Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time
10 August 2025
First Reading: Wisdom 18:6-9
Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 33:1, 12, 18-19, 20-22
Second Reading: Hebrews 11:1-2, 8-19
Gospel: Luke 12:32-48
Reflection By:
Bro. Carlo Alexis Malaluan
Diocese of Imus
While I was visiting a province, I remember
visiting long time friend’s house unexpectedly one day. It was a surprise
visit, and I hadn’t told her I was coming. Yet, the moment she opened the door,
she welcomed me with a warm smile, a table quickly filled with food, and a
heart ready to listen to my stories. It was as if she had been waiting all
along, even if she didn’t know I was on my way. She was ready—not just with her
hands, but with her heart.
Jesus, in today’s Gospel, speaks about that
kind of readiness—not rooted in fear or pressure, but in love and joyful
expectation. He begins with a tender word: “Do not be afraid, little flock, for
it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.” It’s not a warning
shouted from a distance, but an invitation whispered close to the heart. The
tone is not of threat, but of promise.
And yet, what follows is also a call to be
alert, prepared, watchful: “Gird your loins and light your lamps… be like
servants waiting for their master to return.” Jesus paints the picture of a
master who comes not to assert authority, but to serve—astonishingly, he will
have the servants recline at table, and he will wait on them.
It’s a radical reversal. But it reveals
something about God: that when He finds us ready, watching, faithful in our
ordinary lives, He does not repay us with fear or duty, but with intimacy. He
draws near. He serves. He lets us rest in Him
And so we are asked, not to panic about the
unknown time of His return, but to live each day as though He were coming at
any moment. Not with anxiety—but with love.
But what does being “ready” mean? It
doesn’t mean doing something extraordinary every day. Readiness, in the eyes of
the Gospel, looks a lot like faithfulness in the small things—keeping the lamp
of kindness lit even when no one sees, staying true to our responsibilities
when they feel unnoticed, choosing honesty when shortcuts are easier, praying
even when God seems silent.
Jesus also warns: “Much will be required of
the person entrusted with much.” And perhaps this is where it becomes personal.
Because many of us carry responsibilities—over families, communities, roles of
service, even just being a quiet witness of hope to those around us. We are all
stewards of something: time, relationships, talents, opportunities. The
question is not whether we have enough, but whether we are using what we’ve
been given with love and integrity.
The call to be ready is not a call to
paranoia. It’s a call to live awake—to pay attention, to be present, to serve
well, to love deeply. Because when the Lord comes—whether in the great moment
at the end of time, or in the small unexpected encounters of everyday life—He
looks for hearts that are open, lamps that are burning, lives that have been
quietly faithful.
So maybe today, we are being asked: Am I
living like someone who knows the Master could knock any moment? Not with fear,
but with joy. Not as someone trying to impress, but as someone waiting for a
Friend.
Because in the end, that is what readiness means: to be found doing what we were created to do, even when no one is watching. To be like my grandmother—whose door, table, and heart were always ready, simply because love lived there.
Prayer
