The moment news broke that ICC judges could have their assets frozen by a powerful state, I did not feel alarm—I felt a jolt of grim recognition. For once, consequence knocked on the door of those who sit in distant chambers, passing judgment on a country they barely listen to. To me, this development feels less like injustice and more like karma catching up.

I have also seen this movie before, but from the other side of the screen. When the ICC revived its case against former President Rodrigo Duterte’s drug war, I watched how quickly the narrative hardened—how slogans replaced nuance, and how statistics were lifted without the weight of context. Many of these judges, in my view, seemed more attentive to international political talking points than to the lived fears of Filipino communities once held hostage by drug syndicates. The freezing of assets now feels like a reversal of roles: the insulated are suddenly exposed.

Let me be clear about where I stand. Freezing assets is indeed leverage, but leverage is not always immoral. It becomes problematic only when used blindly, and that is precisely what many Filipinos feel was done to them. The ICC’s posture on the drug war often appeared to me as pre-judgment dressed up as a legal process, a courtroom already convinced before hearing the whole, messy, painful story of a nation trying to survive its own demons.

The judges and their defenders often invoke human rights —and rightly so. But I have long been troubled by how selectively those rights seemed to be framed. Where was the same urgency for the ordinary Filipinos killed by addicts, the families ruined by drug-fueled violence, the communities abandoned long before Duterte ever took office? When judges listen more closely to advocacy scripts than to an entire nation’s welfare, criticism is not only fair—it is necessary.

What this asset freeze signals, at least to me, is that international power is no longer a one-way street. For years, smaller states have been told to comply, explain, and apologize. Now the judges themselves are feeling how fragile authority becomes when it drifts too far from the people it claims to protect. The so-called erosion of trust did not begin with sanctions; it started when many Filipinos realized they were being judged, not heard.
There is, of course, a human side here too, and I do not dismiss it lightly. Judges have families and personal lives, just as the victims of drugs and crime do. But accountability has always been personal for Filipinos who buried loved ones without international sympathy or press conferences. If discomfort now reaches those in robes, perhaps it mirrors—only faintly—the discomfort long endured by ordinary citizens.

I cannot help but note the irony with a wry smile. Institutions that present themselves as neutral arbiters often recoil when the spotlight turns on them. It turns out judges, like politicians, do not enjoy pressure when it is no longer abstract. That realization alone punctures the myth of moral invulnerability.

If there is a way forward, it begins with humility on all sides. The ICC must learn to listen beyond advocacy circles and political echo chambers, and to engage nations as complex societies, not case files. Justice that ignores the general welfare of an entire people is not justice at all—and when consequences arrive, I find it hard to call them anything but deserved.

THIS is said of Mary, the mother of Christ and our Mother too. This was prophesied already of her in the Book of Isaiah 7,14: “Behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel.” And it was realized by that famous response of Mary to the Archangel Gabriel, despite the tremendous mystery involved: “Behold, the handmaid of the Lord, may it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk 1,38)

We need to understand that this part of the gospel should remind us that we too are meant to conceive the very Son of God who is the pattern of our humanity. With him, we actualize the will of God for us—that we be his image and likeness, children of his, sharers of his divine life and nature.

Christ did not become man only to save us from our sins. He came to make us one with us. He had to assume our human nature, emptying himself in the process, to be with us, to identify himself with us even to the extent of becoming like sin without committing sin. He did all this, of course, to save us. But what is even more important for us to realize is that he did all this so we can become like him, that he and us can really become one.
And for this to happen, what is needed on our part is to give everything to God through Christ in the Holy Spirit. This is how we too can conceive Christ in our life, becoming like him who wants to be born in us and to be one with us too.

We definitely need to learn how to give ourselves totally to God and to the others, since we cannot deny that we have a strong tendency to put some strings attached whenever we have to give something to the others.

We have to make an effort, always asking, of course, for the grace of God first of all, so that we can learn to assume this attitude with respect to our self-giving. In the end, this will make us to be like Christ who gave himself totally to us, including giving his life for our sins.

Let’s remember what he told his disciples once: “Freely you have received, freely you have to give.” (Mt 10,8) Gratuitousness should characterize our self-giving to God and to others, just as gratuitousness characterizes God’s love for us. Such gratuitousness will gain us much more than what we give away.

In this regard, we have to do some continuing battle against our unavoidable tendency to be calculating in our self-giving. Not only do we have to contend with our personal weaknesses in this regard. We also have to contend with a tremendous cultural environment, so prevalent these days, that not only is not conducive to this attitude of Christian generosity but is also hostile to it.

We constantly have to rectify our intentions when we have to give to others—be it things, a service, or matter of attention and affection. This is especially so when our giving is for God. Let’s never forget that God cannot be outdone in generosity.

We should always be encouraged to give ourselves to God and others gratuitously without strings attached, without conditions. Even if instead of being reciprocated properly and requited, our love is misunderstood and rejected by others, we just have to go on loving. The only reason for loving is because that is what true love is. It is this love that is the real essence of God, of whom we are his image and likeness.

This is how we can have Christ born in us through virginal conception.