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The Story of Jesus

Easter Sunday [A]

April 5, 2026

Matthew 28:1-10

We naturally like stories, especially those filled with drama and unpredictable plot twists. Knowing this, God sent His only begotten Son to become man and enter into our human history. Then, under the influence of the Holy Spirit, His disciples narrated and wrote Jesus’ life into a story. It has become the greatest story ever told. Yet, why do we like to hear stories, and why the story of Jesus is best of all?

We are creatures of language. Through words, we not only communicate with each other, but also find meanings in our lives. In ancient time, people narrated mythical stories to make sense of various natural phenomena like rain, thunder, and stars. In modern time, we have science to explain these, but unless these scientific theories are elaborated like a story, they will not be easily understood, let alone attractive.

We are not only using stories to make sense our surroundings, but also to understand who we are. This is why we are naturally attracted to a good story in well-written novels, well-executed theatrical performances or films, because we can easily participate in them. Good stories make us laugh, cry and even angry, despite knowing that we are not really part of the story. Yet, the greatest stories are those who answer the meanings of our lives. We learn from the values each character holds, words they say and actions they do or fail to do.

One time, I decided to read a classic novel “The Brothers Karamasov” by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Initially, I was discouraged by its size, more than 800 pages. Yet, when I began to read, I was drawn into it, not only because unexpected plot, but also each character seems to be truly alive. I was particularly attracted to Alyosha Karamazov, young man who struggles to find God when his beloved mentor, father Zosima passed away.

Going back to the story of Jesus, the reason His story is the most powerful story of all time is that Jesus’ life is filled with the most amazing plot twists: He was crucified, yet rose from the death, was betrayed, yet came back ever stronger, and was pushed to the lowest place, yet returned in glory. Furthermore, his life and words teach us the deepest meanings and ultimate destiny of our lives. His teachings like the parables, the sermons on the Mount, the Law of Love remain the eternal principles that guide us into the true happiness.

Finally, the story of Jesus is the greatest story of all because for those who have faith, the story of Jesus becomes a reality in our lives. Living in this world, we cannot but endure pains and sufferings, and ultimately, we are going to die. However, when we are faithful to Jesus, even the worst things that befall us will never have the final say in our lives. Even the darkest hours in our lives, we will make sense as we participate in His cross. As St. Paul said, “Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will be also live with Him (Rom 6:8).”

Blessed Easter!

Leuven

Valentinus Bayu, OP

Jesus and the Crowd

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion (A)

March 29, 2026

Matthew 21:1-11 and Matthew 26:14 – 27:66

Palm Sunday is a unique moment in the Catholic liturgy where we hear two readings from the Gospel. The first is the story of Jesus’ triumphant entrance into the city of Jerusalem, and the second is the Passion Narrative. Both accounts come from Matthew. We often hear that these two stories are connected by the “crowd.” It is frequently assumed that the people who initially welcome and cheer Jesus as king are the very same people who later shout, “Crucify Him!” Yet, is this true? Or is it just an unrealistic drama to spice up Jesus’ story?

To answer this question, we need to look back at the time of Jesus and understand what was happening in Jerusalem. In first-century Israel, the Jewish people were living under Roman occupation, and life was very difficult for ordinary citizens. The desire for liberation from Roman rule was incredibly strong, drawing inspiration from the Old Testament where God promised a Messiah (the anointed one) to lead them to freedom.

When Jesus appeared, He came as one possessing divine power. He taught the truth with authority and performed unprecedented miracles. Naturally, this raised the excitement of many Israelites, and people started to follow Him, hoping He was the long-awaited Messiah. As Jesus marched toward Jerusalem for His Passion, the Jewish festival of Passover was also approaching. This feast commemorates Israel’s liberation from Egypt (Exodus 12), and during this time, Jews from all over traveled to Jerusalem on pilgrimage.

We can imagine that as Jesus drew closer, more and more pilgrims recognized Him and joined His followers. The people’s expectations were further fueled by Jesus’ unmatched miracle of restoring sight to two blind men in Jericho, not far from Jerusalem (Matthew 20:29-34). As Jesus entered the city riding a donkey, the throng of people who had been following Him began to shout, “Hosanna to the Son of David.”

