Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

October 25, 2026

Matthew 22:34-40

Jesus teaches the two greatest commandments: to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves (Matthew 22:37–39; Mark 12:29–31). Implicit within the second commandment, however, is a vital truth: to love others effectively, we must first love ourselves. In this sense, proper self-love serves as our third greatest commandment. Yet, what does it truly mean to love ourselves, and do we know how to do so properly?

St. Thomas Aquinas famously defines love as willing the good of another (Summa Theologiae, I-II, q. 26, a. 4). This definition applies equally to ourselves: self-love is willing our own genuine good. Our fundamental desire to live and care for our well-being is clear evidence of this innate drive. Aquinas emphasizes that love is not merely a feeling, but an act of the will—a firm commitment to action. Engaging in regular exercise, eating nourishing food, and getting sufficient rest are all genuine acts of self-love because they foster our physical well-being. Even when laziness or a lack of motivation arises, we must exercise our willpower to choose these actions for our own good.

Because human beings are more than biological organisms, healthy eating and exercise address only one aspect of our nature. As rational beings created by God, we possess the capacity to build a meaningful future. We invest years and substantial resources in our education because we recognize that intellectual growth enables us to refine our character and live more purposeful lives. Seeking knowledge and self-improvement is thus another authentic expression of self-love.

Most fundamentally, we are composed not only of body, but also of an immortal soul. Consequently, our highest good lies beyond this passing world in eternal life with God. Truly loving ourselves means taking our divine dignity seriously—recognizing that we are made in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:27) and destined for eternity, while refusing to settle for anything less. Conversely, an excessive fixation on worldly desires—such as wealth, fame, bodily pleasures, or pride—to the point of harming others, damaging creation, or compromising our moral integrity is a perversion of self-love. It is never wise to exchange eternal goodness for temporal things, or to trade our relationship with God for passing earthly pleasures.

Nourishing and safeguarding our souls through spiritual practices is therefore not an afterthought, but a matter of paramount importance. The Eucharist is not merely a routine family tradition or an obligation imposed upon us; it is true spiritual nourishment for our souls. Prayer is far more than a hasty sign of the cross before meals; it is vital communion with God, serving as the very air our souls breathe. Confession is not an exercise in guilt, but a healing medicine for our wounded spirits.

Ultimately, authentic self-love forms the necessary foundation for loving our neighbors, for without understanding what is genuinely good for our own spiritual and physical well-being, we cannot effectively seek the true good of others. True self-love also leads us directly to the love of God, in whom our supreme and ultimate goodness is fulfilled.

Manila

Guide questions:
Do we practice genuine self-love by taking care of our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being, or are we settling for temporary earthly distractions? How effectively are we using our daily habits, prayer, and sacraments to nourish our souls and prepare ourselves for eternal life? In what ways can a deeper, healthier love for ourselves transform how we show love to our neighbors and to God?

28^th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

October 11, 2026

Matthew 22:1-14

As a Catholic, I cannot help but associate the parable of the wedding banquet with the celebration of the Eucharist. But why is that?

In the parable, the king prepares a wedding banquet for his son, and we can easily imagine it as the celebration of the century. A proud father who is also the supreme leader of the kingdom would naturally wish not only to make his son the happiest man in the world, but also to show his entire kingdom that this is the most important event in his royal family. Thus, one can expect the most delicious food, an abundance of choice wine, and the finest entertainment. Everyone invited who attends the celebration will not only be deeply honored, but will also experience immense joy.

The Eucharist is likewise a banquet, yet it is prepared not by a human ruler, but by the King of the Universe. Because the Eucharist is prepared by the King of Heaven, it is the greatest and highest celebration we can experience on earth. What truly makes the Eucharist the ultimate celebration is that the King of Heaven has prepared something exceptionally special for those who answer His invitation—something the world cannot offer, something far more precious than gold, and greater than any gift we could ever imagine. God offers Jesus Himself to us—not merely in our minds or hearts, but upon our lips and into our very souls. He gives us not just a fraction of Himself, but the totality of Christ. Because Jesus is eternally united with the Father and the Holy Spirit, as well as with all the saints in heaven, every time we receive the Eucharist, we receive heaven itself.

Unfortunately, some of us resemble the invited guests who failed to attend because they prioritized their daily chores and routine labor over the royal banquet. We risk losing sight of the profound value of the Eucharist, treating it neither as a divine invitation nor as a heavenly celebration. The moment we lose sight of its true essence, we begin searching for shallow reasons to go to church. Perhaps we attend merely to be inspired or entertained by the priest’s homily; if we find him boring, we cease attending Mass. Or perhaps we go simply because it is a family tradition; once we are away from our parents, we no longer feel obligated. In doing so, we reduce the Eucharist to just another earthly activity, squandering our pathway to heaven.

