Comparisons no, Exceptionality yes

(Jn 21:20-25)

Once again in the fourth Gospel, the [uncertain] Petrine step and character are contrasted with that of the disciple loved by the Lord.

But the fullness of God shines through the whole Church, if genuine. Vocations are different. None in itself is sufficient.

Each one feels the Appeal to pursue their Call by Name in a direct, confidential, personal manner, and step by step, without stalling in confrontation.

No one is a superior model, or vice versa destined to be a facsimile: love erupts in a personal, always free, unprecedented way.

The opinion, affair or curiosity of others is a poison, both for realisation and for the missionary dimension.

Beware, therefore, of hearsay, conjecture, and image, even spread throughout the territory.

Especially in monopoly situations, they would lead to standardization, to “average life”, to collapse.

Beware of comparisons:

«Follow Me» [not others] (v.22) means to adhere to a Heaven that dwells in each son - and in Communion, not in a herd.

To each unique energy, history, and sensitivity, corresponds a reserved, unrepeatable way of being a disciple.

Differences and ties are recomposed in the Spirit, which knows where to go - calling each singular personality to dimensions of collected or extrovert existence - in its own Root.

He who is driven more to action [or reflection] must not linger, nor turn back; rather, immerse himself.

Each one is in the right place. He must not stray from the unique path.

In short, genuine love does not have a generic foundation, but rather an unpredictable, singular, unusual one; relevant though “incorrect”.

We must not be distracted from our natural and spiritual, innate purpose.

The mystery surrounding Christ unfolded in his People is inexhaustible, and we too are called in the first person to fearlessly ‘write’ a characteristic Gospel (v.25) [cf. Jn 20:29-30].

The difference between ancient religiosity and life of Faith? We are not photocopies of persistent conduct, but inventors and outriders.

Christ wants to be reinterpreted in the first person and in the conviviality of differences.

To each one the Master recognises his own way of acting. Consensus has nothing to do with the Vocation.

Instead, we often sit in external armour, and perhaps even measure the life project, the sign of the times, the gift, the stimulus, the Secret of the Brethren, with the same short-sightedness of commensurate programmes.

God reserves the right to point it out to each one. Beyond any 'map' and organisation chart.

Then, even “stability” is partial, awaiting fulfilment.

Whoever bets on the Way of Faith knows that they must depart from the spirit of unilaterality.

The same vigour of the path calls for a quiet pause and convergence.

Even “staying” finally throws its own balanced energy at initiatives... so on.

The ways of following Christ that resonate deep in the heart are as varied as the people, the events, the rhythms commensurate with the soul, the ages.

They embrace the same Proposal - without losing the enduring Mystery or any bond, in such many-sidedness.

Only here... real World, Person, Nature and Eternity team up.

[Saturday 7th wk. in Easter, May 23, 2026]

Comparisons no, Exceptionality yes

(Jn 21:20-25)

Once again in the Fourth Gospel, the Petrine step and character (uncertain) are confronted with that of the disciple loved by the Lord.

In him too we are called to a loose and liberal personality [more typical of the Johannine communities of Asia Minor] that reflects a less rigid and prophetically superior spirit than the official apostolic church - still Judaizing.

The early Christians looked forward to the so-called Second Coming of the Lord.

Some churches, faced with the death of followers, began to imagine that at least some of them would survive until the Parousia of Christ.

With the passage of time and the death of not only the apostles, but also the second and third generation disciples, disagreements arose over the precedence and interpretation of the Scriptures.

All this, despite John's insistence on the ever-present Presence of the Risen One, and the historicity of the Life of the Eternal [so-called 'eternal life'].

In addition to this, the Fourth Gospel reaffirms the relevance of the ultimate realities and the Judgment.

Conversely, the idea of their futurity remained widespread.

But the death of the evangelist himself shook the communities to no small degree, disconcerting many believers who imagined that disciple should - at least he - be present at the so-called 'Return' [a term that in the Gospels - in the original language - does not exist].

This is the reason for the addition of a "second conclusion" to Joh 20:30-31.

This is what we designate 'Chapter 21' - a work of the Johannine school, which attempts to clarify the Lord's Nearness, the meaning of the 'Manifestations' of the Risen One, the service of authority, the testimony of the 'beloved disciple'.

The fullness of God shines through the entire Church, if genuine. Vocations are different. None in itself is sufficient.

Each one hears the Call to carry out his own Call by Name according to a direct, confidential, personal character, and step by step, without getting bogged down in comparisons.

The opinion, the affair or curiosity of others, is a poison, both for realisation and for the missionary dimension.

Beware, therefore, of hearsay, conjecture, and image, even spread across the land.

Above all in situations of cultural, spiritual, or simply denominational monopoly [as still in Italy] such normalised convictions would lead to homologation, to 'average life', to collapse.

Beware of comparisons:

"Me, follow" (v.22 Greek text) means to adhere to a Heaven that inhabits each child - and in Communion, not in a herd.

To each energy, story, and exclusive sensitivity, corresponds a reserved, unrepeatable way of being a disciple.

No one is a superior model, or vice versa destined to be a facsimile: love erupts in a personal, always free, unprecedented way.

The path of following pointed out, remaining or remaining undetermined, are correlative and malleable characteristics or polarities: it is from them that unexpected answers to true questions arise, and the Newness of God.

Differences and bonds are recomposed in the Spirit, who knows where to go - calling each singular personality to dimensions of collected or extroverted existence - into its own Root.

Those who are driven more to action [or reflection] must not linger, nor turn back; rather, immerse themselves.

Each one is in the right place. It must not lose its unique way.

In my garden I have some big pines that provide shade, but one of them suddenly withered irreparably. It seemed like who knows what; in an instant it fell. Not to be believed. It also happens in religious life.

Among my field grass, I notice several small plants blooming - without ever having tended them - which drive away insects, offering the ground a variegated texture and a delicate colour spectacle.

If I forced the undergrowth to grow up to give shade, it would get sick. The whole thing wouldn't even become a bramble; rather, an unnatural interweaving of discomforts (imposed of my own accord) that would never fade.

Each seed corresponds to its own development and uniqueness, also in relation to the different situation around it - in the light or not.

In short, authentic love does not have a generic foundation, but rather an unpredictable, singular, unusual one; of relevance, however 'incorrect'.

It is said that St Anthony Abbot pondered the Last Judgement [who is saved and who is not?] The answer came to him peremptorily: "Antonio, look after yourself!" - To say that interest in the inclinations and preferences of others is ambiguous. Not always good; sometimes useless. Often fatal and deadly.

If someone is offered as a gift a special vocation of charity - even of blood - to others a different kind of unrepeatable witness is reserved; e.g. sapiential or critical martyrdom [of the opposed and pioneers].Rather than losing the pondus and character of one's Calling by Name, allowing oneself to be overwhelmed by the overbearing forces in the field - even in ecclesial life it is spontaneous to proclaim another kingdom than that of the single thought, of consensus, of the clever men of the quarter. 

They have nothing to do with the Vocation.

We must not be distracted from our natural and innate spiritual purpose.

The mystery surrounding Christ unfolded in his People is inexhaustible. And we too are called in the first person to fearlessly write a characteristic Gospel (v.25) [cf. Jn 20:29-30].

The difference between ancient religiosity and the life of faith? We are not photocopies of persistent conduct, but inventors and outriders.

Christ wants to be reinterpreted in the first person and in the conviviality of differences.

To each one the Master acknowledges his action.

Instead, we often sit in external armour, and perhaps even measure the life project, the sign of the times, the gift, the stimulus, the Secret of the brethren, with the same short-sightedness of commensurate programmes.

God reserves the right to point it out to each one. Beyond any 'map' and organisation chart.

Then, even the 'stabilities' are partial, they await fulfilment.

He who bets on the Way of Faith knows that he must depart from the spirit of one-sidedness.

The same vigour of the journey calls for quiet pause and convergence. 

Even 'remaining' finally throws its own quiet energy at initiatives... and so on.

The ways of following that resonate deep in the heart are as varied as the people, the events, the rhythms commensurate with the soul, the ages.

They embrace the same Proposal - without losing the enduring Mystery or any connection in such multifacetedness.

Only here, Real World, Person, Nature and Eternity come together.

"When the weaver raises one foot, the other lowers. When the movement ceases and one of the feet stops, the fabric is no longer made. His hands throw the spool that passes from one to the other; but no hand can hope to hold it. Like the weaver's gestures, it is the union of opposites that weaves our life' (Peul African Oral Tradition).

"We are absolutely lost if we lack this particular individuality, the only thing we can truly call our own - and whose loss is also a loss for the whole world. It is also precious because it is not universal' (Rabindranath Tagore).

"Truth is not at all what I have. It is not what you have at all. It is what unites us in suffering, in joy. It is the child of our Union, in pain and pleasure born. Neither I nor You. And I and You. Our common work, permanent amazement. Its name is Wisdom' (Irénée Guilane Dioh).

"The loss of all certainty and shelter is both a kind of trial and a kind of healing" (Pema Chödrön).

"When we suffer a serious disappointment, we never know if it is the conclusion of the story we are living: it could also be the beginning of a great adventure" (Pema Chödrön).

