Youngster

15/08/2026

August 16, 2026 | 𝗧𝗪𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 (𝗔)
Isaiah 56:1, 6-7
Psalm 67:2-3, 5, 6, 8
Romans 11:13-15, 29-32
Matthew 15:21-28

𝗢𝗙 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗣𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗦
Cl. Anjon Fredrick Mamunta, SSP

In one of my exams, our professor announced a triad group oral exam. Seated with a friend, we scanned for a third classmate to complete our group. Parang sure na. It felt natural, expected. But when the moment came, he chose someone else.

𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘬𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘺𝘢𝘳𝘪. No confrontation, no awkwardness. We just moved on and formed another group. But for a brief moment, something shifted inside. That quiet realization—𝘢𝘩, 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘢𝘬𝘰 𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪. It’s small, but familiar: not being chosen. Not rejected outright, but not preferred. And without noticing, we lower expectations. 𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰… 𝘬𝘢𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘢𝘬𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘢.

In today’s Gospel, a Canaanite woman—an outsider, not of the chosen people—approaches Jesus to heal her daughter. He doesn’t answer at first. When He speaks, His words sting: “It is not right to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She could’ve walked away, accepting she wasn’t meant for more.

But she stays. No demands, just quiet, firm faith: “Please, Lord, even the dogs eat the scraps from the table.” It sounds like settling for less. But listen closer: she believes even the smallest from Jesus is enough. What comes from Him, however tiny, holds power beyond sight. Jesus sees it. “O woman, great is your faith!” He grants her request—not scraps, but full healing. What she trusted as enough has become more than enough.

Maybe here the Gospel meets us. Moments when we’re not first choice, when life hands us leftovers. We start believing that’s our worth. But Jesus doesn’t love like that. With Him, nothing is “just a scrap.” Even the smallest grace overflows.

So in those quiet not-chosen moments, will we walk away, or stay and trust? In Jesus, even what seems small is already more than enough.

14/08/2026

See you there!

ST PAULS × MIBF CONNECT IS NOW LIVE!

Your digital connection to everything ST PAULS at MIBF 2026 — tickets, events, new books, exclusive discounts, and the Blessing & Hope Stop schedule.

Connect now:
https://stpaulsmibfportal.com
H3 Booth Nos. 11–15
September 9–13, 2026 | 10 AM–8 PM
SMX Convention Center Manila

Connect. Discover. Experience every story in a new light.

14/08/2026

𝗛𝗢𝗣𝗘 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗔 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 ✨

𝗠𝗮𝗿𝘆’𝘀 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 reminds us that this world—with all its struggles, chaos, and pain—is not our final destination. Through her 𝘆𝗲𝘀 to God, her faithful journey, and her being assumed body and soul into heaven, Mary points us toward the promise of eternal life.

Like Mary, we may face trials that test our faith,
but we are never without hope. 💙

The Assumption invites us to keep trusting in God’s promise, persevere in holiness, and remember that beyond every earthly struggle is the everlasting life He has prepared for us. 🙏✨

10/08/2026

𝗧𝗩𝘀. 𝗘𝗴𝗴𝘀. 𝗕𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗲𝘀. 𝗙𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿.
What do they have in common? 👀📺🥚☀️

Meet 𝗦𝘁. 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗔𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘀𝗶—a saint whose intercession has been sought for fertility, good weather, and even television! From the 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘨𝘰 of Obando to eggs offered in prayer, and from a sickbed in Assisi to the “first televiewer,” her story shows how faith and devotion continue to speak to the needs of people today. ✨🙏

Discover why St. Clare is truly a woman of our times in this issue of Youngster! 💛

09/08/2026

August 9, 2026 | 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 (𝗔)
1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a
Psalm 85:9, 10, 11-12, 13-14
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:22-33

𝗝𝗘𝗦𝗨𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗞𝗦 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥
Ms. Carmie Flor Ortego

I couldn’t float for the longest time. Swimming was admittedly a difficult skill for me. I learned the other skills like bobbing soon enough though; it was only supine floating that stumped me. I convinced myself that it was probably because I had trouble letting myself go long enough in the water to feel weightless or some other trust issue like that. If I held my head back long enough for my ears to be submerged, I feared that the water would get into my ears and cause me to be temporarily deaf as I have been so many times before. Perhaps something would go wrong as I tried to return to my original stance after floating, so much so that I would accidentally drink seawater or ingest it through my nose. Maybe I wouldn’t even know how to go back and I’d be stuck in the sea just floating. Or perhaps my body would be too dense that even its buoyancy would be overpowered.

