First Sunday of Advent [December 2, 2018] Luke 21:25-28, 34-36
I have been in the Dominican formation for more than 12 years, and if I add four years of my minor seminary formation in Indonesia, it stretches to 16 years! It is insanely long that it occupies a more than half of my life. If we believe that everything has a purpose, I can ask myself, “what is the point of this extremely lengthy formation?” Why should I stay through thick and thin of formation life, through hours of assiduous study, through various programs, through daily rigor of prayer life?
The answer is surprisingly not difficult to see. It is because I want to become a priest and not any priest, it is a Dominican priest, and not only any Dominican priest, but it is a holy, faithful and holistically mature Dominican priest. It looks a simple answer, but every word in that answer carries certain enormous understanding and consequences. Having this so noble aim perhaps explains why the formation is incredibly extensive and long.
However, after passing through literally more than 5 thousand days in the formation, battling many tough examinations, attending countless prayers and spiritual exercise, involving myself in community activities, I am now standing before the threshold of the being-transforming rite what we call the ordination. Looking back, I am aware that I have reached that unprecedented improvements and growth. However, it is also true that I have come short in many aspects. I have committed untold stupidities, things that 14-year-old Bayu would not dare to contemplate. Thank God, that despite these shortcomings, I am still alive!
Honestly evaluating these things, I realize that I am not worthy of this ordination. I could boast some of my achievements, both in academic and non-academic fields. I could show myself as a brother who lives a religious life with certain regularity. I could boast the numbers of talks and lectures I prepared and gave. I could boast the Latin honor I received in every graduation. However, these things are just a bunch of straws!
However, why does this ordination remain within my reach despite my unworthiness? I realize that the vocation to the diaconate is a gift. In Philosophy expounded by St. Thomas Aquinas, I learn my essence is not my existence, meaning to exist is not even my right. Yet, the mere fact, I exist, means God, who is the source of all existence, has willed that I should live. Fundamentally my life is not right or a must, but a gift. My existence is an utter gift of God and so also my ordination. It is not a gift based on a merit system, otherwise, it is called a reward. It is not a gift I could demand because it is my right. It is neither a gift coming from my inheritance nor a gift that I could purchase in the Church. It is a free, absolutely free. God in the mystery of His infinite mercy and wisdom, has decided to grant me this beautiful gift. As I receive this gift despite my unworthiness, I cannot be forever grateful.
The gift does not only speak of me, the recipient. Ultimately it points to the giver. The gift represents how the giver values the recipient. The more valuable the gift is, the more precious the recipient to the giver. The ordinary gift may symbolize the goodwill of the giver, but the gift that hurts the giver is certainly extraordinary because it bears the sacrificial love of the giver. The gift of ordination reveals who my God is. He is God who sees beyond my weakness and flaws, who considers me as His precious own, who dares to share His own life and mission with me. Thus, I am forever grateful.
Br. Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP



In Jesus’ time, the scribes are the well-educated Jewish men who are expert in the Law of Moses. Some of them come from the wealthy families, and others hail from the priestly clan. Being able to teach and interpret the Law, they receive the respect and honor from the ancient Jewish society. Thus, ordinary Jews will greet them and prepare them the seats of honor in the synagogues and the banquets. Surely, there is no problem with receiving greetings and sitting as honor guests. Jesus Himself is often greeted as “Teacher” or “Rabbi”, and He attends the banquets as guest of honor (see Mar 14:3). The problem comes when some of the scribes possesses “narcissistic desire” and intentionally look for these privileges.
I am currently preparing for my ordination to the diaconate. It is a transitional stage before I become a priest of Jesus Christ. Despite the fact of being transitional, a deacon in itself is an important state in the life of the Church. Bishop Virgilio David, DD of Kalookan reminded the 15 newly-ordained Jesuit deacons in his homily last October that we shall not see a deacon as a mere stepping step toward higher states, like priests and bishops. It is the very core in the layers of concentric circles that make up the ordained ministries of the Church. The diaconate is not a lower rank but the core, without which both the offices of presbyters and bishops collapse. It is the foundation on which we build leadership in the Church. Yet, why do the deacons have to be placed at the core, and become the foundation?
I made my religious vow more than eight years ago with 12 other Dominican brothers. One of the most touching moments within this rite of the religious profession was when Fr. Provincial asked us, “What do you seek?” and we all prostrated, kiss the ground, and declared, “God’s mercy and yours!” After a brief moment, Fr. Provincial asked us to stand, and we began professing our vows before him. As I recall this defining moment in my life, I am pondering in my heart, “Why it has to be mercy?” Why do we not choose other Christian virtues? Why not fortitude, one of the cardinal virtues in the Christian tradition? Why not love, the greatest of all virtues?
“Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” This familiar adage comes from an English noble, Lord Acton in his letter to Bishop Mandell Creighton in 1887. Lord Acton observed that people who possessed absolute control over other persons were inclined to abuse their power and exploit their subjects. This happens throughout human history. Jesus and His disciples themselves witnessed these corrupt powerful leaders during their time and eventually, became victims of this corruption.
We discover at least three instances in the Bible in which Jesus explicitly expresses that He loves someone. The first instance is that Jesus loves the young rich man who seeks the eternal life (Mrk 10:21). The second is Jesus loves Martha, Mary, and Lazarus (Jn 11:5). The third is Jesus’ love for His disciples, especially His beloved disciple (Jn 13:34).
If there is one prayer that can change the course of world history, it is the earnest recitation of the holy rosary. In 1571, through the unceasing prayer of the rosary, a league of Christian nations called by Pope Pius V was able to stop the military advancement of the mighty Ottoman empire to western Europe in the Gulf of Patras, near Lepanto, Greece. In 1917, Our Lady appeared to three little children in Fatima, and one of her messages was to pray the rosary for the peace of the world. Through nation-wide recitation of the rosary, Austria was freed from the communist regime in 1955. In 1960, led by Catholic women marching the streets while praying the rosary, Brazil was also spared from communism.
When I was assigned to the hospital to serve as a chaplain, I witnessed the rise of diabetic cases as well as its terrifying effects on the patients. In simple term, diabetes is a condition in a person who can no longer naturally manage their blood sugar. In more serious cases, the body loses its natural ability to heal its wounds. In the beginning, it was a small open wound, yet since the body no longer heals, the infections set in, and this leads into gangrene or the death of the body’s tissues. I accompanied some patients who were struggling with this situation and witnessed how their fingers or even foot were darkened and deformed. When the ordinary treatment no longer worked, the amputation became the only merciful option as to prevent the spread of infections. As a chaplain, accompanying these patients was one of my toughest missions in the hospital.