"To grow means to go beyond what you are today. Do not imitate. Do not pretend to have achieved the goal and do not try to rush things. Seek only to grow' (Svami Prajnanapada).

"True morality consists not in following the beaten path, but in finding the true path for us and following it without fear" (Gandhi).

"Truth resides in every human heart, and here one must seek it; one must be guided by the truth as one sees it. But no one has the right to force others to act according to their own view of the truth' (Gandhi).

"You must stand up to the whole world even at the cost of being alone. You must look the world in the eye, even though it may happen that the world looks at you with bloodshot eyes. Fear not. Believe in that little thing within you that resides in your heart and says: abandon friends, wife, everything; but bear witness to that for which you have lived and for which you must die" (Gandhi).

"In Benin, if you see a jar of water lying under a tree in front of a house, know that it is for you, a stranger passing through; there is no need to knock on the door to ask for a drink, you just open the jar, take the gourd, drink the water and go on your way if no one is there" (Raymond Johnson).

"We must learn to abandon our defences and our need to control, and trust totally in the guidance of the spirit" (Sobonfu Somé).

'Observing and listening are a great art. From observation and listening we learn infinitely more than from books. Books are necessary, but observation and listening sharpen your senses' (Krishnamurti).

"Fire is related to Dreaming, to maintaining our connection to ourselves and ancestors, and to the art of keeping our visions alive" (Griot of Central Africa).

"As in life, contraries coexist everywhere: in social organisation and affective life, in exchanges between individuals. To live and realise the contradiction, that is the essential" (Alassane Ndaw).

"The trial of crimes is instructed, but what does the jury think? Who are the jurors? Who is mankind's deputy attorney general?" (Djibril Tamsir Niane).

"Man must take responsibility for the ties, both visible and invisible, which together give meaning to life" (Aminata Traoré).

"Introducing the spirit of other people into our lives gives us more eyes to see and allows us to overcome our limitations" (Sobonfu Somé).

"In the forest, when the branches quarrel, the roots embrace" (African proverb).

For even in a relationship of deep love and coexistence 'there is a need to free oneself from the obligation to be equal' (Amoris Laetitia, no. 139).

"The waves each rise to their own height, almost competing incessantly with each other, but they only reach a given point; thus they lead our minds to the great calm of the sea, of which they too are a part and to which they must return with a rhythm of marvellous beauty" (Rabindranath Tagore).

To internalise and live the message:

What gospel do you feel you have to write with your life?

Uniqueness

11. "Each to his own way", says the Council. Therefore, it is not the case to be discouraged when contemplating models of holiness that appear unattainable. There are testimonies that are useful to stimulate and motivate us, but not because we try to copy them, as this could even lead us away from the unique and specific way that the Lord has in store for us. What matters is that each believer discerns his own way and brings out the best in himself, what is so personal God has placed in him (cf. 1 Cor 12:7), and not that he exhausts himself trying to imitate something that was not meant for him. We are all called to be witnesses, but there are many existential forms of witnessing. In fact, when the great mystic St John of the Cross wrote his Spiritual Canticle, he preferred to avoid fixed rules for everyone and explained that his verses were written so that each person could benefit "in his own way". For the divine life is communicated to some in one way and to others in another.

[Pope Francis, Gaudete et Exsultate]

Let us dedicate our meeting today to remembering another very important member of the Apostolic College: John, son of Zebedee and brother of James. His typically Jewish name means: "the Lord has worked grace". He was mending his nets on the shore of Lake Tiberias when Jesus called him and his brother (cf. Mt 4: 21; Mk 1: 19).

John was always among the small group that Jesus took with him on specific occasions. He was with Peter and James when Jesus entered Peter's house in Capernaum to cure his mother-in-law (cf. Mk 1: 29); with the other two, he followed the Teacher into the house of Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue whose daughter he was to bring back to life (cf. Mk 5: 37); he followed him when he climbed the mountain for his Transfiguration (cf. Mk 9: 2).

He was beside the Lord on the Mount of Olives when, before the impressive sight of the Temple of Jerusalem, he spoke of the end of the city and of the world (cf. Mk 13: 3); and, lastly, he was close to him in the Garden of Gethsemane when he withdrew to pray to the Father before the Passion (cf. Mk 14: 33).

Shortly before the Passover, when Jesus chose two disciples to send them to prepare the room for the Supper, it was to him and to Peter that he entrusted this task (cf. Lk 22: 8).

His prominent position in the group of the Twelve makes it somewhat easier to understand the initiative taken one day by his mother: she approached Jesus to ask him if her two sons - John and James - could sit next to him in the Kingdom, one on his right and one on his left (cf. Mt 20: 20-21).

As we know, Jesus answered by asking a question in turn: he asked whether they were prepared to drink the cup that he was about to drink (cf. Mt 20: 22). The intention behind those words was to open the two disciples' eyes, to introduce them to knowledge of the mystery of his person and to suggest their future calling to be his witnesses, even to the supreme trial of blood.

A little later, in fact, Jesus explained that he had not come to be served, but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many (cf. Mt 20: 28).

In the days after the Resurrection, we find "the sons of Zebedee" busy with Peter and some of the other disciples on a night when they caught nothing, but that was followed, after the intervention of the Risen One, by the miraculous catch: it was to be "the disciple Jesus loved" who first recognized "the Lord" and pointed him out to Peter (cf. Jn 21: 1-13).

In the Church of Jerusalem, John occupied an important position in supervising the first group of Christians. Indeed, Paul lists him among those whom he calls the "pillars" of that community (cf. Gal 2: 9). In fact, Luke in the Acts presents him together with Peter while they are going to pray in the temple (cf. Acts 3: 1-4, 11) or appear before the Sanhedrin to witness to their faith in Jesus Christ (cf. Acts 4: 13, 19).

Together with Peter, he is sent to the Church of Jerusalem to strengthen the people in Samaria who had accepted the Gospel, praying for them that they might receive the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 8: 14-15). In particular, we should remember what he affirmed with Peter to the Sanhedrin members who were accusing them: "We cannot but speak of what we have seen and heard" (Acts 4: 20).

It is precisely this frankness in confessing his faith that lives on as an example and a warning for all of us always to be ready to declare firmly our steadfast attachment to Christ, putting faith before any human calculation or concern.

According to tradition, John is the "disciple whom Jesus loved", who in the Fourth Gospel laid his head against the Teacher's breast at the Last Supper (cf. Jn 13: 23), stood at the foot of the Cross together with the Mother of Jesus (cf. Jn 19: 25) and lastly, witnessed both the empty tomb and the presence of the Risen One himself (cf. Jn 20: 2; 21: 7).

We know that this identification is disputed by scholars today, some of whom view him merely as the prototype of a disciple of Jesus. Leaving the exegetes to settle the matter, let us be content here with learning an important lesson for our lives: the Lord wishes to make each one of us a disciple who lives in personal friendship with him.

To achieve this, it is not enough to follow him and to listen to him outwardly: it is also necessary to live with him and like him. This is only possible in the context of a relationship of deep familiarity, imbued with the warmth of total trust. This is what happens between friends; for this reason Jesus said one day: "Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.... No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you" (Jn 15: 13, 15).

In the apocryphal Acts of John, the Apostle is not presented as the founder of Churches nor as the guide of already established communities, but as a perpetual wayfarer, a communicator of the faith in the encounter with "souls capable of hoping and of being saved" (18: 10; 23: 8).

All is motivated by the paradoxical intention to make visible the invisible. And indeed, the Oriental Church calls him quite simply "the Theologian", that is, the one who can speak in accessible terms of the divine, revealing an arcane access to God through attachment to Jesus.

Devotion to the Apostle John spread from the city of Ephesus where, according to an ancient tradition, he worked for many years and died in the end at an extraordinarily advanced age, during the reign of the Emperor Trajan.

In Ephesus in the sixth century, the Emperor Justinian had a great basilica built in his honour, whose impressive ruins are still standing today. Precisely in the East, he enjoyed and still enjoys great veneration.

In Byzantine iconography he is often shown as very elderly - according to tradition, he died under the Emperor Trajan - in the process of intense contemplation, in the attitude, as it were, of those asking for silence.

Indeed, without sufficient recollection it is impossible to approach the supreme mystery of God and of his revelation. This explains why, years ago, Athenagoras, Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, the man whom Pope Paul VI embraced at a memorable encounter, said: "John is the origin of our loftiest spirituality. Like him, "the silent ones' experience that mysterious exchange of hearts, pray for John's presence, and their hearts are set on fire" (O. Clément, Dialoghi con Atenagora, Turin 1972, p. 159).

May the Lord help us to study at John's school and learn the great lesson of love, so as to feel we are loved by Christ "to the end" (Jn 13: 1), and spend our lives for him.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 5 July 2006]

1. "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I also send you... Receive the Holy Spirit"! (Jn 20, 21-22).

On this eve of Pentecost, the Church in Rome is gathered like the Apostles in the Upper Room, after the events of the Easter triduum. They knew that the Lord had risen and had appeared to Simon. But Jesus himself came among them and offered the greeting of peace. He then showed His pierced hands and side, with the visible signs of the passion. Yes! It is indeed Him. It is the same Jesus, first crucified and now resurrected. "The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord" ( Jn 20:20 ).

