14, 19-20 | Matthew 22:1-14 or 22:1-10

​Through the concerted efforts of Isaiah, Paul and Matthew, we are all invited on this Twenty-eighth Sunday in Ordinary Time to look forward to the glorious wedding feast where we, the Bride of Christ, His Church — will meet our Groom, Jesus.

​The Magbanuas were invited to a sumptuous meal at the Lopez home. Mrs. Lopez was widely known for her amazing contributions to church potlucks. Everyone was seated around the table as the food was being served. As usual, it was a feast for the eyes, the nose, and the palate. Mr. Magbanua's youngest son, Gabriel, received his plate he started eating straight away. ‘Gabriel, wait until we say grace,’ insisted his embarrassed father. ‘I don’t have to,’ the five year old replied. ‘Of course you do, Gabriel,’ his mother insisted in a strong and assertive manner. ‘We always say a prayer before eating at our house.’ ‘That’s at our house,’ Gabriel explained, ‘but this is Mrs. Lopez's house, and she knows how to cook.’

One of my favorite images of the last day is the banquet that God will prepare on Zion, His holy mountain. The Prophet Isaiah wanted his people to understand that the end of their exile in Babylon should be celebrated as a victory won for them by God. This new era of peace and restoration was God’s gift of victory to Israel. The joy of this victory and the peace that followed inspired renewed hope for the future, when humanity’s greatest enemy—death—would also be conquered by God. Today, we recognize the Holy Eucharist as a realization of Isaiah’s vision and a foretaste of the eternal victory banquet to come, when all the blessed will be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven. God Himself will wipe away every tear, and death and mourning shall be no more, for the old order will have passed away (Revelation 19:9; 21:4).

One day, the jail warden asked Carmencita, “Why are you here?” With tears in her eyes, she replied, “Sir, I trusted a friend who made me a co-maker of a loan. She ran away, and I was left carrying the burden. Now I’m facing hearings, while my three children are at home under my sister’s care.” The warden asked, “How do you manage to keep going?” Carmencita held up a hand-painted jar and said, “Sir, I cry sometimes, especially when I miss my children. But I refuse to lose hope. I paint these pots and jars so I can earn honestly and help send my children to school. I believe that one day, I will clear my name and embrace them again.” Then she smiled through her tears. “Until that day comes, I will hold on. Christ gives me strength. I may be behind bars today, but my hope is still free. Better days are coming, because the God who sustains me today will carry me through tomorrow.”

As we continue reading the Apostle Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians, we hear him proclaim, “I can do all things in him who strengthens me.” Through his own experience, Paul demonstrates that followers of Jesus must be prepared to face both good times and bad times. He uses his present circumstances as an example. Although he is in prison, he deeply appreciates the unwavering support of his dear friends in Philippi, who continue to stand by him. Paul testifies that his relationship with Christ sustains and strengthens him, enabling him to endure every circumstance, whether in abundance or in need, in times of plenty or in times of hunger.

One day, the childless Perez couple found a young boy living on the streets. They took him in, fed him, bathed him, dressed him in comfortable clothes, and sent him to school. Years later, that little boy graduated and became a lawyer. During a job interview at a law firm, he was asked, “Why did you become a lawyer?” He smiled and answered, “I was once an orphan living on the streets. A lawyer couple took me in, raised me, and gave me a future. I thought that becoming a lawyer myself would be a beautiful way to honor them. I wanted my life to show that their kindness was never wasted.” You see, that boy honored his benefactors not merely by saying thank you, but by living with dignity and making good use of the goodness they had shown him. Then he added, “They welcomed me into their family, so I have to think, speak, and act like I’m part of the family!”

Our Gospel belongs to the final stage of Jesus’ public ministry. He is in Jerusalem, and the atmosphere is tense. The chief priests and elders of the people continue to reject His invitation to conversion, healing, and freedom through Him. Yet Jesus does not give up. In the first part of the parable, He continues to call them through the image of a wedding feast. The king represents God, and his son represents Jesus. The servants represent the prophets who call people to remain in communion with God. However, the invited guests refuse to attend. They are too preoccupied with their own affairs to accept the invitation, and some even respond with hostility toward the messengers. As the story unfolds, the king extends the invitation to everyone his servants can find, both good and bad. This recalls Jesus’ earlier declaration that the Kingdom of God would be taken away from the unfaithful leaders and given to others, including tax collectors and prostitutes, who were more willing to respond to His call. Those found in the streets welcome the invitation, recognizing their need and hunger for what the king offers.

We understand the importance of dressing appropriately for different occasions. It can be embarrassing to arrive at an event improperly dressed. The second part of the parable, however, challenges us to look beyond our outward appearance. Every guest at the banquet had been given a wedding garment by the king. Wearing it was a sign of respect for the host and acceptance of the invitation. Yet one man appeared in his ordinary, soiled working clothes, refusing to make the necessary preparation. He rejected the garment graciously provided for him and, in doing so, dishonored his host.

The lesson is clear: we cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven without being prepared to respond to God's grace. In biblical language, changing one's garment symbolizes a change in one's way of life—a genuine conversion (Romans 13:14; Galatians 3:27; Ephesians 4:20–24). We are called to put on the “wedding garment” and persevere in the grace and dignity we received at Baptism. Ultimately, the finest garment we can wear is the new life God offers us in Christ. The feast is ready. The food is laid out on the banquet table, the wine is poured, and the host invites us to come and take our place. God's invitation is open to all, but accepting it calls for a response. Those invited to His Kingdom must demonstrate their willingness through repentance, faith, and good works. Are we ready? Are we properly dressed? Christian living demands a fundamental transformation—a new garment for a new life in Christ. 

<enrique,ofs>

Isaiah 5:1-7 | Psalm 80:9, 12, 13-14, 15-16, 19-20 | Philippians 4:6-9 | Matthew 21:33-43

​On this Twenty-Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, you and I are confronted with some important questions: How are we carrying out the responsibilities God has entrusted to each of us? Are we bearing the fruits of loving and serving God and one another—the fruits He expects from us? Or are we simply a bunch of useless, sour grapes?

