Divine Mercy Sunday / Pope Francis (2025-04-27)

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[v.3]   Homily – April 27, 2025 /  2^nd Sunday Easter●●●●    

 [__01_]  **Homily and Prayer for the Eternal Rest of Pope Francis**

When someone dies, we often measure the value of their life in terms of spatial dimensions: the width—how widely the person was known—and the depth—how profoundly complex they were and how difficult it will be to replace them. We often look at the number of people at the funeral, the size of the crowd, the breadth of their influence.

 

These dimensions certainly apply to Pope Francis, our Holy Father, the Bishop of Rome. They apply as well to other world leaders with wide and deep legacies—such as Queen Elizabeth II, whose passing drew thousands in long lines to pay their respects, or the deaths of presidents and prime ministers who leave behind both mourning and succession. In the case of a pope, the Church officially observes a mourning period of fifteen days from his death to the opening of the conclave, a moment where human minds begin to think about moving forward.

 

But is that truly what is happening? Our human, broken condition pushes us to "replace" those we lose—either with material comforts or by trying to find someone else to fill the void. It’s an understandable impulse: life must go on. Yet if we only view death in material terms, we miss something essential. Death is not just the breakdown of the body; it is an acknowledgment that life is more than the body. The soul and body, both created by God, are united.

 

In today’s Gospel, Thomas the Apostle (John ch. 20) is focused on the material evidence, DNA evidence for Jesus’ resurrection. Sensing that this “sense data” is missing, Thomas announces: “I’m out – I will not believe.”

 

I would be lying if I said that I always can see the spiritual – deeper – nature of life and death. I can be like Thomas. Can you be this way? Not long ago, just before Palm Sunday, I learned of the death of the elder brother of a childhood friend. He was only a few years older than I am. I knew him and his family well. I rearranged my schedule to attend the funeral—not only to offer condolences, but if I am honest, because I knew there would be a large crowd of people I recognized, friends from my youth.

 

I went to the funeral Mass, which was peaceful and prayerful. It was a comfort to know that the pastor and music director were taking care of everything; I was simply part of the crowd. Yet as the day went on, I realized I was not truly needed at the repast. I excused myself and withdrew from the crowd, finding time for quiet prayer during Holy Week—a small personal retreat, away from the noise.

 

In times of mourning, we are tempted to fill the silence with words, laughter, and memories. Storytelling and nostalgia do have their place in building community and healing. Yet if our sorrow runs deep, we recognize that no story or event can bring a person back. No election or ceremony can replace a beloved soul.

 

Catholic mourning is not about drafting a replacement; it is about meditating on the promise of eternal reunion. Christians of many traditions recognize this truth. C.S. Lewis, from his Protestant perspective, once wrote, "Of course I pray for the dead. This action is spontaneous. It is inevitable." He noted that many of the people he loved best were already dead—and if they were unmentionable to God, what sort of faith would he have?

 

Thus we gather to pray, fast, and sacrifice—not because of past achievements, but because of the hope we share: the hope of everlasting life. It is part of our fallen human nature to create a false permanence out of what is fragile and temporary. But real existence endures because it is not material.

 

The dignity of each person endures because it is not man-made. Real love lasts forever; it cannot be bought or sold, only stored up in heaven.

 

One of the many stories circulating about Pope Francis involves something that happened immediately after his election in 2013. You would think that, after being declared the Bishop of Rome and leader of over a billion Catholics, a small matter like a hotel bill would be forgotten. But not for Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio.

 

On the day after his election, he asked his driver to take him back to the boarding house where he had been staying. There, he picked up his luggage—and paid his bill. He greeted the staff personally and settled the account, wanting to set a good example for bishops and priests. Though someone told him it was no longer necessary—the place now "belonged" to him—Pope Francis insisted. This simple act reflected his long-held commitment to humility, simplicity, and responsibility.

 

Pope Francis’s death reminds us of redemption. Jesus Himself came to pay a debt—our debt—by giving up His life for our salvation. Pope Francis’s leadership teaches us that faith is not merely about rules or rituals, but about a living relationship with Christ, who still offers us His mercy today.