As early as the evening of Easter Day, however, Jesus anticipated the event of Pentecost: "As the Father has sent me, I also send you.... Receive the Holy Spirit".

2.

Dear Brothers and Sisters of the Diocese of Rome! Through a prayer vigil, reminiscent of the Easter vigil, we have gathered here to prepare ourselves for the solemnity of the descent of the Holy Spirit.

The reading from the Acts of the Apostles, which we have just heard, recalls what happened in Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost: the sudden rushing wind, the appearance of tongues of fire, the Apostles who, filled with the Holy Spirit, began to proclaim the Gospel in languages unknown to them.

People belonging to various nations, and using different languages, hear the Apostles, who were Galileans, speaking in their own languages (cf. Acts 1:11 ): "We hear them proclaiming in our tongues the great works of God" ( Acts 2:11 ).

It is the solemn beginning of the mission of the Apostles, a mission received fifty days earlier from the Risen One, who had ordered them: "I send you. Receive the Holy Spirit" ( Jn 20, 21 . 22 ).

3.

"Emitte Spiritum tuum et creabuntur": "send forth thy Spirit and they shall be created" (cf. Ps 103:30 ).

By saying: "Receive the Holy Spirit", Christ reveals the creative power of the Spirit of God that, poured out upon every man (cf. Gl 3:1 ), restores that unity of the human race that was broken, due to sin, at the tower of Babel.

Babel became the symbol of disintegration and dispersion (cf. Gen 11:1-9 ). Pentecost, on the other hand, constitutes the full fulfilment of the unity that, through the power of the Spirit of truth, is reconstructed precisely from the multiplicity of human existence and experience.

Christ is placed at the head of the people of the New Covenant: He is the awaited great Prophet. Around Him must gather "the sons and daughters" of the new Israel (cf. Lumen Gentium, n. 9), who, animated by the life-giving Spirit (cf. Ez 37:14), take part personally in the salvific mission of Christ, Priest, Prophet and King, following in His footsteps, throughout the centuries and millennia.

4.

The second Christian millennium is now drawing to a close.

Aware of the "Tertio Millennio adveniente", of the Third Millennium that is approaching, we are gathered in this particular Upper Room of the Church, constituted this evening at the tomb of St Peter. We are looked upon by the almost two millennia that have passed, uniquely witnessed by this place, marked by the tombs of Martyrs and Confessors of the faith. Here we are at the relics of the Apostles, pillars of the Church that is in Rome.

And what happened on Easter evening is being repeated in our midst now. Christ, through the Eucharist, transcends space and time and makes himself present among us, as he did then with the Apostles gathered in the Upper Room. He addresses the same words to us: "Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I also send you. Receive the Holy Spirit".

5.

Receive the Holy Spirit!

We are gathered to invoke together the gift of the Holy Spirit for the entire ecclesial community of Rome, called to fulfil a demanding mission. With this apostolic initiative, the Church that is in Rome intends to open its arms wide to every person and family in the City and to penetrate like yeast into every social sphere, work, suffering, art and culture, proclaiming and bearing witness to the Risen Lord to those near and far.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, living in this metropolis, which unfortunately does not escape the temptations of secularism, one is as if subtly threatened by fatigue, indifference, spiritual torpor and that relativism in which everything is watered down and confused. That is why the great city mission, which we solemnly inaugurate with this Vigil, is first and foremost addressed to believers. It is first and foremost an entreaty to the Holy Spirit to strengthen our faith, renew our fervour, enkindle our charity.

Let not our hearts be troubled by fears and perplexity. On the contrary, counting not on human strength but on the grace that comes from God, let us bring, as witnesses of the truth and love of Christ, the Gospel of hope to every inhabitant of Rome. In this way, we will also be able to influence the culture, the ways of life, the expectations and plans of the entire city community.

6.

Church that you are in Rome, the Lord has loved you with unconditional love. That is why you are rich in spiritual and missionary energies, and many more the Spirit, precisely through mission, will arouse in you.

I address myself first of all to you, dear brothers in the priesthood, consecrated to be the first witnesses of the Gospel and the apostles of truth and unity: be the first tireless workers of the mission, be holy in order to be docile instruments through which God works the sanctification of his people. It is from the parishes that this mission must start, and you of the parish communities are the responsible and qualified animators.

And you, dear men and women religious, called to be the prophetic sign of God's presence, give yourselves with enthusiasm, through prayer and apostolic activities, to this Church in mission. You will find in this very giving the taste of your vocation.

I think of you, dear brothers and sisters, who work patiently in parishes and form the solid fabric of daily pastoral activity, catechesis and the service of charity. Through mission you will be able to find renewed spiritual vigour to transmit the Gospel of Christ in your families and in the environments in which you work. You, dear members of the numerous movements, organisms and ecclesial associations, ensure full and faithful collaboration in the mission of the city, in close agreement with the Pastors, the parishes and the entire diocesan reality.

You, dear young people, put your fresh energies at the service of this great spiritual enterprise, overcoming any possible fear or human respect. Proclaim with boldness and courage your faith in Christ among your peers and friends. From you too, dear sick and suffering people, and from you who feel marginalised, the city's mission expects a contribution that is in a sense decisive for its success. By accepting your condition and offering it to the heavenly Father together with Christ, you can become a providential and mysterious way of salvation for Rome.

The mission belongs to you, dear members of the Roman Curia and my collaborators in the service of the universal Church, called to make your qualified contribution to the life of the Christian Community, which is in Rome, and to the preparation of the Great Jubilee of the Year Two Thousand. Your contribution will also be more important than ever for the success of this vast evangelising action.

The mission is also made for you, dear brothers and sisters who have come to Rome from the most diverse parts of the world. You are now an integral part of our diocesan community. Thank you for being here with us this evening to pray.

May the city mission, after the Diocesan Synod, mark a further step forward in the journey of spiritual growth and communion among all Christians living in our City.

7.

Our gaze, this evening, cannot fail to widen to the expectations of the universal Church, on its way towards the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000. The Church seeks to become more aware of the Spirit's presence in her, for the sake of her communion and mission, through sacramental, hierarchical and charismatic gifts.

One of the gifts of the Spirit to our time is certainly the blossoming of the ecclesial movements, which since the beginning of my Pontificate I have continued to point to as a reason for hope for the Church and for mankind. They "are a sign of the freedom of forms, in which the one Church is realised, and represent a sure novelty, which still awaits to be properly understood in all its positive efficacy for the Kingdom of God at work in the present day of history" (Insegnamenti, VII 2[1984], p. 696). Within the framework of the celebrations of the Great Jubilee, especially those of the year 1998, dedicated in a special way to the Holy Spirit and his sanctifying presence within the Community of Christ's disciples (cf. Tertio millennio adveniente, n. 44), I count on the common witness and collaboration of the movements. I trust that they, in communion with the Pastors and in connection with diocesan initiatives, will want to bring to the heart of the Church their spiritual, educational and missionary richness, as a precious experience and proposal of Christian life.

8.

"Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I also send you.... Receive the Holy Spirit".

Christ, also in the sign of the Gospel Book that this evening I entrust to the Cardinal Vicar so that it may be solemnly displayed in the Basilica of St John Lateran, is present and sustains the path of the great mission that will lead the Ecclesial Community of Rome to the threshold of the third millennium.

"I also send you... ".Lord, as you did at the beginning of the Church's mission, at the dawn of the first millennium, you send us today on a new evangelising mission.

You entrust us with the task of bringing the Good News to the streets and squares of this City; you want your Church to be a pilgrim of hope and peace in the ways of the world.

Sustain our journey with the strength of your Spirit; make us courageous apostles of the Gospel and builders of a new humanity.

Mary, Salus Populi Romani, who accompany with your venerable icon the pilgrimage of this night, guide our steps; obtain for us the fullness of the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

"Emitte Spiritum tuum et creabuntur". Amen!

[Pope John Paul II, Homily for the Inauguration of the City Mission, in preparation for the Great Jubilee, 25 May 1996]

This evening too — vigil of the final day of the Easter Season, the Feast of Pentecost — Jesus is in our midst and proclaims aloud: “If any one thirst, let him come to me and drink. He who believes in me, as the scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water’” (Jn 7:37-38).

It is the Holy Spirit’s “rivers of living water”, which flow from Jesus’ heart, from his side pierced by the sword (cf. Jn 19:37), and which cleanse and make fruitful the Church, the mystical bride represented by Mary, the new Eve, at the foot of the Cross.

The Holy Spirit flows from the merciful heart of the Risen Jesus, fills our heart with mercy, in “good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over” (cf. Lk 6:38), and transforms us into the Church-heart of mercy, that is, into an “open-hearted mother” for everyone! How I would like the people of Rome to recognize the Church, recognize us for this abundance of mercy — not for other things — for this abundance of humanity and of tenderness, of which there is so much need! One would feel at home, the ‘maternal home’ where one is always welcome and where one can always return. One would always feel welcome, listened to, clearly understood, helped to take a step forward in the direction of the Kingdom of God.... As a mother knows how to do, even with her grown children.