​Reginald and Grace had been married for five years when they had one of those legendary husband-and-wife arguments. Neither wanted to apologize, so they decided to give each other the silent treatment. Two days into their “peaceful” marriage, Reginald suddenly realized he needed Grace’s help. He had a business meeting in Cebu and had to catch an early flight. He needed to be up at 5:00 AM. But there was one problem: they weren’t speaking! So, refusing to be the first one to break the silence, Reginald wrote on a piece of paper: “Grace, please wake me up at 5:00 AM.” The next morning, Reginald woke up, looked at the clock, and nearly fainted. It was 11:00 AM. His flight was long gone! Furious, he was ready to confront Grace. But then he noticed a note beside his bed. It read: “Reginald, it’s 5:00 AM Wake up!” Apparently, the silent treatment came with a very efficient alarm clock!

Serving in the second half of the eighth century, Isaiah—whose name means “The Lord saves”—spoke to a people struggling with both sin and political uncertainty. They wondered, “Why does God seem to be abandoning us?” In today’s First Reading, Isaiah answers through the beautiful song of the vineyard. He pictures God as a loving vineyard owner who carefully planted, protected, and nurtured his vineyard. The vineyard represents Israel and Judah, the two kingdoms of God’s chosen people. Naturally, God expected good fruit from something He had cared for so lovingly. But instead, the vineyard produced only “sour grapes.” Isaiah then challenges the people to judge for themselves. The message is clear: God has given us so much, and He expects something in return—not perfection, but good fruit. The question is: What kind of fruit are we producing?

Lilia Perez runs KAPATIRAN, a home for abandoned elderly people in Imus City. During the uncertainty of the COVID-19 pandemic, there was one Saturday morning when the shelter had very little food left. Still, Lilia gathered the lolas, lolos, and staff around the table. With faith, they prayed and thanked God for His provision—even though the table was almost empty. Then came a knock at the door. A man stood outside and said that he felt God was leading him to bring three sacks of rice to the shelter. Before long, another neighbor arrived with food and groceries as a birthday offering. Then Lilia noticed something else: the vegetables in their own garden had grown abundantly and were ready for harvest. Sometimes, gratitude helps us see that God’s blessings were already growing around us.

I think we see this same message in the life of St. Paul in today’s Second Reading. In his Letter to the Philippians, Paul shares something we all long for: true peace. Who doesn’t want peace of mind—to enjoy our family, friends, work, church, hobbies, and simply life itself without being constantly weighed down by worries? But when life becomes difficult, it is easy to become frustrated, bitter, or even angry with God. The problems around us can make us wonder, “Lord, why aren’t You doing something?” Paul understood these struggles very well. Yet he points us toward a different response: bring everything to God and remain thankful. And Paul practiced what he preached. He found peace even while in prison. Gratitude changed his perspective. When we place our worries in God’s hands and learn to give thanks, we begin to experience a peace that goes beyond our understanding—a peace rooted in knowing that God loves us and remains with us.

When Paracale, Camarines Norte was being settled, there was a large, dirt-covered stone sticking out in the middle of a trail. Carabao carts broke against it, and people stumbled over it. Finally, someone dug it up and threw it into a nearby river. Ironically, the same stone that people rejected became a stepping-stone for those crossing the river. Years later, another settler moved it again, this time using it merely as a doorstop. For three generations, people saw the stone but never recognized its worth. To some, it was a stumbling block; to others, a stepping-stone; to another, simply a useless piece of rock. Then the grandson, a geology student, examined it and discovered something astonishing: hidden beneath the dirt was the largest pure gold nugget ever found in Paracale. What people rejected as worthless was precious all along. Sometimes, the greatest treasures are hidden in what we are quickest to dismiss.

In today’s Gospel, Matthew, like Isaiah, uses the image of a vineyard to deliver a strong message to the chief priests and elders. This time, Jesus tells the story of tenants entrusted with a vineyard. The landowner had done everything—he planted it, protected it, and prepared it to produce fruit. Then he entrusted it to the farmers. But the farmers forgot that the vineyard was never really theirs. They wanted to keep everything for themselves. When the owner sent his servants to collect the harvest, they abused and even killed them. Finally, the owner sent his son, hoping they would respect him. But they killed him too. Yet God’s patience is extraordinary. Even when people reject Him, His plan continues. The Kingdom is opened to a new people—people who welcome the Son and bear good fruit. And that challenges you and me. The moment we start treating God’s vineyard as our own property, we begin to destroy it. Everything we have is entrusted to us. And amazingly, even after all our failures, God continues to believe in us. He still expects us to bear fruit.

<enrique,ofs>

Ezekiel 18:25-28 | Psalm 25:4-5, 6-7, 8-9 | Philippians 2:1-11 OR 2:1-5 | Matthew 21:28-32

​This Twenty-Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time reminds us that authentic faith is not measured by what we say, how we appear, or what we have done in the past, but by how we live today. God invites us to let go of the past, turn back to Him when we fail, and show our faith through humble obedience and concrete action.

​On their diamond wedding anniversary, Lola Merang was asked to reveal the secret behind her 60 years of happy marriage to Lolo Domeng. With a knowing smile, she said, “On our wedding day, I decided to choose ten of my husband’s faults that I would simply overlook—for the sake of our marriage.” A guest became curious. “Wow, Lola! What were those ten faults?” Lola Merang laughed. “Honestly, I never got around to writing them down.” Everyone looked confused. “So how did that work?” another guest asked. Lola smiled and said, “Whenever Lolo did something that made me extremely angry, I would just take a deep breath and tell myself…” “Lucky for him, that’s one of the ten!” And just like that, 60 years of marriage became a masterclass in forgiveness—and creative accounting! 

We’ve all done it. Caught up in a relationship fight and feeling like we’re losing, we bring up another mistake our partner made in the past. But none of us can change what has already happened. Bringing up old disagreements only makes the other person feel trapped and hopeless. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is let the past stay in the past and deal with the issue in front of us. This is also the message we hear in today’s first reading from Ezekiel, written during the sixth century B.C.E. for Jews living in exile after Babylon conquered Jerusalem. Ezekiel reminded them that God does not define people by their past. Even when they sinned, God was ready to welcome them back when they repented. What matters is the new life they choose to live. In God’s eyes, repentance can open the door to a fresh start.

Ivan, 9, was sitting quietly in church when he suddenly leaned over and asked his father, Marco, “Daddy, what is a Christian?” Marco smiled and answered, “A Christian is someone who loves and obeys God. He loves his friends, neighbors, and even his enemies. He prays often, is kind, gentle, forgiving, and holy. He cares more about getting to heaven than becoming rich here on earth. That’s what a true Christian is, son.” Ivan was silent for a moment, thinking deeply. Then he looked at his dad and asked, “Daddy… have I ever actually seen one?” Marco froze. He slowly looked around the church. Suddenly, the homily felt very personal. Sometimes children don’t need a theology degree to ask the question that hits us right between the eyes!

