Delivered by Sr. Maureen Uloma Dike, DCPB, on behalf of CIWA at the National Jubilee of Hope – Elele, Rivers State. Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, for He has visited and redeemed His people! (Luke 1:68) Beloved brothers and sisters in Christ—our esteemed bishops, priests, deacons, consecrated men and women, distinguished members of the lay faithful. Greetings of peace and joy of the Risen Christ, as we gather for this National Jubilee of Hope, convoked by the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria. But let us be clear from the start: this is no mere event. This is not another beautifully organized Church ceremony. The Jubilee Year, as proclaimed by Pope Francis in Spes non confundit—Hope does not disappoint—is not simply to be observed, but to be lived. It is not a ritual. It is a radical invitation to conversion, to mercy, to social and spiritual reset. Why Hope? Why Now? Let us begin with hope itself, for we cannot speak of renewal unless we first grasp what has been dimmed. Hope is not a shallow optimism; it is a theological virtue, a confident trust that God’s promises will never fail even when everything around us collapses (Catechism of the Catholic Church, CCC 1817–1821). As St. Paul proclaims, “Hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Romans 5:5). Pope Francis, in his Apostolic Bull Spes non confundit—which opened this Jubilee Year—reminds us that hope is “the thread of history woven with God’s fidelity, never separating even when human hearts grow weary” (Spes non confundit, §2). Yet our age is one where hope has been weakened and blurred. Violence, corruption, social injustice, and spiritual indifference have numbed the hearts of many. The Holy Father laments in the Bull that “when people lose the ability to hope, they begin to close in on themselves and lose sight of the future” (Spes non confundit, §4). It is into this clouded horizon that the Jubilee resounds like a trumpet blast of renewal, saying: Lift up your hearts, for hope can be reborn! Renewed hope is never static; it is a living movement, a ripple that begins in one heart and spreads to families, communities, and nations. The Old Testament Jubilee described in Leviticus 25 was precisely this: a divine interruption that freed slaves, forgave debts, and restored land. Jesus fulfilled it when He declared in the synagogue of Nazareth, “Today this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing” (Luke 4:18–19). Spes non confundit urges us to embody this same dynamic: “Jubilee is not nostalgia for the past but a concrete commitment to shape a future of justice and mercy” (Spes non confundit, §8). One simple act of mercy—a debt forgiven, a sick person visited, a child’s school fees paid, a prisoner’s release secured—has the power to kindle chains of transformation. Pope St. John Paul II, in the Bull Incarnationis mysterium for the Great Jubilee of 2000, wrote: “A single gesture of forgiveness can change the course of history” (§12). Imagine Nigeria if every Catholic pledged just one concrete sign of Jubilee hope each week—within a year, schools would have fewer dropouts, hospitals would turn away no one, families long estranged would reconcile, and prisons would no longer overflow with petty detainees. Renewal would cease to be an idea; it would become visible, touchable, lived reality. This is the very heart of Pope Francis’ invitation in Spes non confundit: to be “Pilgrims of Hope” who carry grace into real life. The Holy Father insists that this Jubilee must be marked by signs of hope that touch the flesh of the poor, the sick, the forgotten (Spes non confundit, §15). He reminds us that “local is global”—what happens in Elele resounds in Rome, and what begins in a single parish echoes in the universal Church (Spes non confundit, §21). The Dogmatic Constitution Lumen Gentium also teaches that the Church is “a sign and instrument of intimate union with God and of the unity of all mankind” (LG §1). So, when we live mercy here, we are participating in the same movement that opens Holy Doors in St. Peter’s Basilica, and in other parts of the world. Our local acts become part of a global work of hope, making the invisible bond of communion in Christ a tangible witness to the world. As Pope Leo XIV recently says, ‘ Where pain is deep, even stronger must be the hope born of communion’- a hope that never disappoint’ ( Pope Leo XIV at the jubilee of consolation in Rome, Sept 15 2025) To forgive, to serve, to heal is to open a human Holy Door, a doorway through which God Himself enters the lives of others. Pope Francis taught during the Jubilee of Mercy that “Christ Himself is the Door: through Him we enter and experience the merciful love of the Father” (Misericordiae Vultus, §3). Holy Doors are not only wooden structures in cathedrals—they are you and me when we choose to be living signs of God’s mercy. Every handshake of reconciliation, every loaf of bread shared with the hungry, every word of dignity spoken to the forgotten becomes a sacred threshold. Through it, those who have lost trust can step into renewed hope. Through it, Christ Himself walks into the brokenness of our society, transforming wounds into testimonies. In this sense, as Spes non confundit beautifully states, “Each believer is called to become a living sanctuary of hope, where God’s future already touches the present” (§23). Jubilee, then, is not a ceremony we attend; it is a life we live. It asks for more than applause or good intentions—it demands conversion, creativity, and courage. It challenges us to move from words to works, from comfort to compassion, from waiting for others to act to becoming the first to love. When you forgive a neighbor, you heal a nation. When you serve the poor, you elevate the Church. When you reconcile with someone you once