Le Roi-Berger : Comment le Christ restaure l’appel originel de l’humanité à servir et à prendre soin de la Création. (2 Samuel 5: 1-3. Colossiens 1: 12-20 et Luc 23:35-43).

La solennité du Christ Roi marque la fin du temps ordinaire de l'année liturgique. Elle nous invite à méditer sur le dessein originel de Dieu pour l'humanité et sur la manière surprenante dont il s'accomplit en Jésus. Si nous écoutons attentivement les lectures d'aujourd'hui, nous découvrirons une constante qui se déploie dès les premières pages de l'Écriture Sainte jusqu'au dernier mot de l'Évangile. Dieu nous confie l'autorité comme une vocation à prendre soin des autres, de la création.  Mais depuis le commencement, l'humanité a toujours peiné à exercer son autorité et sa liberté conformément au dessein initial de Dieu.

Avant même que le péché n'entre dans le monde, Dieu confia une mission à l'humanité . Genèse 2:15 dit que Dieu plaça Adam et Ève dans le jardin « pour le cultiver et le garder ». Les verbes hébreux utilisés ici sont assez frappants : Ābad signifie non seulement « travailler », mais aussi « servir » et même « adorer ». Le verbe Šāmar  signifie « garder » mais aussi « veiller sur », « protéger » et, dans de nombreux cas, « observer les commandements de Dieu ». Ces deux verbes sont employés tout au long de l'Ancien Testament pour décrire le ministère des prêtres dans le sanctuaire (cf. Nombres 3, 7-8 ; Deutéronome 10, 8). Autrement dit, le premier homme est présenté comme une sorte de prêtre-gardien de la création. L'exercice de son autorité devait commencer par un service, le culte rendu à son Créateur et la protection de la création. Il a dû affronter la tentation de la domination et de l'affirmation de soi.

Le chapitre 3 de la Genèse révèle la chute de l'humanité face à cette tentation de domination . Il ne s'agissait pas simplement de manger le fruit défendu ; il s'agissait avant tout de s'emparer du contrôle de la création et de redéfinir le « Bien et le Mal » selon ses propres termes. Cette tentation ancestrale résonne à travers l'histoire. Elle se manifeste à certains moments de l'humanisme séculier qui place l'être humain au centre de la réalité, sans référence à la révélation divine. De ce fait, le pouvoir donné aux humains de « servir et de garder » est devenu un instrument d'affirmation de soi, en totale opposition à la volonté de Dieu. La faute d'Adam et Ève a brisé les relations humaines et l'ordre de la création, laissant au cœur de l'humanité une soif de leadership légitime.

Ce désir est palpable dans la première lecture d'aujourd'hui (cf. 2 Samuel 5, 1-3) . Les tribus d'Israël vinrent trouver David, se souvenant de la manière dont il les avait guidées avant même d'être roi. La royauté de David est précieuse car il incarne quelque chose de cette vocation originelle de l'humanité : servir, prendre soin et protéger. Mais l'Ancien Testament évoque aussi des rois qui ont agi à l'inverse. Ézéchiel 34 dénonce les souverains qui « se nourrissent eux-mêmes » au lieu de nourrir leur troupeau. L'histoire des Israélites devient ainsi une quête du Roi-Berger qui accomplira enfin le dessein de Dieu.

La lettre de Paul aux Colossiens 1,12-20 apporte la réponse à l'aide d'images fortes. Le Christ est « l'image du Dieu invisible », celui par qui toutes choses ont été faites et en qui « toutes choses subsistent ». Paul insiste sur le fait que ce Seigneur cosmique est le même qui a réconcilié la création « en faisant la paix par le sang de sa croix ». Le règne de Jésus est donc un règne restaurateur qui réorganise le monde par son amour désintéressé. En termes théologiques, là où la désobéissance d'Adam a blessé la création, le Christ, le Nouvel Adam (cf. Romains 5 ; 1 Corinthiens 15), représente et accomplit la guérison si nécessaire, ramenant l'exercice de l'autorité à ce que Dieu avait originellement voulu.