What makes someone an authentic Christian? Whether we use the longer or shorter reading, St. Paul’s Letter to the Philippians gives us a clear picture of what authentic Christian life and community should look like. At its heart, a Christian is someone who consciously tries to model his or her life after Christ. In the same way, a Christian community is not simply a group of people who gather together, but a people united by the Holy Spirit and shaped by Christ’s example. For Paul, the ultimate model of Christian behavior is Jesus, the obedient Son. His humility, obedience, selflessness, and willingness to serve show us what it really means to follow Him. Being a Christian, therefore, is not just about calling ourselves Christian. It is about allowing Christ’s life to become the pattern for our own.

A soap manufacturer and a priest were walking down a busy city street when the soap man suddenly said, “Father, I have to ask you something. You’ve been preaching the Gospel for years, but look around! There’s still so much wickedness in the world. Seems like the Gospel isn’t working very well!” The priest said nothing. A few minutes later, they passed a little boy happily making mud pies in a filthy gutter. The priest pointed at him and said, “You know, I’m beginning to think your soap isn’t working either. Look at all this dirt—and look at that dirty child!” The soap manufacturer quickly replied, “Oh, Father! Soap only works when people actually use it!” The priest smiled and said, “Exactly! The Gospel works the same way. It has to be applied, not merely preached.” The soap man went quiet. For once, the priest had managed to give him a clean argument! 

What makes someone a true Israelite? That is the question behind today’s Gospel. Jesus told the parable of the two sons in response to the chief priests and elders who questioned His authority. They knew the Law and appeared religious, but their hearts were closed to Jesus and His message. The two sons represent two different responses to God. The first said no but eventually obeyed. The second said yes but never followed through. Jesus was making a powerful point: God is not impressed by beautiful words without corresponding actions. That is why Jesus said that tax collectors and sinners who believed John the Baptist and changed their ways were entering the Kingdom of God before those who refused to believe. Their repentance became visible through their actions. The parable remains a challenge for all believers today. Faith is not simply knowing what is right. It is having the humility to keep learning, repenting, and doing what God asks. As St. Pio reminds us, the road to holiness is long—as long as our lifetime.

<enrique,ofs>

​On this Twenty-Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, the prophet Isaiah reminds us that God is always ready to show us His grace. St. Paul encourages us to make Christ the center of our lives, while our Lord, in today’s Gospel from Matthew, continually invites us to labor in His vineyard and take part in His work.

​I remember when we used to harvest sweet potatoes in our yard in Caloocan. Mommy would sit all three of us down, Daddy included, with trays and paring knives until the mountain of sweet potatoes became neat slices ready for the skillet. She never kept track of how much each of us accomplished. Our youngest probably caused more trouble than help—there was more peel wasted, some pieces were uneven, and there were even a few cut fingers. Still, when the work was finished, everyone received the same reward: crispy and delicious sweet potato fries! Someone might say that it was unfair because my eldest sibling and I did more of the washing, peeling, slicing, and arranging. But I never remember anyone complaining. We understood that our youngest simply needed more time to learn. That is how families work. A family does not operate like a courtroom. Mommy simply wanted all her children to enjoy the food she lovingly prepared. In the same way, God wants all His children to share in His goodness.

Isaiah 55 presents a beautiful invitation to a messianic banquet where everyone is welcome. The prophet calls the people to return to God after their exile, even though they had been unfaithful and turned to idols. Their fear and shame made them hesitant to come back. Yet God assures them, “Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near” (Isa 55:6). God’s thoughts and ways are far beyond human understanding, “as high as the heavens are above the earth” (Isa 55:9). Unlike human beings, who can easily act out of jealousy, envy, strict justice, or even vengeance, God acts with love, mercy, and compassion. He patiently waits for His children to be transformed into the image of His Son. This transformation does not happen overnight, but God never gives up on us. Therefore, we should never underestimate His mercy or despair of His love.

Cardo was born in Alua, San Isidro, Nueva Ecija, with a severe facial deformity. Because of this, he grew up feeling alone and isolated. When he reached adulthood, he decided to leave his hometown and move to Manila, hoping to start a new life. Along the way, he discovered a beautiful mask that perfectly fit his face and made him look handsome. At first, wearing it felt uncomfortable, and he was afraid that people would eventually discover who he really was. Still, he kept wearing the mask every day. In his new hometown, Cardo made friends and eventually fell in love. But one day, Mina, a wicked woman from his past, came to town and discovered his secret. In front of his friends and fiancée, she forced him to remove his mask. When Cardo finally removed it, everyone was surprised. Instead of revealing his old face, the mask had transformed him. His face had slowly conformed to the mask he had worn every day.

St. Paul, writing while imprisoned, shares this radical way of looking at life in our second reading from the Letter to the Philippians. He says, “Christ will be magnified in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me life is Christ, and death is gain” (Phil 1:20–21). For Paul, life is not about himself; it is all about Christ. His words remind us that being a Christian means learning to imitate Christ every day. Becoming like Christ can be compared to Cardo’s story. When we put on Christ, our lives slowly begin to resemble Him. At first, it may feel awkward or even unnatural, and we might ask ourselves, “Who am I kidding?” But we simply keep putting on Christ each day—by being filled with the Spirit, listening to His Word, and choosing to obey Him. Little by little, our thoughts, words, and actions begin to look more like Christ.

There is something funny about how life changes what people compare. At ten, boys compare school bags and sneakers. At fifteen, they compare PlayStations and game rankings. At twenty-five, it is diplomas, jobs, and salaries. At thirty, cars, condos, and investments. By forty, the conversation can become questionable when counting and comparing extra marital affairs. By fifty or sixty, people compare maintenance medicines, doctors, and medical test results. And finally at seventy, suddenly the conversation becomes, “Which church do you attend?” and “How is your prayer life?” Of course, it is good to turn to God at any age but why so late? God is inviting us to work in His vineyard now. We do not need to wait for the eleventh hour: retirement, sickness, or old age before giving Him our time, talents, and lives. The best time to say yes to God is not someday. It is today.