 

Francis often spoke of going to the margins, reaching out to the wounded and the poor. He described the Church as a field hospital, a place of healing and mercy. He emphasized closeness: closeness to God, to the poor, to one another, and especially to the elderly and fragile.

 

In one memorable Holy Thursday, Pope Francis washed the feet of young people at a juvenile detention center—showing that leadership is service, not domination. His death calls us not only to pray for his soul, but also to pray for the future of the Church: to make room for new leadership, new movements of the Spirit, and a new rising of faith.

 

Saint Paul reminds us to "get rid of the old yeast," the pride, resentment, and self-centeredness that puff up our souls. We are called to repent—not as punishment, but as liberation. True leadership sees others as equals; without that, authority becomes tyranny.

 

Just as the first disciples left behind their fishing nets, we are called to leave behind attachments, routines, and comfort zones to follow Christ—even without knowing where the path will lead.

 

Pope Francis helped lead our generation. Now it is our turn to help the next. We are called to teach the faith, to witness to Christ, to open the door for others to encounter Jesus personally.

 

Pope Francis’s passing, like every death, invites us to do a spring cleaning of our souls. As we pray in Psalm 51, "Create in me a clean heart, O God."

 

May that be our prayer: to open ourselves to grace, to trust in Divine Mercy, and to say with faith, "Jesus, I trust in You."

And for the sake of your sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world. 

We pray for Pope Francis, and for all the faithful departed: Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

Mass for Pope Francis (2025-04-26, Saturday 8:30 am)

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 [v.1]   Homily –  April 26, 2025 /  Saturday in octave of Easter  / Pope Francis  ●●●●    

 One of the biographical stories about Pope Francis that has been circulating recently is something that happened when he was elected pope in the Papal Conclave of 2013.

From Time Magazine:  You’d think after being declared Bishop of Rome and leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Roman Catholics that a little something like [your] hotel bill might escape notice.

But not for the former Argentinian Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, who swung by a Church-run boardinghouse on March 14, 2013 -  the day after he was introduced as Pope Francis to cheering Vatican City crowd numbering in the tens of thousands — to pick up his tab, reports Reuters.

The pope apparently asked his driver to circle back to the Domus Internationalis Paulus VI — an “historic Palazzo located in the ancient center of Rome” — where he’d been staying in the lead-up to the Congress of Cardinals that ultimately elected him as Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI’s successor.

He’d left his luggage [suitcase] there, which was part of his reason for returning, but the Vatican says he then chose to swing by the front desk, say hello to the staff and pay his bill “because he was concerned about giving a good example of what priests and bishops should do.” (It’s not clear how much he paid, but “complete pension” rates at the Paulus VI are €85 Euro, or about $110 per night.)

This surprised fellow boardinghouse occupant Father Pawel Rytel-Andrianik, who told Reuters, “I don’t think he needs to worry about the bill” because “[the] house is part of the Church, and it’s his Church now.”

But the Vatican says it’s all in keeping with Francis’ reputation for frugality — as Archbishop of Buenos Aires, he reportedly rode the bus, cooked his own meals and preferred a humble apartment to the palatial Archbishop’s residence. 

(https://newsfeed.time.com/2013/03/14/pope-francis-circles-back-to-hotel-to-pay-bill/)

Pope Francis's passing invites us to reflect on redemption: that Jesus, too, came to pay a bill—our bill. He gave up his life for our sinfulness. Pope Francis’s leadership reminds us that faith is not merely about rules or rituals but about a living relationship with Jesus, who is still paying the bill for us, still inviting us to accept his mercy.

Pope Francis often emphasized going out to the peripheries, reaching those on the margins. He described the Church as a "field hospital" for wounded souls—a place of healing where we kneel before God in humility. One of his most repeated themes was *closeness*: closeness to God, closeness to the poor, and closeness to one another.

 

In one of his early Holy Thursday Masses, he went to a juvenile correctional facility to wash the feet of young people imprisoned for criminal activity. His passing, therefore, calls us not only to pray for his eternal rest but also to pray for the future of the Church. We are invited to make room in our hearts for new leadership, for new movements of the Holy Spirit, and for a fresh "yeast" in the Church.

