This Easter Sunday, I walk slowly, reflectively. I carry in my heart not just the memory of an empty tomb, but the weight of what that empty tomb demands of me. The Risen Christ comes to me, as he did to his first disciples, and says, “Peace be with you” (John 20:19). These words are not merely to soothe; they are a revolutionary summons—to receive, embody, and proclaim the salaam-shalom of God in a world torn by violence, inequality, and despair. The peace of Jesus is not sentimental. It is subversive. “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you,” he says (John 20:21). The Father sent him into the heart of empire, injustice, and religious corruption. Jesus responded not with the sword, but with humility, suffering love, and bold truth-telling—even unto death. And when he rose, he did not return with vengeance but with peace. “Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself!” (Luke 24:39).
The resurrected Christ still bore the wounds of crucifixion—proof that peace does not erase suffering, but transforms it. Resurrection does not bypass death; it overcomes it. Easter is not escape—it is uprising. It is God’s resounding YES to life, justice, and nonviolent love.
I hold this sacred truth as I contemplate the Philippines—my wounded, beloved homeland.
How can I celebrate resurrection while my people remain nailed to crosses?
:: The Indigenous Peoples, especially the Lumad and the Tumandok, continue to defend their ancestral lands against militarization and plunder. Many have been displaced, their leaders red-tagged, their schools shut down.
:: Our farmers, the foundation of our food security, still face landlessness, high costs of production, and the devastating impacts of climate change. El Niño in 2024–2025 has scorched rice fields and dried communal irrigation systems, with Central Luzon and Mindanao among the hardest-hit regions.
:: Our fisherfolk, especially in the West Philippine Sea, face aggression and intimidation from foreign vessels. In March 2025, Filipino fishers reported being water-cannoned again by Chinese coast guard ships near Bajo de Masinloc (Scarborough Shoal), as diplomatic protests continue to go unheeded.
:: The youth, watching history rewritten and tyranny normalized, struggle between resignation and awakening. Many are rising, resisting disinformation and rekindling civic imagination—but they face online harassment and systemic neglect.
:: Journalists, human rights workers, and peace advocates are still being red-tagged and silenced. In 2024, the Philippines was ranked 134 out of 180 in the World Press Freedom Index—still among the most dangerous countries for journalists in Southeast Asia.
:: The Bangsamoro Transition Authority (BTA), extended until 2025, continues to face immense challenges: disarmament, reintegration of combatants, rebuilding war-torn communities, harmonizing Shari’ah law with national legal frameworks, and ensuring inclusive governance. As of early 2025, the decommissioning of former Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) combatants remains incomplete, with delays in promised socioeconomic packages and reintegration programs. Internally displaced persons (IDPs), especially in conflict-affected areas like Marawi and Maguindanao del Sur, still await dignified return and just compensation. Yet despite these obstacles, the Bangsamoro people persist in building a society rooted in justice, dignity, and peace. Their struggle is a resurrection story in the making.
“Through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things… by making peace through his blood on the cross” (Colossians 1:20).
This is not peace as the world gives. This is a peace that confronts, heals, and liberates.
The Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6) calls me to this path—not to retreat from the world’s wounds, but to step into them with truth and love. His peace is not passive—it is active:
:: justice that rolls like a river (Amos 5:24),
:: truth that sets free (John 8:32),
:: love that chooses solidarity over safety.
This Easter, I ask myself:
:: Am I truly living the peace of Christ?
:: Am I a voice for justice, even when it costs me comfort or approval?
:: Do I walk in solidarity with the crucified peoples of this land—farmers, fisherfolk, Indigenous communities, youth, Bangsamoro—trusting in the God who makes all things new? (Revelation 21:5)
Today, I recommit to the Way of Jesus—the Way of peace that disturbs the status quo, the Way of justice that unsettles the powerful, the Way of love that refuses to be silent.
In a nation scarred by crucifixions, I will be a witness to resurrection.
In a people longing for healing, I will be an instrument of salaam-shalom.
Prayer
Risen Christ,
Breathe your peace into me—not as escape, but as power.
Give me the courage to speak truth and to walk with those abandoned and betrayed.
Teach me to follow you into the heart of the struggle—
with eyes open, hands extended, and heart unafraid.
Let your Spirit revive this land.
Let justice rise in the Bangsamoro, in the Cordilleras, in our islands and cities.
Let your resurrection shake our apathy and awaken our hope.
Make me a disciple of your peace,
a companion of the wounded,
a servant of your kingdom.
Amen.
