In my Father’s House

05-03-2026Weekly ReflectionFr. Bing Colasito

My father’s house is my home. My three brothers and I grew up there, each of us doing our part to turn that house into a place of warmth and belonging. At our table, we were nourished daily—not only by the meals our mother lovingly prepared, but also by the shared responsibilities we carried. My two older brothers and I took turns setting the table, washing the dishes after meals, and cleaning the dining and kitchen areas.

In my father’s house, everyone had a role. We cared for the inside by keeping it clean and orderly, and for the outside by tending the lawn and garden. Ours was a modest Filipino home in a subdivision just outside the city. It had four rooms: a master bedroom for our parents; one that I shared with my younger brother; and separate rooms for my two older brothers. The three eldest siblings were each a year apart, while my youngest brother was three years younger than I am.

More than simply providing a place to live, my parents transformed that house into a true home by nurturing us physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

As I grew up, I became deeply aware of the values that mattered most to my parents. Education was at the top of that list. All of us completed our elementary and high school education at Divine Word University of Tacloban (DWUT), a Catholic institution run by the SVD Fathers. For college, our parents supported us in pursuing the fields and universities of our choice, with the expectation that we would earn at least a bachelor’s degree. They also continued to support those of us who chose to pursue graduate studies.

Faith was another cornerstone of our home. Each night, we prayed the rosary followed by the Angelus. Every Sunday, we attended Mass together as a family—no question asked. The only acceptable reason to stay home was illness. Living in a deeply Catholic culture, we faithfully observed traditions such as attending Mass on holy days of obligation, joining processions and novenas, and celebrating our parish fiesta honoring Our Lady of Lourdes every February 11. These practices became the seeds that formed and nourished my vocation to the priesthood.

Respect for elders was also deeply ingrained in us. I addressed my older brothers with the title “Kuya”- Kuya Butch (Edward), the eldest, and Kuya Tantan (Jonathan), the second. In turn, my younger brother Jason calls me Kuya Bing, just as I honor those older than me.

Respecting and honoring our parents is a path to a blessed and successful life, while dishonoring them is believed to lead to hardship and unhappiness.

All these memories of my father’s house help me understand Jesus' message about the Father’s house. I imagine the rooms in our home when Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.” He assures His disciples, “I go to prepare a place for you, so that where I am, you also may be.” His words remind me of how my parents prepared a place for my brothers and me - a place we call home. They thought of us even before we were born and invested so much love into creating a home for us.

And yet, even that love cannot compare to the depth of God’s love for each one of us. What a difference it would make if Jesus merely gave us directions to where He is. Like Thomas, we might say, “Lord, we do not know the way.” But Jesus responds to all who are uncertain: “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” He not only prepares a place for us - He Himself becomes the way that leads us to the Father’s house.