 

As St. Paul says, “Get rid of the old yeast, that you may be a new batch without yeast—as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed.” We are meant to be the unleavened bread in the world: pure, simple, and ready to serve.

 

In order to lead—or even simply to serve someone else—we must recognize that the people we serve are our equals. Authority, properly understood, implies equality. If we fail to see others as equals, we risk becoming slave masters or dictators rather than true servants. True leadership, therefore, leads to true growth. As adults in the faith, we are called to go beyond the ordinary, just as the first disciples did when they left their fishing nets behind.

 

We may not literally leave our jobs or homes, but we are called to leave behind our attachments, our routines, and our comfort zones. Jesus does not always come with clear directions, with exact GPS coordinates telling us where we are headed. Rather, we are called to trust him even before we know where the journey will lead. We are called to be adult children of God—aware, responsible, and merciful—helping the next generation grow in faith.

 

Pope Francis helped our generation, and now we are called to help the next. We are called to teach the faith to children, to witness Christ to those around us—whether they attend church or not—and to open the door for others to encounter Christ personally through our lives. In a sense, his death invites us to do a “spring cleaning” of our souls.

 

As the 51st Psalm prays: “Create in me a clean heart, O God.” This must be the prayer of each one of us—the prayer of a soul trying to open itself to grace. On this Divine Mercy Sunday and always, may we say to Jesus, "Jesus, I trust in you."

 

May Pope Francis rest in the eternal peace of the Risen Christ. Amen.

Easter Vigil /Sunday (2025-04-20)

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 [v.4]   Homily – April 20, 2025 /  Easter Sunday

●●●●    _Seeing the Big Picture in the Easter Gospel (Luke 24:1–12)_

_01. Big Picture Thinking and the Disciples_

We don’t always naturally see the big picture. Our minds are trained to filter and prioritize only the most immediate and relevant information. It’s a survival skill, really—there’s simply too much information coming at us at any one time to take it all in. This is why things like caller ID are helpful—we can decide in advance which calls are worth taking and which can wait.

 

So it’s not always a bad thing to focus on what seems most immediate. But this limited perspective can cause us to miss something greater, something deeper. This is precisely what happened to Jesus’ disciples time and time again.

 

Take the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, for example—something we reflected on this past Holy Thursday. Over five thousand people were fed, and the disciples were amazed. It was a logistical miracle: everyone was satisfied, and it cost them nothing. But that wasn’t the whole story. The deeper truth—the big picture—is that Jesus was pointing toward something even more profound: His ongoing, multiplied presence among us in the Blessed Sacrament. God was not just providing bread for the day; He was foreshadowing the eternal nourishment of the Eucharist. God is in the details, but we often settle for what’s on the surface.

_02. The Empty Tomb: Unsatisfying or Astonishing?_

 

So now we come to the Easter Gospel. The disciples come to the tomb and find it empty. But instead of immediately rejoicing, they are confused, puzzled—even unsettled. Where is Jesus? Why is His body gone?

 

Luke tells us:

 

> “They found the stone rolled away from the tomb; but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were puzzling over this, behold, two men in dazzling garments appeared to them. They were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground. They said, ‘Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised. Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee…’” (Luke 24:2–7)

 

The angelic message is clear: They are looking in the wrong place. Jesus has risen, just as He promised.

 

_03. Covenant, Sacrifice, and a Different Kind of Victim_

 

On Holy Thursday and at every Mass, we remember that Jesus willingly gave Himself up. He wasn’t taken by surprise. He is the Lamb of God, silent before His accusers, as the prophet Isaiah described. But unlike most victims, Jesus chooses to suffer. He transforms victimhood into an act of supreme love.

 

His “victory” is not political or military. He doesn’t defeat Rome with an army or overthrow hate with more hate. He defeats death by embracing it and redeeming it through love. That’s how God’s kingdom works.

 

_04. Discipleship and Witnessing_

 

Not everyone follows Him, even after the Resurrection. And as disciples, we’re not asked to convince everyone either. Our role is to testify, to witness, to share God’s love—and to trust that seeds planted in love will bear fruit in God’s time.

