Prologue

“But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33) Jesus told these words to His disciples on the night before His crucifixion. For me, no parting words would have been more comfortable than these. How did Jesus overcome the world? Was it by force, violence, extrajudicial killings, or unnecessary wars? No! Those who subscribe to these may have thought otherwise, but where are they now? Jesus overcame the world through humility, meekness, accompaniment, dialogue, compassion, and mercy. These are contained in His Seven Last Words. Two millennia have passed and He continues to draw people to Himself. This Holy Week, our Blessed Lord draws us more intensely to Himself crucified. Let's humbly open our hearts, fall on our knees, and listen to His Seven Last Words. United with Him, we will also overcome the world.

Pietro S. Albano

Former Editor-in-Chief, Member

Editorial Board

www.anluwage.com

First Word

  "Forgive them, Father, they don't know what they are doing."

                                                     by Ayres Adrienne Canlas 
Truly, Jesus has a sacred heart for Him to say such words. I cannot help but ask, did Jesus ask God to forgive them because they truly do not know what they are doing? As I reflect, I cannot begin to comprehend the heart of Jesus when He called out to His Father, asking forgiveness on behalf of the people who crucified Him, who humiliated Him. Still, it is relevant to this day and age. Though, I must admit that it is even more difficult to reflect because my mind is full of rage. I keep on thinking about how we live in such great peril, children being trafficked and abused; school being bombed, innocent children and innocent people being killed. How many mothers and fathers have lost their children? How many children have lost their parents? We live in a world where waging war can still be legal and humans are being treated as collateral damage. We live in a time where one would expect that as humans, violence and destruction should not be the solution when the economy is collapsing. Surely, waging war is not the way to achieve peace. There must be something more. Is that being naive? Or is that having hope that humanity is way better than this? I have so many questions, why sacrifice the blood of the innocent? Why think of God as a transactional being? When He is the face of mercy and justice. I understand that we must begin within ourselves, within the community that we live in. When I ponder the way I live my life, the way I treat my family and friends, the way I interact with the people I encounter on a daily basis. And I realised how I was forgiven by God, how He always showed mercy when there were times that I can also be unkind and unforgiving. There were times when I also chose the wrong words and actions. Still, I was forgiven. Truly, forgiveness is a gift as much as a merciful act. God’s mercy is always greater than human sin, always beyond our full human understanding. I may have rage within me for the right reasons. Though, I refuse to let the rage consume me. I am full of hope and love. I have faith. I shall not despair as I fix my gaze on Jesus. I shall remember John 16:33 “But take heart! I have overcome the world”. Hence goodness shall prevail. Always. I shall strive to be courageous and kind. We must continue to protect our humanity amidst differences. We must continue to care for one another, even though it can be uncomfortable and inconvenient. We must act and strive for justice. Forgiveness is essential and so does accountability and justice. As having mercy and being forgiven is transformative it causes us to take action.

Prayer:

Father of Mercy, As Your Son hung upon the cross, He cried out: “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

In those words, He revealed a heart that loves beyond cruelty, a mercy that surpasses human understanding.

Lord, I confess the rage I feel at the injustices of our world— the children trafficked and abused, the innocent lives lost to war, the families torn apart by violence.

My heart aches, and I struggle to forgive.

Yet You remind me that forgiveness is not weakness, but strength born of love. Mercy does not erase justice, but transforms it into action that protects, heals, and restores.

Teach me, Lord, to begin within myself: to be kind in my words, to be patient with my family, to be compassionate toward strangers. Remind me that I, too, have been forgiven, and that Your mercy is greater than my sin.

Give me courage to hope when despair seems easier. Give me faith to believe that goodness shall prevail, for Christ has overcome the world.

Help me to protect humanity amidst division, to care for others even when it is inconvenient, to strive for justice without losing mercy.

May forgiveness and accountability walk hand in hand, so that mercy becomes not only a gift received, but a call to act with courage and love.