Another danger is treating the Eucharist casually, much like the guest who entered the royal banquet without a proper wedding garment. Perhaps we approach the altar not seeking God, but pursuing our own selfish interests. The most dangerous state of all is receiving the Eucharist while in a state of mortal sin. As Saint Paul warns, “Whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord… For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body, eats and drinks judgment on himself” (1 Cor 11:27, 29).

Guide questions:
Do I truly view attending Mass as a joyful response to a divine invitation from the King, or have I let daily chores, routine obligations, or shallow motives take priority? When I prepare to receive the Eucharist, am I approaching Jesus with a heart genuinely seeking Him, or am I treating this sacred encounter casually out of routine? Is there any unconfessed serious sin or selfish attitude in my life that prevents me from wearing the “wedding garment” of a clean and contrite heart before the Lord’s altar?

27^th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

October 4, 2026

Matthew 21:33-43

Our Gospel tells us the story of a vineyard owner who entrusted his vineyard to workers so that they might take care of it and produce a good harvest. At first, this seems like a normal occurrence in the agrarian industry. Yet, as the story unfolds, we see strange, unexpected events begin to happen. What are those unexpected events?

First, the owner prepared almost everything before leaving: he planted the vines, built a hedge to protect the vineyard from wild animals such as boars and foxes, dug a wine press where the grapes could be crushed to produce juice for fermentation, and built a watchtower where a guard could be stationed to watch for incoming animals or thieves. The tower could also serve as a shelter for the workers to rest. It is important to note that the vineyard owner was under no legal obligation to provide all these facilities.

Second, and even more remarkable, is what happened after his first servant was beaten by the rebellious tenants. The expected response would have been for the owner to immediately send an army to take back his land and punish the ungrateful laborers. Instead, he chose to do something unthinkable: he sent more servants, knowing they might meet the same cruel fate. Finally, he chose to send his own beloved son, believing the workers would respect him. However, the wicked men did not hesitate to kill the owner’s son (Matthew 21:33–39, Mark 12:1–8, Luke 20:9–15).

Looking at the landowner’’ actions, we recognize that they appear completely irrational, even foolish. No logical person would act this way. Yet, what the landowner did is precisely what the Lord does for us. As Sacred Scripture reminds us, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16), fully knowing that humanity would repeatedly reject Him. This divine love defies human logic and comprehension, yet it is through this very love that we hold the hope of ultimate salvation rather than condemnation.

On one occasion, a student asked a priest, “Father, why do we need to confess our sins when we know we are going to sin again anyway?” It was a logical and challenging question. The priest answered, “Yes, you are right. We will fall into temptation again.” After a thoughtful pause, he continued, “When we get sick, we take medicine to get well. Even though we know we might get sick again in the future, we do not stop taking medicine.”

The Sacrament of Reconciliation is the greatest proof of God’s unimaginable love and mercy toward us. No matter how sinful we are, how flawed we feel, or how far we have fallen, God is always ready to receive us when we approach Him with true contrition. He knows our weaknesses and foresees our future falls, yet He never withdraws His love. However, while God’s grace is freely given, it is never cheap. If we continue to take His love for granted and abuse His mercy, then at the final judgment, the Lord will return not as our Savior, but as our Just Judge.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Questions:
How often do I recognize and appreciate the gifts, blessings, and grace that God has already prepared and entrusted to me in my life? When I repeatedly fail or fall into the same sins, do I humbly seek God’s mercy in confession, or do I make excuses and stay away from Him? Am I truly striving to grow in holiness, or am I taking God’s love for granted and abusing His infinite mercy in my daily choices?

23^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

September 6, 2026

Matthew 18:15-20

Our Gospel passage addresses the act of offering correction to our brothers and sisters when they commit a sin against us. This pericope is traditionally known in Latin as Fraterna Correctio. Why is this teaching on fraternal correction considered so important that our Lord Himself laid out a clear procedure for it?

First, we must clarify that we are not dealing with mere human lapses or simple mistakes, such as choosing the wrong outfit or forgetting to comb our hair, but with sin. Sin is a direct violation of God’s law. Although the Gospel states, “when a brother sins against you,” sin is ultimately committed against the Lord. When we steal from a brother, we do not merely harm him; we offend the Lord by committing an act that displeases Him. While harming our neighbor can strain or destroy earthly relationships, violating God’s law brings far graver consequences, as it imperils our eternal life with Him.

