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

Affliction and joy in the pains of childbirth

(Jn 16:20-23a)

A widespread belief in Jesus' age was that the end time would be preceded by an excess of tribulation and violence.

The jubilation of the future golden age would be heralded by an unprecedented trials period.

The image of the parturient expressed the sense of intensely painful history in the turn of the times.

Hard times that were expected to be not excessively durable - compensated for by a liberation that would have one startled with joy.

The spirit of self-sufficiency and feigned security of the surrounding world [even of the religious caste, concerned with safeguarding itself] would have led church members into terrifying loneliness.

The faithful contradicted the “pious” and imperial way of considering life, based on false security and a spirit of affirmation.

The historical moment seemed invaded by sadness and at the same time by an ineffable, radical expectation, which paradoxically arose from the same cause of persecution.

Exclusion produced a sense of discouragement, but it was also a spring that activated incisive glances, and action, for a reverse fulfillment - in the living experience of the divine Presence.

Social estrangement triggered a situation of Freedom: it became an unexpected, profitable, tangible Gift.

Everything was proved to be useful in reconciling the multiplicity of faces with one's own scattered history, sisters and brothers, and God's future.

End of misunderstandings.

In light of the actual experience of the working Vision-Faith, even in malaise there would have been no questions to advance: only answers.

The mystery of each person’s existence was then eloquently elucidated, without scattershot questions anymore: rather, with inner guides.

In the figure of Jesus who "grees" his intimates, Jn introduces the Gift of the Paraclete. Spirit bearing the joy of the Master’s [silent] Presence.

Still «in the midst» - He was giving birth to the new world.

Frequent allusions to intimate sufferings in the text describe the reality of the Johannine communities of Asia Minor at the end of the first century, tormented by defections.

Oppression under Domitian was increasing, and many community brethren were impatient: they needed a key to profound interpretation, and a perspective.

They were not going to make it on their own, starting with themselves.

Jn intends to sustain the pains of believers and prevent flight, encouraging all to see persecution as a life-giving mechanism [birth pangs: v.21].

Only in this way would he who had death before his eyes not fear to continue in his frankness as a witness: he must have a strong Hope.

On such a ray of light and in the wake of God in history, step by step everything became clear.

In the life of the woman and the man of Faith, melancholy and joy went hand in hand - indeed, it was the absolute and lacerating trials that unleashed flow of life.

The death of Christ and his intimates made possible a new Birth of humanity.

Mystery of life, of tribulations, and of being in fullness «new creatures» ‘from genesis to genesis’.

It was precisely the travail that produced in the sons of God the joy of a rediscovered Presence, in the long time of evangelization - always in danger of going astray and in the temptation to give in.

We must remember this rhythm: sadness of leave-taking and new heart, joy and sadness...

Paradoxical synergy that can grow our engaging union with the Risen One, recognized as «personal Lord».

[Friday 6th wk. in Easter, May 15, 2026]

Affliction and joy in labour pains

(Jn 16:20-23a)

A widespread belief at the time of Jesus was that the last time would be preceded by an excess of tribulation and violence.

The joy of the coming golden age would be heralded by a period of unprecedented trials.

The image of the woman giving birth expressed the sense of the intensely painful history at the turn of the times.

Times that were not expected to be excessively long - compensated by a deliverance that would cause one to rejoice.

The spirit of self-sufficiency and feigned security of the surrounding world (even of the religious caste, preoccupied with safeguarding itself) would lead church members into terrifying loneliness.

The believers contradicted the pious and imperial way of looking at life, based on false certainties and a spirit of affirmation.

The moment in history seemed invaded by sadness and at the same time by an ineffable, radical expectation, which paradoxically arose from the same cause of persecution.

Exclusion produced a sense of discouragement, but it was also a spring that activated incisive glances, and action, for a reverse fulfilment - in the living experience of the divine Presence.

Social estrangement triggered a situation of Freedom: it became an unexpected, fruitful, tangible Gift.

Everything was shown to reconcile the multiplicity of faces with their own scattered history, brothers and sisters, God's future.

No more misunderstandings.

In the light of the real experience of the working Vision-Faith, even in the malaise there would be no questions to put forward: only answers.

The mystery of each person's existence was eloquently clarified, with no more scattering questions: rather, with inner guides.

In the figure of Jesus "greeting" his own, Jn introduces the Gift of the Paraclete. Spirit bearing the joy of the [silent] Presence of the Master.