Ginger Nepomuceno is currently working in an Information Technology company. When time permits, she attends The Feast – Bellevue Alabang, PM session. She has been a Tuloy sa Don Bosco Volunteer since 2004.

Second Word

"I promise you that today you will be in Paradise with me."

by: Bro. Emerson C. Maala

One of the best and most beautiful things that we could hear from our best friends or a family member when we are struggling is a word of assurance. It gives us security and hope that something good can still happen despite the challenges we are facing—not out of forced optimism, but out of a love that knows us and remains with us. These are words that do not deny the pain, but rather offer a presence that consoles us and loves us. They may not give us the answer we want to hear, but they remind us that we are not alone in this journey full of challenges.

The Second Word of Jesus on the Cross gives us this kind of hope: “I promise you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” These are not just mere words, but in themselves an act of love.

Even before I entered the seminary, I knew that answering God’s call would not be easy. There are many trials that a seminarian faces—struggles with discipline, identity, relationships, and the constant challenge of being true to oneself before God.

Looking back, I realize that during my first years in formation, I was not completely honest about who I really was. I tried to present only the good side of myself. I would say the things that sounded right, the things that would leave a positive impression on my formators. In a way, I was trying to become the “ideal seminarian”—but not necessarily the real one.

But the truth has a way of revealing itself. There were aspects of my life that I tried to keep hidden, especially when it came to relationships. At one point, my spiritual director discovered that I was seeing someone—that there was flirtation involved. He also told me that the rector already knew about it. What I thought I had managed to conceal eventually came to light. I was reprimanded and told to stay away from it. And so, my openness and honesty in formation were questioned. I did not give them my trust. I was not open enough for them to truly help me in my formation.

After that, I went to the rector’s office to talk about it. I told him everything—about my struggles in relationships, my family upbringing, and other personal matters. It was the only time that I was able to talk about these things with someone. Regarding my personal issues, he just nodded and thanked me for my openness. After that, I thought my journey to priesthood was over.

I asked myself if I should still continue in formation. I had been dishonest—not only to the formation, but also to God. I was selfish in trusting only myself and not those who could help me, especially my formators. I wondered if I was just forcing myself to continue according to my own will, and not according to the will of God. But then, my formator told me something that I will never forget: There is always a second chance. With these words, I found God’s assurance.

With so many doubts, God revealed to me that nothing had changed in His relationship with me. He still sees me as one of His own, in need of love and compassion. Like the Good Thief to whom Jesus promised Paradise, I encountered Christ’s assurance in my own life. I cried, for I felt the love, mercy, and compassion of God. He gave me a second chance to continue my formation.

Like the Good Thief, we may feel unworthy. Like him, we may come to Jesus with nothing but our brokenness. But if we have the courage to turn to Him and say, “Lord, remember me,” we will hear His assurance: I love you. You are mine. And your life is not over. Because in Christ, there is always hope. In Christ, there is always mercy. And in Christ, there is always a second chance. Jesus’s words remind us that no matter how many times we have sinned, or how long it’s been since we prayed, God is always looking for us to forgive.

And so today, as we stand before the Cross, we are invited not to despair, but to trust. Because all the learning experiences from the past are the very path that led us back to God. They are part of our humiliations that remind us to remain humble, just like the thief who recognized his own failures. And now, whenever we face moments of crisis, let us look back and remember how God has held us and carried us closer to Him.

For the One who promised Paradise from the Cross is also the One who now tells us:

“Take heart. I have overcome the world.”

This is the meaning of the Second Word: even while enduring the suffering of the Cross, Jesus gives assurance—He gives us hope. Amen.

Prayer

God our loving Father, Thank you for always giving us assurance. Even when we sinned, you always seek us and forgive. May we always see the grace of your love for us. So that we can be an instrument of Your love to others. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Bro. Emerson C. Maala is born and raised in General Trias, Cavite.  He is  a fourth year Theology student a the Divine Word School of Theology in Tagaytay and on his ninth year of formation at the Tahanan ng Mabuting Pastol.  On his free time,  he enjoys listening to music, reading books, and watching movies.

