Fr. Arnel Aquino

Insane

March 8, 2026

Insane 7 March 2026 | Homily delivered by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ on the Third Sunday of Lent (Anticipated Mass) I don’t know if you also did this back when you were a kid. But I remember, I would go and repeatedly open the refrigerator 3, 4 times in one afternoon, on the off chance that there was something new in there I could eat, even when I knew there wasn’t. I was already a priest when I read that doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results was a classic definition of insanity. From how Jesus described the woman of Samaria at the well, it looked like she was doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a result, different from her 5 failed marriages. But she wasn’t insane. Like Jesus pointed it out to her, this poor woman kept carrying an “empty jar,” a thirst that seemed unquenchable, an emptiness. As you probably know, sisters and brothers, the village well also served as a casual gathering place at the time (like today’s sari-sari store, barberya, basketball court beside the barangay). Incidentally, it was also typical that great people met their future spouses there; like Isaac and Rebekah, Jacob and Rachel, Moses and Zipporah. Meeting at the village well eventually became a literary type, a poetic genre, for marriage in the Bible. If today, “once upon a time” marks the beginning of a fairy tale, back then, “boy-meets-girl-at-the-well” marked the beginning of a love story. But alas, no matter how repeatedly the Samaritan woman drew from the village well for another love story, she wasn’t any less thirsty than last time around. Five husbands. Maybe she was widowed. Or maybe her husband divorced her (women could not file for divorce). Maybe her dead husband’s brother married her (like the Law required), but maybe, he died, too, or, well, divorced her. Whatever the reason, for a woman to go from husband to husband didn’t necessarily mean she was a libertine, a loose woman. She was, after all, betrothed 5 times! Rather, this was a woman who must’ve suffered hard blows from life. She must’ve asked herself constantly what was wrong w/ her, why this curse. Because unless a woman was wedded to a man, she was incomplete, she felt worthless. So, there was nothing wrong w/ the woman at the well. Even if she repeatedly did the same thing but ended up “manless” anyway, her head was in the right place. She was not covetous and insatiable. But her heart was restless. The chauvinistic dictate of culture made her believe that unless a husband filled her life, she was just an empty jar. I’m sorry, sisters and brothers. I need to be honest w/ you. When I prayed over this beautiful story this year, I couldn’t help contrasting the woman to our thieving politicians. I know. This sounds like a curve ball. But unlike the woman at the well, the thirst in our “representa-thieves” seems unquenchable. Unlike the woman, they’re not victims. They’re just deep-down greedy and shameless about being greedy. Their wells are already brimming over! But because they’re morally bankrupt, they want more. And they will get at that more regardless if it takes away from people who have next to nothing in life, whose jars are never full. The heart of the woman at the well felt empty. I can’t say the same thing for thieving politicians. Because they’re heartless. Jesus’ kindest words set the woman free and rejoicing. She told everyone, “Come see the man who told me everything that I have done. Could he be the Christ?” To me, that sounds like, “Come and see the Savior who told me that I am complete in God’s eyes. I am enough as I am.” Jesus made her realize she didn’t need yet another husband to complete her. Funny that Jesus asked for a drink but it was the woman who ended up quenched and refreshed and sparkling! She was enough in the Father’s eyes. Being enough is already grace. Enough is already a blessing. Sisters and brothers, our hearts are always restless. I’m afraid they’ll remain that way until, well, until God fills us w/ glory when our time comes. Meanwhile, it is very human that our hearts desire for more in this life: more comfort, more healing, more harmony and warmth and peace. But sometimes, greed and shamelessness poison our well. Then, we hallucinate that our well is almost empty, even when it’s still darn full. So, we want more: more self-gratification, more excitement, more novelty, more power and control, more likes, follows, subscribes, and all for the self. All for the ego. “I don’t care how I get at that more, or whom I steal it from. If I can’t have more, life is empty.” So: must… have… more. I mean, the sheer insanity of it all, sisters and brothers. We often think of the season of Lent as a time of subtraction of our extras, a time of reduction of our excesses, don’t we? Maybe, Lent isn’t just about giving something up, but also waking up; like that splash of cold water on our faces, God making us realize that enough is already a blessing. In fact, we have more than enough. But when we share our “enough” w/ people who barely have any, then, we feel even fuller; overflowing w/ life-giving water, overflowing w/ Christ! Really, sisters and brothers, even before we toss the bucket into the well, God has already filled us to the brim, and many times over. So, in a world that shouts that it is never enough, never enough, may we rest in Jesus who assures us and says, enough is already a blessing. Enough is already grace. Finally, did you ever read that meme that says, “If you have food in your fridge, clothes on your back, a roof above you, a bed to sleep in, you are richer than 75% of the world.” I found out, 75% is exaggerated. More accurately put: if