Still in the midst - He was bringing the new world into being.

The frequent allusions to inner suffering in the text describe the reality of the Johannine communities in late 1st century Asia Minor, tormented by defections.

The oppression under Domitian was increasing, and many community brothers were impatient: they needed a profound key to interpretation, and perspective.

They would not have made it on their own, starting from themselves.

Jn intends to sustain the pains of the believers and to avoid flight, encouraging all to see in persecutions a generating mechanism of new life [labour pains: v.21].

Only in this way would those who had death before their eyes not be afraid to continue in their frankness as witnesses: they had to have a strong Hope.

On such a ray of light and in the wake of God in history, step by step everything became clear.

In the life of the woman and the man of Faith, melancholy and joy went hand in hand - indeed, it was the absolute and lacerating trials that unleashed the flow of life.

The death of Christ and his people made a new birth of humanity possible.

Mystery of life, of tribulations, and of being fully new creatures, from genesis to genesis.

In the Bible, Happiness is a perception of fullness of life, a place of celebration that transports the person and the entire fraternity from the ills of the journey - it is the great sign of the New World.

But the primitive communities experienced that intimate joy arose from the tears of a painful birth: this was also to be the case for the world to come; of unprecedented conquest and freedom.

From the labour pains arose a different, primordial life, filled with a different kind of exultation: dissonant from old forms, nomenclatures, and intentions, even for those giving birth.

In short, suffering did not deny the irradiation of the Spirit: it was a law of birth [not a negative force] that could indeed annihilate, but only those whose gaze was averted.

This was also the case with the Kingdom: its establishment happened within a struggle, never harmless - that even though it wounded outside and inside even the human substance, in the depths of the heart and relationships.

But it then reharmonised and more, in the thrill of discoveries, in the suggestions that throbbed - from which a new creation sprang.

To the official notes of the true Church [a holy catholic apostolic] one should perhaps add: harassed, scourged, nailed down. In this way, strengthened by a Word-Person that resonated within.

From all this came an unimpeded 'taste' from the earliest times, which immediately incurs worldly hostility. Nothing to do with empire and its pyramidal-feudal logic.

Precisely in the travail, each trial produced in the children of God the joy of a rediscovered Presence, in the long time of evangelisation - always in danger of going astray and in the temptation to yield.We must remember this rhythm: sadness of farewell and a new heart, joy and sadness....

Paradoxical synergy that can grow our engaging union with the Risen One, acknowledged Lord.

Spe Salvi

We somehow desire life itself, true life, which is then untouched even by death; but at the same time we do not know what we are being driven towards. We cannot cease striving towards it and yet we know that all that we can experience or realise is not what we long for. This unknown "thing" is the true "hope" that impels us and its being unknown is, at the same time, the cause of all despair as well as of all positive or destructive impulses towards the authentic world and authentic man. The word "eternal life" tries to give a name to this unknown known reality. Necessarily is an insufficient word that creates confusion. "Eternal', in fact, arouses in us the idea of the interminable, and this frightens us; 'life' makes us think of the life we know, which we love and do not want to lose, and which, however, is often at the same time more effort than fulfilment, so that while on the one hand we desire it, on the other hand we do not want it. We can only try to escape with our thoughts from the temporality of which we are prisoners and somehow presage that eternity is not a continuous succession of calendar days, but something like the moment filled with fulfilment, in which totality embraces us and we embrace totality. It would be the moment of diving into the ocean of infinite love, in which time - the before and the after - no longer exists. We can only try to think that this moment is life in the full sense, an ever new immersion in the vastness of being, while we are simply overwhelmed with joy. This is how Jesus expresses it in the Gospel of John: "I will see you again and your heart will rejoice and no one will be able to take your joy away" (16:22). We must think in this direction if we are to understand what Christian hope aims at, what we expect from faith, from our being with Christ.

