
Saturday of the Second Week of Lent, March 7, 2026Saturday of the Second Week of Lent, March 7, 2026

The Feast of Merciful Love
Voice over by Eliz
Mic 7:14-15.18-20, Psalm: 102, Lk 15:1-3.11-32
Memorial of Saints Perpetua and Felicity, martyrs
Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,
On this Memorial of Saints Perpetua and Felicity, who from the darkness of a prison cell witnessed to the radiant light of Christ, our readings unfold the very heart of the Gospel: the boundless, pursuing mercy of our God.
The prophet Micah cries out in awe, “Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt… and casts into the depths of the sea all our sins?” This is not a distant, cold deity, but a Father whose love actively cancels our debts, who delights in faithfulness and compassion. He is the Shepherd invoked in the psalm, who pastures us, His flock, with tenderness.
This divine character is perfectly revealed by Jesus in the parable of the Prodigal Son. Here, Catholic teaching shows us not just a story of a wayward youth, but an icon of the Trinity. The Father’s gaze never leaves the horizon; His love is an active waiting. The son’s journey from rebellion to repentance mirrors every human heart, created for God but lost in the “distant country” of sin. As Saint Augustine confessed, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”
The Father’s response is the explosion of mercy Micah prophesied. He runs—an undignified, total outpouring of love. The robe, the ring, the feast: these are signs of restored dignity, sonship, and communion. This is the feast of reconciliation, the feast of the Eucharist, to which we are all invited.
Yet, the parable challenges us who remain in the Father’s house. Are we like the elder brother, whose service has grown cold and transactional, jealous of the mercy shown to others? The Father pleads, “Everything I have is yours.” He invites us into His own joy.
This is where Saints Perpetua and Felicity stand as our companions. In their martyrdom, they lived the ultimate truth: that nothing—not family attachment, not social standing, not even the primal love for one’s infant child—is greater than the merciful love of the Father who calls. They trusted so utterly in the eternal feast that they could leave this earthly one behind.
So, where do we find comfort and strength? First, in the sacrament of Confession, where God literally “casts our sins into the depths of the sea.” Second, in imitating the Father’s merciful gaze. Pope Francis insists, “Mercy is the force that reawakens us to new life and instills in us the courage to look to the future with hope.”
Perhaps you feel like the younger son, ashamed and far off. Look up; the Father is waiting to run to you. Perhaps you feel like the elder son, weary and resentful. Listen; the Father says, “All I have is yours.” Perhaps you are called, like Perpetua and Felicity, to witness to this love in a costly way. Be assured: the God who shepherds us now will crown us with everlasting joy.
Let us, then, enter the feast of merciful love. Let us receive it, and with great courage, let us share it. For our God is the One who does not retain His anger, but delights in clemency. And to Him be glory forever. Amen.
May God bless you all!



