CONSECRATED LIFE: A HOPE THAT TRANSFORMS
PLENARY ASSEMBLY 2025
Number 187 - 2025
PRESENTATION
The XXIII Plenary Assembly of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG) took place from 5 to 9 May 2025 in Rome, with the theme ‘Consecrated Life: a Hope that transforms’.
Nine hundred and fifty Superiors General from 75 different countries and nationalities gathered in assembly. In an atmosphere of reflection and joyful prayer, they witnessed the vitality of Consecrated Life which reaffirmed itself as a living presence capable of generating seeds of hope and transformation in today’s world.
The theme of the Assembly was set in the context of the Jubilee of 2025 and the 60th anniversary of the founding of the UISG (1965-2025). Moreover, the event took place at a particularly significant time for the entire Church, marked by the recent death of Pope Francis and the prayerful awaiting for the new Pontiff, which culminated in the election of Leone XIV to lead the Universal Church.
In this issue of the Bulletin we report all the texts of the 23rd UISG Plenary Assembly.
WELCOME ADDRESS
UISG PLENARY ASSEMBLY 2025
Sr. Mary Barron, OLA, UISG President
Dear Sisters, Esteemed Members of the International Union of Superiors General, Honoured Guests,
It is with profound joy and deep gratitude that I stand before you today to welcome you to the 2025 UISG Plenary Assembly. What a gift it is to be gathered here, in this sacred and shared space, united by our common vocation and call to mission, by our collective faith, and by our unwavering commitment to service especially among the most vulnerable persons in our world.
This Assembly is taking place at a very significant moment for the Catholic Church globally. We have just completed the official mourning phase at the death of our dear Pope Francis. May his soul rest in peace. The entire Church and world holds its breath awaiting the new chosen one of God, the 267th Pontiff of the Roman Catholic Church. It seems fitting at this moment to call to mind some of Pope Francis’ key messages to Consecrated Life throughout his pontificate…. And perhaps to ask ourselves what is it that we are now called to carry forth, to further the renewal that he has initiated within our Church and within Consecrated Life.
He depended on Consecrated Life to support his vision for renewal and at this moment, we must be vigilant in doing our part to keep that flame of Church renewal alive. We must persevere in prayer with Mary the mother of Jesus, so that the choice of his
successor will be the one God desires to lead our Church into the future. We will hold this as a special intention throughout the days of our Assembly.
A key theme in all of his pontificate is the importance of encounter: at every level, with God in prayer, with each other in community, with those whom we are called to accompany and serve… stressing that all begins with a personal daily encounter with Jesus. “To follow Jesus is not a decision taken once and for all, it is a daily choice... We encounter him in our lives, in the concreteness of life” (2019).
Pope Francis’s addresses to the UISG Assemblies from 2013, 2016, 2019, and 2022 offer profound insights into his understanding and vision for consecrated life. I will mention just four themes:
1. Authority as Service Drawing from Pope Benedict XVI’s reflections, he emphasized that authority in the Church is synonymous with service, humility, and love. He called on consecrated leaders to exercise authority by accompanying, understanding, and loving, especially those on the margins.
“Let us keep our gaze fixed on the Cross: there is found any authority in the Church, where the One who is the Lord becomes a servant to the point of the total gift of himself” (2013).
2. Embracing Vulnerability He invited consecrated men and women to recognize our own fragility and to lower ourselves in service to others, following the example of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet. This vulnerability is seen as a source of renewal and growth.
“Having recognized ourselves as vulnerable, ask ourselves what are the new vulnerabilities before which, as consecrated persons, we must lower ourselves today” (2022).
This message is particularly poignant as we have fresh in our minds the example of his last few weeks on earth. He was not afraid to show his fragility and vulnerability and through it all he served the Church and humanity and cared for the vulnerable right to the end.
3. The Power of Prayer and Presence He underscored the importance of prayer, adoration, and humble service as central to consecrated life, reminding us that our presence and prayerful support are vital to helping the Church fulfil the mission entrusted to her.
“To pray, praise and adore is not a waste of time. The more united we are with the Lord, the closer we will be to humanity, in particular to suffering humanity” (2019).
4. Building Communion and Synodality He consistently emphasized the importance of synodality as a defining characteristic of the Church and called on consecrated life to actively engage in the journey by contributing our charisms and experiences and through the ministry of accompaniment. He also called on us to ensure synodal renewal within our own congregations.
With these thoughts of Pope Francis echoing in our ears, and a s we embark on this significant journey together, throughout this Plenary Assembly, let us pause for a moment to reflect on the extraordinary path that has brought us here.
We come from diverse corners of the world, each carrying unique stories, challenges, and hopes. Yet, we are bound by the same call—a call to discipleship, to leadership, and to transformation in the name of Christ.
This year, as we explore the theme “Consecrated Life: A Hope that Transforms,” we are reminded of the transformative power of our calling. Consecrated life is not merely a response to the needs of the world; it is a source of hope, a living testament to the enduring love and mercy of God.
“Hope is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops – at all,”1 wrote Emily Dickinson. Like that steadfast and songful bird, our consecrated life proclaims an unrelenting hope that uplifts and inspires even in the face of life’s fiercest storms.