[Pope Benedict, Spe Salvi n.12]

In some way we want life itself, true life, untouched even by death; yet at the same time we do not know the thing towards which we feel driven. We cannot stop reaching out for it, and yet we know that all we can experience or accomplish is not what we yearn for. This unknown “thing” is the true “hope” which drives us, and at the same time the fact that it is unknown is the cause of all forms of despair and also of all efforts, whether positive or destructive, directed towards worldly authenticity and human authenticity. The term “eternal life” is intended to give a name to this known “unknown”. Inevitably it is an inadequate term that creates confusion. “Eternal”, in fact, suggests to us the idea of something interminable, and this frightens us; “life” makes us think of the life that we know and love and do not want to lose, even though very often it brings more toil than satisfaction, so that while on the one hand we desire it, on the other hand we do not want it. To imagine ourselves outside the temporality that imprisons us and in some way to sense that eternity is not an unending succession of days in the calendar, but something more like the supreme moment of satisfaction, in which totality embraces us and we embrace totality—this we can only attempt. It would be like plunging into the ocean of infinite love, a moment in which time—the before and after—no longer exists. We can only attempt to grasp the idea that such a moment is life in the full sense, a plunging ever anew into the vastness of being, in which we are simply overwhelmed with joy. This is how Jesus expresses it in Saint John's Gospel: “I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (16:22). We must think along these lines if we want to understand the object of Christian hope, to understand what it is that our faith, our being with Christ, leads us to expect.

[Pope Benedict, Spe Salvi n.12]

1. We have already heard several times from St Paul that "joy is the fruit of the Holy Spirit" (Gal 5:22), as are love and peace, which we have discussed in previous catecheses. It is clear that the Apostle speaks of true joy, that which fills the human heart, certainly not of a superficial and transitory joy, as worldly joy often is.

It is not difficult, to an observer moving even along the lines of psychology and experience, to discover that degradation, in the field of pleasure and love, is proportional to the emptiness left in man by the fallacious and disappointing joys sought in what St Paul called the "works of the flesh": "Fornication, impurity, libertinage . . . drunkenness, orgies and the like' (Gal 5:19, 21). To these false joys can be added - and they are often linked to them - those sought in the possession and inordinate use of wealth, in luxury, in the ambition of power, in short, in that passion and almost frenzy for earthly goods that easily produces blindness of mind, as St Paul warns (cf. Eph 4:18-19), and Jesus laments (cf. Mk 4:19).

2. Paul was referring to the situation of the pagan world, to exhort converts to beware of iniquities: "Ye have not thus learned to know Christ, if ye have indeed hearkened unto him, and have been instructed in him, according to the truth which is in Jesus, whereby ye must lay aside the old man with the former conduct, the man that corrupteth himself after deceitful lusts. You must be renewed in the spirit of your mind and put on the new man, created according to God in righteousness and true holiness' (Eph 4:20-24). It is the 'new creature' (2 Cor 5:17), which is the work of the Holy Spirit, present in the soul and in the Church. Therefore the Apostle concludes his exhortation to good conduct and peace this way: "Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were marked for the holy day of redemption" (Eph 4:30).

If the Christian "grieves" the Holy Spirit, who lives in his soul, he certainly cannot hope to possess true joy, which comes from him: "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace . . ." (Gal 5:22). Only the Holy Spirit gives the deep, full and lasting joy to which every human heart yearns. Man is a being made for joy, not sadness. Paul VI reminded Christians and all people of our time of this in his apostolic exhortation 'Gaudete in Domino'. And true joy is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

3. In the Letter to the Galatians, Paul told us that joy is linked to charity (cf. Gal 5:22). It cannot therefore be a selfish experience, the result of disordered love. True joy includes the righteousness of the kingdom of God, of which St Paul says that "it is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit" (Rom 4:17).

It is evangelical righteousness, consisting in conformity to God's will, obedience to His laws, personal friendship with Him. Outside this friendship there is no true joy. Indeed, 'sadness as an evil and vice,' St Thomas explains, 'is caused by disordered self-love, which . . . is the general root of vices' (S. Thomae, Summa theologiae, II-II, q. 28, a. 4, ad 1; cf. ibid., I-II, q. 72, a. 4). Especially sin is a source of sadness, because it is a deviation and almost a distortion of the soul from God's righteous order, which gives consistency to life. The Holy Spirit, who works in man the new righteousness in charity, removes sadness and gives joy: that joy we see flourishing in the Gospel.

4. The Gospel is an invitation to joy and an experience of true and deep joy. Thus in the Annunciation, Mary is invited to rejoice: 'Rejoice (Khaire), full of grace' (Lk 1:28). It is the crowning of a whole series of invitations formulated by the prophets in the Old Testament (cf. Zech 9:9; Zeph 3:14-17; Gl 2:21-27; Is 54:1). Mary's joy will be realised with the coming of the Holy Spirit, announced to Mary as the reason for the "Rejoicing".

