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The Eucharist, the Heavenly Banquet

28th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

October 11, 2026

Matthew 22:1-14

As a Catholic, I cannot help but associate the parable of the wedding banquet with the celebration of the Eucharist. But why is that?

In the parable, the king prepares a wedding banquet for his son, and we can easily imagine it as the celebration of the century. A proud father who is also the supreme leader of the kingdom would naturally wish not only to make his son the happiest man in the world, but also to show his entire kingdom that this is the most important event in his royal family. Thus, one can expect the most delicious food, an abundance of choice wine, and the finest entertainment. Everyone invited who attends the celebration will not only be deeply honored, but will also experience immense joy.

The Eucharist is likewise a banquet, yet it is prepared not by a human ruler, but by the King of the Universe. Because the Eucharist is prepared by the King of Heaven, it is the greatest and highest celebration we can experience on earth. What truly makes the Eucharist the ultimate celebration is that the King of Heaven has prepared something exceptionally special for those who answer His invitation—something the world cannot offer, something far more precious than gold, and greater than any gift we could ever imagine. God offers Jesus Himself to us—not merely in our minds or hearts, but upon our lips and into our very souls. He gives us not just a fraction of Himself, but the totality of Christ. Because Jesus is eternally united with the Father and the Holy Spirit, as well as with all the saints in heaven, every time we receive the Eucharist, we receive heaven itself.

Unfortunately, some of us resemble the invited guests who failed to attend because they prioritized their daily chores and routine labor over the royal banquet. We risk losing sight of the profound value of the Eucharist, treating it neither as a divine invitation nor as a heavenly celebration. The moment we lose sight of its true essence, we begin searching for shallow reasons to go to church. Perhaps we attend merely to be inspired or entertained by the priest’s homily; if we find him boring, we cease attending Mass. Or perhaps we go simply because it is a family tradition; once we are away from our parents, we no longer feel obligated. In doing so, we reduce the Eucharist to just another earthly activity, squandering our pathway to heaven.

Another danger is treating the Eucharist casually, much like the guest who entered the royal banquet without a proper wedding garment. Perhaps we approach the altar not seeking God, but pursuing our own selfish interests. The most dangerous state of all is receiving the Eucharist while in a state of mortal sin. As Saint Paul warns, “Whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord… For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself” (1 Cor 11:27, 29).

Guide questions:
Do I truly view attending Mass as a joyful response to a divine invitation from the King, or have I let daily chores, routine obligations, or shallow motives take priority? When I prepare to receive the Eucharist, am I approaching Jesus with a heart genuinely seeking Him, or am I treating this sacred encounter casually out of routine? Is there any unconfessed serious sin or selfish attitude in my life that prevents me from wearing the “wedding garment” of a clean and contrite heart before the Lord’s altar?

God’s “Illogical” Love

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

October 4, 2026

Matthew 21:33-43

Our Gospel tells us the story of a vineyard owner who entrusted his vineyard to workers so that they might take care of it and produce a good harvest. At first, this seems like a normal occurrence in the agrarian industry. Yet, as the story unfolds, we see strange, unexpected events begin to happen. What are those unexpected events?

First, the owner prepared almost everything before leaving: he planted the vines, built a hedge to protect the vineyard from wild animals such as boars and foxes, dug a wine press where the grapes could be crushed to produce juice for fermentation, and built a watchtower where a guard could be stationed to watch for incoming animals or thieves. The tower could also serve as a shelter for the workers to rest. It is important to note that the vineyard owner was under no legal obligation to provide all these facilities.

Second, and even more remarkable, is what happened after his first servant was beaten by the rebellious tenants. The expected response would have been for the owner to immediately send an army to take back his land and punish the ungrateful laborers. Instead, he chose to do something unthinkable: he sent more servants, knowing they might meet the same cruel fate. Finally, he chose to send his own beloved son, believing the workers would respect him. However, the wicked men did not hesitate to kill the owner’s son (Matthew 21:33–39, Mark 12:1–8, Luke 20:9–15).