So, were the people who welcomed Jesus the same ones who demanded His death? I believe these were two different groups. Those who supported Jesus were fellow pilgrims, mostly from outside Jerusalem. In contrast, those who demanded Jesus’ execution were likely Jerusalem elites and some locals whose businesses had been disrupted by Jesus and His followers. In fact, the trial was conducted hastily in the early morning, suggesting it was well-orchestrated. Matthew also notes that the chief priests and elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas’s release (Matthew 27:20), indicating that this specific crowd was manipulated to follow the Jewish leaders’ plan.

However, despite the existence of two distinct groups, the possibility of individuals switching sides remains. Some of those who initially supported Jesus may have eventually caved and condemned Him. Yet, some of those who approved of Jesus’ crucifixion may have ultimately returned to His side. A good example is Peter, Jesus’ core disciple, who denied Him when He was arrested but returned to Him after the resurrection.

As we enter Holy Week, we follow Jesus in our own lives. When are we like the people who shouted, “Hosanna”? What are those moments when we ardently follow Jesus? When are we like those who shouted, “Crucify Him”? When are the times we fail Him and even rebel against Him? When are we like the weak Peter, running from God or hiding? And when are we like the renewed Peter? What are those moments when we allow God to restore us again?

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Jesus’ Tears

5th Sunday of Lent [A]

March 22, 2026

John 11:1-45

The Fifth Sunday of Lent reveals one of the most profoundly emotional moments for Jesus in the Gospel of John. Typically, John depicts Jesus as solemn and possessing a majestic composure, rarely revealing His inner psychological state. Yet, in Chapter 11, we are granted a glimpse into the depths of Jesus’ humanity.

When Jesus arrived in Bethany to visit his friend Lazarus, who had just passed away, Lazarus’s sister Martha greeted Him first. She expressed that had Jesus come earlier, her brother would not have died. Jesus assured Martha that He is the resurrection and the life. Martha professed her faith in Him, and for a moment, everything seemed peaceful. This tranquility, however, did not last. Shortly after, Mary came to Jesus, echoing her sister’s words. But she fell at His feet, weeping alongside those who had accompanied her. John the Evangelist notes that Jesus was “deeply moved in spirit” and “troubled.” As they led Jesus to Lazarus’s tomb, He could no longer contain His sorrow, and He began to weep.

Why did Jesus express such strong emotion? The Jews who witnessed it noted, “See how He loved him.” Jesus loved Lazarus, Martha, and Mary deeply; in losing His friend, He mourns and weeps. Jesus exhibits the very human reaction many of us experience when we lose someone we hold dear. The question, then, is this: if Jesus knew perfectly well that He had the power to raise Lazarus from the dead, why did He allow Himself to be so overwhelmed by grief?

Through this touching narrative, Jesus teaches us a profound truth. Humanly speaking, feeling deep sorrow and mourning is our natural way of coping with the painful loss of a loved one. Without this grief, we would never truly understand what it means to love and be loved—to hold someone precious and to be precious to them. God, as the author of our lives, recognizes this natural process in our humanity. Thus, in His infinite wisdom, He chooses not to remove this pain, but rather to sanctify it. But how? While the Lord will not raise someone from the grave every day, He assures us that He mourns and weeps with us. Jesus’ first coming into the world was not meant to immediately erase our tears and agonies, but to fill them with His presence, thereby making them holy.

One of the most difficult moments in my life as a priest is preaching at a funeral Mass. Sometimes, a grieving loved one will ask me, “Why did the Lord take him now?” Honestly, I do not always know what to say. I often wish I had the perfect answer, or even the miraculous gift to raise the dead. Yet, I have gradually come to realize that my presence there is not to solve their problems or erase their profound loss. I am there to be with them, to mourn with them, and, through the Eucharist, to bring Jesus into their mourning. When they have Jesus with them, even in the most painful moments of their lives, they can offer their grief to God as a pleasing and holy sacrifice.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How does knowing that Jesus openly wept for His friend change the way we view our own moments of grief and vulnerability? If deep mourning is a natural reflection of profound love, how might we invite the Lord to be present in—and make holy—a painful loss in our own life? How can we offer our mourning relatives or friends a comforting, Christ-like presence?