This thought of the motherhood of the Church reminds me that 75 years ago, on 11 June 1944, Pope Pius XII made a special act of thanksgiving and supplication to the Virgin, for her protection of the city of Rome. He did so in the Church of Saint Ignatius, where the venerated image of Our Lady of Divine Love had been taken. Divine Love is the Holy Spirit, which pours out of the Heart of Christ. He is the “spiritual rock” that accompanies the People of God in the desert, so that by drawing the living water they may quench their thirst along the way (cf. 1 Cor 10:4). In the burning bush that does not extinguish, the image of Mary, Virgin and Mother, there is the Risen Christ who speaks to us, conveys to us the fire of the Holy Spirit, dispatches us among the people to hear their cry, invites us to open the passage to paths of freedom that lead to God’s promised land.

We know this. Today too, as in all times, there are those who seek to build “a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens” (cf. Gen 11:4). They are human plans, even our plans, made in service to an ever greater ‘I’, toward a heaven where there is no more room for God. God lets us be for a little while, so that we may experience the extent of evil and sorrow that we are capable of reaching without him.... But the Spirit of Christ, Lord of history, cannot wait to cast everything off, to enable us to begin again! We are always a little ‘narrow’ of mind and of heart; left to ourselves we end up losing sight of the horizon; we end up convincing ourselves that we have understood everything, that we have taken all the variables into account, have foreseen what will happen and how it will happen.... They are all our constructs that give us the illusion of touching heaven. Instead the Spirit bursts into the world from on High, from the heart of God, where the Son was begotten, and makes all things new.

What are we celebrating today, all together, in Rome, this city of ours? We are celebrating the primacy of the Spirit, who silences us before the unpredictability of God’s plan, and then makes us jump for joy: ‘So this is what God had in his heart for us!’: this journey of the Church, this passage, this Exodus, this arrival in the promised land, the Jerusalem-city with its gates always open to everyone, where mankind’s various languages are arranged in the harmony of the Spirit, because the Spirit is harmony.

And if we have labour pains, we understand that our groan, that of the people who live in this city and the groan of the whole of creation are none other than the very groan of the Spirit: it is the birth of the new world. God is the Father and mother; God is the midwife; God is the groan; God is the begotten Son in the world and in us, the Church; we are at the service of this birth. Not at the service of ourselves, not at the service of our ambitions, of many dreams of power, no: at the service of God’s deeds, of these wonders that God works.

“If pride and presumed moral superiority do not dull our hearing, we will realize that beneath the cry of many people there is not but an authentic groan of the Holy Spirit. It is the Spirit who spurs us once again not to settle, to seek to set out on the journey anew; it is the Spirit who will save us from all diocesan ‘re-arrangement’” (Address to the Diocesan Conference, 9 May 2019). The danger is this desire to confuse the newness of the Spirit with a method of ‘re-arranging’ everything. No, this is not the Spirit of God. The Spirit of God disrupts everything and helps us begin not from scratch but from a new path.

Thus let us allow the Spirit to take us by the hand and lead us into the heart of the city in order to hear its cry, its groan. God tells Moses that this hidden cry of the People has reached him. He has heard it, has seen the oppression and suffering.... And he decided to intervene by sending Moses to evoke and nourish the Israelites’ dream of freedom and to reveal to them that this dream is his very will: to make of Israel a free People, his People, bound to him by a covenant of love, called to witness to the Lord’s faithfulness before all peoples.

But in order for Moses to fulfil his mission, God wants him instead to ‘descend’ with Him among the Israelites. Moses’ heart must become like God’s, attentive and sensitive to the suffering and dreams of mankind, to their hidden cry when they raise their hands toward heaven, because they no longer have a hold on the earth. It is the groan of the Spirit, and Moses must listen, not with his ears but with his heart. Today he asks us Christians to learn how to listen with our heart. And the Teacher of this listening is the Spirit. To open our heart so he may teach us how to listen with the heart. To open it.

In order to hear the cry of the city of Rome, we too need the Lord to take us by the hand and help us ‘descend’, to descend from our positions, to go down among the brothers and sisters who inhabit our city, in order to listen to their need of salvation, the cry that reaches him, and that we oftentimes do not hear. It is not a matter of explaining intellectual, ideological things. It makes me weep when I see a Church that thinks she is faithful to the Lord, that she is keeping abreast when she seeks purely functional paths, paths that do not come from the Spirit of God. This Church does not know how to descend, and if she does not descend it is not the Spirit who commands. It is a matter of opening eyes and ears, but especially the heart, to listen with the heart. Then we will truly set out on the journey. Then we will feel within us the fire of Pentecost, which spurs us to cry out to the men and women of this city that their slavery has ended, and that Christ is the way that leads to the city of Heaven. It takes faith for this, brothers and sisters. Today let us ask for the gift of faith in order to take this path.

[Pope Francis, homily at the Vigil of Pentecost 8 June 2019]

Ascension of the Lord (year A) and VII Easter Sunday [Thursday 14 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (1:1–11)

The opening verses serve as a bridge between the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of Luke, which is also dedicated to a certain Theophilus. One begins where the other ends, namely with the account of Jesus’ Ascension, even though the two accounts do not agree on everything. The Gospel recounts Jesus’ mission and preaching; the second is dedicated to the mission and preaching of the Apostles, hence the name “Acts of the Apostles”. The parallel can be taken further: the Gospel begins and ends in Jerusalem, the centre of the Jewish world and of the First Covenant; the Acts begin in Jerusalem, because the New Covenant is a continuation of the First, but they end in Rome, the crossroads of all the roads of the then-known world: the New Covenant now extends beyond the borders of Israel. For Luke, it is clear that this expansion is the work of the Holy Spirit. It is the very Spirit of Jesus and will be the inspiration of the Apostles from Pentecost onwards, so much so that the Acts are often called “the Gospel of the Spirit”. Just as Jesus had prepared for his mission with forty days in the desert after his Baptism, so too does he prepare the Church for forty days: “For forty days he appeared to them and spoke about the kingdom of God”. During a final meal, he gives his instructions: a command, a promise, a sending forth on mission. The command is almost surprising: to wait and not to move. “He instructed them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the Father’s promise.” That the Father’s promises would be fulfilled in Jerusalem certainly did not surprise the Eleven, all of whom were Jews, for the entire preaching of the prophets assigned Jerusalem a decisive role in the fulfilment of God’s plan. Luke specifies the content of the promise: “John baptised with water, but you will be baptised in the Holy Spirit in a few days’ time.” The apostles had in mind the prophecies of Joel: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all people” (Joel 3:1–2), and of Zechariah: “On that day there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity” (Zech 13:1)  and Ezekiel: “I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be cleansed… I will give you a new heart, and  I will put a new spirit within you… I will put my Spirit within you” (Ezek 36:25–27).

The apostles’ question “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” shows that they had clearly understood that the famous Day of the Lord had dawned. Jesus’ reply should not surprise us: God calls upon human cooperation to bring about his plan, and the salvation of God, which has come through Jesus Christ, calls upon people to enter into it. For this to happen, people must know of it, and from this arises the mission and responsibility of the Apostles. The Spirit is given to them for this purpose: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” This means that between the gift of the Spirit and the definitive coming of the Kingdom there is an interval which is the time of witness: an interval that is all the longer the more the message is to be brought to all humanity. “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” The Book of Acts follows this plan exactly. Just as on Easter morning “two men in dazzling robes” had torn the women away from their contemplation, saying, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen”, so on the day of the Ascension two men in white robes do the same with the Apostles: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing into the sky? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven”. He will return, we are certain of it, and that is why we say at every Eucharist: “As we await the fulfilment of our blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour Jesus Christ”. In the Bible, the cloud is the visible sign of God’s presence, as at the crossing of the Red Sea or at the Transfiguration. The cloud that hides Jesus from human sight is the sign that he has now entered God’s realm: his physical and visible presence thus ceases to inaugurate his spiritual presence. It is impossible to reconstruct exactly what happened between Jesus’ Resurrection, on Easter night, and the day he definitively left his apostles to return to the Father. In Luke’s accounts, in both the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, the two narratives are very similar: Jesus’ departure takes place near Jerusalem, for the Gospel speaks of Bethany and the Acts of the Mount of Olives; in both, Luke specifies that Jesus instructs the disciples not to leave Jerusalem before they have received the Holy Spirit. The only difference concerns the timing: in the Gospel, it seems that the departure takes place on Easter evening itself; after appearing to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, they return to Jerusalem to tell the Eleven everything; and it is whilst they are talking together that Jesus appears, stays with them, and explains the Scriptures; then he leads them to Bethany and there disappears from their sight for good. In Acts, however, Luke specifies that forty days elapsed between Easter and the Ascension; and this is why we celebrate the the Ascension forty days after Easter. In the other Gospels there is almost nothing on this: in Matthew there is no account of the Ascension, but only an appearance of Jesus to two women who had gone to the tomb and then to the disciples in Galilee, during which he utters the phrase with which his Gospel concludes: “ Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’ John gives a more detailed account of several appearances of the Risen One, one to Mary Magdalene and three to the disciples, the last by the Sea of Tiberias; but he does not recount the Ascension. As for Mark, he recounts the appearance to Mary Magdalene, then to two disciples who were going out into the countryside, and finally to the Eleven. Jesus sends them to preach the Gospel to the whole world, and Mark concludes by saying: “The Lord Jesus, after speaking to them, was taken up into heaven and sat at the right hand of God” . These differences between the Gospels prove that their details do not aim at historical or geographical reality: Matthew has his reasons for speaking of Galilee. Luke, on the other hand, has his own reasons for emphasising Jerusalem, because it was there that Jesus told them to wait for the gift of the Spirit, and Luke’s Gospel ends with Jesus’ final instruction: “And behold, I am sending upon you the one whom my Father has promised; but you must remain in the city until you are clothed with power from on high” (Lk 24:49).

