25/08/2026
𝗛𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗥𝗲𝘃. 𝗥𝘂𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗼 𝗦𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗼𝗻, 𝗢𝗣, 𝗗𝗗, 𝗕𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗽 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗮𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗮, 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗰𝗰𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗢𝗿𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 | 𝗔𝘂𝗴𝘂𝘀𝘁 24, 2026, 𝗙𝗲𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗦𝘁. 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘄
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, I asked the ordinandi if there was any particular or special reason why they are being ordained today, on this feast of St. Bartholomew, and they answered in the negative. But I always believe in providence, and so permit me to find a connection with today's celebration and ordination.
There is something wonderfully Dominican in today's Gospel. Nathaniel begins with a question: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” I believe that a Dominican is a man who loves questions. He loves questions because Truth Himself became flesh. Every authentic question, when honestly pursued, is already a pilgrimage towards Jesus Christ, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. Nathaniel began with a question and ended by discovering that someone infinitely good could indeed come from Nazareth: Jesus Christ. And Jesus then tells him, “You will see greater things.”
Today, let us enter the same journey, especially our brothers Alexander, Jeffrey, Laurence, and Vince: the journey of the question, the encounter, and the promise.
Can Anything Good Come from Nazareth?
Nathaniel's reaction to Philip's invitation is very human.
We often judge people according to their origin, appearance, education, social status, politics, mistakes, or past. We put people into categories and conclude, “Nothing good can come from that person, from that family, from that group.”Sometimes we even say it about ourselves: “Nothing good can come from me.”
But the Gospel tells us that God is always capable of coming from Nazareth. God loves to begin His greater works in people and places human beings overlook. Jesus comes from Nazareth. The Messiah comes from an ordinary place. Yes, good things and miracles can still come from Nazareth.
Pardon me if I would inject my predilection to the Nazareno of Quiapo. No wonder so many people approach Him and identify with Him, because these are the very same people who think nothing good can come out from them. But they turn to the One from Nazareth. Sa Nazareno na nagpapakitang may angking kabutihan at may natatagong kagandahan pa rin galing sa Diyos.
And perhaps this is one of the first lessons for you, dear brothers: a priest must learn to see God where others see nothing. A priest must see possibilities where the world sees only problems. A priest must discover grace where others see only disaster.
You will meet people, dear brothers, people whom others have already given up on: prisoners, migrants, addicts, broken families, young people who have lost their faith, elderly people who feel forgotten, people angry with the Church, people carrying deep wounds.
Some will come to you carrying their shame, guilt, despair, and emptiness. Your task will not always be to give them an immediate solution. Sometimes your first priestly task will simply be to accompany them and help them believe God can still do something beautiful in their lives. Something good can still come out of their lives. That task is deeply evangelical and still Dominican.
The Order of Preachers was born into a world filled with religious, intellectual, social, and ecclesial tensions. St. Dominic did not respond by simply condemning the world or fleeing it. He entered into its questions. He walked with people. He studied, he listened, he preached.
A Dominican priest must therefore be a man who takes people and their questions seriously. “Grace perfects nature,” says St. Thomas Aquinas. A Dominican learns to discover God within the truth of creation, human intelligence, history, culture, and within the questions and wounds of humanity. In a society increasingly divided by ideology, class, religion, politics, and even social media, a priest must resist the temptation to see human beings as labels. He must learn to see persons. Nathaniel realized that when Jesus purified him.
And this brings me to my second point.
“I Saw You Under the Fig Tree”
Nathaniel was surprised when Jesus said, “Before Philip called you, I saw you under the fig tree.” We do not know what happened there. Perhaps Nathaniel was praying, studying, struggling, or simply sitting alone. It was an ordinary and hidden moment. Except Jesus saw him. And this is something your ordination asks you never to forget, dear brothers Alex, J**s, Lau, and Vince. You were seen long before you were called and sent.
Before your seminary years, before your idealism, your accomplishments, before you even recognized your vocation, Jesus already saw you under your own fig tree. He saw you in your childhood, in your doubts and struggles, in your sins, and in your acts which you thought no one noticed and saw. You were not chosen because you had already proven yourself worthy or impressive. You were chosen simply because Jesus saw you, knew you, and loved you.
The Church will lay her hands upon your heads today. But the deeper truth is this: Christ's eyes were upon you long before this special day happened. Please do not forget that. Every priest who forgets this can eventually begin to perform his priesthood instead of living his priesthood. He can become concerned with success, titles, reputation, recognition, influence, or applause.
Do not let that happen to you, dear brothers. Remain men who are seen by Jesus.