As we gather in this sacred time of the Easter Season, our hearts are filled with the radiant hope of the Risen Lord—a hope that calls us continuously to transformation and renewal. It is fitting that our Assembly coincides with the Church’s Jubilee Year,
a time where we are called to be pilgrims of hope, journeying together in faith and solidarity witnessing to the ‘ hope that will never disappoint us’ (Romans 5:5) . Let us embrace this moment to reflect deeply on our vocation, drawing strength from the transformative power of hope to carry the light of Christ into our world, especially in these challenging times.
In a world that often feels fractured and uncertain, our unity as women religious is a testament to the power of faith and the strength of sisterhood. In a time when humanity grapples with challenges that often seem insurmountable—wars, poverty, environmental crises, and a pervasive sense of disconnection—our lives bear witness to an alternative vision. Through our consecration, we proclaim that transformation is not only possible but inevitable when rooted in faith, hope, and love.
As Maya Angelou reminds us, “Just like moons and like suns, / With the certainty of tides, / Just like hopes springing high, / Still I rise.” These words echo the essence of our shared journey. Through the grace of our vocation, we rise again and again to embody the Gospel in ways that challenge complacency, inspire renewal, and bridge divides.
Together, we are called to be light in darkness, hope in despair, and bridges of peace in a divided world. Together, we are called to be prophetic witnesses, daring to dream of a future that reflects the boundless love of God. Together we are called to trust in the unimaginable possibilities offered by relationships that are rooted in love and in mutual respect and trust, relationships that dispel fear and suspicion, relationships that break down the walls of division. Just like hopes springing high, / Still we rise.
Over the next few days, we will engage in meaningful dialogue, share our wisdom, and open our hearts to new insights and inspirations. Our programme together will lead us on a journey, appreciating from where we have come, especially during these past three years since the last Assembly in 2022. What we have lived and experienced during these three years has all taken place in the framework of the synodal path in the universal Church. This year in our Assembly we are invited to continue to embrace the spirit of synodality, to walk not as individuals, or as individual congregations, but as a communion of hearts, minds, and hands. We are invited to further the synodal path being traced by us and among us. We are invited to listen deeply to one another, to discern the movements of the Spirit among us, and to renew our commitment to the Gospel values that anchor our lives. This we will endeavour to do by using the Conversation in the Spirit Methodology.
As we remember the immediate past, our minds will also stray to the entire history of our Union. This year, we joyfully commemorate the 60th anniversary of the foundation of the International Union of Superiors General (UISG), established on December 8 th , 1965. Born in the spirit of renewal inspired by the Second Vatican Council, UISG has grown into a vibrant global network of female religious leaders, united in mission and service to the Church and the world. Over the decades, UISG has been a witness to profound transformations in consecrated life, fostering collaboration, dialogue, and mutual support among congregations across cultures and continents. As we celebrate this milestone, we honour the vision and dedication of those who paved the way for this extraordinary journey, and we look forward with hope to a future of continued faithfulness and transformative impact.”
On our journey together through this Assembly, we will pause to take a reflective look around—at the beauty and strength of who we are right now as a union. We will engage in deep dialogue, reflecting on how our consecrated life continues to transform us, our communities, and the world around us. This Assembly is an opportunity to listen, to discern, and to be renewed in our commitment to the prophetic mission entrusted to us. In this sacred moment, let us open our hearts to truly see and affirm one another: in our vocations, which are sources of hope; in our shared fragility, where tenderness dwells; and in our resilient courage, which transforms challenges into grace.
Galway Kinnell reminds us in his poetry that love and recognition have the power to heal and sustain us. In his poem “Saint Francis and the Sow,” he reminds us of the profound hope found in affirmation: “...sometimes it is necessary / to reteach a thing its loveliness… / until it flowers again / from within.” In our shared life of consecration, we witness this flowering, this inner transformation that becomes a sign of hope for the world. Let this Assembly be a profound opportunity to celebrate one another, weaving our individual experiences into a tapestry of collective hope and faithfulness.
The final element of our shared journey through this Assembly will hold an invitation to all of us to listen to voice of the Spirit calling us forward into an unknown yet hopefilled future. We will ponder and discern together the gentle yet transformative calls of the Spirit. Joy Harjo’s “A Map to the Next World” reminds us that the journey of transformation is both personal and collective, requiring courage, intention, and the
renewal of spirit. Like the map Harjo describes, our path forward may not be clear or conventional, but it is illuminated by the language of hope and the wisdom of the Spirit.
In the quiet depths of our hearts and the collective wisdom of our gathering, we are invited to listen attentively to the voice that beckons us forward into a future that remains unknown, yet filled with divine promise. Like pilgrims of hope, we step forward, not with certainty but with faith, trusting that the Spirit will illuminate the path ahead and empower us to carry the light of Christ into new, uncharted horizons of service and love. Together, let us navigate this sacred journey, trusting that the Spirit will lead us to new horizons of grace, where our shared resilience and faith will continue to transform the world.
