Divine Appeal Reflection - 2
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 2: "If I were to tell you the number of sins which are committed each day you would die of pain."
Every sin is not merely a breach of law but a wound inflicted on a Heart that loves without measure. In Scripture, prophets often stood aghast at Israel’s betrayal, lamenting that God’s vineyard yielded only sour grapes instead of justice (cf. Is 5:2–7). Saint Paul trembled at the mystery of iniquity already unfolding in the world (cf. 2 Thes 2:7). He recognized that sin is never an isolated act, but a power that seeks to distort creation and corrupt the communion of believers. The Catechism affirms this truth: sin is at once personal rebellion and a communal wound that disfigures the Body of Christ (cf. CCC 953). The saints felt this with burning clarity. Catherine of Siena lamented that the sins of priests inflicted deeper wounds upon Christ’s Mystical Body, and Padre Pio bore invisible stripes as reparation for the faithlessness of many.
To live this Divine Appeal is to refuse indifference. We are called to let our hearts grow tender, capable of mourning with Christ over the sins of the age—corruption in politics, exploitation of the poor, divisions in the Church, and the silent apostasy of indifference. However, grief is not hopelessness. Like Mary standing beneath the Cross or Moses pleading for Israel (cf. Ex 32:11–14), it turns into intercession. This entails being vigilant against our own sin, bearing testimony bravely against evil in society, and making amends through acts of mercy, prayer, and Eucharistic adoration. To ignore sin is to numb love; to grieve with Christ is to share in His redemption. The holy ones of the early Church carried this burden: St. Monica wept daily for Augustine’s soul, and the martyrs offered their deaths to repair the scandal of apostasy. We, too, are called to grieve sin not abstractly but concretely—beginning in our families, communities, and hidden lives of prayer.
The hidden pain of Jesus echoes His tears over Jerusalem: “If you had known the things that make for peace” (cf. Lk 19:42). Sin blinds humanity to peace, and the more widespread it becomes, the more it normalizes rebellion against God. Saints like Francis of Assisi perceived this truth so deeply that they wept at the mere thought of love spurned. The early desert fathers would spend nights in vigil, interceding for cities that mocked God. This is not emotional excess; it is the sharing in Christ’s priestly heart. The Catechism affirms that the baptized share in Christ’s priesthood by offering themselves as spiritual sacrifices (cf. CCC 901). To live this practically today means refusing to trivialize sin—whether gossip, dishonesty, exploitation of the poor, or indifference to prayer—and instead turning such awareness into intercession. Parents can pray with tears for children who have strayed. Entrusted souls must suffer silently for their flock. Workers can repair sins of greed by honest labor. Students can intercede for peers tempted by despair or rebellion. To live this appeal is to become “living hosts,” small souls who silently carry the weight of others before God.
In Divine Appeal 2, the warning is not given to destroy us but to awaken us to collaboration with His redeeming work. Jesus bore the sins of all upon the Cross, yet He invites His disciples to continue His work of intercession (cf. Col 1:24). This mystery—the invitation to complete what is lacking—is not because His sacrifice was insufficient, but because His love desires co-lovers who participate. The saints understood this partnership: St. Thérèse of Lisieux embraced her “little way” precisely as an offering for sinners, hidden in silence but powerful in heaven. The early Church, gathered in catacombs, was less concerned about preserving their own lives and more about keeping alive the witness of holiness amid widespread pagan sin. For us, this means rethinking suffering, not as misfortune but as mission. If someone mocks our faith, we can offer it for those mocking Christ. If workplace corruption burdens us, our integrity can become silent reparation. If family discord wounds us, patient forgiveness becomes a balm for the wounds of Christ’s mystical body. In each hidden act, the flood of sins meets the secret stream of mercy.
Yet this appeal is not only about sorrow but about hope. Jesus reveals the enormity of sin not to drown us in despair but to draw forth greater trust in His mercy. Where sin abounds, grace abounds more (cf. Rom 5:20). The Catechism assures us that God permits sin only to draw a greater good from it (cf. CCC 412).Our purpose is to amplify mercy rather than to focus on the number of sins. Saints like Augustine are living witnesses: once lost in sin, now shining as Doctors of the Church. Peter denied Christ, yet became the rock of faith. The first person to proclaim the Resurrection was Mary Magdalene, who cried at Jesus' feet after being chained by sin (cf. Jn 20:2018). For where sin abounds, grace abounds even more (cf. Rom 5:20). The saints echo this: Augustine confessed that his misery became the place where Christ’s glory triumphed; Faustina learned that her frailty became the very throne of Divine Mercy (cf. Diary 1485).
This means hastening to the sacrament of Reconciliation, where wounds are washed in Christ’s blood (cf. CCC 1422). It means lingering in Eucharistic adoration, offering reparation for the sins of the world, as Catherine of Siena did in prayer. And it means practicing works of mercy wherever sin multiplies, because charity is the fire that dispels darkness. In today’s culture of corruption, violence, and moral confusion, Christians are summoned to be light—perhaps flickering, yet unwavering. Even the smallest flame, when kept faithful, resists the abyss of despair. Mary Magdalene shows us: those who have been forgiven much are called to love much, until mercy becomes their very witness in the world.Jesus longs not for our perfection but for our willingness to console Him and to heal the wounds of His Mystical Body by fidelity, prayer, and charity. Each “yes” we give repairs countless hidden “nos” uttered daily against Him.
Prayer
Adorable Jesus, You embrace our frailty yet grieve when we freely resist Your love. Teach us to see weakness as the place of encounter, not despair, and sin as the wound to be healed, not excused. Through Your mercy, may our wills yield completely, and our souls become vessels of Your gifts. Amen
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
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