ST. ANNE'S CHURCH ANNOUNCEMENTS

• Christian Meditation, every Tuesday at 7:00 PM at the church.
• Bible Study (English), every Thursday (except public holiday) at 7:00 PM at Parish Hall
• Taize Prayer will be held on April 24, at 20:00

First Synodality Activity Session

This Sunday, April 19th the 2nd Synodality Activity Session will take place in the Parish Hall from 12:30-14:30. This Sunday the Synodality Activity Session is for the Lector (Reader) group and extraordinary ministers of Holy Communion. We look forward to" journeying together" moving beyond mere consultation to deep, prayerful listening to each other and co-responsible discernment led by the Holy Spirit. Come Holy Spirit Come!

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

During the Easter season, we, in a very specific way, continue celebrating the mystery of the Lord's resurrection. Last Sunday, we read John 20:19-31, where Jesus met Thomas and showed him his wounds. The Gospel passage culminates in Thomas' strong faith in Jesus when he said to Jesus, "My Lord and my God" (John 20:28). Today, we read a different story about Jesus' appearance to his disciples.

The story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13–35) is not just a resurrection narrative; it is a model of the Eucharist. The account naturally divides into two major parts: the conversation on the road and the breaking of bread at the table.

These two parts directly mirror the two main sections of the Mass: the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist.

In the first part, Jesus walks alongside two discouraged disciples leaving Jerusalem. He listens to their confusion and sorrow over his crucifixion. Then, beginning with Moses and all the prophets, Jesus explains everything written about Himself in the Scriptures.

This is the Liturgy of the Word in miniature: the Word of God is proclaimed, interpreted, and applied to the present situation. Their hearts burn within them as Jesus speaks, showing that authentic scriptural teaching kindles faith and hope.

The purpose of the Liturgy of the Word is not simply the transmission of information but transformation — hearts set on fire for Christ.

The second part takes place at supper. As Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and offers it to them, their eyes are opened, and they recognize Him. Then He vanishes.

This moment is the Liturgy of the Eucharist. The action of taking bread, blessing, breaking, and giving is similar to the action Jesus performed at the Last Supper. Here, the Word made flesh, who spoke through Scripture, now gives Himself as spiritual food. Recognition happens not through teaching alone but through the sacramental act. The disciples do not simply understand Jesus; they receive Him.

Crucially, the two parts are not separate. The proclamation of the Word is fulfilled in the breaking of the bread. The same Jesus who interprets the Scriptures is the One given in the Eucharist.

The table of the Word leads directly to the table of the Bread. Without the Word, the Eucharist risks becoming an empty ritual; without the Eucharist, the Word remains unfinished teaching. Together, they form one single act of celebration.

For the Third Sunday of Easter, this Gospel invites every Christian to see the Mass as the Emmaus encounter. We come discouraged, confused, or distracted. We listen to Scripture, and our hearts burn within us. Then we go to the altar, where Christ breaks the bread, and our eyes are opened.

The journey from the road to the table is the journey of every Eucharist. The face of the Eucharistic celebration is always Christ: teaching on the road, giving Himself in the bread.

We leave, like the disciples, with burning hearts to share what we have seen and heard. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

Today's reading, especially the second and the gospel, speaks about seeing and believing. The relationship between seeing and believing is central to Christian faith, yet Scripture consistently inverts the world's assumption that "seeing is believing." The difference between the two is between empirical proof and trusting relationships.

The Scriptural Order: Faith Without Sight

1 Peter 1:8 directly addresses the Christians who have never seen Christ physically: "Although you have never seen Him, you love Him, and without seeing, you now believe in Him." The Greek text uses perfect participles—"not having seen" and "not seeing now"—emphasizing a continuing condition of sensory absence that does not hinder genuine faith. Peter acknowledges that these believers experience "inexpressible and glorious joy" precisely because their faith works without visual confirmation.

In John 20:29, Jesus reinforces it: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe." Thomas demanded physical proof—to see and touch the wounds—and Jesus granted it but pronounced a greater blessing on those who believe without such evidence. This suggests that faith based solely on sight is actually weaker, not stronger.

Does Faith Require Seeing?

