A Life Lived, A Mission Fulfilled: Commending Bro. Frank Padilla

 Memorial Mass Homily By: Ferdie Gayos | 02 Jan. 2026 @ St. Mary's Cathedral

Today, we gather for a Memorial Mass. We are not here simply because someone has died. We are here because someone has lived.

We come carrying a heavy mix of grief and gratitude, memories and hope. We come to commend our brother, Frank Padilla, into the merciful hands of God. 

At every Sunday Mass, we proclaim: "I believe in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting." Today, that isn't just a creed; it is our lifeline.

What Does "Rest in Peace" Really Mean?

When we say "Rest in Peace," we aren't talking about disappearing or escaping. We are talking about Resting in God.

For centuries, the Church has whispered: "Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him." That’s not a prayer of resignation—it’s a prayer of Faith. In Christ, "rest" isn't inactivity. It’s finally coming home.

Living Christ, Sharing Christ

Bro. Frank’s life confronts us with the mystery we all eventually face: What happens when the journey ends?

The Church doesn't give us a theory; she gives us a Person. Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life." Frank didn’t just believe those words; he lived them.

• He knew faith wasn't a "break glass in case of emergency" kit.
• It was his daily bread—in his family, his service, and his community.
• He lived the Gospel quietly, consistently, and faithfully.

He didn't live perfectly—none of us do—but he lived faithfully. And in the eyes of God, that is what matters.

Grief is Not Despair

Let’s be honest: death is hard. Even Jesus wept at the tomb of His friend Lazarus. The Church allows us to ache and to mourn because love demands it. But for the believer, death is not a wall; it is a door.

In this Mass, we don’t "canonize" Frank. We do something more honest and more hopeful: we pray for him. We entrust him to a God whose mercy is wider than we can imagine. We thank God for the gift he was to his family—to Sis. Gerry, his five children (Ramon, Xavy, Vania, Lily, and Josh), and his 13 grandchildren.

To the family: Frank’s love for you didn't end with his last breath. Love is transformed, not destroyed. The same hands that held you and served you now rest in the hands of God.

To the Communities: MFC and CFC

Bro. Frank’s life is a masterclass in discipleship. He reminds us that following Jesus isn't always about being loud. Usually, it’s about showing up.

• It’s about being steady.
• It’s about serving when no one is watching.
• It’s about trusting God even when the road is unclear.

An Urgent Question for Us

Bro. Frank’s passing leaves us with a gentle but urgent question: If today were our day, would we be ready?

Not ready in fear, but ready in Trust.
Are we living reconciled lives? Are we loving more than we are clinging? Are we anchored in Christ rather than in our own control?

The Good News

Bro. Frank did not walk into death alone. He walked with the same Christ who fed him at the altar, the same Christ who forgave him in Confession, and the same Christ who promised, "In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places."

Frank now rests where faith becomes sight. We say goodbye, but not farewell. We grieve, but we do not lose hope.

Our Prayer Today:
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.

And for us who remain on the journey: May we live more deeply, Living and Sharing Christ, until the day we are all gathered home.

Bro. Frank Padilla’s legacy continues in the mission of Missionary Families of Christ. Let us carry the torch of faith he held so well.

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🕯️ Advent Week 4: The Art of Holy Waiting (When the Impossible Becomes Real)

 

Late post: Homily given on Dec. 21, 2025 @ St. Partrick's Parish Church, 9am, 11am and 4pm

Dear brothers and sisters, when we look around us, we cannot deny that Christmas is already here. All the Christmas songs, Christmas carols, Christmas parties, Christmas shopping, and some, if not most of us here, have probably done Christmas exchange gifts in the office or within our close circle of friends.

We also see here that all the four candles of Advent wreath are lit. Christmas truly is very close. It is already here but not yet. Not yet because in the words of St. John the Baptist, we are still in a time of preparation, repentance, and waiting.

