My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, magandang umaga po sa inyong lahat . Today's Gospel from Luke takes us to a familiar Filipino sc...
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, magandang umaga po sa inyong lahat.
Today's Gospel from Luke takes us to a familiar Filipino scene: a dinner party. We can all picture it, can't we? The bustling kitchen, the array of delicious food, and the kumare and kumpare arriving, all dressed up. Jesus, the attentive guest, observes something we've all seen, perhaps even been a part of—the subtle competition for the best seat at the table. He watches as guests clamor for a place of honor, a seat closer to the head of the table.
In a culture that so values respect and social standing, this scene resonates deeply with us. We have terms for it: pakikisama, utang na loob, or even kapit sa patalim to get ahead. Jesus, however, offers a profoundly different path. He tells us, "When you are invited, go and take the lowest place." He's speaking to us about the virtue of humility. This isn't about being weak or thinking less of ourselves. No, humility is the quiet confidence that understands true worth comes not from the approval of others, but from our relationship with God. It’s the grace that allows us to find peace in serving, not in being served.
I am reminded of the reminder of Cardinal Ambo yesterday during the Conference. When I arrived in the Philippines to stay for good, I was reminded from time to time of traditional people to use the proper way of calling priests, bishops or those in the hierarchy, which was not part part of my vocabulary since I stayed in Rome for a long time. We call them there by name. And so when I introduced him yesterday, I have had to use the word "His Eminence" which I did not know he doesn't like. And so he corrected the prestige calling right before his talk. And I like his idea of totally dropping those prestige calling and stay humble at all times. I told him at the end of the conference that if we were in Rome, I will only call him Ambo as I call my General Mathew and our Cardinal as only Aquilino. Humility. How I wish all of those in the higher ups are like him.
This humility is the true foundation of our faith and leads us to the second word: holiness. In the letter to the Hebrews, we hear an extraordinary description of our spiritual journey. The author tells us we are not approaching a foreboding, fiery mountain like the Israelites at Sinai. Instead, we are approaching "Mount Zion and the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem." We are called not to fear, but to a relationship. We are called to be saints. Holiness is not just for the santo and santa in our altars. It is for us, the ordinary people of God. It is a daily, moment-by-moment commitment to love God and our neighbors. A humble heart is the only vessel that can truly receive God’s grace and be filled with holiness. It is the daily effort to be a little kinder, a little more patient, and a little more forgiving.
Finally, we come to the word that binds it all together: hospitality. Jesus tells us to invite not those who can repay us, but "the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind." He is inviting us to a different kind of Filipino feast, one where everyone is welcome, especially those who have been forgotten or cast aside by society. This is the hospitality of the Kingdom of God, a hospitality that expects nothing in return.
Let me tell a story: "The sun was already setting over the rice fields of a small barrio in Iloilo when a young man named Carlos got a flat tire on his bicycle. He was miles away from any town, and the light was fading fast. Just as he was starting to feel a familiar knot of frustration, an old woman named Lola Elena, emerged from a tiny hut nearby. She was carrying a small basket of fresh mangoes. "It's a beautiful sunset, isn't it, hijo?" she said with a kind smile. "But it's no good to get stuck here. Come, come inside." Lola Elena's home was a simple kubo with a single lightbulb. She didn't have much, but she treated Carlos like a long-lost son. She gave him a sweet mango, a glass of water, and a stool to rest on. She and her grandson, a boy of about ten, worked together to patch his tire using a makeshift kit. While they worked, she told him stories of the barrio, of how everyone looked out for one another, and of how a traveler should never be left to face the night alone. By the time the tire was fixed, the moon was high in the sky. Carlos tried to give her some money, but Lola Elena simply patted his hand. "The kindness of a stranger is a gift from God," she said. "We don't sell God's gifts." As Carlos pedaled away, his heart felt lighter than his bicycle. He had come across a simple act of hospitality, but it had filled him with a warmth that the setting sun could never provide. He realized he hadn't just gotten his tire fixed; he had been given a lesson in generosity that he would carry with him for the rest of his journey."As we leave this Mass today, let us take these three words with us: Humility, Holiness, and Hospitality. Let us seek to take the lowest place, to grow in our relationship with God, and to open our hearts and homes to all, especially those who need it most. For in doing so, we are not only following the command of Christ, but we are also bringing a piece of the Kingdom of God here, in our homes, and our communities.
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