5th Sunday of Lent

To All the Lenten Pilgrims of Hope of the Epiphany 

Where Misery Meets Mercy: The Gaze of Christ Transforms 
The Fifth Sunday of Lent (06 April 2025), John 12:1-8 

On this Fifth Sunday of Lent, the liturgy presents us the episode of the adulterous woman 
(John 8:1-11). In it, there are two contrasting attitudes: that of the scribes and the Pharisees on the one hand, and that of Jesus on the other. The former wants to condemn the woman because they feel they are the guardians of the Law and of its faithful implementation. Jesus, on the other hand, wants to save her because he personifies God’s mercy which redeems by forgiving and renews by reconciling. And in the end only Jesus and the woman are left there in the middle: “misery with mercy”, as Saint Augustine says (In Joh 33:5). Jesus is the only one without fault, the only one who could throw a stone at her, but he does not do so, because God “does not want the death of the wicked but that the wicked convert and live” (Ezekiel 33:11). And Jesus sends the woman on her way with these wonderful words: “Go and do not sin again” (John 8:11). And thus, Jesus opens a new path to her, created by mercy, a path that requires her commitment not to sin again. It is an invitation that applies to each one of us. When Jesus forgives us, he always opens a new path on which to go forward. (Pope Francis, Angelus, 2019) 

Dear parishioners, the Gospel of the Fifth Sunday of Lent taken from St. John 8:1-11, reveals the boundless mercy of Christ in the face of human frailty. In this sacred moment, the sinful woman and Divine Mercy stood alone together. The Lord, having pierced the hearts of her accusers with the light of justice, does not even watch them depart, but turns His gaze downward, writing once more upon the earth as if etching grace into the dust of human weakness. 

When the tumult of condemnation had faded, and she remained before Him, trembling, He lifted His eyes—eyes full of truth and tenderness. She had already heard the voice of justice; now, she would encounter the voice of divine compassion. Perhaps she feared most the One in whom no sin was found, dreading that He alone, with rightful authority, would cast the first stone. Yet He, who had scattered her accusers with the sword of righteousness, now envelops her in the embrace of mercy. The sacred encounter between Mercy and Misery begins. 

“Has no one condemned you?” He asks, His voice a balm to her wounded soul. “No one, Lord,” she replies, to which He proclaims, “Neither do I condemn you.” This is not a dismissal of sin, nor a license for iniquity, but the very heart of redemption. He, the Sinless One, does not condone wrongdoing but calls the sinner to new life: “Go, and sin no more.” In this, Christ condemns the sin but spares the soul, revealing the profound mystery of a love that restores, a mercy that transforms, and a justice that seeks not destruction, but renewal. Therefore, the Lord also condemned sin, but not the woman (St Augustine, In Ioann. Evang., 33,5-6). 

Dear friends, at the conclusion of the Year of Mercy (2015-2016), Pope Francis’ Apostolic Letter bore the title Misericordia et Misera—Mercy and Misery. Within the very word misericordia, two realities intertwine: miseria (misery) and cor (heart). True mercy, then, is not merely an act of clemency but a divine embrace, where one’s suffering is taken into the depths of another’s heart. 

In that sacred encounter between Jesus and the woman caught in adultery, only two remained—one weighed down by her misery, and the Other, who took her misery into His own heart. She stood before Him in her shame, yet He saw her as beloved by God, not defined by her sin but called to redemption. St. Augustine’s words, Mercy meets Misery, unveil the profound mystery of divine love: God does not turn away from our brokenness but enters into it, offering healing instead of condemnation. Mercy of God encounters Misery of our human life. 

This is why Pope Francis reminds us: God never tires of forgiving us; it is we who tire of asking for forgiveness. His mercy is infinite, ever waiting, ever renewing. If only we would turn to Him, we would find not rejection, but a love that restores and makes all things new. Mercy meets with Misery. 

In the sacred encounter between Jesus and the woman caught in adultery, mercy and misery converge in a profound mystery of divine love. The weight of human frailty, embodied in her sin, meets the boundless compassion of Christ—a mercy that does not merely absolve but awakens the soul to renewal. His mercy is not passive; it does not simply erase guilt but calls forth transformation, lifting the sinner from the dust of shame into the light of grace. 

This moment reveals that true mercy is more than the removal of punishment; it is an invitation to redemption, a summons to walk in newness of life. Jesus does not dismiss the law, but He transcends legalism with the higher law of love—one that heals, restores, and reconciles the soul with God. In His gaze, she is not defined by her past but by the mercy that redeems her future. Such is the mercy of Christ: not a mere pardon, but the divine hand that lifts us from our misery and sets us on the path to holiness. 

