Saint John, who was in the Upper Room with the other disciples on the evening of the first day after the Sabbath, tells us that Jesus came and stood among them, and said, “Peace be with you!” and he showed them his hands and his side (Jn 20:19-20); he showed them his wounds. And in this way they realized that it was not an apparition: it was truly him, the Lord, and they were filled with joy.

On the eighth day Jesus came once again into the Upper Room and showed his wounds to Thomas, so that he could touch them as he had wished to, in order to believe and thus become himself a witness to the Resurrection.

To us also, on this Sunday which Saint John Paul II wished to dedicate to Divine Mercy, the Lord shows us, through the Gospel, his wounds. They are wounds of mercy. It is true: the wounds of Jesus are wounds of mercy. “With his stripes we are healed” (Is 53:5).

Jesus invites us to behold these wounds, to touch them as Thomas did, to heal our lack of belief. Above all, he invites us to enter into the mystery of these wounds, which is the mystery of his merciful love.

Through these wounds, as in a light-filled opening, we can see the entire mystery of Christ and of God: his Passion, his earthly life – filled with compassion for the weak and the sick – his incarnation in the womb of Mary. And we can retrace the whole history of salvation: the prophecies – especially about the Servant of the Lord, the Psalms, the Law and the Covenant; to the liberation from Egypt, to the first Passover and to the blood of the slaughtered lambs; and again from the Patriarchs to Abraham, and then all the way back to Abel, whose blood cried out from the earth. All of this we can see in the wounds of Jesus, crucified and risen; with Mary, in her Magnificat, we can perceive that, “His mercy extends from generation to generation” (cf. Lk 1:50).

Faced with the tragic events of human history we can feel crushed at times, asking ourselves, “Why?”. Humanity’s evil can appear in the world like an abyss, a great void: empty of love, empty of goodness, empty of life. And so we ask: how can we fill this abyss? For us it is impossible; only God can fill this emptiness that evil brings to our hearts and to human history. It is Jesus, God made man, who died on the Cross and who fills the abyss of sin with the depth of his mercy.

Saint Bernard, in one of his commentaries on the Canticle of Canticles (Sermon 61, 3-5: Opera Omnia, 2, 150-151), reflects precisely on the mystery of the Lord’s wounds, using forceful and even bold expressions which we do well to repeat today. He says that “through these sacred wounds we can see the secret of [Christ’s] heart, the great mystery of love, the sincerity of his mercy with which he visited us from on high”.

Brothers and sisters, behold the way which God has opened for us to finally go out from our slavery to sin and death, and thus enter into the land of life and peace. Jesus, crucified and risen, is the way and his wounds are especially full of mercy.

The saints teach us that the world is changed beginning with the conversion of one’s own heart, and that this happens through the mercy of God. And so, whether faced with my own sins or the great tragedies of the world, “my conscience would be distressed, but it would not be in turmoil, for I would recall the wounds of the Lord: ‘he was wounded for our iniquities’ (Is 53:5). What sin is there so deadly that it cannot be pardoned by the death of Christ?” (ibid.).

Keeping our gaze on the wounds of the Risen Jesus, we can sing with the Church: “His love endures forever” (Ps 117:2); eternal is his mercy. And with these words impressed on our hearts, let us go forth along the paths of history, led by the hand of our Lord and Saviour, our life and our hope.

“Jesus Christ is risen! Love has triumphed over hatred, life has conquered death, light has dispelled the darkness!

Out of love for us, Jesus Christ stripped himself of his divine glory, emptied himself, took on the form of a slave and humbled himself even to death, death on a cross. For this reason God exalted him and made him Lord of the universe. Jesus is Lord! By his death and resurrection, Jesus shows everyone the way to life and happiness: this way is humility, which involves humiliation. This is the path which leads to glory. Only those who humble themselves can go towards the “things that are above”, towards God (cf. Col 3:1-4). The proud look “down from above”; the humble look “up from below”.

