The BIBLE says the age difference between couples is a sin….
For our sake, Christ was made to carry the weight of sin, as the Apostle Paul reminds us when he writes that the Father placed upon His Son the burden of our failings and transgressions. This act is so profound that Pope Benedict XVI once described it as God turning against Himself, an unfathomable mystery that reveals the depth of divine love. It is not a love that chooses only the faithful or the obedient, but one that extends even to His enemies, reaching out to those who resist Him, reject Him, or live in ways contrary to His commandments. Christ’s sacrifice shows us a love that does not limit itself to those who are deserving but pours itself out for every human being, whether near or far, whether friend or foe.
When we speak of this love, we must be careful not to reduce it to mere words or shallow conversation. God does not call us into an exchange of idle chatter, like the Athenians of old who enjoyed nothing more than gathering to hear and share new ideas without depth or consequence. Their curiosity was often shallow, their words empty, their attention caught by novelty rather than truth. This same kind of trivial conversation continues to exist in our time, often made worse by the way modern media is misused. Platforms that could be tools for genuine connection and learning are instead filled with noise, distraction, and superficiality. In this endless stream of opinions and arguments, it becomes harder to listen to the still, quiet voice of God, who does not speak for entertainment but calls each of us into a life-changing dialogue.
God seeks something deeper. Through the mystery of the cross and the resurrection, He invites every soul into a conversation that is not fleeting but eternal. The paschal mystery is not a story told to amuse or entertain. It is a reality that transforms, demanding not only our attention but our very lives. When we place this mystery at the heart of our existence, it is impossible not to feel compassion for the suffering Christ, whose agony is mirrored in the world around us.
The crucified Christ is reflected in countless victims today. He is present in the children torn from life before they have even seen the light of day, in the elderly abandoned and left alone, in those suffering from war and violence, and in all who endure injustice or oppression. He is visible in the refugee struggling to survive, in the woman exploited through trafficking, in the worker treated as a tool rather than a person, and in the communities crushed by greed. Even the earth itself, our common home, suffers wounds inflicted by careless hands. Forests are destroyed, oceans are polluted, and the climate is disrupted, causing suffering to the most vulnerable. In all these sorrows, the image of the crucified Christ appears again and again, reminding us that His passion did not end on Calvary but continues in the pain of humanity and creation itself.
To recognize this is to understand that our faith cannot remain closed in on itself. We cannot be Christians only in words or rituals while ignoring the cries of those who suffer. Love, if it is real, must move outward. It must be shared. The gifts we have received—whether wealth, time, knowledge, or talents—are not treasures to be stored away in private vaults. They are blessings meant for the benefit of all. When we hoard what has been given to us, we diminish our humanity, shrinking our hearts until we are trapped in our own selfishness. But when we give generously, we grow, becoming more fully human and more like Christ.
This is why acts of charity are not optional ornaments of faith but essential expressions of it. A simple gesture of almsgiving, when done with love, is a sign of God’s presence in the world. It brings light to the darkness of need and offers hope where despair seems strongest. Yet giving must not remain only at the level of individual acts. We are called also to look at the deeper structures of our societies and economies. Too often, systems are built on inequality, rewarding the few while leaving the many behind. The pursuit of profit becomes an idol, worshiped at the expense of justice and compassion. When money and gain are placed above human dignity, the world suffers.
For this reason, there is a need to encourage people of goodwill to join together, to build something new, something more just and inclusive. This year, from March 26 to 28, I have invited young economists, entrepreneurs, and innovators to gather in Assisi. The choice of this place is no accident, for Assisi is the home of Saint Francis, the saint of simplicity, humility, and fraternity. In his footsteps, we seek to imagine and create an economy that is not driven only by profit but by service, not by greed but by generosity, not by exclusion but by participation. The goal is not utopia, but a concrete effort to shape systems that reflect the dignity of every human person.