In this Sunday’s Gospel, Jesus tells the story of workers who arrive at different times but receive the same pay. Those who worked all day complain, saying, in effect, “That doesn’t seem fair!” And honestly, we can understand their reaction. If this happened in our workplace today, people would probably be calling HR, labor authorities, or human rights groups. But Jesus is teaching us that the parable is not really about fairness or how many hours we have worked. It is about the generosity of the landowner. The workers who came early represent Israel, God’s chosen people, who faithfully carried the covenant through generations. Then, at the “eleventh hour,” Jesus calls the Gentiles into God’s vineyard and welcomes them into His Kingdom. The good news is that God continues to call each of us to work in His vineyard. It does not matter whether we think we are at the first, sixth, ninth, or even eleventh hour of our lives. There is still time to respond to His invitation. But here is the challenge: no one knows when his or her “eleventh hour” will come. So when God calls, do not keep waiting. Be generous. Say yes. Come and labor in His vineyard while there is still time.

<enrique,ofs>

​Sirach 27:30—28:7 | Psalm 103:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12 | Romans 14:7-9 | Matthew 18:21-35

​Today’s readings for the Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time raise a question, “Do we forgive first, so that God has to forgive us?” or “Does God forgive us first in order to empower us to forgive others?” Whatever the answer, it’s all about love.

​Two little brothers, Tristan and Rome, had just finished supper and were happily playing before bedtime—until the evening suddenly became a courtroom drama. Somehow, Tristan hit Rome with a stick. Within seconds, tears were flowing, accusations were flying, and both brothers were presenting their “evidence” to Mom. The case was still unresolved when their mother finally said, “Boys, what if one of you died tonight? What if you never got another chance to forgive each other?” Rome became quiet for a moment. Then, with remarkable spiritual maturity, he replied, “Okay, Mom. I’ll forgive him tonight.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Then Rome added, “But if we’re both still alive tomorrow morning, Tristan better watch out!” Apparently, forgiveness had an expiration date: sunrise! Maybe Rome needed another bedtime prayer.

How often do we hold on to grudges and choose not to forgive? Sirach teaches, “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet a sinner holds on to them tight” (Sirach 27:30). But am I not right to be angry when someone wrongs me? Should I not be angry when I witness corruption, blatant injustice, and gross violations of human rights? Anger is a natural and sometimes necessary emotion. It is not a sin to feel angry; what matters is what we do with it. The problem, according to Sirach, is when we cling to anger and allow it to become a desire for revenge. Even when our anger is justified, our grievance should never overwhelm our respect for another’s dignity. Simply put, if you have become a victim, please do not become one who victimizes another. Do not try to heal your wounds by creating new wounds in someone else. May we seek justice without revenge, speak against evil without hatred, and forgive as we ourselves have received mercy.

Althea and Maridel decided to make Mom a mouth-watering mango graham ref cake. They carefully layered the mangoes, cream, and graham crackers until it looked absolutely Instagram-worthy. Finally, the masterpiece was ready! But instead of enjoying their creation, the sisters began arguing about the proper way to eat it. Althea insisted, “You need a fork! That’s civilized!” Maridel fired back, “No way! Bare hands! That’s how you truly enjoy dessert!” The debate became so intense that they completely forgot about Mom. Then their mother walked in and froze. “Girls… what happened to the cake?” They looked at the refrigerator. The cream had melted, the mangoes were sinking, and the graham crackers had become as soggy as wet cardboard. They had spent so much time arguing about how to eat the cake that they forgot why they made it: to bless Mom. Sometimes, we do the same with life—we argue over methods and miss the mission.

In our second reading, Saint Paul addresses the tension between Gentile Christians, who were more liberal in their approach to the Law, and Jewish Christians, who remained committed to strict observance. Yet Paul reminds them—and us—that “none of us lives for oneself, and no one of us dies for oneself” (Romans 14:7). As Christians, we are called to live not merely for ourselves but for the Lord and for one another. Like Christ, our thoughts, words, and actions should be motivated by love. Christian love is not primarily about what we receive, but about what we are willing to give. It calls us to look beyond ourselves, to carry one another’s burdens, and, when necessary, to lay down our lives for our neighbor. St. Teresa of Calcutta beautifully reminds us, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” May we never forget: we belong to Christ, and through Him, we belong to one another.

For ten years, a woman visited a young prisoner. She taught him to read, write, and believe that his life could still have meaning. When he was released, she helped him find work and rebuild his life. When he was finally standing on his own, she quietly stepped away. Before she left, he asked, “Why did you do all this for me?” She answered, “Do you remember the man you killed for a little money to buy drugs? I was his mother.” He was stunned. “I helped you because I know the pain of losing a son. I could have chosen hatred, but I chose mercy. I prayed that your new life would prevent another mother from experiencing the pain I carry. Sometimes, forgiveness does not erase the wound; it transforms our suffering into a reason to save someone else.”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of a king who decides to settle accounts with his servants. The king represents God, and when one servant comes before him with an enormous debt, the king is moved with compassion. He lets him go and completely forgives the debt. But that same servant immediately encounters someone who owes him a much smaller amount. Instead of showing the same mercy he had received, he refuses to forgive. The king asks him, “Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?” Notice the motivation: compassion, mercy, and love—not self-interest. This is where the Lord’s Prayer becomes challenging. We casually pray, “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” But do we realize what we are actually asking? We are asking God to forgive us in the same measure that we forgive others. So forgive the person who owes you money. Forgive the driver who cut you off. Forgive the family member whose political opinions drive you crazy. Forgive the person who owes you an apology but may never give it. Forgiveness does not mean pretending the hurt never happened. It means surrendering our desire for revenge and leaving justice in God’s hands. Perhaps we pray the Lord’s Prayer so quickly because we know how challenging those words really are. May we learn to forgive as God forgives us—quickly, generously, graciously, and again and again.

<enrique,ofs>

Ezekiel 33:7-9 | Psalm 95:1-2, 6-7, 8-9 | Romans 13:8-10 | Matthew 18:15-20

​A blessed Sunday to one and all! This is that special time when you honestly don’t know what to ask from the Lord anymore. Lord, please remove the haze! But then again, if we pray for rain to wash out the air pollutants the whole country might turn into one giant swimming pool. At this point, Lord, we surrender. Ikaw na po ang bahala. We trust Your weather department. The Scriptures for the Twenty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time remind us that we have a responsibility to speak up when we see sin and evil, to look after the good and well-being of others, and to help those who have gone astray find their way back and be reconciled with the Church.