On Easter morning, alerted by the women, Peter and John ran to the tomb. They found it open and empty. Then they drew near and “bent down” in order to enter it. To enter into the mystery, we need to “bend down”, to abase ourselves. Only those who abase themselves understand the glorification of Jesus and are able to follow him on his way.

The world proposes that we put ourselves forward at all costs, that we compete, that we prevail. But Christians, by the grace of Christ, dead and risen, are the seeds of another humanity, in which we seek to live in service to one another, not to be arrogant, but rather respectful and ready to help.

This is not weakness, but true strength! Those who bear within them God’s power, his love and his justice, do not need to employ violence; they speak and act with the power of truth, beauty and love.

From the risen Lord we ask the grace not to succumb to the pride which fuels violence and war, but to have the humble courage of pardon and peace. We ask Jesus, the Victor over death, to lighten the sufferings of our many brothers and sisters who are persecuted for his name, and of all those who suffer injustice as a result of ongoing conflicts and violence.

We ask for peace, above all, for Syria and Iraq, that the roar of arms may cease and that peaceful relations may be restored among the various groups which make up those beloved countries. May the international community not stand by before the immense humanitarian tragedy unfolding in these countries and the drama of the numerous refugees.

We pray for peace for all the peoples of the Holy Land. May the culture of encounter grow between Israelis and Palestinians and the peace process be resumed, in order to end years of suffering and division.

We implore peace for Libya, that the present absurd bloodshed and all barbarous acts of violence may cease, and that all concerned for the future of the country may work to favour reconciliation and to build a fraternal society respectful of the dignity of the person. For Yemen too we express our hope for the growth of a common desire for peace, for the good of the entire people.

At the same time, in hope we entrust to the merciful Lord the framework recently agreed to in Lausanne, that it may be a definitive step toward a more secure and fraternal world.

We ask the risen Lord for the gift of peace for Nigeria, South Sudan and for the various areas of Sudan and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. May constant prayer rise up from all people of goodwill for those who lost their lives – I think in particular of the young people who were killed last Thursday at Garissa University College in Kenya -, for all who have been kidnapped, and for those forced to abandon their homes and their dear ones.

May the Lord’s resurrection bring light to beloved Ukraine, especially to those who have endured the violence of the conflict of recent months. May the country rediscover peace and hope thanks to the commitment of all interested parties.

We ask for peace and freedom for the many men and women subject to old and new forms of enslavement on the part of criminal individuals and groups. Peace and liberty for the victims of drug dealers, who are often allied with the powers who ought to defend peace and harmony in the human family. And we ask peace for this world subjected to arms dealers.

May the marginalized, the imprisoned, the poor and the migrants who are so often rejected, maltreated and discarded, the sick and the suffering, children, especially those who are victims of violence; all who today are in mourning, and all men and women of goodwill, hear the consoling voice of the Lord Jesus: “Peace to you!” (Lk 24:36). “Fear not, for I am risen and I shall always be with you” (cf. Roman Missal, Entrance Antiphon for Easter Day).“

At the heart of this celebration, which seems so festive, are the words we heard in the hymn of the Letter to the Philippians: “He humbled himself” (2:8). Jesus’ humiliation.

These words show us God’s way and, consequently, that which must be the way of Christians: it is humility. A way which constantly amazes and disturbs us: we will never get used to a humble God!

Humility is above all God’s way: God humbles himself to walk with his people, to put up with their infidelity. This is clear when we read the the story of the Exodus. How humiliating for the Lord to hear all that grumbling, all those complaints against Moses, but ultimately against him, their Father, who brought them out of slavery and was leading them on the journey through the desert to the land of freedom.

This week, Holy Week, which leads us to Easter, we will take this path of Jesus’ own humiliation. Only in this way will this week be “holy” for us too!