L’Évangile d’aujourd’hui (Luc 23, 35-43) accomplit pleinement le dessein originel de Dieu . Il nous invite à contempler le paradoxe de la royauté du Christ. Jésus est raillé comme un roi précisément parce qu’il a refusé d’utiliser la force pour se sauver. Le chef et les soldats ne peuvent concevoir l’autorité qui s’exprime par la vulnérabilité. C’est pourquoi saint Paul dit que pour les Juifs et les Grecs, un roi crucifié est un « scandale » et une « folie » (cf. 1 Corinthiens 1, 23).

Même au dernier instant de sa vie, l'humanité demeure confrontée à deux choix fondamentaux : reconnaître ses péchés et implorer la miséricorde divine, ou persister dans l'orgueil et l'arrogance, au risque de perdre le salut. Sur le Calvaire, un criminel se joint aux railleries, tandis qu'un autre perçoit ce que la plupart ont manqué. Dans le Crucifié, il voit « Innocence, Majesté, Amour et Miséricorde », expression de sa conversion. Une telle prière touche le cœur de Dieu. Jésus lui répond : « Aujourd'hui, tu seras avec moi au Paradis. » C'est là le paradoxe : le véritable trône du Roi est la Croix ; sa couronne, la miséricorde ; son règne se réalise dans la repentance, le pardon et l'accueil. Le salut est présent dès aujourd'hui, et le Royaume se manifeste partout où les âmes blessées sont guéries, où les pécheurs reviennent à Dieu et sont pardonnés, et où la dignité humaine est restaurée par le Roi crucifié.

Pour nous, chrétiens (parents, responsables, enseignants, bénévoles, responsables paroissiaux, voisins), cette fête nous invite à repenser notre conception de l'autorité . Reproduisons-nous le modèle de la Genèse 3 ? Comment utilisons-nous l'autorité, l'influence et la liberté qui nous sont confiées ? Nous en servons-nous pour défendre notre ego, humilier et contrôler autrui ? Ou bien laissons-nous le Christ nous façonner, afin que notre autorité devienne service, protection des plus vulnérables, réconciliation des relations brisées, paroles de réconfort aux âmes blessées ?

Laisser le Christ régner dans nos vies, c'est laisser sa façon d'être remodeler la nôtre : écouter sans juger, protéger les autres, donner la priorité aux faibles plutôt qu'aux puissants, reconnaître nos erreurs et demander pardon.

Aujourd'hui, faisons entrer dans notre vie la prière du larron : « Seigneur, souviens-toi de moi. » Que le Roi crucifié nous enseigne que la véritable puissance guérit, le véritable leadership restaure et la véritable grandeur se mesure à la compassion et au pardon. En acceptant ce règne, nous devenons partenaires de l'œuvre de renouveau de Dieu, petits signes de son Royaume dans notre monde.

Que Dieu nous bénisse tous alors que nous répondons à son appel aujourd'hui !🙏🙏🙏

 

The Shepherd-King : How Christ Restores Humanity’s Original Call to Serve and Take Care. Of Creation. (2 Samuel 5: 1-3. Colossians 1: 12-20 & Luke 23:35-43).

 The Solemnity of Christ the King brings us to the end of the ordinary time of the year in the liturgical calendar. It draws our attention to God’s original design for humanity and to the surprising way is fulfilled in Jesus. If we listen attentively to today’s readings, we will discover a behavioral pattern that stretches from the first pages of the Sacred Scripture to the final word of the Gospel. God gives us authority as a vocation of care, and a call to collaborate with Him in the plan of creation. But right from the beginning, humanity has always struggled to exercise authority and liberty in accordance with God’s initial plan.