Faith, by definition, concerns the unseen. Hebrews 11:1 declares that faith is, "the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." The person who saw Jesus physically in the Gospels could still walk away sad, like the rich young ruler. Physical sight guarantees nothing. Conversely, millions who never witnessed the resurrection have loved Christ passionately.

Does Seeing Guarantee Belief?

The Pharisees saw Jesus' miracles firsthand yet rejected Him. Judas witnessed everything and still betrayed Him. Seeing provides evidence, but belief requires a volitional response of trust that no amount of physical proof can compel.

The Church Fathers Teach

For the Church Fathers, seeing and believing are not opposites but different modes of knowing—one earthly and temporary, the other spiritual and eternal.

Saint John Chrysostom explains that Thomas was not rebuked for wanting evidence but for delaying belief until he saw. Chrysostom notes that Christ allowed the touch not to satisfy doubt but to heal unbelief, teaching that future believers would be more blessed because their faith relies on testimony, not senses.

Saint Augustine deepens it: the bodily eye sees flesh; the heart's eye sees truth. He writes that Thomas "saw and touched the man but confessed to God, the One he did not see nor touch." Physical sight saw wounds; faith saw divinity. Thus, seeing does not guarantee belief, nor does the absence of sight prevent it.

Conclusion

Seeing and believing operate in different realms. Sight belongs to the body; faith belongs to the heart. One does not produce the other necessarily. True faith does not require sight beforehand, and sight does not guarantee belief afterward. The blessed ones are those who, like the first Christian generations, trust the unseen Christ based on trustworthy testimony. And by believing, they truly see.

We are also blessed because we believe, although we live two thousand years after Jesus appeared to His disciples and do not see Jesus. (*)

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

On Easter, we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. This is the center and foundation of Christian life. No resurrection, no Christian life. What does resurrection mean? Is it similar to "Back to Life" or "Revival"? Which one is more important for us? Do we need to understand the difference between the two?

The difference between a resurrection (what happened to Jesus) and a revival (what happened to Lazarus and the widow's son at Naim) is not merely a matter of vocabulary—it is the very heart of Christian hope.

Revival: Return to Mortal Life

When Jesus raised Lazarus (John 11) and the young man of Naim (Luke 7), He restored them to their former, earthly existence. They returned with the same frail, elderly bodies, still vulnerable to illness, exhaustion, and death. Lazarus would perish once more. These were indications of Jesus' power over death and marvels of divine compassion and might, but they were just short-term gains rather than lasting triumphs. Then, what is the resurrection?

Resurrection: Salvation to Immortal Life

The resurrection of Jesus was essentially different. He did not return to his previous life. He emerged with a glorified, immortal body that could never die again—a body that could pass through locked doors yet be touched, that could eat yet transcend natural limits. Christ's resurrection was a once-for-all historical event that conquered death itself, not just a single instance of it. As Paul writes, "Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him" (Romans 6:9).

Why the Resurrection Is More Important for Christians

1. It validates Christ's identity—The resurrection proves Jesus is the Son of God (Romans 1:4). Revivals show a prophet's power; the resurrection shows the Lord of life.
2. It secures our justification—Paul insists that if Christ has not been raised, our faith is futile, and we are still in our sins (1 Corinthians 15:17). The revivals of Lazarus and others did not atone for sin.
3. It is the pattern for our future—Christians do not hope merely to be revived back to this aging world. We hope to share in Jesus' resurrection: a new, imperishable body in a new creation (1 Corinthians 15:42–44). Lazarus' raising foreshadows it, but Christ's resurrection guarantees it.

Spiritual Message

Revivals say, "Death is not final for this person—yet." The resurrection says, "Death itself is finished for all who are in Christ." On Easter, we celebrate not just a miracle but a metamorphosis. Because Jesus rose, death becomes a doorway, not a wall.

The Christian faith does not promise a second round of this tired life; it promises a new, eternal life in which "death shall be no more" (Revelation 21:4). That is why the resurrection is the cornerstone—without it, there is no Christianity, only a memory of marvels. With it, there is hope that transcends every grave.

