It seemed like an ordinary trip

At the time, Spencer Stone was 23 years old. He was traveling through Europe with his childhood friends Alek Skarlatos and Anthony Sadler. On August 21, 2015, they were aboard Thalys train 9364, a high-speed train bound for Paris carrying 554 passengers.

It seemed like an ordinary trip.

Then a man emerged from a restroom carrying an AK-47.

Panic spread through the carriage. Some passengers hid under their seats. A French-American professor, Mark Moogalian, reacted immediately and tried to wrestle the weapon away from the attacker. During the struggle, he was shot.

The terrorist was armed not only with the rifle, but also with a handgun, a box cutter, and hundreds of rounds of ammunition. The train was speeding through France, and there was nowhere to escape.

Spencer Stone did not have a plan.

He stood up and ran toward the gunman.

Alek Skarlatos followed him immediately. Anthony Sadler came right behind them. Moments later, they were joined by Chris Norman, a 62-year-old British businessman who had never met the three young men before that day.

A violent struggle began.

Stone was the first to reach the attacker and grapple with him. The man pulled out a box cutter and slashed Stone multiple times across the face, neck, and hands. One wound to the neck came dangerously close to being fatal. One of his thumbs was nearly severed. Blood quickly covered the floor of the train car.

But none of the four men let go.

After about ninety seconds, they managed to overpower the attacker, disarm him, and tie him up using belts and a necktie.

Only then did Spencer collapse.

He was losing a great deal of blood and struggling to remain conscious. A few feet away lay Mark Moogalian, critically wounded from the gunshot he had suffered at the beginning of the attack.

Despite his own injuries, Stone crawled over to him.

With one hand pressed against the wound on his neck and the other helping Moogalian, he tried to keep him alive until emergency responders arrived after the train made an emergency stop.

Doctors later said the wound to Stone’s neck had missed a fatal outcome by only a few millimeters.

Stone survived.

When he woke up after surgery, the first question he asked was not about himself.

He asked whether anyone had died.

The answer was no.

Three days later, in Paris, President François Hollande awarded Spencer Stone, Alek Skarlatos, Anthony Sadler, and Chris Norman the Legion of Honour, France’s highest decoration. They were later received at the White House as well.

In the years that followed, Spencer Stone consistently downplayed his role, often saying that he had simply done what he believed was right in that moment.

But on August 21, 2015, aboard a high-speed train bound for Paris, a decision made in a matter of seconds helped prevent a tragedy that could have claimed hundreds of lives.

Meeting Us Where We Are At

May 22, 2026 Friday of the Seventh Week of Easter Readings for Today Saint Rita of Cascia—Optional Memorial

Christ's Charge to Peter by Raphael Video After Jesus had revealed himself to his disciples and eaten breakfast with them, he said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon Peter answered him, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He then said to Simon Peter a second time…” John 21:15–16 Today’s resurrection appearance is the third time Jesus appeared to His disciples, as recorded in John’s Gospel. It took place while seven of the Apostles were fishing. Following a miraculous catch of fish, they recognized Jesus on the shore. After they went to Him, Jesus cooked breakfast and asked Peter three times if he loved Him. The first time Jesus asked Peter if he loved Him, Jesus used the verb agapáō (from the noun agápē), but Peter responded with the verb philéō: “‘Simon, son of John, do you agapáō Me more than these?’” Simon Peter answered Him, “‘Yes, Lord, You know that I philéō You.’” The word agapáō refers to a deeper form of love—a self-sacrificial, total commitment that reflects the love of God for humanity. It involves a love that is not just affection but is marked by a willingness to sacrifice for the good of the other, the kind of love exemplified by Jesus Himself. Peter’s use of the word philéō, on the other hand, refers to a more affectionate, friendly love, often associated with a deeper, more humanly focused bond of friendship. While sincere, it is less intense and self-sacrificial than agápē love. The second time Jesus asks the question, He again uses agapáō, and Peter again responds with philéō. The third time, Jesus shifts His question to match Peter’s response, using philéō: “Simon, son of John, do you philéō Me?” Peter responds again with philéō: “Lord, You know everything; You know that I philéō You.” This shift to philéō in the third question shows that Jesus meets Peter where he is, acknowledging Peter’s limitations and his current ability to love with a more affectionate, rather than sacrificial, love. This exchange also highlights Peter’s awareness of his weakness and his humility in acknowledging that he cannot yet love with the full depth of agápē to which Jesus is calling him. At the end of the conversation, Jesus states: “Amen, amen, I say to you, when you were younger, you used to dress yourself and go where you wanted; but when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go” (John 21:18). Jesus was not only prophesying that Peter would die as a martyr, but also that through his martyrdom, Peter’s death would glorify God, as it would be the ultimate expression of the sacrificial agápē love to which Jesus had called him. This promise to Peter would have given him hope for the future, even as he faced the challenge of his calling. Despite Peter’s weakness and inability to express agápē, Jesus not only meets Peter where he is but also gives him a threefold mission of divine importance. He says, “Feed My lambs…tend My sheep…feed My sheep.” While these commands might seem similar, they differ in their emphasis. To “feed My lambs” implies Peter’s mission to care for those who are weak in faith and in need of the initial nourishment of the Word of God. To “tend My sheep” means to shepherd and guide the mature Christians. To “feed My sheep” emphasizes the need for those mature in their faith to receive nourishment through a deeper understanding of the Word of God and the gift of the Eucharist, the Bread of Life. Though Peter was imperfect, struggling with guilt and discouragement over his inability to express the depth of love Jesus was asking of him, Jesus still entrusted him with a divinely inspired mission. Reflect today on God’s invitation to you to love Him and fulfill His mission. Though we are each imperfect and fail in many ways, Jesus continuously asks us for agápē love. Though we struggle to live that depth of love, God, in His mercy, does not wait until we are perfect to send us forth to be His instruments. He wants us to nourish those with little to no faith, strengthen and encourage our brothers and sisters who are stronger in faith, and nourish them by becoming instruments of His pure love. The extent to which we embrace agápē is the extent to which we will be able to fulfill that mission well. But we start today by responding the best we can because Jesus meets us and uses us where we are, while calling us higher. Most loving Lord, Your love for me is perfect, yet mine is imperfect. Please give me hope and draw me ever closer each day to the pure agápē love to which I am called. As I grow in this love, please use me as I am to fulfill the mission You have entrusted to me. Jesus, I trust in You.