King David

Fourth Sunday of Lent [A]

March 15, 2026

1 Samuel 16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a

Continuing our journey through the great figures of the Old Testament, the Fourth Sunday of Lent brings us to King David.

David is undoubtedly one of the most pivotal characters in the biblical canon. He was a shrewd warrior who defeated the bigger, stronger and more experienced Goliath with a single sling stone (1 Sam 17:45-47). As a brilliant military strategist, he was victorious in nearly every campaign (2 Sam 8:6), and as a charismatic statesman, he successfully unified the twelve tribes of Israel (2 Sam 5). Furthermore, David demonstrated profound mercy, famously refusing to harm King Saul despite having the opportunity to do so (1 Sam 24:6). Finally, we remember him as the “sweet singer of Israel,” the inspired poet whose Psalms (such as 23 and 51) we continue to recite today.

However, despite these unrivaled achievements, David’s story starts with a humble beginning. As the youngest son of Jesse from the small village of Bethlehem, David was initially overlooked by Samuel, the prophet. Samuel’s human eyes were fixed on David’s elder brothers, who possessed more impressive physical statures and military experience. Yet, God sees what man does not; He chose the inexperienced shepherd boy. Upon his anointing, the Spirit of the Lord rushed upon David (1 Sam 16:13), and from that moment forward, his success was a testament to God’s favor.

Unfortunately, David’s string of successes eventually birthed a sense of pride. He began to believe he was invincible, acting as though he were above everyone. This hubris led to his fall into lust with Bathsheba and the subsequent calculated murder of her husband, Uriah (2 Sam 11). This grave sin necessitated a stern rebuke from the prophet Nathan. Later, David erred again by conducting a census—likely to measure his own military might rather than trusting in divine protection. This act of pride forgotten that victory comes from the Lord alone, leading to divine judgment (2 Sam 24). In both instances, however, David’s deep love for God was revealed through his sincere repentance, recognizing his humble beginning. Sadly, as king, his personal failings inevitably brought consequences upon his family and the nation.

The life of David offers us a vital spiritual lesson. Like him, we all begin from a place of humility and weakness. Any “success” we achieve—be it professional advancement, physical health, or flourishing relationships—is fundamentally a gift from God. This is equally true of our spiritual lives. Our ministries and the fruits of our prayer are movements of the Spirit, not personal trophies.

Yet, pride often poisons the heart. We begin to credit our own “genius” or effort for our successes, clinging to our achievements and demanding recognition. This is the threshold of our downfall. When we focus solely on maintaining our status, we become paralyzed by the fear of failure. We lose our spirit of gratitude and replace it with complaint and resentment. We may even find ourselves manipulating others to preserve our image of success, leading to a state of spiritual misery.

Like David, we are reminded that only true repentance can restore our orientation toward the Lord, who is the sole author of our salvation. Only when we remember our humble beginning and recognize God’s role in our lives, we find true happiness.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

How does God bring us high fro our humble beginning? When we experience a “win” in our career, family, or ministry, do we instinctively offer a prayer of gratitude, or do we begin to rely on your own “genius”? When we face failure or realize we have manipulated a situation to look better than we are, do we hide in your misery, or do we have the courage to let God rebuke and restore us?

Abraham the Father of Faith

2nd Sunday of Lent [A]

March 1, 2026

Gen 12:1-4

The first readings of the Sundays of Lent offer us a glimpse into the history of salvation, particularly within the Old Testament. Last Sunday, we encountered Adam and Eve, reflecting on their creation and their eventual fall from grace. Today, we meet Abraham, the first patriarch. But why Abraham?

Abraham’s original name was Abram, which literally means “the exalted father.” For much of his life, this name served as a source of irony, perhaps even mockery, since he was elderly and childless. How could he be an “exalted father” with no children to exalt him? It was then that the Lord appeared to Abram. At seventy-five years old, he received a staggering command: leave his homeland for a faraway territory. With this command came a promise: he would become the father of many nations, and through him, blessings

At first glance, this calling might have seemed like another cruel joke in Abram’s life. Though childless, he lived comfortably among his kinsmen and was set to die in his homeland under the protection of familiar “gods.” Yet, the Lord called him out of his comfort zone and into unknown territories where danger and misery often lurked. We cannot know exactly what was in Abram’s mind, but we know his actions: he chose to trust a God he barely knew and put his life on the line. His kinsmen might have thought him delusional or senile. Little did he know that his decision would not only change his life but transform the future of humanity.