Responsorial Psalm (46/47)

Here Israel sings and acclaims God as its king, and this is not surprising; but what is even more astonishing is that it says God is the king of the whole earth. Now, this was not always the view in Israel. Before the Babylonian Exile, none of the kings of Israel imagined that God was the Lord of the entire universe. This means that the psalm was composed late in the history of the chosen people. I shall focus on the first statement: God is the king of Israel. For a long period of biblical history, Israel had kings, like its neighbouring peoples, but its conception of kingship was unique, and this distinctiveness persisted throughout its history. In Israel, the king could never claim to be the highest authority in the land and did not hold absolute power, for God remained the sovereign. In other words, the true king in Israel was none other than God Himself. The king, for example, could not interpret the laws as he pleased and  had, like everyone else, to submit to the Law of God given to Moses on Mount Sinai. According to the Book of Deuteronomy, he was required to read the entire Law every day of his life. Even whilst sitting on the throne, he was, in principle, merely an executor of God’s commands conveyed by the prophets. In the Books of Kings, in fact, we often see one king or another seeking the consent of the prophet of the day before going into battle or even, in David’s case, before undertaking the construction of the Temple. And on several occasions we see the prophets intervening freely in the lives of the kings and sometimes violently criticising their behaviour. The affirmation of God’s sovereignty was even a hindrance to the establishment of the monarchy. One recalls the very violent reaction of the prophet Samuel, in the time of the Judges, when the leaders of the tribes of Israel came to tell him that they wanted a king ‘to be like the other nations’. To desire to be ‘like the other nations’ when one had the honour of being the people chosen by God for the covenant was, in his eyes, a true blasphemy. He eventually yielded to the insistence of the tribal leaders, but not without warning them that they were bringing ruin upon themselves. And when he anointed the first king, Saul, he took care to specify that he was becoming the head of God’s inheritance. The people remained God’s people and not the king’s, and the king was but a servant of God. And throughout the monarchy in Israel, the prophets took it upon themselves to remind the kings of this fundamental truth. To the extent that the Books of Kings, when recounting the successive reigns, have but one criterion of judgement: the faithfulness of each king to God’s will. One phrase recurs constantly: ‘Such-and-such a king did what was right in the eyes of the Lord’, or conversely, ‘Such-and-such a king did what was evil in the eyes of the Lord’. It is therefore in honour of God himself that our psalm deploys here the entire vocabulary otherwise reserved for the kings of the earth. The very word ‘awesome’ is a compliment; it is a common term in courtly language and is reassuring: the enemies are warned, our king will be invincible. In every line of this psalm, it is clear that we are speaking of the God of Sinai, the Lord, who is acclaimed as God and King of the entire universe. This universal dimension is very much present in the psalm, to the point of stating that “God reigns over the pagan nations”. Now, the discovery of monotheism dates only to the Babylonian Exile: until then, the people of Israel were not yet monotheists. To be monotheists means to affirm that there is only one God, the same for the entire cosmos and humanity. Before the Exile, this was not the case: it is said that Israel was ‘monolatristic’; that is, it recognised for itself a single God, the God of the Sinai Covenant. But it believed that other peoples had their own gods. This psalm was therefore probably composed after the return from the Exile, and it was not in the throne room that these acclamations resounded, but in the rebuilt Temple of Jerusalem. Even now, the Jews already imagine the Day when God will finally be recognised for what He is, the Father of all goodness. We Christians, in turn, take up this psalm. And the phrase “God ascends amidst the acclamations” is most fitting for the celebration of the Ascension of Jesus Christ. Even though Christ’s kingship has not yet been fully realised and the evangelists do not recount any coronation ceremony for Christ. All the more reason to pay Jesus this magnificent tribute now, which merely anticipates the last day when all the children of God, finally gathered together, will sing: “All you peoples, clap your hands! Acclaim God with shouts of joy” 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (1:17–23)

The Letter to the Ephesians is divided into two parts: in chapters 1–3 there is a lengthy contemplation of God’s plan, and in chapters 4–6 an exhortation to the baptised to conform their lives to this mystery. For the feast of the the Ascension, the liturgy offers a passage from the first part in Year A and from the second part in Year B. The first part begins with a lengthy blessing formula in the Jewish style, which in our Christian liturgy we might call a ‘preface’, and it concerns God’s ‘merciful plan’ (Eph 1:3–6). The baptised already share in this mysterious plan of God which, one day, will be extended to all humanity. And Paul speaks of the privilege of us Christians who, having heard the word of truth, that is, the Gospel, have received the seal of the Holy Spirit, a pledge of our inheritance, whilst we await full redemption.  We find all these terms in today’s reading, but in the form of a prayer, generally known as the ‘prayer for enlightenment’, since it takes the light of God to penetrate even a little into this mystery: “May he enlighten the eyes of your heart so that you may understand to what hope he has called you, what treasure of glory his inheritance among the saints holds…” And we know full well that the understanding of which he speaks is not a matter of reason but of the heart, a profound openness to being taught and enlightened. And Paul, as a Jew, knows full well that God’s wisdom is inaccessible to man unless God himself reveals himself to him: “May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation for a deeper knowledge of him.” And what lies at the end of this knowledge towards which we are journeying? An inheritance of inestimable value, says Paul. The word “inheritance” in verse 18, and indeed in verse 14, recurs frequently in the Bible: in the Old Testament it refers to the land promised by God to the faithful. The same term is taken up in the New Testament, particularly in Paul’s letters, to denote the Kingdom and eternal life. For example: “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God. And if we are children, we are also heirs: heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ’ (Rom 8:16–17). ‘Giving thanks with joy to the Father who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light’ (Col 1:12). ‘ All nations are called, in Christ Jesus, to share in the same inheritance, to form the same body and to be partakers of the same promise through the Gospel” (Eph 3:8). James also develops this theme: “Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world, who are rich in faith and heirs of the Kingdom, promised to those who love him?” (Jas 2:5) .  And the Letter to the Hebrews, for its part, often takes up the theme: “God, who in times past spoke to our ancestors many times and in various ways through the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us through his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things and through whom he also made the world” (Heb 1:1–2); and a little further on: “That those who have been called may receive the eternal inheritance that was promised” (Heb 9:15) For, and this is the profound reason for Paul’s wonder, the Lord’s disciples are already associated with the triumph of their risen Master. Nothing in this world need frighten them any longer, for death has been conquered and the gates to eternal life are open. The work that God accomplishes in the hearts of believers is a true inner resurrection. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew 28:16–20