 

Third Word

"He is your son… She is your mother." 

by: John Reigh B. Celario

Growing up in an extended family, with three mothers is such a gift. I have been loved in three different ways. I have been raised in three different ways. I have been nourished in three different ways. My mom, whom I call "Mommy" works abroad as a domestic helper. My aunt, whom I call "Nanay" stands as a caretaker and took care of me as her own child. Lastly, my cousin, whom I call "Mama", stands as my mother in public.

Mommy Ellen worked in Dubai long before I was born. She works as a saleslady, store attendant, and even a domestic helper to raise me and provide for my needs. I was a grown-up child, in my point of view, when I met her. I can recall that I was in my grade 1 when I was introduced to her in person. That is totally new for me as I haven’t seen her face, nor stare at her eyes for the rest of my life. We both adjusted as we were introduced, it is like a cub being brought to her mum, or a bird coming back to its nest. Totally new that we were given time to adjust. Having been entrusted to someone by your own mother has been a joy and pain. Joy that I was filled with love, and pain of longing. But being introduced “to your mother” leaves a deep joy, a fill in a gap that was there, now being filled with so much love and care.

Nanay Susan is the first-born in a dozen siblings. She stands as their second mother, having been entrusted to the family and being an extra hand in caring for her siblings. To her old age, of 60 plus years old, there I was being brought into her home to take care and raise as if her own. She has been my solid foundation of faith. I vividly recall the times she prayed the rosary and sang a beautiful “Hail Mary” every time she finished her prayers. That up to now has been my foundation of faith and believing in the care of Our Mother.

Mama Julie is my first cousin, daughter of Nanay Susan. She is the first born in the family, in our case, the first born of all of the cousins in our family clan. Our age gap is appropriately fit to have me as her own child, and her as my own mother. She supported me in all of our school work and activities. She has been with me in every enrollment and field trips. She has been with me in all of the parents’ meetings and making requests to allow me to take the exam with a promissory note. She has been my parent, she sums up the role of being a mother and father, and I owe her a lot. From my faith, in attending charismatic group “El Shaddai”, and even being a social butterfly in every group she’s with. She has also been my model of being an employee with a good communication skill as I accompany her on her “trippings” in selling houses and lots in the South. Mama has been my mother, filling the same gap brought about by my mom and my father.

They have different roles in my life in which I am nourished and did not ask for a father’s care. Their love has been my fortress of strength and my refuge in times of desolation. I have been entrusted to their care by my Father in heaven, having a void from my own father. But this void does not come from pain, but with happiness in my heart that I have been loved by many, nonetheless by my three mothers.

God allowed pain and suffering so that we can see the beauty of prayers, grace, and in thanksgiving. With my three ladies in my life, they have been my sweet embrace and assurance that God loves me more that I deserve.

Prayer

Lord, thank you for giving me a chance to be loved and cared for. Teach me to be more loving everyday, and believing in your word as I journey through this life, with much belief with your goodness and grace. Amen.

John Reigh B. Celario  is a broadcasting major graduate with units earned in Masters in Business Administration. He is currently the Events Officer for Arts and Cultural Affairs and has  been the host and director for various events under the Office of Student Affairs of Lyceum of the Philippines University Manila. An experienced host, for over a decade, hand-in-hand with managing events in the academe and social functions. His career in customer service, stage management and direction contributed to whom he is now. 

Fourth Word

        "My God, my God, why did you abandon me?"

                                                by Louise Marie Gonzales

There are moments in life when this cry does not feel poetic. It feels personal.

“My God, my God, why did You abandon me?”

Jesus spoke these words while hanging on the cross. Stripped. Wounded. Publicly shamed. In that moment, He did not speak like a distant God untouched by pain. He spoke like someone who knew what it was to feel alone.

