The Sorrow and Joy of the Gospel

September 16, 2026 Memorial of Saints Cornelius, Pope, and Cyprian, Bishop, Martyrs Readings for Today Readings for Wednesday of the Twenty-fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus Preaching in the Temple, by Cesare Mariani Video Jesus said to the crowds: “To what shall I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? They are like children who sit in the marketplace and call to one another, ‘We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.’” Luke 7:31–32 The simile Jesus uses in this teaching—“We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep”—portrays a generation that is spiritually unresponsive and resistant to both the joyful and sorrowful invitations of God’s grace. It may seem like a contradiction that the Gospel draws us to grace through both joy and sorrow, but both are essential movements of the heart, preparing us to receive the fullness of salvation. Joy arises from recognizing God’s mercy, His abiding presence, and the hope of eternal life. Holy sorrow, on the other hand, is born when we confront our sin, contemplate Christ’s suffering, and acknowledge the brokenness of the world. The Gospel “plays the flute” when it invites us to rejoice in the nearness of the Kingdom; it “sings a dirge” when it calls us to repentance and conversion. A heart attuned to God responds to both—rejoicing in His blessings and weeping over sin. To ignore either call reveals a deeper hardness of heart, a spiritual insensitivity that neither celebrates divine goodness nor grieves over what separates us from it. The context of this simile is important. After Jesus raised the only son of the widow at Nain, some of John the Baptist’s disciples, who had witnessed the miracle, returned to the Fortress of Machaerus (in modern-day Jordan), where John was imprisoned. They reported to him all they had seen. In response, John sent two of them back to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” (Luke 7:19). Jesus answered, “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind regain their sight, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have the good news proclaimed to them. And blessed is the one who takes no offense at me” (Luke 7:22–23). After John’s disciples departed, Jesus turned to the crowd and delivered this comparison. The children playing the flute represent the joyful proclamation of the Kingdom made manifest through Jesus’ miraculous works and message. The children singing a dirge symbolize John’s call to repentance and preparation for the Messiah. Both were divine invitations—one to rejoice, the other to mourn—and both were largely rejected by that generation. In Heaven, sorrow will be no more and only peace and joy will remain, but in this life, holy sorrow is an indispensable grace we must never avoid. It is one of the Beatitudes: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4). This is not the despair of the world, but a spiritual sorrow—grieving over sin, injustice, and the suffering caused by separation from God. It softens the heart, purifies desire, and opens the soul to receive mercy. It prepares us to experience the joy of forgiveness, healing, spiritual renewal, and the knowledge of the Kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, we must be willing to let the Gospel lead us into both sorrow and joy: sorrow that humbles us and disposes us to repentance, and joy that lifts us into thanksgiving and hope. Only when we embrace both can we enter fully into the rhythm of the Gospel. Reflect today on the disposition of your own heart. Are you moved by the Gospel’s invitation to rejoice in the nearness of God and His blessings? Are you also willing to let your heart be pierced by the sorrow that comes from recognizing sin and the suffering it causes? Ask for the grace of a heart that is fully alive—dancing to the melody of divine joy and weeping with holy sorrow over all that hinders love. By embracing both, you will be drawn more deeply into the mystery of Christ, who came to call both the joyful and the contrite into His Kingdom. My joyful and sorrowful Lord, at times You filled Your disciples with rejoicing; at other times, You permitted them to experience holy sorrow. Both are necessary, each accomplishing what is most needed in the moment. Grant me the grace to embrace both joy and sorrow, so that the full rhythm of the Gospel may take hold of my heart and draw me ever more deeply into Your Kingdom. Jesus, I trust in You.