So when I finally learned how to float, suffice it to say that it was an almost mystical experience for me. There I was in the pool, just a few days after my birthday, trying to squint at the clouds and remember the kind of sky I saw that first time I was able to trust myself and the water enough to let go. The clouds were backlit by the sun and I recited a line from one of Mary Oliver’s poems, “It is a serious thing to be alive on this fresh morning in the broken world,” over and over as I let the current take me where it willed.

That was floating for me. What more if we were actually capable of walking on water through our faith in Jesus? What more if, rather than feeling the water around us, we felt it under our feet and we walked on it even with the wind howling around us? How much more extraordinary would it be if we saw that Jesus is waiting for us all the time, with his hand ready to reach out and catch us the moment we sink? Let us pray that we may have more faith instead of doubt, that we may keep our eyes on Jesus so we may rise above the waves of life’s struggles and walk on water as Jesus meant us to.

08/08/2026

August 9, 2026 | 𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 (𝗔)
1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a
Psalm 1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a
Romans 9:1-5
Matthew 14:22-33

𝗔𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛
Ms. Fatimah Joy Almarez

Before, whenever I read this Gospel, what stood out to me was that Jesus walked on water—a revelation of a God of miracles. But now that I have aged, and have seen more of life, what now moves me are two scenes.

The first is this: the disciples going ahead of Jesus, seemingly apart from Him—but in truth, always within His reach.

I know that feeling. There are times when I sense that I have gone ahead, or even wandered away from God. Sometimes I find myself reaching out toward what feels like an unseen hand, toward a God I hope I have not lost through my own sin.

And yet this Gospel reminds me: God has no limit. Jesus walks on water. He crosses what should not be crossed to reach those who are His. No distance, no failure, no turning away places me beyond Him.

And yet even when He comes near, He is not always recognized. I know that, too. Fear rises not because God is absent, but because I do not yet see Him clearly.

The second scene is this: the reaching. Peter reaching out in the storm, no longer steady. And Christ reaching back—without delay. It reminds me of the image of God and man on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo—hands extended toward each other, yet not equally. God’s hand stretches farther, more fully. The distance is already being crossed from His side.

I return to that moment often. Because I know what it is to reach out in the storm, when the hand that reaches begins to fall under the weight of doubt. And I hold on to this: that even as my hand falters, His does not—He is already reaching toward me, to steady me. Not after I have regained my footing. Not after I have proven my faith. But there.
Immediately.

This Gospel reminds me that I am never too far ahead, or too far behind. That nothing places me beyond His reach. That even imperfect faith is enough to begin. Enough to step. Enough to reach. And to trust that the hand is always near. Always within reach.

07/08/2026

⚠️ 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀. 𝘿𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥 𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩?
In a world where opinions spread faster than facts and it's easier to follow the crowd than follow Christ, 𝗦𝘁. 𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶𝗰 reminds us that truth isn't just something we know—it's something we live. Every choice rooted in faith, integrity, and a well-formed conscience becomes a witness to God's light.

🔥 The world doesn't need more noise—it needs disciples who are brave enough to stand for what is true. This Feast of St. Dominic on 𝗔𝘂𝗴𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝟴, dare to pray deeply, learn your faith, and live it boldly. As he said, "We must sow the seed, not hoard it." 🌱

05/08/2026

𝗣𝗢𝗩: You thought 𝙊𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 was the Church's "nothing's happening" season. 🌿

𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 𝗧𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗧: It's where the real story of faith unfolds—not in the highlight reel, but in the everyday moments that quietly shape who we're becoming.

Because maybe God isn't waiting for the next retreat, feast day, or life-changing moment—maybe He's already meeting you in your classes, your commute, your group chats, your routines, and every ordinary day that slowly leads you to holiness.