In the Visitation, Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit and joy, in the natural and supernatural participation in the exultation of her son who is still in her womb: "The child has rejoiced with joy in my womb" (Lk 1:44). Elizabeth perceives her son's joy, and manifests it, but it is the Holy Spirit who, according to the evangelist, fills both of them with such joy. Mary, in turn, just then hears the song of exultation gushing forth from her heart, expressing the humble, clear and profound joy that fills her almost in fulfilment of the Angel's "Rejoice": "My spirit exults in God, my Saviour" (Lk 1:47). Mary's words also echo the prophets' voice of joy, as echoed in the Book of Habakkuk: "I will rejoice in the Lord, I will exult in God my Saviour" (Hab 3:18).A prolongation of this rejoicing occurs during the presentation of the child Jesus in the Temple, when, upon meeting him, Simeon rejoices under the impulse of the Holy Spirit who had made him long to see the Messiah and had prompted him to go to the Temple (cf. Lk 2, 26-32); and in her turn, the prophetess Anna, so called by the evangelist, who therefore presents her as a woman consecrated to God and interpreter of his thoughts and commands, according to the tradition of Israel (cf. Ex 15, 20; Jdc 4, 9; 2 Kings 22, 14), expresses with praise to God the intimate joy that also originates in her from the Holy Spirit (Lk 2, 36-38).

5. In the Gospel pages concerning Jesus' public life, we read that, at a certain moment, he himself "rejoiced in the Holy Spirit" (Lk 10:21). Jesus expresses joy and gratitude in a prayer that celebrates the Father's benevolence: "I praise you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the learned and the wise and revealed them to the little ones. Yes, Father, for it pleased you" (Lk 10:21). In Jesus, joy takes on its full force in the impulse towards the Father. So it is with the joys stimulated and sustained by the Holy Spirit in people's lives: their secret vitality directs them in the direction of a love full of gratitude towards the Father. All true joy has the Father as its ultimate end.

To the disciples Jesus addresses the invitation to rejoice, to overcome the temptation of sadness for the departure of the Master, because this departure is a condition laid down in the divine plan for the coming of the Holy Spirit: "It is good for you that I am going away, because if I do not go away, the Paraclete will not come to you; but when I am gone, I will send him to you" (Jn 16:7). It will be the gift of the Spirit that will bring the disciples great joy, indeed the fullness of joy, according to the intention expressed by Jesus. The Saviour, in fact, after inviting the disciples to remain in his love, had said: "This I have spoken to you that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be full" (Jn 15:11; cf. Jn 17:13). It is the Holy Spirit who puts into the hearts of the disciples the same joy as Jesus, the joy of faithfulness to the love that comes from the Father.

St Luke attests that the disciples, who at the time of the Ascension had received the promise of the gift of the Holy Spirit, "returned to Jerusalem with great joy and were always in the temple praising God" (Lk 24:52-53). In the Acts of the Apostles it appears that, after Pentecost, a climate of profound joy had been created in the Apostles, which was communicated to the community in the form of exultation and enthusiasm in embracing the faith, receiving baptism, and living together, as evidenced by "taking meals with gladness and simplicity of heart, praising God and enjoying the sympathy of all the people" (Acts 2:46-47). The book of Acts notes: "The disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit" (Acts 13, 52).

6. Soon would come the tribulations and persecutions foretold by Jesus in announcing the coming of the Paraclete-Consoler (cf. Jn 16:1ff). But according to Acts, joy endures even in trial: we read that the Apostles, when they were brought before the Sanhedrin, flogged, admonished and sent home, returned "rejoicing that they had been outraged for the sake of the name of Jesus. And every day, in the temple and at home, they did not cease to teach and to bring the good news that Jesus is the Christ" (Acts 5:41-42).

This, after all, is the condition and lot of Christians, as St Paul reminds the Thessalonians: "You have become imitators of us and of the Lord, having received the word with the joy of the Holy Spirit even in the midst of great tribulation" (1 Thess 1:6). Christians, according to Paul, repeat in themselves the paschal mystery of Christ, which has the Cross as its pivot. But its crowning glory is the "joy of the Holy Spirit" for those who persevere in trials. This is the joy of the beatitudes, and more particularly the beatitude of the afflicted, and of the persecuted (cf. Mt 5:4, 10-12). Did not the Apostle Paul say: 'I rejoice in the sufferings I endure for you . . ." (Col 1:24)? And Peter, for his part, exhorted: "Inasmuch as you share in Christ's sufferings, rejoice, that in the revelation of his glory you may also rejoice and exult" (1 Pet 4:13).