We will feel the contempt of the leaders of his people and their attempts to trip him up. We will be there at the betrayal of Judas, one of the Twelve, who will sell him for thirty pieces of silver. We will see the Lord arrested and carried off like a criminal; abandoned by his disciples, dragged before the Sanhedrin, condemned to death, beaten and insulted. We will hear Peter, the “rock” among the disciples, deny him three times. We will hear the shouts of the crowd, egged on by their leaders, who demand that Barabas be freed and Jesus crucified. We will see him mocked by the soldiers, robed in purple and crowned with thorns. And then, as he makes his sorrowful way beneath the cross, we will hear the jeering of the people and their leaders, who scoff at his being King and Son of God.

This is God’s way, the way of humility. It is the way of Jesus; there is no other. And there can be no humility without humiliation.

Following this path to the full, the Son of God took on the “form of a slave” (cf. Phil 2:7). In the end, humility also means service. It means making room for God by stripping oneself, “emptying oneself”, as Scripture says (v. 7). This – the pouring out of oneself – is the greatest humiliation of all.

There is another way, however, opposed to the way of Christ. It is worldliness, the way of the world. The world proposes the way of vanity, pride, success… the other way. The Evil One proposed this way to Jesus too, during his forty days in the desert. But Jesus immediately rejected it. With him, and only by his grace, with his help, we too can overcome this temptation to vanity, to worldliness, not only at significant moments, but in daily life as well.

In this, we are helped and comforted by the example of so many men and women who, in silence and hiddenness, sacrifice themselves daily to serve others: a sick relative, an elderly person living alone, a disabled person, the homeless…

We think too of the humiliation endured by all those who, for their lives of fidelity to the Gospel, encounter discrimination and pay a personal price. We think too of our brothers and sisters who are persecuted because they are Christians, the martyrs of our own time – and there are many. They refuse to deny Jesus and they endure insult and injury with dignity. They follow him on his way. In truth, we can speak of a “cloud of witnesses” – the martyrs of our own time(cf. Heb 12:1).

During this week, let us set about with determination along this same path of humility, with immense love for him, our Lord and Saviour. Love will guide us and give us strength. For where he is, we too shall be (cf. Jn 12:26).

It is fair enough and rightly so that the human person has so much questions about the evil of our world. But it does indicate, to a large extent, how much we take for granted the good in and around us. Lent is one of those moments of reflection when we are drawn to tap from the strength and grace of goodness in and around us. It is a willingness to go that extra mile in seeing that goodness triumphs over evil. Sometimes, we marvel at what we can actually accomplish during the holy season of lent.

The suffering of Christ is not suffering for the sake of suffering. Neither does Christ want us to suffer for the sake of suffering. It is a sacrifice; willingness to freely choose to suffer for the good of others. By this he transforms the meaning of suffering and pain; urging us to follow the steps of the suffering servant, who came not to be served but to serve and give his life as ransom for all who are willing to receive such benevolence. How can my suffering be of good to others even when it is a natural or inflicted suffering? No one who inflicts suffering and pain on others or to himself for the sake of suffering is contributing to good, but rather promotes evil. However, our suffering can help us see what others go through. Such understanding brings acceptance; acceptance brings patience; patience increases hope in the apparent despair.

Suffering and pain are often dreaded to the point that it could intimidate us; take advantage of our lives and our attitude to life. But we are called to face up to suffering and pain; not to go for it or wish that to anyone but to face it with courage when it comes. The pain of suffering and the weariness of the human frailty can not be trivialised. Jesus did face his passion and death with great pain. He asked his Father to let this cup of suffering pass him by if possible. But he knew it was for this he has come into the world. He has not come to suffer and glorify suffering. He has come to save humanity from eternal suffering by offering us a better approach to the suffering of humanity; the way of self-sacrifice. By this self-sacrifice we understand the sufferings of others and support them. While on earth, Jesus made both silent and loud cry as a petition to his Father. By this very act, he invites us to offer our suffering and that of others as prayerful sacrifice to God. Indeed, sometimes, our pain and suffering may not make meanings to us or to those around us; but understood by those who go through what we go through and those who have been through what we have been through. But above all understood by God who knows every little pain in our minds and bodies.

