5th Easter Sunday (year A)  [3 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (6:1-7)

Paradoxically, the problem facing the early Christian community arose from its very success. In those days, as the number of disciples grew, the Greek-speaking believers began to grumble against the Hebrew-speaking ones (Acts 6:1). The numbers were growing so rapidly that maintaining unity became difficult. Every expanding group faces the same question: how to remain united when numbers grow? Numerous, and therefore diverse. In truth, the seeds of this difficulty were already present on the morning of Pentecost. In Jerusalem lived devout Jews from every nation under heaven (cf. Acts 2:5). On that day there were three thousand conversions, and others followed in the months and years that followed. All were Jews, for the question of non-Jews arose only later, but many were Jews who had come to Jerusalem on pilgrimage from all over the Empire. These were the Jews of the Diaspora known as Hellenists: their mother tongue was neither Hebrew nor Aramaic, but Greek, which was then the common language throughout the Mediterranean. Thus, the young community immediately found itself facing the ‘challenge of languages’. And we know that the language barrier is much more than a mere difficulty of translation: a different mother tongue means different cultures, customs, and ways of understanding life and solving problems. If language is a net cast over the reality of things, a different language is another net, and the meshes rarely coincide. The practical problem that arose in Jerusalem was the care of widows. Looking after them was a rule of the Jewish world and the community did so willingly, but those managing the service, recruited from the majority Hebrew-speaking group, tended to favour the widows of their own group, whilst the Greek-speaking widows were neglected. These complaints could only grow more bitter, until they reached the ears of the apostles. Their reaction can be summarised in three points. First: they summoned the entire assembly of disciples because every decision is taken in plenary session, given that the Church functions synodally: Why then has this been lost? Second: they recalled the objective. It is a matter of remaining faithful to three demands of apostolic life: prayer, the ministry of the Word and the service of the brothers and sisters. Third: they are not afraid to propose a new organisation. Innovation is not unfaithfulness; on the contrary: faithfulness demands the ability to adapt to new circumstances. Being faithful does not mean remaining fixated on the past, for example by entrusting all tasks to the Twelve simply because they were chosen by Jesus. Being faithful means keeping one’s eyes fixed on the goal, and the goal, as the evangelist John writes, is ‘that they may be one so that the world may believe’ (Jn 17:21). Accepting diversity is the challenge facing every growing community, and when conflicts arise, splitting up is not the best solution; this is why the apostles do not consider dividing the community in two, with Greeks on one side and Jews on the other. The Holy Spirit has brought about numerous and diverse conversions and now inspires the apostles to organise themselves differently to deal with the consequences. The Twelve therefore decide to appoint men capable of taking on the task of serving at the tables, since that is where the problem arises: “Brothers, choose seven of you, men respected by all, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, and we will entrust this task to them. We, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and the ministry of the Word’. The seven chosen all bear Greek names: they were therefore almost certainly part of the group of Greek-speaking Christians, from whom the complaints had come. Thus a new institution is born: these servants of the community do not yet have a title, and the text does not use the word ‘deacon’. Although we must not be too quick to identify these men with today’s deacons, one thing remains clear: in every age, the Spirit inspires innovations that are indispensable for faithfully fulfilling the Church’s various missions and priorities. 

Responsorial Psalm (32/33)

I shall begin where the reading of this psalm ends, for there lies a key to understanding the whole. I return to the penultimate verse, verse 18: “The Lord’s eye is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love.” Here we discover a beautiful definition of “fear of God”: to fear the Lord is simply to place our hope in his love. The believer, in the biblical sense, is a person full of hope; and if they are so, whatever happens, it is because they know that ‘the earth is full of his love’, as verse 5, which we have just heard, says. Knowing that the Lord’s loving gaze is always upon us is the source of our hope. I should point out that, in the Hebrew text, the name ‘Lord’ is the one revealed to Moses in the burning bush: the four-letter name YHWH which, out of respect, Jews never pronounce, and which means something like ‘I am, I will be with you, from everlasting to everlasting, in every moment of your history’. This name reminds Israel of the care with which God surrounded his people throughout the Exodus. If we translate it as ‘God watches over’, this vigilance is well conveyed. Thus we understand the following verse: ‘to deliver him from death and sustain him in times of famine’ (v. 19). These are allusions to the exodus from Egypt: by leading the people across the sea on dry ground behind Moses, the Lord saved the people from the certain death decreed by the Pharaoh; then, by sending manna from heaven in the desert, he truly nourished his people in times of famine. Then praise flows spontaneously from the heart of those who have experienced God’s care: “Rejoice, O righteous ones, in the Lord; for the upright, praise is beautiful” (v. 1). The expression “the upright” may surprise us, yet it is common in the Bible. One is considered upright/righteous who enters into God’s plan, who is united with God like a well-tuned musical instrument. This is said of Abraham: Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6). He had faith, that is, he trusted in God and in his plan. Therefore, we could translate “righteous men”, in Hebrew hassidim, as “the men of the Covenant”, or “the men of God’s merciful plan”: those who have accepted the revelation of God’s benevolence and respond to it by adhering to the Covenant. These titles, “righteous men” and “upright men”, do not denote moral qualities, for the hassid is a man like any other, a sinner like any other, but he lives within the Lord’s Covenant; he lives in trust in the faithful God. And since he has discovered the God of tenderness and faithfulness, quite logically he lives in praise: “Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous; praise is fitting for the upright.” This call to praise was the entrance hymn of a liturgy of thanksgiving. We note in passing an indication of how the psalms were performed and of at least one of the instruments used in the Temple of Jerusalem: this psalm was probably intended to be accompanied by a ten-stringed harp. Singing a new song to the Lord does not mean a song never heard before, but a new song in the sense that words of love, even the most familiar ones, are always new. When lovers say ‘I love you’, they are not afraid to repeat the same words, and yet the wonder is that that song is always new. One more note: “The word of the Lord is upright, and all his works are trustworthy” (v. 4). Contrary to appearances, these are not two separate statements, one concerning the word of God and the other concerning his works, because in the Bible the Word of God is already an act in progress: “God said, and it was done,” repeats the account of creation in the first book of Genesis. It is no coincidence that this psalm has twenty-two verses, corresponding to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet: it is a tribute to the Word of God, as if to say that it is the whole of our life, from A to Z. And it is no empty compliment, for Israel recognises that from God’s first word to his people, Israel has simultaneously experienced how the promised Word of liberation is, at the same time, already God’s liberating intervention: in every age, the Word of God calls to freedom, and is at the same time a divine force acting within humanity to secure freedom from all idolatry and all slavery. Finally: “He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the Lord’s love” (v. 5). Here the vocation of the whole of creation is described: God is love, and the earth is called to be a place of love, righteousness and justice. Remember the prophet Micah: ‘O man, it has been taught to you what is good and what the Lord requires of you: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God’ (Mic 6:8).