​The family was busy pushing floodwater out of their house. “Push harder!” Dad shouted. “The water is winning!” Their neighbor, Mang Ben, was rushed to the hospital after getting leptospirosis from the flood. “Why does this keep happening?” Mom asked. Dad sighed. “We keep building flood-control projects, yet here we are—using a mop as our main flood-control system!” Grandma shook her head. “Maybe we should have spoken up earlier.” Everyone became quiet. For years, people saw problems. Some saw poor projects. Some heard stories. Some knew something was wrong. But many simply said, “Hayaan mo na,” “Hindi ko problema,” or “Ayoko nang makialam.” Now the water is inside our homes, and the problem is outside them too. Silence can be costly. When good people refuse to speak, wrong things can grow.

In the great walled cities of the ancient Near East, especially during times of war, the watchman had a vital role. Standing on the walls, he watched for approaching enemies and sounded the alarm so the soldiers and people could prepare and defend themselves.
In today’s First Reading, the prophet Ezekiel receives a similar commission from God: he is appointed as the watchman over Israel. The Babylonian army is about to destroy Jerusalem, and the people’s wickedness has brought upon them the consequences of their rebellion. Yet Ezekiel is commanded to warn them once again: “When you hear me say anything, you shall warn them for me.” Ezekiel cannot remain silent. His responsibility is to warn the people of the consequences of their actions and call them to repentance. The message is equally important for us today: to see evil and remain silent can allow it to grow. Like Ezekiel, we are called to speak the truth with courage—not to condemn, but to protect, correct, and lead others back to what is good.

One afternoon, a little boy was playing when his mother and grandmother suddenly heard him say a bad word. The grandmother laughed and said, “Ang apo ko ay pilyong-pilyo na—marunong na magmura!” The mother, however, was not laughing. She called her son and said, “I heard what you said. I don’t want you learning to speak that way. If I hear you say that again, you are going to get a good spanking.” The boy immediately lowered his head. “Sorry, Mommy.” The grandmother did not correct him. She did not hurt him either. But sometimes, silence can teach a lesson too. The boy might think, “Lola heard me, laughed, and said nothing. Maybe bad words are okay!” The mother corrected him because she loved him. She did not want him to normalize something wrong. Sometimes, loving someone means having the courage to say, “That is wrong. Stop. I want you to become better.”

In our Second Reading, the Apostle Paul reflects on the place of the law, or Torah, in the life of a Christian. For Paul, Jesus is the fulfillment of the law, and its deepest meaning is found in one word: love. To live faithfully as a Christian is to live a life shaped by love. Paul gives us a powerful summary: “Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another, for the one who loves another fulfills the law.” He then recalls the commandments concerning our relationship with others and brings them together in one simple command: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But Christian love is more than simply having affection for another person. Love actively seeks the good, dignity, and well-being of others. It means caring enough to forgive, to help, to correct, and even to speak the truth when necessary. This is at the heart of Christian discipleship: to love is to fulfill the law. And perhaps the clearest test of our faith is not how much we know about God, but how sincerely we seek the good of the people He has placed in our lives.

One Sunday, Cara, the housemaid, asked for money to buy groceries. She returned home with no groceries and, mysteriously, no receipts—only a selfie taken inside the supermarket. Apparently, the selfie was now the official government-issued proof of purchase! The homeowner asked Gina, the mayordoma, “Did you give Cara the money?” “Of course, Madam,” Gina replied. “She’s the only one who knows what the kitchen needs.” Then came Lemuel, the driver. “Did you drive Cara to the market?” “Of course, Madam!” “Then why didn’t you ask about the missing groceries and receipt?” “Because she’s the expert on Sunday market shopping!” Finally, the homeowner asked Security Guard Boransil, “Did Cara bring your bottled water?” “No, Madam. She only asked me to record when she left and returned.” When confronted, Cara shouted, “You’re all ganging up on me!” And that is precisely the problem: everyone saw something wrong, but nobody wanted to ask questions. Accountability begins when someone finally has the courage to say, “Wait a minute—something isn’t right here.”

Correcting and admonishing one another is not an easy responsibility, but it is part of what it means to truly care for one another as Christians. In today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches us that when a brother or sister sins against us, our first response should not be gossip, public humiliation, or condemnation. Our first response should be love. Jesus gives us a clear path toward reconciliation. First, we approach the person privately. We speak honestly, but with respect, seeking not to defeat the person but to win back our brother or sister. If this does not work, two or three witnesses are brought in. If the person still refuses to listen, the matter is brought before the Church. At every stage, the goal remains the same: not punishment, but restoration; not rejection, but reconciliation. Only after every effort has failed is the person treated as an outsider. Even this difficult step can be an act of love, giving the person the opportunity to recognize the seriousness of the wrong and return to the community. Christian correction is ultimately about saving relationships and protecting the unity of the Church. Sometimes love must have the courage to speak the truth, because silence can allow wounds to grow. And when truth is spoken with love, it can become the beginning of healing, conversion, and reconciliation.

<enrique,ofs>

Jeremiah 20:7-9 | Psalm 63:2, 3-4, 5-6, 8-9 | Romans 12:1-2 | Matthew 16:21-27

​Today is the Twenty-second Sunday in Ordinary Time, and our readings remind us about the value of suffering in Christian life, choosing Jesus every day, and embracing the crosses we are called to carry.

​Senator Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino Jr. reminds us that courage sometimes means returning to the place where our lives are threatened because we believe something greater is at stake. During Martial Law, Ninoy was imprisoned for opposing the Marcos dictatorship, yet he never stopped speaking for the freedom and rights of Filipinos. After undergoing heart surgery in Boston, he chose to return to the Philippines despite warnings that his life was in danger. Traveling under the alias “Marcial Bonifacio,” he came home because he believed that Filipinos were worth fighting—and even dying—for. On August 21, 1983, he was assassinated at the tarmac of Manila International Airport. His death awakened millions and became a turning point that eventually led to the downfall of the dictatorship. You can kill the messenger, but you cannot kill the message.

Christian hope is knowing that even in dark and frightening moments, God remains with us, offering His light and strength. This is what we see in the prophet Jeremiah. God called him to be His mouthpiece, and Jeremiah said yes. But his calling came with a price. He was mocked, rejected, and persecuted because people did not like the message he proclaimed. Jeremiah even felt deceived by God because of the suffering he endured. Yet despite his pain and frustration, Jeremiah remained faithful. He took responsibility for his calling and continued to speak God’s word, even when doing so was difficult. Like Jeremiah, we may sometimes be rejected for telling the truth, standing for what is right, or simply remaining faithful to God. But rejection and suffering do not mean that God has abandoned us. They can become moments when our faith is tested and strengthened. So, like Jeremiah, stay faithful. Keep speaking the truth. Keep trusting God.