Commingling of Love and Suffering

Tuesday, September 15, 2026 Memorial of Our Lady of Sorrows Readings for Today

Image via Adobe Stock: Main; Featured Video Jesus’ father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted and you yourself a sword will pierce so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” Luke 2:33–35 It is no liturgical coincidence that the day after we celebrate the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, we honor Our Lady of Sorrows. This close liturgical connection highlights the inseparable union between Christ’s Passion and His Mother’s compassion. The passage above is one of the two optional Gospel readings for today. The other is taken from the foot of the Cross: “Standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (John 19:25). In both passages, we are invited to gaze with reverent love upon the overflowing charity found in the Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Heart. Though she experienced countless moments of profound joy, today we contemplate the holy sorrow she endured as she accompanied her divine Son. From the first moment of her Immaculate Conception, the Blessed Mother’s heart was full of grace. She was preserved from the stain of Original Sin and remained sinless throughout her life by freely obeying every prompting of the Holy Spirit who overshadowed her. For this reason, her Immaculate Heart is unique—no other motherly heart has ever loved so purely, and no other heart has ever suffered so deeply. It is easy to imagine that pure love would exempt a soul from suffering. But all we need to do is look upon the Son of God to know that this is not so. Suffering, sorrow, and the perfection of love are not opposed; they are perfectly united in every holy soul conformed to Christ, as exemplified in His Mother. When we contemplate the Exaltation of the Cross, we behold Jesus crucified—naked, humiliated, and in excruciating agony. Yet that suffering held no power over Him. He conquered it by embracing it, enduring it, and transforming it into the very foundation of Divine Mercy. Likewise, as the Mother of God stood before the exalted Cross of her Son and beheld Him in His final agony, her heart was pierced by the sword that Simeon prophesied on the day of Jesus’ Presentation in the Temple. In that moment, sorrow and love became one. How could she feel otherwise? Had she not loved her Son so deeply, she would not have suffered so profoundly. It was precisely because her love was so pure that her sorrow was so great. There is much to learn from the Sorrowful Heart of the Immaculate Virgin Mary. From her we learn that holy love enables us to suffer with others. This is the essence of the word compassion—to suffer with. When we witness the sins of others—for which Christ suffered—or when we ourselves experience rejection, betrayal, or injustice, we are faced with a choice. We can turn inward in bitterness and self-pity, or we can imitate the Blessed Mother and choose holy compassion, loving even in the midst of pain, rejection, and abuse. Why did our Blessed Mother choose this holy sorrow, this loving compassion? Because love expressed in this way draws sinners back to God. Her compassion, united with Christ’s, became a silent yet powerful invitation for all souls to repent, to believe, and to be healed. Reflect today on the sorrow within your own heart. It is easy to be saddened by loss, hardship, or trials. But sadness is not the same as holy sorrow. Does suffering lead you to compassion and empathy, or does it turn into self-pity? As we ponder the sorrows of our Blessed Mother, pray for the grace to imitate her holy compassion. Embrace your trials with love, and allow mercy to flow from your wounded heart. The Blessed Virgin perfectly exemplifies this sacred charity, and through her intercession and example, we are called to do the same. Our Lady of Sorrows, you stood by your divine Son in His joys and in His sufferings. You felt what He felt, loved with His love, and had compassion for all. Please pray for me, that as I gaze upon the exalted triumph of your Son’s Cross, I may never look away, but look with love, uniting my own crosses with His. Sorrowful Heart of Mary, pray for us. Jesus, I trust in You.

Exalting the Crucified Messiah

Monday, September 14, 2026 Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross Readings for Today