I would like to take this moment to thank each of you for your presence, your dedication, and your willingness to journey together. To our guest speakers and facilitators, thank you for sharing your gifts and enriching our assembly with your insights. To the organizing committee, thank you for your tireless efforts in bringing this gathering to fruition.
As we embark on this journey together, let us hold fast to the words of Pope Francis, to his vision for God’s mission entrusted to the Church, to his desire that we all become “artisans of hope,” actively shaping a future filled with promise and possibility. Let us trust that the light we carry as consecrated women has the power to transform even the darkest corners of our world.
Let us hold in our hearts the words of the prophet Isaiah: “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19). May these words inspire us to be courageous and creative, to trust in the new things that God is doing in and through us.
Sisters, let this Assembly be a moment of grace, a celebration of our shared vocation, and a commitment to the transformative hope that defines consecrated life.
Welcome, and may the Spirit guide and bless us in the days ahead.
Thank you.
1 “Hope” is the thing with feathers By Emily Dickinson
CONSECRATED LIFE: HOPE THAT TRANSFORMS
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJ
Mariola López Villanueva (Bigastro, Alicante, 1966) is a Religious of the Sacred Heart, a journalist, and a theologian specializing in Biblical and Spiritual Theology. She earned a doctorate in Spiritual Theology from Loyola University and is currently a professor of Spirituality at the Faculty of Theology in Granada. She is part of the Provincial Team of her congregation in Spain and, alongside her academicandpastoralmission,accompanieshermotherinherold age. Her work is focused on offering paths of healing through the Gospel, helping people live with greater meaning and fulfillment. She has shared experiences and learned alongside religious women from various congregations, enriching her perspective on consecrated life. As the author of several works, she has explored themes such as prayer through women’s narratives, Ignatian spirituality, and the figure of Madeleine Delbrêl, among others. Her publications have been translated into multiple languages, reflecting the depth of her thought and her vocation for spiritual accompaniment.
“The Lord desires to open a path in our hearts through which He can enter our lives and make His journey.”1
In this Jubilee year, much is being written and discussed about hope. How can we continue to speak of hope in a world that seems to be becoming increasingly inhospitable, where millions of human beings suffer violence, endure hunger, are forced to abandon their land, see their most basic rights ignored, and are devastated by indifference? We are living through a century deeply wounded by wars, polarities, the demonization of the other who is different from me, and yet, this time is paradoxically, blessed and full of potential because it is the time in which God is coming.
As women called by Jesus, it is precisely in the fractures of our world that we most need to embody the cause of hope. A hope that is situated in the heart, in the place of our deepest desires, in contact with who we are and what we live. Connecting with the
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
hope that transforms requires going to the depths, and from there, it speaks of us and all that we do not dare to say out loud but that beats within us.2
What words can we bring to this international community of women leaders? Women who wish to encourage and inspire, to breathe hope into other women and companions in mission? What I can share with you does not come from vast knowledge but from what I have sensed and savored over the years in my encounters with women religious from various congregations and different generations, some of whom have become for me true sisters and companions on my journey.
I have followed the responses on the UISG website about what it means for hope to transform and how hope can transform the daily lives of the sisters. Sister Ann Carbon wrote that “Hope is holding onto something…” and I was thrilled to discover that in Hebrew, the two words for hope (miqwah and tipwah) come from the word for rope (qaw), which as a verb also means to wait. Hope is a rope that Someone extends to us, and to which we cling.
Every life that begins is woven from that “cord” that united us to our mother’s body and is made up of two intertwined strings. In them was all our hope of coming to be.
During the catastrophic floods in Valencia caused by the DANA, we saw dramatic images: there were neighbors who threw sheets as ropes from their balconies, and people being swept away by the water currents saved their lives because they were able to grab onto them.
A sister who is a friend of mine and who was the General of a small congregation three times told me that the first time she was elected, she felt strong and said to herself: “I can do this;” the second time, she felt her impotence and whispered: “I can’t;” and the third time, she whispered deep within herself: “You are the one who can.”
I think she doesn’t know just how much good she did me. When we cannot, do not know, or feel lost and discouraged… He is the one who can, who knows, who seeks us, who extends a rope to us: “With cords of love I drew them, with bands of affection” (Hos 11:4).
We are going to see hope through four cords plus one, like those with which the paralytic’s friends, having made a hole in the roof, lowered him before Jesus (Mk 2:3–12). We will try to let these four cords, which we receive and offer, intertwine us as a community of care and, therefore, also as a community of hope.
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
We will need to cling blindly to the fifth cord, again and again, in all circumstances, like little girls who allow themselves to be led lightly along the unknown and surprising paths of the world.3
1.- The First Cord: The One Extended Between Naomi and Ruth
Answering for each other Companions of hope in times of loss
A few months ago, a provincial from Europe wrote to me and asked if she could come with a group from her congregation to encourage them, to help them see that our consecrated life is worth it, that although we are living in a situation of decline and
RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
facing great fragility, there is a horizon of happiness and fulfillment within it. I thought that this desire is shared by all of us, that in that decrease and the tone of low vitality, many of us find ourselves. How can we help each other keep our spirits up and rekindle hope in times of loss?
