33rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

November 16, 2025

2 Thessalonians 3:7-12

Work is an essential part of being human. We can define it as an effortful activity aimed at accomplishing a task, whether that be gathering food, building a home, or caring for another person. Yet, work is not a uniquely human endeavor. In the animal kingdom, we see remarkable industry: worker bees build, clean and protect their hives, forage for nectar, and regulate the hive’s temperature, while beavers construct complex dams that provide safe shelter and store food during winter.

While we share this impulse for labor with the animal world, there is an essential difference. Most animals work by instinct to ensure their survival and the propagation of their species. Our purpose in work, however, transcends mere survival. We work not only to preserve our lives but to improve them and build a better world for ourselves and our children. This is possible because of the unique gift of intellect, which allows us to comprehend the mysteries of nature, build tools, and develop technologies to use nature for the common good.

This intellect is a fundamental gift from God, bestowed upon us as beings made in His image. Through it, we are empowered to participate in God’s own work of creation. In Genesis 1:28, God instructed our first parents to “subdue” the earth. This “subduing” is not a license for destruction but a call to stewardship. This is clarified in Genesis 2:15, where God placed Adam in the garden “to serve and to guard it.” It is the duty of men and women to use our God-given intellect to cultivate the world according to His will—for the benefit of all, including future generations, and as protection against human greed and exploitation.

When we work honestly and diligently, we truly become God’s co-workers in building a better world. By participating in His holy work, our own labor becomes a means of our sanctification. This is why St. Paul so sharply rebukes the Thessalonians who abandoned work and relied on others for their sustenance (2 Thes 3:10). Laziness has no place in God’s plan; in fact, it is counted among the seven deadly sins.

However, a misunderstanding of work’s purpose also poses a spiritual danger. When our work occupies the majority of our time and energy, we can begin to derive our entire identity from our profession. We risk believing that “we are what we do,” living in fear of losing our job, our competitive edge, or our ability to achieve and be successful. At times, we may even bury ourselves in work, hiding behind the title of a “successful professional” to escape other responsibilities or even to hide from our failures as a present spouse or a loving parent.

This is the profound wisdom of God’s rest on the seventh day (Gen 2:1-3). He did not rest because He was weary, but to model for us the freedom we must claim: we must not become slaves to our work. Our identity is far greater than our profession. While work gives our lives meaning, it is not our only meaning, and certainly not our ultimate one. On the day of rest, we are invited to lay aside our status, our achievements, and our successes, and to remember our primary identity as beloved sons and daughters of God.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Questions for Reflection:

• How do I view my work and profession? Is it a vocation, a mere job, or something else?
• When I fear losing my job, what is the true source of that fear? Is it the loss of financial stability, or a deeper fear of losing my sense of purpose and identity?
• Do I truly observe a day of rest, setting aside my work to recharge and reconnect with God and my loved ones, or do I allow work to encroach upon this sacred time?

The Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (All Souls)

November 2, 2025

John 6:37-40

St. Joseph, the foster father of Jesus, is celebrated as a holy model for husbands, fathers, and workers. Yet, he also holds a more poignant title: the patron saint of a happy death. But what does this mean? How can death, so often shrouded in fear and sorrow, ever be considered happy?

To understand this, we must first ask a more fundamental question: What constitutes a happy death? Does it mean being surrounded by family at a ripe old age, free from pain? Or a beautiful funeral in a well-kept cemetery? At first glance, happiness and death seem to be irreconcilable opposites. We are hardwired for life; we instinctively recoil from the suffering that reminds us of our mortality. So, how can we find happiness in the very event our entire being resists? To seek a happy death can feel like trying to capture the wind.

It is here that St. Joseph comes to our aid. His life provides the answer to this profound puzzle. Catholic tradition holds that at his dying moment, Joseph was not alone. He was cradled in the presence of Jesus and Mary. This sacred companionship at life’s end was simply the culmination of a life lived in constant communion with God. The key to a happy death is a life lived with God.

In the Catholic faith, death is the final and decisive act of life, eternally sealing our choice for or against God. St. Joseph embodies the ideal: on his deathbed, he turned to Jesus, his adopted son and the Lord of Mercy, and to Mary, his wife and the Mother of God. His was a happy death because the Jesus he embraced with his final breath was the same Jesus who welcomed him into the eternal joy of heaven.