Main Image: The Finding of the Holy Cross, by Nicola Maria Rossi Featured image via Adobe Stock Video Jesus said to Nicodemus: “No one has gone up to heaven except the one who has come down from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” John 3:13–15 Today, as we celebrate the great Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, we are invited to ponder Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus, “a ruler of the Jews” (John 3:1). Nicodemus was one of the few Pharisees who believed in Jesus. In many Eastern Churches, he is honored as a saint. Nicodemus approached Jesus early in His public ministry. By that time, Jesus had called some of His Apostles, performed His first sign at the wedding in Cana, and traveled to Jerusalem for Passover, where He cleansed the Temple, declaring, “Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace” (John 2:16). This was the first major public confrontation between Jesus and the religious leaders, many of whom were scandalized. Nicodemus, however, was moved by grace and came to Jesus secretly by night, saying, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God…” (John 3:2). Today’s Gospel is drawn from that quiet exchange. As their conversation unfolds, Jesus turns Nicodemus’ attention to a mysterious episode from Israel’s history, one Nicodemus would have known well. When the Israelites sinned by speaking against God and Moses, the Lord sent serpents among them. Many of the people died. But when the people repented, God instructed Moses to mount a bronze serpent on a pole; those who looked upon it in faith were healed. Jesus reveals that this ancient sign prefigured something far greater: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” This “lifting up” lies at the heart of today’s feast. The Exaltation of the Holy Cross is more than a remembrance of Christ’s suffering, it is a celebration of His victory. The Cross, once an instrument of Roman execution, has become the Tree of Life. Through His self-offering, Jesus conquered sin and death, transforming a curse into a blessing. Return to Nicodemus. Having witnessed the miracle at Cana, the cleansing of the Temple, and Jesus’ powerful teaching, he was clearly stirred, yet still fearful, which is why he came at night. Imagine him hearing Jesus refer to Moses and the bronze serpent, and then saying, “So must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” The title “Son of Man” comes from the Book of Daniel (7:13–14), in which the prophet sees the “one like a son of man” coming on the clouds of heaven to receive everlasting dominion. Jesus used this title frequently to describe Himself, linking His earthly mission with divine authority. In His encounter with Nicodemus, Jesus veils the deeper meaning. His being “lifted up” refers not to earthly power, but to His Crucifixion. Nicodemus likely didn’t grasp this at the time. He may have assumed Jesus was foretelling a messianic rise to political rule, overthrowing Roman oppression. Only after the Crucifixion and Resurrection would Nicodemus—and the other disciples—begin to understand the true nature of this first revelation that the lifting up of the Son of Man was the lifting of the Cross, the source of healing, life, and eternal glory. Today, we are invited to exalt Christ’s Cross in our own souls. The paradox of the Cross—that such brutal torture and death brings life—is our glory. Because of Jesus’ Cross and the saving power that flowed from it, every suffering we endure, every cross we carry, and every injustice we suffer has the potential to share in the Exultation of the Holy Cross if we allow ourselves to be lifted up with Him, in confidence and rejoicing. Reflect today on the mystery Jesus first revealed in secret. Through His exaltation on the Cross, He brings salvation to all who believe, also enabling our crosses to share in His triumph. Gaze upon the Cross with faith. What once symbolized death has become our hope, our healing, and our path to eternal life. Most highly exalted Lord, though You spoke in veiled language when revealing Your “lifting up” to Nicodemus, You later spoke clearly as You offered Your life on the Cross for the salvation of the world. I pray that You and Your perfect Sacrifice may always be exalted in my heart—first through gratitude and praise, and then through imitation. Lift me up in every cross I carry, so that You may continue to be exalted through my life for the world to see. Jesus, I trust in You.

Exponential Mercy

September 13, 2026 Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A) Readings for Today