Looking at the landowner’’ actions, we recognize that they appear completely irrational, even foolish. No logical person would act this way. Yet, what the landowner did is precisely what the Lord does for us. As Sacred Scripture reminds us, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16), fully knowing that humanity would repeatedly reject Him. This divine love defies human logic and comprehension, yet it is through this very love that we hold the hope of ultimate salvation rather than condemnation.

On one occasion, a student asked a priest, “Father, why do we need to confess our sins when we know we are going to sin again anyway?” It was a logical and challenging question. The priest answered, “Yes, you are right. We will fall into temptation again.” After a thoughtful pause, he continued, “When we get sick, we take medicine to get well. Even though we know we might get sick again in the future, we do not stop taking medicine.”

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is the greatest proof of God’s unimaginable love and mercy toward us. No matter how sinful we are, how flawed we feel, or how far we have fallen, God is always ready to receive us when we approach Him with true contrition. He knows our weaknesses and foresees our future falls, yet He never withdraws His love. However, while God’s grace is freely given, it is never cheap. If we continue to take His love for granted and abuse His mercy, then at the final judgment, the Lord will return not as our Savior, but as our Just Judge.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:
How often do I recognize and appreciate the gifts, blessings, and grace that God has already prepared and entrusted to me in my life? When I repeatedly fail or fall into the same sins, do I humbly seek God’s mercy in confession, or do I make excuses and stay away from Him? Am I truly striving to grow in holiness, or am I taking God’s love for granted and abusing His infinite mercy in my daily choices?

Kenosis and Love

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

September 27, 2026

Philippians 2:1-11

Philippians 2:5–11 is one of the most beautiful and profound passages in Scripture. Many scholars and theologians have recognized it as an ancient Hymn of Christ, either composed by St. Paul himself or inherited from the earliest Christian communities. What can we learn from this profound hymn?

The first lesson lies in the act of self-emptying, known in Greek as kenosis (v. 7). This act of self-emptying was possible precisely because Jesus possesses the full nature of God. As God, He had every right and power to remain in heavenly glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit. From heaven, Jesus could have dealt with sinful humanity in any way He pleased, whether by punishing us severely or eradicating us completely. Even if He had wished to pardon us, He could have done so simply by speaking a single word of forgiveness from the comfort of His heavenly throne. Instead, He chose something far beyond human imagination: He descended from heaven and became man. This decision was driven by His radical humility. Jesus was not obsessed with holding onto His divine glory, majesty, and splendor, nor was He hungry for worship or adoration. Instead, He loved us so immensely that He chose to become like us in our human weakness.

Furthermore, His act of self-emptying did not end with the Incarnation; it went even deeper to embrace the lowest state of human suffering: death as a crucified man. In the time of Jesus, crucifixion was a penalty so brutal that it was reserved only for the worst criminals, such as murderers and rebels. Jesus did not merely set aside His divine majesty; He was willing to be counted among the most degraded of human beings. Jesus walked this path to demonstrate one ultimate truth: He loves us to the very end. His unimaginable self-emptying, motivated by radical humility, reveals the depth of God’s infinite love.

St. Paul further amplifies this truth by linking Christ’s self-emptying to its spiritual effect when he writes, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich” (2 Cor 8:9). Through this hymn, St. Paul teaches us the precious lesson that true love is realized through humility and self-emptying. It is through this very self-emptying that love transforms and enriches the ones we love.

St. Paul recognized Christ’s self-emptying and strove to follow in the footsteps of his divine Master. He left everything behind to proclaim Jesus Christ and establish churches in many lands. Living a very simple life, he worked by day as a tentmaker to support himself and his mission, while spending his nights teaching the Gospel to the faith communities. Though he surrendered everything for Christ, the early Christians gained Christ and an abundance of spiritual gifts. Paul gained nothing in the eyes of the world except hardship and trials, yet he rejoiced in his sufferings because he was able to participate in the afflictions and self-emptying of Christ (Col 1:24).

