Two Ways of Preaching the Gospel

5th Sunday of Easter [C]

May 18, 2025

Acts 14:21-27

In the first reading, we heard about the missionary journey of St. Paul and his companion St. Barnabas. Their mission shows us how the early Church fulfilled Jesus’ commandment: “Make all nations my disciples.” So what can we discover from their example?

First, let us consider St. Paul’s story in its entirety. After his conversion, Paul remained in Antioch (in present-day Turkey), where he became a respected teacher and prophet. Then the Holy Spirit called Paul and Barnabas to be set apart for God’s work. The Christian community commissioned them to preach in places where the Gospel had not yet been heard. They travelled to various locations including the island of Cyprus and towns in southern Turkey – Pisidian Antioch, Iconium, Derbe, and Lystra.

They proclaimed the Good News to both Jews and Gentiles in these places, bringing many souls to believe in Jesus Christ. Yet Paul and Barnabas knew they were not to remain there permanently, but rather to move on to preach in even more places. To care for the newly established Churches, they appointed “elders” (presbyteroi). These elders became the stable leaders of the communities, responsible for leading worship, proclaiming the Gospel, and maintaining spiritual discipline.

What then can we learn from Paul’s missionary journey? We see at least two essential ways of preaching the Gospel. The first way involves going to preach where the Gospel has not been heard and where faith has not yet taken root. Those who follow this path are typically called missionaries. Missionaries tend to be more mobile, moving from place to place as the need for the Gospel message arises. The second way focuses on deepening the understanding of the Gospel for those who already believe, nourishing and protecting their faith. In the Catholic tradition, this second way is carried out by the “elders” – the bishops assisted by priests and deacons, who remain more stable within the communities they serve.

On the other hand, the distinction between missionaries and elders is not rigid. The same person can be both a missionary and an elder. A simple example is Pope Leo XIV. Before becoming Pope, he was a priest of the Order of St. Augustine of the United States who became a missionary in Peru. Later he became the bishop of Chiclayo, Peru. The identity of missionary and elder merged in him.

However, we must remember that the task of preaching the Gospel is not given only to missionaries or elders, but to all of us. We too can and should practice both of these ancient ways of proclaiming the Gospel. In our modern world, the opportunities to share the Gospel are abundant. We can communicate different aspects of our faith, from its truth to its beauty, through various social media platforms. Personal interactions with friends and colleagues also provide opportunities to introduce our faith. Even if we find it difficult to explain our faith in words, we can always invite our relatives and friends to join us at Mass.

Parents particularly embody both of these approaches simultaneously. They are called to introduce the faith to their children through baptism and basic catechism, teaching them how to pray and sharing the fundamental truths of our faith. Like the Church’s elders, they must then continually nurture their children’s faith through virtuous living, prayer, and guidance. We should also support our catechists who work tirelessly both to introduce and deepen faith despite the many challenges they face.

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Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How do we preach the Gospel in our particular circumstances? Who specifically needs us to introduce them to Jesus? Have we helped those close to us grow nearer to God? Do others recognize us as people who bring Jesus with us?

Hearing the Voice of the Lord

4th Sunday of Easter [C]

May 11, 2025 

John 10:27-30

Hearing is one of the most fundamental senses that make us human. While it is true that we rely heavily on sight to navigate the world, hearing sets us apart from other animals. How is this possible? 

Certainly, humans do not have the best sense of hearing. Many animals possess far greater hearing abilities. For instance, bats have a sonar-like sense, allowing them to gauge distance through sound. Human ears are far weaker in comparison. Yet, despite our ordinary hearing capacity, we possess something other animals lack: the ability to associate sounds with meaning. In other words, we can create language. More importantly, we can distinguish meaningful words from senseless noise. 

Through hearing, ancient people built their families and communities. They listened to their leaders for guidance on defending themselves against wild animals and surviving harsh environments. By hearing, they learned the wisdom of their elders and the stories passed down through generations. Hearing meaningful words is what truly makes us alive as humans. 

Unfortunately, we now live in a world full of noise—senseless sounds, auditory pollution, and even false words. What we often hear no longer serves our survival or growth but merely what screams the loudest. We no longer listen to reason, the wisdom of the past, or—most importantly—the words of the Lord. If ancient people recognized that hearing their leaders was essential for survival, we too must realize that hearing our Lord, Jesus Christ, is not optional—it is a matter of our soul’s survival. 

So how can we learn to listen attentively to the voice of our true Shepherd? 

First, just as sheep listen to their shepherd’s voice for safety, we must recognize our Shepherd’s voice and follow His instructions—for our eternal salvation depends on it.   Second, to recognize His voice, we must become familiar with it. This comes through continual listening—by regularly reading the Bible, studying His teachings through the Church, and engaging in deep prayer. As we grow accustomed to God’s voice, we also learn to distinguish voices that do not come from Him—those of our own desires, the world, and evil spirits.   Third, listening must lead to action. Hearing without obedience is meaningless—or worse, it means following the enemy’s guidance. 