Parable of the Unforgiving Servant, by Claude Vignon Video “That is why the kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt.” Matthew 18:23–25 Jesus tells this parable in response to Peter, who asked, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive? As many as seven times?” Peter likely thought he was being generous. But Jesus invited him to go far beyond what he imagined, responding, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.” The context is helpful. Not long before this dialogue, Jesus had changed Simon’s name to Peter—Petros—meaning “rock,” the foundation upon which He would build His Church. He further promised Peter that the gates of hell would not prevail against it and said, “I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven. Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven; and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:19). Soon after that, Jesus took Peter, James, and John up a high mountain, where they were privileged to witness His Transfiguration—a glimpse of His divine glory. Peter had also witnessed many other miracles, some quite personal. For example, when asked by tax collectors whether Jesus paid the Temple tax, Jesus told Peter to go to the sea, cast a hook, and open the mouth of the first fish he caught. Inside, he found a coin worth twice the Temple tax—enough for both Jesus and Peter (Matthew 17:27). Perhaps these recent events in which Peter played a privileged role left him feeling quite favored. He may have begun to think well of himself, sensing a special place in Jesus’ mission. Wanting to demonstrate his spiritual maturity, Peter made what he thought was a generous offer: to forgive his brother up to seven times. In Jewish tradition, to forgive seven times was seen as more than sufficient. The rabbinic teaching often suggested forgiving up to three times, based loosely on interpretations of the Prophet Amos (cf. Amos 1:3). So when Peter offered seven, he was doubling that and adding one for good measure—a symbolic act of exceeding piety. But Jesus’ response radically shifted the paradigm. Seventy-seven times—or, in some manuscripts, seventy times seven—is not a precise numerical limit. It’s a symbolic expression that conveys the idea of limitless forgiveness, echoing God’s own mercy toward sinners. Jesus was not simply raising the bar; He was inviting Peter—and all of us—into the boundless love of the Father. The parable Jesus then taught illustrates this clearly: Because God has shown us immeasurable mercy, we must extend mercy to others. But it also begins with a shocking image. When the king began the accounting and the servant who owed a “huge amount” was brought before him—an amount so large he had no way of repaying—the master ordered that the servant, his wife, his children, and all his property be sold. This illustrates the incalculable debt we owe to God for our sins. Not only are we incapable of repaying it, but even everything we hold dear cannot cover the cost. At the heart of the parable is this truth: Unless we extend limitless mercy to others, we will be held accountable for our own unpayable debt before God. But if we imitate God’s mercy and forgive from the heart, that enormous debt will be entirely wiped away. Reflect today on the mercy you have received from God. Has He not been patient with you, gentle with your faults, and generous with His grace? Now consider someone in your life whom you have found difficult to forgive. Does that person’s offense compare to the debt God has forgiven you? Let this parable challenge you to a deeper conversion of heart, one that forgives as it has been forgiven, not seven times, but seventy-seven times, and more. Only then will the kingdom of Heaven truly reign in you. Most generous Lord, You forgive more than seventy-seven times—more than seventy times seven. Your mercy is unconditional in its origin and limitless in its reach, yet it bears one condition: that I, too, show mercy to others. Grant me, dear Lord, a heart that is merciful like Yours, one that participates in and reflects Your Divine Mercy. May I forgive as I have been forgiven, so that the full debt of my sin may be wiped away and that others may be drawn to You through the witness of mercy in my life. Jesus, I trust in You.

The Interior Life in Action

September 12, 2026 Saturday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Readings for Today Holy Name of the Blessed Vigin Mary—Optional Memorial

