The Cross reminds us

This Sunday’s Gospel for the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, celebrated universally in the Church, includes perhaps the most well-known Bible verse. Which Christian does not know John 3:16, “Yes, God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost but have eternal life.”

It is central to the Christian story—and it cut through today’s headlines like a sharp blade.

The Gaza enclave lies in ruins under Israeli bombardment. Ukraine counts its dead as trenches widen and winter looms. Haiti bleeds from violence, rape and hunger; Sudan teeters on the edge of a forgotten catastrophe, and countless smaller wars and injustices fester in silence.

The world, exhausted and cynical, looks on as those with military might wield their power.

And yet John reminds us that God’s love is not partial. It is not bounded by race, politics, or religion. “God loved the world…”

Not a corner of it. Not the powerful.

Not those who happen to be on the ‘right’ side of history.

The entire world.

This radical universality challenges every attempt to dehumanise an enemy or reduce human suffering to collateral damage.

Jubilee must be lived

The Church’s Jubilee Year, rooted in Scripture, is meant to be a season of mercy, reconciliation, and renewal. In biblical tradition, a jubilee was a time when debts were forgiven, captives freed, and land restored. It was a recognition that human life can’t survive without periodic resets of justice. If there were ever a time when the world needed such a reset, it is now.

But jubilee cannot just be a liturgical pageant or a Vatican ceremony. It must be a lived challenge to nations, leaders, and ordinary believers.

What does jubilee look like in Gaza? Perhaps it means a ceasefire that allows food and medicine in, and give children a chance to live without fear, without having to cower and tremble as an Israel missile whistles overhead.

What does it look like in Ukraine? A commitment to genuine diplomacy, however painful, that values life above territorial pride. It means no more Russian drone attacks in the dead of night.

In Haiti? It may mean international solidarity that supports civil society rather than propping up gangs or corrupt elites. In Sudan? The insistence that refugee lives are not expendable.

And John’s Gospel also insists that God sent His only Begotten Son into the world, “not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved.”

Too often, Christians slip into the language of condemnation—of who is guilty, who is cursed, who deserves immediate punishment. The Jubilee reminds us that God’s movement is always toward liberation, restoration, and mercy.

For believers, the call is clear: if we claim to follow the One lifted up on the Cross, we cannot turn away from those crucified by war, poverty, and indifference today.

A Jubilee Year is not about nostalgia for past glories. It is about deciding whether we will embody God’s reckless, universal love in a broken world.

The wars will not end overnight. But jubilee begins when the Church refuses neutrality in the face of suffering, when Christians live as if God’s love is bigger than borders, and when we dare to believe that mercy—not violence—has the last word.