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:4–9)

In Hebrew, the same verb is used to mean ‘to build a house’, ‘to found a family’ and ‘to found a society’. For this reason, even in the Old Testament, the prophets readily used the language of building to speak of human society. Isaiah, for example, devised a parable: he compared the kingdom of Jerusalem to a building site (Isaiah 28:16–17). On that site there was a remarkable block of stone that was meant to become the cornerstone of the building, but the architects scorned that block and preferred to use stones of poor quality. This was a way of accusing the authorities of abandoning true values to build society on false ones. Over time, it became customary to apply the term ‘cornerstone’ to the Messiah: he would be able to take over and restore God’s building site. Peter, in turn, develops this comparison to speak of Christ. Jesus, the Messiah, is truly the most precious stone that God has placed at the centre of the building; and all people are called upon to become stones in this spiritual edifice. Those who agree to become one with him are integrated into the structure, becoming supporting elements themselves. But of course this is a choice to be made, and people may also choose the opposite path, that is, to reject the project and even sabotage it. Then everything happens for them as if the keystone were not at the heart of the building: it has remained on the ground, an admirable block but a hindrance on the building site. The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone, a stumbling block and a stone of offence (cf. 1 Pet 2:7–8). Our Baptism was the moment of choice. Since then, we have been integrated into the building of what Peter calls the spiritual temple, as opposed to the stone temple in Jerusalem where animal sacrifices were offered. From the beginning of history, humanity has sought to reach God by worshipping him in the way it believes is worthy of him. Along its journey, the chosen people discovered the true face of God and learnt to live within his Covenant. Little by little, in the light of the prophets’ teaching, it was discovered that the true temple of God is humanity itself, and that the only worship worthy of him is love and service to our brothers and sisters, and no longer animal sacrifices. But this places a tremendous responsibility upon us: the temple in Jerusalem was the sign of God’s presence among his people. Now, the sign of God’s presence visible to the world is us, the Church of Christ. Peter’s words then resound as a vocation: “Like living stones, you too are being built into a spiritual house” (1 Pet 2:5). Peter distinguishes between those who entrust themselves to Christ and those who reject him. ‘Believing’ and ‘rejecting’ are two acts of free will, and those who do not accept Christ, Peter affirms, stumble because they do not obey the Word. This was their destiny (cf. v. 5); this phrase speaks only of the consequence of their free choice, not of predestination by God’s arbitrary decision: the liberating God can only respect our freedom. At the presentation of Jesus in the temple, Simeon had announced to Joseph and Mary: ‘He is here for the fall and the rising again of many in Israel’ (cf. Lk 2:34). Simeon does not speak of a necessity willed by God, but of the consequences of Jesus’ coming. In fact, his presence was for some an occasion of total conversion, whilst others hardened their hearts. Peter concludes: ‘ But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood” (1 Pet 2:9). On the day of our Baptism, grafted into Christ, we became members of Christ, the one true “priest, prophet and king”. United with him, we have become part of his holy people; we have acquired a new citizenship, that of the people of God, and our national anthem is now the Alleluia. Peter concludes by telling us that we are charged with proclaiming the marvellous works of the One who has called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.

From the Gospel according to John (14:1–12)

If Jesus begins by saying, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled’ (Jn 14:1), it is because the disciples were not hiding their anguish, and one can understand why. They knew they were surrounded by general hostility and sensed that the countdown had begun. This anguish was compounded, at least for some of them, by a terrible disappointment: “We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel” (from the Romans), the disciples of Emmaus would say (cf. Lk 24:21). The apostles shared this political hope; now their leader is about to be condemned and executed, and their illusions are coming to an end. Jesus sets about redirecting their hope: he will not fulfil the expectations his miracles have raised; he will not lead the national uprising against the occupier; on the contrary, he will not cease to preach non-violence. The liberation he has come to bring lies on another plane: he does not wish to fulfil his people’s earthly and political expectation of the Messiah, but to make them understand that he is the one who has always been awaited. He begins by appealing to their faith, that is, to that fundamental attitude of the Jewish people which we read of in all the psalms, for hope can rest firmly only on faith. This is why Jesus returns repeatedly to these words: ‘believe’, ‘let not your hearts be troubled (for) you believe in God’. Yet it is one thing to believe in God—and this is a given—and quite another to believe in Jesus, precisely at the moment when he seems to have definitively lost the battle. For his contemporaries, to accord Jesus the same faith as God required a tremendous leap, and Jesus seeks to help them perceive the profound unity existing between the Father and himself. Here we have the second key theme of this text: “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (a phrase he repeats twice). And then: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”, and this last phrase resonates in a very special way in the light of what will happen a few hours later, for the revelation of the Father reaches its climax when Jesus dies on the cross. As he dies, Jesus continues to love mankind, all mankind, and even forgives his executioners. It would be necessary to dwell on every sentence of this final conversation between Jesus and his disciples, indeed on each of the words laden with the whole of biblical experience: to know, to see, to abide, to go towards. Every word is at the same time an event, a ‘work’. When he says: ‘I am’, to Jewish ears this clearly evokes God himself, and he dares to say: “I am the way, the truth and the life”, identifying himself with God himself. And at the same time, the Father and he are two distinct persons, for Jesus says: “I am the way” (implied: to the Father). No one comes to the Father except through me. Another way of saying “I am the way” or “I am the gate”, as in the discourse on the Good Shepherd. And when we are united with him, the divine plan of our solidarity in Jesus Christ with the whole of humanity is realised. This is truly a mystery, and we struggle greatly to grasp it, yet it is the very essence of God’s merciful plan, which St Augustine calls the “total Christ”. This solidarity in Jesus Christ is present throughout the New Testament. Paul, for example, evokes it when he speaks of the New Adam and also when he says that Christ is the head of the Body of which we are the members. “The whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth until now” (Rom 8:22): the birth of which he speaks is precisely that of the Body of Christ. Jesus himself very often used the expression ‘Son of Man’ to announce the definitive victory of the whole of humanity gathered together as one man. If we take seriously the expression ‘No one comes to the Father except through me’ and if we consider the solidarity existing among all men in Jesus Christ, then we must also say that Christ does not go to the Father without us. This is the meaning of these words of Jesus: “Where I am, there you will be too”, and again, “When I have gone and prepared a place for you, I will come again and take you to be with me”. Paul affirms this in another way when he writes: “Nothing can ever separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:39). Jesus concludes with a solemn promise: “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do.” After all that Jesus has just said about himself, the term “works” certainly does not refer solely to miracles, for throughout the Old Testament, when the word “work” is used in reference to God, it always refers to God’s great work of liberating his people. This means that the disciples are now associated with the work undertaken by God to free humanity from all physical or moral bondage. This promise of Christ encourages us to believe that, even though history shows the enduring presence of many forms of slavery, this liberation is possible and will come to pass. It is up to each of us to make our own contribution.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Fourth Easter Sunday (year A)  [26 April 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:14a, 36–41)

