Pope Francis' words for the Jubilee of the Sick and Health Care Workers

The following are the concluding paragraphs of  Pope Francis' homily at the Mass to celebrate the Jubilee of the Sick and Healthcare Workers. The homily was read by Archbishop Rino Fisichella. At the end of Mass, Pope Francis made an unexpected appearance to greet the congregation gathered in St Peter's Square, in a wheel chair and receiving oxygen via a nasal cannula.

Sisters and brothers, we read these texts as we celebrate the Jubilee of the Sick and Health Care Workers. Illness is certainly one of the harshest and most difficult of life’s trials, when we experience in our own flesh our common human frailty. It can make us feel like the people in exile, or like the woman in the Gospel: deprived of hope for the future. Yet that is not the case. Even in these times, God does not leave us alone, and if we surrender our lives to him, precisely when our strength fails, we will be able to experience the consolation of his presence. By becoming man, he wanted to share our weakness in everything (cf. Phil 2:6-8). He knows what it is to suffer (cf. Is 53:3).  Therefore, we can turn to him and entrust our pain to him, certain that we will encounter compassion, closeness and tenderness.

But not only that. In his faithful love, the Lord invites us in turn to become “angels” for one another, messengers of his presence, to the point where the sickbed can become a “holy place” of salvation and redemption, both for the sick and for those who care for them.

Dear doctors, nurses and health care workers, in caring for your patients, especially the most vulnerable among them, the Lord constantly affords you an opportunity to renew your lives through gratitude, mercy, and hope (cf. Spes Non Confundit, 11). He calls you to realize with humility that nothing in life is to be taken for granted and that everything is a gift from God; to enrich your lives with the sense of humanity we experience when, beyond appearances, only the things that matter remain: the small and great signs of love. Allow the presence of the sick to enter your lives as a gift, to heal your hearts, to purify them of all that is not charity, and to warm them with the ardent and gentle fire of compassion.

I have much in common with you at this time of my life, dear brothers and sisters who are sick: the experience of illness, of weakness, of having to depend on others in so many things, and of needing their support. This is not always easy, but it is a school in which we learn each day to love and to let ourselves be loved, without being demanding or pushing back, without regrets and without despair, but rather with gratitude to God and to our brothers and sisters for the kindness we receive, looking towards the future with acceptance and trust. The hospital room and the sickbed can also be places where we hear the voice of the Lord speak to us: “Behold, I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” (Is 43:19). In this way, we renew and strengthen our faith.

Benedict XVI — who gave us a beautiful testimony of serenity in the time of his illness — wrote that, “the true measure of humanity is essentially determined in relationship to suffering” and that “a society unable to accept its suffering members... is a cruel and inhuman society” (Spe Salvi, 38). It is true: facing suffering together makes us more human, and the ability to share the pain of others is an important step forward in any journey of holiness.

Jubilee of the Sick and Health Care Workers

 The days 5th-6th April 2025 are being marked by the celebration of the Jubilee for the Sick and Health Care Workers. One feature of these days is an evening conference dedicated to considering how palliative care can bring hope to patients who are terminally ill and to their families, hosted by the Pontifical University of the Holy Cross: Hospice=Hope. This report at the Jubilee 2025 website includes an account of a wide range of events that will be taking place across Rome during the Jubilee addressing such issues as the encouragement of blood donation, promoting awareness of issues around addiction and including moments of prayer and Eucharistic adoration: 20 000 people flock to Rome for Jubilee of the Sick and the World of Healthcare.

To reflect on this Jubilee we can take two motifs, one from Pope St John Paul II speaking to the sick in Lourdes in 1983, and the second from the opening words of Pope Francis' message for the World Day of the Sick in 2023:

Before all suffering, those in good health have a first duty: that of respect, sometimes even of silence.... Neither fair, nor unfair, suffering remains, despite partial explanations, difficult to understand and difficult to accept, even for those who have faith.

Illness is part of our human condition. Yet, if illness is experienced in isolation and abandonment, unaccompanied by care and compassion, it can become inhumane.

 When we look at the experience of illness in the life of Blessed Chiara Badano (known in the Focolare by the name "Luce", light), we can see something of both of these motifs. What we can also see is that accompaniment works in two directions: not only did Chiara's parents accompany Chiara in her illness but, in a very real sense, Chiara accompanied them during that time. It was an experience that they lived together. The two most remarkable aspects of Chiara's last weeks of life were, firstly, the extent to which, though unable to leave her bed, she kept in touch with friends from the Focolare movement; and, secondly, her refusal of morphine so that she could remain lucid and offer her suffering to Jesus, as she had no more than that to offer. Chiara exemplifies the three "small lights" - knowledge of the situation, acceptance and oblation - that Pope St John Paul II speaks of during his address to the sick in Lourdes. A full account of Chiara's life can be found here: Chiara Luce Badano - a radiant life. My own earlier posts about Chiara can be found here: Chiara Luce Badano.

Few of us will live the charism of an ecclesial movement with the depth and to the extent that Chiara Badano was able to do. The way in which she lived the time of her illness manifests a formation in that charism that, when her illness occurred, meant that she was able to live it to a heroic extent. 

Professor Jerome Lejeune provides us with a testimony of life of a doctor whose approach to his patients (and their parents) was one of profound respect. His daughter gives an account of the experience typical of families that sought his care when a new born had been diagnosed with Downs Syndrome, with the observation that it was a story they had heard countless times (Clara Lejeune, Life is a Blessing, p.35):

.. we went off to see this famous professor in a big hospital in Paris. It was both intimidating and reassuring. At the same time we thought to ourselves that it was no use. After all, the child's life was ruined.

The professor greeted us with a smile. He was courteous, friendly, but respectful. He turned to the baby, asked his name, and said to him, "Little Pierre, will you come with me?". He took him in his arms, asked the mother to put on a hospital gown, and offered her a seat. She sat down; he put little Pierre in her arms, sat down across from her and the father, and with a stethoscope examined the  child on his mother's lap. For us these simple gestures were like a revelation. It wasn't a patient this doctor was examining; it was our child.

Then he explained everything. What this illness is, what the future will be for the child and for us. He reassured us, responded to all our questions and fears.

Before leaving us he said to us, "If you wish, for your next appointment bring his older sister along. They, too, have the right to know and to understand." We left with our baby, all of us much calmer. He helped us to discover our love as parents.

In the Bull of Indiction (n.11) for the Jubilee Year, Pope Francis identified the sick as being among those to whom a particular sign of hope should be shown in the Jubilee year:

 Signs of hope should also be shown to the sick, at home or in hospital. Their sufferings can be allayed by the closeness and affection of those who visit them. Works of mercy are also works of hope that give rise to immense gratitude. Gratitude should likewise be shown to all those healthcare workers who, often in precarious conditions, carry out their mission with constant care and concern for the sick and for those who are most vulnerable.

Inclusive attention should also be given to all those in particularly difficult situations, who experience their own weaknesses and limitations, especially those affected by illnesses or disabilities that severely restrict their personal independence and freedom. Care given to them is a hymn to human dignity, a song of hope that calls for the choral participation of society as a whole.