Yet, St. Joseph’s lesson is not merely about how to die, but fundamentally, about how to live. The Gospel describes him as a “righteous man” (Matt 1:19). His entire life was a faithful “yes”—a dedication to God’s will, often at great personal cost. He faced uncertainty, exile, and hardship for the sake of his family. Because he spent his life seeking the Lord in every circumstance, it was the most natural thing in the world for him to seek Jesus at his final moment. His good death was the fruit of a faithful life.

As we pray for our dearly departed, St. Joseph offers us a profound hope. He reminds us that for those who live faithfully with Christ, death does not destroy life but perfects it. It is not an end, but a gateway to unquenchable joy. This is the happy death.

St. Joseph, patron saint of a happy death, pray for us!

Guide Questions for Reflection:

Are we cultivating a life with Christ that prepares us to face our death with peace? Do we see death as a terrifying end, or as a passage to eternal life? In our daily choices, are we building the habit of turning to Jesus, as Joseph did? Do we seek the intercession of St. Joseph, asking him to pray for a holy death for ourselves and for all those who need it most?

26^th Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

September 28, 2025

Luke 16:19-31

The story of Lazarus and the Rich man does not only have a lot of lessons we can learn and imitate, but it also reveals the truth about our salvation. What are those?

1. The Plot Twist

The story of Lazarus and the rich man demonstrate Jesus’ wisdom as both a storyteller and a teacher. Most would assume the rich man is the protagonist, as his material wealth was seen as a sign of God’s favour. Conversely, Lazarus, in his poverty and sickness, would be viewed as a loser, suffering from divine disfavour. Yet, Jesus delivers a shocking twist that challenged his original Jewish audience and continues to challenge us today. In the end, the rich man, despite his extreme wealth, cannot save himself, while Lazarus, the poor man, receives God’s mercy and rests in the bosom of Abraham.

2. Not Just About Wealth

However, a deeper look reveals that Jesus is not simply condemning the rich and glorifying the poor. The rich man loses his salvation not merely because of his wealth, which can be a blessing from God when used as a means to an end. The core of his failure is his selfishness. He is depicted wearing expensive purple garments and feasting sumptuously every night, yet he chooses to ignore the desperately poor man at his gate. Despite having more than enough capacity to help, he closes his eyes, focusing only on his own pleasure.

Similarly, poverty alone does not automatically grant Lazarus a place with Abraham. The poor are also susceptible to sin, such as stealing or manipulation. Yet, Lazarus is described as one who “gladly” received the scraps from the rich man’s table. He refused to use his poverty as an excuse for sin, instead choosing gratitude for the little he had.

3. The Nameless Rich Man

Among the story’s three major characters, only one is left nameless: the rich man. Abraham, whose name means “father of many nations,” receives Lazarus, whose name is a Latinized form of the Hebrew “Eliazer,” meaning “My God is my helper.” This small detail is significant, illustrating a profound truth: we become what we love.

The rich man loved his wealth so dearly that he lost his unique identity, becoming known simply by his material status. He defined himself by his luxurious garments and lavish lifestyle. In contrast, Lazarus and Abraham loved God. The more they loved Him, the more they reflected His image, allowing their authentic, God-given identities to shine. Lazarus lived as one dependent on God’s help, and Abraham as a father to many nations. The more we love earthly things, we are absorbed into them, and gradually losing ourselves, yet the more we love God, the more we become like God, and we become more authentic.

Lourdes, France

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

Do we love God more than anything? What are things that prevent us from loving God? What are God-given missions in this life? Do we care for our unfortunate brothers and sisters around us?

Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross

September 14, 2025

John 3:13-17

The cross is a universal symbol of Christianity. People wear it as jewelry, like necklaces, rings, and earrings, either as a sign of devotion or simply as fashion. Churches and other Christian buildings are often crowned with its shape. Yet, despite its familiarity, the profound history and meaning of the cross can often be overlooked.

Historically, the cross was not a sacred symbol but a tool of terror. Crucifixion was a Roman method of execution designed for criminals and rebels. The condemned person was stripped naked, nailed to a wooden beam, and left to die a slow, public death exposed to the elements and humiliation. It was the ultimate symbol of human cruelty. This is the torture Jesus endured.

Yet, Jesus did not escape His cross. He embraced it. Through His resurrection, He transformed the cross from an instrument of torture into an instrument of God’s mercy and healing. In the Gospel, Jesus Himself draws a typological connection between His cross and the bronze serpent raised by Moses. Just as those who looked at the bronze serpent were healed, all who look to Jesus’ cross with faith will be saved.

This leads to the essential question: how does the cross heal us?