Following the Lord is rarely a breeze. While Abram was blessed with great wealth, vast livestock, and hundreds of retainers, even defeating four kings with his 318 trained men (Gen 14). he still lacked a promised heir. When he reached the age of ninety-nine, God changed his name to Abraham, meaning “father of many nations.” Yet, he continued to wait for the one thing that would make that title a reality. Finally, when Abraham was 100 years old, Sarah gave birth to Isaac (Gen 21:5).

However, the story did not end with a simple “happily ever after.” God eventually asked for something unthinkable: that Abraham sacrifice his only son, Isaac (Gen 22). Just as he had obeyed in the beginning, Abraham obeyed again. Fortunately, an angel prevented him from harming Isaac, and the Lord blessed Abraham even more for his faithfulness.

Abraham passed away at the age of 175. While he had other sons, one through Hagar and six through Keturah, their numbers still fell short of the literal “many nations” promised to him. Abraham closed his eyes without seeing the full extent of those nations, yet he did not complain or grow bitter. Abraham was not perfect. At one point, he was dishonest with Pharaoh and acted cowardly by giving up his wife, Sarah, to the King of Egypt (Gen 12:10-20). Yet, despite his imperfections, he fundamentally believed that God would fulfill His word. From Abraham came the Israelites, and from the Israelites, we received Jesus.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:
In your life right now, what is the “homeland” or comfort zone God might be asking you to leave behind to follow Him more fully? Have you ever felt that God’s promises for your life contradict your current reality? How do you maintain hope when your circumstances seem to “joke” at your faith? How does knowing that God uses imperfect, flawed people to transform the future of humanity change the way you view your own mistakes and shortcomings?

Clay of the Ground

1st Sunday of Lent [A]

February 22, 2026

Genesis 2:7-9, 3:1-7

Traditionally, the Gospel reading for the first Sunday of Lent is the story of Jesus in the wilderness for forty days, where He fasted and was tempted by Satan. However, in this reflection, we will look deeper into the first reading from the Book of Genesis.

The Church combines two stories in this first reading: the creation of Adam (Gen 2:7-9) and the fall of our first parents (Gen 3:1-7). In order to do this, the lectionary skips around 16 verses (Gen 2:10-25), omitting Adam’s activities in the Garden of Eden and the creation of Eve. I believe the reason is not purely practical (simply avoiding overly long reading), but rather that the Church wishes to show us a hidden truth that connects the two stories.

First, we must recognize that the story of the creation of Adam is not merely a biological lesson, but a profound theological truth. Adam was created from the dust of the ground (עפר מן־האדמהapar min ha-adama). We, as humans, are nothing but mere soil—fragile, dirty, and essentially worthless. In fact, there is a clear play on words in Hebrew to remind us of our lowly origin: the word Adam (the first man) is almost identical to the word for ground (Adama).

However, the Book of Genesis pushes further by pointing out that while we are nothing, God is everything; while we are powerless, God is omnipotent. Yet, despite the infinite gap between God and us, the author of Genesis reveals God’s immense love for humanity. Depicted as a divine artisan with His skillful hands and life-giving breath, God formed this worthless dust into one of His most refined creatures. Furthermore, God made us His co-workers in His Garden, entrusting us to care for the other creatures. We are who we are solely because of God’s love.

Moving to chapter 3, the serpent tempts Adam and Eve. His strategy is simple yet extremely effective. He claimed that God was not telling the truth and that God did not want Adam and Eve to be like Him, thus forbidding them to eat the fruit. The idea of being like God was extremely attractive, and pride began to corrupt their hearts. They desired to be like God without God, acting as His rivals rather than living as His servants. They forgot the most fundamental truth about themselves: they are nothing but dust, and everything good they have comes from God. Consequently, they fell.

By joining the stories of Adam’s creation and his fall, the Church teaches us that when pride poisons our hearts, we begin to ignore our humble origins and are doomed to fall. As St. John Chrysostom stated in a 4th-century homily: “[the story of Adam’s creation] is to teach us a lesson in humility, to suppress all pride, and to convince us of our own lowliness. For when we consider the origin of our nature, even if we should soar to the heavens in our achievements, we have a sufficient cause for humility in remembering that our first origin was from the earth.”

