(LifeSiteNews) — My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, thank you for joining me for another episode of A Shepherd’s Voice.

“By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love one for another” (John 13:35).

Our Lord Jesus Christ spoke those words on the night He was betrayed—when Judas had already arranged the price of silver, when Peter would soon deny Him, and when the garden of Gethsemane lay heavy with sorrow. The scourging and the Cross were near. And still, He gave this command—not as a suggestion, but as a mark of identity.

So we ask the question today: do they know we are His… by our love? Not the soft love of sentiment. Not the sterile love of diplomacy. But the kind of love that carries the Cross—and carries one another.

Segment I: The crucified command

“A new commandment I give unto you: That you love one another, as I have loved you…” (John 13:34).

This was the voice of the Lamb preparing for slaughter. He knew the mallet and nails were ready. He knew His Bride—the Church—would fail, fall, and rise again. And yet, He said, “As I have loved you…” What kind of love was that? It was the bleeding kind. The kind that bore every burden. The kind that didn’t shrink from filth or wounds or betrayal. And that is the kind of love He commanded us to mirror.

St. John of the Cross said, “Where there is no love, put love—and you will draw out love” (Sayings of Light and Love, No. 43). That’s not just spiritual wisdom—it’s a call to action.

Segment II: Love bears all things

“Bear ye one another’s burdens: and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

This doesn’t mean simply tolerating one another or keeping a polite distance. It means to bear—to shoulder, to bleed with, to suffer alongside. St. John Chrysostom preached, “If you see a brother in distress, do not remain unconcerned… If you cannot help with money, help with words. If not with words, then with prayers.” (Homily on Galatians).

Do we live this way? Are we known by a love that sacrifices? Or have we made Christianity into a spectator sport—watching others suffer while we sit comfortably, spiritually detached?

Segment III: Simon of Cyrene and us

When the Cross became too heavy for Our Lord, Simon of Cyrene was forced to carry it. But in carrying it, something happened—he was changed. The Fathers tell us that by touching the weight of Christ’s burden, Simon touched the wounds of divine love.

St. Alphonsus Liguori wrote, “If we would please the heart of God, we must suffer with Jesus Christ. The soul that loves Jesus Christ desires to be treated as He was—poor, despised, and crucified.” (The Passion and Death of Jesus Christ, Ch. 3).

To bear one another’s burden is to join Simon. It’s to step under the weight of the Church’s suffering. Not just to criticize from a distance—but to lift, to sweat, and to walk alongside.

Segment IV: The Church bleeds still

Today the Church is bleeding. Her children are confused. Her doctrine is distorted. Her shepherds are silent or scattered. Her martyrs die— in Nigeria, in Gaza, in China, and in forgotten towns no one will ever report. And even within our own parishes: cancer, depression, betrayal, addiction, poverty. These wounds are not abstract. They are Christ’s wounds because they are our wounds.

“Now we that are stronger, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and not to please ourselves” (Romans 15:1).

If we love the Church, we will not just grieve over Her— we will carry Her.

Segment V: Carrying the wounded

“If a man be overtaken in any fault, you, who are spiritual, instruct such a one in the spirit of meekness… Bear ye one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:1–2).

St. Benedict taught, “Support with the greatest patience one another’s infirmities, whether of body or of character” (Rule of St. Benedict, Ch. 72). That means we walk with the weak, not walk away. That means correction that includes compassion; truth with tears—not triumphalism or smugness.

It’s easier to preach about holiness than to carry someone who’s failed. But if we are following Christ, we will stoop to lift the fallen.

Segment VI: St. Monica and the love that waits

St. Monica carried her son Augustine’s soul like a living Cross. For 17 years she prayed and wept for his conversion. And when it finally came, Augustine wrote of her, “She had carried me more in prayer than she ever did in the womb” (Confessions, Book 9, Ch. 8).

This is love that bears all things. To not give up. To stand beside a soul when others walk away. How many parents, siblings, spouses, and friends are still carrying lost souls in prayer? Don’t stop. The Lord sees every step of love’s endurance.

Segment VII: The blood of the martyrs bears us

Tertullian said, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.” (Apologeticus, Ch. 50) They did not simply speak the truth—they carried it, through pain and loss and death.

Are we willing to carry even one soul?

When a man was chosen to die in Auschwitz, St. Maximilian Kolbe stepped forward and said, “I am a Catholic priest. Let me take his place.” That is love. That is what marks us as His.

Segment VIII: The Eucharist, where we carry Him

“Come to me, all you that labour, and are burdened, and I will refresh you” (Matthew 11:28).

In every Holy Hour, in every moment of Adoration, we go to the One who bore all. Christ is not indifferent to our burdens—He carries them still in the Eucharist. And when we adore Him, we carry the Church with Him.

St. Padre Pio wrote, “Let us always bear in mind that God does not reward results but effort. Let us take courage—even when exhausted—and continue carrying the Cross with love.” (Letters, Vol. 3).

Your prayer life is not passive. It is active, powerful, and essential. When you kneel before Christ in the tabernacle, you are lifting His Body. You are carrying the Bride with the Bridegroom.

Segment IX: Are you bearing any soul?

Ask yourself: Who am I carrying? A daughter in sin? A priest in crisis? A friend who’s left the Church? A fellow Catholic who feels lost?

If we are not carrying someone, we are not fulfilling the law of Christ. This is not an abstract rule—it is a concrete call to intercession, accompaniment, and love.

“We have known, and have believed the charity, which God hath to us. God is charity: and he that abideth in charity, abideth in God, and God in him” (1 John 4:16).

This is how the world will know Him—in us.

Conclusion: A Church that carries, a love that saves

This is how the world will know: not by banners, not by online debates, and not by titles. But by whether we carry the broken with the same arms that Christ stretched out on the Cross.

“By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you have love one for another” (John 13:35).

Let that love be sacrificial. Let it cost us. Let it carry the weary. Let it mark us as His.

So what does that look like? It looks like quietly offering your Holy Communion for someone who’s abandoned the faith. It looks like fasting for a family member caught in sin. It looks like sitting beside a sick friend at midnight because no one else would. It looks like mentoring a struggling young Catholic—patiently, faithfully, over time. It looks like defending the unborn, even when it makes you hated. It looks like staying loyal to the Church when shepherds fail—and loving Her more in Her wounds. It looks like comforting a parent with a child in prison, or a widow who grieves alone. It looks like spending time in Adoration not just for yourself—but for the whole world.

This love is not glamorous. It does not trend. But it saves souls. It proves to Heaven and Earth that we are not our own—we belong to Christ.

And now, dear brothers and sisters, as I close, may I offer you this blessing:

May the Sacred Heart of Jesus—pierced for love of you—ignite your heart with a love that carries, may He strengthen your shoulders to bear the burdens of the weak, and may He guide your steps along the road of sacrificial mercy.

May you be known as His disciples—not by what you say, but by how you love.

And may Almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

This transcript was originally published on Bishop Strickland’s Substack page.