Let us pray to the Holy Spirit to kindle in us more and more the desire for heavenly goods and make us one day enjoy their fullness: "Give virtue and reward, give holy death, give eternal joy.

Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 19 June 1991]

Do not be afraid", especially in difficult times: this was the message that Pope Francis reiterated in the Mass celebrated on Friday 30 May in the chapel of the Casa Santa Marta. A message of hope that spurs one to be courageous and to have "peace in one's soul" precisely in trials - sickness, persecution, everyday problems in the family - certain that true joy will be experienced afterwards, because "after the darkness there always comes the sun".

In this perspective, the Pontiff immediately pointed to the testimony of Saint Paul - a 'very courageous' man - presented in the Acts of the Apostles (18:9-18). Paul, he explained, 'did many things because he had the strength of the Lord, his vocation to carry the Church forward, to preach the Gospel'. Yet it seems that he too was afraid at times. So much so that the Lord one night, in a vision, expressly invited him "not to be afraid".

So even St Paul 'knew what happens to all of us in life', that is, having 'a little fear'. A fear that even leads us to review our Christian life, perhaps asking ourselves if, in the midst of so many problems, after all "it would not be better to lower the level a little" to be "not so Christian", seeking "a compromise with the world" so that "things would not be so difficult".

A reasoning, however, that did not belong to St Paul, who 'knew that what he was doing did not please either the Jews or the pagans'. And the Acts of the Apostles recount the consequences: he was taken to court, then there was 'persecution, trouble'. All this, the Pontiff continued, also brings us 'back to our fears, to our fears'. And one wonders whether being afraid is Christian. After all, the Pope recalled, "Jesus himself had it. Think of the prayer in Gethsemane: "Father, take this cup away from me. He had anguish". But Jesus also says: "Do not be afraid, go ahead!". It is precisely of this that he speaks in his farewell speech to his disciples, in the Gospel of John (16:20-23), when he tells them clearly: "You will weep and wail, but the world will rejoice"; moreover, it will mock you.

Which, then, punctually happened. "Let us think," remarked the bishop of Rome, "of those spectacles in the Coliseum, for example, with the first martyrs" who were led to "die while people rejoiced" saying: "These fools who believe in the Risen One now let them end up like this!". For many, the martyrdom of Christians "was a feast: see how they died!". What Jesus told the disciples has therefore happened: "the world will rejoice" while "you will be in sadness".

There is, then, "the Christian's fear, the Christian's sadness". Besides, the Pope explained, "we must tell ourselves the truth: not all Christian life is a feast. Not all of it! One weeps, many times one weeps!". The difficult situations in life are many: for example, he noted, 'when you are sick, when you have a problem in your family, with your children, your daughter, your wife, your husband. When you see that your salary doesn't reach the end of the month and you have a sick child and you see that you can't pay the mortgage on the house and you have to leave'. It is "so many problems that we have". Yet "Jesus tells us: do not be afraid!".

There is also "another sadness", Pope Francis added: that "which comes to all of us when we go down a road that is not good". Or when, 'to put it simply, we buy, we go and buy the joy, the joy of the world, the joy of sin'. With the result that 'in the end there is emptiness within us, there is sadness'. And this is precisely "the sadness of bad cheerfulness".

But if the Lord does not hide the sadness, he does not leave us with this word alone. He goes on to say: 'But if you are faithful, your sadness will be changed into joy'. Here is the key point: "Christian joy is a joy in hope that comes. But in the moment of trial we do not see it'. It is in fact "a joy that is purified by trials, even everyday trials". The Lord says: 'Your sadness will be changed into joy'. A difficult discourse to get across, the Pope acknowledged. You can see it, for example, "when you go to a sick person, to a sick person who is suffering so much, to say: cheer up, cheer up, tomorrow you will have joy!". It is a matter of making that person who suffers "feel the way Jesus made her feel". It is "an act of faith in the Lord" and it is also for us "when we are in the dark and see nothing". An act that makes us say: 'I know, Lord, that this sadness will be changed into joy. I don't know how, but I do!".