The priesthood is ultimately about remaining available to the gaze of Christ. Beneath all your activities must remain one simple truth: “Jesus saw me first.” And because Jesus saw you, saw us, we can learn to see ourselves truthfully. We can learn to see others with compassion. That is the heart of our Dominican vocation: to contemplate and hand over to others what we have first contemplated.
Before a priest speaks before God, he must know what it means to be seen by God. A Dominican priest must first become a contemplative, one who allows himself to be seen by God.
“You Will See Greater Things”
Finally, Jesus said to Nathaniel, “You will see greater things.” What a beautiful promise for a vocation: “You will see greater things.” And that is what our Lord is also telling you this afternoon. As you become priests, you will see greater things. This is the spiritual life. Every genuine vocation is an adventure into a mystery greater than our understanding.
You will see God forgive what you thought was unforgivable. You will see conversion and transformation. You will see young people discover their vocation. You will see the dying and the sick discover peace. You will see the Eucharist become the strength of those who thought they had no more strength left. You will see grace working in places where you thought grace was nowhere.
Yes, there will be difficult days ahead. You will preach and feel nobody is listening. You will experience failure and rejection. You will encounter the injustice and evil of this world. You will carry the wounds of the Church and the wounds of this world. And you may ask, “Lord, is anything happening?”
Remember the promise: “You will see greater things.” And you will not lose hope. You will persevere because the priesthood is measured not by results but by fidelity.
Even as a young boy, a young student in Letran, I come here. I approached her to whom the Lord promised that she would see greater things done by the Lord. And I have seen that in my life. And so turn always to Our Lady, because she will be the one to tell you: “You will see greater things if you always keep Jesus in your heart.” That is why, when I was announced to become a bishop, the first place I went to was this shrine and house of Mary. I turned to her who saw greater things done by the Lord, and that is what she will also do for you, dear brothers.
From Nazareth to the New Jerusalem
The first reading gives us the horizon towards which all Christian ministry is moving: the New Jerusalem, the holy City of God, built upon the foundations of the apostles. Foundations are interesting because they are usually unseen. They carry the weight of something greater than themselves. And that is the priesthood. A priest is called to become a foundation upon which others may encounter Christ. You will be called to become foundations of truth in an age of confusion; foundations of communion in an age of division; foundations of hope in an age of anxiety; foundations of truth in an age of misinformation. That is the journey of Nathaniel. It begins with Nazareth and ends with the New Jerusalem. It begins with a question: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” And ends with a bright promise: “You will see greater things.”
And that is precisely the journey of every priest: the journey of God's people, to take people from Nazareth towards the New Jerusalem; from ordinary life to divine life; from questions to Jesus; from despair to hope; from death to resurrection; and ultimately from this world to the vision of God.
Dear Alexander, Jeffrey, Laurence, and Vince, today the Church is not asking whether you are perfect. We already know you are not.
She is not asking whether you have understood everything. You have not.
She is not asking whether you are strong enough for everything the priesthood will demand. You are not.
Rather, the Church is asking whether you are willing to let Christ take your humanity and make it an instrument of His grace.
Your limitations do not alarm Christ. Your weaknesses do not surprise Him. Your past does not frighten Him. He knew you before the Church called you. He saw you under your own fig tree. Yet the Lord loves you and trusts you with His grace of the priesthood. And that is why we are all here today.
Dear brothers and sisters, let us pray for our brothers, that they may always be open and available to the gaze of Christ; that they may never forget the promise: “You will see greater things” if you trust in the Lord.
Today, as the Church lays hands upon you, surrender everything again: your mind, your plans, your wounds, your studies, your future, your priesthood, your very self. Place everything into the hands of Jesus and Mary. Let the Lord take you from Nazareth to Jerusalem, from the fig tree to the altar, from the altar to the people, from the people to God's glorious kingdom.
And when the final evening of your earthly priesthood comes to an end, may you be able to say to the Lord: “Lord, you have called me, and I have seen greater things.
I saw You in the Holy Eucharist.
I saw You in the poor.
I saw You in the sinner.
I saw You in the students struggling.
I saw You in the forgiving person.
I saw You in the Church I love,
even when at times she wounded me.
I saw You in the people You entrusted to my care.”
And through your priesthood, may the people entrusted to your care also say: “We have seen the Lord through you, Father.”
And then may the Lord turn to you and say: “Welcome, good and faithful servant. Behold, enter the holy city, the heavenly Jerusalem, gleaming with the splendor of God.” And there you will discover once again the One who saw you under the fig tree. Amen.