The account of Peter’s speech in Jerusalem on the morning of Pentecost continues, and since he is now filled with the Holy Spirit, he reads, as it were, an open book in God’s plan. Everything appears clear to him; he recalls the prophet Joel who had announced: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh” (Joel 2:28), and it is evident to him that we are at the dawn of the fulfilment of this promise. Through Jesus, rejected and put to death by men, yet raised and exalted by God, the Spirit has been poured out upon all flesh, and Jewish pilgrims from every corner of the Roman Empire have come to celebrate the feast of Pentecost, the feast of the gift of the Law. During their journey and even upon arriving at the Temple in Jerusalem, the pilgrims sang psalms and implored God for the coming of the Messiah. Peter sought to open their eyes: the Messiah of whom you speak is that Jesus whom you have crucified, and when he declares Jesus to be Lord and Messiah, the Christ, these statements of his certainly seem very bold. If the man from Nazareth is the expected Messiah, this means that all the hope of Israel rests upon Jesus. Peter’s listeners were struck to the heart, says Luke, and Peter certainly knew how to touch their hearts. What must we do, they ask themselves? The answer is simple: repent to save yourselves from this perverse generation, and to repent, in biblical language, is precisely to turn around, to make a U-turn. There are two paths before us, and we often take the wrong one: we must then return to the right path. Peter makes a simple observation: the generation living at the time of Christ and the apostles was faced with a real challenge, namely to recognise in Jesus the Messiah awaited for centuries. Unfortunately, however, Jesus did not possess the characteristics or fulfil the hopes placed in the Messiah, who was imagined as the liberator of the Jewish people; thus, an error of judgement was made and the path was lost. For this reason, Peter calls on everyone to be converted and invites them to receive Baptism: be baptised in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit promised to you, to your children, and to all those who are far off, whom our Lord God will call. Furthermore, for Jews familiar with the study of the Scriptures, Peter recalls the prophecy of Joel – ‘I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh’ – just as his words echo those of the prophet Isaiah concerning the peace and covenant desired by God with the people of Israel (cf. Is 49:1; 57:19). It was precisely through this Covenant that Israel felt bound to God: they were the chosen people, the son, as the prophet Hosea says (11:1), whilst other peoples seemed far from God. When Isaiah then states that peace is also for those who are far away, he recalls that the chosen people have a mission of peace for all humanity, called to enter into what might be called God’s plan of peace. The author notes that on that day three thousand were baptised. He adds that the three thousand Jews who had become Christians were among those whom Peter called ‘neighbours’. Little by little, throughout the Book of Acts, even those who were far off will join those ‘called’ by God. To them, St Paul will say, in his letter to the Ephesians: you who were once far off have now become neighbours through the blood of Christ. And it is Christ, our peace, for ‘of the two, the Jew and the Gentile’, he has made one (Eph 2:14–18).

Responsorial Psalm (22/23)