When Naomi feels externally defeated because she has lost her husband and children, and when she feels empty inside, without meaning or hope—“call me ‘bitter,’” she said (Ruth 1:20)—she could not have imagined how far the cord that Ruth extended to her (Ruth 1:16–18) from her resilient heart would reach.
Two women with losses, at different moments in life, who, in the midst of an uncertain present and future due to their condition as widows, set off together, with no baggage other than being able to rely on each other. They are also us. And Ruth, from a hostile people and a different culture, hears with relief and comfort Naomi say to her: “My daughter, I want to find a place where you can be happy” (Ruth 3:2). Naomi gives her a bond: she calls her “daughter,” she binds her to herself and to her inner longing, and Ruth, in turn, offers her company and the possibility of unprecedented fruitfulness. God has needed women in the winter of their lives to carry forward the history of salvation: Sarah, Elizabeth, Anna the prophetess… and puts into the mouth of Naomi, who is also traversing this fragile stage, what He desires for each of His creatures: to be able to find them a place where they can live their lives, where they can live with dignity and meaning. It is by dwelling in the present moment, the present season, that Naomi and Ruth can accompany each other in a manner that is healthy for both; and
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
they offer each other mutual fidelity for better or worse, which knows no turning back. Together, they will place their trust in the One who cares for them with kindness and provides for their needs.
As women leaders of your congregations, you also long to express to each sister, especially to the younger generations, the wish that Naomi offered to Ruth: to search together for a place where new life can be born, where love can continue to unfold for others; a place where we can bless and be blessed in our differences.
The neighbors will say to Naomi when she cradles Ruth’s son in her arms: “Blessed be the Lord, who has given you someone to care for you, the one who loves you so much!” (Ruth 4:14). How can we respond to each other in our congregations?
Our conversations, our ways of proceeding, are not neutral; they either discourage us or inspire hope. What cords do we need to extend to each other so that, along the journey, we murmur less and bless more? Cords that show we can live together, in the midst of our great differences and daily frictions. Cords that make our lives good for others.
Neither Naomi nor Ruth hid their fears and vulnerability; they were there, but they leaned on each other and walked, attentive to the silent presence of the God who lives and sees them—as Hagar had experienced in the harshness of the desert (Gen 16:14)— , trusting that He will act, even if they cannot yet foresee how. Along the way, both will learn that being helped is being human.
Hope encompasses not only the future but also the restoration of the past. Remembering how God has guided us (Deut 8) is a guarantee that He will continue to do so in His way and that He goes before us at every step we take (Exod 13:21–22). There is no hope without the memory of the heart, and today we are invited to give thanks for the lives of the women who have preceded us in our congregations, who trusted and risked together in very difficult times, and whose memory teaches us that we can become companions of hope while embracing times of loss.
2.- The Second Cord: The One that Jesus Extends to a Woman with a Fever
Squeezing a hand
The Hope in Small Gestures
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
A fellow woman doctor expressed that what we are living through is no longer just fragility, not only vulnerability, but also “precariousness” that many of our sisters are experiencing. Is it possible to help each other inhabit this physical, psychological, and existential precariousness in a way that embodies hope ? Pope Francis tells us: “The evil one makes us see and condemn our frailty, whereas the Spirit brings it to light with tender love.”4
Many of our older sisters suffer from mental deterioration; some have Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s and can no longer respond for themselves or for others. We know that mental health issues lurk at every stage of the journey, even at other ages. This requires patience and a compassionate gaze.
In the field of health, the expression “hope work” is used—working with hope. There is curative hope work, where the patient gradually gets better, and palliative hope work when the person cannot get better but feels better. This made me think that we need to apply the latter in our religious life now. Sometimes we do not experience that we are “getting better.” The reality is what it is; we need to cooperate with the inevitable , but we can help each other “feel better,” and that will make greater humanity and warmth among us possible.
Experts say that the key to healthy aging is relationships , relationships , and relationships How do we reach that difficult stage of life with secure bonds? I had the experience of living with a sister where we saw how the disease slowly took hold of her—of her memory, her will, her orientation… It stripped her of almost everything, but it could not take away her smile. I remember, at the beginning of her illness, once when I was going to give a lecture and asked for her blessing: she made the sign of the cross on my forehead and said, “Enjoy it!” This has been the most precious blessing I have ever received, and it has stayed with me forever. I also remembered it today when I came to be with you, because if we enjoy something, it means there has been an encounter. In the book La presencia pura , 5 the French writer Christian Bobin shares the experience he had with his father, who suffered from Alzheimer’s, and how he discovered with him another way of perceiving and a different language: “These people love to touch the hands we extend to them, to hold them for a long time in theirs, and to squeeze them. This language is impeccable.”
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJ
López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
Mariola
Bulletin n. 187, 2025 Sr.
He continues, reflecting on his father: “What remained there was only the elemental life, which in the end is the only life: drinking a glass of water, holding a hand, looking into each other’s eyes, listening, being silent (sometimes for long moments), walking… the most elementary things are what save us and give authentic value to life.”