By the cross of Christ, we learn the true meaning of loss and gain; knowing that to gain we must lose something. To become a better new self we must have to lose the old self; to make a new covenant or commitment to God the Old has to give way to the New; God’s law becomes his love written in our hearts. We count as loss all that gives us a temporal pleasure and long term suffering; embracing the temporal discomfort that leads us to gain life in its fullness. Nothing good comes so easy. Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground it remains a single grain. But if it falls and dies, it bears much fruit, fruit that will beget more fruits in eternal cycle. This is what eternity is all about, the victory of goodness over evil; In faith, through the self-sacrifice of charity, we journey with Christ in hope towards the day of Resurrection.

The Cross of Christ is the greatest sign of contradiction in human history. When you look at the cross, what do you see? Emptiness, pain, betrayal, sadness, sorrow, agony, misery and shame? Or comfort, trust, sacrifice, love, embrace, victory, triumph? It is one reality that could be seen in different perspectives. The understanding of suffering and pain by those who possess the gift of faith should be different from those who do not. Again, I repeat, the Cross of Christ is the greatest sign of contradiction in human history.

The readings of this Sunday present us with great contradictions of all time: Love and hatred, good and evil, life and death, destruction and restoration, condemnation and justification, light and darkness, exile and homecoming, grace and vulnerability.

With that short historical account of the Second Book of Chronicles concerning the destruction of Jerusalem followed by the exile of the people, the first impression in this passage is to classify this as one of the tragic stories of the ancient writings. But that is not the point. It is about the subsequent restoration of Jerusalem during the reign of Cyrus of Persia. The Temple was rebuilt, the people came back from exile, Zion was once again a place to call home. This is the point of our Christian belief. It is not about the cross and death; it is about resurrection. It is not about sin and death; it is about life and grace.

Take a look at Psalm 136 (137); it could be a song of joy or sadness. It depends from whose perspective it is viewed. As for the people of ancient Israel, it is a song of freedom; a song of liberation expressing the joy of salvation. “By the Rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept, remembering Zion, on the poplars that grew there, we hung up our harps.” The psalmist goes on to say, “It was there that they asked us, our captors for songs, our oppressors for joy, sing to us they said, one of Zion’s songs”. It is normal to remember the past with its challenges. But we don’t dwell in the past. We live in the present looking forward to the future in hope.

We are not necessarily defined by our past. We define the present and the future. We are not victims of anti-Semitism, we are survivors. We are not victims of Black History and slavery, we are survivors. We are not victims of brutal political regimes, we are survivors. We are not victims of domestic and sexual abuses, we are survivors. We are more than conquerors because of He that loves us. It is this love that John repeatedly affirms in his gospel: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him will have life eternal.” (Jn 3:16) St Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians acknowledges the unquantifiable nature of this love. It is that grace that is unmerited. The amazing grace which has brought us thus far; and after the exile of this barren land, will lead us safely to our homeland, the heavenly Jerusalem. “If I forget you Jerusalem; if I prize you not Jerusalem, above all my joys!”

This Third Sunday of Lent has the theme of man’s sin and God’s forgiveness. A secularist would find problem with the idea of ‘sin’ but wouldn’t necessarily worry too much about the idea of social offences and crimes against fellow humans or cruelty to animals and the environment. Such offences and crimes are what the sacred institutions call sin. We often say the same thing in different languages. It does not matter so much what it is called; the idea is that humans should be obliged to act with justice and fairness, ensuring that the rights of others are never infringed upon. Whatever is held valuable has got in it a sense of sacredness. To violate this is, often, to offend God and/or the sensitivity of others. These are the basic teachings of Christianity, outlined in its laws and doctrines, summarised in the love of God and neighbour.