Senate of the damned

Antonio P. Contreras

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Senate of the damned

By Antonio Contreras

On the Contrary

The Manila Times

May 19, 2026

THERE was a time when becoming a senator of the Republic meant something.

The Senate used to be imagined as the chamber of statesmen, the institutional sanctuary where intellect, gravitas and historical perspective converged to temper the noise of politics. It was supposed to be the “upper house,” elevated not merely by constitutional design, but by the quality of those who occupied it.

This was the chamber of Claro M. Recto, Lorenzo Tañada, Jovito Salonga, Arturo Tolentino, Aquilino Pimentel and Miriam Defensor-Santiago. Whatever one’s political disagreements with them, these were people whose speeches could wound, persuade, illuminate and terrify all at once. They could debate constitutional law without cue cards. They could interrogate policy without reducing governance into viral soundbites. They understood that public office was not merely visibility, but responsibility.

Today, the Senate resembles a casting call for political reality television.

Instead of statesmen, we have performers. Instead of constitutional guardians, we have influencers with immunity. Instead of deliberation, we have spectacle. The Senate has degenerated into a national coliseum where celebrity, name recall, inherited political machinery and algorithmic popularity matter more than competence, intellectual depth, or moral seriousness.

The current Senate includes Robin Padilla, whose legislative interventions often sound like improvised monologues from a badly written action film; Ronald “Bato” de la Rosa, who has debased the Senate by becoming literally a fugitive in hiding; Rodante Marcoleta, whose political persona thrives on performative outrage and conspiracy-flavored populism; Alan Peter Cayetano, the eternal political shape-shifter whose convictions seem permanently available for lease; and Imee Marcos, whose historical revisionism walks hand in hand with aristocratic entitlement.

The tragedy is not merely that these individuals won. The deeper tragedy is that the institutional design of the Senate itself actively encourages this degeneration.

A nationally elected Senate rewards celebrity over substance.

A Senate elected by an entire country of over a hundred million people naturally advantages movie stars, political dynasties, billionaires, social media personalities and demagogues with massive machinery or pre-existing fame. It is not a chamber designed for careful legislative selection. It is a nationwide popularity contest masquerading as constitutional refinement.

The result is predictable.

Candidates spend hundreds of millions to cultivate visibility, not competence. Public discourse collapses into jingles, memes, dance numbers, endorsements and personality cults. Legislative elections become indistinguishable from entertainment marketing campaigns.

And because senators derive legitimacy from a national constituency, many begin imagining themselves as untouchable political gods. Their egos inflate beyond institutional accountability. Some start behaving less like lawmakers and more like sovereign warlords of public opinion.