Jesus, too, had held a woman’s hand for a long time to lift her from a fever that had kept her confined (Mk 1:29–39) and he took the hand of a teenager who had lost the will to live, like many of our young people who are disheartened and deprived of meaning (cf. Mk 5:41).
With basic simplicity, Mark tells us: “He approached, took her hand, and helped her up” (Mk 1:31). I thought that, if the Gospel were to be lost to us and only these words remained, the gift of your service would still be in them: that proximity, that closeness, where the other is, in the midst of those fevers that cause us to lose heart, meaning, hope, self-esteem, validation… Simply being there, drawing near, sometimes for long periods, until a minimum contact is made. Holding each other’s hands so that we may get up, ready to serve and offer our gifts. Not out of obligation, not out of the sense of duty of a consecrated life that is anesthetized, but with deep gratitude, from the inundation we feel every time we perceive that we have been healed and raised up.
We barely suspect the suffering behind the other person. Jesus always approached delicately. He could not reach her hand, but he gently touched the back of that woman, who had been bent over for many years, without her speaking, without anyone mediating for her. It was He who, being present, saw her, was moved , and wanted to give her the possibility of a different life (Lk 13:10–17).
What are we carrying that keeps us hunched, self-referential? What do we need to be freed from…? There are sisters who no longer know how to ask for help and perhaps even cannot. Extending our hands, continuing to offer cords of acceptance and affection. No matter how many years people have been blocked, never stop trying. God is hidden in the details. Inhabiting the hope of small gestures.
“I am good for nothing, no one comes to ask me for anything,” a sister from my congregation once told me. A hand is squeezed in asking for something, as Jesus did in His weariness with the woman who came to the well, not wanting to meet anyone (Jn 4:7). A hand is squeezed simply by being there, without judgment, embracing the Godwho-comes-and-is in what we still do not understand. He enters through the weakest and most precarious side of life and knows only how to accompany. Just discovering that we are not alone, that someone is there, opens small cracks of hope.
3.- The Third Cord: The One Thrown by a Foreigner to Jesus
Bearing the gaze and the meaning Faces that bring hope to our lives
We need to know that someone is there, but we also need someone who is there to see us. In the Zulu language, spoken in South Africa, the typical greeting is: Sawubona , which means “I see you,” and the other person responds in the same way: Sawubona – “I see you too.” Feeling seen is feeling loved. But if our days pass with our faces glued
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
The internet colonizes our inner lives and intimacy, diminishing the quality of our everyday relationships. We constantly feel pulled by the outside world and disconnected from ourselves. The virtual world, while bringing many benefits, also often leaves us scattered, trapped in unhealthy rhythms, deprived of silence, and disconnected from our true selves… and it is urgent to recover presence in our communities. When I am truly present to the other, I make her feel valued. I silently say: “I am here for you; you matter. I am not looking to make the most of time with you, I seek to celebrate your presence in my life.”
In the Gospel, we see that it is in that space of concrete presence, face to face, where hope takes root: a foreign woman presents herself to Jesus, pleading with Him for relief for her sick daughter (Mk 7:24–30), but he apparently does not see her. In his healing domain, she seems invisible, seen only through the lens of her labels. It appears that Jesus feels she has nothing to do with him, that he is not ready to grasp the cord she extends—though he had already taken the one offered by Jairus, a respected Jew, when he pleaded for his own sick daughter (Mk 5:23–24). With his refusal, Jesus seems to avert his gaze, but she does everything possible to draw it back, to make him see her, so that he may be touched by her affliction.
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms to screens, if we look at each other without truly seeing one another, something deeply human will be lost.6
An Akkadian proverb says, “He who throws the rope to his lost brother will find a friend in the gods.” Here, it is the woman who throws the cord toward what was still unfinished in Jesus, what had not yet fully unfolded—certain un-evangelized areas of his heart. She heals him of his conditioned Jewish gaze, expanding spaces within him beyond imagination, helping him dissolve his inner boundaries and discover that all everyone, without exception—have access to the bread that was also freely given to him. When he fixes his gaze on her, he sees her in her dignity, and that demands honoring her pain.7 In a translation closer to the Greek, Jesus says: “You have evangelized me…” (Mk 7:29), or, in other words: You have made me more human.
In a scene from the delightful film A Bakery in Tokyo, 8 Tokue, an elderly woman with leprosy, in one of her dialogues with the young Sentaro—whom she wants to teach to love while cooking—says something like: “The most important thing in our lives is that they give meaning to the lives of others.”
Who do we give meaning to, and who gives meaning to us? Who throws cords that expand our horizons and make us more human?
There are two autobiographical books that have left a lasting impression on me, books that have led me to focus my gaze on faces to which I do not have access in my daily life: both have made me cry, and in these times threatened by inhospitality and the brutality of certain political practices, they have become even more significant. One is David Zamora’s Solito, 9 the incredible journey of a nine-year-old boy from El Salvador to the United States. He writes it to heal and reconnect with those who were his clandestine family during the months that traumatized his life, months in which he learned not to cry and not to disturb the elders. He wants to thank them for saving him, for giving him a future; to tell them that if he is alive today, it is thanks to them. Many of you, and
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
The other book is La mala costumbre , 10 The first-person account of the heartbreaking inner journey of a young transgender person who narrates the story from boy to woman. Towards the end, I discover that the title comes from this person’s unfortunate habit of crying alone.