Therefore, on Easter we celebrate resurrection and not just revival. When we die together with Jesus, we will live eternally together with Him. This is a real and strong hope that inspires and motivates our lives. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

On Palm Sunday, the Church proclaims the complete narrative of the Passion of Jesus Christ. The Church also chooses and sings Psalm 22 as the responsorial psalm. People who are aware of that selection may raise some questions. What is the catechetical purpose of including this psalm? How does the structure of Psalm 22 (a lament that transforms into thanksgiving) mirror the shape of the Passion narrative?

Beneath the waving of palms and the echo of "Hosanna," the Church, in her ancient wisdom, places upon our lips a psalm that sounds the depths of desolation. Psalm 22 is not merely a companion text to the Passion; it is the unveiling of a sacred mystery.

Its selection for the liturgy of Palm Sunday is a profound catechetical act, revealing that the King who enters Jerusalem amid acclaim is the same Victim who will cry out from the wood of the Cross.

The liturgy, in its perfect wisdom, connects the triumph of the procession to the silence of Gethsemane, teaching us that glory, in the divine economy, is born not of worldly power but of radical self-emptying.

This psalm serves as the very interior prayer of the Incarnate Word. The psalm gives voice to the ineffable: the moment when the Son, bearing the full weight of human sin, experiences the felt absence of the Father. In proclaiming, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" the liturgy reveals that Christ did not suffer in stoic silence but sanctified human anguish by clothing it in the sacred language of Israel's prayer. What begins as a raw lament—a cry of utter abandonment—turns into a radiant doxology of trust.

This movement from the agony of the cross to the hope of resurrection is the spiritual foundation of Holy Week. The psalm's graphic details—pierced hands and feet, the casting of lots—become prophetic icons, transforming the Roman instrument of torture into the Throne of Grace, from which Christ conquers sin and death.

For the faithful, this psalm is a school of authentic spirituality. It grants us holy permission to bring our own experiences of betrayal, physical suffering, and spiritual darkness into the sanctuary of prayer. Authentic discipleship does not demand that we deny the reality of suffering; rather, it invites us to follow the psalm's curve: to voice our anguish with unflinching honesty, yet to anchor that anguish in a memory of ancestral faithfulness and a trust in divine providence. We are reminded that, when together with Christ's Passion, our personal struggles are never just personal sorrows. They are integrated into the common narrative of redemption.

Psalm 22 reminds us that the way to glory is prepared with sacrifice as we hold palms that symbolize the cross. The assurance that future generations will testify that God's justice, in its concluding words, reassures us that hope, created out of difficulties, always results in witness. It teaches that faith may open doors to hope even in the darkest of situations, turning the dark valley into a sanctuary of divine encounter. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

Human life is a series of transitions, from the prenatal stage to late adulthood, each marking a distinct phase of growth and development. These earthly transitions, however, all seem to culminate in one final event: death. From a purely human perspective, death appears to be the definitive end of our journey. But is it truly the conclusion of all life transitions, or merely another passage?

The readings for this Lenten season offer a resounding and hopeful answer. In Ezekiel 37:12-14, God promises His people, "I will open your graves and have you rise from them." In its original context, God told them of the exile of Israel in a metaphor for their national restoration. However, the verse became foundational for the Jewish belief in bodily resurrection. It shows God's power to restore what is dead. This prophetic vision is not merely about a physical return to life in this world but also a profound declaration of God's power over death itself.

Similarly, St. Paul, in his letter to the Romans (8:8-11), assures us that the same Spirit who raised Jesus Christ from the dead will also give life to our mortal bodies. Paul means the same Holy Spirit who physically raised Jesus from the dead will one day resurrect believers. This promise guarantees our future bodily resurrection, transforming our current mortal, dying bodies into immortal, glorified bodies just as Christ was raised, because we have the Spirit living in us now. This is not a vague hope but a concrete promise of transformation.

"I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" (John 11:25)

The Gospel of John provides the ultimate illustration through the raising of Lazarus. In this powerful sign, Jesus demonstrates His authority over death, declaring, "I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live" (John 11:25). Jesus reminds us of the significant meaning of believing in Him, the resurrection, and life.

These scripture passages converge on a single, transformative truth: death is not an end but a transition. It is the final and most significant passage from our mortal, temporal existence to a spiritual and eternal one.

