Lenten Reflections

Recently, our parish had a Lenten Retreat series based on the Jubilee Year Theme, “Pilgrims of Hope.” One evening, we were invited to reflect on hope with these questions:

Where did you find hope in suffering? 

During this Jubilee Year, what small actions can you take to be a sign of hope for others?

📖 Scripture to Pray With:

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” — Romans 5:5

As I prayed with these questions, I recalled some of the crosses I carried for many years. My dad was killed a day before the fall of Saigon in 1975 when I was nine. Then came our escape from Vietnam in 1980 and the challenge of starting over in America at age 14, with only my older brother beside me.

Back then, I didn’t know how to face my suffering. I escaped through studies, fun, and church activities—but that could only last so long. After college, I felt lost and confused. I couldn’t yet say, “hope does not disappoint us.” But in that darkness, God surprised me.

One day, I learned my family had escaped and made it to Malaysia. After ten years apart, we were reunited. I still remember the tears and joy of hearing their voices again. That moment was pure hope.

Later, in 1991, I returned to Vietnam to see my mom and siblings. I finally got to call someone “mẹ/ mom” and hear “con/ my son.” That healing brought deep peace.

Not long after, I made an Ignatian Retreat—not knowing what to expect. But through confession, I experienced a profound healing. I felt like I was coming home to God and to myself.

There is Easter after all. Now I can truly say:

“And hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” — Romans 5:5

May this Easter hope continue to heal and carry us on our pilgrimage of life.

🌍 Pilgrims of Hope: A Final Reflection

As this series ends, we carry with us more than stories—we carry resurrection.

Let us go forward as Pilgrims of Hope, grounded in the love of Christ, and ready to be living signs of God’s promise to a weary world.

Fr. Manh Tran, SJ

The season of Lent and Jesus' life has come full circle.

I have been meditating on the birth and death of Jesus. One particular detail that stood out to me is the clothing worn in both of these events. In his birth, Jesus was wrapped in swaddling cloths. The cloth was typically made of linen and was intended to keep the baby warm, protected, and feel secure. In his death, Jesus was also wrapped in linen cloths, with a separate cloth used for his head. Here, the cloth was used primarily for preserving the body.

As Jesus was born, he was cleansed with water, dried with a towel, then wrapped in the swaddling cloths in the arms of a loving mother. In stark contrast, before Jesus was buried, he was brutally bruised and tortured, and nailed to cross for the love of us all. In preparation for his burial, his body was thoroughly cleansed, the nails were cleaned and removed, spices and myrrh to preserve and honor the body, and he was finally wrapped in the linen cloths.

This made me think about how I was born and how caring my parents were in making sure I was safe, secure, and loved. I was born with a number of complications but most importantly, I was surrounded by those who cared the most for me. Thanks to my parents, friends, and family, I am lucky and grateful to experience glimpses of God's tender and nurturing love.

This also made me think about how I want to die, and how I am called to live the remainder of my life through the example of Jesus. This year, I am actually turning 33 which I have joked to others that it is my "Jesus year". I have been blessed with a life full of experiences, both lifegiving and challenging. To be honest, I have not lived many of the joyful experiences with gratitude and humility. I have also not suffered through many of the painful experiences with grace, patience, and trust. But with every event, and through my ever-growing relationship with Jesus, my heart has been able to align more and more with his. We are born surrounded by love to live and even die for the love of others.

“We are born surrounded by love to live and even die for the love of others.”

Jesus, you were born in swaddling cloths, and died wrapped in linen, with the same humility. Please renew my heart and guide me to live the remainder of my life with love at the center, bearing my cross with patience, trust and humility, and to trust that all I do is not in vain, but in glory of God the Father. We started the Lenten season with the phrase "For you are dust, and to dust you shall return." We end with "I no longer call you slaves... I have called you friends." Help me to understand your heart and desire for friendship. Amen.

Dan Nguyen

Ignis

A Mother's Strength in Sorrow

At this moment we can see how great and amazing Our Mother is —
she is the perfect example of Faith, Hope, and Charity.

When her Son, her God, has just died in front of her,
she keeps faithful to the Lord.
She is filled with hope, and she loves with great love.

The Embrace That Holds the Church

When Mary embraces Jesus' body after He is taken down from the Cross,
she embraces Jesus,
and by embracing Him,
she embraces us — the Church — as the Body of Christ.

When the Church is hurting,
or when it seems like there's no hope because of all the bad things that are happening,
we can trust that Mary is there.

She is embracing her child,
and she will keep faith and hope that God is always with us
and will not abandon His people.