These are lives marked by the pain and poverty of being rejected, of not being seen… But God does hear their cry wherever they are (Gn 21:17) and He calls us to go out to those places of exclusion, to remain there, bent, on our knees, because this bowing is the beginning of every process of hope: a face that becomes a friend and someone to care for.
Whose faces bring hope to our lives today? As fragile and trusting women, as Canaanites crying for broken lives—will a few crumbs of hope be enough for us, as it was for that woman? (Mk 7:28).
4.- The Fourth Cord: The One Woven by Martha, Mary, and Lazarus
Loving each other is letting ourselves be Where there is care, there is hope
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms your sisters, closely accompany these realities and are also witnesses to the heartfelt solidarity that grows at the margins.
Throughout this Holy Year, we are constantly asking ourselves how to concretize hope in our contexts and in our daily lives, how to give it form;11 how to care for it and weave it. At our recent General Chapter, we said: “As apostolic women of the 21st century, God calls us to walk with people on the move. People bearing immense pain, seeking peace and bread, people who have to learn new languages and integrate into other cultures.”12
People who have gone through migratory struggles in the hope of finding a better future agree on three vital lessons that are also relevant to us today: the first is living together, we need to move from merely coexisting in communities to truly living together, accepting and respecting the diversity that constitutes us, and experiencing that collaboration is key to survival. Learning to increasingly connect with one another, with our lay missionary companions, and with other friendly congregations. The second lesson is the humility of having to ask, and the third is perseverance ; there are many failures, many unsuccessful attempts, but giving up or surrendering is not an option… persevering means continuing despite everything.13
That community of care, which is Bethany, offers us the framework to navigate these vital lessons and reverse the “crisis of living together” that manifests itself in our societies and in our own spaces.
I remember once when I went to give a spiritual retreat to some sisters in another country, and I asked the Provincial what they wanted, and she said, “Help us love each other more.” That stayed with me. Relationships are what give us the most joy and also what makes us suffer the most, and most of the time, we hurt each other out of sheer clumsiness, because of wounds that have not had the chance to heal. In a world of fractured relationships, healthy relationships between us are today our greatest
RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
challenge. If we do not work on them, we will not have communities to offer to the young women who come to us.
How can we improve the bonds in our communities? How does the way we communicate influence this? How can we express our discomfort without hurting others? How much hostility can we bear before we become sick? There are ways of living that heal us and ways of living that make us negative.
A sister told me that another sister would get upset and scold her when she overslept one morning and did not make it to prayer. I told her that years ago I lived with a sister who, when I fell asleep, would say, “It must be because you needed it.” And that helped me too. There are so many ways to face things; some make us feel small and guilty, while others broaden us and teach us to love our fragility.
We are all more in need than we show—secret pains are kept—and we are all more loving than we show: “I don’t dare to show all the affection I have for my sisters,” a friend of mine who is a General Superior once told me. How can we free the love that is in each of us? How can we help free it in others?
If there is a space where Jesus went to receive and let himself be cared for, to bring out the affection and tenderness that was in him, it is Bethany. It does us good to contemplate him receiving, to see how he takes his time to let himself to be received and be loved by his friends.
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva,
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
Loving your sisters does not mean giving yourself without limits, nor renouncing your own needs. You can love and love deeply from a healthier and less painful place, where there is also space to take care of yourselves and where you can care for, respect, and love each other without feeling guilty or selfish for doing so.
Jesus had done everything he could for Lazarus (Jn 11:1–44), and now it is he who needs to be cared for in the face of the atrocity of what is about to happen to him (Jn 11:53). Martha nourishes his life; we imagine her this time as centered and grateful, while Mary caresses and anoints his feet with extravagant perfume. In this scene, they do not speak. Lazarus does not speak either; he simply shares the table and sits next to him (Jn 12:1–8). There are moments when words do not come, and gestures deepen in silence. It is striking that in the stories where perfume appears, symbolizing the gratuitous and celebratory dimension of life, there are always murmurs, some reproach, or frustration (Jn 12:4–6).14 We must also expect this, as Jesus does, without losing the freedom to anoint and to be anointed, even though not everyone understands. Judas criticizes it, and Peter will have difficulty accepting it because it also meant showing that he is needy and dependent on another (Jn 13:7).
Reaching that moment of harmonizing differences, of being able to collaborate expansively, required a process and many comings and goings for the two sisters. We can recognize ourselves in that overburdened, tired Martha, feeling uneasy with herself and with Mary; perhaps she would like to be doing other things or doing things differently. Jesus calls her twice—just as Moses was called before the burning bush—to show her the only necessary thing: to be present and whole in that moment. To enjoy what she does, to relish his presence in the house (Lk 10:38–42).
Difficult times will come, but it is precisely in those times that the bonds between them and Jesus are strengthened as they share the pain of losing Lazarus (Jn 11:1–44). They cry together; they do not hide their vulnerability. They express their needs and limits, and Lazarus’ weakness unites them. They help each other trust in Jesus beyond what they can see, and they surrender to God’s healing and life-giving power (Jn 11:43–45).
