One of the most serious sins of our contemporary society in the global village in which we live is “indifference,” as Pope Francis has frequently pointed out to us.

Nineteen children brutally murdered in a school in Texas. Thousands of lives cut short in Ukraine in recent months because of the war. Hundreds of thousands dead or seriously ill in the last two years due to the devastating global pandemic. Fifty-three undocumented immigrants die, asphyxiated in a truck trying to cross the border into the United States from Mexico. An attack on a Nigerian Catholic church leaves at least 50 dead, among them many children. An increasing number of women prostituting themselves in our streets before our eyes. Thousands of homeless people trying to find shelter under the bridges.

In the face of so much pain, I constantly ask Jesus that I should not grow calluses on my conscience. I want to continue suffering along with any man or woman in this world, united in the blood of Christ. I want to have a mindful conscience, so that news like this will urge me to run and kneel before the tabernacle, asking pardon for not being a better witness of love, joy or forgiveness.

At the beginning of each Eucharist, we are invited to examine our conscience so that we may receive more perfectly the graces that come from this sacrament. Every night before going to bed, the Liturgy of the Hours invites me to examine my conscience and to pray like Simeon: “Lord, now you let your servant go in peace ... my own eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared” (Luke 2:29-30).

I can sleep in peace only because Jesus’ great mercy has allowed me to live another day, making use of the best of my intellectual and physical abilities in those last 24 hours to work for justice, freedom, purity, gratitude and respect among all the people around me. I can rest because my eyes have seen his salvation in so many Christians who continue to serve cheerfully and quietly in the streets, in offices and in the privacy of their homes, in accordance with their consciences and Christian vocation, without ever giving up, despite the devastating daily news.

At the end of our lives, when the Lord calls us into his presence, if he sees us arrive with a bleeding soul, he will undoubtedly recognize us immediately as his faithful disciples who have persevered with him in his trials, and he will welcome us with an overflowing, joyful heart, saying: “Good servant, since you were faithful in small matters, come, share your master’s joy” (Matthew 25:23).

Christians by vocation are not called to be successful. Success belongs to the Lord, who in his endless wisdom decides the ways and times. We are responsible for having a conscience that is awake and without calluses, formed in such a way that he can use us at any time, place or circumstance, no matter how impossible it may seem to the world: A mindful conscience, like Jesus.

Northwest Catholic — August/September 2022