For many years, I carried that same cry in my heart.

I married young. I was twenty-three and deeply in love. I left my family in Manila—my mother, my sister, and the large, loud, close-knit clan that had always been my safe place. I left a promising career. I followed my husband to Mindanao and began a new life there. I told myself that love meant sacrifice, and I was willing to give everything.

The first years were difficult. We struggled to have children. During those years, betrayal entered our marriage. I could have left then. We had no children yet. But when he asked for forgiveness, I chose to stay. I believed love could fix what was broken. I hoped things would change.

They did not.

When our first daughter was born, the loneliness deepened. I raised her almost alone. Sleepless nights. Diapers. Fevers. School activities. He was physically present at times, but emotionally absent. Words became weapons. Not bruises on skin—but wounds to the spirit. I began to shrink. To speak less. To doubt myself more.

Years passed. Another daughter was born. Leaving felt even more impossible. I told myself I had made my decision. I had to make it work. I managed the family business yet felt treated like an employee with no voice. I was accused, belittled, misunderstood. In public we looked like a family. In private, I felt invisible. There were days I would ask silently, “Lord, where are You?”

Slowly, I stopped praying. Not out of rebellion—but out of exhaustion. It was easier to assume God had abandoned me than to keep hoping He would intervene. I forgot how to talk to Him. I forgot how to listen. I carried my pain quietly and focused on surviving for my daughters. At my lowest, I battled depression. There were dark thoughts I am not proud of. But even then, something inside me refused to give up. If God had abandoned me, I still could not abandon my children. So I lived one day at a time. One step. Then another.

Looking back, I now see something I could not see then.

God had not left.

He was preserving me quietly.

He sent two faithful friends who encouraged me to seek help. I went to counseling. I was given medication. He sustained me through professionals, through science, through small mercies. At that time, I did not recognize it as grace. But it was.

Years later, after the height of the pandemic, I found myself returning to church. I cannot even explain what drew me back. I just went. And during Mass, I began to cry. Not dramatic tears—just quiet ones behind a face mask. It felt as though the words of Scripture were being spoken directly to me. The songs felt personal. In the silence of the liturgy, I sensed something I had not felt in years: God’s presence.

At night, I began to pray again. Slowly. Awkwardly. And in those prayers, peace would come. No answers. Not immediate solutions. Just peace. The God I thought had abandoned me had been there all along, waiting patiently for me to turn back. It was not He who had walked away. It was I who had stopped listening.

When Jesus cried, “My God, my God, why did You abandon me?” He was quoting Psalm 22. A psalm that begins in despair but ends in trust. In the darkness of the cross, there was still a relationship between the Son and the Father. The cry itself was a prayer.

I began to understand: feeling abandoned does not mean we are abandoned.

God also placed people in my life who spoke truth. A priest once told me gently that loving myself was not selfish. That enduring everything at the expense of my dignity was not holiness. That sometimes, saving your family means first saving yourself. His words were unexpected. But they felt like clarity.

With prayer came courage. With courage came planning. Quietly, I began preparing a way out for my daughters and myself. There was no dramatic confrontation. Just steady steps. Boxes sent ahead. Documents arranged. And one day, we left.

That day did not erase the past. It did not magically heal every wound. But it marked the beginning of freedom. Today, life is not perfect. Rebuilding never is. But I am at peace. I laugh again. I rediscovered the part of me that had been buried under years of fear. More importantly, I rediscovered God—not as a distant judge, but as a Father who never stopped holding me.

This Holy Week, as we hear the Fourth Word, we are reminded that even Jesus felt the weight of abandonment. He entered fully into human suffering. He knows what it is to feel forsaken. But His cry was not the final word.

Before His Passion, He said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Overcoming the world does not always look like dramatic victory. Sometimes it looks like surviving another day. Sometimes it looks like returning to Mass. Sometimes it looks like choosing dignity. Sometimes it looks like peace after years of turmoil.