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Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:

Do we know the voice of our Lord? What kind of voices do we listen to? Are we able to distinguish the different voices in our lives? Do you believe you are following the words of the Lord? 

Our Weak Love and God Strong Love

Third Sunday of Easter [C]

May 4, 2025

John 21:1-19

In today’s Gospel, Jesus asks Peter three times, “Do you love me?” Some Church Fathers interpret this repetition as Jesus undoing Peter’s threefold denial. However, a closer look at the Greek text reveals that Jesus uses different words for “love” in each instance. These subtle distinctions deepen our understanding of the passage.

First, Jesus does not simply ask a question, but He makes a demand. In His first request, Jesus calls for a specific kind of love. John the Evangelist uses the Greek word “agape”, which signifies a wilful, sacrificial love, that seeks the genuine good of others. This love is not based on emotions but rather on freedom and commitment. True agape requires giving oneself completely, even to the point of sacrificing one’s life. Here, Jesus demands the highest form of agape from Peter, a love that surpasses all other things.

In His second request, Jesus once again uses “agape”, but this time without the phrase “more than these.” He still calls for sacrificial love, but not to the highest degree. In His third request, Jesus shifts from agape to “philia”, the Greek word for friendship-based love. Unlike agape, which is rooted in free will and dedication, philia depends more on emotions, mutual feelings, and shared interests. While true friendship may require acts of agape, its foundation remains philia. Once common interests fade, friendships often weaken.

But why does Jesus seem to lower His expectations—from total agape to simple agape, and finally to friendship? The answer lies in Peter’s responses. Each time Jesus questions him, Peter replies with “philia”. He cannot bring himself to profess agape, especially not in its highest form. His previous denial has left him broken, ashamed, and hesitant to love Jesus again. Fear holds him back.

Yet, despite Peter’s incomplete answers, Jesus does not rebuke him or seek a more faithful disciple. Instead, Jesus meets Peter where he is. He accepts Peter’s flawed, hesitant love and still entrusts him with the mission of shepherding His flock. Jesus does not require perfection, but He desires humility and sincerity. He sees Peter’s efforts and knows that, in time, Peter will give his life for Him.

God asks each of us for the highest form of love, yet we often fall short. Like Peter, we are wounded, weak, and full of failures. But the Good News is that God accepts our imperfect love and gently leads us toward perfection.

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Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

Do we love God?  Do we love Him with agape or philia?  In what ways do we fail to love God? What keeps us from loving God? How does He continue to love us despite our shortcomings? Can we recall a moment in our life when God’s unwavering love was evident despite our failures? 

Peace of Easter

Second Sunday of Easter [C]

April 27, 2025

John 20:19-31

The risen Christ’s first words to His disciples were, “Peace to you!” In Hebrew, this is literally “Shalom lakem” (שָׁלוֹם לָכֶם), a greeting frequently found in the Old Testament (Judges 6:23; 1 Samuel 1:17; 20:42; 25:6; etc.). Another Jewish variation, though not biblical, is “Shalom aleichem” (שָׁלוֹם עֲלֵיכֶם), meaning “Peace be upon you!” But was Jesus’ greeting merely cultural, or did it carry deeper significance?

To understand this, we must first explore the biblical meaning of “shalom.” One of the most common words in Scripture, appearing 237 times in the Old Testament, “shalom” is often translated as “peace.” Yet it signifies far more: the total well-being of a person, rooted in right relationships—with oneself, others, and God.

When the risen Christ appeared to the disciples, they were gripped by fear of the “Jews”. Interestingly these “Jews” may refer to three things: the Jewish authorities, Jesus Himself, a Jewish man, and even they themselves because they are Jews. They feared the authorities who had killed Jesus, knowing they could be next. They feared Jesus, remembering their failures: Judas’ betrayal, Peter’s denial, and their own abandonment. Would He now punish them? And they feared themselves: they feel unworthy and incapable disciples; they are underserved of Jesus’ mercy and forgiveness; they are broken and sinful. They fear of their own lives and future.

Yet Jesus’ words cut through their terror: “Peace to you.” This was no ordinary greeting. It was a divine assurance. They need not fear the authorities, for if they could not stop Jesus, they could not stop His followers. They need not fear Jesus, for He came not to condemn but rather to have mercy and forgive their weaknesses. When He repeated, “Peace to you,” and added, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you,” He affirmed their calling despite their flaws. Jesus assures them once again that despite their unworthiness, they remained chosen, and despite their weakness and failures, God’s grace is sufficient to perfect what is lacking in them.  

True shalom flows only from the risen Christ—a peace that reconciles us to God, heals our relationships, and silences our inner shame.  We know that we are sinners, yet we are redeemed so that we are in peace with God. We know that we often have difficult relationship with our neighbors, but we are invited to ask mercy and be merciful to other. We are aware that we are weak and incapable in loving God and others, but God’s grace is sufficient to complete what is lacking in us.

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Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide question:

Do you have peace in our lives? What are we afraid of? Do we have peace with God? Do we have peace with our neighbors? Do we have peace with ourselves? What are things that make us fail to achieve shalom?

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!

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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?

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.

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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.

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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”?

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.

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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?