When Emilio Jacinto was young, his family lovingly called him Miling. He was studying at the University of Santo Tomas and had a promising future ahead of him. He could have finished his studies, become a lawyer, earned good money, gained respect, and lived a peaceful and comfortable life. His mother, like any loving parent, wanted exactly that for him. She wanted her son to study, succeed, and have a secure future. She was against his decision to join the Katipunan because she feared the dangers that awaited him. Yet Jacinto believed that his country needed him. His contemporaries—Manuel Quezon, Sergio Osmeña, Vicente Madrigal, and Juan Sumulong—went on to become lawyers, senators, and national leaders. Jacinto could have walked the same path. Instead, he chose to stand with ordinary Filipinos and fight for freedom. He gave up comfort for a cause greater than himself. And because others opened their eyes to freedom, we must never choose to close ours.

For the Roman Christians, it was much easier to return to the pagan ways of their time. That is why St. Paul reminded them that being followers of Christ meant living lives worthy of their new identity. He urged them not to conform to the world but to be transformed “by the mercies of God.” Choosing Jesus is not always easy. We all struggle with the temptation to fall back into old ways and simply follow what the world tells us. That is why we need to choose Jesus every day—not just once, but again and again. Today, tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, let us pray for the grace to choose Jesus at work, at home, in our hobbies, in our relationships, and even in the way we think about our future. Notice that Paul speaks of the “mercies” of God in the plural. Grace comes to us in countless ways, even when we do not deserve it. Every day, God gives us another chance to choose Him.

Apolinario Mabini was a brilliant young man from Batangas. He could have lived a quiet and comfortable life and even considered becoming a priest. But when his country needed him, he offered his greatest gift—his brilliant mind—to serve the young Filipino nation. He became a trusted adviser to Emilio Aguinaldo and helped shape the ideas and laws of the revolutionary government. At just 31, Mabini became lame and could no longer walk or stand. Yet he did not spend his life looking only at what he had lost. He embraced his condition with humility and made what remained of him his strength. If his legs could no longer carry him, his mind would. He continued to think, write, advise, and serve. Even when exiled to Guam, he remained faithful to his country. Mabini teaches us that carrying our cross daily means accepting what we cannot change and faithfully offering God whatever remains in us.

What’s your daily cross? All of us have one—and most of us probably have more than one. Jesus never preached a Gospel of ease and comfort. He was honest about the cost of discipleship: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). Today, some false prophets preach a gospel of prosperity, making people believe that material abundance is a sign of God’s blessing while poverty and hardship are signs of His curse. But Jesus never promised that following Him would make our problems disappear. Mary, the saints, and the martyrs remained faithful in good times and bad. Our faith cannot depend on sales, promotions, success, or material gain. When hardship comes, we must still choose Christ. Our crosses are not meaningless. When united with Christ’s cross, our struggles can become part of our participation in His redemptive work. As St. Rose of Lima reminds us, “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.”

<enrique,ofs>

Isaiah 22:19-23 | Psalm 138: 1-2, 2-3, 6, 8 | Romans 11: 33-36 | Matthew 16: 13-20

​On this Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time, Isaiah reminds us that those who remain faithful will receive their reward from God. St. Paul, in his letter to the Romans, reminds us that all our theologizing should ultimately lead us to worship and praise God. And finally, the Gospel reminds us that we are continually being transformed by Jesus’ love, forgiveness, and patience.

​A busload of politicians was cruising down a quiet country road when surprise, surprise the bus suddenly left the road and crashed into a tree in an old farmer’s field. Farmer Broderick heard the commotion, walked over, and found the politicians scattered around the wreck. Being a practical man, he grabbed a shovel and buried them. A few days later, Police Chief Gaudencio arrived to investigate the abandoned bus. “Where are all the politicians?” he asked. “I buried them,” Broderick calmly replied. The chief looked shocked. “You buried them? Were they ALL dead?” Broderick paused, scratched his head, and said, “Well, some of them insisted they weren’t.” Then he shrugged. “But you know politicians. They’re always lying!” The chief stared at him in silence. Broderick smiled. “Besides, Chief, I thought it was safer to trust the shovel than their promises.”

Isaiah prophesied during the reign of King Hezekiah, a king devoted to the Lord. In the First Reading (Isaiah 22:15–25), we encounter the al-bayith, literally “over the household,” the royal official who served as prime minister and acted with the king’s authority. He wore a robe of honor, was called a “father,” and held the keys of the house of David, symbolizing the power to “bind and loose.” His office carried great responsibility, with the weight of his household resting on his shoulders. Eliakim was entrusted with this authority because of his faithfulness, while Shebna was removed for using his position for self-glorification and making decisions contrary to God’s will. The passage reminds us that political power is never absolute. Ultimately, judgment belongs to God. Leaders may possess authority, but “might does not make right.” The truly faithful will receive their reward, while those who abuse power for selfish ends will face God’s judgment.

One day, Jesus visited a prestigious theological school in Quezon City and decided to give the seminarians a little oral exam. Jesus asked, “Who do you say that I am?” The seminarians looked at one another, cleared their throats, adjusted their glasses, and prepared to impress their professor. One finally answered, “You are the eschatological manifestation of the ontological ground of our being, the incarnational expression of the kerygma through which we discover the ultimate meaning of our interpersonal relationship with the transcendent.” Jesus stared at them. Silence. Then Jesus slowly scratched His head and said: “Guys… I just asked, ‘Who am I?’” One seminarian nervously replied, “Actually, Lord, that question requires further hermeneutical clarification.” Jesus sighed. “Peter,” He whispered, “I miss you.”

In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul reminds us that God’s wisdom and knowledge are far beyond human understanding. His judgments are unsearchable, and His ways are beyond our comprehension. No theologian can fully know the mind of the Lord, and no theological system, however venerable, can claim to explain God completely. As St. Augustine wisely said, “If you can grasp it, it isn’t God.”
God knows us completely, from the beginning to the end of our lives, yet we can never fully grasp His infinite wisdom. There comes a point when every theologian must lay down the pen and humbly acknowledge the limits of human understanding. Theology, therefore, must ultimately become doxology—it must lead us to worship. All our parish formation, Bible studies, catechesis, and theological learning should bring us to deeper humility and praise. If our study of God does not lead us to worship Him more deeply, perhaps we have missed its true purpose.