If you feel abandoned today, know this: the feeling is real—but it is not the truth. God may be working quietly, preserving you in ways you do not yet see. The cross was not the end of Jesus’ story. And your darkest chapter is not the end of yours. He has overcome the world.

And because of Him, so can we.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,

In moments when we feel alone, remind us that You understand. When our hearts whisper, “Where are You?” Teach us to keep praying, even through tears. When we cannot see Your hand, Help us trust that You are still holding us. Give courage to those who need to take difficult steps. Give peace to those who are still waiting. Thank You for overcoming the world And for walking with us through ours. Amen.

                                                     

Louise Marie Gonzales is a writer and mother of two who shares reflections on faith, healing, and resilience. Through personal essays and spiritual writing, she hopes to offer comfort to those walking through difficult seasons. She is currently working on a memoir about survival, courage, and rediscovering God in the midst of suffering. Updates about her writing and future book release will be shared on her Facebook page. 

Fifth Word

 

“I am thirsty!”

by Jenni Bernardo-Fonseca

    

“I thirst.”

Water is a very powerful symbol to a number of major religions, faith traditions and belief systems like Daoism, Buddhism, Judaism, and Christianity. In Daoism, water is deemed as powerful in and of itself and its strength lies in its being supple, in its fluidity, its softness, its buoyancy and its gravity. Water as a powerful element is found in all living organisms, small and great. It is even in the air that we breathe. Because it is hydrogen and oxygen, it can seep into the deepest recesses of the earth to give life to all living organisms, and to all human and non-human beings alike.

In Christianity water is a symbol of both life and death. In the Old Testament we saw the essence of water as a symbol of life and death. Noah was called by YHWH to preserve life itself from destruction. Moses, he who was drawn from the water, was the one who led the Israelites out of slavery by crossing the Sea of Reeds. From the water, their persecutors drowned from the water.  And it was water too that tested the faith of Moses in Yhwh, it was the water of Meribah in the desert that determined his fate. Striking the stone twice out of anger, he defied the will of God and was punished by YHWH from seeing the promised land.

In the New Testament, water figured in the ministry of Jesus very strongly. He was baptized at the river Jordan before He began His public ministry. Jesus’s first miracle was the transformation of water into wine. And who can forget the Samaritan woman by the well of Jacob who gave Jesus water when the Lord got thirsty after going around the town. Such a gesture of Jesus defies cultural norms that prohibits any Jew to interact with any Samaritan.  In this gospel pericope we see Jesus telling us that the water that God provides is for everyone, that salvation is given to everyone, enemies or not, and that no matter what the race or culture, no matter what the historical past would remind us, we all deserve God’s salvation.

Jesus’s last word, “I thirst” is God’s way of making His disciples see with their eyes of faith the need to fully trust in God the Father. On the Cross, Jesus, the new Moses was making a declaration of faith to the will of God with utter abandonment. And unlike Moses who struck the stone twice in anger, in the desert of Meribah due to his fear of losing the trust of the Israelites, Jesus knew that He had fulfilled the will of the Father. Jesus became for all of us that stone in Meribah. He was “struck” by the Father so that the water that leads to eternal life can flow forth from his side. And now, we can draw water from Him anytime we thirst even if and especially if we are weak of faith like Moses and hardened of hearts like the Israelites of old because the Lord has already “overcome the world.” (Jn 16:33)

As an efficacious symbol in the sacrament of Baptism, it is a performative sign. It brings about the efficacy that it symbolizes, life and cleansing. In everyday use, water is a source of life, it adds life to all creatures. As a symbol of cleansing, it cleanses and purifies any impurities. That is why in the sacrament of Baptism it is an efficacious symbol of God’s salvation. In Baptism we receive the new life of Christ as being born again of water and the Spirit to become children of God. Water indeed is transformative.