First, it heals through love. When we look at the cross, we see the ultimate proof of God’s love: He sent His only Son to offer Himself as a sacrifice to reconcile us to Himself. As St. Paul writes, “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). We receive this healing from sin primarily through Baptism and the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Every sin wounds our soul and separates us from God; the cross stands as a permanent call to repent and return to Him.

Second, it heals through God’s presence. The cross shows us that God is not a distant deity, remote from our pain. He chose to become one of us, to share in our human experience with all its suffering. On the cross, Jesus embraced the worst of human agony, demonstrating that when we unite our sufferings with His, our own crosses can be transformed. They can become a divine means of healing and grace.

When suffering hits us, it is easy to complain and despair. But the cross reminds us we are not alone. Just as Jesus used His suffering to become a blessing for the world, we too can offer our own pains to God and become a source of strength and compassion for others.

St. Francis of Assisi once sought glory as a knight. After being captured in battle and becoming seriously ill, he recovered physically but still felt a spiritual emptiness. Everything changed while he was praying in a broken-down chapel. He had a vision of Jesus on the cross, who said to him, “Francis, go and repair my house, which is falling into ruin.” This moment gave Francis the true healing he needed, helping him discover who he was and what he was meant to do, to be God’s instrument of peace and healings.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

What are our crosses in our lives? How do Jesus’ cross heal us? How? Do we become the means of God’s healing for others also? How?

23^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

September 7, 2025

Luke 14:25-33

We now encounter one of Jesus’ most challenging statements: He demands that we “hate” our parents, siblings, and even our own children. How are we to understand this hard saying?

To find the answer, we must consider three key elements: Jesus’ full statement, the meaning of the word “hate,” and the broader context of Jesus’ life and mission.

1. The Full Statement
   First, we need to read the entire sentence. Jesus said, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” This is not a general command for everyone, but a specific condition addressed to those who wish to become His true followers.

• The Biblical Meaning of “Hate”
  The word “hate” here (from the Greek μισέω – miseo) does not imply a feeling of strong aversion or enmity. In the Bible, this word often carries a comparative meaning: “to love less” or “to disfavor” in order to show preferential treatment to something else (see Genesis 29:31, Deuteronomy 21:15-16, Luke 16:13). In this context, Jesus is demanding that His followers make Him their absolute top priority. He is not asking us to detest our families, but to love Him so much that all other loves—even for our own lives—seem like hatred by comparison. A simpler way to phrase it is: Unless we love Jesus more than everything and everyone else, we cannot be His disciples.

• The Broader Context
  Finally, we must remember that Jesus was speaking as He walked toward Jerusalem, where He would face His Passion and death on the cross. To follow Him meant to share in His suffering. This is only possible if a disciple prioritizes Jesus above all else. We see this exemplified in figures like Mary, His mother, who refused to hide but stood firmly at the foot of the cross, sharing in His agony. Other disciples, like John and Mary Magdalene, also followed Him to the very end, demonstrating this ultimate priority.

This teaching remains true for us today. To follow Jesus to the end requires loving Him above all. While not everyone is called to physical martyrdom like St. Ignatius of Antioch who was fed to the lions or St. Francis de Capillas was tortured and killed when he preached Jesus in China, every disciple is called to make Jesus the central priority of their life.

This doesn’t mean we must pray every second of the day. Instead, it means making daily decisions that reflect our love for Jesus and our desire to please God. This can be as simple as: Choosing to avoid sin and vice; Refusing to be a stumbling block for others; Prioritizing Sunday Mass, even while on vacation; Gently inviting family members to know Jesus more.

Loving Jesus is a conscious, daily decision to choose what strengthens our holiness and deepens our relationship with Him.

Surabaya

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

How do I concretely show my love for Jesus in my daily routine? Do my actions and words encourage others to love Jesus? Could my behavior be making it difficult for someone else to approach Jesus?

22^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time [C]

August 31, 2025

Luke 14:1,7-14

Honor is a fundamental concept that defines our humanity. It guides our behaviors and conduct, and in extreme cases, can compel people to die or even kill others.

Defining “honor” is challenging because it is deeply embedded in both our individual and communal identities. It refers to the ideals that we as humans, holds dear, such as loyalty, bravery, honesty, hardworking and moral integrity. While these values may vary across cultures, some are universally acknowledged and admired. Honor is earned when others recognize our efforts to achieve these difficult ideals. For example, a student may be honored with a medal for their hard-earned academic achievements.