This transition is not automatic; it is made possible through faith in Jesus Christ. Our mortal bodies, subject to decay and time, will be exchanged for spiritual bodies, imperishable and eternal. It is the core of the Christian hope.

During Lent, as we reflect on our mortality and the fleeting nature of earthly life, we are invited to prepare for this ultimate transition. It is a season to deepen our faith in Christ, the one who conquered death.

We are called to live not in fear of life's final stage, but in confident hope of the resurrection. The transition from this life to the next is not a graduation into nothingness but a passage into the very presence of God, where our life, hidden with Christ in God, will be revealed in its fullness.

Thus, our life's journey is not a circle that ends in death but a path that, through Christ, leads to eternal life. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

Last Sunday, we read about Jesus giving living water to a Samaritan woman. He revealed Himself as the water that satisfies our spiritual thirst. Today's readings speak about light and the way people see. The Gospel tells us that Jesus heals a blind man. How can we understand the readings and their relevant meanings?

The readings for today contrast spiritual blindness against physical sight in a powerful way. God sent Samuel to appoint a new king. When Jesse presents his sons, Samuel initially gets impressed by Eliab's impressive appearance. But God does not choose him. The important lesson is this: "Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart." The youngest, David, whom even his father overlooked, is the one chosen. According to this scripture, spiritual sight requires looking past outward manifestations to the true condition of the heart.

The Gospel of John presents the example of the person who was born blind to demonstrate this point. Jesus heals him physically, but the greater miracle is spiritual. Jesus is first perceived by the cured man as a prophet, then as Lord, and finally as God. In the meantime, the Pharisees suffer from severe spiritual blindness despite being physically able to see. They firmly reject the facts, reject Jesus, and drive out the man who has been cured. More than just ignorance, their crimes include envy, disbelief, and deliberate rejection. They are condemned while claiming that they are able to see.

Paul specifically addresses the matter in his letter to the Ephesians. Because light promotes kindness, justice, and truth, he exhorts Christians to "live as children of light." The Pharisees kept staying in the dark due to their spiritual blindness, which prevented them from seeing the Light of the World in front of them. Paul urges everyone who remains spiritually blind and prefers darkness to the illuminating light of Christ to wake up.

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"If you were blind, you would have no sin; but now you are saying, 'We see,' so your sin remains." (John 9:41)

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These passages offer an in-depth examination of conscience for modern Christian life. We have to ask ourselves, "Where do we see only appearances?" Instead of looking for the heart, do we make decisions based on popularity, money, or status? Like the Pharisees, are we so sure of our righteousness that we fail to see God at work in unexpected ways? As true disciples, we must be humble enough to admit our blindness and allow Christ to give us sight.

The implications for politics are also urgent. Numerous spiritual blindnesses afflict our planet. Countries overlook the cries of the vulnerable and make decisions based on appearances and power. Ideologies become rigid systems that, like the Pharisees, reject every fact that contradicts their viewpoint. Leaders who prioritize their own interests over justice and fail to acknowledge the human dignity of immigrants, the impoverished, or political rivals exhibit blindness. International relations are poisoned by envy and unbelief, which lead to disputes that no diplomacy can settle since the heart remains hardened.

However, there is hope in the readings. The blind man's encounter with Christ restored his sight. The cure for our spiritually blind world remains the same: a modest recognition of blindness, a readiness to meet the Light, and the courage to live as children of Light in a darkness that desires to be seen. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

We continue our Lenten pilgrimage. We have walked for nineteen days. On the journey, we have met Adam and Abraham. Adam reminds us of our choice, and Abraham gives us an example of listening to and following God. Today we meet Moses, who has to deal with the people of Israel in the desert. They are thirsty. The story reminds us of our need for water. What do today's readings tell us?

The human soul, much like the body, is marked by a deep and persistent thirst. The readings for the Third Sunday of Lent vividly portray this longing and reveal God's ultimate provision for it in Jesus Christ.

In Exodus 17:3–7, the Israelites argue with Moses, saying, "Give us water to drink." Their physical thirst covers a deeper spiritual crisis—a testing of God's presence. They ask, "Is the Lord among us or not?"