 

Sometimes we ourselves are in the dark. I’ve been there—spiritually lost or unaware of what God truly wants from me. And sometimes, only through God’s grace, through the support of friends, neighbors, or even strangers, we can step into the light. No one can force us. We all have a right to be wrong.

 

The same applies to those we struggle with or try to help. Yes, we should fast and pray for them. But ultimately, they too have the freedom to choose, just like us. As the Divine Mercy prayer reminds us: *“Jesus, I trust in you… for the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.”*

 

_05. A Modern Parable: The Thai Cave Rescue_

 

In July 2018, a group of 12 boys and their soccer coach went exploring in a cave in Thailand. Unexpected flooding trapped them deep underground. For days, no one even knew where they were. But hope was sparked when rescuers found their bicycles parked outside the cave.

 

What followed was an extraordinary, international rescue effort. It took over two weeks of intense planning and execution—expert divers, Navy SEALs, and doctors all worked together to bring each boy and the coach out, one by one. They couldn’t rescue them as a group; each child had to be carried through the darkness individually.

 

This story mirrors the Easter message in a powerful way: from death to life, from darkness to light, from fear to hope. And like the boys in that cave, none of us can make the journey on our own. We need rescue. We need grace.

 

_06. Vulnerability and New Life_

 

The boys were vulnerable—not only to physical harm but to fear, anxiety, and despair. But their coach kept teaching them underground. He reminded them to meditate, to pray, and to trust. He helped them hold on until help arrived.

 

This is the Easter movement: out of darkness, into light. From fear to faith. From being trapped to being set free.

 

_07. The Resurrection: Gone, Yet Present_

 

At the empty tomb, the disciples are reminded that Jesus is not gone in the way they thought. Yes, His body is no longer in the tomb—but He is alive. He is risen. He is still with them.

 

Their initial desire was to honor His dead body. But Jesus had already become the Savior. He no longer needed saving—He was doing the saving. His Resurrection gives us hope, especially in the face of death. At a funeral Mass, we proclaim this truth: death is not the end. It is a passage to eternal life.

 

_08. The Big Picture of Mercy_

 

Every action of Jesus—healing, feeding, teaching—was a signpost toward the greatest miracle of all: mercy. Forgiveness is not just a cancellation of debt; it is a call to transformation.

 

In confession, we don’t just unload guilt—we step into new life. We reject the things that drag us down and choose what gives us real life. We stop “seeking the living among the dead.” That’s the Easter call.

 

Jesus wants us to find Him not in the tombs of regret or shallow pleasures, but in life-giving relationships, true prayer, and service to others. He invites us to love not only those who love us, but even those who cause us difficulty.

 

He gives us nourishment not only in bread, but in His risen Body. He offers us not just comfort, but a new life and a new relationship. He has not left us alone.

 

As the angel said: *“Remember what He told you… that the Son of Man must be handed over, be crucified, and rise on the third day.”*

 

Alleluia! He is Risen.

Holy Thursday (2025-04-17)

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 [v.6]   Homily –  April 17, 2025 /  Holy Thursday   ●  Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14 ● Psalm 116   ● 1 Corinthians 11:23-26   ● John 13:1-15 ● 

Title:   __Holy Thursday Homily: The Love That Redeems__

__01. Fulfillment of the Traditional Jewish Passover__ 

As we start these 3 days of Holy Thursday- Good Friday – Easter, we also read of the original Passover.

Jesus, our Rabbi and Teacher, sat at table with His disciples. But He is not just sharing a meal—He is preparing them for something much deeper. Like any good teacher, Jesus has a lesson plan, though His is not confined to words or theories. It is a lesson that stretches the minds and hearts of His followers, a lesson that is embodied in sacrifice, humility, and love.

Throughout their time with Jesus, the disciples struggled to grasp the full meaning of His message. Despite witnessing His miracles and hearing His parables and messages about sacrifice and being HUMBLE .. rather than being humbled themselves, they stumbled, especially when Jesus predicted His suffering and death. Peter resisted the notion of Jesus being arrested. All 12 quarreled over who was the greatest. James and John sought the most honored places in His kingdom. They heard His words but couldn’t quite understand their implications. They needed ongoing formation—continuing education—in the ways of humility and divine love. And honestly, do I not also need these lessons? Do you?