Ultimately, we love truly when we are willing to empty ourselves so that those we love may be made rich.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:
In what areas of my life am I holding on to my rights, status, or desire for recognition, and how can I practice radical humility like Christ in those situations? Am I willing to lower myself or set aside my own comfort so that the people I love can be built up, enriched, and supported? When I face hardships, trials, or sacrifices for the sake of others, do I see them as empty burdens, or can I embrace them as a way to participate in Christ’s self-emptying love?

Anger

24th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

September 13, 2026

Sirach 27:30 – 28:7

We get angry, yet what is anger? Is getting angry inherently sinful? What do the Bible and the Church teach about this emotion?

Anger is part of the broader spectrum of human emotions, much like happiness, sadness, or fear. Like any other emotion, anger belongs to our biological system and helps us react to our surroundings. Consequently, it is morally neutral—neither sinful nor praiseworthy in itself. However, anger differs from other feelings because it triggers intense physical responses: muscles tense, the heart rate increases, breathing quickens, and adrenaline surges. These physiological reactions prepare us to act and to confront perceived evils. In ancient times, our ancestors relied on anger to fight for survival and safeguard resources, as the loss of life or basic necessities posed the greatest threat to their existence.

Today, modern humans experience anger for a wide variety of reasons, ranging from losing a Wi-Fi signal or sitting in traffic for hours, to grieving a loss or facing injustice. Because anger is subject to human reason, it becomes truly beneficial only when managed wisely. Conversely, when we allow anger to master our reason, it can harm not only us but also those around us, including the people we love. This is the point at which anger becomes sinful.

Anger becomes sinful in two primary ways. First, we might direct anger toward the wrong object—meaning we become upset over something that is not genuinely unjust. For instance, a student who never studies might grow angry with a teacher for assigning a low grade. Second, we might hold anger for the wrong motivation, such as a desire for vengeance. When hurt or upset, we can become driven by a vindictive urge to see others suffer as we have suffered. This impulse is dangerous because it leads to hurtful words or violent actions that harm both ourselves and others. True Christian anger must always be grounded in justice rather than revenge. As Sirach says, “vengeance belongs to the Lord.”

How, then, should Christians manage anger? First, when experiencing a surge of emotion, we can take a deep breath and count to ten, doing our best to calm down. Second, we ought to reflect on the root cause by asking, “What triggered my anger?” The issue might stem from our own actions, or, if caused by someone else, it may have been completely unintentional. Third, we should consider the right reasons and methods for expressing our feelings. Is it necessary to shout or curse? Must we post on social media to generate attention, or can we address the matter through direct, peaceful conversation? We do well to remember the advice of Saint Paul, “Do not let the sun go down on your anger” (Eph 4:26). Fourth, we must learn to forgive, especially when the other person seeks one. Forgiveness does not mean ignoring the offense or pretending it never happened; rather, it is an act of charity that restores peace and fosters unity.

Finally, what should we do if anger leads us into sin? First, we can seek the Sacrament of Reconciliation and ask for the Lord’s forgiveness. We must prevent harmful emotional outbursts from developing into habit, and acknowledging our anger as sinful is the first step toward overcoming it. Second, whenever possible, we should ask for forgiveness from those we have wronged. Seeking reconciliation is never a sign of weakness; it is a display of spiritual strength that builds lasting peace.

How often do we allow minor everyday frustrations to cloud our reason and hurt the people we love? When we feel wronged, are we seeking true justice and peace, or are we driven by a desire for vengeance? Do we actively practice forgiveness and address our anger daily, or do we let it linger and settle in our hearts?

The Reason Behind Fraterna Correctio

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

September 6, 2026

Matthew 18:15-20

Our Gospel passage addresses the act of offering correction to our brothers and sisters when they commit a sin against us. This pericope is traditionally known in Latin as Fraterna Correctio. Why is this teaching on fraternal correction considered so important that our Lord Himself laid out a clear procedure for it?

