We and Our Popes

6th Sunday of Easter [C]

May 25, 2025

Acts 15:1-2, 22-29

The Catholic Church experiences a profound and historic moment this Easter 2025. Pope Francis, a beloved yet polarizing figure, passed away just a day after delivering his Easter Sunday blessing. His funeral Mass the following Saturday drew hundreds of thousands of mourners, reflecting the deep impact of his papacy. As the cardinals gathered for the conclave, the world watched in anticipation. Then, on May 8, white smoke billowed from the Sistine Chapel. “Habemus Papam!” We have a new pope, and his name is Leo XIV, the first North American pope and the first from the Order of St. Augustine. Thousands of faithful rejoiced in St. Peter’s Square, hopeful for a new chapter in the Church.

Pope Francis’ legacy was marked by both admiration and controversy. Many cherished his compassion for the poor and marginalized, while others struggled with some of his statements and decisions. Now, with Pope Leo XIV’s election, there is hope for unity and peace in the Church. Yet, like any human leader, he would also say or do something that are not according to our wishes. How, then, should we respond to this reality?

The key lies in distinguishing true devotion from fanaticism. Fanaticism is a disorder attraction and it distorts our perception of the papacy, turning admiration into idolatry. It blinds us to the humanity of the pope, making us believe he is infallible in all matters, not just those of faith and morals, and leads us to dismiss or attack those who criticize him. Worse still, it can lead to contempt for other popes simply because they differ from our preferred leader. This extreme attachment often backfires; when our idealized pope falls short of expectations, disillusionment sets in, sometimes even driving people away from the Church entirely.

True devotion, on the other hand, is rooted in love for Christ, who entrusted Peter and his successors with the care of His flock. We honor the pope not primarily because of his personal qualities but because of his sacred role as the Vicar of Christ. In simple term, we love our popes because we love Jesus.

The first reading reminds us of St. Peter’s leadership in the early Church. When the apostles and elders gathered in Jerusalem and debated whether Gentile converts must follow Mosaic law. Some elders wanted that they should be Jewish before Christians, meaning they had to be circumcised and followed Mosaic laws strictly. Others like St. Paul and Barnabas wanted that the Gentile converts be free from Mosaic laws. Finally, Peter stood and made the final decision: they were not bound by such obligations. The council accepted his authority, knowing it came from Christ. Yet Peter himself was not flawless. In another instance, Paul openly corrected him for failing to uphold his own teaching (Gal 2:11-14). Paul’s rebuke was not born of hatred but of love; a desire to strengthen Peter in his God-given mission.

Like Peter, every pope carries the weighty responsibility of shepherding the Church. And like Peter, they remain human, susceptible to weakness and error. Our role is to support them with prayer, especially in times of trial, and to uphold the Church with both faith and discernment.

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Questions for reflection:

How do we see our popes? How do we love our popes? Do we ever struggle to understand our popes? How often do we pray for our popes?

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. 

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? 

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.

Rome

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!

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Guide questions:

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

Jesus, Not Our Ordinary King

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

April 13, 2025

Luke 19:28-40 and Luke 22:14–23:56

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Guide Questions:

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

Love and Betrayal

5th Sunday of Lent [C]

April 6, 2025

John 8:1-11

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

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

The Prodigal Father

4th Sunday of Lent [C]

March 30, 2025

Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

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

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

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

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

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

Rome

Valentinus Bayuhadi Ruseno, OP

Reflection Questions:

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

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”?