Here is Jesus’ farewell discourse, after the Resurrection, in Galilee, commonly called the ‘crossroads of the Gentiles’, the ‘Galilee of the nations’, for the Apostles’ mission now concerns ‘all nations’ . The Gospel of Matthew seems to end abruptly: but in reality, the adventure is just beginning. It is like a film in which the word “THE END” appears on a road stretching out towards infinity. For it is precisely towards infinity that Jesus sends them: the immensity of the world and the infinity of the ages. “Go… Make disciples of all nations… Until the end of the world.” But were the disciples ready for such a mission? If Jesus were a business leader, he could not risk entrusting the future of his enterprise to collaborators like these, who seem not to have fully absorbed all the training he had provided over months. They are mistaken about the objective, the timing, and the nature of the enterprise. They even go so far as to doubt the reality they are experiencing, for Matthew clearly states, “some, however, doubted” (Mt 28:17). The mission entrusted to them, fraught with risks, is to promote a message that still surprises them. Folly, the wise would say; the wisdom of God, Saint Paul would reply. This is certainly no trivial undertaking: it surpasses everything the human spirit can imagine or conceive. It is a matter of communication between God and humankind. He who kindled the spark entrusts to his disciples the task of spreading the fire: “Go! Make disciples of all nations: baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”: we do not often have the opportunity to dwell on this extraordinary formula of our faith. It is, in fact, the first formulation of the mystery of the Trinity: the expression “in the name of”, common in the Bible, signifies that there is indeed one God; at the same time, the three Persons are named and clearly distinguished: “ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”. If we recall that, in the Bible, the Name is the person, and that to baptise etymologically means “to immerse”, this means that Baptism literally immerses us in the Trinity. We understand Jesus’s peremptory command to his disciples: “Go”; there is urgency. How can we not be eager to see all humanity take advantage of this offer? At the same time, it must be said that this formula, so familiar to us, was a true revolution for the generation of Christ! Proof of this is that when the apostles Peter and John healed the lame man at the Beautiful Gate, the authorities immediately asked: “By what power or in whose name have you done this?” (Acts 4:7), because it was not permitted to invoke any name other than that of God. Jesus speaks precisely of God, but his statement mentions three persons, whereas God was one; the prophets had made this clear enough. The Jews’ misunderstanding of Christ’s followers is recorded here; persecution was inevitable. Jesus knows this, and he had warned them on the last evening: “ They will expel you from the synagogues; indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think they are offering worship to God, that is, they will think they are defending God’s honour (Jn 16:2)… And Jesus added: ‘They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me’ (Jn 16:3). The mission entrusted to the apostles truly seems like madness; but they are not alone, and this must never be forgotten. Insofar as our commitment is not our own but His, we have no reason to worry about the results: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go!” (Mt 28:18–19). In other words, it is we who go, but it is he who has all power. It is said that a few days after his election, John XXIII received a visit from a friend: “Most Holy Father,” he said, “how heavy the task must be!” John XXIII replied: “It’s true, in the evening, when I lie down, I think: ‘Angelo, you are the Pope,’ and I struggle to fall asleep; but after a few minutes I say to myself: ‘Angelo, how stupid you are, you are not the one in charge of the Church, it is the Holy Spirit.’ Then I turn over and fall asleep!” For us too, evangelisation must be our passion, not our anguish. Jesus made it quite clear: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” This sentence alone sums up the life of Christ: this takes place on a mountain, we do not know which one, but it evokes both the Mount of Temptation and the Mount of Transfiguration. On the Mount of Temptation, Jesus refused to receive power over creation from anyone other than the Father: “The devil took him up to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour, and said to him: “All these things I will give you if you will fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus answered him, ‘Be gone, Satan! For it is written: “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him alone shall you serve”’ (cf. Mt 4:8–10). This power, which Jesus did not claim nor purchase, is given to him by the Father. And now this power is in our hands! “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go! And Jesus adds, ‘I am with you always, even to the end of the age.’ The God of Presence revealed to Moses in the burning bush, the Emmanuel – which means ‘God with us’ – promised by Isaiah, are one in the Spirit of love that unites them. Ours is the mission to reveal to the world this loving presence of the Triune God.

Seventh Sunday in Easter  (year A)  [17 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (1:12–14)

The first sentence of the text sums up in a few words a crucial stage in the lives of the early Christians. For us it is the Ascension and we have made it a feast day, but, originally, was it not rather a day of mourning, a day of great departure? After the horror of Jesus’ Passion and death, after the splendour of the Resurrection, here they were, orphaned forever. But precisely for this reason they are closer to us, and their attitude can guide our own. Let us therefore look closely at their actions. Jesus had given them instructions: not to leave Jerusalem and to wait there for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Here is the account from the Acts: ‘While he was at table with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the Father’s promise. “‘What,’ he said, ‘you have heard from me: John baptised with water, but you will be baptised in the Holy Spirit in a few days’” . And on the very day of his departure, on the Mount of Olives, he repeated: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” I dwell on this expression “the power of the Spirit”, which should reassure us in every circumstance. And Luke recounts: “Having said this, whilst they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight.” Obviously, they obeyed the Master’s command. It is therefore no surprise to find them in Jerusalem shortly afterwards; Luke notes that the Mount of Olives is very close to the city: the distance does not exceed what is known as the ‘Sabbath journey’, that is, the maximum distance one may travel without violating the Sabbath rest; it was just under a kilometre, two thousand cubits, and a cubit, as the name suggests, is the length of the forearm, about fifty centimetres. But why does Luke give this precise measurement? Are we to infer that it was the Sabbath? Or, by emphasising the proximity of the Mount of Olives, does Luke wish to suggest that everything is fulfilled in Jerusalem? It is there that God’s plan is fulfilled: there the Son was glorified, there the Covenant between God and humanity was renewed, there the Spirit will be given. It is in the holy city, therefore, that the life of the nascent Church begins; and Luke lists those who make up the group: the Eleven, some women, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and some brothers, that is, probably disciples. Here too, the details are not merely anecdotal; we already knew the names of the apostles from Luke’s Gospel; if he gives us the list again, it is not to instruct us! Luke wishes to highlight the continuity within the community of the apostles: they are the very same who accompanied Jesus throughout his earthly life, and now they are committed to the mission. And they will be able to bear witness to the Resurrection only because they have been witnesses to the life, Passion and death of Jesus. We thus find again the group of people so different from one another whom Jesus had chosen: Peter, James, John and Andrew, fishermen on the Sea of Tiberias; Simon the Zealot—at the time of Jesus’ earthly life, this was not yet a political commitment, but it was already a sign of religious fanaticism. One wonders how he could stand alongside Matthew the tax collector, a tax collector in the pay of the occupying power and, for this reason, barred from worship! Not only did Jesus manage to bring them together around him, but they will now share the responsibility of continuing their Master’s mission. Christian tradition has identified Bartholomew with Nathanael, mentioned by Saint John, who was a specialist in the Law; if this were the case, it would have been a further point of diversity within the group of the Twelve. It is upon this community of men, so different from one another, that the proclamation of the Gospel now rests. A few brief observations: first of all, their group is not closed in on itself, but is already open to others, men and women; secondly, they begin this life of the Church in prayer, ‘devoted and of one accord’, as Luke emphasises. Perhaps the first miracle of the apostles is this praying together as one heart at the moment when the Master leaves them, and they find themselves seemingly left to their own devices and to their differences, which could have turned into divisions. In truth, they are only apparently left to their own devices: Jesus, though now invisible, is not absent. Matthew, in his Gospel, has preserved one of Jesus’ final words: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’ The apostles, therefore, do not pray for Jesus to draw near: his presence is assured; they pray to immerse themselves once more in his presence. This account from the Acts of the Apostles becomes for us a powerful lesson in hope: Jesus is with us always, his presence is assured, and the power of the Holy Spirit accompanies us! 

Responsorial Psalm (26/27)

This psalm is for those going through difficult times. Believers are not exempt from life’s trials, and faith is no magic wand. Sometimes they suffer precisely because of their faith, as in religious wars or persecutions, or due to the hostility of atheists and the struggle to defend Christian values in a world that does not share them. We shall find an example of this in the Letter of Saint Peter, this Sunday’s second reading. But in their trials, believers know they are not alone, abandoned to their sad fate, for they have someone to turn to: “It is to God that my eyes weep,” said Job (Job 16:20). And they go to seek strength where it is found, that is, in God. “The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear?” We do not know to which specific trials this psalm alludes; incidentally, it is much longer than the few verses read here, but the missing verses provide no historical details. Here and there one senses an allusion to external attacks: “The Lord is the bulwark of my life: before whom should I tremble?”. Ever since the great adventure of the Exodus, Israel has been threatened in its very existence on numerous occasions. The first verse, “The Lord is my light and my salvation”, is probably also an allusion to the Exodus under Moses’s leadership: in the Sinai desert, the pillar of cloud lit the way and signified God’s presence. Salvation, then, meant escaping from Pharaoh; in every age, salvation takes different forms, and Israel has experienced all manner of them, evoked through allusions in the psalm. To say “The Lord is the bulwark of my life” brings to mind the long period of wars, and the best bulwark is the strength that God gives us. “If you do not believe, you will not stand firm,” Isaiah said to King Ahaz (Is 7:9). Faith is the only strength that enables us to face everything: “Whom shall I fear?”. This means that God protects us from all fear and that we do not even fear Him. In all trials and sufferings, the believer knows that they can cry out to God: indeed, it is even recommended in the Bible, for groaning, weeping and praying is not cowardly, but simply human, and it is to God that we must groan, weep and pray. “Hear, O Lord, I call upon you,” says the psalm, and of one thing the chosen people are certain: that God hears our cry. Let us think of the great revelation of the Burning Bush: “The cry of the children of Israel has come to me,” God said to Moses (Ex. 3:7–9). And from that day Israel has known that God hears the cry of those who suffer. We read in the psalm: “One thing I have asked of the Lord, this alone I seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life”: like the Levite, admitted into the inner sanctum of the temple in Jerusalem, Israel asks for the grace to dwell in the presence of God. “Have mercy, answer me,” is a beggar’s cry and also a plea for forgiveness, for the expression that follows, “Seek my face,” is a call to conversion; for ever since settling in the Promised Land, the people have faced a new danger: that of unfaithfulness, that is, idolatry. However, when we read “Seek my face”, it is not God who thirsts for our homage and asks something of us for his own sake. God loves us, and all the commandments are for our happiness. St Augustine states: “Everything that man does for God benefits man and not God”. For God, the centre of the world is humanity, and He has no other purpose than our happiness—a happiness we find only when God is at the centre of our lives, for as St Augustine said: “You have made us for Yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” It is interesting to compare Psalm 26/27 with the Canticle of Zechariah, which we sing every morning in the Liturgy of the Hours.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (4:13–16)