Ever before sin entered the world, God entrusted humanity with a mission. Genesis 2:15 says that God placed Adam and Eve in the garden “to till and keep it”. The Hebrew verbs used here  are quite striking: Ābad means not only “to work” but also “to serve” and even “to worship.” Šāmar means “to keep,” but also “to guard,” “to watch over,” and in many cases, “to observe God’s commands.” These two verbs are used throughout the Old Testament to describe the ministry of priests in the sanctuary (Cfr Numbers 3: 7-8; Deuteronomy 10:8). In other words, the first human is presented as kind of priest-guardian of creation. His exercise of authority should begin as a service, the worship of His Creator and protection of creation. He had to confront the temptation of domination and self-assertion.

Genesis 3 reveals the fall of humanity into this temptation of domination. The temptation was not simply about eating the forbidden fruit; it was primarily about seizing control of the creation and redefining “Good and Evil” on human own terms. This ancient temptation echoes through history. It appears in certain  moments of the secular humanism that places human being at the center of reality without reference to God's revelation. As a result of this, the power given to humans to “serve and guard” became instruments of self-assertion, in total opposition to God’s will.  The failure of Adam and Eve fractured human relationships and the created order, leaving a longing in the human heart for rightful leadership.

That longing is visible in today’s first reading (Cfr 2 Samuel 5:1–3). The tribes of Israelites came to David remembering how he shepherded them even before he was king. David’s kingship is valued because he embodies something of that original vocation of humanity: to serve, take care of, and protect.  But the Old Testament also remembers kings who did the opposite. Ezekiel 34 indicts rulers who “feed themselves” instead of the flock. The story of the Israelites, therefore, becomes a search for the Shepherd-King who will finally fulfil God’s plan.

Paul’s letter to the Colossians 1:12–20 gives the answer using strong images. Christ is “the image of the invisible God,” the one through whom all things were made and in whom “all things hold together.”  Paul insists that this cosmic Lord is the same one who reconciled creation “by making peace through the blood of His cross.” The kingship of Jesus is therefore a restorative rule that reorders the world by His self-giving love. In theological language, where Adam’s disobedience wounded creation, Christ, the New Adam (cf. Romans 5; 1 Corinthians 15), represents and effects the healing much needed, bringing the exercise of authority back to what God originally intended.

Today’s Gospel (Luke 23:35–43) brings to perfection that original plan of God. It invites us to contemplate the paradox of the kingship of Christ.  Jesus is mocked as a king precisely because he refused to use force to save himself. The leader and soldiers cannot imagine authority expressed through vulnerability. This is the reason why St Paul says that for the Jews and Greek, a Crucified King is a “Scandal” and “Foolishness” (Cfr 1 Corinthians 1:23).

Even at the final moment of life, humanity still remains confronted with two fundamental choices: to acknowledge its sins and ask for God's mercy, or to persist in self-assertion, and pride, thereby risking the loss of salvation. On the Calvary, one criminal joins the chorus of mockery; while the other perceives what most people has missed. In the Crucified he sees “Innocence, Majesty, Love and Mercy" expresses his conversion of heart. Such a prayer touches the heart of God. Jesus responded to him saying: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” Here lies the paradox: the true throne of the King is the Cross; his crown is mercy; his reign is realized in repentance, forgiveness, and welcome. Salvation begins is present “today,” and the kingdom becomes visible wherever wounded souls receive healing, sinners return to God and are forgiven, and human dignity restored by the Crucified King.

For us Christians (parents, managers, teachers, volunteers, parish leaders, neighbors), this feast reorients how we understand authority. Do we replicate the pattern of Genesis 3? How do we use authority, influence, or freedom entrusted to us? Do we grasp authority to defend our ego, to humiliate, and control others? Or do we let Christ form us, so that our authority becomes service, protection of the most vulnerable, reconciling broken relations, speaking words of healing to wounded souls?

To allow Christ to reign in our lives is to let Him way of being reshape our own: listening without being judgmental, protecting others, prioritizing the weak rather than the influential, admitting our mistakes and asking for forgiveness. 

Today, let us invite the thief’s prayer into our own life: “Remember me, Lord.” May the crucified King teach us that real power heals, real leadership restores, and real greatness is measured by compassion and forgiveness. In accepting this kind of reign, we become partners in God’s work of renewal, small signs of the kingdom in our world. 

