Day 34: Mercy Meets Us in Our Sin

Scripture Reading (Jerusalem Bible):

John 8:1–11 (Jerusalem Bible)

Jesus went to the Mount of Olives. At daybreak, He appeared in the Temple again; and as all the people came to Him, He sat down and began to teach them.

The scribes and Pharisees brought a woman along who had been caught committing adultery; and making her stand there in full view of everybody, they said to Jesus, “Master, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery, and Moses has ordered us in the Law to condemn women like this to death by stoning. What have you to say?”

They asked Him this as a test, looking for something to use against Him. But Jesus bent down and started writing on the ground with His finger. As they persisted with their question, He looked up and said, “If there is one of you who has not sinned, let him be the first to throw a stone at her.”

Then He bent down and wrote on the ground again. When they heard this, they went away one by one, beginning with the eldest, until Jesus was left alone with the woman, who remained standing there.

He looked up and said, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, sir,” she replied.

“Neither do I condemn you,” said Jesus. “Go away, and don’t sin any more.”

Reflection:

These final days of Lent ask something deeper of us. By now, we’ve tried to fast, to forgive, to pray more faithfully. But in that very effort, we’ve likely stumbled. We may feel weary, distracted, or discouraged. These are the very moments where God desires to meet us.

Today’s Gospel offers a scene of total exposure. The woman is brought before Jesus not in private, but in public shame. Yet what she finds is not condemnation—but mercy. Jesus does not excuse her sin, but He meets it with a gaze of compassion and a call to new life: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and sin no more.”

This Gospel is meant for you and for me. We may not be dragged into the public square, but we all carry wounds, regrets, and patterns of sin that feel exposed before the Lord. He sees it all—and still does not turn away. The One who knows us best loves us most.

As St. Leo the Great wrote:

“The ineffable mercy of Christ wiped away the sins of the woman with a word, and in the place of guilt, sowed seeds of virtue.”
(Sermon 62 on Lent)

The scribes and Pharisees want justice—but Jesus offers restoration. He shifts the gaze from the woman’s guilt to the self-examination of the crowd. “Let the one without sin cast the first stone.” And slowly, silently, they walk away. This is not a story about someone else—it is a mirror for our own hearts. Lent is not about stone-throwing; it’s about heart-returning.

The Desert Father Abba Moses the Black said:

“The one who knows his sins is greater than the one who raises the dead.”
(Apophthegmata Patrum, Moses 11)

Honest self-knowledge born in prayer is the path to healing. This is why Lent calls us into practices that soften our hearts and open us to mercy. Silent prayer, especially before the Blessed Sacrament, begins this process. So too does the sacrament of Reconciliation, where we meet Christ not with punishment, but with peace.

St. Elizabeth of the Trinity beautifully captured the mystery of grace in her retreat Heaven in Faith:

“‘Abyss calls to abyss.’ It is there in the very depths that the divine impact takes place, where the abyss of our nothingness encounters the Abyss of mercy, the immensity of the all of God.”

Her words remind us that God meets us in the very depths—not where we are strong, but where we are most broken. There, in the silence and the sorrow, in the place of our failure and regret, God’s mercy does not merely meet us—it overwhelms us. We are not left in our misery. The abyss of divine mercy fills every emptiness with grace.

The invitation today is deeply personal: Jesus looks at you and asks, “Where are your accusers? Has no one condemned you?” And when we answer, He replies—not with wrath, but with mercy. The response He desires is trust.

Reflection Questions:

1. Where do you feel most exposed or ashamed before God?
2. Do you believe Jesus meets you there not to condemn, but to heal?
3. What concrete step—perhaps silence, confession, or heartfelt prayer—can you take today to receive His mercy?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You know my sin and still You love me. You look upon me with compassion and speak a word of mercy that makes me new. Help me to step out of shame and into grace. Cleanse my heart and restore my hope. Give me the courage to return to You fully, and to live in the freedom of Your forgiveness.

Amen.

Day 33: Trusting the One Who Calls Us to Life

Scripture Reading (Jerusalem Bible):

John 11: 11:3-7,​17,​20-27,​33-45

Mary and Martha sent this message to Jesus, ‘Lord, the man you love is ill.’ On receiving the message, Jesus said, ‘This sickness will end not in death but in God’s glory, and through it the Son of God will be glorified.’

  Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, yet when he heard that Lazarus was ill he stayed where he was for two more days before saying to the disciples, ‘Let us go to Judaea.’