These days, the Pontiff observed, in the liturgy the Church celebrates the moment when "the Lord went away and left the disciples alone". At that moment "some of them may have felt fear". But in everyone 'there was hope, the hope that that fear, that sadness will be changed into joy'. And "to make us understand well that this is true, the Lord takes the example of the woman giving birth", explaining: "Yes, it is true, in childbirth the woman suffers a lot, but then when she has the child with her she forgets" all the pain. And "what remains is joy", the joy "of Jesus: a joy purified in the fire of trials, of persecutions, of all that one must do to be faithful". Only this "is the joy that remains, a joy hidden in some moments of life, which is not felt in bad moments, but which comes later". It is, indeed, 'a joy in hope'.

Here then is 'the message of the Church today: do not be afraid', be 'courageous in suffering and think that after comes the Lord, after comes joy, after the darkness comes the sun'. The Pontiff then expressed the hope that 'the Lord will give us all this joy in hope'. And he explained that peace is "the sign we have of this joy in hope". Witnessing this 'peace in the soul' are, in particular, many 'sick people at the end of life, with sorrows'. Because precisely 'peace,' the Pope concluded, 'is the seed of joy, it is joy in hope'. If in fact "you have peace in your soul in the moment of darkness, in the moment of difficulty, in the moment of persecution, when everyone rejoices in your evil", it is a clear sign "you have the seed of that joy that will come later".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 31/05/2014]

«A very short time»: we are not in the waiting room

(Jn 16:16-20)

The human communion of the first disciples with the Master was suggestive, not exhaustive. It must now be renewed.

This takes place in the Jesus’ passage from the world to the Father. Thus in the journey and dialogue outside all circles, to which the apostles themselves are called.

The earthly separation from the Lord was dramatic. But today too we are driven to live and grow in the 'outgoing Church'.

A shift that forces the faithful in Christ to move from community sisters and brothers to an all-encompassing relationship with the human family.

The immediate perception would become unbreakable: Jesus must go and leave us alone so that we can enter the Mystery, in search.

So that it is the Risen One and the totally Other to emerge in this detachment, in the mist and night of the reiterated Exodus, all real and all new.

For us too, certainty becomes a problem; stability knows shocks.

We are not protégés - as in pagan religion, where the gods descended into our difficulties and sided with friends.

There is a severance from representations of God, even from our common way of thinking of the Risen One.

He becomes an echo of the soul - leading. And he becomes 'body', that is, Church; as well as “call” to the shattering of idols, to outgoing witness.

The evangelizing activity of the genuine apostles goes hand in hand with the Lord, and reflects His events, teaching, and type of confrontations.

In this way, the Living One becomes present and active in us, seamlessly.

Jn reflects a question-and-answer catechesis addressed to those who could not understand the meaning of the Master's death and asked for explanations.

Well: «a very short time» or «within a short time» are expressions that reaffirm and mark the continuity between the experience of physical closeness to Jesus and the ‘vision’ of the Risen One.

Transfigured and Lord in-us, He is the same Master that we recognize in His earthly life, including the less happy aspects. E.g. of rejection, denunciation, reproach.

Just like one who does not know how to be in the world.

These are priceless moments: times of rediscovery of cosmic and divine nearness, obviously purified of illusions of glory or social conformity.

Despite hostile environment, the inner situation of the disciple does not change: it is one of ‘permanent unity’ and is not interrupted, indeed it becomes more incisive and goal-directed.

Faith is penetrating Relationship: even today, no longer linked to feeling, ritual experience, or the signs of an established civitas christiana - but to the sharpness and incisiveness of personal adhesion.

Does He sometimes seem to vanish? Immediately after a doubt arises, everything is turned upside down.

Frankness in the harsh confrontation with established power or conformist ideas makes Him suddenly Present.

Alive and pungent, but astonishing.

It is true: when everything smacks of sadness and trial, in an instant the situation is reversed.

It is the moment of profound Happiness: of the ‘vision’ of the [invisible] Friend manifesting Himself in his Wisdom and concrete strength.

Incarnation that continues in the critical witnesses and in the assemblies that are configured as the luminous awakening of the Lord.

They face the same Passion of love and do not shy away from problems: they make them flourish as God's vital Newness.

[Thursday 6.a wk. in Easter, May 14, 2026]

«A very short time»: we are not in the waiting room

(Jn 16:16-20)

The human communion of the first disciples with the Master was suggestive, not exhaustive. It must now be renewed.