We encountered Psalm 22/23 on the Fourth Sunday of Lent.  At the time, I emphasised three points in my commentary: first, the psalms speak of Israel as a whole, even though the speaker uses the first person singular, saying ‘I’; second, to describe its religious experience, Israel uses two comparisons: that of the Levite who finds joy in dwelling in the House of God, and that of the pilgrim who takes part in the sacred meal following the thanksgiving sacrifices. However, one must read between the lines to see that, through these two comparisons, the chosen people feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for God’s gratuitous Covenant. Thirdly, the early Christians recognised in this psalm the privilege of their own experience as the baptised, and Psalm 22/23 became, in the early Church, the hymn for the celebration of Baptism. I shall simply pause at the first verse: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” There are many references in the Bible. The prophet Micah prays thus: Lord, with your staff be the shepherd of your people, the flock that belongs to you, so that the people may perceive themselves as God’s inheritance (cf. Mic 7:14). In Psalm 15/16, however, we find the inverse expression: ‘Lord, my portion and my cup; you determine my lot; the portion that falls to me brings me joy; I truly have the finest inheritance.’ When God is compared to a shepherd and Israel to his flock, one dares to think that the chosen people are a treasure to their God, which is a bold notion, and the use of such language is an invitation to trust, for God is portrayed as a good shepherd—that is, the one who gathers, guides, nourishes, cares for, protects and defends his flock, watching over all its needs. The prophet Micah writes that God will gather together all the remnant of Israel (cf. 2:12), and bring them together as a flock, gathering the lame and the scattered sheep. Zephaniah takes up the same theme: I will save the lame sheep (cf. 3:19), I will gather those who are scattered, which means that whenever we sow division, we are working against God. God, the attentive shepherd, shepherd-guide and defender of his flock. We find this frequently in the Psalms, particularly in Psalm 94/95, which is the daily morning prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours, where we read: ‘We are the people he leads, the flock guided by his hand’. In Psalm 77/78 we read that, like a shepherd, God leads his people, drives his flock into the desert, guides them, defends them, reassures them, and Psalm 79/80 begins with an appeal: “Shepherd of Israel: listen, you who lead Joseph, your flock, reveal your strength and come to save us”. It is clear that in difficult times, when the flock—that is, Israel—feels ill-guided, abandoned, mistreated or, worse still, beaten down, the prophets often turn to the image of the good shepherd to restore hope. It is therefore no surprise to find this theme in Second Isaiah, in the Book of the Consolation of Israel: God, like a shepherd, tends his flock; his arm gathers the lambs, carries them close to his heart, and leads the nursing ewes (cf. 40:11), so that along the roads they may still graze; on the barren heights shall be their pastures; they shall neither hunger nor thirst; the scorching wind and the sun shall no longer strike them, for he, full of compassion, will guide them, lead them to living waters (cf. Is. 49:9–10). Finally, Ezekiel also takes up this theme, saying that thus says the Lord God: “I myself will tend my sheep and search for them, just as a shepherd searches for his flock when he is among his scattered sheep; so I will search for my sheep and rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and thick fog; I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, in the valleys and in all the best places. I will feed them in good pasture, and their grazing grounds will be on the highlands of Israel; there my sheep will lie down in lush pastures and graze in rich pastures. ‘On the mountains of Israel, I myself will tend my flock and let them rest,’ declares the Lord God. ‘The lost sheep I will seek out; the strayed I will bring back; the injured I will bind up; the sick I will strengthen’ (cf. 34:11–16).  Today, in turn, we sing this Psalm 22/23, knowing that Jesus presented himself as the shepherd of the lost sheep, inviting us to place our trust in the tenderness of God the Shepherd. In a time like ours, when our societies are going through days of clouds and gloom, we are invited to contemplate the image of the Good Shepherd and to renew our trust: God, the true Good Shepherd, never abandons us. 

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:20b–25)

Saint Peter addresses a particular social group, slaves, because slavery still existed at that time and, under Roman law, a slave was at the mercy of his master, an object in his hands. It therefore happened that slaves suffered mistreatment at the whim of their masters, and a Christian slave serving a non-Christian master was exposed to even harsher oppression. Peter essentially encourages us to imitate Christ, who was himself a ‘slave out of love’ (cf. Phil 2:7) and who devoted his entire life to the service of all people. How, then, did he behave? When insulted, he did not respond with insults; when made to suffer, he did not threaten, but entrusted himself to the One who judges justly. Saint Peter urges us to endure suffering even when doing good, knowing that it is a grace in God’s eyes to be able to behave like Christ when facing trials. Certainly there is no Christian vocation to suffering, but in suffering there is a call to behave according to the example of Christ. So it is not suffering for the sake of suffering, but imitating Christ, who himself suffered by taking our sins upon himself on the wood of the cross, so that, having died to sin, we might live for righteousness. For by his wounds we have been healed. God has saved us so that we may live for righteousness. We have been healed of our wounds, which are our inability to love and to give, to forgive, to share. Because of original sin, we were far from God and disoriented, wandering like sheep. In Christ, crucified for our sins, we have regained fidelity to God’s plan, and his wounds have healed us. Christ died to bear witness to the truth, remaining faithful to the Father even on the cross. The cross, a place of utter horror and unbridled human hatred, has become the throne of absolute love. In Jesus’ forgiveness of his executioners, we are given the chance to contemplate and believe in God’s love for humanity, revealed in the cross, which can transform and convert us.  The prophet Zechariah reminds us: “They will look upon him whom they have pierced” (cf. 12:10), and this heals us, saves us—that is, it makes us capable once more of loving and forgiving as Christ did. When we allow ourselves to be moved by this absolute love of God, our hearts of stone become hearts of flesh, capable of living as he did. Let us allow ourselves to be transformed by this contagion of mercy so that Christ may continue, through us too, the work of transforming all humanity: He continues to send out disciples “like lambs among wolves” (cf. Lk 10:3; Mt 10:16) so that, following in his footsteps, we may be witnesses everywhere to God’s infinite mercy.  

From the Gospel according to Saint John (10:1-10)