A Prayer to Mary

Mary, model of Christian Love,
teach us to have faith like you in moments of great despair,
to keep hope in moments where it seems like there's nothing left for us,
and to always love with great love,
especially in moments of great trial.

Trinidad Kellemen

Blueberry Angeles, Newman Center UCSD

Yet, Christ turned death from an ending of a novel into an ending of a chapter, or a prologue even! Death is something we all must face, but we only need to face it once. Adam and Eve really messed up when they had a really good thing going on. It was because of their sin, that we have inherited that same fate of needing to suffer death in the world. However, only God can turn things around and make good out of anything. God the Father sent His only Son to save us from Death. He did this by conquering death, Himself. Out of His infinite mercy and boundless love, He experienced death in order to make it only a passageway; a doorway into eternal life. That doorway is made of wood too, and it is the cross. Christ died on the cross to shed His blood on the wooden doorway that once only opened to death, but now opens to the possibility of eternal life with Him. It is up to us how we prepare ourselves for the cross and to where our death will lead us next.

How did I come to these thoughts? With much reflection over each Lent I have gone through in life, as well as all the pains, sufferings, and tribulations I have endured through so far. I have noticed that when it hurts the most, when we suffer the most, and when we feel we have hit rock bottom, that is the moment of death that we always experience. From there on, we get back up and are able to move forward, seeing that the “death” we experience only really lasted mere moments in the grand scheme of things.

I have noticed that with every relationship broken, every bad news received, and every disappointment and upset that happens after a build up of hope, we experience a form of death. Death hurts, and it is unavoidable. That hurt does not last forever. That’s the point too. That hurt, pain, and intense desolation does not, will not, and can never last forever. Christ made it so with His death on the cross. That was the ultimate death, the one that abolished sin, and allowed mercy to rain – and reign.  This is where hope comes in, and it is what we need as Catholics to bring to the world through Christ. He is our only Hope.

Death, particularly Christ’s death on the cross deserves the reverence and respect for what it is: the perfect sacrifice to pay for a debt none of can ever repay. Christ’s death is our new beginning.

Frank Vuong

ExCo

There’s a finality to that imagery of being nailed to a cross. It’s almost the same as the saying, “putting a nail on a coffin.”

When Jesus was praying at the Mount of Olives, Jesus pleaded to God not to forsake Him, yet still He chose to follow His Father. Even after each of the three times He fell, Jesus still chose to continue three more times all the same. At each of these moments of difficulty and pain, God the Father stood next to Him, encountering Jesus again and again at each turn. But when it came time to be bound and nailed to the cross, the choice was no longer His to make. His hands and feet were bound by guards and finally nailed to the cross.

All that’s left is just surrender…

There’s no more willingness left. The choice was made for you. You are bound and there is nowhere left but to surrender. The end. Right? And yet there are still four more stations left… Meaning four more chances to encounter God until we finally encounter Him for eternity.

As an engineer, my job requires me to make tools, processes, and mechanisms to fix any problem no matter how tall. I’m to use clever ways to solve every problem imaginable. And yet there are still times when hard work and clever ways won’t work, and failure is inevitable.

Lord, there were so many times when everything became too much to bear. In those times, it feels like choices were made for us or things were unseemingly thrust upon us. It is in those times You are closest to us. Lord, I pray that I may encounter You in those times. Lord, I pray that I encounter You again and again and as many times as it takes, especially in those times of suffering, until I may rest in You for eternity. Amen.

Huy Nguyen

Ignis

"He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant." (Philippians 2:7)

As Jesus arrives at Golgotha, the soldiers strip Him of His garments—exposing Him, humiliating Him, and leaving Him with nothing.

Three key reflections on this moment, as highlighted by José Antonio Pagola:

1. The Suffering of Jesus: A Deeper Pain

The agony of the Cross is more than physical suffering. Jesus experiences total humiliation.

He stands, beaten and vulnerable, with nothing left but love. This is the depth of His sacrifice.

2. Jesus Identifies with the Poor and Marginalized

By being stripped of everything, Jesus becomes one with those who have lost everything.

• The homeless who have no shelter.

• The oppressed who are robbed of their dignity.

• The forgotten who feel unseen by the world.

In this moment, Jesus stands in solidarity with them all.

3. The Call to Authentic Discipleship

"Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Me." (Matthew 16:24)

To truly follow Jesus, we, too, must be stripped—not physically, but spiritually.

• Stripped of the need for status or control.

• Stripped of attachments that keep us from loving freely.

• Stripped of fear, so we can surrender fully to God’s will.

