Cross and the Tree of Life

Easter Sunday [C]

April 20, 2025

John 20:1-9

Some Church Fathers, like St. Ephrem the Syrian, St. Ambrose, and St. John Chrysostom, saw Jesus’ Cross as the new Tree of Life. The Tree of Life first appears in Genesis 2:9, where God planted it in the center of Eden alongside the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Though Scripture doesn’t elaborate, the Tree of Life’s central placement hints at its profound significance. Just as eating from the forbidden tree brought death, partaking of the Tree of Life would have granted eternal communion with God.

Adam, Eve, and their descendants could have lived forever with God—if only they had chosen the Tree of Life over the Tree of Knowledge. Tragically, they chose disobedience, bringing death upon themselves and all humanity. Banished from Eden, they were cut off from the Tree of Life, guarded by cherubim (Genesis 3:24). Without it, humanity was doomed to perish.

Yet we are not without hope. God so loved the world that He gave His only Son (John 3:16), and Jesus, in turn, loved us “to the end” (John 13:1), laying down His life so we may “have life abundantly” (John 10:10). For Jesus, the Cross was not an inescapable fate but a free choice of love. Though crucifixion was a brutal, shameful death, Christ transformed the Cursed Tree into the Blessed Tree of Life. He teaches us that by embracing our own crosses—and uniting them to His—we find true life and resurrection.

The cross is a reality in our lives that brings us sufferings. The cross manifests in two ways. Type-One Crosses is unavoidable suffering.  These are trials we don’t choose: betrayal, illness, financial struggles, or injustice. In these moments, we ask God for grace to endure, offering our pain in union with Christ’s Cross so it may bear spiritual fruit.

Type-Two Crosses is suffering born of love. These arise from commitment and sacrifice. Good example will a dedicated mother who commits to love her young baby. In the process, she is going to lose her time, energy, and other resources. Raising and protecting little child is both physically and mentally exhausted. She also forfeits her opportunity to live more freely, to earn more money or to enjoy life more. Outwardly, she is carrying her cross, but deep inside, she is fully alive and discovering a deeper meaning in her life, then just the world can offer. Her cross becomes the tree of life for her child. That’s the true resurrection.

Happy Easter!

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

What are our Type-One crosses? How do we face them? What are our Type-Two crosses? How do they bring life to others? Do our crosses—borne with love—become a Tree of Life for those around us?

Jesus, Not Our Ordinary King

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

April 13, 2025

Luke 19:28-40 and Luke 22:14–23:56

Palm Sunday is one of the most unique liturgical celebrations in the Church because it features two Gospel readings: Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem (Luke 19:28-40) and the Passion of Christ (Luke 22:14–23:56). These readings are not accidental; the Church intentionally pairs them to reveal their profound connection. But what is this relationship?

The first Gospel presents Jesus entering Jerusalem, the city of King David and his successors. His disciples follow closely while some residents welcome Him, proclaiming Him as king. Yet the Gospel clarifies that Jesus is no ordinary earthly ruler. He isn’t a militarily powerful king riding a stallion, but a humble sovereign on a donkey. He comes in the name of the Lord – not through royal lineage, political systems, or deception. He reigns not over a single nation, but over all creation, as even “the stones will cry out” to declare His kingship.

The second Gospel, the Passion narrative, further reveals Christ’s kingship. He doesn’t rule through violence but embraces it and bring it to an end on the cross. His kingdom operates not through terror but through law of love, sacrificing Himself so His people might be redeemed from sin and then live.

As we enter Holy Week, we’re invited to examine our identity as God’s people. Do we love our King or fear Him? If we truly love Him, we must learn to love as He loved. For two thousand years, countless martyrs have followed Christ’s example to the point of death. Even today in the 21st century, Christians face persecution: Nigerian priests abducted and murdered; Syrian Christian communities attacked and displaced; growing anti-Christian hostility in Israel.

Many of us live where faith can be expressed freely, yet these environments present different dangers – materialism, complacency, or cowardice in witnessing to Christ. We’re tempted to prioritize self over God, to love ourselves rather than Jesus

We consider St. Catherine of Siena’s example. During her time, the pope was residing in Avignon, France rather than Rome since he was afraid of dealing with people who opposed him there. However, rather than becoming a leader in faith and example of moral, the pope involved himself more in politics. She courageously went to Avignon and confronted Gregory XI, urging his return, “If you die in Rome, you die a martyr – but if you stay here, you die a coward.” Her actions flowed from radical love for Christ the King.