A Japanese sensei once gathered his students for a lesson on kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold. He placed a beautiful bowl on the table and accidentally knocked it to the floor. It shattered. The students gasped. “Sensei, the bowl is ruined!” one said. The old teacher smiled. “No. It has become a story.” He carefully gathered the pieces and repaired them with golden lacquer. When he finished, the cracks were clearly visible, but they had become the most beautiful part of the bowl. One student asked, “Why not hide the cracks?” The sensei replied, “Because what has been broken should not always be hidden. Sometimes the repair becomes part of the beauty.” Through love, forgiveness, and patience. Perhaps we are kintsugi people too: broken, restored, and made useful by grace.

Our Gospel finds Jesus and His disciples in Caesarea Philippi, a cosmopolitan center near Mount Hermon known for the worship of the Greek god Pan. In this setting, Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter responds, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God!” Catholic tradition sees in this passage the foundation of the Petrine office. Echoing Isaiah 22:15–25, Jesus entrusts Peter with the “keys of the kingdom” and gives him the authority to “bind and loose.” Yet Peter was far from perfect. He was impulsive, easily distracted, slow to understand, and even denied Jesus three times. His personality was truly “rocky,” yet Jesus chose him to become the rock upon which His Church would be built. This is the beauty of the Gospel: Jesus does not wait for perfect people. He transforms flawed people through His love, forgiveness, and patience. The Church is made up of “rocky lives” like ours. Despite human failures and scandals, I remain because Jesus never gave up on Peter, nor will He abandon His Church. As St. Paul reminds us, God places His treasures in “jars of clay” (2 Corinthians 4:7). He can transform our weakness into a foundation for His Church.

<enrique,ofs>

Isaiah 56: 1, 6-7 | Psalm 67: 2-3, 5, 6, 8 | Romans 11: 13-15, 29-32 | ​Matthew 15: 21-28

​I hope everyone has finally managed to dry their homes, clothes, and everything else after what felt like two weeks of nonstop rain! At this point, I was already wondering if we should start building an ark! Our readings for this Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time remind us that the gift of life and salvation is offered to everyone, especially to those who are willing to go beyond boundaries and dividing lines and demonstrate great faith in Jesus.

​One Sunday, a Filipino man rushed into a bakery and saw a long line. In front of him stood an African man, a Chinese woman, an Indian man, and a white American. He whispered to his friend, “I hope they know this is the line for bread!” The African man turned around and laughed. “Yes, my friend. And I’ve been here longer than you!” Suddenly, an elderly woman dropped her groceries. Without thinking about race, color, or nationality, the Chinese woman immediately stepped out of line to help her. The Indian man followed. Then the African man and the Filipino man joined them. Someone joked, “Look at us! We finally agree on something!” They all laughed. The elderly woman smiled and said, “It’s funny. We all have different faces and different backgrounds, but kindness seems to speak the same language.” The Filipino man replied, “Maybe goodness doesn’t come in a particular color after all!”

The first reading is an excerpt from the third part of the Book of Isaiah, often called Trito-Isaiah. In the Mosaic Law, foreigners, or non-Jews, were given limited rights and were expressly mentioned in certain laws. Even before the exile, foreigners were allowed to perform certain functions within the Temple boundaries. Trito-Isaiah, however, clearly sets out the conditions under which they may participate: they must observe the Sabbath and remain faithful to the covenant, insofar as these obligations apply to non-Israelites. In a symbolic way, this prophecy foreshadows the universalism of the Gospel. Scripture is clear: there is no room for racism in God’s plan for His people. Every person we encounter today, every person we pass on the road or in a store, every man and woman is a unique child of God, created in His image and likeness. We all belong to Him. God is Father to all people, and His love embraces the whole world.
Trito-Isaiah points to a time when the Temple of God will become a house of prayer not only for the Jews but for all peoples. Perhaps we experience so much unrest and division today because we have forgotten this simple truth: we are all children of God, and because we belong to Him, we also belong to one another.

Abdul, a Muslim, and Adriano, a Christian, had been best friends since college. One Sunday, Abdul asked, “Can I come with you to Mass? I’ve never been inside a Catholic church.” “Of course!” Adriano replied. As soon as they entered, Abdul began removing his shoes. “Why are you taking off your shoes?” Adriano asked. “Out of respect. This is holy ground, right?” Adriano laughed. “You can keep them on unless you want someone to steal them and send you home barefoot!” On Friday, Adriano returned the favor and joined Abdul at the mosque. Before entering, Abdul stopped him. “Wait! Please remove your shoes before entering the prayer hall.” Adriano nervously looked around. “Are you sure? What if someone steals them?” Abdul grinned and said, “Relax, my friend. There are no other Christians here.”

Judging books by their covers has become a national pastime of sorts for many of us! We often make quick judgments about people simply because they look, speak, worship, or live differently from us. But in his Letter to the Romans, the Apostle Paul reminds us that God’s salvation is for all. Through the death of Jesus on the cross, everyone is offered the possibility of becoming a witness to Christ. Paul makes it clear that God’s call to Israel has not been revoked. The Jews remain God’s chosen people. At the same time, the Gentiles, who once disobeyed God, have now received His mercy. Likewise, the Jews who have disobeyed are also able to receive God’s mercy through the same mercy shown to the Gentiles. In the end, God’s mercy is greater than our boundaries, divisions, and failures. Sometimes, we behave as though we have the exclusive right to salvation and, as a result, act as if other people do not matter. But if we truly desire to reach heaven, we also have the responsibility to help lead others toward God. Salvation is not something we should selfishly keep for ourselves. Anyone who claims exclusive access to heaven simply because of membership in a particular religious group is misunderstanding the universal reach of God’s mercy. Jesus is the Prince of Peace, and His peace calls us to look beyond the differences that divide us. There are certainly people who are different from us, and there may even be people we do not particularly like. Jesus never said that we have to like everyone. But He did command us to love them.

A devout Christian watched Mother Teresa of Calcutta as she cleaned a maggot-infested wound of a Hindu and fed starving moslems on the streets, only to say, “Why are you helping them? They are not Christians, are they?" Mother Teresa replied, "But I am a Christian".