May God bless us all as we embrace His call today! 

 

Christ our Remedy: Discovering Love at the Foot of the Cross.

 

Sisters and Brothers in Christ, today the Church lift high the Holy Cross through which we are saved. The feast began in Jerusalem in the 4^th century. After St. Helena’s discovery of what is believed to be the True Cross on which Jesus was crucified, Emperor Constantine bult the basilica over the place of Calvary and the Tomb of Jesus. On 13 September 335, St Macarius of Jerusalem dedicated that Church in the presence of the gathered bishop’s; and the next day the “Cross was raised for the faithful to venerate.” Later, the memory of the Cross’s return to Jerusalem under Emperor Heraclius after the Persian sack in 614 deepened the feast’s meaning. The feast of the exaltation of the Holy Cross dates back to this period.

The sign that heals (1^st Reading: Numbers 21:4-9).

The experience of the Israelites in the desert was a time of purification, a renewal in their ancestral covenant with God, and a preparation for the promised land. The Scripture tells us that this journey lasted 40 years, a long period of trials that exposed both their human weakness and their struggles of faith. In today’s first reading, we hear about one of those moments of failure: the people fell into the “sin of murmuring” against God and Moses. Impatience grew in their hearts, and they complained bitterly: “Why have you brought us up from Egypt to die in this desert, where there is no food or water? We are disgusted with this wretched food!”

Before considering the punishment that follows and the remedy God provides, it is important to pause here and reflect on the nature of their sin.  What lies beneath their complaint? It is more than simple hunger or thirst. It is the loss of trust in God’s providence, the refusal to remember what He had already done for them, and the temptation to believe that slavery in Egypt was better that freedom in the desert. In their grumbling we recognize ourselves: how often do we, too, grow impatient in life’s desert experiences, forgetting the past blessings, the gifts God has already given us? Sometime we turn our dissatisfaction into rebelling against God.  

Facing the Consequences of Sin and God’s Remedy

Immediately after their complaint, the text tells us that the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and many were bitten and died. At first glance this punishment may seem harsh, but it reveals a deeper truth: sin has consequences. When we turn away from God, we open ourselves to forces that wound and destroy. This story reminds us of the ancient serpent that deceived Adam and Eve, leading them into sin against God (Genesis 3:1-15). Yet, the story does not end with divine judgment. The people, recognizing their fault, cry out for mercy. And here comes the surprising remedy, God instructs Moses to fashion a bronze serpent and lift it high on a pole, so that whoever looks at it will be healed.

But why a serpent? The image of serpent here immediately recalls to mind the ancient serpent of Genesis (Genesis 3:1) that deceived Adam and Eve and let humanity into disobedience and death. The same creature that symbolized curse, ruin, and death now becomes the instrument of healing. This paradox points to a mystery God does not always remove the sign of our falls; instead, He transform it. The very symbol of defeat becomes the channel of salvation. This reveal also divine justice.

This is why Jesus, speaking of his own Passion, refers back to this event: “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.”  (Jn 3:14). Just as the Israelites were invited to look upon the serpent and live, so we are called to lift our eyes to the Crucified Jesus. On the Cross, Christ Jesus takes upon himself the poison of sin, transforms it into the medicine of mercy, and offers us healing to all who believe in Him.  

As St Paul would later preach: “We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block for the Jews and foolishness for the Gentiles, but to those who are called, Christ is the Power of God and the Wisdom of God.”  (1 Cor 1: 23-24). What appears as a scandal and folly becomes for believers the very source of eternal life.

In the Gospel, Jesus tells Nicodemus that no one has gone up to God except the One who came down. The Cross is the hinge between that descent and ascent: “so must the Son of Man be lifted up…that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” Eternal life is God’s own life shard with us now. Believing, then, is not having a mere opinion about Jesus. It is growing daily in the trusting gaze that we learned in the desert.