If Jesus is our King, how then shall we follow Him?

Guide Questions:

Do we truly love Jesus as our King? How does our love for Christ manifest practically? Are we prepared to profess our faith in challenging environments? Would we sacrifice for others out of love for Jesus? Are we ready to endure hardship as Christians?

Love and Betrayal

5th Sunday of Lent [C]

April 6, 2025

John 8:1-11

The story of the woman caught in adultery is one that frequently appears during Lent, especially in Year C. What lessons can we draw from this story?

At first glance, the narrative seems straightforward, yet it carries profound lessons worth unpacking. While we often associate it with God’s mercy and forgiveness—which is certainly true— there is more to it than what meets the eyes. In Scripture, adultery is not merely a grave sin; it also serves as a metaphor for idolatry, the gravest of spiritual betrayals. The prophet Hosea, for instance, was called to marry an unfaithful woman to symbolize God’s covenant with wayward Israel (Hosea 1–3). Ezekiel condemns Jerusalem and Samaria as “adulterous sisters” who chased after foreign gods (Ezekiel 23:30). Similarly, in the New Testament, James rebukes those who prioritize worldly “friendship” over God, calling them “adulterers.” (James 4:4).

This connection between adultery and idolatry reveals a deeper truth about our relationship with God. He did not create us as slaves driven by fear or as mindless robots bound by programming. Instead, He made us free and capable of love, desiring a relationship with us; one built on devotion rather than obligation. In mystical terms, God invites us to become His spiritual lovers, meaning we must love Him above all else and serve Him not out of fear, but out of deep, sincere love.

One of the earliest saints to speak of this “spiritual marriage” was St. Catherine of Siena. As young as six years old, she declared herself the bride of Christ, refusing earthly marriage to devote herself entirely to Jesus. At the age of 20, she experienced the spiritual marriage with Christ. And her profound love united her deeply to Christ to the point of sharing His wounds. She received stigmata around five years before she passed away.

The Church constantly teaches that we, collectively, are the Bride of Christ. Just as Eve was formed from Adam’s side while he slept, the Church was born from the pierced side of Jesus on the cross. Through baptism, we are reborn as members of His Church—His beloved. Through the Eucharist, we are nourished and sustained by His Body and Blood. Thus, our love for God must surpass all others, and even our love for family and friends should flow from our love for Christ.

This is why preferring anything above God constitutes spiritual adultery. The story of Jesus forgiving the adulterous woman illustrates both God’s unwavering love and mercy and our own unfaithfulness. Lent calls us back to our first and truest love—the only love that brings lasting happiness.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

How do we relate to God—as a servant obeying a master, or as a lover responding to Love Himself? Do we love God above all else? Do we love others for the sake of God? What unhealthy attachments to the world do we need to examine? How can we return to my true love—God alone?

The Prodigal Father

4th Sunday of Lent [C]

March 30, 2025

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

The story of the Prodigal Son is one of the most beautiful parables in the Gospel. Not only is it masterfully told, but it also teaches profound lessons—especially about parenthood.

Raising children is no easy task. Each child has a unique personality, and each can bring both joy and heartache. Many of us struggle to know how to be good parents. Some rely on the wisdom passed down from their own parents and elders, drawing from memories of how they were raised. Others turn to social media or self-proclaimed parenting “experts” for guidance. A few make the effort to consult real specialists—paediatricians, child psychologists, and educators. Yet, in the end, our children are not carbon copies of us. There will always be surprises beyond our control. All we can do is pray and hope they that will grow into their best selves.

The father in the parable offers us a powerful example. Despite doing his best to raise his two sons, he faced painful relationships with both. The younger son demanded his inheritance, severed ties, and left to live a sinful life. Imagine the father’s heartbreak—his son treated him as disposable, not as a parent. The elder son was no better. When his brother returned, he refused to enter the house and join the celebration. He never called his father “Father,” referring to his brother as “your son” instead of “my brother.” He saw himself not as a son but as a servant, even saying, “Look! All these years I’ve worked for you like a slave! Again, the father’s heart must have ached—he had raised a son, not a slave.