First, we must clarify that we are not dealing with mere human lapses or simple mistakes, such as choosing the wrong outfit or forgetting to comb our hair, but with sin. Sin is a direct violation of God’s law. Although the Gospel states, “when a brother sins against you,” sin is ultimately committed against the Lord. When we steal from a brother, we do not merely harm him; we offend the Lord by committing an act that displeases Him. While harming our neighbor can strain or destroy earthly relationships, violating God’s law brings far graver consequences, as it imperils our eternal life with Him.

Second, the Gospel emphasizes that the person who sins against us is our brother. Throughout this pericope, the word “brother” refers not only to biological siblings or relatives, but Jesus’ disciples, meaning the fellow members of the Church—our Christian brothers and sisters united by baptism and faith in Jesus Christ. While we certainly ought to correct family members and relatives when they sin, the Lord also requires us to care for our broader spiritual family. The Lord places this responsibility upon us for a reason revealed in the first reading, Ezekiel 33:7–9. Speaking through the prophet Ezekiel, the Lord warns that if we fail to call our brothers to repentance, we share in their guilt. Our silence signals either approval of their actions or indifference toward their souls, both of which displease the Lord.

Third, correcting our brothers is fundamentally a saving act of love. When we love people, we desire the highest good for them, which is ultimately eternal life in heaven. Loving them means helping them reach that goal while urging them to avoid anything that threatens their salvation. By reminding them to repent from their sins, we fulfill the greatest commandments: to love the Lord and to love our neighbor. We love the Lord by fulfilling His desire to guide our brothers away from a sinful life, and we love our brothers by drawing them closer to God.

However, we must also remember that the choice to repent ultimately belongs to them. After doing our best to correct them, if they persist in their sin, we should not grow overly frustrated or consumed by sorrow. Instead, we entrust them to the Lord in prayer, recognizing that only He can transform a human heart. Furthermore, as those who offer correction, we must maintain a humble spirit, acting as servants of the Lord rather than assuming a position of superiority over our brothers. As we care for others through fraterna correctio, we must continually guard our own hearts against pride and hypocrisy.

Manila

Valentinus bayuhadi ruseno, OP

Guide questions:
How often do we remain silent when a brother or sister in Christ strays, and are we holding back out of indifference or a genuine lack of love? Do we approach fraterna correctio with true humility as fellow servants, or do we secretly feel superior to those we are trying to correct? When someone refuses to listen to our gentle corrections, can we peacefully entrust them to God in prayer without giving in to anger, frustration, or pride?

Living Sacrifice

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

August 29, 2026

Rome 12:1-2

In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul urges the faithful to offer their bodies as a “living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1). For ancient readers, St. Paul’s statement was a striking oxymoron—a figure of speech that combines two words of opposing meaning, such as “bittersweet” or “controlled chaos.” But why was Paul’s concept of a “living sacrifice” an oxymoron in the first place?

In ancient times, people worshiped their gods by offering sacrifices. This was especially true for the Israelites in Paul’s era. Worshippers would travel to the Temple in Jerusalem bringing animals—most commonly lambs—for sacrifice. First, the priests would inspect each animal to ensure it was free of defects. After certification, the worshipper would lay his hands on the animal’s head to symbolically identify himself with it. The animal’s throat was then cut with a swift, continuous motion of a razor-sharp knife to ensure a rapid death. A priest would catch the fresh blood in a sacred basin, stirring it continuously to prevent coagulation, before carrying it to the Altar to splash or sprinkle against its base. Finally, the priests flayed the animal, cut it into portions, and placed either parts of it or the whole victim onto the Altar to be burned (see Leviticus 1–4).

Because sacrifice in both the pagan world and ancient Israel was inextricably linked with the death of the victim, St. Paul’s phrase “living sacrifice” sounded like a direct contradiction. However, Paul was drawing upon a rich Old Testament tradition. The prophets frequently emphasized that animal sacrifices were meaningless without true, heart-felt repentance. King David proclaimed, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17). Similarly, the prophet Hosea declared God’s message: “For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hosea 6:6).