Second, the Gospel emphasizes that the person who sins against us is our brother. Throughout this pericope, the word “brother” refers not only to biological siblings or relatives, but Jesus’ disciples, meaning the fellow members of the Church—our Christian brothers and sisters united by baptism and faith in Jesus Christ. While we certainly ought to correct family members and relatives when they sin, the Lord also requires us to care for our broader spiritual family. The Lord places this responsibility upon us for a reason revealed in the first reading, Ezekiel 33:7–9. Speaking through the prophet Ezekiel, the Lord warns that if we fail to call our brothers to repentance, we share in their guilt. Our silence signals either approval of their actions or indifference toward their souls, both of which displease the Lord.

Third, correcting our brothers is fundamentally a saving act of love. When we love people, we desire the highest good for them, which is ultimately eternal life in heaven. Loving them means helping them reach that goal while urging them to avoid anything that threatens their salvation. By reminding them to repent from their sins, we fulfill the greatest commandments: to love the Lord and to love our neighbor. We love the Lord by fulfilling His desire to guide our brothers away from a sinful life, and we love our brothers by drawing them closer to God.

However, we must also remember that the choice to repent ultimately belongs to them. After doing our best to correct them, if they persist in their sin, we should not grow overly frustrated or consumed by sorrow. Instead, we entrust them to the Lord in prayer, recognizing that only He can transform a human heart. Furthermore, as those who offer correction, we must maintain a humble spirit, acting as servants of the Lord rather than assuming a position of superiority over our brothers. As we care for others through fraterna correctio, we must continually guard our own hearts against pride and hypocrisy.

Manila

Valentinus bayuhadi ruseno, OP

Guide questions:
How often do we remain silent when a brother or sister in Christ strays, and are we holding back out of indifference or a genuine lack of love? Do we approach fraterna correctio with true humility as fellow servants, or do we secretly feel superior to those we are trying to correct? When someone refuses to listen to our gentle corrections, can we peacefully entrust them to God in prayer without giving in to anger, frustration, or pride?

22^nd Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

August 29, 2026

Rome 12:1-2

In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul urges the faithful to offer their bodies as a “living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1). For ancient readers, St. Paul’s statement was a striking oxymoron—a figure of speech that combines two words of opposing meaning, such as “bittersweet” or “controlled chaos.” But why was Paul’s concept of a “living sacrifice” an oxymoron in the first place?

In ancient times, people worshiped their gods by offering sacrifices. This was especially true for the Israelites in Paul’s era. Worshippers would travel to the Temple in Jerusalem bringing animals—most commonly lambs—for sacrifice. First, the priests would inspect each animal to ensure it was free of defects. After certification, the worshipper would lay his hands on the animal’s head to symbolically identify himself with it. The animal’s throat was then cut with a swift, continuous motion of a razor-sharp knife to ensure a rapid death. A priest would catch the fresh blood in a sacred basin, stirring it continuously to prevent coagulation, before carrying it to the Altar to splash or sprinkle against its base. Finally, the priests flayed the animal, cut it into portions, and placed either parts of it or the whole victim onto the Altar to be burned (see Leviticus 1–4).

Because sacrifice in both the pagan world and ancient Israel was inextricably linked with the death of the victim, St. Paul’s phrase “living sacrifice” sounded like a direct contradiction. However, Paul was drawing upon a rich Old Testament tradition. The prophets frequently emphasized that animal sacrifices were meaningless without true, heart-felt repentance. King David proclaimed, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17). Similarly, the prophet Hosea declared God’s message: “For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings” (Hosea 6:6).

To become a “living sacrifice” still involves death, but not a physical one. St. Paul explained this personal transformation when he wrote, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). Paul was not literally executed on a wooden cross; rather, he put to death his ego, selfish interests, and worldly desires to live entirely for Jesus Christ. From that point on, everything he said and did was oriented toward pleasing the Lord and advancing the Gospel.

Just as Jesus offered Himself as a complete sacrifice on the cross, St. Paul surrendered his own body and life to God by living in total conformity with the divine will. In the same way, St. Paul invites us to offer our bodies, work, studies, relationships, rest, and even our sufferings as a living sacrifice. In everything we do, we strive to please God and live according to His will. For Catholics, every daily activity can be united with the self-offering of Jesus in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, becoming part of that perfect offering that constitutes true, spiritual worship (Romans 12:1).