“I thirst,” says the Lord. This is the same experience many children in countries being ravaged by wars nowadays and children in very poor countries in Asia. In this day and age of super technology, still many children suffer and die from malnutrition and diarrhea because of lack or absence of clean and potable water. Women need to fetch water from far flung and dangerous places to provide for their families. 

“I thirst” says the Lord. But water is controlled by mega AI economies that need billions of cubic meters of water to sustain all digital platforms. Water is being taken from human beings so that global technologies can perform according to their programs. At the expense of human beings especially in very poor countries and all life-forms, water is now also consumed by AIs. 

“I thirst,” says the Lord. He who gives the water of everlasting life thirsts for peoples’ trust in Him. We have wandered away from the God who can provide us everlasting life and joy that never ends in this life and in the next. We gave our full trust to the water that provides temporary relief. We have been striking the stone of Meribah too many times out of anger and laziness and selfishness. We are thirsty not because we are not drinking enough water. We are thirsty because we do not like the water that God provides. We are thirsty because we have not drunk from the “side of the Lord” who has already overcome all hunger and thirst in the Lord.

“I thirst,” says the Lord.

Prayer

Diyos ng aming buhay, Diyos na Buhay. Diyos na nagbibigay ng tubig na hindi nagmamaliw. Marami pong salamat sa Iyong tubig na ipinagkakaloob sa amin. Tubig ng buhay at tubig ng iyong pagmamahal.

Patawad po aming Diyos sa maraming pagkakataon na pinipili naming sumalok ng tubig sa balon ng kamatayan. Patawad po sa maraming pagkakataon na uminom kami ng tubig na puno ng lason ng kasakiman at kawalan ng kalinga sa kapwa.

Mamulat na po sana kami na Ikaw ang bukal ng tubig na nagbibigay buhay sa amin. Mamulat na po nawa kami na ang tubig ng buhay namin ay Ikaw lamang.

Hinihiling namin ito sa pangalan ni Hesus, aming Diyos magpakaylanman. Amen.

Si Jenni Bernardo-Fonseca ay isang Katekista ng Simbahan ni San Jose sa Gagalangin. 

Isang ina, anak, kapatid, kaibigan, guro. 

Sixth Word

                               "It's Finished!"

by: Sr. Jennifer R. Cuerdo

“It is finished!” is an expression which could arouse in us one or both of two sentiments – either joy – as in school graduations; or sorrow – as in deaths.

It is exclaimed with delight when one has achieved something positive – completed one’s studies, fulfilled a project, or realized a goal. Or it could also be accompanied by a sigh of relief and peace when one has been freed from something difficult or problematic – a fair judgment of a case, a solution to a problem, a cure from a disease, or the end of war and armed conflicts.

It could also be uttered with anguish and disappointment when one has experienced an end of something valuable – a friendship or any relationship because of betrayal, a dismissal from work, a missed opportunity, or even the loss of a loved one.

A semester before I finished my Licentiate studies in Rome, I had the courage to request to continue my Doctorate, no longer in Rome as my superiors earlier planned, but here in the Philippines instead. My mother has been frequently getting sick and my aunt (my mom’s unmarried older sister who helped to take care of us when we were younger) was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, so I felt that my presence and nearness to them was needed.

I no longer attended our graduation for my Licentiate degree, as graduations in the Universities in Rome are usually done at the beginning of the new academic year in October. My classmates and I celebrated together that June after our Lectio Coram, an oral defense required for graduating students. Though most of us would no longer be in Rome to receive our diploma, we were all jubilant for our achievement. We surpassed three-years of Canon Law! It is finished!

I flew home immediately in early July. I was still able to spend some time with my aunt. But despite her undergoing chemotherapy, her feeble body slowly gave up. Our family decided not to get together anymore for last year’s Christmas and this past New Year's celebrations as my aunt was in the hospital. Since we knew that she was already heading to the end of her days, we had prepared her spiritually with the sacrament of the anointing of the sick. A day before she died, thinking that it was already her time, she called all of us, with my cousins from her other siblings, and made her last will as regards her properties and last wishes for her funeral. After making sure that everything was arranged according to her liking, she jokingly said that maybe it was a false alarm since she has not died yet.