__02. Multiplication of the Loaves__ 

One event in Jesus’ ministry especially speaks to the meaning of this night: the multiplication of the loaves. On a hillside at twilight, Jesus faced a massive, hungry crowd. Over 5,000 people had followed Him, and now they needed to be fed. It was an impossible task by human standards. Jesus turns to Philip and asks, “Where can we buy enough food for them to eat?” Philip immediately starts doing the math. “Lord, even 200 days’ wages wouldn’t be enough,” he replies—probably with a tired look and a mental spreadsheet.

But Jesus wasn’t asking for a menu or a budget. He was inviting faith. He was preparing them for something greater. Just as He would provide for their physical hunger, He would one day nourish their souls. This miracle—the only one recorded in all 4 Gospels—was not just about bread and fish. It pointed ahead to the Eucharist, the spiritual food that would sustain His followers through every trial. God provides. He always has.

__03. Ancient Passover in Egypt__ 

We hear tonight in the first reading about the first Passover. The Hebrew people were enslaved in Egypt, and God gave them a way out. Through Moses, He instructed them to prepare a meal and be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. The word *Exodus* means “exit,” and this was their great escape. But it was also a journey of faith and obedience.

God not only wanted to save individuals, but an entire people, a family. And to this day, we continue this family journey. In our worship, our fasting, our prayer—even our support of the parish—we are called to build a community of mercy. We prepare this table not just for ourselves, but for those who will come in after us, just as others did before us.

__04. The Passover Lamb and Community__ 

The original Passover required the sacrifice of a lamb. Its blood marked the homes of the faithful so that the angel of death would pass over them. The lamb provided nourishment for the journey ahead, and it sanctified the people. Notably, if someone couldn’t afford a lamb or didn’t have enough people to eat one, they were to join another family. It was always a shared act, never isolated. Salvation was communal.

The lamb symbolized both protection and sustenance. It was offered by the people, but it was also the victim. It gave life to others through its sacrifice. That image of Lamb connected to God’s covenant is fulfilled in Jesus.

__05. Jesus as Priest and Victim__ 

At the Last Supper, Jesus becomes the new Passover Lamb. He institutes the Eucharist, ordains His disciples to carry out this sacred act, and establishes a covenant that is both sustainable and eternal. He is the priest offering the sacrifice—and He is the sacrifice itself.

Unlike the lambs of old or modern-day victims who suffer unexpectedly, Jesus chooses His suffering. He knows what awaits Him and accepts it out of love. In this,

          He redefines vulnerability. In a world filled with illness, injustice, war, and hardship, Jesus shows us that vulnerability can be powerful. It can be redemptive. As He once said in the Beatitudes: “Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you… Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.” (Mt 5:11–12)

The first Sermon on the Mount taught us how to live; Calvary is His second “sermon on the mount,” where Jesus teaches us how to die—with forgiveness on His lips and love in His heart: “Today you will be with me in paradise,” He tells the thief. And to those crucifying Him, He prays: “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do.”

__06. Love and Suffering: Washing of Feet__ 

Tonight, we witness one of Jesus’ most tender acts: He kneels before His disciples and washes their feet. This wasn’t just an act of kindness—it was a command: “As I have done for you, so you also should do.” (Jn 13:15)

In this command, Jesus multiplies Himself through us. Every time we serve one another in humility, we carry out His mission. Every time we forgive, especially when it’s hard, we echo His love. Love and suffering are mysteriously connected. Love gives suffering meaning, and suffering, when endured with love, becomes redemptive.

Is there someone you find hard to love? Someone you struggle to forgive? Let tonight be a turning point. Suffering without love is just pain. But love that embraces suffering brings transformation.

Love, as Jesus told Martha and Mary, is the one thing necessary.

 __07. United in Sacrifice and Joy__ 

St. Augustine, in his reflections on Christ’s Passion, reminded the faithful that while Jesus laid down His life voluntarily, we do not choose the length or terms of our lives. Still, because of His sacrifice, we can face suffering with hope. Augustine writes, “No martyr by shedding his blood brings forgiveness of sins. Jesus gave us not a reason to suffer, but a reason to rejoice in our suffering.”