Guide questions:
How can we put to death our own egos, selfish desires, and worldly ambitions so that Christ can truly live through us each day? In what ways can we offer our daily routines—our work, studies, relationships, and even our struggles—as a living sacrifice to God? Are we offering God meaningful inner devotion and mercy in our daily actions, or are we simply going through the motions of outward religious habits?

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

August 23, 2026

Matthew 16:13-20

Today, Jesus asked His disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 16:15). Arguably, this is the most important question we will answer in our lives. We might answer in various ways—that Jesus is our beloved friend, the Good Shepherd, our leader, or our Savior and Redeemer. While all of these descriptions are true, the moment we confess Jesus as our Lord and God, everything changes.

If we truly accept Jesus as our God, our lives must be oriented around Him, making Him our first priority. Giving Him the highest honor is hardly enough; instead, we must offer Him the worship that only God deserves. Sharing some of our time, resources, and talents for His glory is far from enough; we are called to dedicate our whole lives to Him. Being baptized and attending church every Sunday are only the minimum requirements; Instead, we should strive to please Him in every aspect of our lives—in our words, actions, and daily choices at all times.

Many of us might object that this standard is impossible to maintain because we are not priests or nuns, or because we want to pursue other legitimate priorities such as our careers, hobbies, and personal ambitions. To many, this demand seems unrealistic. However, this expectation does not arise out of thin air; rather, it flows naturally from the virtue of justice.

Simply put, justice means giving someone what is due. When an employer pays a fair wage to an employee who has completed their work, it is not an act of charity, but an obligation demanded by justice. Similarly, as citizens, justice requires us to obey the law and contribute to the common good of society, such as by paying taxes. At the same time, the government has an obligation to serve its citizens honestly and with integrity by protecting them from harm, providing healthcare, and building infrastructure, because these services are obligations to citizens. All of these obligations naturally arise from the demands of justice.

If we are to practice justice in our families, workplaces, and communities, we must all the more render what is just and right to our God and Creator. We need to recognize that God was not obligated to create us, yet He brought us into existence, endowed us with reason and free will, and made us unique among all creatures on earth. Furthermore, God was not obligated to save us, yet when humanity fell into sin, He redeemed us through His Son so that we would not perish (John 3:16). Ultimately, God graciously offers us His friendship and adopts us as His children. Although we deserve nothing from God, He has given us everything. Therefore, the virtue of justice demands that we give God everything we have—our time, our talents, and even our lives. This does not mean that we are all called to be priests or monks/nuns. As laypeople and professionals, we can prioritize Jesus by ensuring that every decision we make aligns with His divine will and pleases Him.

Manila

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

How actively do we allow our belief in Jesus as our Lord and God to reshape our daily choices, priorities, and habits? Do we give God only the bare minimum of our time and talents, or do we strive to give Him the full devotion He justly deserves? In what practical ways can we honor God and seek His will in our daily lay vocations, families, and careers?

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]
July 19, 2026
Matthew 13:24-43

Today we hear the Parable of the Wheat and the Tares. An interesting point arises when the landowner realizes that the tares are growing alongside the good crops, yet he chooses to let them live together. Why does he make this decision?

When the servants suggest that the tares be removed immediately, the landowner refuses for purely practical reasons. In their early stages of growth, the tares look almost identical to healthy wheat. If the servants insist on pulling the tares prematurely, they will mistakenly uproot the good wheat. While this action makes perfect sense in an agricultural context, Jesus does not explicitly explain in His theological discourse why God does not immediately punish those who carry evil in their hearts. This fact raises an important question: what is the deeper spiritual reason that God allows the wicked and the righteous to coexist in this world for a time?

The answer is closely related to the Parable of the Sower, told earlier in Matthew 13:1-23 (the previous Sunday). In this parable, Jesus describes four types of soil that represent the disposition or condition of the human heart when hearing God’s Word: the path, the rocky ground, the thorny ground, and the fertile soil. Unlike the static nature of real-world soil, the spiritual disposition of the human heart is dynamic and can change over time. This dynamic nature is key to understanding why God delays the destruction of the spiritual “tares.” Within the human heart, both the Word of God and worldly influences constantly struggle to dominate the soil of our lives. When faced with the influence of evil forces, humans have varying responses; some ignore evil, some fight against it, and still others welcome it until it develops into sinful actions.