The recent political crisis surrounding the impeachment proceedings against Vice President Sara Duterte exposed this decay with painful clarity.

While the House of Representatives, long mocked as the supposedly inferior “lower house,” managed to gather the courage to transmit the impeachment complaint despite enormous political pressure, the Senate descended into maneuvering, hesitation, procedural gamesmanship and factional intrigue.

Two hundred fifty-seven members of the House stood their ground amid threats from the Duterte political machine, online intimidation campaigns, and the bullying atmosphere generated by pro-Duterte forces. Whatever one thinks of individual congressmen, the institution itself demonstrated collective political resolve.

The Senate, meanwhile, looked like a hostage situation disguised as constitutional procedure.

Instead of projecting institutional dignity, it projected fear, opportunism and transactional survivalism. The chamber increasingly appeared controlled by a cabal of senators more concerned with political preservation and alliance management than constitutional duty.

And this is precisely why public trust in the Senate has collapsed.

The recent plunge in its approval and trust ratings is not accidental. Filipinos are beginning to recognize what the Senate has become: not a stabilizing institution, but a destabilizing one. Not a guardian of democracy, but a bottleneck vulnerable to personality cults, dynastic bargaining and elite hostage-taking.

Worse, the Senate now actively undermines democratic accountability.

A small number of nationally elected politicians can stall, dilute, weaponize, or sabotage processes supported by broader institutional consensus. The concentration of power within 24 oversized egos creates paralysis at moments requiring constitutional clarity.

The impeachment controversy demonstrated another disturbing reality: Senators increasingly behave as though they are above the institutions they serve. Some speak as if they are monarchs granting favors to the Constitution rather than public officials bound by it.

This culture is corrosive.

It infects even those who once appeared respectable. Watching Loren Legarda evolve into a political butterfly perpetually fluttering toward whichever configuration preserves relevance is itself a tragic commentary on the institutional environment of the Senate. The chamber does not merely accommodate opportunism. It cultivates it.

Defenders of the Senate argue that abolishing it would weaken checks and balances. But one must ask: What exactly is the Senate checking today?

It no longer reliably checks executive abuse.

It no longer guarantees higher legislative quality.

It no longer elevates national discourse.

It no longer protects institutional integrity.

Instead, it often functions as a theater of vanity where hearings become performance art, investigations become extortionary spectacles, and constitutional responsibilities become subordinate to political branding.

The irony is brutal. The House of Representatives, historically caricatured as parochial and transactional because of district politics, now appears comparatively more grounded, more accountable, and at times more institutionally serious than the Senate. Representatives at least face geographically concentrated constituencies who directly experience the consequences of governance failures. Senators, insulated by nationwide campaigns and celebrity politics, can survive almost entirely on mythology and visibility.

Perhaps the real constitutional anachronism is not unicameralism, but the fantasy that a nationally elected aristocratic chamber still produces aristocrats of intellect and statesmanship.

It no longer does. What it produces are political celebrities with inflated self-importance and weak accountability structures. The Senate has become a monument to democratic distortion: expensive, ego-driven, personality-centered and structurally vulnerable to populist capture.

And increasingly, Filipinos are noticing.

The falling trust ratings are not merely reactions to one controversy. They are symptoms of a deeper exhaustion with institutional theater. People are beginning to ask a once-unthinkable question: If the Senate no longer performs the function it was created for, why should it continue to exist?

That question no longer sounds radical.

It sounds overdue.

Antonio Contreras is a professor at the University of the Philippines Los Baños and vice chairman of the board of state-run PTVNI.

You are a Gift!

May 21, 2026 Thursday of the Seventh Week of Easter Readings for Today Saint Christopher Magallanes, Priest and Martyr and Companions, Martyrs—Optional Memorial