Magna Carta, of which Lord Denning once described as “the greatest constitutional document of all times – the foundation of the freedom of the individual against the arbitrary authority of the despot” marked its 800^th anniversary this year, 2015. This Great Charter, is widely cited for inspiring values of many societies over the centuries. But such masterpiece of social, economic and political ethics has primarily been inspired by Christian values over the centuries. Religion has been, and can still be, a force for good in human relationship.

The first reading today talks about the ten commandments, that body of laws that often sounds like a huge mountain to surmount. But these commandments are common norms of life which rule our hearts and consciences. Let’s take a look again at the book of Exodus today. This passage, the ten commandments, is divided into two parts. The first three is about God and the last seven is about our fellow humans and their belongings. The numbers 3 and 7 are symbolic numbers in the Hebrew bible as well as the New Testament. Three times Jesus would ask Peter, “Do you love me?” (Jn 21:17) Also, “Seventy Seven times” Jesus would reply Peter about the need to forgive your neighbour very often. (Matt 18:22) That’s what God’s law is about: the reality of human shortcoming, love and forgiveness.

In the gospel the humanity of Jesus clashes with that of his fellow humans. The people give offence, while Jesus takes offence. The people provoke, while Jesus reacts. It is typical of the God-Human drama: man offends God and he reacts and corrects man. This happens in the temple, a symbol of the place of encounter between humans and the divine. Being fully human and fully divine, where does Jesus lean more in this clash? Humanity and its secular inclination or divinity and its sacred affinity? He was clear about his position – my Father’s house shall be a spiritual house – a house of prayer, not a market place.

His Father’s house, the temple, is actually his own body. He gives them a sign by challenging them to go ahead and destroy this body and ‘in three days I will raise it up’. This prefigures his death and resurrection. The difference between Jesus’ body and ours is the Spirit in him capable of raising his own body and ours as well. In this lies his power and authority to turn things upside down in the temple of encounter with humans. This is both the miracles the Jews demand and the wisdom the Greeks seek; summarised in the cross and resurrection of Jesus.

What would you make of the story of Abraham attempting to sacrifice his only son, Isaac? Reactions and interpretations to this may vary. Some may see it as a sign of loyalty, commitment and sacrifice. Others may see this as horror, inhuman and selfishness. Whatever our reactions to this may be, it is easier to sound like modern experts in humanity, who could easily see what the people of old never saw. A common temptation of our modern time is anachronism; judging the past with the present standard, with little or no consideration of the difference in time, space and context.

However, the traditional understanding of this passage is God testing the faith of Abraham. There is nothing wrong in a caring Father testing the strength and quality of trust his child has in him. It is a costly ‘joke’ or test, one might say. What if it goes wrong? This is the point of the message: God does not test us beyond our limits. His testing is never for the sake of test or trials; they are meant to teach us. Every experience is meant to teach us something for which our lives will never be the same again. And it never goes wrong with God’s plans, especially for those who follow God’s paths and purposes, “listening” to him every moment.

Abraham was a typical good man whose only concern was to please God. There are many men and women of good will, who would do anything to maintain a good relationship with God and their neighbour. Some are guided by religious principles, while others are guided by their consciences. Sometimes, we could be so convinced of what God wants of us. However, listening to God could make a great deal of difference. A vital point in this passage, which is often sadly missed, is Abraham’s openness and his willingness to listen to God who tells him to change his mind-set. Do not lay your hand on that child. “Do not harm him”. There is a lamb of sacrifice instead. The difference between a fanatic and an proper adherent of any values is found in a healthy/unhealthy balance of emotion and reason. This passage shows the relationship between God and man, which improves with a better understanding of God’s will in time and context.

On the mountain, where Jesus is transfigured in the presence of Peter, James and John, the understanding of sacrifice changes from the use of animal. It becomes a self-sacrifice. God does not take pleasure in the blood of any human or animal. “You do not ask for holocaust or victim, sacrifice or offering, instead, hear I am.” The most pleasing sacrifice to God is not sacrificing others as scape-goats but offering self-sacrifice for the common good. Jesus did that for us; suffering and dying for a good cause that we might die no more but live forever as men and women of resurrection.