Yet, despite these struggles, the father never gave up. He never stopped hoping for his younger son’s return. When the prodigal son came home, humbled and expecting to be a servant, the father is the first one who saw his son, ran after him, and embraced him. He called him “my son” and not servant. When the first son refused to go home, the father sought him and pleaded with him, calling him “my son” and not servant, explaining that everything he has, belongs also to his son.

Many of us are blessed with children but endure strained relationships. Despite our best efforts, our children may not turn out as we hoped. Some, like the younger son, reject our love or wish us gone. Others, like the elder son, see us as taskmasters, not parents. Yet the parable calls us to love perseveringly, and till the end, because that is true parenthood. That is holiness.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

How do we raise our children well? What is the state of our relationship with them? Do we face difficulties in relating to our children? How do we respond to these challenges? Do we rely on God’s grace to guide us?

Moses

3rd Sunday of Lent [C]

March 23, 2025

Exodus 3:1-8a, 13-15

Moses is undoubtedly one of the greatest figures in the Old Testament. He led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, mediated the Sinaitic covenant, taught God’s laws, and even performed miracles. His life and teachings are recorded in four books of the Bible: Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. However, when we look deeper into his life, we discover that his story is not solely about greatness and success. Moses also had a dark past.

Moses was born into the Levite clan during a time when Egypt had ordered the killing of all Hebrew baby boys. To save him, his mother devised a plan to place him in a basket on the Nile River, where he was found by an Egyptian princess. She drew him from the water and named him “Moses” (Exodus 2:10). Though an Israelite by birth, Moses was adopted by the princess and raised as part of the royal family, enjoying the privileges reserved for Egyptian nobility.

Moses’ story might have had a “happy ending” had he not involved himself in the struggles of the Hebrew slaves. He could have lived comfortably as an Egyptian official, married an Egyptian woman, raised a family, and enjoyed a peaceful old age. However, he could not ignore the injustice inflicted on his people. In a moment of anger, he killed an Egyptian who was oppressing an Israelite. Moses believed he had hidden his crime, but he was wrong. When he tried to mediate a dispute between two Israelites, they revealed his secret, exposing him as a murderer. His comfortable life was shattered, and he was forced to flee Egypt. Once drawn from the water, Moses now found himself drowning in despair.

In Midian, Moses started a new life. He protected the daughters of a Midianite priest from harassing shepherds, and as a sign of gratitude, the priest welcomed him and gave him his daughter Zipporah in marriage. This marked Moses’ second life. Though not as luxurious as his life in Egypt, it was peaceful. Yet, when Moses was around 80 years old, God appeared to him in a burning bush and called him to be His instrument in liberating the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. Moses doubted himself deeply. After all, he was a murderer and a fugitive who had betrayed the kindness of the Egyptians, while distrusted his fellow Israelites. He was also old and content with his life in Midian.

Despite Moses’ dark and sinful past—and his current doubts—God insisted on choosing him. Why? Because Moses’ story is ultimately not about Moses but about God, who redeemed Israel through an imperfect man. Yet, Moses was not merely an instrument. As he journeyed with God, he also found his own redemption.

Like Moses, we are far from perfect. We are broken, struggling with sin and disordered attachments. We fail as parents, spouses, children, and friends. We hurt others and ourselves. We doubt our worth and often settle for less. Yet, God insists on bringing out the best in us and invites us to walk with Him to find redemption. In the end, we can only be grateful, for despite our brokenness and imperfections, God makes us beautiful.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

What do we remember about Moses?  Do we have something in common with Moses? If so, what is it? Do we have a dark past like Moses? Do we experience failures like Moses? Do we doubt God’s plan for us, as Moses did? What can we learn from Moses as he accepted God’s calling? 

Transfiguration and the Tent

2nd Sunday of Lent [C]

March 16, 2025

Luke 9:28b-36

The second Sunday of Lent presents the story of the Transfiguration, where Jesus is described as shining, literally becoming light itself. Two of the greatest figures from the Old Testament, Moses and Elijah, appeared and conversed with Jesus. Then, Peter made an interesting offer to Jesus: a tent. But why did Peter suddenly offer a tent?

