Good Friday in Jerusalem

They are faces from afar, hearts ablaze with faith, pilgrims who long to touch, if only for a moment, the mystery of love taken to its extreme. They follow Jesus in his final steps, where pain becomes an offering and self-sacrifice is consummated in silence. Every stone holds a memory. Every corner whispers his Name.

But this year… everything is different.

The streets have lost their bustle. The echo of the hymns  faded. The wounded city breathes under the weight of uncertainty and fear. The land that once witnessed  Redemption is once again experiencing the bitterness of pain and death. Too much blood has been shed. Too many tears without consolation.

Soldiers everywhere, like shadows reminding us that peace has not yet come.

And yet, here we are.

Small, almost invisible: three Mexican Comboni Sisters walking through the streets of Jerusalem. There are no crowds, but we are not alone. We walk united with so many who would like to be here but cannot. Their prayers beat within our silence. Their hopes become our own.

We pray.

We pray for this land that groans. We pray for every broken life. We pray with the whole Church, raising an ancient and ever-new plea:

“Forgive your people, o Lord.”

And as we walk on, with heavy hearts and faith ablaze, we lift our gaze to the Crucified One.

In these almost deserted streets of the old city, where pain seems to have the last word, we silently proclaim the truth that never dies:
that He has already conquered death,
that His sacrifice was not in vain,
that His love remains stronger than all violence.
Here, where everything seems to be growing dark, we continue to pray for peace.
Because He gave everything.
Because He loved us… to the very end.

Sr Cecília Sierra
Comboni missionary sister