As Elijah and Moses appeared, a voice spoke from the heavens, “This is my Son, the beloved, listen to him.” Our primary call as humans is probably to listen always. We should listen more than we speak or act. As Christians we are constantly invited to listen to Jesus who is the summary of the Law and the Prophets. Listening to the Word becomes a spiritual experience and encounter; that which could transform us as it did for the disciples, making Peter to suggest that they pitch tents there – this is where I want to be, in God’s presence.

However, we are not people who only listen, experience, and remain where we are. We need to step down from the lofty mountains of our experiences to the plains. That is where we are needed to share our experiences with those who yearn for it. This experience of the good news is what St Paul preaches with passion to the Romans – the love of God which means more than the world to us. This love transfigures Jesus for us and transforms us who listen and follow his ways.

Lent is the moment of mercy and compassion. It is the time when selfishness gives way to sacrifice and works of charity. The Hebrew people would always appeal to the mercy and compassion of God. Often, to do this, they would remind God of his covenant with his chosen people; especially the covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. This covenant depicts God’s steadfastness and his kind gesture to reach out to his people in love and kindness; constantly calling his people back to his loving and forgiving arms. It is remarkable that the covenant God has made with Noah and his descendants includes every living creature on earth. ‘There shall be no flood to destroy the earth again…The waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all things of flesh.’ God cares for the earth he has made. This could inspire the global recent commitment to care for our environment. The Hebrew interpretation of the great flood in Noah’s time was that of punishment from God. In our time we do know better that such natural disaster could be linked to the attitude of humans to our environment. Therefore, God invites us to make a covenant/commitment to protect our environment so that it does not destroy us.

St Paul understands this flood, not necessarily as a punishment for many but more importantly as a means by which some were saved ‘by water’. ‘That water’ he says, ‘is a type of the baptism which saves you now, and which is not the washing off of physical dirt but a pledge made to God from a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, who has entered heaven and is at God’s right hand, now that he has made the angels of the Dominations and Powers his subjects.’ It is important for St Paul to remind us of the cleansing waters of baptism at which we made a covenant with God in good conscience. It is not a covenant of fear but that into which we have freely entered.

In the gospel of Mark, ‘the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness and he remained there for forty days, and he was tempted by Satan.’ In our forty days of the season of lent, we journey with Christ in his temptation and his fast in the desert. Jesus’ temptation was based on what was lacking in such a wild desert. We may not be in some wild desert but our temptation in villages, towns and cities today may be that we have too much than we actually need.  He was tempted by ‘satana’; that ‘hindrance and obstacle’ of life that is capable of distracting one from his mission. The tempter lures us away from our promises and the covenant we have made with God. Jesus was surrounded by overpowering wild beasts but, most importantly, the angel of the Lord looked after him. God is always there to play his own role in the covenant. He is always there even in the most difficult situations and trials of our lives; as the psalmist says, ‘Your ways, Lord, are faithfulness and love for those who keep your covenant.’ After the ‘obstacle’ has been overcome by Jesus, he moved on to continue with his mission which was so clear in his proclamation of the good news: God reigns, his kingdom is close at hand, come back all who have gone astray. Be gathered back again to the assembly of the people of covenant.

An important messages of lent remains – a homecoming; a time to amend the broken promises and reconcile with God who is full of mercy and compassion. It is a time of reconciliation with God, with our neighbour and with our environment. Let every fasting, prayer and abstinence, be a step closer to God, fostering one harmony of humanity and nature.

The Lord God, in the book of Leviticus, instructs Moses and Aaron that anyone who is suspected of leprosy must go and show himself to the priest. Then the man, if diagnosed of skin leprosy, becomes unclean and must henceforth live outside the camp.