Venerable Fulton J. Sheen loved to say, “Every other person who ever came into this world came into it to live. Jesus came into it to die.” And again, he says: “Unless there is a Good Friday in our lives, there will never be an Easter Sunday.” He was not glorifying suffering; he was rather telling us that love pays the full price and then gives even more.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who suffered under the nazi regime put it this way: “When Christ calls a man, he bids him to come and die.” Not always a physical death, but the daily death of the old self that resists love. This is costly grace. That is discipleship.”

As we celebrate this feast, we may wish to practice the following acts of faith: find a Crucifix at home or in a nearby Church. Kneel before it and contemplate this Love. Name before the Lord what “bites” you: a particular sin, especially habitual ones, a resentment, a fear, a heavy burden, etc. Pray simple: “Jesus, lifted up for me, I look to you. Heal me.”

To exalt the Cross is to lift up those who are bowed down, the lowly, humiliated, neglected, trampled upon. In Christ Jesus God is at work to turn poison of sins into medicine, curses into blessings, and loss into a new beginning. Happy Feast to all of us!!

Love that Refuses to Give Up. Luke 7:11–17 : Jesus Raises the Widow’s Son at Nain

 

There is something deeply moving in today’s Gospel. A mother, already broken by the loss of her husband, is now accompanying her only son to the grave. The text tells us that Jesus “was moved with compassion.” He did not remain distant, nor did He offer words from afar. He stepped right into her grief, touched the bier, and gave her back her son.

On this day we remember St. Monica, we cannot help but see her in that widow of Nain. Monica too knew tears, long nights of prayer, the loneliness of carrying sorrow in her heart for her son Augustine. She refused to give up. She carried him not on a bier but on her knees, year after year, until God intervened. And just as Jesus restored the widow’s son to life, He restored Augustine to the life of faith.

This Gospel reminds us that our tears are never wasted. Compassion is God’s language. Jesus does not pass by our grief, our waiting, or our prayers for those we love. He sees, He stops, and He acts, sometimes in ways hidden and slow, but always with the same tenderness that moved Him at Nain.

St. Monica teaches us that love does not give up. She is a witness that faith can hold steady even when everything looks dead and buried. Today, we are invited to bring to Jesus the names, faces, and stories of those we carry in our hearts. Like Monica, we may not know when or how God will answer, but we can trust He will.

May her example encourage us to pray with patience and tears, and to believe that the God who raised the widow’s son, who brought Augustine to faith, is still at work in the lives of those we love.🙏🙏🙏

Pentecost Sunday: “Receive the Gift, and be Empowered for the Mission” Readings: Acts 2:1–11; Romans 8:8–17 : John 14:15–16, 23

 

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

Today, we celebrate Pentecost, one of the most important feasts in the life of the Church. But to understand its full meaning, we must first remember what Pentecost meant for the Jews.

The word Pentecost comes from the Greek Pentēkostē, meaning “fiftieth.” It was celebrated fifty days after the Passover as the Feast of Weeks, a time to thank God for the first fruits of the harvest and to remember the giving of the Law to Moses at Mount Sinai. So while the Jews were celebrating God’s gift of the Law, something even greater was happening, the gift of the Holy Spirit, written not on stone, but on human hearts.

The Spirit in God’s Plan of Salvation

From the beginning, the Holy Spirit has always been present in God’s plan. At creation, the Spirit hovered over the waters (Gen 1:2).The prophets were inspired by the Spirit to speak God’s Word. And in the fullness of time, the angel said to Mary: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you” (Lk 1:35).

Jesus himself promised the coming of the Spirit. He called Him the Paraklētos the Advocate, the Helper, the Comforter. In John’s Gospel today, Jesus says: “If you love me, keep my commandments, and I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Advocate to be with you forever.”

This Advocate is not an optional part of the Christian life. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot understand the Word, we cannot live as children of God, we cannot witness to the Gospel. He is the soul of the Church and the power behind every true Christian life.