In the early days of the Church, as we know from the Acts of the Apostles, the first disciples of Christ did not yet bear this name; they were called ‘Nazarenes’, because of Nazareth, and this name, used by the Jews who refused to recognise Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah awaited by Israel, was a derogatory term. Later, when Barnabas and Paul were carrying out their mission in Antioch of Syria, it was probably pagans who had not yet converted to the Christian Church who gave Jesus’ disciples the name ‘Christians’, which means ‘of Christ, belonging to Christ’. This new title of ‘Christian’ was not an honour either. The unconverted pagans viewed with suspicion the radical change of life taking place within the community of the baptised. Shortly before, in his letter, Peter writes: ‘They find it strange that you no longer rush with them towards the same torrent of perdition, and they revile you’; ‘They slander you, treating you as evildoers’. Here, Saint Peter speaks of the sufferings—that is, the misunderstanding, the isolation, the slander—of which Jesus was a victim because he continued to proclaim his message without letting anyone stop him, with that fidelity that cost him his life. In turn, the early Christians face the same hostility, and Peter seeks to give them the courage to hold firm whilst awaiting the day when the glory of Christ will be revealed—that is, the day when Jesus will come to inaugurate his kingdom among men. Peter goes even further: not only must one not be ashamed, but on the contrary, the title of ‘Christian’ is, in his eyes, the highest dignity: “Rejoice,” he tells them, because of the name ‘Christian’, which means ‘belonging to Christ’. Furthermore, when he says: “To the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice…” he is speaking of the Beatitudes proclaimed by Jesus: “Blessed are you when they revile you, persecute you and, lying, say all sorts of evil against you on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great!” . And Jesus, in saying this, was describing himself. Now Peter applies this description to those who, in turn, bear the name of Christ. He even says that “you share in the sufferings of Christ”, which means: “rejoice because you are intimately united with Christ in these sufferings you endure to remain faithful to his name and his mission. And since you are united to his sufferings, you will likewise be united to his glory on the day when the truth will burst forth.” It is clear, however, that suffering is not an end in itself, but the goal is to be united to Christ and to God in the Spirit of love, whatever the circumstances—happy or unhappy—may be in our lives. And Peter points to a way of facing persecution for the sake of Christ’s name: “To the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice…”. Here is a proclamation and an encouragement, for the day will come when Christ will be recognised by all, and you along with him; and on that day it will be recognised that you were not mistaken because Christ had deceived you. We therefore need the courage to persevere, for you have chosen the right path. The Book of Acts recounts that after being flogged, Peter and John “left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing that they had been counted worthy to suffer dishonour for the name of Jesus”. Peter was only able to do this after Pentecost: one must be filled with the Spirit of Jesus to have the courage to face persecution in his name and to know that mysterious joy of being in communion with him, even in suffering, that joy which no one can take from us! The Church offers us this text from Peter as we await Pentecost, a special time for rediscovering the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of our communities. 

From the Gospel according to John (17:1b-11a)

These final words of Jesus: “I am coming to you” mysteriously draw us into Jesus’ prayer at the very moment he is about to reach the Father: “I am coming to you”. It is the Hour of the great passage: “Father, the hour has come”, that Hour of which he spoke many times during his earthly life, that Hour which he seemed both to desire and to fear. It is the decisive Hour, central to all human history, the Hour which all creation awaits as a birth: for it is the Hour of the fulfilment of God’s plan. From now on, nothing will ever be the same again. In this decisive Hour, the mystery of the Father will finally be revealed to the world: this is why Jesus repeatedly uses the words “glory” and “glorify”. A person’s glory, in the biblical sense, is not their fame or the recognition of others; it is their true worth. The glory of God is therefore God Himself, who reveals Himself to mankind in all the splendour of His holiness. The verb ‘to glorify’ can be replaced with ‘to reveal’. In this decisive Hour, God will be glorified, revealed in the Son, and believers will finally ‘know’ the Father; they will enter into that intimacy which unites the Son to the Father, and which the Son communicates to mankind. Those who accept this revelation and believe in Jesus will enter into this intimacy with the Father: they will enter into true life: “Eternal life is that they may know you, the one true God, and the one whom you have sent, Jesus Christ”. Here, from the very mouth of Jesus, is a definition of eternal life: Jesus speaks in the present tense and describes eternal life as the state of those who know God and Christ. We already live this life from the moment of our Baptism. Speaking of his disciples, Jesus says: “They have truly known that I came from you, and they have believed that you sent me.”  At that moment, only a portion of humanity received this revelation and entered into the communion of love offered by the Father, accepting to take the path opened by the Son; and it is for these few alone that Jesus prays: “I pray for them; I do not pray for the world, but for those whom you have given me…” It is the mystery of God’s choices that is repeated: just as the Father had chosen Abraham to reveal his great plan to him, he chose certain members of Abraham’s lineage to bring the revelation of his mystery to fulfilment: “I have made your name known to the people you have given me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you…” . For this small chosen people, the hour has come to continue the work of revelation: “I am no longer in the world; they, however, are in the world, and I am coming to you.” Jesus passes the baton to us in a way: he has given us everything; now it is up to us to give it to others. We must let Jesus’ insistence on the word “give” resound within us: the Father has given authority to the Son… the Son will give eternal life to mankind… the Father has given mankind to the Son… the Father has given his words to the Son… and the Son has given these words to his brothers. Jesus’ emphasis on the verb ‘to give’ permeates the entire biblical meditation: our relationship with God is not a matter of calculation. It is enough for us to allow ourselves to be loved and continually filled with his grace. The word ‘grace’ means a free gift. The logic of the gift, of gratuitousness, is that of the Son who lives eternally in a dialogue of love with the Father. In the prologue to his Gospel, John says that the Son is eternally ‘turned towards the Father’ (Jn 1:18) (“No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the Father’s bosom, he has made him known.” The expression “in the Father’s bosom” (from the Greek eis ton kolpon tou Patros) is interpreted as: “turned towards the Father”, “in intimate communion with the Father”, “in the Father’s intimacy”. Thus the idea that the Son is eternally “turned towards the Father” arises from this verse, even though the expression “turned towards the Father” is a theological paraphrase, not a literal quotation. And since there is no shadow between them, he reflects the Father’s glory: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”. Between them, everything is love, dialogue, sharing: “All that is mine is yours, and all that is yours is mine”. The Prologue of John’s Gospel is illuminated by the reading of this prayer of Jesus; it is, as it were, its transposition (Jn 1:1–18).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

6th Easter Sunday (year A)  [10 May 2026] 

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (8:5–8, 14–17)

Let me return to the first sentence: ‘Philip, one of the Seven’, that is, one of the seven men appointed to organise the distribution of food in Jerusalem. In practical terms, the issue was ensuring a fair distribution of what amounted to a food bank for widows. Last Sunday we saw that a problem had arisen among the very first Christians. After Jesus’ Resurrection, all those who followed the apostles and asked for baptism were Jews, either by birth or converts to Judaism (those known as proselytes). But there were already great differences amongst them. Among these Jews, some were originally from Israel, and in particular from Jerusalem, and spoke Hebrew in the synagogue and Aramaic on the street: they were called Jews. The others were from the Diaspora, that is, the rest of the Roman Empire: they spoke Greek and were called Hellenists. For the celebration of the Sabbath, all Jews, whether they had become Christians or not, would go to the synagogues: Jews on one side, Hellenists on the other. But for Christian celebrations, the Jews who had become Christians would gather in private homes, Hellenists and Jews together. It was in the context of these Christian celebrations that a first dispute broke out between these two groups of Christians, concerning the aid given to widows. And, to resolve it, seven men were appointed to be in charge of the distribution of food (today we might say ‘material matters’). That was last Sunday’s reading. Among these seven men, Stephen and Philip—both Jews who had recently become Christians—were ardent, fervent Hellenists and were likely recognised as leaders; they sought to convert to Jesus Christ the Jews who attended the synagogues where Greek was spoken, and it was there that a second dispute arose. Not a dispute between Christians of different origins, but a far more serious one between Hellenistic Jews (that is, Jews of the Diaspora): a dispute pitting those who believe in Jesus of Nazareth, the unrecognised Messiah, crucified and risen, against those who continue to think that Jesus was nothing but an impostor. And that is where the first persecution begins: the Jews who refuse to believe in Jesus Christ attack their Jewish brothers who have become Christians. Stephen is martyred: denounced by Hellenistic Jews to the authorities in Jerusalem, he is arrested and executed. Stephen’s martyrdom does not quell the fury of his opponents; on the contrary, they will turn their wrath upon the other Christians in Stephen’s group. This very first persecution does not target Jesus’s direct apostles—Peter, John, James and the others who are part of the Jewish group; it targets only the Hellenists. Thus, Jesus’ apostles were not disturbed and remained in Jerusalem, continuing to practise the Jewish religion whilst preaching in the name of Jesus. Instead, out of prudence, the Hellenist group dispersed: those most at risk moved away, but naturally, wherever they went, they spoke of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. And so, thanks to the persecution, the Good News spreads beyond Jerusalem and reaches the other cities of Judea and Samaria. Later, people will recall Jesus’ final words on the day of the Ascension: ‘You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). This is exactly what is happening: paradoxically, it is this trial—the persecution and scattering of the community—that allows evangelisation to gain ground. This is why Philip went down to Samaria, and instead of hiding, he began to preach, quickly going beyond the mission entrusted to him. At first, Philip was chosen to be one of the Seven charged with the service of the widows’ tables in Jerusalem, and we find him preaching in Samaria. At the same time, he remains visibly in contact with those who entrusted him with his mission, for the Jerusalem community sends Peter and John to him, who will in a sense authenticate the work accomplished by Philip. This takes place in Samaria, and we know just how much the people of Jerusalem despised the Samaritans: they regarded them as heretics; for centuries, Jews and Samaritans had carefully nurtured their quarrels and mutual contempt. Philip is not troubled by these old quarrels: he, the man of the Diaspora, is undoubtedly far removed from these theological disputes and, in any case, thanks to him, the Gospel has just crossed the boundaries of the synagogue. Instead, he emphasises the joy of the Samaritans in receiving the Good News 