  On arriving, Jesus found that Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days already. When Martha heard that Jesus had come she went to meet him. Mary remained sitting in the house. Martha said to Jesus, ‘If you had been here, my brother would not have died, but I know that, even now, whatever you ask of God, he will grant you.’ ‘Your brother’ said Jesus to her ‘will rise again.’ Martha said, ‘I know he will rise again at the resurrection on the last day.’ Jesus said:

‘I am the resurrection and the life.
If anyone believes in me, even though he dies he will live,
and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.
Do you believe this?’

‘Yes, Lord,’ she said ‘I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, the one who was to come into this world.’

Jesus said in great distress, with a sigh that came straight from the heart, ‘Where have you put him?’ They said, ‘Lord, come and see.’ Jesus wept; and the Jews said, ‘See how much he loved him!’ But there were some who remarked, ‘He opened the eyes of the blind man, could he not have prevented this man’s death?’ Still sighing, Jesus reached the tomb: it was a cave with a stone to close the opening. Jesus said, ‘Take the stone away.’ Martha said to him, ‘Lord, by now he will smell; this is the fourth day.’ Jesus replied, ‘Have I not told you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?’ So they took away the stone. Then Jesus lifted up his eyes and said:

‘Father, I thank you for hearing my prayer.
I knew indeed that you always hear me,
but I speak for the sake of all these who stand round me,
so that they may believe it was you who sent me.’

When he had said this, he cried in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, here! Come out!’ The dead man came out, his feet and hands bound with bands of stuff and a cloth round his face. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, let him go free.’

Many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary and had seen what he did believed in him.

Reflection:

At the center of today’s Gospel stands a Christological truth: Jesus is not only the miracle-worker—He is the Resurrection and the Life. His very presence is life-giving. The raising of Lazarus is not simply a miracle of compassion—it is a signpost pointing to the Cross and Resurrection, a foreshadowing of what Jesus will accomplish for all who believe.

Both faithful and close to Jesus, Martha and Mary cry out in pain: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” This lament does not reflect a lack of faith—it is the grief of love. Jesus does not rebuke them. He meets them in that grief. He weeps with them.

We grieve because we love—grief is love realized.

As St. Augustine said:
“Love is a kind of weight or burden: it pulls us toward what we love.”
(Confessions, XIII.9.10)

In heaven, our love is made whole in God. What Mary and Martha desire is wholeness. Jesus meets that longing not only with consolation, but with action. He steps into their sorrow and reveals the power of God’s mercy. He does not promise that suffering will disappear—but that it will not have the last word.

St. Thomas Aquinas teaches:
“God allows evil to happen only to bring a greater good therefrom.” (Summa Theologiae, I, q.2, a.3)

Jesus’ delay in arriving is not neglect—it is mystery. He allows space for faith, for trust, for the revelation of the Father’s glory. This is a reflection of how God often works in our lives: not on our timeline, but always for our ultimate good.

In calling Lazarus forth, Jesus also calls each of us. He invites us to step out of the tombs of fear, sin, and despair. But He does not do this alone. He calls the community to participate: “Unbind him and let him go.”

As St. Augustine beautifully wrote:
“He who created you without you will not save you without you.” (Sermon 169)

Lent is a time for us to reflect on what binds us and where we need new life. It is a time to allow Jesus to speak His word of life into our dead places. It is a time to help one another step out of darkness and into the light of communion.

St. Teresa of Calcutta once said:
“When you know how much God is in love with you, you can only live your life radiating that love.”

And the Desert Father Abba Poemen reminds us:
“Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy. Let love be your measure in all things.” (Apophthegmata Patrum, Poemen 18)

Christ calls us to a life more abundant than we dare imagine. He meets us in our grief, walks with us in our confusion, and calls us into healing and wholeness. The invitation is not just to witness a miracle—but to live it, to step forward in faith, and to help unbind others along the way. The path through suffering is not meaningless—it is a path to resurrection.

Reflection Questions:

1. What parts of your heart feel like a tomb—places where you’ve lost hope or stopped believing things can change?
2. How do you respond when Jesus seems to delay or remain silent?
3. Are you willing to let Jesus unbind what keeps you from living fully in His love?

Closing Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You are the Resurrection and the Life. In the places where we are dead or bound, speak Your word of life. Help us to trust even when we do not understand. Teach us to pray, to listen, and to discern what the Father is doing. Call us out of the tomb and give us the grace to respond. May we be unbound by fear and live in the freedom of Your love.
Amen.