“Yes, I will”

Homily by Fr. Arnel Aquino, SJ, at the Cenacle Retreat House on the 26th Sunday in Ordinary Time. The Gospel is from Matthew 21: 28-32. On my first week as a newly ordained priest, a man stopped by Sacred Heart School in Cebu where I was assigned, and asked if he could confess. So, I sat with this very earnest, very gentle man and listened. “Father,” he started, “there’s one thing in the past 12 years I’ve long wanted to do: to receive the body of Christ again. I’ve been separated for 12 years, and I know there’s a rule against people like me, so I’ve kept myself away from communion since. I go to mass every day though.” His wife had left him for another man after just four years of marriage. He himself had met another woman since, with whom he was now living and had a child. They all went to church every Sunday. But their daughter was the only one who would line up for communion because mom and dad took it upon themselves to, well, keep away, according to the rule…even if they’d been wanting to share of the Body of Christ, truly, deeply, longingly all these years. This man had always believed without a shred of a doubt, that Christ’s body was his source of inspiration and healing and strength all his life. If you were there to hear him talk, sisters and brothers, you would realize he would not have come to confession if he were not sincere. Because he was. It was unmistakable. He did get around to confessing his sins. But it was more a confession of a long-standing wish, the granting of which he well knew he didn’t deserve; at least according to the rule, because he was a separated man. I gave the gentleman absolution. I also gave him the Body of Christ after that. I thought I had already understood his hunger for the Eucharist, until he broke down in big, loud, cathartic, heaving sobs upon receiving Christ’s body. I had no idea. He missed the Lord more than I could fathom. What greater faith could I ask to be shown, seeing someone long for the Lord so powerfully like that? So, his deep faith made me question my faith: When was the last time I longed for God like this? Never. The one verse that played over and over in my head all that day long was that there would be more rejoicing in heaven over one repentant sinner than over 99 righteous who think they have no need of repentance. Pope Francis’ message in Amoris Laetitia is very clear, but only if priests care to read it carefully, receptively, and intelligently. I hope I did. Because after I read it, the most crucial message I heard in my crazy Jesuit head was twofold. “Arnel,” Pope Francis seemed to say, “Be very careful to not lump together in one basket all the divorced and the separated and the cohabiting, and think of all of them as self-driven enemies of God and of the church.” And you know, in my work as a priest and confessor, that is so true. I have met divorced, separated, and cohabiting people who have sincerely set aright their ways, even if they can no longer change their past wrongs. Should I keep using the past wrong as the sole criterion to doubt their present goodness? If we priests do that, then we are no better than the Pharisees, Jesus’ pet peeves. They regarded as impure and disgusting to God anyone and everyone who wasn’t pure like they were, pure in their sense of the word, according to their standards, and to their construal of the law. Secondly, the Pope seemed to say, “Count how many times I wrote the word ‘discern’ and ‘discernment’ in that document: that priests must carefully ‘discern each situation,’ that ‘special discernment is indispensable for the care of the divorced, separated, abandoned;’ that these situations require ‘careful discernment and respectful accompaniment.’” 44 times. In other words, nowhere did the Pope imply or even order that all priests must all the time give communion to all the divorced, separated, and cohabiting, regardless of the circumstances. No. We are to carefully listen to people, accompany them, discern with them—in the spirit of compassion and mercy. Because not all the divorced, separated, and cohabiting are the monsters that many churchmen far too easily judge them to be. But I have met a few who really reject the faith and even mock God and the church. So, yes, there are separated, divorced people like that who couldn’t care less about God or church or decency, because they want to have their cake and eat it, too. Yet, there are others who did say “no” to God at some point in their lives, but they’ve since gone back to the vineyard, to work with the Father—like the first son in today’s gospel. But how will priests know, if we antemanothrow all of them into one basket, and then keep sterile distance from them? On the other hand, for all we know, some people we do give communion to, they may well be legitimately wedded and living together, but have become cruel or apathetic to each other, in a marriage that is lawful, but loveless. Wouldn’t that be the second son in today’s parable—who said “yes, I will,” or as marriage would go, “yes, I do,”—but did nothing more? “’Which of the two did his father’s will?’ Jesus asked them. They answered, ‘The first.’ ‘Amen, I say to you, tax collectors & prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God before you.’” Then we protest this as in the first reading, “The Lord’s way is not fair!” “Listen, Israel,” the Lord says. “Is it my way that is unfair, or yours?” I end with a quote in Amoris Laetitia. The Pope says, “I sincerely believe that Jesus wants a Church that’s attentive to the goodness which