This scene at Massah and Meribah establishes a fundamental truth: humanity is desperate for sustenance it cannot provide for itself, and it longs for the assurance of God's life-giving presence.

This Old Testament thirst finds its answer in the Gospel. In John 4:5-42, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at Jacob's well. He offers her "living water" that will turn into "a spring of water welling up to eternal life." Jesus shifts the conversation's subject from physical water to a profound spiritual reality.

Jesus, the new Moses, is more than just a striking rock; he is the source of water. He satisfies the woman's deepest longing for truth, love, and acceptance. He quenches the spiritual thirst that no earthly well can satisfy by revealing her life and offering Himself with the Holy Spirit.

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"Sir, give me this water so that I may not be thirsty." (John 4:15)

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How is this living water received? Romans 5:1-2, 5-8 explains that it flows through the sacrifice of Christ. "Since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in hope of the glory of God." The water of life is the very love of God, made possible not by our merit, but by Christ's selfless act. Why? Because "while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

During the Lenten season, this message is truly relevant. We acknowledge our thirst during Lent: our addictions, our restless striving, and our search for meaning. Like the Samaritan woman, it challenges us to let go of our jars and acknowledge that the world's resources are insufficient.

We remove the barriers that stand in the way of our access to the true spring through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Lent leads us to the foot of the Cross, the ultimate rock struck for our salvation. From there, the living stream of love and forgiveness flows.

In addition to drinking a lot of this water ourselves as we approach Easter, we are also asked, like the woman at the well, to spread the word about the One who truly satisfies. (*)

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

There is a common theme among this Sunday's scripture readings (Genesis 12:1-4a, 2 Timothy 1:8b-10, and Matthew 17:1-9): God reveals Himself and His plan to those who are willing to listen and trust. From faith to revelation to mission, they become a roadmap for the Lenten journey. How do the readings guide our journey?

The Abraham Story: Faith Begins the Journey

In Genesis, God calls an elderly man to leave everything familiar. "Go from your country... to the land that I will show you." Abraham does not know where he is going; he only knows the One is calling him. His immediate obedience (verse 4a) illustrates the birth of faith. Abraham acts as an example for the first step for Christians during Lent: having enough faith in God to give up our security. Our own "going forth" throughout Lent is a journey of conversion where we give up our sins to be able to follow God into the future.

The Transfiguration: A Glimpse of the Destination

In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain. Suddenly, His appearance transforms, and His divine glory shines through. Moses and Elijah discuss His "exodus" (death) in Jerusalem. Then the Father speaks: "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased; listen to him."

This event connects directly to Abraham. Just as God called Abraham to an unknown land, the disciples are being prepared for an unknown future—the Cross. The Transfiguration gives them a preview of the Resurrection so they can survive the suffering ahead. During Lent, we need these "mountaintop" moments—prayer, scripture, and the Eucharist—to remind us that suffering is not the end. We are called to listen to Jesus, especially when His words lead us toward sacrifice.

Paul's Exhortation: The Reason We Do Not Fear

Paul's letter to Timothy provides the theological foundation for both stories. He writes that God "saved us and called us to a holy life, not according to our works but according to His own purpose." This grace was given to us "before time began" and is now revealed through the appearance of Christ, who "destroyed death and brought life to light."

Paul urges Timothy not to be ashamed of witnessing to Christ. Why? The same God who called Abraham and revealed Jesus on the mountain now empowers us. The call is not based on our merit but on God's eternal plan.

How do they fit together? First, Genesis shows the human response: trust and obedience. Moreover, Matthew shows the divine revelation: Jesus is the One we must follow. Finally, Timothy shows the result: a life of fearless witness.

Relevance for Lent

Lent is a season of listening. We are asked, like Abraham, to leave behind the 'familiar land' of sin. We are invited, like the disciples, to behold Christ's glory in prayer so we can endure our small "Good Fridays." And we are reminded, through Paul, that our salvation is a gift, not an achievement.