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

In what areas of my life do I forget my humble origins (“dust”) and fail to recognize that all my gifts, talents, and successes ultimately come from God? How does pride manifest in my daily choices? Do I sometimes try to be “like God without God” by seeking total control over my life, rather than trusting Him as His servant and co-worker? When I “soar to the heavens” in my earthly achievements, what practical practices can I adopt to stay grounded and remember my fundamental reliance on God’s love?

Jesus and the Law

Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

February 15, 2026

Matthew 5:17-37

Jesus makes it crystal clear that He came to fulfill the Law rather than abolish it. However, a deeper question remains: “Why is the Old Testament Law so vital that Jesus Himself felt bound to fulfill it?”

We often view laws and regulations as constraints that bind our freedom and limit our movement—something external imposed upon us. Yet, when we look at the bigger picture, we realize that laws are an integral part of almost all human communities. Even in the smallest contexts, such as the family, children obey their parents’ commands, even though they are often unwritten. Certainly, the larger and more complex a society becomes, the larger and more sophisticated the body of laws required.

Laws are necessary precisely because they guarantee the common good. By incentivizing those who contribute to society and punishing those who harm it, laws ensure the proper functioning and flourishing of the human community. Just as we use our minds to control our passions and govern ourselves toward genuine personal growth, we create laws to check our collective harmful behaviors and guide our society toward progress. Laws are not merely external impositions; they are the products of human reason designed to help us live better.

We can also view laws as tools to help us “domesticate” ourselves. Just as we domesticate wolves to transform them into dogs—taming their wildness to make them into helpful companions—so too do we subject our aggressive and violent natures to the rule of law to make ourselves into more mature individuals.

This brings us back to Jesus. While human minds are imperfect and therefore create imperfect laws, God’s mind is perfect and creates laws that are infallible (Ps 19:7). This is why Jesus clearly revealed His purpose: to fulfill God’s laws, not to abolish them. If human laws are designed to form us into better members of human society, then God’s laws are designed to form us into perfect men and women, ready for the Kingdom of Heaven.

However, Jesus also recognized that some regulations in the Old Testament were directed specifically at the ancient Israelites rather than at all people of all times. In fact, some laws, such as the regulation on divorce (Matt 5:31), were obviously enacted as a result of God’s concession to the hardness of human hearts.

Therefore, fulfilling the Law does not mean that Jesus simply endorsed all Old Testament regulations. Rather, He purified and re-taught them with greater clarity, specifically revealing the “heart” of the laws themselves. For instance, when Jesus reaffirmed the Ten Commandments, He pointed to the truth that killing and violence toward fellow human beings are rooted in the wrath within our own hearts. Unless we are able to control this internal anger, we are bound to harm others, leading to the destruction of life (Matt 5:21-22).

Ultimately, Jesus demonstrates that the Law is not a set of cold restrictions, but a path toward spiritual maturity and internal transformation. By fulfilling the Law, He invites us to move beyond mere outward obedience and instead embrace a heart aligned with the perfect love of God.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

Do I view God’s commandments as burdens that restrict my freedom, or as a loving pathway designed for my genuine growth and happiness? Jesus teaches that violence begins internally; what hidden anger or resentment am I holding onto that prevents me from having a truly pure heart?Am I merely following the rules to appear “good” on the outside, or am I allowing God’s Law to tame my nature and transform me for His Kingdom?

Purifying One’s Heart

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

February 8, 2026

Matthew 5:13-16

Continuing His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus reveals our identity as the “light of the world.” As such, our light must shine and be seen by others. Interestingly, only one chapter after this teaching, Jesus instructs His listeners: “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them” (Mt 6:1). At first glance, it may seem that Jesus is contradicting Himself. How are we to understand this?

While these instructions appear opposing, they are, in essence, complementary. The bridge between these two statements is intention: is the action meant to glorify the Lord or simply to seek personal glory? As Matthew 5:16 suggests, the motivation behind our good works is decisive. If we perform noble deeds to receive personal recognition, they lose their merit before the Lord. However, if we sincerely desire to lead people to God, our efforts truly please Him rather than men.

