“Transformed by Hope” is proposed as a space of listening and discernment on the Sunday Gospels that will accompany our Lenten journey.

The initiative, promoted by the UISG Women Theologians, is situated within the horizon opened by the Jubilee and seeks to prolong its grace, continuing to live our vocation as pilgrims of hope amid the challenges of the present time.

Each week, in the light of the Word of God, we will contemplate an aspect of the conversion to which we are called, allowing ourselves to be guided by the Spirit on the journey toward Easter. It is an invitation to allow evangelical hope to shape our way of believing, of living communion, and of participating in the mission of the Church.

For Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, the reflection on the Gospel of Matthew (21:1–11) is by Sr. Marie Desanges Kahindo Kavene, Servite de Marie.

A reading that opens our hearts to receive the Word of God in our human reality

As we read slowly through this account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, several paradoxical attitudes reveal the beauty and fragility of our humanity:

• strength and gentleness are intertwined in the posture of Jesus, the humble king, riding on a donkey.
• Between acclamation and incomprehension, a tension arises: Jesus’ identity raises questions among the inhabitants of Jerusalem: ‘Who is this man?’.

This echoes John 1:11: ‘He came to his own, and his own did not receive him’. The humble and the lowly perceive the extraordinary in the ordinary: this man ‘is the prophet Jesus of Nazareth’.

And I, do I know how to perceive God’s work in the lives of others? What are the seeds of life that are sprouting and unfolding in my life? Who am I and where am I amidst this crowd? Am I on the fringes of this expressed joy? What garment can I lay on the ground, what branch do I have to wave, what words of hope do I need to hear in order to truly share in this joy?

A Word to reflect on and listen to in my life as a woman 

Tell the daughter of Zion: ‘Here is your King, coming to you.’ This biblical figure is not exclusively female. The Bible often uses feminine imagery to speak of God’s people. The expression ‘the daughter of Zion’ conveys both God’s tenderness and the vulnerability of the people chosen by God, whose image is fulfilled in Mary of Nazareth, who shared and bore the hope of her people.

Consequently, no one should be excluded from this hope. Yet, by entering this narrative through faces often absent from the text, we can perceive the women of Jerusalem, discreet but ever-present, secretly harbouring deep hopes: peace, justice, healing, recognition, respect for themselves, for their children and for their people.

Some of them live on the margins, in precariousness, invisibility, the solitude of isolation… Their silent hope, like a seed buried in the earth, is fragile but alive. It resonates with the very attitude of Jesus, who does not impose himself but offers himself to the disfigured of history to restore their dignity.

And I, do I recognise myself in these anonymous faces? What is my hope as a woman for myself, for the excluded, for the Church and for our world?