The takeaway is simple: Listen to Jesus. He is the beloved Son who leads us through the Cross to the resurrection. When we trust Him as Abraham trusted God, we gain the courage to witness without shame. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

Today's gospel is the continuation of the last two Sundays. It is about the Kingdom of Heaven, which calls us to actively respond to it. We are not to be indifferent in front of it. Indifference is the purposeful and thoughtless decision to separate our God-given will from the ethical demands of justice and love; it is not mere neutrality.

It is the refusal to see the clear path God sets before us, treating the critical distinction between good and evil as if it were irrelevant. In Christian life, this apathy of the soul is particularly dangerous because it quietly surrenders our freedom to the currents of convenience, selfishness, and sin.

"Before man are life and death, good and evil, whichever he chooses shall be given him." (Sirach 15:17)

The scriptures starkly reject this passivity. Sirach 15:15-20 presents life as a fundamental choice placed before us: "If you choose, you can keep the command-ments… Before you are life and death; whichever you choose will be given to you."

Indifference foolishly tries to stand in the middle, ignoring that the refusal to choose for life is, in effect, a choice for death. Instead of the obedience that leads to prosperity, it claims that our freedom is for self-serving autonomy.

Jesus strongly emphasizes this challenge for active, purposeful discipleship in Matthew 5:17–37, eradicating any haven of complacency. He fulfils the Law by internalizing its demands to the extent of His heart's desire, and not by abolishing it.

It is not enough to not murder (a passive avoidance); we must actively pursue reconciliation (5:21-24). Not to commit adultery (a passive restraint) is not enough; we must actively guard our hearts from lust (5:27-30). Even in speech, a simple "yes" or "no" must be actively truthful, leaving no room for the indifferent evasion of oaths (5:33-37).

"Let your 'Yes' mean 'Yes,' and your 'No' mean 'No.' Anything more is from the evil one." (Matthew 5:37)

Jesus shows that true righteousness is proactive, engaging our whole person—heart, mind, and will—in a positive pursuit of God's kingdom.

The danger of indifference for the Christian is threefold. First, it corrupts our freedom.

We received freedom not for license but for love. Indifference allows this sacred faculty to atrophy, making us subservient to the path of least resistance. A church indifferent to anger, lust, deceit, or reconciliation within its ranks becomes a lukewarm body, indistinguishable from the world in its passive acceptance of broken relationships and injustice.

By implementing the Lord's advice to make wise decisions, we can avoid this sin. We are required to:

1. Acknowledge the binary:

Accept that before us are life and death, blessing and curse (Deuteronomy 30:19). Spiritual neutrality is an illusion.

2. Internalize the demand:

Move beyond a checklist of forbidden actions. Regularly examine our hearts—our anger, our contempt, our hidden lusts, our evasions—and actively cultivate their opposites: peace, respect, purity, and truthfulness.

3. Embrace proactive righteousness:

Translate avoidance into action. Don't just avoid enmity; seek reconciliation. Don't just avoid false oaths; be so truthful that your word alone is your bond. See every command as a call to pursue a positive good.

Our free will is the faculty to take life. Indifference is a slow form of "suicide." God offers fire and water before us; we cannot pretend they are the same. We must reach out, choose, and live. Have we consciously chosen life and rejected death? (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

When I was at the Carmelite Novitiate, my novice master introduced me to Carmelite spirituality. At the beginning, Carmelites gathered together on Mount Carmel to follow the example of the Prophet Elijah. As children of the prophet, all Carmelites are called to live in the midst of the people. Despite living in a hermitage, they offered guidance and spiritual encouragement to those who sought it. When they returned to Europe in the early 14th century, they had to become more involved in the Church. The majority of Carmelite men have served others while living as Christians up until the present day.

Living as a Christian in society is not about retreating but about engaging, described by Jesus as being "salt and light." This means our faith should actively preserve goodness and illuminate truth within our everyday communities. To be "salt" is to live as a preserving influence, preventing moral decay through integrity, kindness, and justice.

"You are the salt of the earth." (Matthew 5: 13)

In daily life, this looks like the office worker who quietly refuses to participate in gossip, thereby preserving a culture of respect. It's the neighbor who consistently checks on the elderly person next door, injecting care into a sometimes indifferent world.