The human capacity for internal change explains why Jesus chose to allow the “tares” to continue growing among the wheat rather than passing instant judgment. God allows this spiritual struggle because He knows that even though a heart is currently being controlled by evil influences, that person’s life story is not over. Through His gracious free will, a person currently living as a “weed” has the opportunity to repent, change, and ultimately transform into “wheat.” This principle is tremendous good news for all of us. Even when the whispers of evil spirits try to conquer our hearts, God patiently continues to provide His help so that we have the opportunity to heal and bear good fruit.

God helps us fight the seeds of evil in our hearts in several practical ways. First, He works through His Word, planted within us through the Scriptures, which not only inspires us to do good but also trains us to recognize and resist evil. Second, He pours out His grace sacramentally, especially through the soul-nourishing Eucharist and the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which restores our relationship with Him. Third, God provides the Christian community as a vital refuge where we can find spiritual support and encouragement from fellow believers. Finally, He even uses life’s suffering and trials as a spiritual “pruning” process to remove harmful traits that cling to us, so that we can grow into stronger individuals.

Surabaya
Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guiding questions:
How deeply do we delve into Scripture so that we can clearly distinguish between the good seeds of God and the subtle weeds of the enemy in our daily lives? When we recognize bad tendencies or habits taking root in our hearts, do we actively seek help through the sacraments and community, or do we try to face the struggle alone? Finally, how can we shift our perspective on life so that we see current suffering and trials not as God’s abandonment, but as His patient and loving way of pruning us to become more fruitful?

5^th Sunday in Ordinary Time [A]

July 12, 2026

Matthew 13:1-23

Today, we listen to Jesus’ iconic Parable of the Sower. Of course, this is not the only parable Jesus tells. He also teaches the Parables of the Hidden Treasure and the Costly Pearl (Mat 13:44-46), the Parable of the Ten Virgins (Mat 25:1-13), and the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luk 15:11-32), to name just a few. From this frequency, we can conclude that Jesus favors teaching through parables. Yet, what exactly is a parable, and why does Jesus choose this specific method in the first place?

The English word “parable” comes from the Greek παραβολή (parabolē), which literally means “to throw alongside,” and signifies a comparison. In the Parable of the Sower, we see two distinct realities—daily human life and spiritual, divine truth—being placed side-by-side and compared. Jesus directly links the seeds scattered by the sower to the word of the Kingdom. Meanwhile, the four types of soil that receive the seed represent the four different dispositions of the human heart when encountering that word. But this raises another question: why does Jesus use a symbolic parable to teach rather than simply speaking in a straightforward, direct manner?

For many of us who regularly listen to Jesus’ parables during the Mass and hear priests explain them, the meaning of each story seems obvious and easy to comprehend. However, the experience was entirely different for Jesus’ disciples and the Jewish crowds who heard these parables for the very first time. In the Gospel, after Jesus delivers the Parable of the Sower, the disciples are confused and at a loss regarding its meaning. Consequently, they approach Jesus in private and ask, “Why do you speak to the people in parables?” (Mat 13:10).

Jesus then gives them the true reason behind this method: “Because the knowledge of the secrets of the kingdom of heaven has been given to you, but not to them” (Mat 13:11). This reveals that the purpose of a parable is dual: it is meant both to reveal and to hide. The ultimate key to unlocking a parable is faith in Jesus. For those who have faith, the secret behind the story is opened and properly understood; for those who lack faith, the meaning remains hidden. This is why the deeper explanation of the Parable of the Sower is given strictly to the disciples during a private moment with Jesus.

Understanding the truth behind Jesus’ parables is a beautiful sign that we possess faith in Him. Yet, true faith is never a static, passive acceptance of Jesus as our Lord; it is a life-transforming force. This is precisely the lesson embedded in the Parable of the Sower. The Lord has sown His word into our hearts, but we must do our part to allow that word to transform our lives. As Jesus clearly explains, unless the Word penetrates deeply and takes root in our hearts, we will fall away when difficult times arise. Likewise, unless we clear away the thorns of worldly anxieties and ambitions, the Word will be choked and fail to bear fruit. Ultimately, a parable is not just an invitation to understand Christ through faith, but a direct challenge to transform our daily lives and become truly fruitful in Him.

Bandung

Guide questions:
How deeply have we allowed the word of God to penetrate our hearts, and are we nurturing its roots so that our faith can withstand difficult times? What are the specific “thorns” of worldly anxieties and personal ambitions in our daily lives that are currently choking the word and preventing us from bearing fruit? Do we treat our faith as a passive, static acceptance of Jesus, or are we actively collaborating with Him to let His teaching transform our actions and choices?