The pursuit of honor is, therefore, a pursuit of our highest ideals, a striving for greatness that makes us more fully human. Conversely, dishonor signifies a failure to uphold these values. We are dishonored when we betray someone, whom we pledge our loyalty or cowardly avoid difficulty. Some societies value honor so deeply that they see a dishonorable life, like one of dishonesty, unfaithfulness, and cowardice, as worse than an animal’s existence. During World War II, many Japanese soldiers and civilians chose suicide over the shame of capture or coming home in defeat.

As our Lord, Jesus understood that honor is fundamental to humanity. Yet, He also recognized how sin can corrupt and twist it. In the Gospel, Jesus criticized those who sought places of honor without striving for the ideals they represent. Jesus taught that the true value of a seat at the banquet is not its prominence, but the virtuous life of the person sitting in it. More importantly, He called us to pursue true ideals and reject corrupt values, introducing humility as a virtue that earns genuine honor.

Jesus’ criticism of the Pharisees is timeless and profoundly relevant today. In postmodern societies, we often replace “the seat of honor” with superficial markers like clothing, cars, and bank accounts. While possessions are not inherently bad, they become harmful when we treat them as our standard of honor, and in the process, we sacrifice true ideals like honesty and loyalty to gain them. Spousal fidelity was once highly honored, but now some cultures praise promiscuity. We once lauded hard work, but now often celebrate only results, even if achieved through deceit.  To follow Jesus is to continually examine our ideals. It means rejecting those that do not lead to human flourishing and embracing those that foster genuine growth. Jesus, our Lord, wants nothing but our holistic growth as humans that eventually brings us into the fullness of human life and holiness.

Guide Questions:

What ideals do we strive for? Are they conducive to our development as humans? Do we feel shame when we fail to achieve our ideals or when we sin? Do we teach our children what it means to have a true sense of honor?

19^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

August 10, 2025

Hebrew 11:1-2, 8-19

The author of the Letter to the Hebrews gives us a profound definition of faith: “Now faith is the foundation of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1-2). But what does this truly mean?

Faith as a Firm Foundation

The Greek word used for “foundation” is ὑπόστασις (hupostasis), which literally means “that which stands underneath.” This tells us that faith is not a fleeting emotion or a momentary burst of belief. It is not something can instantly be produced through loud music or strong screams. Instead, it is a steady, unshakable confidence in God’s promises. Faith anchors us, giving substance to what we hope for even when we cannot yet see it.

Faith as Convincing Evidence

The author also describes faith as ἔλεγχος (elengkos), a term often used in legal contexts to refer to irrefutable proof. In a courtroom, verified evidence determines guilt or innocence. Similarly, faith serves as undeniable confirmation of spiritual realities we cannot perceive with our physical senses, our eyes, our ears, and our mouth. Though unseen, these realities are just as real because faith testifies to their truth.

Where Does Such Faith Come From?

But how can faith be so strong? How can it serve as both foundation and evidence? The answer lies in its source: faith does not originate from within us but from God’s faithfulness. The promises we hope for are not human wishes but divine guarantees. Since God is trustworthy, our faith rests on His unchanging commitment to fulfil His promises

Then, how do we know God is truly faithful? History proves it. The Old Testament is filled with stories of God keeping His word, and Hebrews highlights Abraham as a key example. At seventy-five, Abraham obeyed God’s call to leave his comfortable homeland for an unknown future and uncharted land. Despite his old age and Sarah’s barrenness, he believed God’s promise of descendants as numerous as the stars. Even when tested with the unthinkable, sacrificing his son Isaac, Abraham trusted God’s faithfulness that everything would turn just right. He died without seeing the full fulfilment, yet God’s promises came to pass.

The Ultimate Fulfilment in Christ

Hebrews shows us that God’s faithfulness, demonstrated through generations, culminates in Jesus Christ. He is the final and fullest expression of God’s promises. He was born like us humans, suffered and died for us, and resurrected. Our faith, therefore, is not only built on emotions or human reasoning but on historical acts of God, proven in the lives of believers before us and sealed in Christ. Faith is more than simple belief. It is trust in the One who has never failed. And because God is faithful, we can stand firm, even when the path ahead is unseen.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions

• How do we understand faith? Is it merely an emotional feeling, a product of logic, or a personal encounter with God?
• Have we faced moments of doubt or a crisis of faith? How did we overcome them?
• How does recognizing God’s faithfulness in Scripture strengthen our trust in Him today?