WORDS of Mary to the servants at the wedding in Cana. (cfr. Jn 2,1-11) While the festive celebration was going on, the mother of Christ noticed that wine was running out. She approached him to inform him of the problem, but her request at first was denied. “Woman, what is that to me and to thee? my hour is not yet come,” he told her. But Mary knew how to handle that situation, and in the end Christ’s first miracle took place.
This is a beautiful story that highlights the fact that a good son would always try his best to accommodate whatever his mother would ask even if such request may involve some difficulty. Mary did not force him to accede to her request. She simply made things easy for such request to be eventually granted.
It cannot be denied that mothers somehow enjoy certain privileges with their children, if they are good children. Thus, Mary did not make an issue of the denial she at first received.
It’s this privilege that Mary enjoyed and continues to enjoy with Christ that a saint once said that she is “the safest, easiest, shortest, and most perfect way of approaching Jesus.” It would be a pity if we fail to realize how effective Mary can be as an intercessor for us. Not only that, she actually can anticipate our needs as dramatized at the wedding in Cana.
Indeed, Mary is the epitome of motherhood who knows how to be a mother even to God and to all of us. All of that because of her perfect identification of her will with the will of God, giving us a concrete example of how a human being can be so identified with God’s will that she becomes God’s perfect image and likeness as God wants her and also us to be.
We are often incredulous, even skeptical, about this possibility. But she managed to do it. Obviously, she was given the necessary graces for that. But she also corresponded to those graces with everything that she had, reflecting in the most perfect way the redemptive mission, full of suffering, of her son. How our Lady was and continues to be should also be how we should be.
And she is all there to help us achieve that dignity of being true children of God who can even be a mother of God and a spouse of God as our Lady was the most dutiful daughter of the God the father, mother of God the Son and spouse of God the Holy Spirit.
Let us just imitate our Lady’s perfect faith shown especially when she said, “Fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum,” (Be it done to me according to your word) during the Annunciation. With that faith which for sure she could not understand completely, she put herself entirely under the designs and dynamics of God’s will of love, of redemption, toward mankind.
Let’s see to it that our devotion to her grows. And if it is practically dormant if not dead, then let’s stir it up to life again. She is important to us. In fact, she is indispensable to us. She cannot be treated as an optional feature in our spiritual life, nor something decorative or appendical only.
While she is not God and, therefore, not to be accorded with the worship that is only due to God (latria), she rightly deserves to be given the highest form of veneration (hyperdulia) among all the saints who are already with God in heaven.
California wildfires
The wildfires, which are razing Los Angeles and leaving ash and heartbreak in their wake, have whipped up a firestorm of not just the winds of destruction but also a heated debate. Some claim this inferno is divine judgment—a celestial payback for what they see as the city’s moral decay. While I’m not dogmatic in declaring these fires to be God’s judgment, I won’t dismiss the notion that actions—collective or individual—often come with consequences. What I do know is what the Bible says: God should not be blasphemed (Galatians 6:7). History is replete with examples of people reaping the consequence of their mockery, and that’s worth reflecting on.
Let’s talk first about this whole “God’s judgment” theory. It’s a bold thing to say, isn’t it? Almost like saying God is up there, monitoring Hollywood’s every move, with a thunderbolt in one hand and a matchstick in the other. But if we’re being honest, it’s a bit simplistic. California wildfires are not new phenomena; they’re as much a part of the state as its beaches and celebrity sightings. The science behind them is solid—dry seasons, climate change, and human negligence. It’s not probably divine lightning striking these hills aflame; it’s usually just sparks from bad wiring or some careless camper’s smoldering firepit.
But there’s more to it than that. If you think about it, claiming these disasters as divine judgment can feel like scapegoating. It diverts attention away from our human failures: poor land management, urban sprawl, climate indifference—to a convenient narrative of “it’s God’s will.” That mindset is a smokescreen, pun intended. It takes us off the hook for being poor stewards of the earth, a role we were called into in Genesis. If the world is groaning, it’s not always due to someone else’s moral decisions; more often than not, it’s a result of our communal neglect of the environment.
Yet there’s some truth to the thought that to mock God—or rather, to live in rebellion against His principles—comes with a price. The world celebrates ways of life that are based on excess, games of power, and self-focus. The unbridled pursuit of fame, money, and influence is not what leads to flourishing communities; most often, it breeds alienation and chaos. Perhaps the fires are not divine judgment, but they are most certainly a glaring reminder of how quickly things we idolize can go up in flames—literally and metaphorically.
And then there’s the irony of the very people who claim to be God’s mouthpieces during these disasters. They cry, “judgment! “ from pulpits or social media platforms but are suspiciously quiet when it comes to offering practical help. It’s easier to wag a finger at Hollywood than to roll up your sleeves and rebuild homes. Meanwhile, firefighters—modern-day Davids facing the Goliath of infernos—work tirelessly, risking life and limb. These are the unsung heroes.
If judgment belongs to anyone, it’s probably not armchair theologians with apocalyptic soundbites. Remember when you heard the same judgmental comments after the Yolanda devastation when some people claimed it was God’s judgment upon Taclobanons? How did you feel? Did you agree with all your heart? Even if we interpret these disasters as a wake-up call, it’s not our job to hold the gavel. It’s our job to be first responders—not to fires but to pain and loss.
We live in a broken world. Fires, floods, hurricanes—they happen, and often strike indiscriminately. Whether they are divine judgments or the natural consequence of living in a fallen creation is a mystery we may never fully untangle. Maybe the best response isn’t to argue whether the fires are divine retribution but to consider how we respond. Do we rebuild with humility? Do we confront the human factors that are exacerbating these tragedies? Do we offer grace to those suffering instead of judgment? If God is speaking through these disasters, it’s probably less about wrath and more about a call to reflection, stewardship, and love—the kind that rebuilds more than just burned-out homes.