Image via Adobe Stock Video Jesus said to his disciples: “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit. For people do not pick figs from thornbushes, nor do they gather grapes from brambles.” Luke 6:43–44 The interior life in Catholic spiritual theology refers to the hidden workings of God’s grace within the soul—silently yet powerfully transforming us from within so that what lies deep in the heart becomes manifest in our exterior actions. Our interior life is the foundation of who we are; our exterior life is the visible and faithful expression of that foundation. In today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches two parables with complementary meanings—both revealing the essential connection between the interior and the exterior. The first parable, the Parable of the Tree and its Fruit, presents the image: “A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit.” The “tree” is a metaphor for the soul, and the inner life of grace to which each of us is called. Though every person is fundamentally “good” by virtue of being created in the image and likeness of God, the goodness to which Jesus refers here is the goodness of a soul transformed by grace—a soul that cooperates with God’s grace and lives by His Word. Such a soul is like a tree that receives the proper nourishment: the rain of divine mercy, the light of truth, the warmth of charity, and the rich soil of the Sacraments and prayer. It is a tree made strong by supernatural grace. But though there is great value in a tree that is healthy and vibrant—just as there is intrinsic value in a soul filled with God’s life—the ultimate purpose of a healthy fruit tree is to bear good fruit for the benefit of others. In a sense, a fruit tree that is strong and beautiful yet bears fruit that no one consumes falls short of its purpose. Likewise, a Christian whose interior life is rich must allow that life to overflow into concrete acts of love, mercy, truth, and service. The “fruit” of our lives—our words, decisions, and deeds—must nourish those around us and draw others into the life of God. If the fruit remains hidden or is spoiled by selfishness or fear, then our interior life has not yet reached its fulfillment. Jesus complements this parable by teaching another that He introduces by saying, “I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them.” He then tells the Parable of the Two Foundations. The first foundation—the well-formed interior life—“is like a man building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when the flood came, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built” (Luke 6:47–48). Just as a strong interior life leads to the good fruit of charity, it also prepares the soul to endure the storms of life. Trials, temptations, and sufferings will inevitably come, but the soul built on Christ will remain steadfast. Conversely, Jesus warns that “the one who listens and does not act is like a person who built a house on the ground without a foundation. When the river burst against it, it collapsed at once and was completely destroyed” (Luke 6:49). A shallow spiritual life—one of sentiment without substance—cannot withstand the forces of this world. It may appear sufficient when all is calm, but it will crumble in the time of testing, producing no fruit. Reflect today on the foundation of your own soul. Have you dug deeply into the life of prayer, embraced the Sacraments, and allowed the Word of God to penetrate and shape every part of your being? Are you bearing fruit that nourishes others, and does your life rest securely upon the unshakable rock of Christ? The integrity of your spiritual house depends entirely on the depth and strength of your interior life. Do not be content with surface appearances. Go deep, and allow the grace of God to make your foundation solid rock, your soul rich, your words good fruit, and your life a dwelling place that endures forever. Lord of Grace and Truth, You continually speak to me and offer the aid of Your grace through prayer and the Sacraments. May I always listen attentively to Your Word and cooperate fully with Your grace, so that the interior life of my soul may be strong—bearing good fruit and withstanding every trial. Jesus, I trust in You.

PAANO KAYO MAGKAROON NG MAGAGANDA AT MATATALINONG ANAK

Kahit ano mang hirap at sakit ang dinaranas niyo sa kasaluyan ay makakamtan niyo pa rin ang ano mang hangarin o layunin niyo sa buhay. 

Ako ay lumaki sa hirap at dusa nang pumanaw nang maaga ang aking ama noong ako pa ay nasa huling taon ng mababang paaralan. Sa maliit na kita ng aking ina bilang isang guro sa mababang paaralan ay naitaguyod niya kaming anim na anak. Subalit pagkatapos ng mataas na paaralan ay hindi ako nakapagpatuloy sa pamantasan. Ako ay nagaral ng shorthand-typing sa isang halos na libreng vocational school nang isang taon upang makahanap ako kaagad ng hanapbuhay. Ako ay nagsimula bilang messenger at nanatili akong bilang clerk ng tatlong taon bago ko naisipan na magpatuloy ng aking pag-aaral sa pamantasan na tinapos ko nang apat na taon habang ako ay kumakayod sa araw at masigasisg na nagaaral sa gabi. Sa bandang huli ay mapalad akong maipasa at maipadala sa Pransiya bilang scholar.

Kung ang tangi niyong hangarin ay magkaroon ng magaganda at matatalinong anak, dapat kayong magsikap at magtiyaga nang matindi sa buhay kahit anong dusa at kahirapan ang dinaranas niyo ngayon. Ito ang sinapit ko bago ko maipasa at makamtan ang scholarship sa Pransiya kung saan ko natagpuan at nakilala ang naging kabiyak ko sa buhay.

Kami ay nagkaroon ng tatlong anak, dalawang lalaki at isang babae. Sila ay magaganda at matatalino sapagkat silang tatlo ay nakatapos ng engineering at  may mahusay at maigi na pamumuhay.