The following day, I arrived at the hospital with my aunt grasping for her breath. My cousin said that she reminded my aunt that it would be my birthday the next day. She looked at me and I saw the sadness in her eyes. She still didn’t want to leave, maybe because she didn’t want me to mourn on my birthday. I held her hand, spoke to her and said, “It’s okay. If you are ready to leave, you can leave now. You are already prepared; we will follow what you told us to do. You don’t have to worry about my birthday. I don’t want to prolong your suffering. Don’t worry about me.” We prayed the rosary while she was agonizing. And when her oxygen level dropped, she breathed her last. It is finished!

In these experiences of both happiness and grief, everything was clear for me. After my Licentiate in Rome, I would be pursuing my Doctorate degree in the University of Santo Tomas, which I am currently doing now. After my aunt died, we did exactly as she told us – one day/one night wake, cremation afterwards, brought her urn to my mom in Quezon for 40 days, then transferred her to their hometown in Marinduque for her burial there. I am happy and certain that she passed away ready to meet our Lord.

The words, “It is finished!” pronounced by our Lord Jesus Christ, could have brought about hesitations and doubts to those who heard them. “What was finished? The pain He was enduring, clearly! Maybe Jesus was relieved that all His suffering would soon end with His death. It could not possibly be a cry of accomplishment, because what success has He attained? His preaching, healing and miracles all went down the drain. And those people whom He has helped, even His so-called disciples, where are they? They all ran away! He has been left with nothing – a total loser!” These were probably what most of the eyewitnesses and bystanders thought during that time.

But what do those words really mean? Regardless of His seeming defeat – no assurance if there would still be a future for His followers, His teachings were apparently ineffective, His miracles were disbelieved, and His very person questioned – His “It is finished!” was an expression of triumph!

It was not yet obvious then, that Friday afternoon – for there was darkness all over, the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom, there was an earthquake – everything was vague and was in deafening silence until the whole day of Saturday. What would happen afterwards?

But that early Sunday morning illuminated the obscurity in His followers’ hearts – as clear as the noonday sun was the significance of His “It is finished!”. Those words meant that He has won over sin and death; that notwithstanding His frail Humanity, He did not give up and followed the will of God the Father in order to bring about our salvation; that what Jesus really meant with those words was MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Prayer:

Lord, when things get tough and uncertain – like the false image of victory of evil in the corruption cases in our country; the perennial disparaging words of one politician over another; the declining morality in our society; the continuous destruction of the family; the ongoing and intensifying war between nations; – help us to remember that it was under these same conditions when you declare Your “It is finished!” while hanging on the cross. It is an encouraging reminder for us that we should always take heart, for You have overcome the world. Lord, make us put our trust in You more. Amen!

Sr. Jennifer R. Cuerdo, OP is a religious sister of the Missionaries of St. Dominic and is currently the Assistant Provincial Secretary of the Immaculate Conception Province, Philippines. She also works as the Head of the Commission of the Culture of Care (Safeguarding) of the Philippine Province and the Head of the Social Media team of the entire Institute.

Seventh Word

    "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

  by Fr. Jesus M. Madrid, Jr.