02/08/2026

August 2, 2026 | 𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 (𝗔)
Isaiah 55:1-3
Psalm 145:8-9, 15-16, 17-18
Romans 8:35, 37-39
Matthew 14:13-21

𝗝𝗘𝗦𝗨𝗦 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗗𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗗
Ms. Carmie Flor Ortego

We are told of no greater crowd than this in Jesus’ ministry: five thousand men strong, not even including women and children. Of course, this would pale when compared to modern crowd standards in any decent-sized concert venue, but for Jesus’ time more than two thousand years ago, this is a great crowd indeed. So imagine for a second that you were there following Jesus on foot, so mesmerized and earnestly listening to his teachings that you don’t remember that you live far away until it’s dark. You realize that aside from your heart burning with renewed zeal, your stomach is also trying to tell you that you need to be fed. What to do then?

The disciples have a realistic solution: to send you away so you can buy yourselves some food. But Jesus stops them: there is no need to go; there is sustenance here. And here is where it gets even more astounding that I personally have goosebumps just thinking about it: Jesus feeds them all, five thousand men strong, with women and children, from just the five loaves of bread and two fish. More than just nourishing us spiritually as the Bread of Life, Jesus has time and time again proven that he is also concerned about our material needs. Here is a God who, aside from wanting to be with us in heaven, cares about our earthly lives too! I think of this every time someone in a leadership position asks me to do something, or whenever I have to ask other people to do something for the group: that Jesus would want us to be fed and in good condition when doing something, especially if it is for the good of the Church. Would that our spiritual and government leaders also mirror Jesus’ care towards his flock!

01/08/2026

August 2, 2026 | 𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗜𝗡 𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 (𝗔)
Isaiah 55:1-3
Psalm 145:8-9, 15-16, 17-18
Romans 8:35, 37-39
Matthew 14:13-21

𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛: 𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗬𝗜𝗘𝗟𝗗𝗦 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘
Fatimah Joy Almarez

I came to this Gospel with grief. I know what it is like to seek a deserted place after loss. When my brother, the baby of our family, died so suddenly, I had little preparation for the void that opened inside me. I wanted to retreat—to step away from other people, to grieve where no one could ask anything of me.

After hearing of John the Baptist’s death, Jesus withdrew “to a deserted place by himself.” I recognize that movement—not as escape, but as the body’s turning toward space when something within has been shaken. And yet the crowd followed Him.

Grief does not stop the world from arriving. Need continues. Others still come carrying their own wounds, their own hunger, their own hope that grace might meet them somewhere. I came to know this myself when, even while mourning my brother, I found myself consoling others who had also lost him—his daughter, his childhood friends, those whose sorrow met mine in the same wound. Even in grief, one may still become a place of consolation for others.

The Gospel does not tell us everything about what Jesus carried within Him. It tells us this: “his heart was moved with pity for them.” Even in grief, compassion rises. He does not protect Himself from the crowd. He does not turn them away. There, He responds with mercy—and this reveals something essential about Christ. His compassion is not untouched by pain. It is love that remains open, love that still gives even when wounded.

Then comes the disciples’ protest: “Five loaves and two fish are all we have here.” There are moments when “all we have” feels painfully small before immense need. In grief, one becomes aware of one’s limits. Strength is partial. Words are fragile. Even presence can feel like a poor offering. Like the loaves and fish, what I had to give in those days felt small beside the sorrow surrounding me.

But Christ does not despise smallness. He says, “Bring them here to me.” What follows is not the denial of scarcity, but its transformation. The five loaves and two fish do not remain as they are. In His hands, they multiply. What is little becomes more than it was—not by human effort, but in the hands of Christ.

And there is a detail I cannot overlook. Jesus does not hand the food to the crowd Himself. He gives it to the disciples, and they in turn give it to the people. He places in their hands what He Himself has blessed.This matters deeply. He draws the disciples into what He is doing. This means that grace often reaches others through human hands.

I think of something my mother once told me when I was younger, in one of my darker seasons—that I was God’s investment in the world. That I have value. I understand those words differently now. If Christ allows His blessing to pass through entrusted hands, then human lives are not incidental to His work. We are not the source of grace, but we may carry what He gives. We may become, by His mercy, part of how another person is fed.

So this Gospel is not only about bread. It reveals who Christ is. He does not withdraw His mercy from a grieving world. He answers human insufficiency with abundance. In His hands, what is offered, however small, becomes more than enough. And that is why this passage consoles me now. It tells me that grief does not cancel compassion. What feels insufficient need not be withheld. It tells me that grace begins where surrender does.

Sometimes all I have is small. Sometimes all I have is wounded. Sometimes all I have is what remains. But if I place it in the hands of Christ, even scarcity yields to grace.