 That is what this night means. We gather not only for a Mass at 7 PM on Holy Thursday. We enter an eternal mystery—one that connects us to all the saints and angels who now rejoice in heaven. At every Mass, we join in their song:

__Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.__ 

__Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.__ 

__Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace.__

Palm Sunday (2025-04-13)

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 [v.1]   Homily –  April 13, 2025 /  Palm Sunday  ● Passion Gospel of Luke ●  ●  ● 

Title:     [__01_]   Welcome to Our Lady of Lourdes … as we enter into Holy Week, we reflect on the journey of our Lord toward His Passion. This journey is not just about Jesus; it is about us as well. It is about our struggles, our sufferings, and our hope in God. Today, I want to share a story about a family member, someone in my extended family who is facing a serious illness. He feels well physically and mentally now, but the future is uncertain. Recently, he asked me a question that many of us have probably asked ourselves at some point:

Turning to God in Our Need

He said, "I have lived a pretty good life, but I haven't always been serious about going to church or my Catholic faith.    Now, in my hour of need, I turn to God. What kind of Christian or Catholic does that make me?"

It is a humbling question,  that he didn’t necessarily expect me to to have an answer for….

Have you ever asked yourself a similar question?

It reminds me of 2 Gospel readings we have recently encountered: the Parable of the Prodigal Son and the story of the woman caught in adultery.

The Prodigal Son and the Woman Caught in Adultery

The Prodigal Son only returns home in humility after he has lost everything. If he had been more disciplined, perhaps he would not have found himself in such dire straits. Likewise, the woman caught in adultery found herself in a desperate situation, facing immediate punishment while the man involved seemingly escaped justice. Both of these individuals turned to God in their hour of need. But in doing so, they also entered into a new relationship—not only with God but with themselves. They came to understand their own dignity and worth, not because of their past failures or successes, but because they were beloved children of God.

 The Reality of Limited Time

The Prodigal Son’s empty bank account and the woman's criminal charges symbolize something we all experience—limited time and resources. Whether we are facing illness, financial struggles, or personal uncertainty, none of us can escape the reality that life is fleeting. Even Jesus, in His human nature, experienced this limitation. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He prayed, "Father, if it is your will, let this cup pass from me. But not my will, but Thine be done."

Following Christ in Sacrifice

As Catholics, we are called to follow Jesus, to live out our baptism, which is a dying and rising to new life each day. Of course, we all wish to avoid suffering—"Let this cup pass from me"—but true discipleship means embracing our cross. This is the sacrifice we bring to the altar at every Mass. When the priest says, "Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God, the Almighty Father," we respond together, acknowledging that our lives, our struggles, and our hopes are all part of this great sacrifice of Christ.

Conclusion   Palm Sunday reminds us that Christ entered Jerusalem knowing what lay ahead: suffering, death, and ultimately, resurrection. We, too, are called to walk this path with Him. Whatever trials we face, may we not only seek God in our need but also recognize that He is always seeking us. May we offer our sacrifices, great and small, in union with Christ, trusting that in Him, suffering is never the end of the story. 

Woman Caught in Adultery (2025-04-06, Lent, 5th Sunday)

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[__v.3__]   Homily –  April 6, 2025 /  5^th Sunday Lent  ● Isaiah 43:16-21 ●  Psalm ___ ●  Philippians 3:8-14 ● + John 8:1-11  ● 

[__01_]  Where Does the Bible Come From?

The Bible as a Collection of Books

Many of us think of the Bible as a single book—a thick book we can buy at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, or a Catholic bookstore. However, the Bible is more like a library of books collected over time. About 1,500 to 1,600 years ago, Church councils and leaders prayerfully determined which books should be included in the Bible.

For example, in the New Testament, there are 27 books, beginning with Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and ending with Revelation. While there are differences between Catholic and Protestant Bibles regarding the Old Testament, both traditions completely agree on the New Testament’s 27 books.

 How Were These Books Discovered?

The books of the Bible were discovered over time through archaeological digs. Archaeologists uncovered ancient papyrus scrolls, some written in Greek and others in Latin. The authenticity of these scrolls was determined by their age and content.

