Divine Appeal Reflection - 270
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 270: "...the Church will not be able to flourish again if she does not return to a life of humanity!"
Our Adorable Jesus does not speak from a throne of severity but from the pierced gentleness of His Sacred Heart, a Heart that has laughed with friends, wept at Lazarus’ tomb, grown weary at Jacob’s well, and hungered in the desert. Looking upon His Bride, the Church, He sees her radiant at times, weary at others, and often wounded by forgetting her own humanity. Yet He calls her back to the simplicity of His own Incarnation, when God chose to dwell in flesh, to labor with hands calloused by wood, to thirst and to embrace. For without this remembrance, the Church risks being admired as a monument from afar but never loved as a mother up close. But when she allows His humanity to shine through her, she becomes tender again—able to gather her children, forgive with mercy, and console with warmth. Clothed in Christ’s humility, she draws the world not by power but by compassion, and flourishes as Bride and Mother, radiant in truth and love (cf. Jn 4:6; CCC 460).
The Bible reveals again and again that God works through humanity. Abraham welcomed strangers with bread and water; Ruth clung to her mother-in-law in poverty; David’s kingship was shaped through tears of repentance (cf. Gen 18; Ruth 1; Ps 51). In the Gospels, fishermen drop their nets, a tax collector leaves his desk, and a sinner bathes Jesus’ feet in tears. None of them were perfect, yet they became vessels of grace. Paul does not hide his weakness—he even glories in it—for he knows that it is precisely there, in the fragile places of his life, that the power and radiance of Christ break through (cf. 2 Cor 12:10). This is the paradox Our Lord points to: the Church will not flourish by hiding fragility, but by allowing His strength to blaze through it. Humanity, with all its struggles, is not a problem to be solved but the place where God chooses to meet us.
Doctors of the Church reiterate that genuine revitalization comes from incarnate humility, Saint Teresa of Ávila shows us that holiness does not start with visions or ecstasies. It starts with faithfulness to the smallest tasks of daily life. For her, carrying a mop or enduring a difficult sister in the convent could be as pleasing to God as hours of prayer. Saint Frances de Sales also testified to this, stating that devotion is not for cloisters or altars but for everyday living—devotion is for the home, the market stall, and even the busy court. Both saints reveal that sanctity is born where life is most human, where grace transforms the simple into the eternal. Saint Catherine of Siena reminded Popes and princes that reform is achieved not by worldly strategies, but by returning to the pierced Heart of Christ. In every age, saints have embodied the humanity Our Lord desires: Francis of Assisi embracing lepers, Vincent de Paul lifting up orphans, and Mother Teresa cradling the dying. Their greatness lay not in programs but in humanity suffused with grace. When the Church imitates them, she becomes credible, magnetic, and radiant. As Pope Francis used to repeat, the clergy and faithful alike must cultivate the “closeness, compassion, and tenderness” of Christ—signs of His humanity alive in us.
Our Lord’s call to humanity exposes the danger of clericalism, formalism, and spiritual elitism. A Church that loses touch with ordinary life cannot mediate Christ to the world. But Our Lord also shows us the unhuman ways that suffocate His Bride. She becomes unhuman when bishops hide behind titles and do not weep with the abused; when parishes feel more like offices than families; when sermons become cold lectures without touching the heart; when the poor are pushed aside because they disturb comfort. She is unhuman when she is afraid of tears, allergic to weakness, or obsessed with appearances. Yet she becomes human again when a priest spends the night at a hospital bed, when a parish welcomes the addict without shame, when a community forgives instead of condemning, when leaders admit mistakes and kneel to wash feet. Humanity means warmth, humility, listening, presence. It is the Church carrying Christ into rescue centers, refugee camps, rehabilitation centers, and prisons. It is the Church saying, “I will not abandon you” in a world that abandons too quickly.
This Divine Appeal carries the weight of both judgment and promise. It judges, for it exposes how we have often reduced the Church to mere appearances—an institution more concerned with power, status, and structures than with the living pulse of love. Yet it also promises, for hidden within this piercing light is the assurance of renewal. Our Adorable Jesus reminds us that the path back to life is not complicated: it is the path of returning to humanity—humility, tenderness, mercy. If we embrace this, His grace will once again flood His Bride, making her flourish in holiness and truth. It calls the Church to abandon rigid masks, worldly pride, and institutional coldness, and to rediscover humanity as the dwelling place of God (cf. CCC 520). To be human is not to lower the Gospel but to incarnate it more faithfully. The path forward is illuminated by the Holy Family of Nazareth, the compassion of Christ at Calvary, and the fidelity of Mary and John who remained beneath the Cross. In a fractured world marked by depersonalization and division, the Church will flourish only by radiating the tenderness of Christ’s Sacred Humanity. To recover humanity is to recover credibility, holiness, and mission. To neglect it is to risk sterility. But to embrace it is to walk the very path God Himself chose in the Word made flesh.
Prayer
O Adorable Jesus, teach Your Church how to be tender again. Break our pride, melt away our coldness, and give us hearts that can cry with others, forgive quickly, and hold one another with love. Let our simple humanity, touched by Your grace, become the home of Your presence. Make Your Bride live again in compassion, humility, and truth. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
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