“The Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel is especially meaningful to me. It was on this feast last year, July 16, 2025, that my appointment as the new Archbishop of Cebu was announced. I have come to see the timing as divine providence. As I was being called to a new and demanding mission, it was as though the Lord was placing me under the maternal care of Mary.
I can imagine Our Lady quietly telling me: “Abet, do not be afraid because I am here to accompany you.” And this is really the role of Mary in our lives: she accompanies us so that she may lead us to Jesus.
In our First Reading, the prophet Elijah is on Mount Carmel. The land has suffered from a long and terrible drought. The earth is dry. The people are waiting. Elijah prays, and then something very small appears on the horizon: a cloud rising from the sea, “as small as a man’s hand.”
It did not look impressive. It did not seem like much. But soon the sky grew dark with clouds, the wind began to blow, and abundant rain came upon the land.
Christian tradition has often seen this little cloud as an image of Mary. She appeared small and insignificant in the eyes of the world, a young woman from the little town of Nazareth. No wealth. No political power. No worldly influence. And yet, through her came Jesus Christ, the source of grace and salvation.
This teaches us something beautiful: Never underestimate the small beginnings of God.
A small prayer can begin a conversion. A small act of kindness can restore someone’s hope. A small act of forgiveness can heal a broken relationship. A small “yes” to God can change the direction of a life.
Mary’s simple fiat—“Let it be done to me according to your word”—opened the door for the Savior to enter the world.
This leads us naturally to our Second Reading. St. Paul tells us: “When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman.”
God chose to enter our human family through Mary. He could have come in a spectacular and dramatic way. But God chose the quiet path of humility. Jesus came to us through the womb, the love, and the care of a mother.
Sometimes our devotion to Mary is misunderstood. Some may ask, “Why do Catholics ask Mary to pray for them? Why not go directly to Jesus?” Of course, we can and should go directly to Jesus. Mary never replaces Jesus. She is not our Savior; Jesus is our only Savior. But asking Mary to pray for us does not take us away from Christ. It draws us more deeply into the communion of His family.
We ask our family and friends, “Please pray for me.” In the same way, we ask the Mother of Jesus, whom the Lord has given to us as our mother, “Mary, pray for us. Accompany us. Help us to remain close to your Son.”
And there is something beautifully simple here: If Jesus chose to come to us through Mary, we should not be afraid to allow Mary to help lead us to Jesus.
This brings us to the Gospel. At the foot of the Cross, Jesus sees His mother and the disciple whom He loved. He says to Mary, “Woman, behold your son.” Then He says to the disciple, “Behold your mother.”
These are among the final words of Jesus from the Cross. At the very moment when He was giving His life for us, Jesus gave us another precious gift: His Mother.
Mary became a mother not only to John but, in the Church’s understanding, to every beloved disciple of Jesus. She is a mother in faith. And like every good mother, Mary does not keep her children for herself. She always points beyond herself and says what she said at Cana: “Do whatever He tells you.”
That is the heart of true Marian devotion. And that is also the meaning of the scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. The scapular is not a lucky charm. It is not a magical guarantee that we can live however we want and still expect Mary’s protection. The scapular is a sign of belonging. It reminds us that we place ourselves under Mary’s maternal care and, following her example, seek to belong completely to Christ.
If we wear the scapular, we should also try to wear the virtues of Mary: her humility, her obedience, her purity of heart, her courage, and her faithfulness to Jesus, even when faithfulness leads us to the foot of the Cross.
Last year, on this feast, I received a new mission. I knew then, and I know even more clearly now, that I cannot carry this responsibility by my own strength. The Archdiocese of Cebu is a large and beautiful flock, carrying many hopes and dreams, but also many wounds, struggles, and needs.
And so today, one year after the announcement of my appointment, I entrust once again my ministry and the entire Archdiocese of Cebu to Our Lady of Mount Carmel.
Hold my hand
There is a simple story about a little child walking with his mother through a dark place. The child became frightened and said, “Mama, I cannot see the road.”
His mother answered, “You do not have to see the whole road. Just hold my hand.”
The child held his mother’s hand more tightly and continued walking.
Final Words
Perhaps this is what Mary says to us today.
There will be moments when we cannot see the whole road ahead. There will be droughts in our lives when we wonder whether the rain will ever come. There will be crosses we do not understand. There will be responsibilities that seem greater than our strength.
We may not see the whole road. But we are not walking alone.
Mary walks with us, not to make us dependent on her, but to lead us to her Son. And as a mother does, she keeps reminding us: “Hold on to Jesus. Trust Him. Do whatever He tells you.”
Brothers and sisters, sometimes all we can see is a small cloud on the horizon. Do not lose hope. The small cloud became abundant rain. The humble woman of Nazareth became the Mother of God. And the Cross, which appeared to be the end, became the beginning of our salvation.
So today, let us pray: Our Lady of Mount Carmel, teach us to trust when we cannot see the whole road. Stay with us in our moments of drought. Stand beside us in our moments of suffering. Lead us always to your Son. And keep us faithful to Jesus until the end. Amen.”