Trinity in the Bible and in Our Life

The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity [C]

June 15, 2025

John 16:12-15

The mystery of the Holy Trinity stands at the center and foundation of our faith because it reveals the very nature of God. Our logical minds can deduce that there is one God, a perfect Being who created and sustains all things. Yet, we depend on divine revelation to grasp this profound truth. The word “Trinity” does not appear in Scripture, but the Bible, both in the Old and New Testaments, unveils this reality. Scripture affirms there is only one God, yet simultaneously reveals a plurality within His oneness.

One intriguing passage that hints at the Trinity is the very verse that declares God’s oneness—the Shema Israel (Deuteronomy 6:4). The Hebrew text reads: “שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָד” (Shema Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Echad). Most English translations render this as, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” However, a more literal translation would be: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord, our God, the Lord, one.” It is striking how the verse mentions the Lord three times before concluding with “one.”

Other Old Testament passages also suggest plurality within God’s unity. For example: Gen 1:1-2 and 1:26 speak of God creating with His Spirit and using the plural “Let Us make man in Our image.” The Angel of the Lord appears as a divine yet distinct figure (Gen 16:7-13; 22:11-18; Exo 3:2-6; Judg 13:18-22). The Spirit of God is active in the Psalms and prophets (Ps 51:11; Isa 63:10-11; 48:16; Eze 36:26-27). Prophet Zechariah (2:10-11) even speaks of “two Yahwehs.” Yet, the fullness of this mystery is only fully revealed in the New Testament.

One of the most definitive Trinitarian passages is Matthew 28:19: “Baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” Here, Jesus speaks of one name, yet within that one name are three distinct Persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

However, the Trinity is more than a biblical truth, but it is the most precious gift to us. As St. Paul writes, “No one can say, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ except by the Holy Spirit” (1 Cor 12:3). The Spirit infuses faith in our hearts, enabling us to confess Christ, the Son of the Father. The same Spirit pours hope into us amid trials, especially for confessing the true God (Rom 5:3-5). And when we love, even those hardest to love, we participate in the life of the Triune God, whose very essence is love (1 Jn 4:8).

The Trinity is not merely a doctrine to profess but a mystery we live daily. We enter Christian life through Trinitarian baptism. As Catholics and Orthodox, we begin prayers with the Sign of the Cross, invoking the Father, Son, and Spirit. In the Eucharist, the Holy Spirit transforms the bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood, offered to the Father as the perfect sacrifice.

As we celebrate this greatest mystery of our faith, let us give thanks that God invites us into His very life—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—now and forever.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide Question:

How do we relate with the Holy Trinity? When the first time, we recognize the truth about the Trinity? How do we relate to the Father? How do we relate to Jesus? How do we relate to the Holy Spirit?

We are Precious

7th Sunday of Easter [C]

June 1, 2025

John 17:20-26

Jesus died for us and rose from the dead to save us from sin and death. He did all this because He loves us deeply. As Jesus Himself said, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). But why does He love us so much? Why does He consider us dear enough to give His life for us?

One of the most profound answers lies in 1 John 4:8, “God is love.” Love is not just something God does; it is who He is. Because His very nature is love, He cannot help but love us. Jesus’ love flows naturally from His identity. At the same time, Scripture reveals that we are made in God’s image (Gen 1:26-27). This means we are fashioned in the likeness of Love itself. Perhaps this is why we only find true fulfilment when we live out our deepest purpose: to love as God loves (John 13:34) and to be loved by Him.

Yet, as I reflect further on Scripture, I find something even more beautiful. In today’s Gospel, Jesus prays to the Father—not only for His disciples but also for those who would come to believe through their message, which includes us. He prays that we may be united with one another and with Him, just as He and the Father are one. Then, He reveals something astonishing: “Father, I desire that those you have given me may be with me where I am” (John 17:24). We are the Father’s gift to Jesus. We are a living expression of the Father’s love for His Son.

This truth is deeply relatable. When we love someone, we often give them a precious gift as a token of our affection, and to the recipient, that gift becomes irreplaceable. A wedding ring, for example, is treasured not merely for its material value but because it symbolizes a spouse’s love. But we are far more than gold or jewels. God marvellously created us to be perfect gifts of love for His Son. Is it any wonder, then, that Jesus cherishes us so dearly? He willingly gave His life for us because every time He sees us He sees the proof of His Father’s love. He just could not bear the thought of losing us or being separated from us.

Today, in some countries like the Philippines and Italy, the Church celebrates Jesus’ Ascension into heaven. The image often shown is of Jesus rising while His disciples remain below. But He is not leaving us behind—He is drawing us closer to the Father. Why? Because we are precious to God. We are, at the very core of our being, the Father’s gift to His beloved Son.

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Questions for reflection:
Do we realize that we are precious in God’s eyes? Do we live as the precious one of God? How do we live as the Father’s gifts? How do we share the gifts we receive from God?

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. 

Rome

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.

Rome

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? 

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?

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”?

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?