Jesus Christ Praying at the Garden of Gethsemane Video “Father, they are your gift to me. I wish that where I am they also may be with me, that they may see my glory that you gave me, because you loved me before the foundation of the world.” John 17:24 You are the Father’s gift to Jesus the Son. What an amazing reality to understand! This profound truth is at the heart of today’s Gospel in which Jesus speaks of the unique and intimate relationship between the Father, the Son, and all those who believe in Him. Today’s Gospel continues Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer, offered to the Father at the conclusion of the Last Supper, marking His final words recorded in John’s Gospel before the beginning of His Passion. This beautiful prayer encapsulates Jesus’ entire mission and identity, expressing His deep intimacy with the Father and His longing for unity between Himself, the Father, and all those who believe in Him. Through this prayer, Jesus reveals the nature of His relationship with the Father, the unity He desires for His followers, and the eternal glory that is to come for those who are united in Him. The line above not only expresses intimacy between the Father and the Son but also incorporates all the faithful into that intimate relationship. This was and is Jesus’ mission. His love for and union with the Father existed from all eternity. Nothing could change that perfect love. It was, is, and always will be a love so deep and strong that God, in His eternal love, chose to create us to share in that love. Though this love is completely gratuitous on God’s part, freely given and unmerited by us, it’s beautiful to hear Jesus speak of our invitation into the love He shares with the Father as the Father’s gift to the Son. We are not seen as estranged or separate but as gifts freely given and received. In everyday language, a “present” is understood as something that is expected from another, such as on a birthday. In theological terms, a “gift” carries a richer meaning. A gift is something given freely, without expectation of return, and signifies the giver’s love and goodness. A gift, in this sense, is a manifestation of divine love and generosity. It’s not simply an exchange of material items, but a relational exchange—a movement of love between the giver and the receiver. The Father and the Son’s exchange of love is so perfect that everything they have is entirely given to the other, without reservation or expectation of anything in return. This eternal giving and receiving of love is the foundation of the divine communion between them, and it is from that love that the Holy Spirit—the expression of their shared perfect love—proceeds. As Saint Augustine teaches, “And the Holy Spirit, according to the Holy Scriptures, is neither of the Father alone, nor of the Son alone, but of both; and so intimates to us a mutual love, wherewith the Father and the Son reciprocally love one another” (On the Trinity XV.17.27). Again, you are part of that love, making you both the Father’s gift of love to the Son and the Son’s gift of love to the Father, because Their love—the Holy Spirit—dwells within you. What a privilege that is! Understanding this loving reality reveals the dignity that each of us has when we are in a state of grace and transformed into gifts given out of love between the divine persons. This mystical and profound language is essential to ponder, especially because it permeates John’s Gospel and reveals the heart of God’s love for us. Reflect today on how you are the Father’s gift to the Son and the Son’s gift to the Father, made possible by the gift of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. Though we do nothing on our own to merit such dignity, this is the reality into which we are invited. On our part, we must cooperate with grace so that God transforms our souls into gifts of increasing glory and beauty. The more we cooperate with God’s grace, the more glorious a gift we become. Though Heaven will be an eternal existence where each saint delights in the Beatific Vision, it is important to understand that each of us will cause eternal delights in the hearts of the Most Holy Trinity. They will look upon us and see us as gifts given to each of them, resulting in an unending outpouring of divine love. The mystery is great. Reflect on it, meditate on it deeply, and rejoice that you are called to such a life. Most Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—You are a perfect communion of divine Love. Your love is so great, so perfect, so strong, that You have willed to draw me into Your very life, making me a gift of Your love to each other. I thank You for this unfathomable gift and ask the Holy Spirit to dwell within me so that Your mutual self-giving may be glorious. Jesus, I trust in You.

"A Senate Is Not a Safe House for Fugitives”:

 La Vérité·

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"A Senate Is Not a Safe House for Fugitives”: Why Antonio Carpio’s Warning on Bato dela Rosa Is a Defining Test of Philippine Justice

May 20, 2026

There are moments in a nation’s history when one statement slices through all propaganda, all theatrics, all political noise — and exposes the raw moral issue underneath.

Retired Supreme Court Senior Associate Justice Antonio Carpio did exactly that when he declared:

“The Senate cannot be an asylum for fugitives.”

And with that single sentence, Carpio did what too many politicians have failed or refused to do: he stripped away the spin, the tribalism, the manufactured outrage, and forced the country to confront the central question head-on:

If an ordinary Filipino can be arrested under a lawful warrant, why should a powerful senator be treated differently?

That is the heart of this controversy. Not politics. Not personalities. Not partisan loyalty. Accountability.

Because when Carpio further stated:

“If there is a valid warrant and he is avoiding arrest, then he is a fugitive,”

he was not speaking as a partisan attack dog. He was speaking as one of the country’s most respected legal minds — a former Supreme Court justice whose words carry enormous constitutional and legal weight.

And what makes his statement even more explosive is this: it aligns with the language reportedly used by the Office of the Solicitor General itself, which, according to Reuters reports, also referred to Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa as a fugitive in legal filings connected to the ICC issue.

That matters enormously.

Because this is no longer just the opinion of activists, critics, or political opponents. This is now entering the realm of institutional legal characterization.

The implications are staggering.