Salt also enhances flavor; Christians are called to make community life more "tasty" and humane—organizing a local cleanup or being the first to welcome a new family to the street.

Being "light" involves showing Christ's love and wisdom. Light leads the way and reveals what is hidden. It is about spreading a brighter light through action, not about showy critique. Integrity in business is demonstrated, for instance, by the owner who works with radical honesty in their contracts and pricing. A different set of values becomes apparent when a parent coaches a children's team and emphasizes encouragement over ruthless success. Light also provides direction; merely listening to a suffering coworker without passing judgment can ignite optimism in the midst of their uncertainty.

"You are the light of the world." (Matthew 5:14)

Our wisdom is practical, shaped by Christ, and not simply philosophical. One example of wisdom that ends cycles of animosity is the decision to forgive when revenge is expected. A wisdom that prioritizes sustainability over immediate benefit appears in the generational stewardship of resources, including time, money, and the environment. By asking, "How can I serve here?" rather than "What can I get here?" The knowledge puts people above productivity.

Most importantly, the identity of "salt and light" is experienced in the company of others. We are not to isolate ourselves in holy circles but to be fully present in neighborhoods, workplaces, and digital spaces. Our engagement is marked by genuine love, not superiority. We are coworkers who consistently meet deadlines, neighbors who offer a hand when needed, and responsible citizens who vote and volunteer. The goal is to allow our acts to reveal the source of our hope rather than to loudly proclaim our goodness. When we respond to hostility with calm conviction or to crisis with organized compassion, people naturally see the "light" and "taste" the difference.

Therefore, the Christian life and society are integrated as one. Faith forms our ethics, compassion directs our actions, and hope stabilizes our perspective. We are called to be tangible, daily demonstrations of an alternative way to live—one seasoned with grace and illuminated by love. We accomplish our role in integrating Christ's wisdom into our daily interactions, gently preserving, actively enlightening, and sincerely directing toward the transforming love at the heart of our mission. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

This Sunday, we read Matthew 5:1-12a (the Beatitudes). What do we learn? By linking the soul with God's kingdom through particular virtues and dispositions, the Beatitudes show a paradoxical path to true happiness (beatitude). They are not merely moral commands but descriptions of the Christ-like life and the soul's transformation. From fundamental internal characteristics to their active manifestation in the external world, this education develops.

The Path of Interior Transformation

The first four Beatitudes focus on the soul's fundamental attitude before God, forming the necessary foundation.

According to Matthew 5:3, "poor in spirit" is the "key to all the others." It indicates spiritual humility—recognizing one's total dependence on God and freedom from attachment to worldly status or goods. St. Augustine calls it the antithesis of pride and the beginning of wisdom, for it opens the soul to receive the Kingdom.

The phrase "They Who Mourn" (Matthew 5:4) refers to godly grief for one's own sin and the disorder of the world that keeps us far from God. The "Paraclete," or Comforter, which is the forgiveness and peace of the Holy Spirit, is the promised comfort.

The Meek (Matthew 5:5): Meekness is "power under control"—the willingness to submit one's will to God's—rather than weakness. Christ is the perfect example of this virtue. An inherited "earth" is the steadfastness of a soul resting in God.

Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness (Matthew 5:6) is a passionate and proactive yearning for God's righteousness and justice. St. Augustine says this hunger is satisfied by Christ Himself, who said, "My food is to do the will of my Father."

The Fruit of an Active Faith

The subsequent Beatitudes flow from this purified interior state, manifesting in action.

The Merciful (Matthew 5:7): Forgiveness and compassion for others are acts of love. We must extend God's mercy, for we have received it. This beatitude, which the Bible refers to as "chesed" (tender kindness), captures the essence of God.

The Pure in Heart (Matthew 5:8) is defined as "single-minded devotion" to God, a state of inner integrity when all motivations are directed toward Him. One can only begin to "see God"—to experience His presence and will—when they have this clarity that God has given them.

The Peacemakers (Matthew 5:9): True peacemakers are like Christ, the reconciler, by actively establishing shalom (wholeness) in relationships and society. According to St. Augustine, they are known as God's children because they imitate His work of reconciliation.

The Culmination: Union with Christ

The final Beatitude confirms that this path leads to identification with Christ, even in suffering.