 

One interesting point is that in some of the oldest manuscripts of the Gospel of John, today’s passage does not appear. There was debate about whether it should be included in John’s Gospel or placed in the Gospel of Luke. Or, perhaps not included at all. This shows that prayerful discussion played a role in forming the Bible as we know it today.

Despite the early debates, this passage has become one of the most famous in the Gospels, frequently depicted in movies about Jesus.

It also has the famous phrase about “not casting a stone”

[__02_]    In today’s Gospel, we witness an encounter between Jesus, a woman caught in adultery, and a group of scribes and Pharisees eager to condemn her. This moment is one of profound mercy and justice, revealing God’s desire for conversion rather than condemnation. The scene serves as a testament to the power of witness—a central theme throughout John’s Gospel.

 The scribes and Pharisees bring the woman before Jesus, hoping to trap him. If he upholds the Mosaic Law, which demands her stoning, he appears harsh and unmerciful. If he releases her, he seems to disregard the law. Jesus does neither. Instead, he bends down and writes on the ground. What does he write? We do not know, but many speculate that he inscribes the sins of the very men standing before him, reminding them that they, too, are in need of mercy. When he finally speaks, his words echo through the centuries: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” One by one, the accusers walk away, beginning with the eldest, leaving Jesus alone with the woman.

 

[__03_]     Here in John 8, the woman caught in adultery becomes an unwitting witness to God’s mercy. The scribes and Pharisees, though they claim to uphold the law, fail to witness to God’s justice because their actions are not rooted in love but in a desire to trap Jesus. Their form of justice lacks compassion, yet true justice is inseparable from mercy.

 St. Augustine reflects on this passage with his famous phrase: “Hate the sin and love the sinner.” Jesus does not condone the woman’s sin, but neither does he condemn her. Instead, he calls her to conversion: “Go, and from now on do not sin anymore.” This moment illustrates the balance between mercy and repentance. God’s forgiveness is not a license to sin but an invitation to transformation.

 

Augustine also challenges us to consider how we regard women and marriage. In his time, as in ours, society often judged women more harshly than men in cases of adultery. The Gospel calls us to examine not only personal sin but also the structural injustices in our world. Today, we see industries built on the exploitation of women—human trafficking, pornography, and abuse that degrade human dignity. Jesus’ response to the woman reminds us that every person, no matter their past, is worthy of dignity and redemption.

 

This passage also challenges us to reflect on forgiveness. Many have experienced betrayal—whether through infidelity, broken trust, or deep wounds in relationships. Augustine acknowledges that reconciliation is difficult. Some marriages recover from infidelity, others do not. There is a retreat program called Retrouvaille that helps struggling couples rediscover their love. While not every situation leads to reconciliation, the Gospel calls us to avoid hardness of heart. True forgiveness is not approval of wrongdoing but liberation from resentment.

 

We might also consider how we react when faced with someone else’s sin. The scribes and Pharisees were quick to condemn, but Jesus calls us to examine ourselves first. When we stand before God, do we hold stones of judgment, or do we recognize our own need for mercy? This Gospel does not mean ignoring sin; rather, it asks whether our approach to others leads to restoration or destruction.

 

Jesus is a disruptor in this Gospel. He upends the social order by refusing to abandon the woman as society had. This mirrors other passages in Scripture: the father running to embrace the prodigal son, the Good Shepherd leaving the ninety-nine to find the lost sheep. God does not abandon the sinner but calls for repentance and renewal. If we find ourselves feeling abandoned—whether by others, by our circumstances, or even by God—we can take heart in Jesus’ words. Just as he did not abandon this woman, he does not abandon us.

 

Finally, this passage reminds us that we, too, are called to be witnesses—martyrs in the original sense of the word. A martyr is not only one who dies for the faith but one who testifies to Christ through their life. Our witness to Christ is shown in how we extend mercy, how we uphold justice, and how we respond when faced with the sins of others. Do we throw stones, or do we open the door to redemption?

 I pray we may reflecting on Jesus’ call to mercy, justice, and conversion. Let us strive to be witnesses not of God’s transformative love.  [end]