For years, the Duterte-era drug war was defended with slogans, emotional appeals, and repeated claims that “only criminals were targeted.” But international investigations, human rights documentation, witness accounts, and ICC proceedings have painted a far darker picture: thousands of deaths, allegations of extrajudicial killings, patterns of state violence, and accusations that anti-drug operations became mechanisms for systematic abuse.

At the center of those operations stood Ronald “Bato” dela Rosa — former PNP chief and one of the most visible architects of the drug war.

That is not speculation. That is historical fact.

And now, as the possibility of accountability draws closer, what are the Filipino people witnessing?

Not courage.

Not transparency.

Not a principled willingness to face the accusations in court.

Instead, the public has been confronted with reports of hiding, evasion, Senate sanctuary, political shielding, and alleged efforts to avoid being served.

That is precisely why Carpio’s words struck such a nerve.

Because deep down, many Filipinos understand the painful truth: if a poor tricycle driver, laborer, vendor, or ordinary citizen tried to evade a warrant, authorities would never tolerate it. There would be no Senate protection. No convoy. No political allies forming a human shield. No dramatic speeches about “persecution.”

The law would move swiftly.

But when the accused is politically powerful, suddenly institutions bend, excuses multiply, and legal accountability becomes negotiable.

That is the double standard now enraging many Filipinos.

And this is where the issue becomes even more troubling.

Because the controversy no longer concerns only Bato dela Rosa himself. It increasingly concerns the public officials accused of helping him avoid lawful processes.

Reports and public discussions have pointed to senators and allies allegedly assisting or facilitating his departure from Senate premises during periods of heightened tension surrounding the ICC issue. Those allegations have intensified scrutiny on figures such as Alan Peter Cayetano and Robin Padilla, whose actions are now being dissected not merely politically, but morally and institutionally.

The core issue is simple:

If public officials knowingly help someone evade lawful arrest procedures, what message does that send to the nation?

That laws are optional for the powerful?

That institutions exist to protect political allies instead of justice?

That the Senate can function as a political sanctuary insulated from accountability?

Carpio’s warning cuts directly into that dangerous territory.

“Anybody helping a fugitive evade arrest may be liable for obstruction of justice.”

That statement should alarm every Filipino who still believes in equal protection under the law.

Because obstruction of justice is not a trivial technicality. It strikes at the very foundation of democratic governance. A justice system collapses when those entrusted to uphold the law instead use their positions to frustrate, delay, or sabotage accountability.

And perhaps the most emotionally devastating part of this entire controversy is the symbolism.

The Philippine Senate is supposed to represent the highest ideals of public service, democratic deliberation, and constitutional order. It is not supposed to resemble a fortified refuge for politically connected figures escaping legal scrutiny.

Carpio understood the symbolic damage immediately. That is why his statement resonated so strongly.

“The Senate cannot provide protective custody to a fugitive.”

Sharp. Precise. Devastating.

Because if the Senate becomes a place where political power overrides accountability, then public trust in institutions erodes even further. Citizens begin to conclude that justice is not blind — it is selective. That there are two legal systems in the Philippines: one for ordinary Filipinos, and another for the politically untouchable.

And that perception is deadly to democracy.

Supporters of dela Rosa continue to argue that the ICC has no jurisdiction over the Philippines because the country withdrew from the Rome Statute. But Carpio directly dismantled that argument with legal clarity.

"We cannot question the ICC’s jurisdiction.”

Why? Because under international law principles and the Rome Statute framework itself, alleged crimes committed while the Philippines was still an ICC member remain within the court’s jurisdiction. Even legal filings connected to the government have reportedly acknowledged continuing obligations for acts allegedly committed before withdrawal became effective in 2019.

This is not merely political rhetoric. This is a serious legal issue grounded in treaty obligations, international law, and domestic legislation such as Republic Act No. 9851.

And this is what makes the current moment historic.

The Philippines is now being tested.

Will the country uphold accountability even when politically powerful figures are involved?

Or will institutions once again fold under pressure, personality cults, and political alliances?

Because this controversy is bigger than one senator.

It is about whether public office can become armor against justice.

It is about whether influence can overpower the rule of law.

It is about whether accountability in the Philippines applies only downward — against the poor and powerless — but never upward against the politically connected.

Antonio Carpio’s statements resonated because they articulated what many Filipinos already feel: justice cannot survive in a country where the powerful can allegedly evade accountability while ordinary citizens face the full force of the law every single day.

And perhaps that is why his words landed with such force.

No drama. No theatrics. No screaming.

Just cold constitutional clarity.

A Senate is not a sanctuary.

A warrant is not optional.

And no public official should ever be above the law.

#AccountabilityNow

#LaVeritePH #WeAreLaVerite

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