Loving each other is letting each other be , as Martha and Mary let themselves be, each in her own way, each from her own mental and emotional space, very distinct from the other’s. They had gone through times when they compared and competed, when complaints easily arose. Now they have learned the value of collaboration, they let each other be, knowing that when they connect, they can offer much more to Lazarus and Jesus; that by intertwining their cords, they multiply.
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
Jesus does not hide his poverty before them, nor his need for tenderness and beauty, which also affects us. And he will take their gestures to leave us the memorial of his life: he will set the table with his own body, wash and anoint feet, as the women had done with him, leaving no one out.
We need to make those gestures that humanize life concretely in our communities. So that we may be able to offer, together-with-others, our bread and perfume. Thanking together, making the Eucharist in a world that is wounded and hungers for love and beauty. For, where there is care and interdependence, there is hope.
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
How can we weave such care among us, and with others, to create communities of hope, communities that yearn for a horizon of a good life for all? Where do we feel compelled by God to weave our cords together with other congregations today?
5.- The Fifth Cord: With Which Jesus Draws Each of Us Today
Making a home of the wound Women fragilely happy
On one side of our cross that we professed sisters wear, we have engraved Spes Unica : the cross, our only hope. At the edge of Jesus’ wound, in his side permanently open in the suffering and rejected faces of our world, we are summoned to drink from the flow of a hope that nothing can stop.
The Invincible Hope is a book by Christian de Chergé, a martyr at the Monastery of Tibhirine in Algeria, where we find a meditation on Mary on Holy Saturday, which he dedicates to a friend who is a Nun: “As long as there is pain to share in the world, you will be there, companion of the night and doubt, of the vigil and the tears. You will always be that woman without age… ready to have compassion for everything. And if we ask you the reasons for the hope that drives you to act this way, you will take the dead child who descends from the cross and receive him in the tomb of your arms, so that there, near your chest, he may rest, awaken, and revive in your innermost being.”15
Companions of the night and doubts, companions of the vigil and tears. Ready to have compassion for everything. How meaningful it is that in this Jubilee Year of The Hope that does not disappoint, Pope Francis invites us on a pilgrimage deeper into the land of the Heart of Jesus, to never stop exploring it (Dilexit nos ). Only in that space of the Heart is it possible to lower barriers, unlearn fears, experience the only love that seals the deepest wounds, and discover ourselves bound together in our essential fragility.
Jesus, from the cross, binds Mary and John, offering them the possibility to make a home in the very place where they have felt wounded by their loss (Jn 19:25–27). He also ties us together, offering us connections: He gives us sons and daughters, makes us mothers and sisters. From now on, Mary will be wherever we are, the first pilgrim of hope, so that no one will ever again have to weep alone.
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
Mary teaches us that hope is nourished by that resistance and resilience, which allows us to stay in pain without breaking. Mary knows that hope is conceived in the present and, at times, in difficult circumstances. Staying and waiting when others in the same circumstances would not. John and Peter left in disbelief, while Mary Magdalene stays , she is there, present, bent over the empty tomb (Jn 20:10–12), as we have seen so many women bent over, crying over the broken bodies of their loved ones in Gaza, Haiti, Ukraine, and the Congo.
Mary had first experienced in her fiat what Jesus will later discover: that in what is strong, secure, and rigid, the Spirit cannot vibrate. (How many rigidities lead to disordered and guilt-laden lives!). And she will be filled with joy discovering that the Ruah, the Spirit, vibrates in the fragile, the tender, the weak, and the vulnerable… and from there, she transforms us. God looks at the smallness, Jesus gives thanks, filled with joy because He has chosen to reveal Himself to those who need others (Lk 10:21–24).
Bulletin n. 187, 2025 Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
Having a vulnerable heart, like Jesus, means knowing that anyone has the right to enter our lives and feeling drawn to everything that is wounded and needy in this world. For an inhospitable place, a place of pain, to be transformed into a home, into a place of encounter, it needs a love that welcomes the other with all that they bring. The wound can become a hostile space when it is met with indifference or exclusion, or a blessing space. “It all depends on how we enter the sacred ground that is the vulnerability of each person. If we enter barefoot and ready for a conversation among beggars, we will be building spaces of peace… and of celebration for a shared life.”16
I once spoke with a sister who accompanies young people in formation, and she confessed to me that she felt like an “imposter” because she encouraged them to pray, yet she felt she wasn’t taking care of her own prayer life, that the phone took up too much time, that she was distracted, and juggling many things at once… How well I understood her! I thanked her for opening up that space of vulnerability because I also recognized that feeling. I have often felt like an “imposter” myself. How many times have I thought to myself, “if these sisters knew what a hectic life I lead, they would not call me.” But the miracle happens later, it is He who passes and performs acts of kindness through our misaligned, “disheveled” lives, sometimes with that distance between what we wish to live and what we poorly and awkwardly do live.
And it is there, paradoxically, in those secret cracks in ourselves, where His grace undeservedly visits us and that is what fills us with hope, a hope that no one can take away from us, because we know that the definitive does not depend on us: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but I receive you with great joy.”
