Note: This article was published in September of last year on Indian Catholic Matters. It is being shared again at this time in light of Pope Leo XIV’s recent message for the 34^th World Day of the Sick.

In 2022, Pope Francis made a quiet but powerful statement—not through grand speeches or lofty theological declarations, but simply by allowing the world to see his physical vulnerability.

When he appeared in public with the aid of a cane and wheelchair, it was not about his physical need. His visible frailty sent a message far beyond any words could: “It’s okay to show your weakness and be vulnerable. You are still valued, loved, and worthy.”

For the elderly, people with disabilities, and anyone carrying hidden struggles, the late Pope’s example was a reassurance. In a world that celebrates strength, power, control, and flawless appearances, his message was both countercultural and deeply moving.

A World Uncomfortable with Weakness

Today, vulnerability is something many of us avoid—especially in public. Leaders, in particular, are expected to project strength at all times. Even when they face the toughest moments, they are often expected to keep a brave face, to appear unshaken.

Think about Queen Elizabeth II, for example. In her later years, reports suggest that she consciously avoided public appearances in a wheelchair. While there may have been many reasons behind that, it speaks to how uncomfortable our society is with visible vulnerability—especially from those in positions of power.

And it is not just about how we see others or our leaders; it is also about how we see ourselves. We live in a world obsessed with perfection—not that striving for the best is wrong. But from the perfect apple at the grocery store to the polished selfies on social media, we are constantly bombarded with messages about how we should look, behave, and live.

As if that was not enough, we live in a cancel culture that is quick to judge, delete and block. One mistake, one slip-up, and it can go viral. Reputations can be torn down in an instant. The concept of offering second chances—of extending the benefit of the doubt—feels rare. In fact, grace feels hard to come by. So, we learn to hide our cracks, thinking that vulnerability is weakness and weakness is something to be fixed, covered up, or denied.

Confession: Vulnerability as Strength

One of the most beautiful and intimate expressions of vulnerability in Catholic life is the Sacrament of Confession. The world tells us to hide our flaws. The Church, in contrast, invites us to bring them forward—to name them honestly, to seek healing, and to be renewed. In confession, we stand before God not as perfect people, but as people in need of mercy. And instead of rejection, we find love.

Confession is not about shame. It is about truth. It is about saying, “I can’t do this on my own. I need help.” That takes courage. And that courage is what begins the process of transformation. Each time we go to confession, we are reminded that God does not demand perfection—He desires our hearts. And in offering Him our brokenness, we allow His grace to do what we cannot.

That act of vulnerability—so private, so honest—helps us live with greater humility, compassion, and freedom. We are not expected to have it all together. We are simply asked to be real.

The Deeper Meaning: A Theological View of Vulnerability

Vulnerability is not just emotional or psychological—it is deeply theological. As theologian Luis Granados writes, “Vulnerability is not something we overcome; it is always with us. Fragility is not a flaw in our design—it is part of what makes us human.”

Christianity teaches us that our dependence on God and one another is not a defect; it’s a doorway to grace. When we accept our fragility, we make space for God’s strength to enter in. Pope Francis often spoke about Christ’s “gentleness and lowliness,” reminding us that those qualities aren’t weaknesses—they are signs of divine love.

Jesus did not come as a warrior king. He came as a servant—riding a donkey, washing feet, and ultimately laying down His life. His vulnerability was not incidental; it was central to His mission.

Letting Go of the Mask

There’s deep freedom in admitting we are not invincible. When we let go of the act, when we admit our struggles and weaknesses, something beautiful happens—we make space for real connection. We allow others to be real, too. We become more approachable, more human, more relatable.

Pope Francis’s physical frailty did not diminish his authority; it enhanced it. If anything, it made his leadership feel more authentic. People could see themselves in him—not as a distant, untouchable figure, but as a fellow pilgrim on the same journey.

Carrying Our Crosses—Together

Every person we meet is carrying something, whether it is grief, fear, doubt, or unspoken pain. While not all burdens are visible, they are always deeply felt.

Pope Leo XIV recently reflected on this in his message for the World Day of the Sick, using the story of the Good Samaritan. He reminded us that love isn’t distant or abstract; it draws near, notices, and chooses to stay. In a world that moves fast and often looks away, true compassion means letting someone else’s pain touch you enough that you respond.

From his message, we can take four simple but powerful lessons:

1. Draw Near to the Suffering: Love isn’t passive. It stops, sees, and stays with those in pain.
2. Compassion is Relational: Caring for the sick, the elderly, and the vulnerable happens in connection with others—family, neighbors, and communities all play a part.
3. Love is Active, Not Passive: Like the Good Samaritan, we act. We tend wounds, offer support, and make sure no one suffers alone.
4. Serve Through Christ’s Love: Helping others is a way of joining in Christ’s mercy. In caring for the suffering, we make God’s tenderness visible in everyday life.

When we approach others with empathy, we see that suffering is something we all share. Christianity isn’t about pretending we are strong on our own; it’s about walking together, supporting one another, and discovering grace in that shared journey.

In fact, when we unite them with Christ’s suffering, they become part of a greater story of redemption. As St. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4:7, “We hold this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.”

Our fragility becomes the very thing that reveals God’s power.

Love and Virtue Flow from Vulnerability

Vulnerability does more than reveal our need—it reveals our capacity to love. As theologian Luis Granados puts it, “the heart comes alive when it allows itself to be touched, wounded, and moved. Love always involves risk. It opens us to both pain and joy, mercy, and transformation.”

St. Thomas Aquinas saw this connection clearly. He taught that true greatness (or magnanimity) isn’t about arrogance. It is rooted in humility. It is about doing great things, all while knowing that everything good comes from God.

Vulnerability, then, is not a detour on the path to virtue. It is the very soil in which virtue grows.

A Call to Action: Care for the Vulnerable

This theology is not just personal; it is social. It calls us to look around and care for the vulnerable in our communities.

In Evangelii Gaudium, Pope Francis called the poor and marginalized “the little ones” with whom Christ identifies. The Church is not called just to defend the vulnerable but to walk alongside them, listen to them, and be transformed by their witness. The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith calls this an “ethics of care”—one that honors human dignity, especially where it is most fragile. And in its most dramatic form, as theologian Luis Granados writes, “this call to care for the vulnerable becomes martyrdom. Martyrs are not fearless—they are faithful. They stake their lives on the love of Christ, even when it costs them everything. Their vulnerability becomes a final, powerful testimony of trust in God.”

Living the Hidden Strength

So, how can we live out this “hidden strength” of vulnerability in our daily lives? Here are four simple but powerful invitations:

1. Acknowledge your fragility: Accept your limitations without shame. They are part of your story, and they make room for grace. (Mt 11:29)
2. Open your heart to love: Love is risky, but it is worth it. Let your heart be touched, moved, and even wounded. That is how we grow.
3. Serve the weak: Look around you. Who needs your compassion today? Vulnerability in service is a mark of real strength. (Evangelii Gaudium 209)
4. Trust in Christ’s wounds: After the Resurrection, Jesus still bore the marks of His crucifixion. His wounds were not erased, they were glorified. Yours can be too.

In Our Vulnerability, We Are Seen

As Pope Francis once said, “The world tells us to hide our scars, but God tells us to show them so that His mercy can shine through.”

In a world that constantly pressures us to be perfect, the Church should be a place where vulnerability is welcomed, not shamed. Let’s be a Church that welcomes people just as they are—canes, wheelchairs, tears, doubts, and all. Because in God’s eyes, our weakness is not something to overcome. It is where His love takes root and finds its home.

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Image: “Wheel Chairs” (CC BY 2.0) by Stephen Barrett