Can a woman forget her baby?

“Can a woman forget her baby? 

Can she forget the child who came from her body? 

Even if she can forget her children, 

I will never forget you..."

(Is. 49:15)

Saint Joseph: The Silent Shepherd of Souls...

He was a father, yet none bore his name,
No bloodline claimed, no heir to his fame.
He held a Son whom he did not beget,
Yet in his arms, God’s salvation was set.

He was a husband, yet love took no claim,
No passions to tame, no rights to proclaim.
His vow was silence, his bond was grace,
A love unconsumed, yet time cannot erase.

He was a dreamer, yet not for his gain,
No visions of riches, no titles to reign.
His dreams were of angels, of warnings, of flight,
To guard what was sacred in faith’s solemn night.

He was a protector, yet owned not a thing,
No riches for himself, no treasures to cling.
Yet dangers he shielded, through desert and fear,
A guardian unseen, steadfast, and near.

He was a worker, yet labored unknown,
Carving and shaping, yet pride wasn’t his own.
A table, a shelter, for others he made,
A life poured out, yet love never fades.

The saint of the hidden, the uprooted, and the sent,

Those in between, the few, and whose identity is bent.

Of priests and the vowed, in missions unknown, 
Migrants and refugees, in lands not their own. 

In his shadow, their purpose glows,
They who give without taking, counting no cost.
With empty hands and silence sage,
They find their gift and rise new again.

In Salvation’s great economy, his name whispers low,
Faithful and righteous, content to let go.
In the loss of self, Saint Joseph found his call,
The father of exiles, the silent shepherd of souls.

 

(Inspired by the morning prayer on the Feast of St. Joseph, the Spouse of Mary, Our Mother - 19^th March, 2025)

A Priest's Prayer Before and After Mass...

Let This Offering Live Till I Kneel Again...

When the table is set and the candles glow,
The ashes are waiting, the water stands still,
The wine is cupped, and the bread lies low—
Prepare my soul, Lord, my longing, my will,
For the burnt offering I am about to make...

 

As wax dissolves and dust anoints,

Grape’s crimson stains my hands,

The unleavened bread in silence breaks—
Crush my soul, Lord, my dreams, my plans,
Like the sacrifice trembling in my grasp...

 

As embers whisper beneath my breath,
Wine and wax entwine in the air,
Bread’s broken scent defies even death—
Renew my soul, Lord, my life, my prayer,
As a fragrance of offering rising to You...

 

As I taste Your body and drink Your blood,
Let our flesh meet, and our blood entwine,
Flowing through every artery and vein like a sacred flood—
Heal my soul, Lord, my past, and my pains,
As a burnt offering, holy and new...

And then, when I rinse the chalice and wipe the bowl,
Blow out the candles, let shadows descend,
Fold the linens and cleanse the coal—
Make my soul, Lord, my dawns without end,
Let this offering live till I kneel again...

(Ash Wednesday Inspiration...)

Embracing the Vulnerable with Christ’s Love...

 Fernando, R. (2024, March 1). Embracing the vulnerable with Christ’s love. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/030125.html

Reading 1, Sirach 17:1-15
Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 103:13-14, 15-16, 17-18
Gospel, Mark 10:13-16

In today’s Gospel, Jesus welcomes the children with open arms, despite the disciples’ rebuke. If we take "children" to mean those who are vulnerable—those whom others can easily lead astray—we see a powerful call to action. Jesus does not turn away those who are fragile, marginalized, or struggling. Instead, He draws them close, blesses them, and affirms their place in the Kingdom of God. Jesus' indignation at the disciples' actions reminds us that we are called to protect, uplift, and guide those who are easily influenced or harmed by the world around them. He challenges us to not be obstacles but rather bridges that lead others to grace, healing, and love.

Similarly, Jesus teaches that embracing vulnerability is the key to the Kingdom. To accept the Kingdom of God like a child means to approach our faith with trust, humility, and openness—recognizing our dependence on God and allowing His love to shape our lives. Today, let us ask ourselves: 

1.     Who are the "children" in our midst who need our support? 

2.     How often do we, knowingly or unknowingly, push away the vulnerable in our communities, dismiss their struggles, silence their voices, or fail to offer the support they need?

3.     How can we be instruments of God's mercy, ensuring that no one is led into sin or despair by neglect or indifference, but let toward hope and belonging in the Kingdom of God?

How peacefully does the Lord sleep in my heart?

 Fernando, R. (2024, February 1). How peacefully does the Lord sleep in my heart? Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/020125.html

Reading 1, Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19

Responsorial Psalm, Luke 1:69-70, 71-72, 73-75

Gospel, Mark 4:35-41

Today’s Gospel passage from Mark 4:35-41 reveals a profound truth about faith and the state of our hearts. The disciples, overwhelmed by fear amidst the storm, woke Jesus from His sleep, doubting His care for them. His response, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” challenges us to reflect on whether our hearts are similarly restless, lacking trust in His divine power.

Faith, as described in Hebrews, is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Abraham’s journey exemplifies unwavering trust in God. He stepped into the unknown, dwelled as a stranger, and was willing to offer his only son, believing in God’s promises even when they seemed impossible. His faith was steadfast because he trusted the one who made the promise, allowing God to "prepare a city" for him. Likewise, the psalm reminds us that God fulfills His promises, raising up a Savior and showing mercy to His people. This assurance invites us to let our hearts rest in His faithfulness. 