The coherence of this Sunday’s biblical readings is truly evident, for the psalm, the second reading and the Gospel lead us into a sheepfold. The psalm compares God’s relationship with Israel to a shepherd’s care for his flock: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures”; in the second reading, Saint Peter speaks of people like lost, wandering sheep, invited to return “to your shepherd, the guardian of your souls”. Here, in the Gospel, we read a passage from the long discourse on the Good Shepherd and a sheepfold. To understand it, we must make the effort to imagine the landscape of the Near East, where the flock is gathered for the night in a well-guarded enclosure and in the morning the shepherd comes to release the sheep to lead them to pasture: a scene very familiar to Jesus’ listeners at the time, firstly because there were many flocks in Israel, and secondly because the Old Testament prophets had taken to comparing God’s relationship with his people to that of a shepherd caring for his flock. In the responsorial psalm we have just heard some passages on this subject, and I would add a reference to the prophet Isaiah, who emphasises God’s care for his people: full of compassion, he ‘will lead them to springs of water’ (49:9–10). Furthermore, it was said of the future Messiah that he would be a shepherd for Israel, but at the same time the prophets never ceased to warn against false shepherds, a real danger to the sheep, and a matter of life and death for the flock. Jesus, in turn, takes up precisely this same theme, highlighting the shepherd’s care for his sheep and the danger of false shepherds—a subject he revisits in this Sunday’s Gospel in the form of two brief, successive parables: that of the shepherd, followed by that of the gate. It is interesting that he takes care to introduce both with the solemn formula ‘Truly, truly, I say to you’, an expression that always introduces something new. But if the theme of the shepherd was well known, where is the novelty? On the other hand, John specifies that these two parables are addressed to the Pharisees: Jesus tells the first, but, as he notes, they did not understand what Jesus meant to say to them, so Jesus continues with the second. The Pharisees did not understand the first, or did not want to understand it, perhaps simply because, quite clearly, Jesus suggests that he himself is this good shepherd capable of bringing happiness to his people, and they suddenly find themselves demoted to the rank of bad shepherds. Is it not that they understood perfectly well what Jesus meant, but could not accept it because that would be to admit that this Galilean is the Messiah, the One sent by God? Jesus bears no resemblance whatsoever to the image they had of him, and this is perhaps why Jesus took care to say, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you’. When he begins a discourse with this opening, one must pay particular attention, for it is equivalent to idiomatic expressions frequently found in the prophets of the Old Testament. Indeed, when the Spirit of God breathes into them words that are hard to understand or accept, the prophets always take care to begin—and sometimes end—their preaching with phrases such as ‘the word of the Lord’ or ‘thus says the Lord’. Although they knew this and were therefore aware that Jesus was speaking of matters of great importance, the Pharisees did not understand or did not wish to understand; nevertheless, Jesus persists, and John helps us to understand this deliberate insistence by noting that “then Jesus said again”. Here we see all of Jesus’ patience, as he tries in every way to convince his listeners: “Truly, truly, I say to you: I am the gate for the sheep” and whoever enters through me will be saved. Different ways to help them understand that he is the Messiah, the Saviour, and that only through him does the flock gain access to true life, life in abundance. We can draw one final lesson from this Gospel: Jesus says that the sheep follow the shepherd because they know his voice, and behind this image, we can discern a reality of the life of faith: our contemporaries will not follow Christ, will not be his disciples, if we do not make the voice of Christ resound, if we do not make the Word of God known. Is this not, once again, Jesus’ heartfelt appeal to make the sound of his voice heard by every means possible? 

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Complete vs Perfect

(Jn 10:22-30)

In the so-called ‘Book of Signs’ of the Fourth Gospel (Jn.1-12), a progressive revelation of the divine Mystery that envelops the Person of Jesus takes place.

As such an unveiling becomes more precise, both adherence and misunderstanding grow around his figure, even of his neighbours - to the extent that He departs from traditional expectations of the Messiah as a glorious leader and executioner.

Thus, in our vocational experience we have often realized that full existence and paths of indestructible quality (vv.28-29) are not subject to immediately satisfying demands of the common mentality.

The Life of the Eternal (v.28) reveals itself as a goad: not to mortify intentions, but to set us on paths of growth.

The Gospel is not confirmation of tastes, of preferences and convictions.

And Jn 10:22-24 applies this criterion blatantly - in the blow by blow friction with the chiefs of conformist religiosity: contradicting the mentality of the experts.

Religious rule developed the idea that the Torah could cleanse the mind of errors, and the inclination of impurities - in order to chisel out a people pleasing to God.

In this way, the authorities felt no need to search for the Mystery of God.

The top of the class wanted Jesus to define himself so that they could judge him according to the fundamentalist criteria that permeated their teaching and common mentality.

The Master, on the other hand, did not place himself in established ideas, into a fixed framework; He was not stuck on a wavelength.

Christ is a fraternal presence for us, not a “ratifier”.

Jesus, the authentic guide, was a «friend of publicans and sinners» in the sense that he taught to broaden the harmony of creaturely being.

The new Rabbi did not want to sterilize emotions or situations.

The inner world and anxieties were not to be silenced at all, but rather encountered and known.

To enter into the life of Faith and become liberators of others, one must be emancipated and tirelessly available, able to shake convictions - starting with oneself.

In short, for those who considered themselves already arrived and masters of the situation, the “new” one always had to present authorizations, credentials, permits - or he would not have the right to speak and act.

Instead, the Lord calls for confidence, unfiltered conversation, collaboration: a propitious climate that allows the Father to reveal himself.

And beyond words, which indeed can always be misunderstood, it is the works of life alone that are eloquent language (v.25).

But it is the soul that does not want to believe: a feeling of those who do not belong to Him (v.26).

The problem is the calibrated eye, or openness. Only the perception of the unsteady is free of affected ballast.

Being One (v.30) has motivated Christ, and still today guides the lesser family members to feel adequate, on an equal footing; He leads them to the Face to face.

Not to disciplinary obedience, but to prophetic likeness.

[Tuesday 4th wk. in Easter, April 28, 2026]

Complete vs Perfect ones

(Jn 10:22-30)

In the so-called Book of Signs of the Fourth Gospel (Jn.1-12) there is a progressive revelation of the divine Mystery that envelops the Person of Jesus.

As this unveiling becomes more precise, both adhesion and incomprehension grow around His figure, even of His neighbours - to the extent that He departs from the traditional expectations of the Messiah, the glorious leader and executioner.

Even in our vocational experience, we have often realised that full existence and paths of indestructible quality (vv.28-29) are not subject to demands immediately satisfying the common mentality.

The Life of the Eternal (v.28) is revealed as a goad: not to mortify intentions, but to set us on paths of growth.

The Gospel is not confirmation of likes, dislikes and convictions.

And Jn 10:22-24 applies this criterion in a blatant manner - in blow by blow friction with the leaders of conformist religiosity: contradicting the mentality of the experts.

The religious rule developed the idea that the Torah could cleanse the mind of errors, and the inclination of people of impurities - in order to chisel out a people pleasing to God.

Anything that disturbed the prescribed balance had to be immediately condemned and punished, as deleterious to fixed stability, mass cohesion, and its very efficiency.

The complete configuration of the indisputable religious proposal, and the magnificence of the official cult structures, guaranteed the eloquence and imperturbability of conditioning (on the misfits).

Doubts and insecurities were immediately branded as disturbing factors in the landscape of reassurance and the profile of normality - to be repressed from adolescence onwards.

The new Rabbi, on the other hand, did not want to sterilise emotions or situations.

The inner world and anxieties were not to be silenced at all, but to be encountered and known.