The obvious reason might be that Jesus and His disciples had planned to pray, and they may have needed to stay on the mountain for a longer period. It’s possible that Jesus had instructed the three disciples to bring tents. Therefore, Peter’s offer should not surprise us, as they were likely already prepared with tents. The only difference is that the tents were now meant for Moses and Elijah, rather than for the disciples. But is there a deeper meaning to this offer beyond simply extending their stay on the mountain?

A tent is a temporary and portable dwelling, typically used when traveling. In ancient times, people travelled for various reasons, including trade, military campaigns, and pilgrimages. During these journeys, they did not have buses, cars, or airplanes. Land travel was mostly done on foot, and travellers often needed to rest, especially when far from nearby towns or villages. In such circumstances, tents were a necessity.

In the Old Testament, the Israelites journeyed from Egypt to Canaan and spent approximately forty years in the desert, living most of their lives in tents. However, among all the tents of Israel, there was one special tent at the center of the encampment: the tent where the Lord dwelt among His people. This was traditionally called the “Tabernacle.” The word “tabernacle” itself comes from Latin, meaning “tent,” and in Hebrew, the tent of the Lord is called מִשְׁכָּן  (miškān), which literally means “dwelling place” and is derived from the root שָׁכַן  (šākan), meaning “to dwell.” From this root, we get the word Shekinah (שְׁכִינָה), meaning “the Dwelling”—God’s presence among His people. God chose to dwell in the tent so that He could walk among His people, and the Israelites could come close to their God.

Now, returning to the Gospel, it seems that Jesus declined Peter’s offer of a tent, but in reality, He only postponed it. Jesus knew that one day, He would indeed dwell in a tent among His people. In the Catholic Church, the Lord walks with His people until the end of time as He is present in the Eucharist. We also have a “tent,” the Tabernacle, where the risen and transfigured Lord makes His temporary dwelling among us, allowing us to visit and be close to Him. However, we understand that this tent is only a temporary dwelling; His true dwelling is in heaven.

We must also remember that we are pilgrims in this world, pitching our tents here temporarily. We may have beautiful and spacious tents, but they are still just tents. Our stay here on earth is temporary, and we must not treat this temporary dwelling as our final, permanent home. Our true home is with the Lord in heaven.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

Do we realize that we are just pilgrims on this earth? How do we prepare ourselves to reach our true home? Do we visit the Lord in His tent? How do we receive the Lord into our “tents”?

The Spirit and the Test

1st Sunday of Lent [C]

March 9, 2025

Luke 4:1-13

As we begin the season of Lent, we once again reflect on the story of Jesus being tested in the desert for forty days. However, St. Luke’s Gospel provides an interesting detail: it is the Spirit who led Jesus into the desert, a place where He had to fast and face the evil one. What does this mean?

1st Sunday of Lent [C]
March 9, 2025
Luke 4:1-13

As we begin the season of Lent, we once again reflect on the story of Jesus being tested in the desert for forty days. However, St. Luke’s Gospel provides an interesting detail: it is the Spirit who led Jesus into the desert, a place where He had to fast and face the evil one. What does this mean?

By leading Jesus into the desert for forty days, the Spirit of God intended for Jesus to reenact an important event from the Old Testament—the Israelites’ wandering in the desert. Like the Israelites, Jesus also faced challenges and difficulties. The weather was harsh, with intense heat during the day and chilling cold at night. Food and water were scarce, and the desert was home to dangerous animals that threatened human life. Jesus relived the experience of the Israelites, enduring the same harsh conditions. But beyond that, the devil saw an opportunity to test Jesus, knowing that He was physically weak. This was the same evil spirit that tested the Israelites in the desert. St. Luke reveals the three temptations that Jesus faced: hunger (bodily pleasure), worldly wealth, and personal glory.

The Israelites in the desert faced the same three temptations. When they were hungry and thirsty, they grumbled against God, even blaming Him for delivering them from Egypt (Exo 16). When Moses was praying on the mountain, the Israelites demanded a new god, replacing the living God with a golden calf—something materially valuable and attractive, but ultimately lifeless (Exo 32). Some Israelites, filled with pride, sought glory for themselves. Aaron and Miriam tried to claim leadership over Moses (Num 12), while Korah and his followers attempted to usurp the position of high priest (Num 16). By entering the desert and reliving the events of the Exodus, Jesus became the new and perfect Israel. He was physically weak, tested, and tempted, but He did not fall. He even defeated Satan in their first spiritual battle.