This vision is not new. The Church has always taught that charity is not confined to private gestures but must also influence politics and society. To engage politically, to work for laws and structures that protect the weak and promote justice, is a profound form of love. Pope Pius XI once reminded the faithful that political involvement is a true expression of charity. When we advocate for policies that ensure fair wages, protect creation, defend the vulnerable, and encourage solidarity, we are not stepping outside the realm of faith but living it in one of its most essential dimensions.
Such work requires courage, for it is often easier to remain silent or passive, to care only for oneself and one’s family, or to treat faith as something private and disconnected from the world. But the paschal mystery will not allow this. Christ’s death and resurrection call us out of indifference and into engagement. They challenge us to move beyond comfort and self-preservation, to carry the burdens of others, and to be instruments of God’s reconciliation.
Reconciliation is at the very heart of Lent. It is a time when we are invited to return to God with honest hearts, to allow His mercy to heal us, and to renew our lives. But reconciliation is not limited to the relationship between God and the individual. It also extends to our relationships with others, with society, and with creation itself. When we are reconciled with God, we cannot continue to live in division with our brothers and sisters. To be reconciled means to forgive, to share, to repair, and to build peace.
Mary, the Mother of Jesus, stands as our guide in this journey. She is the one who opened her heart completely to God’s plan, who carried His Word within her, and who remained faithful even at the foot of the cross. She knows what it means to say “yes” to God with all one’s being, and she intercedes for us so that we too may have the courage to respond to His call. Through her prayers, we ask that this Lent may soften our hearts, breaking down the walls of selfishness and pride that keep us distant from God and from one another.
When we allow ourselves to be transformed in this way, we begin to live as true disciples. Christ called His followers to be the salt of the earth, giving flavor and preserving what is good, and the light of the world, shining in the darkness so that others may see and glorify the Father. These are not poetic images meant to remain in books or sermons. They are real descriptions of what we are meant to be. To be salt is to prevent the decay of indifference and corruption. To be light is to bring hope and direction where confusion reigns. Both require us to live not for ourselves but for others.
This is the invitation of Lent, and it is the invitation of the Christian life as a whole. It is a call to enter into the mystery of Christ’s suffering and resurrection, to let His love change us, and to become instruments of that same love in the world. The path is not easy. It asks us to confront our own sin, to resist the temptation of selfishness, and to bear the burdens of others. But it is a path filled with meaning, a path that leads to life in its fullness.
When we meditate on Christ carrying the cross, we see not only His suffering but also the hope it brings. Each step He took was for us, for our healing, for our reconciliation. When we choose to carry the crosses of others—their pain, their needs, their struggles—we participate in that same hope. We become co-workers in God’s great plan of salvation, spreading His mercy into the corners of the world where it is most needed.
This is why Lent cannot be a time of mere external practices. Fasting, prayer, and almsgiving are not rituals to be performed mechanically but tools to open us to God’s grace. Fasting teaches us detachment, prayer deepens our relationship with the Lord, and almsgiving teaches us generosity. Together, they help us turn away from selfishness and toward love. But they achieve their purpose only if we allow them to change our hearts, leading us into a true encounter with God and with others.
In this season, every gesture, no matter how small, can become an act of great significance. A word of kindness, a moment of listening, an act of forgiveness, or a gift to someone in need can shine with eternal value when done in the spirit of Christ. We may not be able to change the whole world by ourselves, but we can transform the part of the world that is entrusted to us. And when many hearts are transformed, society itself begins to change.
The paschal mystery teaches us that life comes through death, that victory comes through apparent defeat, and that love is stronger than sin. This is not only the story of Christ but also the pattern of every Christian life. When we embrace the cross—whether it comes in the form of personal suffering, service to others, or the struggle for justice—we share in the resurrection. We discover that even in the darkest places, God’s light shines.
In the end, the journey of Lent and the message of the cross come down to one simple truth: we are loved beyond measure, and we are called to share that love. Christ bore our sins not so that we could remain as we are but so that we might be transformed, reconciled, and renewed. His gift is not a treasure to be hoarded but a wealth to be shared. And when we share it—through charity, justice, forgiveness, and compassion—we become what we are meant to be: the living presence of Christ in the world, salt for the earth, and light for all who dwell in darkness.
