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Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

The Sower

The Sower Homily delivered by Fr. Mamert Mañus, SJ11 July 2026 | Anticipated Sunday Mass | 15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Isaiah 55:10-11; Psalm 65:10, 1. 12-13, 14: Romans 8:18-23; and Matthew 13:1-23) If there is one thing that unites all four readings today, it is this: God is quietly at work. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Not in ways that always capture our attention, Rather, like rain falling upon the earth. like seeds disappearing into the soil, like a child growing unseen in the womb, God is accomplishing something that we often cannot yet see. That is perhaps one of the hardest lessons of faith. We live in a world that prizes immediate results. We expect instant messages, instant answers, instant success. We measure our efforts by what we can see and count. Yet the kingdom of God follows a very different rhythm. The prophet Isaiah gives us a beautiful image. Rain and snow fall from heaven. They do not return without watering the earth, making it fertile and fruitful. So it is with God’s word. Once God speaks, something begins to happen. We may not notice it immediately. We may even think nothing has changed. But beneath the surface, life is already stirring. The rain never argues with the ground. It simply falls. Quietly. Faithfully. Patiently.So too does the Word of God. Jesus develops that same image in the Gospel. We often hear the Parable of the Sower as a question about ourselves; “Which kind of soil am I?” That is certainly a valid question. But perhaps before asking about the soil, we should first look at the sower. There is something almost surprising about him. He scatters seed everywhere – on the path, among the rocks, into the thorns, and on good soil. Any experienced farmer would probably shake his head. Good seed is precious. Why waste it on places where it cannot possibly grow? Yet Jesus deliberately tells the story this way because he wants us to see something about God. God is astonishingly generous. He does not wait until the soil is perfect before sowing. He does not ration his grace to those who deserve it most. He scatters his Word freely, abundantly, extravagantly, trusting that somewhere, somehow, it will take root. Perhaps that is how God has treated each one of us. None of us came to God because we were already perfect soil. We have all had seasons when our hearts were distracted, wounded, resistant, or crowded by anxiety and fear. Yet God never stopped sowing. He never stopped believing that his grace could still find a place to grow. That is good news-not only for us, but also for anyone who has ever wondered whether their own efforts have been in vain. I imagine that many of our dear Cenacle Sisters know this feeling well, Religious life is, in many ways, a lifetime of sowing. Through prayer, teaching, accompaniment, hospitality, and countless hidden acts of love, seeds have been planted in hearts over many decades. Often, the fruits are never fully seen. Students move on. Families relocate. Ministries change. People forget the names of those who quietly shaped their lives. The same is true for parents, leachers, neighbors, caregivers, and friends. So much of love consists of sowing seeds whose harvest we may never witness. And that can be discouraging. We begin to ask ourselves, “Did anything I did really matter?” Saint Paul speaks directly into that uncertainty. He tells us that al creation is groaning as in labor pains. Notice his image carefully. Labor pains are not signs that life is ending. They are signs that new life is about to begin Paul does not deny the suffering of the world. He knows its hardships well. But he invites us to see them differently. Beneath all the struggles, disappointments, and uncertainties, God is still bringing forth something new. The work of God is often hidden before it becomes visible. That is how seeds grow. That is how rain nourishes the earth. That is how children are formed in the womb. That is how grace transforms a human heart. Perhaps this is also why today’s Psalm overflows with joy. The valleys are clothed with grain. The hills shout for gladness. Everything sings because everything has discovered that fruitfulness ultimately comes from God. Not from our efficiency. Not from our cleverness. But from God’s quiet fidelity. There is a beautiful connection here with the vocation of the Cenacle. The first disciples gathered with Mary in the Upper Room after the Ascension. To anyone looking from the outside, nothing remarkable seemed to be happening. There were no crowds. No miracles. No great achievements. Only a small community praying together in hope. Yet beneath that silence, God was preparing Pentecost. The Upper Room itself became fertile soil. The Cenacle reminds the Church that waiting is not wasted time. Prayer is not inactivity. Hidden fidelity is never fruitless. Some of God’s greatest works begin in places that seem unnoticed by the world. The same is true of our own lives. Some of the most important things happening in your family, your community, your ministry, or even in your own heart may still be invisible. A word of forgiveness. A quiet prayer. A simple act of kindness. A conversation that seemed insignificant. A lifetime of faithful service. These are seeds. We do not always know where they fall, nor how they grow. But God does. Perhaps that is the invitation of today’s readings: not to become obsessed with counting the harvest, but to remain faithful in the sowing. Because the harvest has always belonged to God. I would like to leave you with one final image. When we walk through a forest, we admire the great trees stretching toward the sky. We rarely stop to think about the tiny seeds that disappeared into the earth many years before. Those seeds are no longer visible. They have, in a sense, given themselves away so that life might flourish.

Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of Mary

Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of Mary Homily delivered by Fr. James Santos, SJ 13 June 2026; Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of MaryCenacle Retreat House My dear Sisters, As I prayed over today’s Gospel, I found myself returning to a very personal moment in my life during my novitiate, particularly during my 30-day Spiritual Exercises retreat. It was already the eighth day of silence, prayer, and contemplation. Instead of experiencing peace, I found myself in struggle. I was wrestling with my sense of unworthiness before God. Pakiramdam ko, hindi ako makausad…I felt like I could not move forward. In the silence of those days, I was confronted by my own weaknesses, my wounds, my grief, my compulsions, and sins. Slowly, a painful question began to form in my heart: whether I was truly called to this life, if i’m ready and whether I could really live as a Jesuit given my brokenness. There was even a moment when I feared that I would not be able to finish the retreat. Because during break day, i found out that two of my co-novices left so all the more did I feel sad. Then came the ninth day. After breakfast, I returned to my place of prayer still carrying that heaviness. I had just begun to settle into silence when I heard music coming from the nearby dining hall. It was the song “Huwag Kang Mangamba” a Jesuit song that my parents deeply loved.Huwag kang mangamba, ‘di ka nag-iisaSasamahan kita, saan man magpuntaIka’y mahalaga sa ‘King mga mataMinamahal kita, minamahal kita…..Tinawag kita sa ‘yong pangalanIkaw ay Akin magpakailanmanAko ang Panginoon mo at DiyosTagapagligtas mo at Tagatubos….Sa tubig kita’y sasagipin (dito nagbreak down na ko…)Sa apoy ililigtas man dinAko ang Panginoon mo at DiyosTagapagligtas mo at Tagatubos And in that moment, something unexpected happened within me. It was only the beginning of the song, just the first few notes, but I suddenly found myself in tears. Hindi pa nga umaabot sa chorus, humahagulgol na ako. I could not explain it then, but in that sacred silence, I experienced something very real and very personal: a deep assurance that the Lord was speaking to me. Not in words, but in love. It was as if the Lord was saying quietly in my heart, “James, mahal kita e” And I found myself weeping, not out of fear anymore, but because I was being loved in a way I did not deserve and could not fully comprehend. The experience was overwhelming, not because it was dramatic, but because it was so personal and so tender. It felt as if my heart was being filled beyond its capacity…so full of love that it could no longer contain it. Yung tipong sinisiksik…pinupuno ung puso mo ng pagmamahal pero hindi mo makaya kasi hindi ako sanay tumanggap ng ganung klaseng pagmamahal…..pero sinasabi Nya tanggapin mo lang…. In that moment, I realized that the Lord was not demanding anything from me. He was simply loving me..freely, completely, without condition. Walang hinihinging kapalit. And strangely, it became very difficult to resist that love. Earlier in the retreat, I also remember a contemplation on sin where I saw only the wounded feet of Jesus on the cross. Everything else was dark, but I felt drawn to those feet. I found myself simply staying there in prayer, gently touching the wounds of Christ, contemplating His tired and bruised humanity. At that time, I did not understand what that meant. But after that experience during the song, it became clear to me that Jesus was revealing something very simple and very profound: that His love reaches even into my wounds, and that nothing in my brokenness can separate me from Him. My wounds and His wounds were not barriers, but places of encounter. Looking back, I realized that what I experienced in those moments was not just consolation. It was a deep and abiding assurance that I am loved by God, not because I am worthy, but because He is love. And in that love, I found a freedom that I could not easily refuse. When I shared this with my novice master, I remember saying to him, “Father, noong mismong panahong iyon, parang ang hirap-hirap hindian ng pagmamahal ng Diyos.” At that moment, I realized that God was not forcing me to follow Him. He was simply loving me into freedom. That experience did not end in the novitiate. It has remained with me and continues to shape my understanding of vocation, community, and prayer. It also deepened my devotion to Mary and the Eucharist, because I began to understand more deeply how faith is lived not in clarity, but in trust; not in control, but in surrender. I feel this is what Mary teaches. Ito ang itinuro sa akin ni Maria: ang manatili kahit hindi nauunawaan, at magtiwala kahit hindi malinaw ang daan. In this light, today’s Gospel becomes very close to the heart. We hear of Mary and Joseph searching for Jesus for three days. We see their anxiety, their confusion, and their love. When they finally find Him in the temple, Mary says, “Anak, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” These are the words of a mother who loves deeply and who does not fully understand what is happening. This is not a distant or idealized image of Mary, but a very human one. She searches, she worries, she feels the pain of absence. Ito ang puso ni Maria: pusong marunong magmahal kaya marunong ding maghanap, mag-alala, at masaktan. And yet, what makes Mary’s heart the Immaculate Heart is not that she understands everything. It is that she remains faithful even in the midst of mystery. The Gospel tells us that Mary kept all these things in her heart. She holds it, reflects on it, and entrusts it to God. This same Mary is the one we meet in the Cenacle. The same woman who once

Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

Performative

Performative Homily delivered by Fr. Dom Joseph Bulan, SJ 17 June 2026; Wednesday of the 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year C (2 Kgs 2:1, 6-4 | Ps 31: 20, 21, 24 | Mt 6:1-6, 16-18)Cenacle Retreat House Have you heard of the term “performative”? For the Baby Boomers and the Gen X here today, chances are this might be your first time to hear this word. But for the millennials, Gen Z, and Gen Alpha, you have probably heard this word, “performative” used at least once, if not several times. Ano nga ba ang kahulugan ng salitang “performative”? Back then, something was considered “performative” when it involves or relates to artistic or theatric performance. So usually, stage actors and actresses, as well as movie stars, would be involved in something performative. But in contemporary times, sa panahon ngayon, the word “performative” has taken on a negative meaning. To be labeled as “performative” means to say or do something to make oneself look good, righteous, or virtuous to an audience. Sa Filipino, may salita rin tayo para rito – “pakitang-tao”. (Mas masakit yatang pakinggan kapag nasa wikang atin). Ang pagpapakitang-tao at ang pagiging “performative” ang nais tumbukin ni Hesus sa ating Ebanghelyo ngayon. In our Gospel today, Jesus warns his disciples about being hypocrites, of doing things merely for show. He says, “When you give alms, do not blow a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do.” He likewise tells them, “When you pray, do not stand on street corners so that others may see you.” And regarding fasting, he warns them not to put on gloomy faces just to broadcast their sacrifice. In all these, Jesus is pointing to the same temptation: to turn acts that should be directed towards God into performances directed towards an audience. Instead of worshipping God, one begins to worship the approval and admiration of others. Dear sisters and brothers, within each of us is a temptation to be a “performer” or to be “performative”. We see this in school, whenever a student studies or volunteers for a project, not because it is the right thing to do, but because it will look good on a résumé or impress a teacher. We also see it in the workplace, when someone takes credit for a team’s accomplishment, meticulously crafting an image of competence and success while hiding mistakes and weaknesses. The temptation is not simply to do good, but to be seen doing good.  And yes, this temptation also happens to us priests and religious. Kahit kaming mga pari at mga relihiyoso, natutukso ring magsalita at kumilos upang magmkuhang mabait, katanggap-tanggap, at kapuri-puri sa iba – ika nga ng mga mas nakababata, maging mga cloutchasers. And if I daresay, this temptation is stronger for men and women of the Church. After all, our ministry is public. Here, it becomes very easy to confuse serving God with managing our image before others. Minsan, mas nagiging mahalaga pa ang papuri ng tao kaysa sa katapatan sa Diyos. Minsan, mas nagiging abala pa sa kung ano ang sasabihin ng iba kaysa sa kung ano ang hinihingi ng Panginoon. At minsan, maaari ring mangyari na ginagawa ang tama, ngunit para sa maling dahilan. There may be many reasons why we fall into the trap of being “performative”, but I believe one of them is a deep insecurity about one’s own sense of goodness and self-worth. ‘Yung tipong dahil sa palagay mo, hindi ka mabuting tao, o hindi ka kamahal-mahal, o hindi ka worth it, kaya sinisikap mong gawin ang lahat para magmukhang ganoon. But if there’s anything our Lord reminds us time and again, it is this – we do not have to “perform” in front of him; we do not always have to prove that we are worth his love, his affection, his mercy. We do not say good things or do good things to chase clout from the heavens. Hindi tayo nagsasabi at gumagawa ng mabuti para makapuntos sa Diyos. No. As the recent solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus has reminded us, our God is a God of love, and this love has been freely offered to all of us – independent of our worth, of our past, of what we have said and done. Instead, we intentionally choose to do what is right and just as a participation in the goodness and righteousness of God who first loved us.  So, the next time you are tempted to be “performative”, sa susunod na pagkakataong matutuksong “magpakitang-tao”, ask yourself: “If no one were watching me right now, would I still choose to do this?” And perhaps a second question: “Am I doing this because I love God and neighbor, or because I love the praise and approval that may come from them?”  As we continue with our Eucharist, we beg for the grace of sincerity and integrity of heart. May the Lord free us from the need to constantly perform before himself and others. And may he teach us to do what is good, not for recognition or reward, but simply because we have first experienced the goodness of the God who sees in secret and loves us all the same. Amen.

General, Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

Freedom in Surrender

Freedom in Surrender Homily delivered by Fr. Bien Emmanuel C. Cruz, SJ 15 June 2026; Monday of the 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time (1 Kings 21:1-16 and Matthew 5:38-42)Cenacle Retreat House My dear brothers and sisters, the Word of God today presents two sharply contrasting visions of the human heart. In the first reading, we encounter King Ahab, who sees Naboth’s vineyard and desires it for himself. He is not in need, yet what belongs to another awakens a desire that quickly becomes entitlement. When Naboth refuses—faithful to his inheritance and to the law of God—Ahab does not accept limitation. His desire turns into resentment, and resentment opens the door to injustice. What begins as wanting ends in the violent taking of what was never his to claim. This is more than an ancient political story. It is a revelation of the human heart when it forgets God. It is what happens when desire is no longer shaped by gratitude, when power is no longer guided by responsibility, and when possession is no longer restrained by moral limits. It is the logic of grasping: if I want it, I should have it; if I can take it, it is mine. In the Gospel, Jesus presents a radically different horizon. “Turn the other cheek.” “Give to the one who asks of you.” These are not calls to passivity or weakness. They reveal a deeper strength—the freedom of one who is no longer ruled by the need to dominate, retaliate, or control outcomes. The disciple of Christ is not powerless, but free: free from revenge, free from the anxiety of possession, free from the need to settle every wrong by force or repayment. Both readings place before us a fundamental question: what kind of person are we becoming in the face of desire and injury? Do we become like Ahab—consumed by what we lack and willing to overstep moral boundaries to obtain it? Or do we become like the disciple Jesus envisions—rooted in trust, capable of generosity, and free enough to step outside the cycle of grasping and retaliation? The world teaches a different grammar. It tells us that life is secured through accumulation: more possessions, more achievements, more control over the future. It tells us that relationships are governed by exchange: I give so that I may receive, I help so that I may be helped, I forgive if it is deserved. It is a world of balance sheets and measured reciprocity. But the Gospel quietly disrupts this entire logic. Jesus reveals a life where love is not calculated, forgiveness is not conditional, and generosity is not measured. This is not irresponsibility. It is a deeper freedom grounded in trust in God. Here we meet one of the deepest paradoxes of the spiritual life: to be full, we must first be emptied. We often think fulfillment comes from holding more tightly, securing more guarantees, and controlling more of life. Yet the Gospel—and the experience of faith—reveals the opposite. God fills not what is full, but what is open. This emptiness is not nothingness. It is not despair or loss of identity. It is surrender. It is the interior act of releasing our grip on what we thought we needed so that God may give what we truly need. We surrender our plans, not because planning is wrong, but because our plans are often too small for what God is doing. We surrender our expectations, not because hope is futile, but because God’s generosity exceeds imagination. We surrender control, not because life is chaotic, but because providence is deeper than our calculations. As long as our hands are clenched around our own desires, there is little space for grace. But when we open them—even in uncertainty—we discover that what felt like loss becomes the very place of receiving. This is not only a theological idea; it is also a lived experience. Recently, I received my first pastoral assignment as a priest. I was assigned as Assistant Parish Priest in a small mission parish in the mountains of Bukidnon under the Jesuit missions. It came unexpectedly, without warning or preparation. None of the plans I had quietly formed seemed to apply anymore. At first, there was disorientation. What I thought would be my path suddenly shifted. It felt like something had been taken away. But in time, what seemed like interruption revealed itself as invitation. What felt like loss became the beginning of something deeper. I can now only see it with gratitude: God did not follow my plans; He led me beyond them. There, I began to understand more clearly that God is not competing with our control. He is not waiting for us to get everything right before He acts. Rather, He draws us into His wisdom, often by loosening our grip on our own. What feels like uncertainty can become the beginning of true freedom. It became an opportunity to surrender. And in that surrender, I learned something essential: God does not fill what is already full. He fills what is empty. He does not work on the logic of exchange or “quid pro quo.” His generosity is not transactional. It is overflowing, excessive, and beyond calculation. God is never outdone in generosity. Every gift we offer has already been preceded by His gift. Every act of love is a response to a love that came first. Every surrender is met not with deprivation, but with deeper life. God does not simply return what we give; He transforms it and multiplies it. Seen in this light, Ahab’s tragedy becomes clearer. He cannot accept limits because he does not trust abundance. He believes what he lacks must be taken, because he does not believe it will be given. His grasping becomes his prison. Jesus, on the other hand, reveals the path to true freedom: not the freedom to take what we want, but the freedom to release what we cannot control; not the freedom of possession, but the freedom of

Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

“You are my witnesses.”