This takes place in the passage of Jesus from the world to the Father. Therefore in the journey and dialogue outside any circle, to which the apostles themselves are called.

The earthly separation from the Lord was dramatic. But even today we are impelled to live and grow in the 'outgoing Church'.

A shift that obliges the faithful in Christ to move from community brothers and sisters to an all-encompassing relationship with the human family.

The immediate perception would become unbreakable: Jesus must go and leave us alone so that we enter the Mystery, in search.

This is so that it is the Risen One and the totally Other that emerges in this detachment, in the mist and night of the reaffirmed Exodus, all real and all new.

For us too, certainty becomes a problem; stability knows shocks. 

We are not protégés - as in pagan religion, where the gods descended into difficulties and sided with their friends.

There is a detachment from representations of God, even from our common way of thinking of the Risen One.

He becomes an echo of the soul, guiding. And it becomes 'body' i.e. Church; as well as 'call' to the shattering of idols, to outgoing witness.

The evangelising activity of the genuine apostles goes hand in hand with the Lord, and reflects his events, his teaching, his type of confrontations.

In this way, the Living One becomes present and active in us, seamlessly.

Certainly, the approaching events take on their own configuration - each time particular.

But for Faith in the victory of life over death, we understand: everything is configured in the ways that allow us to express the deepest core of being, our feeling called.

Fontal, authentic joy.

As disciples, we unfold the Risen One in the history of each one: death resurrection manifestations... personal, unprecedented even in the sign of travails - for each believer.

In such a typically Johannine perspective (and practical action) the death-resurrection, the glorification at the right hand of the Father [Ascension] and the Gift of the Spirit become simultaneous.

Like a 'new order' of things [so-called Return to the End of Time].

In short, the integral event of the humanising Messiah allows the believer to feel in communion with God, and united to the Son - without any caesura or temporal delay.

The Faith-Vision catches the innovative and creative Spirit of the Father at work, to build the definitive world.

Therefore, the Judgement from the Cross is now, it will not take place after a nerve-wracking wait, in a distant moment.

Church Time thus does not become 'intermediate'. Nor can it justify dark and empty forms of spirituality.

The impact with the divine challenges and exposes. Yet it possesses its own, unique density.

The tribulations would be there - even very serious, full of embarrassment and unprecedented - but they would drag the consciences far beyond the bewilderment and the sudden unfulfilling.

In the experience of the envoys, placed face to face with the Mission, the enigmatic 'in a little while' would have nothing impenetrable about it.

We 'see' it in the Spirit, but not only in the heart.

It is for an Announcement together - without intimism. Free relationship with reality and the Living One, 'from' ourselves.

Jn reflects a question-and-answer catechesis addressed to those who could not understand the meaning of the Master's death and asked for explanations.

The masters of the ancient religion of consensus rejoiced at the disappearance of that subversive and heretic who instead of keeping quiet and making a career had been a thorn in the side of their prestige - and earnings - finally done away with and shamed.

By now a failure and rejection even by God.

Well, "a very short time" or "within a short time" are expressions that reaffirm and mark the continuity between the experience of physical closeness with Jesus and the 'vision' of the Risen One.

Transfigured and Lord-in-us, it is the same Master that we recognise in his earthly life, including the less happy aspects. E.g. of rejection, denunciation, rebuke.

Just like one who does not know how to be in the world.

These are priceless moments: times of rediscovery of cosmic and divine closeness, obviously purified of illusions of glory or social conformity.

Despite the hostile environment, the disciple's inner situation does not change: it is one of permanent unity and is not interrupted, indeed it becomes more incisive and goal-directed.

Faith is a penetrating relationship: even today, no longer linked to feeling, ritual experience, or the signs of a monopolistic and consolidated civitas christiana - but to the acuity and incisiveness of personal adhesion.

Does it sometimes seem to vanish? Immediately after a doubt arises, everything is turned upside down.The frankness in the harsh confrontation with established power or the ideas of devotion good for festivals and all seasons, makes Him suddenly Present.

Vivid and uncomfortable, but astonishing.

It is true: when everything smacks of sadness and trial, in an instant the situation is reversed.

It is the moment of profound Happiness: of the Vision of the invisible Friend manifesting Himself in His real Wisdom and strength.

Incarnation that continues in the critical witnesses and assemblies that take the form of the Lord's luminous Awakening.