On the other hand, [as we do today] looking around he realised that it was precisely in observant people, the standard-bearers of ethics or manners, who repressed spontaneous impulses or, conversely, profound criteria, that narrowness and disorders increased.

Precisely those who faced the spiritual path... by increasing dirigisme, manners and control, became exaggeratedly snobbish, confrontational and secretly untrustworthy.

Burdened with suffocating norms, the naive people were reduced to unhappiness.

Everyone felt restlessness and parchedness - precisely because the obsession with sin poured out on the unwell, preventing them from integrating their desires.

In short, what had to be reduced and annihilated for reasons of social, civil, devout consonance, ended up penetrating souls in a more intimate manner, resurfacing here and there in a paradoxical manner, with duplicity and very serious relational imbalances.

Authentic Jesus the Guide was a 'friend of publicans and sinners' in the sense that He taught to expand the harmony of creaturely being.

He himself wanted to learn the art of looking without prejudice, and to treasure various experiences; of all that could emerge even from within.

The perfection he preached to others was in the imperfection of selflessness, in the irrationality of love, in the absurdity of pure gift-giving and tolerance, which gleaned pearls of experience from everywhere.

Indeed, according to the True Shepherd, it was important precisely to be troubled, rather than impassive.

All in order to know in time and make sense even of the signs that worry [even according to a pious, or à la page, and aligned mentality] - thus completing ourselves.

Learning to welcome, not to establish.

The authentic Master and Friend knows that ... Only what touches, involves, and upsets us personally will succeed in shifting our gaze, to grow. To activate exodus to fertile pastures, the land of freedom.

The Feast of the Dedication [Feast of Lights] was being celebrated, a commemoration of the purification of the Temple, consecration and dedication of a new altar [following the Hellenist desecration by Antiochus IV Epiphanes, who had forced his hand by imposing the cult to Olympian Zeus in that place].

The debate with the institutional masters takes place as usual in Solomon's Portico - each time trying to educate them to let go of their sense of inquisition and domination, still unbearable today.

The authorities felt no need to seek the Mystery of God.

In this way, the leaders wanted Jesus to define himself, so that they could judge him according to the criteria of their abstract world; which impregnated their teaching and common mentality.

On the contrary, the Master even for us today does not place himself in the armour of established ideas, in a pre-established, contrived, external framework.

He does not stagnate, stuck on a wavelength; as if he were fearful of the unknown - hence for us the bearer of a non-alarming devotion.

Christ is a fraternal presence, certainly - not a 'ratifier'.To enter the life of Faith and become liberators of others, one must be emancipated and tirelessly available, able to shake up convictions - starting with oneself.

In short, for those who consider themselves arrived and masters of the situation, the new must present the imprint of authorisations, credentials, permissions - or one has no right to speak and act.

Instead, the Lord calls for confidence, for conversation, for collaboration: a propitious climate that allows the Father to reveal himself.

He only rejects fanaticism, sophisticated, cerebral, mannered, and one-sided thinking.

In short, Jesus did not want to be mistaken for 'the' [that] expected political Messiah: resembling David. That is why it requires the so-called messianic secret.

And beyond words, which indeed can always be misunderstood, it is the works of life alone that are eloquent language (v.25).

But it is the soul that did not want to believe: the feeling of those who do not belong to him (v.26).

In fact, sincere Faith is activated from a first testimony within, in the being, in one's own character and creaturely imprint (Jn 6:44).

(Vv.25-26) If you do not lead people to think differently, giving evidence is of no use. The problem is the shaky eye, or openness. And it is only the perception of the unhealthy that is free of interested ballast.

The mutual understanding between Jesus and the least of the people is complete transparency, total harmony even on the basis of an elementary sympathy: the natural Way that unites Father and sons.

All this, starting from a sure testimony in oneself, not from a preconceived religious rationalism.

Being One (v.30) motivated Christ, and still leads the voiceless to feel adequate, equal.

It leads them to face-to-face, without the need for models, rigmarole, legalisms, affected manners.

Not disciplinary obedience, but prophetic likeness.

It annoys us to be compared to a flock, but in ancient Israel the archetype of the shepherd who shares everything with his sheep remained even in Jesus' time a prototype of existence and life of communion with God.

The metaphor must be understood in the sense of the family relationship, of total sharing: feeling the burden and the goals together; grasping the spirit of each one and seeing the qualities, or providing for them; trusting even in destitution.

In the life of Faith, the guiding specialists should introduce us into this special relationship with the Father who knows each of his kinsmen, and redeems their loneliness or vice versa.

Immediacy and personal freedom in love are the cornerstone of the new relationship with the Most High.

A frankness that Jesus teaches without looking anyone in the face who is still enraptured by worldly elements - let alone being intimidated by marauders (vv.1.5.8.10.12-13) in angelic garb.

His Word and extreme events are still the Gates that lead [radically] to Heaven and humanity.

All this despite the fact that his Message is considered crazy and demonic by those interested in the status quo (vv.20-21).

Conversely, by crossing all the expected thresholds, in our imbalances we penetrate the furrows of reality and mystery; we introduce ourselves there where royal decisions ripen - finding surpassing fascination.

Perfect correspondence with our vocational trait and yearning for the fullness of life.

Knowledge of the heart

Jesus speaks of himself as the Good Shepherd who gives eternal life to his sheep (cf. Jn 10:28). That of the shepherd is an image well rooted in the Old Testament and dear to the Christian tradition. The title "Shepherd of Israel" is attributed by the Prophets to the future descendant of David, and thus possesses undoubted messianic significance (cf. Ez 34:23). Jesus is the true Shepherd of Israel, in that he is the Son of Man who wanted to share the condition of human beings in order to give them new life and lead them to salvation. Significantly to the term "shepherd" the evangelist adds the adjective kalós, beautiful, which he uses solely in reference to Jesus and his mission. Also in the story of the wedding feast of Cana, the adjective kalós is used twice to connote the wine offered by Jesus and it is easy to see in it the symbol of the good wine of the messianic times (cf. Jn 2:10).

