“In today’s Gospel, we meet two kinds of people. First, there is a man with a withered hand. And second, there is a group of people with withered hearts.
The man’s problem is visible. You can see his weakness right away. His hand is damaged, limited, perhaps a source of shame. Everyone can notice it.
But the other group—the Pharisees—carry something far more serious. Their sickness is hidden. Their hearts have become rigid, cold, and closed. No bandage can fix it. No medicine can heal it—unless they allow God to touch them.
And this is where the Gospel becomes very personal for us today.
A withered hand happens when something is injured, weakened, or unable to function as it should. Life can do that to us. Pain, sickness, loss, disappointment, failure—these can leave us wounded. But a wounded person often knows he needs help. Like the man in the Gospel, he comes to the synagogue. He places himself before Jesus. There is humility there. There is hope.
A withered heart, however, develops slowly—and quietly.
It happens when a person stops feeling.
When compassion dries up. When rules matter more than people. When being right becomes more important than being kind.
The Pharisees were not evil people. They were religious. They knew the law. They attended worship. But over time, their hearts hardened. They were so focused on protecting the Sabbath that they forgot the God of the Sabbath.
And that can happen to us today.
A heart becomes withered when we get used to suffering—so used to it that it no longer moves us. We see poverty every day, so we stop noticing. We hear stories of broken families, injustice, wounded creation—and we shrug and say, “That’s just how things are.”
A heart becomes withered when faith turns into mere routine. When prayers are said but love is not practiced. When we follow religious rules, yet ignore the wounded person right beside us.
A heart becomes withered when fear takes over. Fear of criticism. Fear of breaking norms. Fear of getting involved.
So we stay silent—like the Pharisees. And the Gospel says: they remained silent.
That silence is dangerous. Because silence in the face of suffering is already a choice.
Jesus, on the other hand, shows us a different way.
He does not ask the man many questions. He does not debate endlessly. He does not wait for the “perfect time.” He simply chooses love. And then He asks a question that still echoes today: “Is it lawful to do good, or to do evil?”
Not doing good when we can—that, too, can be a form of evil.
Then Jesus asks the man to do something very simple, yet very brave:
“Stretch out your hand.”
The man stretches out what is weak. What is damaged. What he might have hidden for years. And in that moment—he is healed.
Brothers and sisters, the Gospel is reminding us today: It is better to have a withered hand than a withered heart.
Because a wounded hand can be healed.
But a hardened heart must first learn how to love again.
May we ask the Lord today: “Lord, soften my heart. Do not let my faith grow cold.
Do not let my religion make me blind.
Teach me to choose compassion—always.”
And may we become a Church that stretches out its hand to the wounded, instead of folding its arms in judgment.”