To become a “living sacrifice” still involves death, but not a physical one. St. Paul explained this personal transformation when he wrote, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). Paul was not literally executed on a wooden cross; rather, he put to death his ego, selfish interests, and worldly desires to live entirely for Jesus Christ. From that point on, everything he said and did was oriented toward pleasing the Lord and advancing the Gospel.

Just as Jesus offered Himself as a complete sacrifice on the cross, St. Paul surrendered his own body and life to God by living in total conformity with the divine will. In the same way, St. Paul invites us to offer our bodies, work, studies, relationships, rest, and even our sufferings as a living sacrifice. In everything we do, we strive to please God and live according to His will. For Catholics, every daily activity can be united with the self-offering of Jesus in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, becoming part of that perfect offering that constitutes true, spiritual worship (Romans 12:1).

Guide questions:
How can we put to death our own egos, selfish desires, and worldly ambitions so that Christ can truly live through us each day? In what ways can we offer our daily routines—our work, studies, relationships, and even our struggles—as a living sacrifice to God? Are we offering God meaningful inner devotion and mercy in our daily actions, or are we simply going through the motions of outward religious habits?

Who Is Jesus to You?

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

August 23, 2026

Matthew 16:13-20

Today, Jesus asked His disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 16:15). Arguably, this is the most important question we will answer in our lives. We might answer in various ways—that Jesus is our beloved friend, the Good Shepherd, our leader, or our Savior and Redeemer. While all of these descriptions are true, the moment we confess Jesus as our Lord and God, everything changes.

If we truly accept Jesus as our God, our lives must be oriented around Him, making Him our first priority. Giving Him the highest honor is hardly enough; instead, we must offer Him the worship that only God deserves. Sharing some of our time, resources, and talents for His glory is far from enough; we are called to dedicate our whole lives to Him. Being baptized and attending church every Sunday are only the minimum requirements; Instead, we should strive to please Him in every aspect of our lives—in our words, actions, and daily choices at all times.

Many of us might object that this standard is impossible to maintain because we are not priests or nuns, or because we want to pursue other legitimate priorities such as our careers, hobbies, and personal ambitions. To many, this demand seems unrealistic. However, this expectation does not arise out of thin air; rather, it flows naturally from the virtue of justice.

Simply put, justice means giving someone what is due. When an employer pays a fair wage to an employee who has completed their work, it is not an act of charity, but an obligation demanded by justice. Similarly, as citizens, justice requires us to obey the law and contribute to the common good of society, such as by paying taxes. At the same time, the government has an obligation to serve its citizens honestly and with integrity by protecting them from harm, providing healthcare, and building infrastructure, because these services are obligations to citizens. All of these obligations naturally arise from the demands of justice.

If we are to practice justice in our families, workplaces, and communities, we must all the more render what is just and right to our God and Creator. We need to recognize that God was not obligated to create us, yet He brought us into existence, endowed us with reason and free will, and made us unique among all creatures on earth. Furthermore, God was not obligated to save us, yet when humanity fell into sin, He redeemed us through His Son so that we would not perish (John 3:16). Ultimately, God graciously offers us His friendship and adopts us as His children. Although we deserve nothing from God, He has given us everything. Therefore, the virtue of justice demands that we give God everything we have—our time, our talents, and even our lives. This does not mean that we are all called to be priests or monks/nuns. As laypeople and professionals, we can prioritize Jesus by ensuring that every decision we make aligns with His divine will and pleases Him.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How actively do we allow our belief in Jesus as our Lord and God to reshape our daily choices, priorities, and habits? Do we give God only the bare minimum of our time and talents, or do we strive to give Him the full devotion He justly deserves? In what practical ways can we honor God and seek His will in our daily lay vocations, families, and careers?

The Canaanite Woman

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

August 16, 2026

Matthew 15:21-28

The meeting between Jesus and the Canaanite woman is one of the most controversial accounts in the Gospels. Seemingly, Jesus not only shows a lack of empathy toward a mother whose daughter is suffering, but He also appears to insult her by associating her with an animal. Yet, what is truly happening beneath the surface of this story?