The Coming of the Spirit: Fulfillment of Prophecy : What happened in that Upper Room in Jerusalem was the fulfillment of prophecy. The prophet Joel said: “I will pour out my Spirit on all people... your sons and daughters will prophesy... Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days.” (Joel 2:28–29)

Jesus told his disciples to wait in Jerusalem until they were “clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49). To be clothed with the Holy Spirit means a lot in the life of every Christian. And so they waited together in prayer. And then it happened: The Gospel understood by everyone, no matter their culture. The confusion of Babel in the Old Testament was reversed by the Spirit of Communion. This was the moment the Church was born with fire.

Why Every Christian Needs the Holy Spirit: St. Paul tells us in Romans: “If anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ.” (Rom 8:9). The Spirit is the one who makes us sons and daughters of God. He helps us cry out “Abba! Father!” (Rom 8:15). He gives us the confidence to live as children of the light. Without the Spirit, we live in the flesh, which means we are driven by fear, selfishness, and sin. But with the Spirit, we are led by grace, peace, and love.

We need the Holy Spirit to: Pray as we should, to Forgive those who hurt us, to witness to Christ in difficult moments, to Persevere in trials, to Discover our unique gifts and mission in the Church.

How Do We Receive the Holy Spirit?

We receive the Spirit first in Baptism, and then in a deeper way in Confirmation. But Pentecost reminds us that the Spirit is not a one-time gift. He must be welcomed daily. Jesus says: “If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” (John 14:23)

To receive the Spirit more fully, we need three things: the Desire His presence ardently: Ask and you shall receive. Be Open to Him, and Let go of pride, sin, and fear. Obedience: The Spirit is given to those who want to follow Christ sincerely.

What Are the Signs of the Spirit in Our Lives? : The Spirit doesn’t always come with loud noise or visible fire. But He always brings fruit. As Paul tells us elsewhere, the fruit of the Spirit is: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Gal 5:22–23). If these are growing in us, even slowly, it is a sign that the Spirit is at work.

He also gives gifts, wisdom, understanding, courage, and more, so we can serve the Church and evangelize the world.

Today, my dear brothers and sisters, Let us allow the Holy Spirit transform our lives now and forever.

The Church needs the Spirit.
Our families need the Spirit.
You and I, we cannot live the Christian life without Him.

So let us pray today with all our hearts:

Come, Holy Spirit! Fill the hearts of your faithful. Enkindle in us the fire of your love. Renew the face of the earth and begin with us🙏🙏🙏.

Amen.

 

« Il n’y a pas d’amour plus grand que celui‑ci ».

Chers amis, aujourd’hui nous méditons le plus solennel des après‑midis du calendrier chrétien. L’Église paraît dépouillée, silencieuse. Nous ressentons un mélange de stupeur, de tristesse, mais surtout une profonde gratitude pour l’amour immense que Dieu nous a manifesté en Jésus‑Christ. Parmi les nombreux passages bibliques proposés au cours de ce Triduum pascal, je voudrais m’arrêter sur deux versets : Jean 13,1 et Jean 15,13.

« Il les aima jusqu’au bout » (Jn 13,1) »

Saint Jean place cette phrase comme un en‑tête de tout le récit de la Passion : « Lui qui avait aimé les siens qui étaient dans le monde, il les aima jusqu’au bout. » En grec, eis telos signifie à la fois « jusqu’au dernier souffle » et « jusqu’à la limite extrême ». Jésus ne ménage pas son affection ; il la répand comme l’eau du bassin lorsque, à genoux, il lave des pieds fatigués et poussiéreux , un travail d’esclave accompli par le Maître de l’univers. Il a tout donné pour que nous soyons réconciliés avec Dieu.

Saint Augustin disait : « La mesure de l’amour, c’est d’aimer sans mesure. » Lorsque nous contemplons le Calvaire, nous voyons un amour qui bat tous les records, un amour sans limite. Chaque coup de fouet, chaque pas douloureux, chaque goutte de sang crie : « Je ne t’abandonnerai jamais. » La Passion et la Mort de Jésus sur la croix sont la plus belle lettre d’amour que Dieu nous ait écrite.