"I give them (my sheep) eternal life, and they shall never be lost" (Jn 10:28). So says Jesus, who shortly before had said: "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (cf. Jn 10:11). John uses the verb tithénai - to offer, which he repeats in the following verses (15.17.18); we find the same verb in the account of the Last Supper, when Jesus "laid down" his garments and then "took them up again" (cf. Jn 13:4.12). It is clear that he wants to affirm in this way that the Redeemer disposes of his life with absolute freedom, so that he can offer it and then take it back freely. Christ is the true Good Shepherd who gave his life for his sheep, for us, by sacrificing himself on the Cross. He knows His sheep and His sheep know Him, just as the Father knows Him and He knows the Father (cf. Jn 10:14-15). It is not a matter of mere intellectual knowledge, but of a deep personal relationship; a knowledge of the heart, proper to the one who loves and the one who is loved; of the one who is faithful and the one who knows that he can be trusted in turn; a knowledge of love by virtue of which the Shepherd invites his own to follow him, and which is fully manifested in the gift he gives them of eternal life (cf. Jn 10:27-28).

[Pope Benedict, homily for priestly ordination 29 April 2007]

The Gospel [...] is only a part of Jesus' great discourse on shepherds. In this passage, the Lord tells us three things about the true shepherd:  he gives his own life for his sheep; he knows them and they know him; he is at the service of unity.

Before reflecting on these three characteristics essential to shepherds, it might be useful to recall briefly the previous part of the discourse on shepherds in which Jesus, before designating himself as the Shepherd, says, to our surprise:  "I am the door" (Jn 10: 7).

It is through him that one must enter the service of shepherd. Jesus highlights very clearly this basic condition by saying:  "he who... climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber" (Jn 10: 1). This word "climbs" - anabainei in Greek - conjures up the image of someone climbing over a fence to get somewhere out of bounds to him.

"To climb" - here too we can also see the image of careerism, the attempt to "get ahead", to gain a position through the Church:  to make use of and not to serve. It is the image of a man who wants to make himself important, to become a person of note through the priesthood; the image of someone who has as his aim his own exaltation and not the humble service of Jesus Christ.

But the only legitimate ascent towards the shepherd's ministry is the Cross. This is the true way to rise; this is the true door. It is not the desire to become "someone" for oneself, but rather to exist for others, for Christ, and thus through him and with him to be there for the people he seeks, whom he wants to lead on the path of life.

One enters the priesthood through the Sacrament, and this means precisely:  through the gift of oneself to Christ, so that he can make use of me; so that I may serve him and follow his call, even if it proves contrary to my desire for self-fulfilment and esteem.

Entering by the door which is Christ means knowing and loving him more and more, so that our will may be united with his will, our action become one with his action.

Dear friends, let us pray ever anew for this intention, let us strive precisely for this:  in other words, for Christ to grow within us and for our union with him to become ever deeper, so that through us it is Christ himself who tends the flock.

Let us now take a closer look at the three fundamental affirmations of Jesus on the good shepherd. The first one, which very forcefully pervades the whole discourse on shepherds, says:  the shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The mystery of the Cross is at the centre of Jesus' service as a shepherd:  it is the great service that he renders to all of us.

He gives himself and not only in a distant past. In the Holy Eucharist he does so every day, he gives himself through our hands, he gives himself to us. For this good reason the Holy Eucharist, in which the sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross remains continually present, truly present among us, is rightly at the centre of priestly life.

And with this as our starting point, we also learn what celebrating the Eucharist properly means:  it is an encounter with the Lord, who strips himself of his divine glory for our sake, allows himself be humiliated to the point of death on the Cross and thus gives himself to each one of us.

The daily Eucharist is very important for the priest. In it he exposes himself ever anew to this mystery; ever anew he puts himself in God's hands, experiencing at the same time the joy of knowing that He is present, receives me, ever anew raises and supports me, gives me his hand, himself. The Eucharist must become for us a school of life in which we learn to give our lives.
Free for God

Life is not only given at the moment of death and not only in the manner of martyrdom. We must give it day by day. Day after day it is necessary to learn that I do not possess my life for myself. Day by day I must learn to abandon myself; to keep myself available for whatever he, the Lord, needs of me at a given moment, even if other things seem more appealing and more important to me:  it means giving life, not taking it.

It is in this very way that we experience freedom:  freedom from ourselves, the vastness of being. In this very way, by being useful, in being a person whom the world needs, our life becomes important and beautiful. Only those who give up their own life find it.

Secondly the Lord tells us:  "I know my own [sheep] and my own [sheep] know me, as the Father knows me and I know the Father" (Jn 10: 14-15).

Here, two apparently quite different relationships are interwoven in this phrase:  the relationship between Jesus and the Father and the relationship between Jesus and the people entrusted to him. Yet both these relationships go together, for in the end people belong to the Father and are in search of the Creator, of God.

When they realize that someone is speaking only in his own name and drawing from himself alone, they guess that he is too small and cannot be what they are seeking; but wherever another's voice re-echoes in a person, the voice of the Creator, of the Father, the door opens to the relationship for which the person is longing.

Consequently, this is how it must be in our case. First of all, in our hearts we must live the relationship with Christ and, through him, with the Father; only then can we truly understand people, only in the light of God can the depths of man be understood. Then those who are listening to us realize that we are not speaking of ourselves or of some thing, but of the true Shepherd.

Obviously, Jesus' words also contain the entire practical pastoral task, caring for men and women, going to seek them out, being open to their needs and questions.

Obviously, practical, concrete knowledge of the people entrusted to me is fundamental, and obviously, it is important to understand this way of "knowing" others in the biblical sense:  there is no true knowledge without love, without an inner relationship and deep acceptance of the other.
The shepherd cannot be satisfied with knowing names and dates. His way of knowing his sheep must always also be knowing with the heart.

However, it is only possible to do this properly if the Lord has opened our hearts; if our knowing does not bind people to our own small, private self, to our own small heart, but rather makes them aware of the Heart of Jesus, the Heart of the Lord. It must be knowing with the Heart of Jesus, oriented to him, a way of knowing that does not bind the person to me but guides him or her to Jesus, thereby making one free and open. And in this way we too will become close to men and women.