Unpacking this narrative requires looking back just before Jesus and His disciples withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon, ancient cities located north beyond Israel’s borders. Prior to this journey, Jesus had debated the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, declaring, “What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them” (Matt. 15:11). While this line might initially seem unrelated to the encounter with the Canaanite woman, it holds a crucial key to understanding the entire passage.

Under the Mosaic Law, the Jews ate only clean animals, a practice that distinctly separated them from the Gentiles, who consumed a wider variety of creatures. These purity laws often made the Jews hesitant to share tables with Gentiles to avoid the risk of consuming unclean food. However, when Jesus declared that what enters the mouth does not defile a person, He was not merely granting permission to eat freely; rather, He was dismantling the spiritual and cultural wall that barred Gentiles from communion with the Israelites. Therefore, by deliberately entering Gentile territory, Jesus initiated the outreach to non-Jewish people, though His invitation still required a response from the Gentiles themselves. This is precisely where the Canaanite woman enters the picture.

Significantly, the Gospel of Matthew explicitly identifies her as a Canaanite. In the Old Testament, this term referred to the native inhabitants of Palestine who were historically in conflict with the Israelites. Matthew likely used this designation to highlight not only that she was socially barred from sharing a table with Jesus and His followers, but also the centuries-old enmity rooted between their peoples. Thus, when this woman approached Jesus, the encounter was not merely a meeting between two individuals of different nationalities; it represented two identities that had harbored hatred and distance for generations. While the woman fully expected rejection and potential insult, her love for her daughter proved stronger than the historical divide, and her faith in Jesus was firmer than any doubt.

During their exchange, Jesus used the Greek word kynerion, which translates to a small household puppy rather than the harsh street-dog slur common at the time. Through this term, Jesus conveyed a profound truth: the Gentiles were already inside the household and cared for by the master of the house, yet they were not yet recognized as full family members. One vital step remained. Fortunately, the woman grasped the nuance of His words. Demonstrating great faith, she humbled herself and asked only for the “leftover” blessings falling from her master’s table.

Jesus was thoroughly satisfied because the woman recognized the true significance of the moment—that He had opened the gate for the nations, and the Gentiles needed to respond by entering through genuine faith. Affirming her profound spiritual insight, Jesus addressed her as “Woman,” a term of respect indicating her full acceptance into the family of God.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:
How might we be holding onto cultural, social, or personal prejudices that prevent us from extending love and grace to others? When God seems silent or difficult to understand, does our faith drive us to persevere in prayer like the Canaanite woman? Are we willing to approach God with deep humility, trusting that even the smallest portion of His grace is more than enough for us?

Jesus and the Death of John the Baptist

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

August 2, 2026

Matthew 14:13–21

The miracle of the multiplication of the loaves appears in all four Gospels, yet Matthew presents his account with a distinct contextual emphasis. He situates the miracle immediately after the execution of John the Baptist. Is this merely a coincidence, or is something deeper at play?

From the Gospel of Luke, we know that John the Baptist was a relative of Jesus. Yet beyond family ties, John was the great prophet who prepared the way for Israel’s Messiah by preaching repentance. John recognized Jesus as “the greater one” (Luke 3:16) and as “the Lamb of God” (John 1:29), while Jesus acknowledged John as the greatest born of women (Matthew 11:11). Their connection was not merely familial; it was a profound spiritual bond. When Jesus received the sad news of John’s unjust execution, He naturally felt deep grief—not only for His kinsman, but for a faithful prophet of God.

Upon hearing the news, Jesus withdrew to a desolate place to be alone and to mourn. In doing so, He revealed His genuine humanity and taught us the value of grieving. Grief is not something to be avoided or suppressed, but rather acknowledged and embraced. It is a natural human process for processing profound loss.

However, the Gospel story does not end in solitary grief. Hearing of Jesus’ presence, crowds of people followed Him. Looking upon them, Jesus saw their ailments and burdens. Moved with compassion, He began to heal their sick. As evening approached, the disciples asked Jesus to send the crowd away to buy food. Jesus had another plan: He instructed His disciples to feed the crowd themselves. Initially overwhelmed by the massive throng, the disciples thought the task impossible given their meager supply of five loaves and two fish. Yet their willingness to offer what little they had was enough for Jesus to perform a historic miracle.