“You are my witnesses.” Homily delivered by Fr. Edilberto Cepe, CSsR on the: Feast of Our Lady of the Cenacle, Local Bicentenary Celebration and 35 Years of Cenacle Presence in Cebu@Saint Francis Xavier Chapel, Sacred Heart Parish, Cebu City23 May 2026 Let me begin by saying to you: “The Resurrection is real.” Well, among the Cenacle Sisters here in Cebu, that has become our running joke. I have not been seen in their community for my SD for many months, and whenever I send a message, they reply: “Hala, “Nabanhaw siya!” (He is risen!)             Sisters, I am now standing before you. Tinuod gyud ang Resurrection. (The Resurrection is real). But joking aside, I mean it when I say: the power of the Risen Lord is real. That is the reason for our gathering today. The Risen Lord, who ascended to heaven, did not leave us alone. Together with the Father, He sent us the Spirit of Love, the Holy Spirit, who enables us to be witnesses of His love in our world.             Today, as we celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of the Cenacle, we also offer our thanksgiving and praise to God as we commemorate the bicentenary of the founding of the Congregation of Our Lady of the Retreat in the Cenacle, the Cenacle Sisters, and their 35th year of presence here in Cebu. For two hundred years and for 35 years here in Cebu, God has blessed the Church through your presence and mission.             The Congregation exists to continue the beautiful mystery of the Cenacle: the disciples gathered with Mary in prayerful waiting, expecting the promised outpouring of the Holy Spirit, who would send them forth as witnesses to the ends of the earth.              Yes, the power that raised the Lord Jesus from the dead is the same power given to the disciples and to Mother Mary in the Cenacle. It is the same Spirit who gave birth to the Church and who is given to us today. And it is this same Spirit that called the Cenacle Sisters to continue the mystery of the Cenacle through their life of prayer, community, and apostolic service.             And the readings for this feast remind us that God’s power is always at work among His people.             In the first reading from the prophet Ezekiel (36:23–28), God promises to gather His scattered people, bring them back from exile, and give them a new heart and a new spirit. God restores them so that the nations may know that Israel’s God is faithful, loving, and powerful. As Ezekiel 37 tells us, this power is so great that it can bring forth human life from a valley of dry bones.             This is the same God who raised Jesus from the dead and sent the Holy Spirit upon the disciples, as we hear in the second reading from the Acts of the Apostles. There we find the disciples gathered in prayer with Mary, waiting in hope.             And in the Gospel of Luke (24:44–53), Jesus gives them their mission: “You are my witnesses.” The disciples are not merely to remember Jesus. They are to continue His mission and show the world the Lord’s love, mercy, and compassion.             Those words remind us of the Church’s mission and that of every baptized Christian. They also remind our Cenacle Sisters of the very reason for their existence and charism in the Church. For two centuries, the gift of the Cenacle Congregation has been precious to the world. Ours is a world that is busy, noisy, distracted, divided, and often tired. Many people live without silence, without prayer, without interior peace. Yet the Cenacle charism reminds the Church that before mission, there must be prayer; before speaking, there must be listening; before going out, there must first be entering the Cenacle.             The Sisters teach us that the Church is not only active but also contemplative. The Church does not only work; it also prays. The Church does not only organize; it also waits upon the Spirit. Yes, the Church is active because it is contemplative.             Through retreats, accompaniment, spiritual formation, prayer ministries, and quiet fidelity, the Cenacle Sisters continue to create spaces where people can encounter God, rediscover themselves, and once again listen to the Spirit. In a world hungry for meaning, they become witnesses that God still speaks.             And this celebration naturally leads us to tomorrow’s feast: Pentecost. The Feast of Our Lady of the Cenacle prepares us for Pentecost because the Cenacle is where fearful disciples became courageous witnesses.             And that is also the call for every baptized Christian, for each of us.              We, too, are invited to enter the Cenacle, not only as a place but as an experience. We are called to pray, to listen, and to wait upon the Spirit. And then, like the disciples, we are sent out: “You are my witnesses.” Not only priests. Not only religious. Not only missionaries. All of us.              As parents, teachers, youth, workers, and consecrated persons – wherever we are – we are called to witness to Christ through our words, kindness, service, compassion, and faith. We can only become active and courageous witnesses if we remain rooted in the Cenacle.             My brothers and sisters, today’s feast of the Cenacle and tomorrow’s feast of Pentecost remind us to always return to the roots of our Christian life and mission.                To close, let me return to where I began: The Resurrection is real. Yes, the power of the Risen Lord is real, not simply because I am standing here before you today after many months, but because the Church, born at Pentecost, continues Christ’s mission. Because the same Spirit that descended upon the disciples still animates the Church today. And because the same Spirit that called the first Cenacle Sisters two hundred years ago continues to enrich and renew the Church in our time.             Dear Cenacle Sisters, thank you for being witnesses and for keeping alive the spirit of the Cenacle.   May Our Lady of the Cenacle continue to guide you. May the Holy Spirit strengthen you. And may your lives continue to proclaim to the world: The

Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

Homily | Feast of Our Lady of the Cenacle @ Quezon City

Homily | Feast of Our Lady of the Cenacle @ Quezon City Homily delivered by Fr. John Chong, SJ on the Feast of Our Lady of the CenacleCenacle Retreat House23 May 2026 Today is the spiritual birthday of the Sisters of the Cenacle. It is said that Sr. Thérèse Couderc came to a profound realization of the mystery of self-emptying in the contemplation of the Cenacle, the Upper room in Jerusalem. The self-emptying and humility she discovered / meant making space for the Holy Spirit to work, and “believing that God is already at work.” Since the pandemic, we too have experienced once again a sense of God’s absence. After the Ascension of Jesus, the disciples had no choice but to accept His absence. At that moment, they gathered in the upper room, Cenacle and prayed for God’s next activities among them. Like St. Thérèse Couderc, who understood the humility and self-emptying of the Apostles, let us also make room for the Holy Spirit and trust that God is already at work. Through today’s Mass, let us pray earnestly that the grace of humility and self-emptying may be given to all of us. There are moments in our lives when God seems absent. We pray, but heaven feels silent. We search, but cannot find clear answers. We believe, yet still feel as if something—or Someone—is missing. And yet, the mystery of faith tells us something surprising: what we call “absence” may in fact be a different kind of presence. Today’s celebration of the prayers in the Upper room, the Cenacle, and the coming of the Holy Spirit leads us into this mystery. It brings us into the Upper Room, a place where silence becomes prayer, and waiting becomes hope. 1. The Ascension: not absence, but a new and fuller presence. The Ascension of Jesus is not simply His departure into the sky. It is not a disappearance. Rather, it is a transformation of presence. Christ is no longer limited by time or space. He becomes present in all places, in all moments, in all human history. We might imagine it this way: like entering a glass elevator that rises higher and higher. The higher we go, the wider our vision becomes. What once seemed separate now appears connected; what once seemed distant now becomes visible in a single horizon. So too with the risen Christ. From the perspective of heaven, nothing is lost. Everything is held. Everything is seen. Everything is present. The disciples, however, experienced this differently at first. They saw His “absence.” But instead of falling into despair, they gathered in the Upper Room —the Cenacle— and prayed. Their waiting was not empty. It was the beginning of a deeper communion. 2. The Holy Spirit: the One who reveals the hidden traces of God We are people who search for God. But often, God seems hidden. It feels like a divine “hide-and-seek.” We seek, but do not immediately find. We long, but do not always see. And yet, God never abandons us in hiddenness. He leaves traces. He leaves signs. He leaves whispers of His presence in creation, in history, and in the depth of our conscience. But these traces are not always easy to recognize. This is why Jesus sends the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Spirit of Truth (cf. Jn 16:13). He teaches, He reminds, and He bears witness to Christ (cf. Jn 16:14). He does not speak on His own, but leads us into the truth that we cannot see by ourselves. Without the Holy Spirit, God can remain near—but unnoticed. With the Holy Spirit, even the smallest trace becomes a sign of love. In this sense, the Holy Spirit is not distant or abstract. He is the quiet interior presence who allows us to recognize that we are not orphans, but children of the Father. 3. The Church: renewed in the Upper Room of prayer and waiting The Cenacle—the Upper Room—is not only a place in history. It is a spiritual identity of the Church. It is the place where fear becomes prayer. Where waiting becomes hope. Where absence becomes preparation for new life. After the Ascension, Mary and the apostles did not scatter. They gathered. They prayed. They waited. And in that waiting, the Church was born. Today, we find ourselves in a similar moment. After the pandemic, many communities feel weakened. Church participation has declined. Structures have been shaken. And there is, at times, a sense of loss or even forgetting. But this is not the end of the story. It may be a return to the Upper Room. Because the Church is not renewed first by strategies or numbers. It is renewed by the Holy Spirit. The Spirit of God is the Spirit of power, love, and self-discipline. He strengthens us in our weakness. He speaks in our conscience.He gives courage where there is fear.He gives hope where there is discouragement.And He makes us witnesses again. So today, we stand in the mystery of the Upper Room. We are invited to see differently: what seems like absence is not abandonment. What feels like silence is not emptiness. God is already at work. And the Holy Spirit is given so that we may recognize this hidden work of God. Like Mary and the apostles, we are called to wait—not in fear, but in hope. Not in confusion, but in trust. And like St. Thérèse Couderc, we are invited to humility, to self-emptying, and to the simple faith that God is already present and already acting. So let us return, in our hearts, to the Upper Room. And let us ask once again for the Holy Spirit— to open our eyes, to strengthen our faith, and to renew the Church with His life. Amen.

Features, General, Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

“Jesus wept.”