Read more : How I Met My Wife https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/19133557/8833600298442343117

Blinded by Self

September 11, 2026 Friday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Readings for Today

Image via Adobe Stock Video Jesus told his disciples a parable: “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit?” Luke 6:39 As we continue reading from Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain, we encounter what is arguably the shortest parable in all of Scripture—just two brief rhetorical questions: “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit?” Though concise, these lines present a powerful metaphor. Jesus places this parable within a broader moral discourse that warns against rash judgment and exhorts us to mercy. Just before today’s Gospel, He commands, “Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven” (Luke 6:37). In this context, the parable becomes a pointed reminder that those who are spiritually blind should not presume to lead others, lest they both stumble into error. This parable illustrates the importance of interior conversion before we attempt to guide others in the moral life. If we are blinded by pride, sin, or ignorance, we risk not only hurting ourselves but leading others astray as well. In that case, our failure to change—rooted in self-deception—becomes a stumbling block for those we influence. In a modern context, consider a counselor who gives harmful advice to someone in deep distress, a lawyer who misrepresents a client due to incompetence, or a doctor who negligently ignores clear signs of illness, resulting in greater suffering. In each case, the one entrusted with another’s care fails in his duty, not necessarily out of ignorance, but often due to pride, laziness, or complacency. Spiritual blindness is even more dangerous. As the context of this parable suggests, it stems especially from judging, condemning, and refusing to forgive. These sins are destructive because they are cloaked in a false sense of righteousness. Judgment and condemnation foster pride, and pride blinds the soul to the profound depth of divine mercy we are called to extend—even toward those who have gravely wronged us. Immediately following this parable, Jesus offers three maxims that apply directly to its message. First, He says, “No disciple is superior to the teacher; but when fully trained, every disciple will be like his teacher.” This affirms the need for humility and proper formation in the spiritual and moral life. We must become true disciples of Christ, submitting ourselves to His instruction, before presuming to teach or correct others in His name. Second, Jesus asks, “Why do you notice the splinter in your brother’s eye, but do not perceive the wooden beam in your own?” This descriptive image exposes the hypocrisy of focusing on the minor faults of others while remaining blind to our own far more serious sins. Finally, He declares, “You hypocrite! Remove the wooden beam from your eye first; then you will see clearly to remove the splinter in your brother’s eye.” Only when we are purified by grace—when the blinding beam is removed from our own spiritual eyes—can we assist others in seeing the truth. Then, and only then, will our guidance flow from charity rather than pride, from wisdom rather than presumption. Reflect today on whether you try to guide others while remaining spiritually blind yourself. Consider moments when you may have judged, condemned, or withheld forgiveness, thinking you were justified. If so, recognize that Christ does not condemn you, but lovingly calls you to be healed by restoring your spiritual vision with His grace. Only through humility, honest self-examination, and sincere repentance can we be made clear-sighted and truly helpful to others. Most humble and perfect Lord, in Your human nature, You were the perfect expression of the Father’s love, shining light into the darkness of our lives by revealing Your truth and mercy. Help me always to humble myself before You and to remain open to the formation You offer, so that I may not only draw closer to You, but also become a more faithful and powerful instrument of Your presence in the world. Jesus, I trust in You.

MY FABULOUS ITALIAN WEDDING

Our wedding ceremony was held at the Basilica della Santa Casa in Loreto, Italy  on that warm and bright Saturday morning of September 13, 1969. I was so overwhelmed by the guests and the crowds who were present that I could hardly believe that I made my wildest dream ever come true. In retrospect, I could even hardly find the most appropriate superlatives on how to describe my general feeling and state of mind during the ceremony. From my modest and humble beginning, I had the very sentiment so intensely magical that I was living every moment of it like in a dream. It was only during the exchange of vows and the rings that I had woken up and realized it was for real. 