A Prayer for Surrender

🙏 Lord Jesus, in Your suffering, You embraced humility and love.
💙 Teach me to let go of anything that keeps me from You.
🌍 Help me to see the suffering around me and respond with compassion.

Amen.

Maria Calvo-Llovera

S. Florida Young Adult CLC

"He had neither beauty nor majesty… He was despised and rejected, a man of suffering, familiar with pain." (Isaiah 53:2-3)

A few months ago, after talking with my spiritual director, I began working on my childhood wounds—wounds that had caused painful disruptions in my adult life. At first, I didn’t believe I could change.

How could I fight something I had never been able to handle?

Every attempt I had made before ended in failure, so I stopped trying. I was afraid. Afraid I would fall again. I saw only failure in myself and believed that there was no hope for me.

Jesus, My Brave Warrior

How amazing it is that Jesus did not give up. He went all the way to the end, even though He fell several times.

Hungry, tired, beaten, bleeding—He didn’t even have shoes to protect His feet from sharp stones. And yet, He walked to the end.

Jesus, my brave Warrior.

A Prayer for Those Who Struggle

In this Station, I pray for:

• Addicts, that they may find in Jesus the strength to get up after every fall.

• Their families and loved ones, that they may see them as children of God with dignity.

• Our society, that we may be more compassionate, understanding that addiction is an illness, not a failure.

Jesus fell three times, but He always got up.

May we find the courage to do the same.

Weronika Jóźwiak

Polish CLC of Young Adults

"Do not weep for me; weep for yourselves and for your children." (Luke 23:28)

I think I'm weeping because I made Him suffer for me—because I failed to recognize the signs He sent, calling me to be His religious daughter. I ignored them, feeling like I wasn’t enough. And now, I feel like I’m facing the consequences. – Dominica Kim

Is it possible for someone to truly deserve so much hate? He is someone's son, someone's friend… and yet the crowd cheers for His death.

And yet, how many times have I:

• Promoted condescension?

• Harbored wishes for someone’s downfall?

• Stayed silent when others were mistreated?

I weep for Jesus’ unjust and undeserved suffering. But perhaps I also weep knowing that my heart is capable of the same hatred that weighs down on Jesus now.

💙 Jesus, I need Your grace to purify my shallow, broken heart. Let it die with You on the cross, and rise again transformed by Your unconditional love. – Bethany Vu

Witnessing Suffering, Hearing His Call

The times when I least expect to hear Jesus are in moments when I witness His suffering in others or in conflict around me. I feel for my friends and my community… but do I miss what He is trying to show me? – John Tran

Being a Source of Hope

When I think about Station 8, I see Jesus showing incredible empathy by comforting the women of Jerusalem, even while carrying His own cross. It inspires me to ask myself:

💭 How can I be present for others in their pain?

Not as someone weighed down by their struggles, but as a source of hope. Pope Francis calls us to be Pilgrims of Hope—to share Christ’s love through kindness, understanding, and strength. By doing so, I can help others see that brighter days are possible, no matter how heavy their burdens may seem. – Anonymous

Lately, I often find myself collapsing into my bed at the dead of night, exhausted from the day’s events. I think of all the things I hadn’t been able to finish or do adequately, as well as all the things I still need to do. When my alarm incessantly rings early the next morning, it takes everything in me to get up and face a new day.

Perhaps this shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Between classes, activities, and other stressors, college has not been a flowery path. I worry I am spreading myself too thin—emotionally, academically, and spiritually.

Every Lenten season, I think of how Jesus took up the Cross for our sins, and how, in spite of falling twice, He focused on His Father’s ultimate plan for humanity and persevered. The Lord has already demonstrated His love for us despite our sins and failures—we only need to take His hand to find rest in Him.

It is this unconditional love that I see in my Muoi prayer group, my friends, my family, my peers, and everyone around me. It is this unconditional love that anchors me when I struggle. It is this unconditional love that gives me hope and courage to continue carrying out His will in everything I do.

Just as Jesus picks Himself back up despite His struggles, I’ll keep trying. And with His help, I’ll keep walking on this path toward Him.

Laura Dinh

Dong Hanh Southwest

I have a vivid memory from early elementary school when I played St. Veronica in a short skit during Sunday School. I was very shy growing up and, therefore, I wasn’t too happy about being cast as a named role. I didn’t want all the other kids’ eyes on me. I also didn’t want to touch the face of the boy playing Jesus because I held a very strong conviction that all boys had cooties.

Despite my misgivings, I didn’t want to be labeled a troublemaker, so I went along with the skit and played my part.