“Jesus wept.” A homily delivered by Fr Mamert Manus, SJ | Anticipated Sunday Mass Fifth Week of Lent 2026 There is a very short verse in the Gospel that we often pass over quickly, but today it stands at the center of everything: “Jesus wept.” Before the miracle, before the command, before Lazarus walks out of the tomb—Jesus weeps. In the story from the Gospel of John, Jesus does not rush to fix the situation. He first enters into it. He stands before the grief of Martha and Mary, before the confusion, the loss, the silence of death—and He allows Himself to feel it. This tells us something deeply consoling: God is not distant from our pain. He does not wait for us to be strong before coming near. He meets us exactly where we are—in our grief, in our disappointment, even in the quiet places we try to hide from others. For many of us, that is where Lent truly begins. Because Lent is not only about what we give up. It is about what we finally allow ourselves to face: the parts of our lives that feel lifeless, relationships that have grown cold, or the burdens we carry quietly, like stones sealed over a tomb. And it is precisely there that Jesus comes—not with immediate answers, but with presence. He weeps with us. He stays with us. He meets us where we are. Exactly where we are. But the Gospel account does not end there. Standing before the tomb, Jesus cries out: “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man comes out—still wrapped, still bound, still needing help. And then Jesus says: “Untie him and let him go.” Jesus raises Lazarus—but others are called to unbind him. And this is where the Gospel turns toward us. For our lay sisters and brothers here—families, professionals, young people—this is your daily mission. You are called to notice where people are still bound: by fear, by failure or by loneliness or doubt. Sometimes, the most life-giving thing we can do is not dramatic. It is simply to help “unbind” another person: by listening without judgment; by forgiving when it is difficult; or staying when it is easier to walk away, when it is easier to turn away. And for the religious amongst us here, this mission takes on an even deeper meaning. Our vocation is a living witness that the resurrection is real—that a life given to God becomes a life given for others. In our communities, in our ministries, in our quiet fidelity, we are called to be signs of this unbinding: helping others experience the freedom and dignity that come only from God. But here is the humility that the Gospel also invites us to: all of us are both Lazarus, still bound, still unfree; at the same time, we are also the ones called to unbind and free others. There are parts of our lives where we are still in the tomb. And there are moments when God invites us to help others step out of theirs. This is the journey of Lent. It is a journey from death to life—but not in one dramatic moment, not in one fell swoop. It happens slowly: each time we allow Christ to enter our wounds; each time we hear His voice calling out to us and we respond; each time we help another person breathe a little more freely. And so perhaps today we can ask: Where is the place in my life where Jesus is weeping with me? And who is the person He is asking me to help unbind? Because the same voice that called Lazarus from the tomb is still speaking, still calling. And when we allow ourselves to hear it—and when we help others respond to it— then even now, even here, we begin to see what Lent has been leading us to all along: that no tomb is final, no life is beyond reach, and that in Christ, we are always being called—gently, patiently—from death into life. Into fullness of life.

General, Homilies, Homily, Soul Food

Making Love For God Visible

Making Love For God Visible A homily delivered by Fr. John Chong, SJ on Friday of the Third Week of Lent 13 March 2026 Friday of 3rd Week of Lent. March 13, 2026  A scribe once asked Jesus, “Which is the first of all the commandments?” Jesus answered, “The Lord our God is Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.” And then he added, “The second is this: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” When I listen to Jesus’ answer, something strikes me as interesting. The scribe asked for the first commandment. Normally, when we ask a question like that, we expect just one answer. But Jesus gives two. Why did he do that? That is what I would like to reflect on today. But first, let us ask why this question matters at all. Sometimes different commandments can seem to pull us in different directions. For example, we are told to keep the Sabbath holy. We are also told to honor our father and mother. But imagine that your parents are seriously ill and need care on a Sunday. In that situation, those two commandments might seem to conflict. At moments like that, we need to know the deeper principle behind all the commandments. What is the heart of them all? If the heart of every commandment is love, then when two commandments appear to clash, love helps us decide what to do. Now let us return to our original question. Why did Jesus give two commandments when he was asked one? It seems that, in the mind of Jesus, these two cannot be separated. And it is his conviction. Because this was clearly a conviction he had reflected on for a long time. Love of God by itself can become empty. Love of neighbor by itself can lose its direction. Love of God that does not show itself in love for our neighbor becomes hollow. Our love for God must take flesh in our love for others. That’s why Jesus agrees clearly with what the scribe said: “To love your neighbor as yourself is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” The theologian Karl Rahner called this the principle of simultaneity. In this world we cannot love God while excluding our neighbor, and we cannot truly love our neighbor while excluding God. When we love God, we are at the same time loving our neighbor. And when we truly love our neighbor, we are also loving God. Our neighbor becomes the path and the channel through which our love for God becomes real. “To love your neighbor as yourself is worth more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” Today these words may sound familiar to us. But in the time of Jesus, they must have sounded quite revolutionary. They remind us of the words of Pope Francis: “I prefer a Church that is bruised, hurting, and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church that is unhealthy from being closed in and concerned only with its own security.” So today, let us ask for the grace to live this commandment. May this day be a day when our love for God becomes visible in the way we love the people around us.