In the gospel of Mark, a leper came to Jesus and pleaded on his knees: ‘If you want to’ he said ‘you can cure me’. By this gesture, Jesus is depicted, not just as any other priest of old but the ideal high priest who identifies completely with the human suffering. The priests in Leviticus would pronounce the leper unclean and ensure that he is excluded from the community in order to not infect others. Jesus does not contradict the work of the priests according to the requirements of the law but fulfils such laws by taking it further. What has Jesus done differently or better in this situation?

1. He felt pity for this man. Without pity, compassion and mercy there is no charity and love. Without charity and love, the law serves itself and not the human person.
2. Jesus stretched out his hand. Stretching out means reaching out. We could have a hand as powerful as to save others but may lack the goodwill to stretch it. Jesus invites us to stretch out our hands and reach out to those in need. Such is the saving hand of God which can work through us, in us and with us for our salvation and that of others.
3. He touched the leper. Touching the leper has a high risk of being infected. But Jesus touched him, anyway. Don’t we take precautions when faced with infectious diseases, even in situations when we need no fear? We do fear and take precautions, anyway. This may remind us about Jesus’ saying that he who preserves his life will lose it and he who loses his life for my sake will find it. Of course, this should be understood in the right context of faith and reason. Also, a sense of touch is so powerful in healing. It may be the only thing the sick need – just a touch from someone who really loves and cares.
4. Jesus declares healing to the leper – ‘Be cured!’
5. Jesus sends him back to the community through the priest in fulfillment of the prescripts of the law. This is why Jesus has come; to ensure that those who have been excluded or those who have excluded themselves from the community even for the reasons of sin or offences may be reconciled and reunited back.

Jesus’ compassion and mercy; his gesture of acceptance; his human and spiritual touch; his declaration of healing and freedom to the sick and oppressed reminds us of those healing words of absolution spoken by the priest at the Sacrament of Reconciliation:

‘God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God grant you pardon and peace; and I absolve you from your sins – in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.’

I never gave this any thought until my mother once taught me and my family how to make a humble reference to the future as she would always tell us: “Whenever you say what you want to do in future, always add, ‘Please God’”. It did make more sense when I read a similar comment, “If you want to make God laugh tell him about your plans”.

It is a world in constant motion, yet every now and again, we discover that even with the speed of the motion, we have not moved that far from where we were. Amazingly, we dash off in the morning, go to bed at the night with a huge presumption that we will dash off again the next day in the spirit of ‘business as usual’. An average person goes to bed every night presuming they will wake up in the morning. If this is a positive thinking, it is highly commendable. But if it a mere nonchallant attitude to life, it calls for a reflection.

But life itself has a way of making us to stop and think. What life throws at us could draw our attention to what we can easily overlook. The pain of being human can remind us of the joy of being human which could easily be taken for granted.

Job is not a very happy man. But he had seen good old days. As for this moment he expresses pain, sadness and despair. For some people, Job’s experience is very real. The very ill, the sick, the lonely, the unloved, the depressed and those who suffer from terminal illness may be tempted to sound like Job or give in to despair. If only Job (human suffering) had the opportunity of meeting Christ, just as Simon’s mother in-law did, he wouldnt have described his life as ‘swifter than a weaver’s shuttle…leaving no hope behind”. As for Simon’s mother in-law, having been told of her fever, Jesus went straight to her house, held her by the hand and lifted her up. This is the difference it makes when Christ is invited into the suffering of humanity; one is uplifted from despair. The pain of being human may not be taken away completely but the upliftment and comfort of Christ makes all the difference.

This is the goodnews we bring to those who suffer physical, emotional or mental agony. This is what drives St Paul in his passion for mission – being all things to all people; being there for anyone in any situation. Of course, people do ask, “why should I suffer”? “Is there any value in suffering”? But there are common questions which are often not voiced out: “Am I alone in this suffering”? “Is there anyone who cares”?