rejected, you mirror God’s own heart. This is the power of Jubilee: one person, one act, one community at a time, making hope new again. Jubilee Cannot Be Ceremonial Brothers and sisters, if all we do this year is attend beautiful liturgies, processions, and talks, then the Jubilee will remain sterile. Jubilee must touch flesh. It must smell like mercy. It must sound like debts canceled, hospital bills waived, children returning to school, prisoners restored to dignity, and families healed. We long—not to hear about Jubilee in the abstract, but to see and feel it. Imagine this: Catholic hospitals setting specific days for free treatments for common ailments, maternal care, and surgeries for those who cannot afford them. Catholic schools in every diocese identifying children whose parents are drowning in hardship and saying: For this Jubilee, your fees are waived or drastically reduced. Catholic business owners and parishes calling their debtors and saying, your debt is forgiven as part of this Holy Year. Lay associations visiting police stations, paying small fines, and releasing those unjustly detained and giving them a renewed life. Lawyers in Catholic Professional Guilds offering free legal services to the voiceless. Parishes organizing Jubilee Missions to settle old village disputes and bring enemies to the table of reconciliation. Catholic farmers and traders donating food hampers weekly for the hungry. Clinics in rural villages run by religious sisters opening mobile medical outreaches at no cost at least once a month. Youth groups organizing skills training and helping unemployed youths start micro-businesses. Catholic women visiting orphanages and elderly homes, not only with food but with love, advocacy, and dignity. Prison apostolate going beyond Mass to helping inmates reintegrate into society—assisting with vocational skills, reconciling them with their families. Parish finance councils taking this year to audit and publish transparent accounts, showing the Church can model integrity. Catholic professionals in politics and governance pledging publicly: This year, I will not take a bribe; I will not steal public funds; I will govern with integrity because it is Jubilee. Families opening their homes to neighbors in need—hosting a child who dropped out of school or an elderly widow abandoned by her own. And even the simplest: Catholics reconciling with separated siblings, forgiving old hurts, and restoring broken family ties. These—fifteen living signs of Jubilee—is what we long to see. Not a mere ritual, but a society restructured by grace. From Scripture to the Streets Beloved in Christ, Acts 4 tells us that after Pentecost, the early Christians “shared everything in common; there was not a needy person among them.” (Acts 4:32-35). This is what Jubilee looks like when lived. Revelation 21 gives the final vision—God will wipe away every tear, there will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain. But God wipes tears through us. Pope Francis repeatedly said: “The Church must smell like the sheep.” If this Jubilee does not smell like hospital disinfectant, like prison corridors, like markets where women cry over debts, like the hands of youth planting trees in dishonored land—then it is still too far from the Gospel. Yes, the Church in Nigeria is doing something great in, our hospitals, schools, prison apostolates, and care for the elderly—but it is not yet enough for the much begging for attention. We are called to do more. To dream bigger. To stretch farther. A Challenge to Every Heart So, what does this mean for you? It means Jubilee must start in your own home. Call that person you’ve refused to forgive. Cancel that small debt someone owes you. Visit that old parent you abandoned in the village. Sponsor that neighbor’s child back to school. Give your worker a just wage this month. For parishes and dioceses, it means making visible commitments: organize at least one free medical outreach; identify families who cannot afford fees; pay off their debts; sponsor a youth training program; do something that smells like mercy. For Catholic professionals, it means changing how you work. If you are a doctor, lawyer, teacher, trader, civil servant—this year, be the hand of God’s justice and compassion. A Movement, Not a Moment Beloved in Christ, if every Catholic here today commits to one act of mercy each week, imagine how Nigeria will look in twelve months. If every parish in Nigeria waives fees for 20 children, treats 50 patients for free, releases 10 prisoners detained unjustly, reconciles three families, and audits its finances for integrity—this country will know Jubilee. Pope Leo XIV says: ‘What greater liberation can we hope to achieve than that which comes from forgiveness, which, through grace can open the heart despite having suffered all kinds of brutality? The violence suffered cannot be erased, but the forgiveness granted to those who caused it is a foretaste of the kingdom of God on earth, it is the fruit of his action that puts an end to evil and establishes justice.’ Jubilee is not in Rome alone. Jubilee is here in Elele, in your village, in your office, in your market stall, in your heart. Hope Does Not Disappoint We have reflected on the biblical roots of Jubilee. We have heard Jesus proclaim it as present reality. We have seen how our nation bleeds and longs for hope. We have envisioned concrete, doable acts—fifteen ways Jubilee can touch our people in hospitals, schools, prisons, police cells, families, and streets. Now, do not let this remain words. When you leave this place, ask yourself: What will I do this week to make Jubilee real for someone else? Will you forgive? Will you give? Will you heal? Will you speak truth? Will you serve mercy? Because a personal conversion plus communal action equals national renewal.