I could have learned a lot from St. Veronica about when to let go of anxieties and judgments and, instead, lead with my heart.

💛 St. Veronica held so much love in her heart that she did not care about the unwanted attention her act of care would subject her to. 

Despite everyone around her jeering at Jesus, she did not judge Him. Despite His humble clothing and beaten-down appearance, St. Veronica never judged Him. Instead, she saw His heart, and without any regard for how her action might affect her, she stepped forward and cleansed His face.

This act was one of sympathy and selflessness. In that moment, she did not think about herself or what others would think. She let herself be guided by selfless love.

St. Veronica was not worried about “cooties” or being seen as a “troublemaker.” She was not anxious about standing out. She trusted God’s plan for her. By trusting God and showing her face, she was able to preserve the face of Christ.

A Prayer for Lent

🙏 This Lent, I pray for:
💛 Compassion
😊 Positivity
✨ Humility
🤲 Selflessness
💪 Strength to lead with love

Veronica Koutsky

Faith +1 Newman UCSD CLC

“As they led him away, they seized Simon of Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.” — Luke 23:26

As a young adult, it often feels like I'm juggling a million things at once — school, work, relationships, figuring out what I want to do with my life. It can feel like there’s always a lot on my plate, and sometimes, the weight of everything starts to feel overwhelming. There are days when I feel like I’m carrying a cross that’s just too heavy to bear. And in those moments, I can’t help but feel like Jesus did, like no one fully understands or sees the struggle.

In the 5th Station of the Cross, Simon of Cyrene is pulled into an unexpected situation. He was just minding his own business, going about his day, when out of nowhere, he was forced to help Jesus carry the cross. He wasn’t prepared, and it definitely wasn’t part of his plan. But despite all of that, he helped. Simon stepped in and carried the cross for Jesus, even when it wasn’t convenient.

This moment reminds me that life often throws things at us that we’re not prepared for — situations and struggles that we didn’t see coming. Sometimes, it feels like we’re asked to carry a burden that’s too heavy. And sometimes, like Simon, I’m called to help someone else carry their load, even if I’m not ready or if it’s not part of my plan.

This Lent, I’m reflecting on the times when I’ve had to step in and help someone else, even when I was dealing with my own stuff. Maybe it was being there for a friend who was going through a tough time or offering support to someone who needed it. There’s something powerful in helping others, especially when it’s inconvenient. 

It’s also a reminder that I’m not alone in my struggles. Jesus didn’t walk that path by Himself — He had Simon to help carry His cross. And I’m reminded that I don’t have to carry my cross alone either. Jesus is with me, and I can lean on others when the weight feels too heavy.

The 5th Station invites me to be there for others — to help them carry their burdens, just as Simon did for Jesus. It also reminds me that I can lean on others when I need help, knowing that Jesus is always with me, walking beside me.

This Lent, I want to think about the times I’ve had to carry a heavy load, and also about the times when I’ve been able to help someone else with theirs. Life can be tough, but I’m not meant to face it alone. 

I’m called to walk alongside others, and they’re called to walk with me. Together, we can carry the load.

John-Paul Vu

Ignis

It has been two years since my grandma passed, yet some days, the grief feels just as fresh as if it happened yesterday. No one can ever truly be prepared for the loss of a loved one, but I certainly was not ready.

When she was hospitalized, the prognosis was grim, but I clung to even the smallest glimmer of hope, praying for a miracle—that God would restore her, make her whole again.

I remember sitting by her bedside, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, while across from me, my grandpa gripped his rosary, his fingers pressing into each bead as if his prayers could physically hold her here a little longer. In that moment, I felt utterly helpless.

There was nothing I could do but entrust everything into Mary’s hands—pleading for my grandma’s healing, or if that was not God’s will, trusting that Mary herself was holding my grandma as she journeyed home.

Mary’s Presence in Suffering

Even now, grief still lingers. It settled in my heart before she even passed—knowing what was to come, but not knowing how to bear it. And I wonder—

Was this how Mary felt when she met Jesus on the way to Calvary?

Did her heart ache with the same anguish, knowing the inevitable was near, yet still holding onto faith that God’s plan was greater than the suffering before her?

A Witness to Hope

Mary’s silent presence with Jesus teaches me something about grief and love.

She did not turn away. She remained.

And in remaining, she became a witness to hope—not the kind of hope that denies suffering, but the kind that walks through it, believing that love has the final word.

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Matthew 5:4)

A Prayer for Those Who Grieve

That same hope carries me today.

🌿 The hope that my grandma is at peace.
🌿 The hope that, in my own grief, God is near.
🌿 The hope that Mary, too, walks with me as I navigate both sorrow and motherhood.