As a Canaanite, the woman in today’s Gospel was considered an outsider, a stranger to the covenant of Israel. Jesus takes that boundary seriously. At first, He does not even answer her. Then He tells her that He was sent to the lost sheep of Israel. But the woman does not give up. She falls at His feet and simply says, “Lord, help me!” Jesus responds with a difficult saying: “It is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs.” Yet the woman’s response is quick and clever: “Even the dogs eat the scraps that fall from the table of their masters.” Her faith is so strong that she refuses to walk away. In a way, this pagan woman can teach us a lot about prayer. She knew she was an outsider, but she still approached Jesus with faith and brought Him the pain and suffering of her daughter. She trusted that Jesus could do something about her situation. Sometimes, we are afraid to let God take control of our lives because we are scared of what might happen. But we forget that God’s plans are always greater than what we can imagine. Like the Canaanite woman, we are called to keep growing in faith, to open our hearts to God’s gifts, and to trust Him even when we do not understand His ways. And sometimes, our prayer can be as simple and honest as hers: “Lord, help me. Give me faith. Show me the way.”

<enrique,ofs>

1 Kings 19:9A, 11-13A | Psalm 85: 9, 10, 11-12, 13-14 | Romans 9: 1-5 | Matthew 14:22-33

​On this Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, let us learn to be still and listen for the heartbeat of God within us; lovingly help others discover what is true and good; and, above all, place our complete trust in God, whatever storms or challenges may come our way.

​An elderly woman approached her parish priest with a worried face. "Father, why doesn't God answer my prayers? Every Monday I pray the Holy Spirit Novena. Tuesday, St. Anthony. Wednesday, Our Lady of Perpetual Help. Thursday, St. Jude. Friday, the Sacred Heart. Saturday, Our Lady of Lourdes. Sunday, I pray the Holy Trinity Novena—and I even serve as commentator at Mass!" The priest smiled and said, "My dear, I think heaven knows your voice by heart already. She looked puzzled. He continued, "Have you ever tried sitting quietly in one corner... and saying nothing?" "Nothing, Father?" "Just once. God may have been trying to answer you all this time, but He couldn't get a word in! You're doing all the talking." The old woman laughed. Sometimes our prayers become a monologue. Faith grows deeper when we stop talking long enough to let God speak. Silence is often where His loudest answers are heard.

In the first reading from the First Book of Kings, we find Elijah in one of the darkest moments of his life. After boldly confronting King Ahab and his wicked wife Jezebel over the worship of Baal, Elijah is forced to flee in fear for his life. His journey leads him to Mount Horeb, the mountain of God, where generations earlier Moses encountered the Lord in a powerful way. As Elijah searched desperately for God, he expected Him to appear in dramatic ways—in the fierce wind, the earthquake, or the blazing fire. But God was not in any of these. Instead, Elijah encountered Him in a gentle whisper, a quiet breeze. We live in a culture that is addicted to noise. We have become so accustomed to constant sounds, busy schedules, endless notifications, and crowded spaces that silence often makes us uncomfortable. Television, radio, traffic, social media, smartphones, and tablets fill almost every waking moment. Silence is the environment where contemplation flourishes. It is in silence that we learn to listen, to pray, and to recognize God's presence. More often than not, God speaks to us not through spectacular events but through the quiet moments of our everyday lives. Do you ever make time for silence just to listen to God? Ssssh... be still. Quiet your heart. Listen closely, and you may hear the gentle heartbeat of God within you. 

The accounting office was unusually noisy. "Sarah," Lorna said, holding a folder, "where are the official receipts and sales invoices for these expenses?" Sarah scratched her head. "They're... spiritually missing." Imee quickly came to her rescue. "But Ma'am, she brings snacks for everyone every day!" Robin added, "And she's always the last to leave because she cleans the office!" Lorna smiled. "That's wonderful. Give her Employee of the Month if you want. But kindness is not a substitute for receipts." The room burst into laughter. Sarah sighed. "So my pandesal and floor-mopping can't liquidate ₱12,000?" "Nice try," Lorna replied. "Good deeds deserve appreciation. Office expenses deserve documentation." Everyone laughed again.

In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul opens his heart and shares his deep sorrow because many of his fellow Jews refused to recognize Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah promised by God through the patriarchs and the prophets. His anguish was so great that he even wrote, "I could wish that I myself were accursed for the sake of my brothers" (Romans 9:3). Paul was expressing the depth of his love. If it were possible, he would gladly bear the punishment himself if it meant that his own people would come to know Christ. Today, we live in a culture where many people believe there are no moral absolutes and that tolerance means never correcting anyone. But true love is not silent when someone is walking down the wrong path. We often hear people say, "I wouldn't break the law, but maybe it's okay if others do," or "Corruption is wrong, but I'd rather not say anything," or "Negligence is unacceptable, but we should just let it pass." Yet the law should apply equally to everyone. If something is wrong, it is wrong regardless of who commits it, their position, popularity, or political affiliation. As Christians, correcting others should never come from pride or a desire to condemn. It should come from genuine love and concern for their well-being. Real love is willing to speak the truth with humility, patience, and compassion. St. Paul loved people too much to remain silent while they drifted away from God. 

Two years ago, a fire swept through a residential neighborhood in Sampaloc, Manila. As the flames spread rapidly, a young boy named Jimboy found himself trapped on the roof of his burning home. Thick smoke filled the air, and there seemed to be no way out. Down below stood his father, Jimmy, with his arms stretched out, desperately calling, "Jimboy, jump! I'll catch you!" His father knew that jumping was the only way to save his son's life. But from where Jimboy stood, all he could see was fire, smoke, and darkness. Fear gripped his heart. He wanted to jump, but he couldn't see where he would land. "Tatay," he cried, "I can't see you!" Then his father answered with words his son would never forget: "But I can see you... and that's all that matters."

In today's Gospel, Peter became overwhelmed by the raging storm around him. The moment he took his eyes off Jesus and focused on the wind and the waves, fear took over, his faith faltered, and he began to sink. Yet even in that frightening moment, Jesus was right there, reaching out His hand to save him. Storms are part of every human life. They come in many forms—illness, loss, uncertainty, disappointment, or fear. None of us is exempt from them. But the Gospel reminds us that we never face our storms alone. As we step out in faith and courage, may we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus. He has promised to walk with us and never abandon us. Our part is to trust Him, even when the path ahead is unclear, believing that the rest is safely in His hands.

<enrique,ofs>