The Art of Discernment

Recognizing our true intentions is never a child’s play. It requires us to dwell in silence and reflect deeply on our actions and the motivations behind them. In the Catholic tradition, we call this spiritual process discernment; in our Dominican tradition, it is a vital part of contemplation. In modern scientific terms, this is meta-cognition—the act of “thinking about thinking.”

To practice this discernment, we can follow three simple steps:

  1. Seek the Virtue of Humility The ability to recognize our deepest intentions begins with God’s grace softening our hearts. Without humility, we may never consider that something might be “off” with our actions. Humility empowers us to face the unpolished parts of our humanity with contrition, leading to repentance. It acts as a sensor, detecting hidden motives driven by pride or self-interest.
  2. Ask Difficult Questions We must be attentive to our emotional reactions. Ask yourself: “When others ignore or fail to appreciate my good deeds, do I feel sad, angry, or disappointed? Do I lose the motivation to continue?” If the answer is yes, the motivation may be self-centered. Another vital question is: “If these good works were taken away from me, would I feel deeply pained or resentful?” Such a reaction often indicates an unhealthy attachment, suggesting we view the work as “ours” rather than “the Lord’s.”
  3. Request the Purification of Intentions Once we become aware of our interior motivations, we should not be discouraged or stop doing good. Even if our intentions are mingled with selfish desires, God’s grace is constantly working to sanctify us. To purify your heart:
    • Be grateful for every opportunity to do good, whether the task is big or small, a success or a failure.
    • Redirect praise: When people appreciate your deeds, invite them to thank the Lord with you.
    • Embrace criticism: Be thankful for those who criticize you, as they can be instruments of your spiritual purification.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:
What are our good works we do for our families, our community and the Church? When others ignore or fail to appreciate my good deeds, do I feel sad, angry, or disappointed? Do I lose the motivation to continue? If these good works were taken away from me, would I feel deeply pained or resentful? Do I prioritize our ministries more than my family?

Beatitude: The Counter-Intuitive Path to Happiness

4th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

February 1, 2026

Matthew 5:1-12a

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount begins with the Eight Beatitudes. Pope St. John Paul II calls the Beatitudes the “Magna Charta of Christianity,” comparing them to the Ten Commandments of the Old Testament. He notes, “They are not a list of prohibitions, but an invitation to a new and fascinating life.” They are indeed an exciting invitation because they address the one fundamental desire we all share: happiness. However, as we read the Beatitudes, we realize that Jesus’ path to happiness is counter intuitive. Why is this?

We tend to believe that possessing wealth is a sign of God’s blessing and the means to our happiness. Yet, Jesus teaches, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” While Jesus speaks specifically of “poverty of spirit,” our eagerness to achieve major successes, accumulate wealth, and stay at the top often leads to health problems, mental exhaustion, and difficult relationships with our loved ones. Eventually, these pursuits wear down our spirits, and we find we are not truly happy.

We often think that laughter and “good vibes” are the surest signs of happiness, but Jesus says that the one who mourns will be comforted. Sometimes, we forget how to mourn when we lose something precious, such as a loved one. Instead, we try to run from grief by indulging in instant pleasures or endless scrolling, distracting ourselves with busy activities and overworking, or even blaming God. Yet, mourning helps us confront the truth of our fragile nature, rely more on God’s mercy, and ultimately find healing and comfort.

We normally perceive that through strength, aggression, and dominance, we can acquire whatever we desire. Jesus teaches exactly the opposite: the meek will inherit the land, the merciful will receive mercy, and the peacemakers will be called children of God. While this sounds counter-intuitive, when we look around, we realize that so many problems in our families, societies, and environments are caused by human greed, violent aggression, and vengeance. Only when we learn to be gentle, merciful, and peace-loving do we create peace not only within ourselves but also for the people around us.

Often, we unconsciously fill our hearts with ambitions to be the greatest, most powerful, and influential. We allow desires for pleasure and instant gratification to control us, but Jesus reminds us that only the pure in heart can see God. Hence, it is critical to be aware of what contaminates our hearts, to acknowledge these impurities, and to ask for God’s grace to purify them. In the Catholic tradition, this process is the examination of conscience and the confession of sins, through which God’s grace cleanses our hearts and reunites us with Him, the source of our happiness.