Pope Francis connects the experience of hope with that of feeling loved and with the desire for happiness that forms our very being.17 I leave you my joy so that it may be completed in you, Jesus had said at a very difficult moment for him (Jn 15:11).
In this last year, I went as often as I could to care for my mother, and I wrote much of this conference while I was with her. Last month she turned 96. One day, while she was participating in the Eucharist on television, I overheard her say, “I don’t like this, I don’t like it.” I asked what she did not like, and she said that Jesus should forgive her, but she did not like the end of the Gospel: the weeping and gnashing of teeth for the one who had hidden his talent out of fear (Mt 25:14–30).
“How would you end it?” I asked her. “I would give him another talent,” she replied, “and tell him to go find his companions, ask them how they did it, let himself be helped, and not be afraid.” … I laughed at her interpretation and told her I was sure Jesus would like her ending much more than Matthew’s.
Our hope is knowing that Jesus will not stop trusting us with his talents, over and over again, to alleviate suffering, to help increase the amount of love in this world, to encourage life…
May the fears we have, and the uncertainty that greets us at every step, not prevent us from braiding our cords, weaving them into nets and alliances that care for, repair, nurture, and beautify lives; and being able to talk with each other as we journey on how we live, what our dreams are, and who keeps us grateful until the end.
Julian of Norwich, and generations of women throughout history, have expressed that certainty which allowed them to live and relate with an expaned heart: the deep trust
Sr. Mariola López Villanueva, RSCJConsecrated Life: Hope That Transforms
that everything shall be well, that everything shall come to a good end. Not because of us, but because of Him. Not because we do our part in our communities, but because His Presence makes them good for others.
Being transformed is allowing ourselves to be drawn, holding on to his cords of love and justice, and having only one certainty in our lives: whatever happens, He will never let us go, because He will not allow a single one of His smallest creatures to be lost, not even one little bird (Mt 10:29–31), nor the faint light of a single firefly.
I hope we help each other to be humble pilgrims in this land of a Love that exceeds us, accomplices and companions along the way, by the side of all those who today seek shelter. Pilgrims who choose-to-love-without-counting-the-cost in every circumstance. Women wrapped in weakness (Heb 5:2) and therefore ready to have compassion for it all. Fragilely happy, fragilely hopeful women.
Bulletin n. 187, 2025
1 Origen, Homilies on the Gospel of Luke 21:5–7.
2 M.C. De la Fuente, “Espacios de co-esperanza que forjan sentido,” in Sembrar esperanza acompañando el presente, Narcea 2024, 85.
3 As I write these lines, Pope Francis has been in the Gemelli Hospital for more than two weeks. I have been moved that, in the midst of the most critical moments, not a single day has passed without him calling or asking to have someone communicate on his behalf with the parish priest of Gaza. My prayer and gratitude because his life, his words, and his gestures inspire and are present in the background of these pages.
4 Patris cordis, 2.
5 C. Bobin, La presencia pura, Ed. El gallo de oro, 2023.
6 M. López Villanueva - J. Melloni Ribas, Ignatian Spirituality Today. Guide 21, cristianisme i justícia, 2024, 12.
7 A. Odriozola, “Cuidar la esperanza en situaciones de adversidad”, in Jornadas de Justicia y Misión de la CONFER: Los nombres de la Esperanza hoy. February2024.
8 Naomi Kawase, Una pastelería en Tokio, 2015.
9 J. Zamora, Sólito, Ediciones del Periscopio, 2024.
10 S. Alana Portero, La mala costumbre de llorar a solas, Seix Barral, 2023.
11 Pope Francis tells us: “Hope needs a body.” General Audience (8 February 2017).
12 Society of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, General Chapter 2024, 28.
13 Testimony of David Obiang, a young man from Cameroon, who narrates his journey and writes about his experience on the mountain while waiting to jump over the fence separating Morocco from Spain: “There were thousands of people from different countries, religions, languages… We accepted and respected each other, sharing everything—one bread among seven, one kilogram of rice among twenty… I made more than 40 jumps in 22 months, always signing up for the next one. It is not allowed to give up, nor to surrender; persevering is to continue despite everything.” “Construir la esperanza”, in Sembrar esperanza acompañando el presente, Narcea 2024, 124–7.
14 “Some were angry within themselves and said, ‘Why this waste of perfume?’” (Mk 14:4–5). “When the disciples saw this, they were indignant and said, ‘Why this waste?’” (Mt 26:8–9). Jesus replies to Simon the Pharisee regarding his judgment of the woman who had interrupted his house, weeping with an alabaster jar: “Do you see this woman? When I entered your house, you did not give me water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but she has not stopped kissing my feet since I entered. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with perfume” (Lk 7:44–46).
15 “And to all those who seem to have a heart to bleed.” Christian de Chergé, La esperanza invencible. Escritos esenciales del monje mártir de Argelia. Lumen, Buenos Aires 2027, 33.
16 C.M. Antunes, Oh noche que guiaste, Grupo Comunicación Loyola, 2023.
17 Spes nos confundit, 21.