The Holy Spirit and the Sacrament of Confirmation

The Sixth Sunday of Easter [A]

Acts 8:5-8, 14-17

May 10, 2026

The Sacrament of Confirmation is arguably the most underappreciated and misunderstood of the seven Sacraments. Yet, why do we fail to appreciate this sacrament? Does it even mention in the Bible? And, how does the sacrament reveal the secrets about the Holy Spirit?

We often struggle to value it because it lacks the immediate, visible impacts in our lives, yet its foundations are deeply biblical. In the Acts of the Apostles, specifically chapter 8, we see Philip the Deacon preaching and baptizing in Samaria. When the Apostles Peter and John arrived, they prayed for the converts to receive the Holy Spirit, as the Spirit had not yet fallen upon them. This ancient narrative confirms that since the time of the Apostles, a distinct sacrament existed specifically to impart the presence and gifts of the Holy Spirit, a ministry uniquely tied to the authority of the Apostles.

Continuing this tradition, the Church recognizes Bishops as the successors of the Apostles and the ordinary ministers of the sacrament. The name “Confirmation” is used because the Catholic Church teaches that the graces received here strengthen and solidify the initial grace of Baptism. While Baptism is viewed as a spiritual birth, Confirmation serves as a passage into spiritual adulthood. It is designed to equip the believer for their mission in the world and provide the necessary strength for spiritual warfare against the forces of darkness.

Despite its importance, Confirmation is often less popular than other sacraments because it doesn’t dramatically change a person’s external lifestyle or status, unlike Matrimony or Holy Orders. Furthermore, because it is only received once, it lacks the frequent reinforcement we find in the Eucharist or Penance. Many modern Christians also mistakenly equate spiritual growth with emotional sensations. When people do not feel “emotionally touched,” hear God’s voices, or experience spectacular gifts during the prayers, we are often tempted to perceive the sacrament as unexciting or stagnant.

However, St. Luke’s account in the Bible suggests that the Holy Spirit does not always work through spectacular displays. After Peter and John laid hands on the Samaritans, there was no mention of extraordinary fireworks, reminding us that the Spirit often works quietly and gradually. Through Confirmation, we receive an increase in the seven gifts: Wisdom, Understanding, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord. These gifts allow us to align our lives with God’s will even during trials. The true evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work is found in small, faithful acts—choosing to attend Mass when it feels boring, remaining loving during marital difficulties, or serving others without seeking praise. These are the quiet signs that the Holy Spirit through the sacrament is truly transforming the souls.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How often do I equate the strength of my faith with how “emotional” or “excited” I feel during prayer? How might I refocus on the quiet, steady growth the Holy Spirit provides? If Baptism is my spiritual birth and Confirmation is my entry into spiritual adulthood, in what specific areas of my life am I being called to move away from “infant” faith and take on the responsibilities of a mature Christian?

Our Place in Heaven

Fifth Sunday of Easter [A]

May 3, 2026

John 14:1-12

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells His disciples not to be troubled. He urges them to have faith in God and in Him, explaining that He is going to the Father’s house to prepare a place for them. What does this mean?

To get a better context, we can look at the previous chapter, John 13. After washing His disciples’ feet, Jesus made two prophecies: first, that one of His disciples would betray Him, and second, that Simon Peter—the leader among the apostles—would deny Him not once, but three times. These were certainly not happy predictions. Knowing their beloved teacher would be betrayed and disowned shook the hearts of the disciples. These predictions also cast doubt on the continuation of Jesus’ movement and, even worse, threatened to put an end to their hope in Him as their expected Messiah.

Knowing their anxieties, Jesus assures them that the terrible things about to befall them are not the end. Indeed, these prophecies must take place, and He will endure His passion and crucifixion, but it is all part of God’s plan to show His love for us. Furthermore, Jesus sees His suffering and death as “going back to the Father’s house.” The end of His earthly life, however painful and humiliating, is never a defeat. It is like a king gloriously returning to his kingdom after a difficult journey. This is our first piece of good news: even though we experience difficulties and suffering in life, God is in control. In fact, God allows these things to happen for our ultimate good. As St. Paul says, “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him…” (Rom 8:28).

Moreover, Jesus assures the disciples that He does not simply return to His Father’s house, but also goes to prepare a place for them. The Father’s kingdom is no longer shut, but open to those who believe in Jesus. The Church teaches that before Jesus’ coming, no single soul was able to enter heaven because of the sin of Adam. Even the just souls, like Moses and Elijah, had to wait at the gates of heaven until Jesus came, opened them, and prepared a place for them.

However, there is something even more important than our place in heaven. Jesus says that He will return to His disciples and take them with Him, so that where Jesus is, His disciples may also be. Heaven is not just a place to stay; ultimately, it is living with Jesus. True heaven is not merely about a location, but a relationship with Jesus.

This is our second piece of good news. Heaven is not only an afterlife reality, but something we can experience in this earthly life. If we continue to grow in our friendship with Jesus—through prayer and the sacraments, following His commandments, and avoiding a sinful life—we are already living in heaven. What is even more amazing is that even if we are enduring a lot of problems in this world, we can continue growing in our friendship with Jesus. Even when we are sick and in pain, we can continue to pray and unite our suffering to His. Even when we are struggling with our relationships, and others leave us alone, we can be sure Jesus is with us. Our true place in heaven is at the heart of Jesus.

Rome

Guide questions:
What anxieties or worries do I need to hand over to Jesus today? How am I actively growing my friendship with Jesus in my everyday life? Can I trust that God is working for my good, even in a current struggle or difficulty I am facing?

Sheep Shepherding another Sheep

Fourth Sunday of Easter [A]

April 26, 2026

John 10:1-10

Living in a modern and secular world, we are often confronted with the reality that those closest to us—our children, relatives, and friends—no longer believe that religion and religious activities are important. How do we respond to this with love, and how does Jesus, our Good Shepherd, provide an answer to this difficult situation?

