This year, once again, we are granted a precious opportunity to prepare ourselves to commemorate the profound mystery of Jesus’ death and resurrection, a mystery that lies at the very heart of our personal and communal Christian life. This paschal mystery is not a distant event confined to history; rather, it is a living reality that demands our constant return, both in thought and in spirit. It grows within us to the extent that we open ourselves to its transformative power, responding with freedom and generosity. The joy of being a Christian springs from hearing and embracing the Good News—the kerygma—that reveals the depth of God’s love through Christ’s sacrifice. This love is so real, so tangible, that it calls us into a relationship of trust and meaningful dialogue. To believe in this message is to reject the deception that our lives belong solely to us, to use as we please. Instead, we come to see that life flows from the boundless love of God, who desires to grant us abundance.

Yet, there is a stark contrast when we turn away from this truth. If we heed the seductive whispers of the “father of lies,” we risk falling into a void of meaninglessness, a kind of earthly hell that manifests itself in the countless tragedies of human experience—personal struggles and collective horrors alike. In this season of Lent, I am reminded of words I once shared with young people: to keep our gaze fixed on the crucified Christ, to allow ourselves to be saved repeatedly by His mercy. When we approach confession, we must trust in His forgiveness that lifts the burden of guilt. We are invited to contemplate the blood He shed out of love and let it purify us, offering the chance to be reborn anew. The power of the Holy Spirit makes Jesus’ Pasch ever-present, allowing us to encounter Him in the suffering of others, touching with faith the wounds of Christ in the world around us.

This season urges us toward conversion, a turning of the heart that cannot be delayed. God’s mercy, revealed through the paschal mystery, becomes real to us only when we stand face-to-face with the crucified and risen Lord, who loved us so deeply that He gave Himself for us. Prayer, then, becomes essential—not as a mere obligation, but as a heartfelt response to the love that precedes and upholds us. Christians pray not out of worthiness, but out of the certainty that we are loved despite our flaws. Prayer takes many forms, but its true value lies in its ability to pierce our hardened hearts, breaking down the barriers that keep us from aligning ourselves with God’s will. Lent is a graced time, a desert journey where, like Israel of old, we are led to hear the voice of our divine Spouse. The more we immerse ourselves in His word, the more we experience His freely given mercy. We must not squander this opportunity, clinging to the illusion that we can dictate the timing or manner of our transformation.

That God offers us this season of conversion anew is a gift we should never take for granted. It should stir in us a profound gratitude and shake us from complacency. Evil may cast its shadow over our lives, the Church, and the world, yet this time of grace reflects God’s unyielding desire to maintain a dialogue of salvation with us. In the crucified Jesus, who bore our sins despite His innocence, we see the Father’s will to save us—a will so intense that it turns God against Himself in an act of ultimate love. This dialogue God seeks is not idle talk, like the superficial curiosity of those who chase novelty for its own sake. Such emptiness defines the worldliness of every age, and today it often finds a home in the misuse of media, where substance is traded for fleeting distraction.

To place the paschal mystery at the center of our lives is to feel compassion for the wounds of Christ, wounds that persist in the innocent victims of war, in the attacks on life from the unborn to the elderly, and in the countless forms of violence that plague humanity. These wounds are evident in environmental devastation, in the unjust distribution of resources, in human trafficking, and in the insatiable greed that turns profit into an idol. Today, we are called to share our abundance with those in need, not to hoard it selfishly. Almsgiving is more than an act of charity—it is a step toward becoming more human, breaking free from the chains of self-interest. But we must go further, addressing the deeper structures of our economic life. This is why, in the midst of Lent this year, I have called together young economists, entrepreneurs, and advocates for change to gather in Assisi from March 26 to 28. Together, we will seek to build an economy rooted in justice and inclusion, reflecting the spirit of the Beatitudes. Political and economic life, when lived with this evangelical vision, become exalted forms of charity.

The journey of Lent invites us to hear God’s call to reconciliation, to fix our eyes on the paschal mystery, and to open ourselves to an honest conversation with Him. In doing so, we become what Christ calls us to be: salt of the earth and light of the world. This transformation is not for ourselves alone—it is a richness to be shared. The mercy we receive compels us to extend it to others, to see in the suffering of our neighbors the face of the crucified Lord. We cannot remain indifferent to the cries of the marginalized or the groans of a wounded creation. Our conversion must bear fruit in action, in a generosity that mirrors the self-giving love of Christ.

As we walk this Lenten path, I turn to Mary, the Mother of God, asking her to intercede for us. May she guide us to hear God’s voice more clearly, to let it echo within us, and to respond with hearts fully alive to His mercy. This season is a gift—a chance to be renewed, to shed the illusions that bind us, and to embrace the dialogue of love that God offers through His Son. Let us not allow this time to slip away unnoticed, but seize it with courage and faith, trusting that in the mystery of the cross and resurrection, we find the source of our life and our hope. In this way, we will step into the fullness of what it means to be followers of Christ, bearers of His light in a world that so desperately needs it.