And this is why Advent is very important in the life of a believer. It teaches us the art of holy waiting — not passive waiting, but the kind of waiting that prepares a room in the heart for God’s promise and at the same time, set before us on this 4^th Sunday of Advent one more invitation:

to hope that dares to trust the impossible.

And the Church does something beautiful today to help us prepare a room in our hearts and learn how to hope and trust the impossible – she slows us down. She asks us not to rush ahead to the manger just yet, but to stop…to listen… and to watch how God enters the world.

In the 1^st reading, the prophet Isaiah captures the tension between human fear and divine fidelity. In here, the faithless King Ahaz, who was paralyzed by fear, chooses political maneuvering over trusting God. When he refuses God’s invitation to ask for a miraculous sign during a national crisis, God gave a sign anyway:

“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.”

Imagine you are King Ahaz and hearing these words amid war and political collapse. But Isaiah asks us to listen as God declares that salvation begins:

·       not in power

·       not in armies

·       but in a woman’s womb.

God’s secret weapon — right there, hidden in the body of someone no one expected.

Theologically, this "God with us" promise signifies that salvation is a divine initiative, not a human achievement. It shows us that God's grace persists even when human faith fails.

And then our gospel writer Matthew today brings us into the troubled heart of Joseph. He begins with the premise that Joseph is a righteous man. A man who loves God and Mary with integrity.

But now he stands in a storm of confusion: Mary is with child… and it is not by him.

The plan is ruined…. the story is broken. His dreams for a quiet, holy family life have just collapsed right in front of him.

He could have chosen the easy path — walk away…. protect his own name…. avoid scandal…. continue life as expected. That would be a reasonable thing to do.

But God…. brothers and sisters, does not always move in ways that feel “reasonable.”

Joseph had a dream — a divine interruption — and that dream offered him new choices:

·       Stay.

·       Trust.

·       Welcome what you did not plan. 

Let God’s future break into your life through this child. Let hope rewrite the ending.

My friends, Advent Hope, often feels like that — A risk…. A leap…. A “yes” into the unknown. Because God’s promises are rarely convenient. He does not wait for the perfect moment. He enters in the messiness of human stories: in family misunderstandings, in sleepless nights of anxiety, in fear of the future, and in the wounds we hide from others

Emmanuel does not mean “God above us” or “God ahead of us.” It means: God with us — right where we are trying to hold life together.

So today I want to speak especially to those who come here with a heavy heart:

·       Maybe this Christmas is the first without someone you love.  Maybe a relationship is strained. Maybe the bills are piling up. Maybe you are carrying shame or fear that you cannot speak aloud. Maybe you feel like Joseph — confused by what God has allowed in your life.

But hear this truth: God has already stepped into that place.

Your situation is the very manger where Jesus desires to be born.

Joseph teaches us something vital - hope is trust that God is doing something new, even when we cannot see it yet.

The dream does not tell Joseph how the story ends. But he allowed that seemingly incomplete story to be bigger than his fear. And that is what faith looks like.

This final Sunday of Advent challenges us to ask:

·       Where is God inviting me to trust him in a new way?

·       Who is God calling me to welcome?

·       What fear must I surrender to allow Christ to enter my life more fully?

Maybe God is asking me to forgive someone I swore I would never speak to again. Maybe the Lord is nudging me toward a decision I have been avoiding. Maybe God is saying, “Do not be afraid — this child, this promise, is from Me, and I do not make mistakes!”

Brothers and sisters, don’t be afraid to change direction when God speaks.

Don’t be afraid to take Mary into your home — that is, to embrace God’s plan even when it seems inconvenient…. Scandalous…. Confusing.

Joseph shows us that salvation depends on the small, quiet yes of a faithful heart. As Christmas draws near — only days away — let us prepare a place for Christ.

·       Not a perfect place.

·       Not a clean and organized place.

·       But a real place, right here in our hearts where Emmanuel can be God-with-us in truth.

This week, I ask you to make one concrete act of Advent hope. Just one. This maybe something inconvenient or something difficult to say. Something that says to God: “Yes. I trust the impossible.”