I pray for the grace to embody her steadfast love and trust in God’s promise, even when the weight of loss feels unbearable.

And I pray for all who grieve, that the love our departed ones imprinted on our hearts may always lead us back into the tender arms of Jesus.

Tami Nguyen- Tran

Ignis

At my workplace, I frequently face difficult situations that leave me feeling underprepared. No matter how much effort I put in, mistakes happen. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by expectations, trapped by perfectionism, and anxious over the smallest errors.

Whenever I pray about Jesus’s first fall, I think about His humanity. Here is the Son of God, at His weakest, collapsing under the weight of our sins that make His cross heavier. Yet, what strikes me is not just the moment He falls—but what happens next.

🌿 After His first fall, we see His Mother, Simon, and Veronica. Each offering comfort, support, and love—small but meaningful reminders that His suffering had purpose.

This reminds me to look past my failures and recognize how God is reaching out to me. Even when my mistakes feel overwhelming, there is always something to learn, someone to help me rise again, something to look forward to.

It is through my own falls that my journey becomes worthwhile.

As it is through trusting in God that my perceived failures become bearable.

This Lent, I pray for resilience—that even when I fall or find myself in anxiety, uncertainty, or loneliness, I can look past the darkness and recognize how God is offering me support to help me rise again.

I pray that I can see how my mistakes and failures can become a source of strength, leading me forward in faith and hope, knowing that God is always by my side.

📖 “Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong.” – 2 Corinthians 12:9

Anna Hoang

It is very loud. The crowd is shouting. I want to talk to them, convince them that they are wrong, explain to them that the One they have sentenced to death is innocent and does not deserve this punishment.

But they do not hear me.

Then, angry, I turn my back to them and stand face to face with Jesus to tell Him how unjust this all is.

And I freeze.

Here stands before me the quiet and gentle Lamb.

I look at His wounded face.
He does not say anything.
He does not shout.
He does not argue with the crowd.

✨ He looks at me with great love, even as He carries a heavy cross.

It becomes quiet—not on the outside, but inside my heart.

How Often Do I Forget Him?

I forgot about Him. I was so focused on the shouting crowd.

🔹 I get lost in my daily worries—family, health, finances.
🔹 I become overwhelmed, turning my back to Jesus without even realizing it.

And yet, He is already carrying my burdens.

A quiet, gentle Lamb.

He does not even force me to look at Him.

The Gentle Teacher

So often, I feel tired, weak, and overwhelmed.

But then, I remember: Jesus is already here.

🌿 He teaches me how to be a good mother, helping my child carry his cross.
🌿 He teaches me how to be a good daughter and sister, carrying the cross of my family.
🌿 He teaches me how to be a woman, accepting the unique crosses I bear.
🌿 He teaches me meekness, gentleness, humility—through His loving heart.

A quiet, gentle Lamb.

A Prayer for Women

🙏 In this Station, I pray especially for women who feel lonely and abandoned.

May they find the courage to open their hearts to a God who is always with them.
May the Holy Spirit grant them the grace to recognize His presence in their lives.
May they discover their strength and beauty in the One who created them.
May they find hope in their cross, which Jesus is ready to carry with them every day.

📖 Jesus does not force us to look at Him, yet He is always there—silent, waiting, loving.

Joanna Jezierczak

Polish CLC of Young Adults

The crowd yells, “We have no king but Caesar!” as Jesus is handed over to be crucified. I wonder how Jesus must have felt at that moment.

In the First Contemplation on the Incarnation from the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, a scene unfolds in which the three Divine Persons look upon our world and see humanity in its brokenness:

“…they decide in their eternity that the Second Person should become a human being, in order to save the human race” (Sp Ex: 102).

In this beginning moment of the Passion, I wonder if Jesus felt hopeful.

• In the scourging, did Jesus remember those who suffer at the hands of others, wounded by the world?

• In the humiliation, did Jesus remember those who experience shame and powerlessness?

• In the condemnation, did Jesus remember those who feel trapped by sin, suffering, or despair?

Through his Passion, Jesus enters into our pain with deep compassion. Through his Death and Resurrection, he offers us healing and new life. We, captives of our own brokenness, become Pilgrims of Hope—because in Jesus, hope is never lost.

Jesus remembered us first, and so now, we walk in hope. Even in condemnation, perhaps Jesus saw beyond death, knowing that the story was not over.

Min Keun Daniel Park, SJ
Jesuit Scholastic at Ciszek Hall Jesuit Residential College, Bronx, NY.