The encounter between Jesus and the adulterous woman unveils a profound spiritual truth: mercy is not merely a response to misery but a divine force that transforms it. Mercy does not stand at a distance, offering mere relief—it reaches into the depths of human suffering, confronting the root causes of sin, judgment, and separation from God. It is the light that pierces through darkness, calling the soul back to life. Mercy encounters misery of our life. 

Mercy, as revealed by Christ, is not passive compassion but a path to renewal. For the adulterous woman, it is both forgiveness and an invitation to transformation—an outstretched hand leading her beyond shame and into grace. In Christian spirituality, this is the essence of divine mercy: not only the lifting of sin’s burden but the restoration of the soul, guiding it from misery into the fullness of God’s love. Mercy is the bridge that leads the broken heart back to wholeness, the sinner back to sanctity, and the lost back into the embrace of the Father. Hence, mercy lifts, and misery Binds. The divine love triumphs. 

Dear Epiphany, the woman in the Gospel embodies the deep sorrow and weight of sin, her transgression laid bare before the world. In her time, being caught in adultery meant more than just legal repercussions—it carried the unbearable burden of shame, rejection, and social exile. Yet, her greatest misery was not the condemnation of others, but the estrangement of her soul from God, from her community, and even from her own sense of dignity. 

Her story is not hers alone—it is the story of all humanity. In different ways, each soul is “caught” in sin, bound by weakness, and in desperate need of divine mercy. The true misery of sin is not only in its visible consequences but in the unseen rupture it creates, severing the soul from the grace that gives it life. Without God’s mercy, sin leaves the heart in darkness, yearning for the light of redemption. Yet, in that very misery, the call to mercy is already present—the invitation to restoration, healing, and a return to the embrace of divine love. 

The Pharisees and the crowd in this encounter embody a different kind of misery—the spiritual desolation of legalism and harsh judgment. The law, given by God, is meant to guide and uphold righteousness, yet when wielded without mercy, it becomes a weapon that deepens human suffering. The misery of the accused is evident, but there is also a hidden misery among the accusers: the blindness of self-righteousness, the coldness of a heart that condemns rather than redeems. Hence Mercy meets with misery and the gaze of Christ transforms it. 

Jesus’ response reveals the deeper affliction within those who judge without mercy. In their eagerness to expose another’s sin, they remain blind to their own. Their rigid adherence to the law without love distances them from the very heart of God. True righteousness is not found in pointing out the sins of others but in recognizing one’s own need for grace. The misery of judgmental hearts is that they seek to justify themselves by condemning others, unaware that they, too, are in desperate need of the same mercy they withhold. Jesus does not merely expose their hypocrisy—He invites them to a higher way, one where justice and mercy are united, leading to true spiritual freedom. 

In Luke 15, Jesus reveals the boundless mercy of the Father through the story of the prodigal son—a soul lost in misery, burdened by hunger, shame, and regret. Having squandered everything, he finds himself in the depths of despair, yet in his brokenness, he chooses to return home. What he expects is rejection; what he receives is unimaginable grace: “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20) 

This is the very heart of God. He does not wait for us to be worthy of His love—He runs to meet us in our misery, embracing us not with judgment, but with mercy. The prodigal son’s story is our own: whenever we turn back to the Father, no matter how far we have strayed, He welcomes us with open arms, ready to restore, heal, and clothe us once more in the dignity of His love. Mercy does not simply erase our past; it transforms our future, leading us home to the heart of God. The gaze of Christ triumphs where mercy meets misery. 

The most profound meeting of mercy and misery unfolds at Calvary. Upon the cross, the depths of human suffering are embraced by the infinite mercy of God. Here, love and sacrifice intertwine, as Jesus bears the weight of our sins, sorrows, and brokenness. The prophet Isaiah foretold this moment: “He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5) 

Christ’s mercy does not turn away from misery; it enters into its very heart. He does not merely offer relief—He takes our burdens upon Himself, transforming suffering into redemption, darkness into light, and death into new life. The cross is not the end of the story but the doorway to resurrection, where divine mercy triumphs and restores all who turn to Him. Let us allow Mercy to meet our Misery. 

Therefore, let the Community of Epiphany pray together: 

Merciful Father, you welcome the sinner who repents. 
Give me the grace to recognize my faults and to seek your forgiveness. 
Help me make a good sacramental confession. 

Fraternally, 
Fr. John Peter Lazaar SAC, Pastor