Jesus’ choice to serve and feed the people was not an escape from His grief, but an expression of it. His compassion for the suffering stemmed directly from His own sorrow. Loving John deeply meant experiencing profound emotional pain at his death, and embracing that pain expanded His capacity for empathy. Etymologically, the word compassion derives from the Latin roots cum (“with”) and passio (“suffering”)—literally meaning “to suffer with.” Jesus was able to enter into the people’s suffering precisely because He had embraced His own. By directing His disciples to feed the crowd, Jesus revealed the true transformative potential of grief: suffering need not turn us inward, but can instead move us toward active love and service.

Every one of us experiences suffering in various ways. God permits us to go through hardship not because He delights in pain, but because suffering can expand our capacity to love—especially toward those whose burdens are heavier than our own. In Christ, even the painful chapters of life are not wasted; they are transformed into instruments of love, service, and holiness.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

How can we allow our own personal grief or suffering to open our hearts to the pain of others, rather than turning us inward? What small resources or “loaves and fish” do we currently possess that we can offer to God to help serve those around us? How can we transform the difficult or painful experiences in our lives into active expressions of love and compassion for others?

The Scribes of the Kingdom

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

July 26, 2026

Matthew 13:44-52

At the end of Chapter 13, Jesus speaks about “the scribe of the Kingdom.” But who were the scribes?

In the time of Jesus, scribes (translated from the Greek grammateis) were professional copyists of the Torah. Being able to read and write when most people were illiterate was a distinct privilege that placed scribes in positions of honor. Because they spent most of their lives reading and copying the manuscripts of the Torah, they were extremely well-versed in the Mosaic Law. Given these advantages, they were expected to impart their knowledge to those who lacked access to written texts. As teachers of the Law, they also interpreted the Scriptures and explained how to apply them to daily life. The Gospels depict scribes in a nuanced light. At times, they appear as opponents of Jesus (as seen in Matthew 9:1–8, Matthew 12:38–42, and Matthew 15:1–20). On other occasions, however, they are portrayed favorably (such as in Mark 12:28–34 and Matthew 8:19).

Returning to Chapter 13, Jesus speaks specifically about the scribes of the Kingdom. To understand who they are, we must look at the context of the chapter. Throughout Matthew 13, Jesus teaches His apostles through parables and explains how to interpret them. At the conclusion of this instruction, Jesus asks His disciples whether they have understood everything. When they reply affirmatively, He says, “Therefore every scribe who has been instructed in the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old” (Mat 13:52). In this context, the term “scribes of the Kingdom” primarily refers to Jesus’ apostles, who received direct formation from Him regarding His teachings and their proper interpretation. Many of the apostles were uneducated and did not possess the formal literacy typical of traditional scribes. Nevertheless, Jesus chose to call them “scribes” because they would ultimately carry out the essential functions of a scribe: teaching and interpreting the Scriptures—especially by illuminating the Old Testament through the lens of Jesus’ life and ministry. Even more profoundly, the apostles would “write” their faith through their lives, ultimately offering up their very existence as witnesses to Christ.

While the “scribes of the Kingdom” initially referred to the apostles, the concept extends beyond them. Because the overseers and bishops of the early Church succeeded the apostles, they inherited this scribal role. Today, bishops act as “heads of households” who hold the primary responsibility to teach God’s Word within their dioceses. Furthermore, every believer is called to be a scribe of the Kingdom within their own family and community. A husband is called to share God’s wisdom with his wife, and parents are tasked with passing the true faith on to their children. To continuously bring forth both the old and the new from our “storeroom,” we must all remain dedicated students of our True Master.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How well are we actively learning from our True Master so that we have rich insights, both old and new, to share with others? In what concrete ways can we act as “scribes of the Kingdom” within our own families, workplaces, and communities? Are we willing to “write” our faith through our daily choices and sacrifices, just as the early apostles did with their lives?