« Il n’y a pas de plus grand amour… » (Jn 15,13)

Quelques heures après le lavement des pieds, sur le chemin de Gethsémani, Jésus se tourne vers ses amis : « Il n’y a pas de plus grand amour que de donner sa vie pour ses amis. » Les apôtres ne le comprennent pas encore, mais il signe déjà l’acte de donation de sa propre vie.

Les Pères de l’Église ont abondamment commenté la Passion. Saint Grégoire le Grand fait remarquer une chose remarquable : Jésus aurait pu réduire ses ennemis au silence d’un seul mot, mais il a choisi de se taire pour nous donner la parole. Voilà la véritable puissance de l’amour : une force tempérée par la miséricorde ; l’unique amour qui sauve vraiment.

Et observez qui il appelle « amis » : non pas des disciples parfaits, mais des compagnons fatigués et somnolents qui, bientôt, le renieront, le trahiront, l’abandonneront. S’il y a une place pour eux au pied de la croix, il y en a aussi pour chacun de nous.

Il nous avait prévenus (Mt 17,22‑23) : trois fois sur la route de Jérusalem, Jésus a pris les Douze à part pour leur annoncer dans le détail qu’il serait livré, bafoué, mis à mort, et que le troisième jour il ressusciterait. Les clous mêmes qui le fixent proclament la solidité de ses promesses.

Ce message rejoint nos vies. Lorsque nous affrontons la souffrance , maladie, deuil, angoisse , nous demandons souvent : « Pourquoi ? » Quand il nous semble que Dieu se tait, souvenons‑nous du cri de Jésus sur la croix : « Mon Dieu, mon Dieu, pourquoi m’as‑tu abandonné ? » En ce cri se récapitule toute expérience humaine de l’abandon, de l’agonie, de la mort. Le Vendredi saint ne répond pas à toutes nos questions, mais il révèle qui se tient à nos côtés dans nos nuits, portant nos fardeaux et nous assurant : « Les ténèbres n’auront pas le dernier mot. »

Saint Éphrem le Syrien décrivait la croix comme « l’arbre qui a fleuri dans le sang afin que le paradis refleurisse ». Bernard de Clairvaux nous invite : « Contemple les plaies du Christ ; tu y liras son cœur. » Catherine de Sienne s’écrie : « Ô brasier de charité ardente ! Quel cœur fut jamais consumé aussi totalement par amour pour ses créatures ? » Thérèse de Lisieux murmure tendrement : « Il m’a aimée et s’est livré pour moi. »

Ces voix de la tradition nous rappellent que la croix est un don si personnel qu’elle porte chacun de nos noms.

À l’exemple de Marie et de Jean, approchons‑nous. Apportons nos péchés, nos regrets, nos relations brisées pour qu’ils soient crucifiés avec lui. Laissons sa manière d’aimer inspirer nos actes : Pardonner ceux qui ne s’excuseront peut-être  jamais. Servir discrètement, sans attendre de reconnaissance. Rester auprès de la croix de quelqu’un, même si nous n’avons que notre présence à offrir.

Une petite histoire illustre cette vérité : une infirmière racontait qu’un patient redoutait de mourir seul. Elle resta à son chevet toute la nuit, lui tenant la main. Au matin, il était parti, mais son visage rayonnait de paix. Cette infirmière a incarné ce que Jésus fait pour le monde entier aujourd’hui : refuser que quiconque souffre dans la solitude.

Prions :
Seigneur Jésus, tu nous as aimés jusqu’au bout et tu as donné ta vie pour tes amis.
Apprends à nos cœurs agités la vraie force de l’amour livré.
Que le souvenir de tes plaies guérisse les nôtres, que ton silence nous donne courage dans nos peurs, et que la promesse de ta résurrection allume en nous l’espérance. Amen.

« Nous t’adorons, ô Christ, et nous te bénissons, car par ta sainte croix tu as racheté le monde. »

Que ce Vendredi saint nous rapproche toujours plus de cette croix rédemptrice, afin que, lorsque l’aube de Pâques se lèvera, nos cœurs soient renouvelés.