Features, General, Updates, Updates and Activities

The Gift of an International Experience: Faith Alive!

The Gift of an International Experience: Faith Alive! A Reflection by Sr. Xiaowei Li, rc A particular aspect of formative experience prior to my final vows, that of living with a Cenacle community outside of my region, had to be postponed due to the pandemic. I was glad that it was finally possible to do so in September of 2025 and that I would be with our Sisters in Kremlin Bicêtre (KB for short). These are some highlights that stay with me. Living interculturally – challenges and joys Just when I thought that I was already living in a multicultural community in Cebu, the Sisters in KB community also come from diverse cultural backgrounds – different parts of France, Togo and Madagascar. I was certainly challenged to understand French better (and with different accents too!). Thankfully, the Sisters adapted to my lack of the language and would often check on my understanding and translate or speak English with me.  I was happy to have also been included in the community meetings and to participate in the common life of the community. Knowing that I would need Asian ingredients, I was introduced to the Asian food stores in Paris. All the Sisters in KB cooked really well (and really fast)! It was challenging for me to learn to keep up, but I enjoyed myself sharing some Asian dishes and tasting cuisines of different origins too. One aspect of life in the community that struck me was the way in which the community expressed hospitality. I experienced several times in which the community had welcomed their collaborators, friends, parish dormers and neighbours for a meal. I also find such grace and joy to witness not just the creativity among the Sisters, but also the support that the Sisters show to each other and adapt to one another. Despite my poor language skills, I felt at home and deeply grateful to have experienced the Cenacle in KB.  Accompaniment I am thankful that I also had the opportunities to share time and meals with the other communities in and around Paris, and Lyon! Something which moved me very much was the various moments when the Sisters would offer to accompany me to the train stations (for fear that I might get lost) or to visit various places. For someone who had been so used to being independent and going alone, such experiences stand out for me. I felt thankful for these gracious and sincere gestures – they not only assured me that I do not have to walk alone, they also showed me that they are one with me.  Celebrations It was providential that my time in France coincided with various celebrations and occasions for gatherings. A few days after I arrived, the community had an outing to La Ferme de Gally to mark Sister Yoanna’s 40th birthday. We welcomed a Togolese postulant soon after. We then joined the Montmartre community for the celebration of the Feast of Mother Thérèse with the Sisters from Versailles community. I was also happy to get to meet 2 Sisters from the UK at the celebration.  I was able to attend the 10th anniversary mass of the Créteil diocese Cathedral, Notre Dame de Créteil. The diocese had existed since 1966 but the new Cathedral building was erected in 2015. It was an architectural and engineering marvel that there are absolutely no columns inside the cathedral! (Click here to see/know more.) Beyond just a celebration of the construction of a building, the event had also highlighted how alive the faith of the diocese was with an outreach exhibition showcasing the various movements, organizations and groups in the diocese. Encounters I also had various opportunities to go with and observe the KB Sisters for some of their apostolic services which included spiritual accompaniment/ formation and youth ministries in the Créteil Diocesan Center and in the Jesuit-run Magis Network, catechism to children and other involvements at the Holy Family Parish and at St. Ignatius Church, and with various lay groups (eg. Faith and Light, Fidei), etc.  Among those encounters, some of the young adults had left an impression on me – it was a joy to witness their openness and to hear their faith experiences, their passions and questions about faith and life. I was happy to hear that there is a growing number of catechumens in Paris and a number of them are young people! My time in Paris also coincided with the end of the summer holiday which also marked the beginning of the apostolic and school year.  There was such a burst of activities for young people in Paris! The mass for students at the biggest Church in Paris (St. Sulpice) was packed with 3000 students! There was also a 3-day evangelical Mission Congress that was organized by lay missionaries and Catholic/Christian communities (eg. Emmanuel, Chemin Neuf) in Paris. I was able to attend the youth gathering at the Accor Arena on its final evening with Sister Nathalie. The stadium was filled and the young people (ahem, as well as the young at heart) spent an evening of praise, of listening to testimonies through various forms and an input. The program also included a time of adoration and they even had a round of ‘holy game’ of judo between 2 Christian judokas before they came up on stage to be part of a panel of sportsmen and women for an interview. Apparently, the theme of the evening was ‘Fight the good fight’. (Click here to watch on youtube.). Despite not being able to understand most of what was said, the energy and excitement of faith among the participants were certainly palpable! I was also rather struck by how eager the various institutions and movements were to organize outreach exhibitions and open house during that time. These were opportunities to share about their ministries and to attract participants.  I was also happy to hear that some parishes in Paris are able to provide lodging and pastoral care to students/workers from outside Paris. I

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