First, we must recognize the source of our suffering. We want the best for those we love, and nothing is better for them than eternal life. Knowing that they live far from Jesus endangers their souls, and this is deeply painful for us. This awareness is crucial; it shows that our concern stems from genuine love, not a desire to control.

Since love inspires us, we must approach them with love. The first step is to understand that their rejection of religious life stems from unique reasons, which are often hidden. Some people reject religion because they believe that faith contradicts common sense, making it irrelevant in the modern world. Others no longer go to church because of painful past experiences with church leaders. Some simply want to maintain a “free” lifestyle that does not align with biblical teachings, while others are influenced by their environment or friends who have led them into misunderstandings about faith.

Furthermore, we can learn from the way the Good Shepherd cares for His sheep. The Good Shepherd guides with a firm voice, but never through coercion or violence. He walks ahead of His flock, leading by example. He cares for each of His sheep, knowing them by name and recognizing their unique characteristics. When danger approaches, He proves His love not by sacrificing the sheep, but by sacrificing His own life.

Like the Good Shepherd, we need to show care by listening to their stories and struggles. We must not come to judge, but to be respectful and trusted partners in dialogue. At the same time, we need to remain firm in our convictions, confident in the truth of our faith, and aware of the dangers of worldly desires. Most importantly, we must lead by example. We become living witnesses of our faith when we practice what we preach. Ultimately, we demonstrate that our faith is meaningful because it inspires us to stand by them when life becomes difficult, ready to sacrifice our time, energy, and even our lives for them.

Some may need logical answers about our faith, which means we must continue to learn more about it ourselves. Others need healing from past wounds, and we must be true companions on their journey home. All of this requires us to sacrifice our time, energy, and even our lives. Yet, we do so willingly because we truly love them and desire their eternal salvation.

Finally, we must remember that we are not the Good Shepherd; we are His sheep trying to shepherd other sheep. In the end, we may face failure, and it may feel as though our sacrifices are in vain. However, this must not cause us to lose hope. Instead, we must surrender everything to the true Good Shepherd. We have heard His voice, and by faithfully following Him, we will find our rest.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guiding Questions:

Am I truly listening to understand their unique struggles, or am I quick to judge and want to control? Do my daily actions reflect the compassion of the Good Shepherd? Do my patience, empathy, and willingness to sacrifice show those I love the positive and life-giving impact of my faith? When my efforts to help someone seem to fail and I feel discouraged, do I allow myself to fall into despair, or do I actively choose to entrust them to the true Good Shepherd?

Easter and God’s Mercy

Second Sunday of Easter [A]

April 12, 2026

John 20:19-31

On the Second Sunday of Easter, we celebrate the Sunday of Divine Mercy. But what exactly is mercy? Why did the Church choose the Second Sunday of Easter for this feast? And how do our readings teach us about acts of mercy?

To understand mercy, we first need to know the meaning of the virtue of justice. Justice means giving someone what is due to them. To be merciful, however, means giving someone far beyond what they are due. If we correctly answer 5 out of 10 questions on a test, we deserve a 5 as our mark—that is justice. Yet, if our teacher decides to add two extra points to our grade, that goes beyond what is due to us; that is mercy. From a divine perspective, God does not owe us anything. We cannot demand anything from Him. Therefore, everything we have is a free gift born of His mercy: our lives, our talents, our families, our friends, and our wealth, to name just a few.

Why choose the Second Sunday of Easter? This feast was established relatively recently by Pope John Paul II on April 30, 2000, during the canonization of St. Faustina Kowalska. His decision was based on private revelations given to St. Faustina, in which Jesus expressed His desire for the Second Sunday of Easter to be celebrated as Divine Mercy Sunday. But why did Jesus specifically want the Second Sunday?

The answer lies in today’s Gospel. A week after the resurrection, Jesus once again appeared to His disciples. Specifically to Thomas, who doubted the resurrection, Jesus showed Himself and His wounds. Thomas became the recipient of God’s mercy. He did not have the right to demand proof; in fact, he deserved to be reprimanded, as he had abandoned Jesus at a critical moment. Yet, Jesus forgave his cowardice and unreasonable demands, showing him the proof of His limitless love: “I die for you that you may live.”

We are often like Thomas and the other disciples. God has given us everything we have, yet we still betray Him, trade Him for worldly things like money or fame, and run from Him when life gets tough. Furthermore, instead of asking for forgiveness, we frequently demand more from the Lord. We are incredibly blessed that, despite our ungratefulness, Jesus still shows us the proof of His love and remains deeply merciful to us.

As people who have received such profound mercy, we are called to be merciful in turn. But how? We can learn from the lives of the first believers in Jerusalem. They sold their properties so they could help one another. Helping our brothers and sisters in need is a profound act of mercy. Yet, this act of sharing must be based upon the teachings of the Apostles, rooted in communal life, and draw its strength from the breaking of the bread and prayer. In the Eucharist, we find the core reason why we must be merciful: God has shown us mercy by giving us His Son, Jesus, for our salvation. Jesus, in turn, has been merciful to us by giving up His body and blood for our sanctification. Without uniting ourselves to Jesus’ mercy, our own acts of mercy are empty and self-seeking. Only in Jesus do our acts of mercy find true fulfillment and perfection.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

When have I experienced God’s mercy in my own life, receiving blessings or forgiveness that went far beyond what I felt I deserved? In what ways do I sometimes act like Thomas—doubting God’s presence or demanding proof when life gets difficult? What is one tangible, concrete way I can show mercy to someone in need this week? How can I better unite my daily actions with Jesus’s sacrifice?

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?