The Gospel tells us that Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert, where He was “tempted” by the devil. Does this mean that it was the Spirit’s will to “tempt” Jesus? The Greek word used here is “πειράζειν” (peirazein), which can be translated as ‘to tempt,’ but also as ‘to test.’ These words are not synonymous, but they are closely related because a period of testing often includes the opportunity for temptation. Just like in school exams, we may feel the urge to cheat.

The Gospel teaches us that God, in His infinite wisdom, does not always shield us from difficult times but allows us to face the trials of life. These trials—such as hunger, financial problems, illness, and difficult relationships—are often used by evil spirits to tempt us to steal, cheat, be unfaithful, and blame God. However, we must remember that Jesus was filled with the Holy Spirit when He entered the desert. The only way to endure the trials of life and protect ourselves from temptation is by relying on the Holy Spirit. When we rely on ourselves, we will surely fail, but with God’s help, we will be victorious, just like Jesus.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide question:
What are our desert experiences? What trials do we need to face in life? What temptations do we often encounter? Do we rely on the Holy Spirit in these difficult times? How can we trust in the Lord more? What wisdom do we gain after enduring trials?

Words from the Hearts

8th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

March 2, 2025

Luke 6:39-45

The Book of Sirach tells us, “Praise no one before he speaks, for it is then that people are tested (27:7).” This means that to truly know someone, we must listen to their words, as their words reveal much about who they are. Indeed, our words unveil many aspects of our lives. From the choice of our words, others can gauge our knowledge and intellectual capacity. The way we speak can also reveal some of our dominant characteristics. Furthermore, our words express our beliefs and what we hold dear.

However, expressing words is just one side of the story, for words can also be used to deceive and manipulate. We can use words to lead people to believe something about us that might not be true. We can say things that hide parts of ourselves. We can utter words that are pleasing and encouraging, with the aim of gaining favor from others.

Ancient people long recognized the power of words and developed an art called “rhetoric” (literally, the art of speaking or the art of persuasion). Aristotle wrote his classic manual on rhetoric around 350 BC, while teaching at his school, the Lyceum, in ancient Athens. His manual became the standard for many orators who sought to convince, persuade, and influence people. Aristotle identified three elements of rhetoric: ethos (credibility of the speaker), logos (logical argument), and pathos (emotional appeal to the audience). A good orator must incorporate all three elements in their speech.

Unfortunately, many people are easily persuaded by pathos alone, since we enjoy hearing dramatic, even bombastic words—those that are pleasing to us. We tend to avoid painful or unpleasing words. Naturally, we dislike people who speak critically about us, regardless of their ethos, logos, or even veritas (truth). At times, we follow and even idolize someone because we are “hypnotized” by their words, assuming they are credible, truthful, and even “saintly.” We may then refuse to acknowledge evidence that their words are not truthful or even harmful for us.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches us that “from the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks (Luk 6:45).” What is in our hearts is reflected in our words. If our hearts are filled with evil, our words may sound sweet, but they can be manipulative and self-serving. If our hearts are filled with genuine love for others, our words may not always be easy to hear, but they will be for the authentic good of those we love. Jesus’ words to His disciples are not always sweet and often difficult to accept. Phrases like “love your enemies (Luk 6:27),” “Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, honor your father and mother (Mat 19:18),” “sell your goods and give to the poor (Luk 18:22),” and “unless you eat my body, you will not have life (John 6:53)” are hard to digest, but they are meant for our ultimate good—our salvation.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guiding Questions:

What is in our hearts? Are our thoughts good, pure, and noble, or are they selfish, malicious, and evil? How do we use our words? Do we use words that encourage or discourage? Do we build people up or tear them down? Do we follow Jesus, even when His words are difficult?

Love and Power

7th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

February 23, 2025

Luke 6:27-38

Jesus teaches us to “love our enemies,” but what does this mean? Does it mean we must endure their evil deeds without fighting back? Does it mean we must always give in to their demands? Does it mean we should forget what they do to us? Thankfully, the Church provides us with an answer through our first reading: the story of David and Saul.