Persecuted for Righteousness (Matthew 5:10): When one lives the preceding Beatitudes, opposition becomes a sign of fidelity. The promise of the Kingdom is reaffirmed, framing the entire sequence. As the saints teach, rejoicing in persecution is a sign that one's treasure and citizenship are entirely in heaven.

Insights from Catholic Mystical Theology

The saints provide a unified vision of the Beatitudes:

A Path to Happiness: They are Jesus' own prescription for the "blessed life"—a life of deep, lasting joy found in holiness.

• Imitating Christ: Each Beatitude describes an aspect of Jesus' own life and character; to live them is to become more like Him.
• Acts of Grace: St. Thomas Aquinas clarifies that the Beatitudes are not themselves virtues or gifts, but the acts or fruits that flow from the Holy Spirit's gifts working through us.

In conclusion, the Catholic mystical tradition essentially views the Beatitudes as a representation of the transformed soul. This soul evolves from active love (mercy and peace-making) to humble dependence (poverty of spirit), culminating in a profound union with God that includes participation in Christ's Crucifixion and Resurrection. (*) 

Father Albertus Herwanta, O. Carm

Last Sunday, we heard John the Baptist's profound declaration, identifying Jesus as "the Lamb of God" and "the Son of God" (John 1:29-34). These titles reveal Jesus' divine identity and his ultimate mission of sacrificial love.

Today, in Matthew 4:12-23, we see this same Jesus stepping onto the public stage, moving from Nazareth to Capernaum to launch his ministry. Here, He issues two simple, direct commands that form the bedrock of Christian existence: "Repent" and "Follow me." These are not merely a one-time initiation ritual but the essential, intertwined rhythms of a life transformed by the Kingdom he proclaims.

The first command is a call to radical reorientation: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." In our modern understanding, repentance often focuses solely on feeling sorry for specific wrong actions. But Jesus' call, rooted in the Greek word metanoia, goes much deeper. It means a complete change of mind—a fundamental shift in our entire perspective and worldview.

The arrival of God's Kingdom, His active reign and rule, demands that we turn away from our personal "kingdoms." These are the realms we build around self-reliance, ingrained bias, and the false pursuit of security, status, or pleasure. True repentance is the active dismantling of these faulty foundations. It is acknowledging that our self-directed paths lead to spiritual darkness and consciously choosing to realign our deepest loyalties, values, and thoughts with the reality of God's gracious and just rule. It is a change of mind that precedes a change of life.

This internal revolution cannot remain hidden. It immediately seeks expression through the second command: "Follow me." Jesus does not invite us to merely admire his teachings from a distance. He summons us to a personal, active, and moving allegiance. To follow is to get up and go—to walk the road he walks, toward the people he seeks.

The response of the first disciples is our model: they immediately left their nets, their livelihood, and their primary source of identity and security. They entered into the daily discipline of apprenticeship.

Following Jesus means learning His way of life: prioritizing compassion over rigid tradition, mercy over harsh judgment, and humble service over worldly power. It means joining His mission of healing, restoration, and hope, becoming, as He said, "fishers of people," drawn into His work of redeeming the world.

For our Christian life today, it creates a dynamic and lifelong pattern. Repentance is the continuous, honest work of holding our thoughts, hidden motivations, and cultural assumptions under the light of Christ's teaching and continually turning our hearts back to Him. Following is the practical outworking: weaving the threads of our daily routines, our relationships, our work, and our decisions into the larger fabric of His mission..

These two rhythms are inseparable. We cannot authentically follow Jesus while clinging to unrepentant areas of our hearts. Conversely, genuine repentance naturally propels us forward into obedient action. If our repentance does not lead to following, it is incomplete. If our following lacks repentant humility, it becomes self-righteous striving.

Therefore, the Christian life is both a perpetual homecoming and a purposeful journey. It is the daily turn from the darkness of self-rule (repentance) and the step into the light of Christ's presence and purpose (following). This is the new way of thinking and living that Jesus inaugurated—a life swept into the current of God's Kingdom, continuously shaped by the King Himself, and joyfully participating in the redemptive work He began and continues through His people. (*)