At a 25th wedding anniversary reception, a husband, perhaps a bit tipsy, thanked the crowd and boasted about his perfect marriage. When he sat down, his wife asked, “Tell me what hurts me.” He replied, “How do I know what hurts you?” She answered, “If you don’t know what hurts me, how can you say you love me?”
What made Jesus such a great lover? The greatest lover in human history? He didn’t just love; He knew how people hurt. He understood human pain—then and now.
Throughout His life, He demonstrated deep compassion for those in need: the woman caught in adultery, the Samaritan woman at the well, the weeping women of Jerusalem, and countless others. Jesus felt their pain, not just as an all-knowing God, but as fully human, attuned to the struggles of others.
He didn’t learn about suffering from books. He lived it. He knew poverty firsthand. He had no place to lay His head. He knew hunger and tears. He went hungry and wept. He didn’t just hear about hatred. His own townspeople tried to throw Him off a cliff.
Yet, He didn’t wait for people to seek Him out. He went to them, offering healing, comfort, and hope. As St. Matthew tells us, “He went about all their cities and villages, teaching, preaching, and healing every disease and infirmity.”
Even more remarkably, Jesus knows what hurts you and me today. Your Christian life makes no sense unless you believe that, in this moment, Jesus understands your pain and seeks you out. His promise is to give rest to the weary and burdened.
The challenge comes in how we respond to others. It’s easy to quote the Beatitudes: “Blessed are the poor, the hungry, the weeping.” But we must go beyond words. Too often, we tell those suffering to “keep a stiff upper lip,” but true compassion means engaging with others’ pain, not just offering distant hope.
Jesus calls us to reach out to those who hunger for kindness, love, and forgiveness. But even that isn’t enough; we must care deeply. As St. Vincent De Paul once said, “Unless you love, the poor will resent the bread you give them.”
Loving the outcast is only possible when we understand their pain—not from news reports, but from personal experience.
I’m not suggesting you rush to a mission or crowded prison. But with Lent approaching, this is a perfect time to share in Christ’s compassion. All around you, people are hurting. Some pain is visible, but much is hidden.
This Lent, ask God for the sensitivity to recognize and respond to their pain. Be present, listen, and offer your love. Don’t be put off by a harsh face; everyone has their struggles. Above all, listen and be fully present.
As you journey through Lent, reach out to those in pain. In doing so, you might transform the Gospel’s woes into Beatitudes: “Blessed are you who are well-fed, well-housed, and loved, for you have enriched others’ lives with love and laughter.”
Each of you is gifted in unique ways. Jesus calls you to use those gifts for others, whether that means giving everything you have or simply sharing your faith, hope, and compassion.
Your most precious possession is yourself. Give it away lavishly.
I find your reflections on the Sunday gospels very meaningful and inspirational. Keep on, keepin’ on. You do not know how many are really taking your messages to heart.