·       Maybe it’s a phone call.

·       Maybe it’s a visit.

·       Maybe it’s a prayer whispered in trembling.

·       Maybe it’s offering forgiveness that feels difficult to say

 One act of hope — that is enough to let Christ be born.

And when we gather here on Christmas Day, the Christ we encounter in the manger will not be far away… He will be the God who has already entered your story, already moved into the hidden corners of your life, already whispering:

“Do not be afraid. I am with you.”

Emmanuel.

God with us.

God with you.

God with me.

Now and always.

Amen.

The Feast of All Feasts: Is He King of Your Life?

 

Late post: Homily given on the Feast of Christ the King, Year C - Nov. 23, 2025 @ St. Patrick's Parish Church, 1pm and 4pm

Brothers and sisters, after 51 weeks of journeying through the longing of Advent, the joy of Christmas, the grit of Lent, and the fire of Pentecost, we have arrived at the final jewel of the liturgical year.

Today is the Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe.

In our Catholic tradition, a "Solemnity" is the highest rank possible. It’s the Feast of all Feasts. The Church is basically hitting the "emergency broadcast" button and saying: "Pay attention! What we are celebrating today is the very heartbeat of our faith!"

The Great Truth

Today, the Church proclaims one loud, joyful mystery:

• Whatever you’ve learned this year…
• Whatever you’ve struggled with…
• Whatever victories or wounds you’re carrying…
• Let it all come under one truth: Christ is King.

But hold on. When we hear "King," we think of earthly power, glory, and domination. But Jesus? He flips the script. He doesn’t rule from an ivory tower; He rules from a Cross.

Here are the three ways our King moves in your life today:

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1. He GATHERS the Broken (2 Sam. 5:1-3)

In the first reading, the tribes of Israel come to David and say, "We are your bone and flesh." David wasn’t a distant ruler; he was one of them. He didn’t say "Go!" to his troops; he said "Let us go."

The "Aha!" Moment: Christ is the new David. He unites the "broken tribes" of humanity. Look around our pews! We’ve got people from every political tribe, every background, and every struggle. In a world split by anger and pride, Christ the King gathers us back into one family. He doesn’t just watch our battles; He’s in the trenches with us.

2. He REVEALS the Invisible God (Col. 1:12-20)

St. Paul gives us what theologians call the "Hymn of Glory." He tells us that Christ is the image of the invisible God—the One who holds all things together.

Listen to this, because it’s a game-changer: This King who holds the universe together also holds you.

• He holds your shaken faith.
• He holds your tired heart.
• He holds your struggling family.
• Nothing stands between you and God except Christ—and He is on your side! Every power you fear bows before Him.

3. He REDEEMS from a Cross (Luke 23:35-43)

Here is the strange, glorious paradox: Our King is crucified. The world mocks Him: "If you’re the King, save yourself!"

But Jesus shows His power precisely by staying on the Cross.

• The greatest act of kingship isn't conquest; it’s sacrifice.
• The greatest show of strength isn't escape; it’s endurance.
• He reigns not by taking power, but by giving love.

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The Choice: Which Thief Are You?

Beside Jesus hang two criminals. They represent the choice every human heart must make:

• One mocks: He stays trapped in his pain and pride.
• One prays: He utters history’s simplest, most humble cry: "Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom."

It wasn't a perfect prayer. It wasn't a theological masterpiece. It was just a broken man placing his hope in a King who never abandons. And Jesus responds with a royal decree: "Today you will be with Me in paradise."

Not "someday." Not "after you prove yourself." TODAY.

Your "Alive in Christ" Challenge

As we close this liturgical year, it’s time to lay down your own crowns at the foot of His Cross:

• Lay down the crown of Pride.
• Lay down the crown of Fear.
• Lay down the crown of Self-reliance.

When the Priest elevates the Sacred Host today, make that thief’s prayer your own: "Jesus, remember me."

Let the King rule. Let the King heal. Let the King gather what is scattered in your life.

Viva Cristo Rey! Long live Christ the King!