During this Jubilee Year of Mercy, Pope Francis has continually asked us to recall the love and mercy of God. We have been reflecting on the works of mercy to remind ourselves of how to live that mercy in our lives.

So far, from among the Spiritual Works of Mercy, we have in this column considered instructing the ignorant, counseling the doubtful, admonishing sinners, bearing wrongs patiently and forgiving offences willingly. The next Spiritual Work of Mercy is comforting the afflicted.

At first glance, this work of mercy seems understandable and even attractive. Who of us cannot picture ourselves consoling someone in grief, being a source of strength and calm? We recognize that such an action would not only be good but would affirm the image we probably wish for ourselves. However, like other works of mercy, it is included in the list as a reminder because it often is not easy.

Not infrequently, consoling the afflicted can involve approaching someone who is distraught or frightened by bad news or the suddenly very uncertain future. For many people, the difficulty of comforting the afflicted begins by personally sharing the understandable emotional agitation of the sorrowing person.

It can be challenging and even disturbing for us to engage those emotions displayed by others. For many, the temptation is not to contact someone in that state. Perhaps we can wait for another moment, a time when the agitation has passed? But in fact, it is precisely in a moment like that when the consolation of one reaching out is most welcome, and most needed.

Along with the challenge to our emotions can come a further difficulty that we need to overcome in consoling the afflicted. That is the realization that often there is nothing that we can say or do that will change the source of their sorrow.

When we visit or speak to someone who has just lost a loved one, how often we feel our own human powerlessness of standing before death. To take their hand and say “I am so sorry for your loss” seems so little at that moment. To visit someone who is ill or in the hospital or who has lost a job and say “I will be praying for you” cannot simply be empty words. We must commit to following up by prayers at home or at Mass on Sunday.

We should never lose sight of the fact that the consolation that we bring is rooted in our faith. We bring to others the good news that Christ is with each of us in our sufferings. That will not take away our sufferings. But it gives every person reason to go forward, even in grief. Jesus Himself went through the sufferings of the cross, aware that His pain had meaning for us in eternity. Mary stood by helpless, consoling her son but consoled herself by the presence of John and the other women.

It can be a temptation not only personally but societally to avoid the pain of consoling others. Consider in our time the recent advancement of laws allowing for assisted suicide. How often is the discussion of whether someone’s life is no longer meaningful a loss of the bedrock medical commitment to assisting the sick and respecting their dignity. Those moments of final care and consolation, even if at times drawn out and uncertain of when God will call them home, can be a period of deepened love, of reconciliation from long ago hurts or of conversion.

In the end, our consolation of the afflicted is an act of mercy that conveys profound hope. We give the hope of Jesus to others. And at the same time, it moves us to reflect on the road to eternal life that each of us must walk.

That road will always have moments of difficulty. How glad we are when others will be there to help us along. Our act of mercy is to accompany others as well, always keeping our eyes on Christ who is calling us.