Responsorial Psalm (65/66) 

We have heard only a few verses of the twenty that make up Psalm 65/66, yet the long journey of the faithful is summarised here in three stages. The first is suggested in verse 6 with the reference to the Exodus, the departure from Egypt with Moses: “He turned the sea into dry land”, then the entry into the Promised Land under the guidance of Joshua, with the miracle of the drying up of the Jordan: “They crossed the river on dry ground”. When one reads the Psalms carefully, one is struck by the abundance of echoes of the Exodus, which is the foundation of Israel’s faith experience and thus of its hope. In the second stage, the psalmist invites his contemporaries to prayer, praise and the sharing of the faith experience: “Come, listen, all you who fear God; I will tell you what he has done for my soul” . Third stage: the whole earth is invited to join in the praise of God: “Praise God, all the earth; celebrate the glory of his name, glorify him by singing his praises. Say to God: How awesome are your works!” It is not the first time that Israel’s prayer has expanded to encompass the whole earth, that is, all humanity. The chosen people have come to understand over time that their mission is to bring all peoples into the joy of God. Isaiah says: “My house shall be called a ‘House of prayer for all peoples’” (Is 56:7). In the psalm, one already senses a kind of anticipation of that day, as if all peoples were already part of the procession of pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem: ‘The whole earth bows down before you, sings to you, sings to your name.’ This psalm looks at once to the past, the present and the future... In the past, God freed his people from slavery in Egypt. Today, he liberates at every moment those who allow him to act; in the future, all humanity will be definitively freed from the chains that currently bind it in fear and war. This psalm thus introduces us to what the historical dimension of the faith experience represents for the Jewish people. And, as always in the biblical world, the collective dimension takes precedence over the individual experience. From the earliest age, the Jewish child shares in the memory of his people: daily prayers, the Sabbath, festivals and pilgrimages evoke a collective memory into which the child is gradually immersed; he hears adults singing the glory of God and recounting His mighty deeds countless times, and one day, in turn, quite naturally, he too will take up the baton. They hear their elders say: “Blessed be God who has not rejected my prayer, nor turned his love away from me.” They will remember the deeds of God who freed their ancestors from slavery in Egypt: He turned the sea into dry land, and they crossed the river on dry ground. The adults’ day, from morning prayer to evening prayer, passing through meals and all the acts of daily life, is steeped in this memory of the God who frees from all bondage. The Jewish child enters quite naturally into the ‘memory’ of his people, but all this presupposes family life and a strong sense of belonging to a people.  Here, perhaps, lies one of the keys to our problems in passing on the faith: it is precisely this collective memory that is lacking in many of our young Christians. The memory of a people is not a matter for religious education classes, however excellent they may be, but a matter of community life, of repeated rituals, of slow assimilation; and we can clearly see how grave the dangers of individualism are. At the same time, we know what remains for us to do if we wish to pass on the faith to the new generations: it is urgent that we return to imbuing the whole of family life with this faith-filled memory and give renewed vigour to our Christian communities.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (3:15–18)

Reading between the lines of this text, one can imagine that Peter’s listeners were suffering harassment and ridicule at the hands of the pagans; not overt persecution, but latent hostility, and they had to explain time and again why they rejected certain pagan practices, such as sacrifices to pagan deities. Peter tells them: ‘Brothers, it is now your turn to behave as Christ behaved. He too faced accusations, slander and threats, yet he did not waver; now it is your turn, and you must be able to stand firm against your adversaries.

Where will this steadfast courage come from? Christians have but one source, one argument, one message: Christ died and rose again. Peter says nothing else: “Worship the Lord, Christ, in your hearts… For Christ too died once and for all for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you back to God; put to death in the body, but made alive in the spirit”. The body, the flesh, in biblical language, signify human weakness, the fact of being mortal. It is difficult for enemies to understand that Jesus died and rose again. Christians explained that, because he was filled with the Spirit of God, death could not hold him in its power, and the Spirit enabled him to pass through biological death and brought life to him—the gift of the Spirit of life which had been manifested upon him on the day of Jesus’ Baptism. This same Spirit, who entered us through Baptism, enables us to overcome evil, hatred and sadness, and this is our hope—the hope of which Peter says we must give an account at all times. Christ had said to the Apostles: “Take heart; I have overcome the world.” The witness the world expects from us is that evil is not inevitable, and for this reason we must never give up in the face of evil, hatred and violence. Christ suffered for our sins once and for all, and the expression ‘once and for all’ is a cry of victory: the world of evil and sin is definitively conquered through the obedience of the Son. Peter strongly links the two aspects of Christian witness: prayer is what takes place in the secret of the heart, and then there is the public courage of witness; the first cannot exist without the other. “Worship the holiness of Christ in your hearts” is what takes place in the secret of prayer, from which we shall draw the boldness needed to proclaim our hope through our lives: “Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you to give an account of the hope that is within you.” Peter advises us not to speak first, but to be ready to answer the questions of those who ask. This phrase comes to mind: “Do not speak unless you are asked, but live in such a way that they ask you.” If life becomes a true witness to hope, those who meet you will wonder where such indestructible hope comes from. It is therefore not possible to bear witness to Jesus unless we live this hope, which means that witness is given first and foremost through deeds and not through words. Jesus says: “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Mt 5:16). Saint Paul VI noted that our contemporaries seek witnesses, not teachers… and they listen to teachers only if they are witnesses. A witness given with “gentleness and respect”, Pietro emphasises, which must never desert us so that “those who slander our good conduct in Christ may be put to shame”. 

From the Gospel according to John (14:15–21)

On the evening of Holy Thursday, after the washing of the feet, Jesus speaks at length with his disciples for the last time. He speaks of the Father and of the relationship that unites him, the Son, to the Father, but he also speaks of the bond that now unites the apostles to his Father and to him. A bond that nothing and no one can destroy: “I am in my Father, you are in me and I am in you… Whoever loves me will be loved by my Father”.

And as he prepares to leave them, he announces the coming of the Spirit. The apostles recalled the prophecies of Ezekiel: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you” (Ezek 36:26) and “I will no longer hide my face from them, for I will have poured out my Spirit upon the house of Israel” (Ezek 39:29). With Joel, the promise of the gift of the Spirit had become universal: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh” (Joel 3:1). When Jesus says, “The Spirit of truth remains with you, and will be in you”, he announces that the great day of the definitive Covenant has arrived. These words of his evoke Israel’s long wait, for the aspiration of all Old Testament believers was the presence of God in the midst of his people. There had been the Tabernacle during the Exodus, then the Temple in Jerusalem, but they awaited the New Covenant in which God would dwell not in buildings, but in the hearts of his people, intimately present in every believing heart. God had promised this through the mouth of Ezekiel, for example: ‘My dwelling place will be with them; I will be their God, and they will be my people’ (Ezek 37:27) and Zechariah: ‘Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion; behold, I am coming to dwell among you’ (Zech 2:14). The apostles were imbued with this hope: they knew that the definitive Covenant promised in the Old Testament was intended for all humanity, and during his public life, Jesus had repeatedly expressed the desire that the whole world might be saved. But why does he say that the world is incapable of receiving the Spirit of truth, and why does he say this at this very decisive moment of salvation? It is certainly not a value judgement, but an observation: The world cannot receive him, because it neither sees nor knows him. But Jesus continues: you, however, know him, because he dwells with you and will be in you. This is a sending forth on mission, for it is as if he were saying: “The world does not know the Spirit of truth… It is up to you to make him known; it is up to you to help people discover the active presence of the Spirit in every human reality”. Jesus wants to strengthen his disciples: to help them believe that the contagion of love will gradually prevail and that it is possible to transform the spirit of the world into the spirit of love. In a way, the mission he entrusts to his disciples is evangelisation by contagion, from person to person. This will be possible because Jesus assures them: “I will pray to the Father and he will give you another Paraclete to remain with you forever”. In Greek, “parakletos” refers to one who is called to stand by an accused person to assist them: he is the comforter, the intercessor, the counsellor, the advocate, the defender. An advocate for a trial, but what trial are we talking about? The one in which the world acts against Christ’s disciples, and through them, against the Father himself and against Christ. Ultimately, it is the trial of “Truth”. Hence Jesus’ insistence on the word “truth” whenever he warns his disciples of the persecutions that await them: “When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness to me; and you also will bear witness, because you have been with me from the beginning” (Jn 15:26–27).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

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