I am so grateful to my parents-in-law that they planned and arranged everything to make the event a very successful and a fabulous wedding. Regardless that the distance was quite a long drive from their place, I requested them specially to have the wedding ceremony take place in Loreto, because it was the church in Bustillos that I often pass by or attend mass every time I go to school and the university. I thanked my friend Alex who sent me the barong shirt that I wore during the reception at the restaurant, thus enhancing my native look.

The event was attended by almost all of my wife's family, relatives and friends. On the other hand, if it were not for the two Filipina friends from the Philippine Mission in Geneva who came, I would have been the only Filipino present.

Divine Love for the Unlovable

September 10, 2026 Thursday of the Twenty-third Week in Ordinary Time Readings for Today

The Sermon on the Mount, by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld Video Jesus said to his disciples: “To you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic. Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back.” Luke 6:27–30 Love, do good, bless, and pray. These four commands form the heart of Jesus’ exhortation in the Sermon on the Plain. They are not merely moral instructions or guiding principles, but are invitations to share in the very life of God through His Divine Mercy. Christian charity must extend to all people—even those who harm us—because authentic love is directed toward the image of God within every person, regardless of someone’s behavior. These commands are the active expression of divine charity, showing that love is not a passive sentiment or fleeting feeling but a deliberate choice to will the good of the other, even at great personal cost. To love one’s enemies requires a movement from natural emotion to supernatural grace. This is not a matter of ignoring evil. Rather, it is an intentional act of agapē—a love rooted in God and ordered toward the true and eternal good of the other. It does not excuse sin or downplay injustice. Instead, it conquers sin through mercy, just as Christ did upon the Cross. When Jesus cried out, “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do,” He did not deny the gravity of their sin; He overcame and overpowered it with Divine Mercy. In this, He gave us the supreme example of what it means to love those who offend us. Doing good to those who hate you means responding to malice with goodness—not for the sake of superficial appeasement, but as a witness to the transforming power of grace. This active goodness breaks the cycle of retaliation—a common and deeply rooted struggle in first-century Israel—and reveals the presence of God’s new and glorious Kingdom, in which grace replaces vengeance and mercy reigns over judgment. When we return good for evil, we imitate the God who causes the sun to rise on both the just and the unjust. This goodness may not always soften the heart of the one who hates, but it will never fail to sanctify the one who chooses to love. Blessing those who curse you means using your words not to wound in return, but to heal, intercede, and edify. A verbal blessing given in the face of curses is not a sign of weakness, but of an inner strength that comes only from union with Christ. It reflects the behavior of the saints, who suffered revilement and ridicule yet responded with praise, truth, and mercy. Such a blessing becomes a form of spiritual warfare, unmasking and disarming evil with the power of grace-filled speech. It turns the tongue into an instrument of redemption rather than revenge. Praying for those who mistreat you is the highest expression of forgiveness. It entrusts the offenders to God’s mercy and seeks their conversion and salvation. Prayer lifts the burden of judgment from our shoulders and places it before the divine tribunal of love. In praying for our persecutors, we become most like Christ, who intercedes not only for His friends but even for those who drove the nails into His hands. This prayer has the power to transform hearts, including our own, and to bring reconciliation where human effort alone would fail. Reflect today on the power of God’s mercy alive in your life. Such divine love is capable of overpowering sin, healing wounds, and restoring hope. Let Divine Mercy consume any resentment you harbor and soften every hardened corner of your heart. Then go forth and extend that same overpowering mercy to those who least deserve it, trusting that in doing so, you will be conformed to the heart of Christ, and that through you, His Kingdom of mercy will shine. Most merciful Lord, You never allowed the sins of others to deter You from loving them with a pure and holy love. You loved Your enemies, did good to those who hated You, blessed those who cursed You, and prayed for those who mistreated You. Please purify my heart and unite it with Your own, so that the love I offer others may flow first from You and then, through me, to them. Jesus, I trust in You.