Finally, Jesus concludes the Beatitudes by positioning Himself as the endpoint of our happiness. Jesus is not just a wandering wise teacher promoting self-help principles for successful living, but the source of happiness itself. Unless we cling to Him and offer up our hearts to Him, our lives remain fruitless, and eternal happiness remains beyond our reach.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

Which worldly ambition/s is currently draining my energy, and how might letting go of it bring me more peace? When I feel hurt or overwhelmed, do I tend to numb the pain with distractions (like screens, busy work, or pleasure), or do I bring that grief honestly to God? Is there a conflict in my life where I am trying to “win” through dominance or aggression, rather than resolving it through gentleness and mercy? If I look at my daily habits, do they show that I am seeking happiness primarily in worldly achievements, or in a relationship with Jesus?

Peter and Matthew

3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

January 25, 2026

Matthew 4:12-23

We are currently journeying through Liturgical Year A, guided by the Gospel of Matthew. A striking feature of this Gospel is the high regard it holds for Simon Peter. But why is this so?

The fresco of St. Matthew the Evangelist in church Chiesa di Santa Maria in Aquiro

A good example is the account of Peter’s confession (Mt 16:13-20; Par: Mar 8:27-30; Luk 9:18-20). While the other Gospels mention Peter correctly identifying Jesus as the Messiah, only Matthew includes the unique blessing Jesus bestows upon him: the new name “Cephas” (Rock) and the authority of the keys to the Kingdom. Another instance is the story of Jesus walking on the water (Mt 14:22-33). While this event is also recorded by Mark (6.45-52) and John (6.15-21), only Matthew reveals Peter’s miraculous walk on the waves—even if he did take only a few steps before sinking and needing Jesus to save him (Mat 14:22-33).

Why does Matthew paint Peter in such a heroic light? If I may speculate, it is possible that Simon and Matthew were acquainted long before Jesus called them, as both were both from Capernaum. Since the Sea of Galilee was the property of the Roman Empire, fishermen were forced to pay heavy taxes to fish there. We can easily imagine: for years, Simon the Fisherman stood before Matthew the Tax Collector. Simon, smelling of fish and sweat, angrily handing over his hard-earned coins to Matthew, the collaborator, the traitor to his people. There was bad blood between them.

Matthew may have been wealthy, perhaps owning a large estate, but he was likely despised by many—some may have even wanted him dead. Deep down, Matthew likely found no peace, living in constant fear and isolation. So, when Matthew finally stood up to follow Jesus, he was walking into a lion’s den. He wasn’t just leaving his tax booth; he was joining a band of men who had every reason to despise him—especially the fishermen of Galilee.

How did he survive in that group? Why even did Matthew eventually write so highly of Simon? I believe it was because Simon Peter, the leader, chose to forgive him, like Jesus had. Peter must have looked past the history of taxes and extortion and embraced Matthew as a brother. Matthew found not just forgiveness of sins in Jesus, but a genuine friend in Peter. Perhaps Simon even encouraged the other apostles to accept Matthew because Jesus had called him.

In following Christ, Matthew found not only peace and the forgiveness of sins but also genuine friendship and a new family. Thus, the deep respect Matthew shows in his Gospel flows not only from Peter’s role as the leader Jesus appointed but also from their personal friendship.

This theory may only be proven when we meet them in heaven, but the lesson is urgent for us today. Jesus calls us personally, but never to isolation. He calls us into a family.

It is easy to love the Jesus we meet in prayer; it is much harder to love the “Matthew” or the “Peter” sitting next to us in the pew. It is not uncommon for us to fail to love our neighbors, refusing to forgive or welcome them. Perhaps unconsciously, we hold onto resentment, contributing to their decision to leave the Church. Yet, if Peter could embrace the man who once taxed him, surely, we can welcome those we find difficult. Let us not be the reason someone feels unwelcome in the Father’s house.

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Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Who is the ‘tax collector’ in my life, the one person in my family, community and Church I find hardest to forgive or welcome? Am I using my religious activities and devotion as a shield to avoid the messy work of loving the people sitting next to me? How do I bring people closer to Jesus?