Saul, the first king of Israel, initially supported David as one of his commanders, especially after David defeated Goliath. However, as time passed and after various wars, David became more successful than Saul and even gained greater fame. Feeling threatened by David’s growing popularity, Saul declared him his enemy and sought to kill him. David was forced to flee, and with his supporters, he waged guerrilla warfare against Saul. One day, when Saul and his army were in pursuit of David, they camped for the night. David noticed Saul’s camp nearby, and when the guards were asleep, David quietly entered Saul’s tent and had the opportunity to kill him. David’s companion even urged him to take action, knowing that Saul had caused much suffering for him and his men. Moreover, if Saul were killed, David could claim the throne and become the new king of Israel. Yet, David refused to kill Saul, recognizing that Saul was still God’s anointed king. He knew it would be cowardly to deal the final blow. Ultimately, God blessed David for showing mercy to his enemy, Saul.

The story of David and Saul illustrates how we can love our enemies. To love does not simply mean to like someone, but rather to choose to do good to them. Yes, we may feel hatred toward our enemies, but we can still decide to love them by not harming them. From David’s story, we also learn that loving our enemies presupposes that we have power over them. In David’s case, he had the power to end Saul’s life. To love someone, including our enemy, requires power.

This truth about love and power is crucial. It is not true love if we merely condone the wrongdoing of our enemies because we lack the power to defend ourselves. I often tell spouses who are victims of domestic abuse that simply giving in to the demands of an abusive partner is not true love, but a misunderstanding of Jesus’ commandment to love our enemies.

Loving others, even our enemies, is for the strong and powerful. Only through the exercise of power and authority can we do something that is genuinely good. Without power, we may deceive ourselves into thinking that we love our enemies, when in reality, we are just giving in to their wrongdoing.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How do we understand Jesus’ commandment to love our enemies? Who are our enemies? Are we willing to love our enemies? How can we love our enemies? Are we sure that we love our enemies, or are we simply giving in to their wrongdoings?

Woe to You who are Rich?

6th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

February 16, 2025

Luke 6:17, 20-26

Today, we reflect on Jesus’ Beatitudes according to St. Luke. Unlike St. Matthew’s version, where Jesus pronounces eight blessings, in the third Gospel, Jesus declares four blessings and four woes. One of the most striking statements is when Jesus says, “Woe to the rich!” Does this mean that being rich automatically condemns us to hell? Does St. Luke harbor hatred toward wealthy people?

The answer is a resounding NO. Being rich does not automatically lead to condemnation, nor does St. Luke despise the wealthy. In fact, the Gospel he wrote serves as the first evidence of this. Luke dedicates his Gospel to a man named Theophilus, who, as we’ve discussed before, was likely a wealthy individual who supported Luke in his writing endeavors. Luke holds deep respect for Theophilus, and Theophilus, in turn, genuinely cares for Luke and his ministry.

Secondly, it’s important to understand the meaning of the word “woe.” In the Bible, this term does not signify outright condemnation or a curse. Instead, it serves as a stern warning. The prophets of the Old Testament used “woe” to call Israel to repentance and a return to the Lord. However, if the Israelites remained stubborn, the “woe” would become a reality, and they would face the consequences of their actions (see Isaiah 5:8–22; Amos 6:1; Habakkuk 2:6–20). In the Gospel, Jesus follows in the footsteps of these prophets, using “woe” as a call to reflection and change.

At the same time, we must read Jesus’ woes in their entirety. When He says, “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation,” it becomes clear that the “woe” is not directed at all rich people but specifically at those who find their happiness solely in their wealth. In other words, the warning is for those who rely on earthly riches rather than on God. Even poor individuals who idolize money and treat it as everything in life fall under this “woe.”

The same applies to Jesus’ other warnings. Woe to us if we seek bodily pleasure and worldly enjoyment while neglecting the Kingdom of God. Woe to us if we chase popularity and fame instead of striving for God’s glory. Wealth, bodily pleasure, and fame are not inherently evil—they can be good, but only as means to attain what is truly good. Ultimately, these things will pass away when we die, and we will stand before God’s judgment empty-handed. As Job once said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised!” (Job 1:21).

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

How do we feel after reading this Gospel? What is our attitude toward wealth and earthly possessions? How do we use your wealth, possessions, and bodily pleasures? How do we promote God’s glory in this life?