They face the same Passion of love and do not shy away from problems: they make them flourish as the vital Newness of God.

To internalise and live the message:

Is your testimony diluted and sleepy, or is it intense, insightful, pungent?

1. Listening to the words of Psalm 126[125], one has the impression of seeing before one's eyes the event of the "new Exodus" that is sung of in the second part of the Book of Isaiah: the return of Israel from the Babylonian Exile to the land of her fathers after the edict of the Persian King Cyrus in 538 B.C. It was thus a repetition of the joyful experience of the first Exodus, when the Jewish people were released from slavery in Egypt.

This Psalm acquired special significance when it was sung on the days when Israel felt threatened and afraid because she was once again being put to the test. Effectively, the Psalm contains a prayer for the return of the captives of that time (cf. v. 4). Thus, it became a prayer of the People of God in their historical wanderings, fraught with dangers and trials but ever open to trust in God the Saviour and Liberator, the support of the weak and the oppressed.

2. The Psalm introduces us into an atmosphere of exultation: people were laughing, celebrating their new-found freedom, and songs of joy were on their lips (cf. vv. 1-2).
There is a twofold reaction to the restored freedom.

On the one hand, the heathen nations recognized the greatness of the God of Israel: "What marvels the Lord worked for them!" (v. 2). The salvation of the Chosen People becomes a clear proof of the effective and powerful existence of God, present and active in history.

On the other hand, it is the People of God who profess their faith in the Lord who saves: "What marvels the Lord worked for us!" (v. 3).

3. Our thoughts then turn to the past, relived with a shudder of fear and affliction. Let us focus our attention on the agricultural image used by the Psalmist: "Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap" (v. 5). Under the burden of work, their faces are sometimes lined with tears: the sowing is laborious, perhaps doomed to uselessness and failure. But with the coming of the abundant, joyful harvest, they discover that their suffering has borne fruit.

The great lesson on the mystery of life's fruitfulness that suffering can contain is condensed in this Psalm, just as Jesus said on the threshold of his passion and death: "Unless the grain of wheat falls to the earth and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat. But if it dies, it produces much fruit" (Jn 12: 24).

4. Thus, the horizon of the Psalm opens to the festive harvest, a symbol of joy born from the freedom, peace and prosperity that are fruits of the divine blessing. This prayer, then, is a song of hope to turn back to when one is immersed in moments of trial, fear, threats and inner oppression.

But it can also become a more general appeal to live one's days and make one's decisions in an atmosphere of faithfulness. In the end, perseverance in good, even if it is misunderstood and opposed, always reaches a landing place of light, fruitfulness and peace.

This is what St Paul reminded the Galatians: "If [a man] sows in the field of the flesh, he will reap a harvest of corruption; but if his seed-ground is the spirit, he will reap everlasting life. Let us not grow weary of doing good; if we do not relax our efforts, in due time we shall reap our harvest" (Gal 6: 8-9).

5. Let us end with a reflection on Psalm 126[125] by St Bede the Venerable (672/3-735), commenting on the words by which Jesus announced to his disciples the sorrow that lay in store for them, and at the same time the joy that would spring from their affliction (cf. Jn 16: 20).

Bede recalls that "Those who loved Christ were weeping and mourning when they saw him captured by his enemies, bound, carried away for judgment, condemned, scourged, mocked and lastly crucified, pierced by the spear and buried. Instead, those who loved the world rejoiced... when they condemned to a most ignominious death the One of whom the sight alone they could not tolerate. The disciples were overcome by grief at the death of the Lord, but once they had learned of his Resurrection, their sorrow changed to joy; then when they had seen the miracle of the Ascension, they praised and blessed the Lord, filled with even greater joy, as the Evangelist Luke testified (cf. Lk 24: 53).

"But the Lord's words can be applied to all the faithful who, through the tears and afflictions of this world, seek to arrive at eternal jubilation and rightly weep and grieve now, because they cannot yet see the One they love and because they know that while they are in the body they are far from the Homeland and the Kingdom, even if they are certain that they will reach it with their efforts and struggles. Their sorrow will change into joy when, after the struggle of this life, they receive the reward of eternal life, as the Psalm says: "Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap' (Homily on the Gospel, 2, 13: Collana dei Testi Patristici, XC, Rome, 1990, pp. 379-380).

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 17 August 2005]