Let us always pray to the Lord anew that we may be granted this way of knowing with the Heart of Jesus, of not binding to me but of binding to the Heart of Jesus and thereby creating a true community.

Lastly, the Lord speaks to us of the service of unity that is entrusted to the shepherd:  "I have other sheep that are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will heed my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd" (Jn 10: 16).

John repeated the same thing after the Sanhedrin had decided to kill Jesus, when Caiaphas said that it would be better for the people that one man die for them rather than the entire nation perish. John recognized these words of Caiaphas as prophetic, adding:  "Jesus should die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad" (11: 52).

The relationship between the Cross and unity is revealed:  the Cross is the price of unity. Above all, however, it is the universal horizon of Jesus' action that emerges.

If, in his prophecy about the shepherd, Ezekiel was aiming to restore unity among the dispersed tribes of Israel (cf. Ez 34: 22-24), here it is a question not only of the unification of a dispersed Israel but of the unification of all the children of God, of humanity - of the Church of Jews and of pagans.

Jesus' mission concerns all humanity. Therefore, the Church is given responsibility for all humanity, so that it may recognize God, the God who for all of us was made man in Jesus Christ, suffered, died and was raised.

The Church must never be satisfied with the ranks of those whom she has reached at a certain point or say that others are fine as they are:  Muslims, Hindus and so forth. The Church can never retreat comfortably to within the limits of her own environment. She is charged with universal solicitude; she must be concerned with and for one and all.

We generally have to "translate" this great task in our respective missions. Obviously, a priest, a pastor of souls, must first and foremost be concerned with those who believe and live with the Church, who seek in her their way of life and on their part, like living stones, build the Church, hence, also build and support the priest.

However, we must also - as the Lord says - go out ever anew "to the highways and hedges" (Lk 14: 23), to deliver God's invitation to his banquet also to those who have so far heard nothing or have not been stirred within.

This universal service has many forms. One of them is also the commitment to the inner unity of the Church, so that over and above differences and limitations she may be a sign of God's presence in the world, which alone can create this unity.

Among the sculptures of her time, the ancient Church discovered the figure of a shepherd carrying a sheep across his shoulders. Such images may perhaps be part of the idyllic dream of rural life that fascinated the society of that epoch.

For Christians, however, this figure with all its naturalness became the image of the One who set out to seek his lost sheep:  humanity; the image of the One who follows us even into our deserts and confusion; the image of the One who took upon his shoulders the lost sheep, which is humanity, and carried it home.

It has become the image of the true Shepherd, Jesus Christ. Let us entrust ourselves to him. We entrust you to him, dear brothers, especially at this moment, so that he may lead you and carry you all the days of your life; so that he may help you to become, through him and with him, good shepherds of his flock. Amen!

[Pope Benedict, presbyteral ordination homily 7 May 2006]

2. It may not always be conscious and clear, but in the human heart there is a deep nostalgia for God. St. Ignatius of Antioch expressed this eloquently: “There is in me a living water that murmurs within me: 'Come to the Father'” (Ad Rom.7). “Lord, show me your glory”, Moses begged on the mountain (Ex 33:18) [...].

Bringing us the direct witness of the life of the Son of God, John’s Gospel points out the road to follow in order to know the Father. Calling upon the “Father” is the secret, the breath, the life of Jesus. Is he not the only Son, the first-born, the loved one towards whom everything is directed, present to the Father even before the world existed, sharing in his same glory? (cf. Jn 17:5). From the Father Jesus receives power over all things (cf. Jn 17:2), the message to be proclaimed (cf. Jn 12:49), the work to be accomplished (cf. Jn 14:31). The disciples themselves do not belong to him: it is the Father who has given them to him (cf. Jn 17:9), entrusting him with the task of keeping them from evil, so that none should be lost (cf. Jn 18:9).

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 14th WYD]

Today’s passage records these words of Jesus: “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me; and I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. I and the Father are one” (10:27-30). These four verses contain the whole of Jesus’ message; it is the nucleus of his Gospel: he calls us to share in his relationship with the Father, and this is eternal life.

Jesus wants to establish with his friends a relationship which mirrors his own relationship with the Father: a relationship of reciprocal belonging in full trust, in intimate communion. To express this profound understanding, this relationship of friendship, Jesus uses the image of the shepherd with his sheep: he calls them and they recognize his voice, they respond to his call and follow him. This parable is very beautiful! The mystery of his voice is evocative: only think that from our mother’s womb we learn to recognize her voice and that of our father; it is from the tone of a voice that we perceive love or contempt, affection or coldness. Jesus’ voice is unique! If we learn to distinguish it, he guides us on the path of life, a path that goes beyond even the abyss of death.

However Jesus, at a certain point, said: “my Father, who has given them to me...” (Jn 10:29), referring to his sheep. This is very important, it is a profound mystery, far from easy to understand. If I feel drawn to Jesus, if his voice warms my heart, it is thanks to God the Father who has sown within me the desire for love, for truth, for life, for beauty... and Jesus is all this in fullness! This helps us understand the mystery of vocation and especially of the call to a special consecration. Sometimes Jesus calls us, he invites us to follow him, but perhaps we do not realize that it is he who is calling, like what happened to the young Samuel. There are many young people today, here in the Square. There are large numbers of you aren’t there? It’s clear.... Look! Here in the Square today there are so many of you! I would like to ask you: have you sometimes heard the Lord’s voice, in a desire, in a worry, did he invite you to follow him more closely? Have you heard him? I can’t hear you? There! Have you wanted to be apostles of Jesus? We must bet on youth for the great ideals. Do you think this? Do you agree? Ask Jesus what he wants of you and be brave! Be brave! Ask him this!

Behind and before every vocation to the priesthood or to the consecrated life there is always the strong and intense prayer of someone: a grandmother, a grandfather, a mother, a father, a community.... This is why Jesus said: “Pray therefore the Lord of the harvest”, that is, God the Father, “to send out labourers into his harvest” (Mt 9:38). Vocations are born in prayer and from prayer; and only through prayer can they persevere and bear fruit.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli 21 April 2013]