Dear friends in Christ,
I still remember a moment from my childhood that left a lasting imprint on my heart. One afternoon, while playing ball with some friends, I accidentally shattered a neighbor’s window. Fear gripped me. I imagined the worst—yelling, punishment, shame. But instead, the neighbor calmly walked over to me with a broom in his hand and said, “Don’t worry, let’s clean this up together.” That moment taught me something I would only fully understand years later: mercy disarms fear, and grace always offers a fresh start.
As a priest, I’ve heard countless stories in the confessional and in quiet moments of counseling—stories of pain, resentment, guilt, and shame that have clung to people’s hearts for years, sometimes decades. I’ve seen how the past can become a prison. Wounds once inflicted—by others or by ourselves—can fester, leading to present brokenness. So many struggle to believe they are worthy of healing, forgiveness, or peace.
On this Fifth Sunday of Lent, however, the Word of God speaks with power and tenderness to that very wound. Through the prophet Isaiah, God declares: “Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!” (Is 43:16-21). Our God is not bound by our history. He is not fixated on where we’ve been, but where we’re going. And in the Gospel, when the adulterous woman is dragged before Jesus—caught in the very act of sin—he does not dwell on her shame. Instead, he offers her a future: “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on do not sin any more.” (Jn 8:11).
This is the heart of Jesus’ Good News: the Lord is more interested in our present and our potential than in our past. He does not want to bind us to what we can no longer change but wants us to focus on what we can, at this moment. He is not the accuser—He is the Redeemer. St. Paul, too, echoes this when he speaks from personal experience. In his letter to the Philippians, he declares that he forgets what lies behind and strains forward to what lies ahead—to win the prize of Christ Jesus (cf. Phil 3:8-14). What courage! What freedom!
Pope Francis reminds us: “The Lord never tires of forgiving. It is we who tire of asking for forgiveness” (Homily, March 17, 2013). This gift of mercy, however, comes with a call: we must become forgiving people, too. Jesus showed inexhaustible compassion by dying for our sins—yet how often do we become Pharisees, quick to pass judgment and slow to show grace? How easily we spread gossip, shake our heads at the unmarried mother, the alcoholic, the drug addict, or the shoplifter. We forget Jesus’ command, and His challenge: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone” (Jn 8:7).
We must learn to hate the sin but love the sinner—just as Jesus did. And let us also remember: we have no right to judge others. We often commit the very faults we condemn. We are partial, prejudiced, and unaware of the wounds that led someone into sin. So let us leave judgment to God, who alone sees the heart. Let us instead offer compassion, remembering that we too are sinners in need of grace.
Today, I invite you to spend a few quiet minutes in prayer with that Gospel scene. Imagine yourself in the place of that woman. Hear Jesus speak those words to you. Then, ask Him: “Lord, what new thing do you desire to do in me?” Take one concrete step—perhaps to change a bad habit; befriend someone you’ve judged; reconcile with a person who have hurt you; return to the Sacrament of Reconciliation; or to release an old wound you’ve allowed to define you for too long.
Let this Lent be the time you finally let go—and let God make all things new.
With hope and blessing,
Msgr. Cuong M. Pham