One day in my previous parish where I was assigned, I talked to a boy in front of the parish office. I asked him, “Do you want to be a priest when you grow up?” He replied with certainty, “No, father!” Then I asked again, “What, then, do you want to become when you grow up?” He paused silently thinking about what he wants and then he answered, “Okay, father. I want to become a priest.” It seemed like he was forced to say that but still he said it that’s why I said to him, “Since you want to become a priest, when you grow up, this thing that I am wearing, I will give it to you.” Then he quickly replied, “Father, when I grow up, you’ll be dead by then.” I was surprised by that answer and just laughed. It was direct, honest, and simple. It was a statement of truth that was said without fear. And when I looked at it deeper, death is something we usually are afraid to talk about, yet in reality it is part of life. Death is something we cannot run away from and the only thing we can do is to prepare for it. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Jesus’ final words on the cross carry a deep meaning. Those words show us how Jesus faced death and those words teach us also how we are called to face death as well. The first important thing we can get from this is this: Jesus calls God his Father. It is easy to forget who we really are in moments of pain, of suffering, and of darkness. What do we usually do when we go through difficulties? We start to question God. We isolate ourselves then we feel alone and abandoned. But Jesus on the cross, in the most painful moment of his life, said, “Father!” This is a reminder that even in our darkest moments may we remember who we are. We are children of our heavenly Father. We belong to Him. That is a relationship that cannot be destroyed even by suffering or pain. To call God Father is not just to say something. It is a call of trust. It is a call that signifies, “I know I am not alone, God is with me. The second important thing in the final words of Jesus is the act of surrender. When he said, “into your hands I commend my spirit.” Jesus in that moment entrusts everything to the Father. He gives his all and he holds nothing back. He totally gives everything and unites his spirit with the Father. And I would like to note that his surrender is not a sign of weakness rather it is a sign of great strength. The surrender is not defeat but a free offering of himself. Why did I say that it is not a sign of weakness and defeat, because most of the time we think of the act of surrender as an act of weakness because we are not strong enough. Why is that? Because in our lives we like to be in control. We like to hold on to things. We do not want our plans to be disrupted. We want to be secure in many things. And there is nothing wrong with that but we have to know also when to let go of the things that keep us from holding on to the plan and dream of God for us. It is scary, true, but we still have to trust still even if we do not know the next things that will happen. Jesus showed us that true peace comes from trusting the Father, the One who holds everything.

Going back to the boy in front of the parish office that I spoke with, who did not hesitate to speak about death. I think, for him, it was something simple, something natural. But I just observed that as we grow older, we begin to fear it more. We begin to avoid it. We begin to hold on tighter to life, as if by holding on we can prevent it from ending. But the truth is, life is not something we possess. It is a gift given to us, a gift we are asked to use well by living well and to live well is to learn how to trust and surrender the source of the gift, not only at the moment of death but everyday of our lives.

These final words of the Lord are also a powerful prayer that will help us dispose ourselves everyday. It is a reminder that the one who prayed it had conquered the greatest evil, the greatest pain, and the greatest darkness that one could ever experience. By following his prayer, the way he recognizes his true identity, and the way he completely trusts the Father will help us also conquer the evil and challenges that will come our way.

Let us then call on God always and unite our spirits with him everyday.

Prayer:

Father, into your hands I commend my spirit. Help me remember that I am your child, especially in moments of fear and weakness. Help me remember that you are always with me. Teach me to grow in trusting you so that day by day, I could offer my all to you. Amen. 

Fr. Jesus M. Madrid, Jr. is an ordained priest of the Archdiocese of Manila. He is currently in Rome for further studies, pursuing a Licentiate in Theology with a major in Vocation Formation at the Pontifical Gregorian University.

Epilogue

 

Beneath the cross, we bow in adoration before You, Lord Jesus.

Your whole life was a life spent in love. In Your hidden life, You allowed that love to be nurtured. In Your public ministry, You courageously proclaimed it to all without exception. 

Thank You for Your Seven Last Words, O Christ. May they give us consolation in these challenging times. May they also wake us up from the long sleep of apathy, selfishness, and lack of discernment. 

In Your love, save our world, our country, Your people.

One with Mary, we make this prayer. Amen.

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Thank you, sisters and brothers, for joining in our Holy Week special. Thank you also to our writers from across the world who contributed their reflections in our Holy Week special this year. Refreshed and nurtured by Jesus' Seven Last Words, let us proclaim His love to all. God bless!