Yet, when storms arise in our lives, do we mirror the disciples, panicked and doubtful, or Abraham, grounded in trust? Letting the Lord "sleep peacefully" in our hearts means surrendering our fears and placing full confidence in His providence. It means trusting that He holds our lives in His hands, even when the waves threaten to capsize our boat. Flickering faith agitates the heart, while steadfast trust brings calm, just as Jesus calmed the storm.

As today’s scripture challenges us to grow in faith, allowing the peace of Christ to reign within us, it also assures us that when we trust in God’s promises, we can face life’s storms with confidence, knowing that the One who commands the wind and sea dwells within us. Therefore, let us ask ourselves,

1. How peaceful or disturbed is the sleep of Our Lord within my heart today?
2. How can I cultivate a deeper, steadier faith that allows the Lord to rest peacefully in my heart, even during life’s storms?
3. What specific areas of my life reveal a lack of trust in God, and how can I surrender them to His care?
4. In moments of fear or uncertainty, how do I respond—like the disciples with doubt or like Abraham with faith?

Love Your Neighbor, Love Your God...

Fernando, R. (2024, January 9). Love your neighbor, love your God. Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/010925.html

Reading 1, First John 4:19-5:4
Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 72:1-2, 14-15, 17
Gospel, Luke 4:14-22

The First Reading of the day emphasizes a profound truth: loving God and loving our neighbor are as inseparable as two sides of a coin. This concept resonates deeply, challenging us to examine the authenticity of our love for God through the way we treat those around us. If we claim to love God yet harbor hate or indifference toward our neighbor—the ‘other’ who is different from us in every sense of the word—we contradict the very essence of God's commandment, which is love.

Throughout the economy or plan of salvation, we see that God's love is unconditional and encompassing, extending especially to the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed. As the Gospel text of the day reminds us, the exemplification of this love culminated in Jesus, whose mission was to bring hope and liberation to those most in need. His birth in a poor stable, which we just celebrated, his public life lived not only as a poor but also with and for the poor, his teachings and healings aimed at uplifting the marginalized, his death on a cross as a victim of political rivalry, and his burial in an abandoned tomb remind us that true love is action—it is feeding the hungry, comforting the sorrowful, advocating for justice, and extending compassion through one’s whole life and work. To love God is to mirror this love to others, particularly those who are vulnerable, forgotten, and different from us.

This is why God’s commandments are not burdensome but life-giving. By loving our neighbors, we not only fulfill God’s will but also experience the joy and freedom of living in harmony with ourselves, with each other, with creation, and ultimately with God Himself. Hence, our faith in God is emancipating, helping us conquer the world and overcome its narrow ways, transforming it into a place of hope, compassion, and love. 

As we reflect on the readings today, especially looking toward the New Year ahead, let us ask: Who is my neighbor in need of love today? It might be someone struggling with loneliness, a family facing financial hardship, or a community overlooked by society, such as migrants and refugees. The call is clear: to make this year acceptable to the Lord, what must I do to serve and uplift those who are most in need? 

 

Knowing Christ: By Doings or By Being?

Fernando, R. (2024, December 16). Knowing Christ: By doings or beings? Online Ministries: Creighton University. https://onlineministries.creighton.edu/CollaborativeMinistry/121624 

Reading 1, Numbers 24:2-7, 15-17

Responsorial Psalm, Psalms 25:4-5, 6-7, 8-9

Gospel, Matthew 21:23-27

In the gospel text of today, the question of authority takes center stage. Jesus’ works bore the unmistakable fruit of love, healing, and justice—testaments to divine authority. Yet, the chief priests and elders, caught in their own web of worldly authority, power, positions, and privileges, hesitated to confront the truth, the truth of who Jesus is. Hence, they questioned him, saying: “By what authority are you doing these things?” seeking to trap him based on His doings rather than to understand him for who He is. 

Perhaps, it is this reluctance on their part to accept Him at least for what He does—let alone for who He is—that leads Jesus to respond with a question of His own, exposing his opponents’ inability to answer honestly. While the elders’ evasion illustrates the danger of ignorance often masked as neutrality, like them, we too often resist acknowledging truth because it challenges our preconceived notions or compels us to change. This indecision exposes a key Advent theme: the readiness of our hearts to recognize and embrace God, at least for His divine work at work, in us, in the people we encounter, and in the creation.

In contrast, consider Jesus’ question to his disciples, the ones He closely associated with and cherished as His own: “Who do you say I am?” Found elsewhere in the gospel, this question shifts the emphasis from doing (as the chief priests and elders focused on) to being (as Jesus desired His disciples to understood Him). In other words, it moves beyond recognizing Christ by what He does (His outward actions) to knowing Him for who He is—Emmanuel, the Word made flesh, God with us. It requires vulnerability, faith, and love, while it also invites us into deeper commitment. 

As we anticipate the celebration of Christ’s birth, we are invited to reflect on the difference between knowing Christ by His doings v/s knowing Him for who He is, and what that reveals about our own faith journey. In this season of preparation, Jesus asks each of us: “Who am I to you—today, this Christmas, and in your life at this precise moment?” In answering this question, let us keep in mind what Saint Ignatius has to say in this regard: it is by knowing Christ more intimately that we can love Him more ardently; and it is by loving Him more ardently that we can follow Him more closely. 

Can we come to know Christ a little more deeply during this blessed season—if not for who He is but at least for what He has done and continues to do in our lives? May this Advent be a time of honest reflection, allowing us to answer this question with faith, not just in words but in the way we live, work, and carry our being.