 

There is no Love greater than this.

Dear friends, today, we meditate on the most solemn afternoon of the Christian calendar: Good Friday. The church feels stripped down, quiet. We feel a mix of awe, sadness, but above all, gratitude for the immense love of God for us manifested in Christ Jesus. Among the various biblical passages that we meditate on during this Triduum Pascal, I would like to take a pause on two: John 13:1 and 15:13.

 

“He loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1) : Saint John places this line like a heading over the whole Passion story: “Having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end.” In Greek, eis telos means two things at once: “to the last breath” and “to the furthest limit.” Jesus does not ration His affection. He pours it out like water from the basin when He kneels to wash tired, dusty feet, a servant’s job done by the Master of the universe. He gave it all for us to be reconciled with God.

 

Saint Augustine once said, “The measure of love is to love without measure.” When we look at Calvary, we see love that breaks all records, love without limit. Every lash, every agonizing step, every drop of blood shouts, “I will never give up on you.” The Passion and Death of Jesus on the Cross is the most beautiful Love Letter that God wrote to us.

“No one has greater love…” (Jn 15:13)

A few hours after the foot‑washing, on the walk to Gethsemane, Jesus turns to His friends: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” The apostles don’t realize it yet, but He’s signing the deed of gift with His own life.

 

The Church Father wrote a lot on the passion of Jesus.  Saint Gregory the Great pointed out something remarkable: Jesus could have silenced His enemies with just a word, but instead, He chose to remain silent, giving us a voice. This is the true power of love; it is strength tempered by mercy, the kind of love that truly saves.

And notice who He calls “friends.” Not just perfect followers, rather, weary, sleepy disciples who would soon turn their backs, deny, betray and abandon him. If there’s a place for them at the foot of the cross, there’s room for each of us as well.

He told us this would happen (Matthew 17:22-23):  Three times on the path to Jerusalem, Jesus took the Twelve aside and laid out the grim details: he will be betrayed, mocked, put to death, and on the third day he will rise again. The very nails locking Him in place affirm that His promises are steadfast.

This message speaks to our own lives. When we face suffering, be it illness, grief, or anxiety, we often wonder, “Why?” When we feel that the voice of God is silent, let us remember the voice of Jesus on the Cross: “My God, My God, why have thy forsaken me?” In his cry on the Cross is recapitulated on human experience of abandonment, agony and death. Good Friday may not answer every question, but it reveals who stands with us in our darkest hours, bearing those burdens alongside us and assuring us, “Darkness will not prevail.”

St Ephrem the Syrian described the cross as “the tree that blossomed in blood so that paradise might blossom again.” Bernard of Clairvaux invited us to “look upon the wounds of Christ; there you will read His heart.” Catherine of Siena exclaimed, “O fire of burning charity! Was any heart ever consumed so utterly for love of its creatures?” Thérèse of Lisieux reflected tenderly, “He loved me and gave Himself for me.”

These voices from our tradition remind us that the cross is a gift so personal that it carries each of our names.

 

We follow the example of Mary and John: we draw near. We bring our sins, our regrets, and our broken relationships, surrendering them to be crucified with Him. We let His way of love inspire our actions: - Forgive those who may never apologize. - Serve quietly, without the expectation of recognition. - Stand by someone else’s cross, even if all you can offer is your presence.

A small story comes to mind: A nurse once shared how a patient feared dying alone. She stayed by his side all night, holding his hand. When morning arrived, he had passed on, but his face had found peace. In that moment, the nurse embodied what Jesus does for the whole world today: refusing to let anyone suffer alone.

 

Let u Prayer:

Lord Jesus, You loved us to the end and gave Your life for Your friends.

Teach our restless hearts the true strength of surrendered love.

May the memory of Your wounds bring healing to our own wounds, your silence grant us courage in our fears, and the promise of Your rising ignite hope within us. Amen.

 

“We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You, for by Your holy cross You have redeemed the world.” May this Good Friday draw us ever closer to that redeeming cross so that when Easter dawns, our hearts will be renewed.