Third Easter Sunday (year A) [19 April 2026] 

*First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:4, 22b–33)

The same Peter who, out of fear, had denied Jesus during his trial and who, after his death, had been holed up with the other disciples in a locked room, we find today, just fifty days later, standing and delivering an impromptu speech before thousands of people; and if Luke notes that he is standing, it is because the posture is symbolic: in a sense, Peter is awakening, coming back to life, rising up. Before going any further, it should be noted that up to this point Peter had not been a model of boldness, and yet it is precisely to him that Jesus now entrusts the boldest of missions: to continue the work of evangelisation, a mission that cost the Son of God himself his life, and the man who not long before had denied the Master will soon rejoice in being persecuted.  This entirely new strength, this boldness, Peter does not draw from himself, but is a gift from God. Let us return to that Pentecost morning in the year of Jesus’ death, when Jerusalem was teeming with people: they were pilgrims who had come from all over for the festival because, just like Peter and the other apostles of Jesus, they shared the hope of Israel, and it is on this hope that Peter relies to proclaim that the long-awaited Messiah has come and that we have had the privilege of knowing him. Peter emphasises in his speech the continuity of God’s work, which for him is a crucial point, and invokes the testimony of Psalm 15/16. His listeners are the least prepared to accept his words precisely because, having always awaited the Messiah, they have had time to form their own ideas about him—human ideas—and God cannot help but surprise our human ideas. One of the most unacceptable aspects of the mystery of Jesus for his contemporaries is his death on the cross: on Good Friday, Jesus, abandoned by all, truly seemed cursed by God himself, and so how could he be the Messiah? On Easter evening, the apostles realised that he was indeed the Messiah because they had witnessed his Resurrection.  Peter concludes by appealing to his listeners, telling them that if they have not been direct witnesses of the Resurrection, the only possible experience is that of seeing and hearing the twelve apostles transformed by the Holy Spirit

*Responsorial Psalm (15/16)

In the verses of Psalm 15/16, which are set before us today, some phrases seem to convey perfect happiness and everything appears so simple. The psalmist declares: ‘Lord, you are my God; I have made you my refuge; I have no good apart from you.’ In other verses, however, one senses the echo of danger, and Israel pleads, asking not to be abandoned to death nor to be allowed to see corruption. Here lies all the joy of Israel when the heart rejoices, the soul is in celebration because the Lord is ‘my portion and my cup, and I have no good apart from you’. Here Israel is likened to a Levite, to a priest who dwells ceaselessly in the temple of God and lives in intimacy with Him. The expression “Lord, my portion and my cup; upon You my lot depends” is an allusion to when the division of the land of Israel among the tribes of Jacob’s descendants was made by lot. At that time, the members of the tribe of Levi had not received a portion of land: their portion was the House of God, that is, service in the Temple, service to God, and their entire lives were consecrated to worship. They therefore had no territory, and their livelihood was secured by tithes and a portion of the harvests and meat offered in sacrifice. This also helps us understand the other verse of this psalm, which we do not hear today, where the psalmist says, ‘My portion makes me glad; I truly have the finest inheritance’. The Levites guarded the Temple day and night, and this is alluded to when the psalm notes, ‘even at night my heart instructs me’. In this psalm, one also senses the echo of danger, and the plea, ‘you cannot abandon me to death, nor let your holy one see corruption’, conveys the often-suffered tribulations of the chosen people.  The opening plea for help, ‘Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge’, and the repeated expressions of trust suggest a period when, indeed, trust was hard to come by, and this cry for help is at the same time a profession of faith, for it reflects the struggle against idolatry to remain faithful to the one God. In another verse of the psalm we read that all the idols of the land never cease to spread their harm, and people rush to follow them. This shows that Israel sometimes succumbed to idolatry but made a commitment not to fall back into it, and the statement ‘I have made you, my God, my only refuge’ conveys this resolve. We can then appreciate how eloquent the image of the Levite is, for it is a way of saying that by choosing to remain faithful to the true God, the people of Israel made the true choice that brings them into intimacy with God, and Israel’s trust inspires such striking phrases as ‘eternity of delights’ or ‘you cannot abandon me to death, nor let your friend see corruption’. One might wonder whether, when the psalm was written, there was already, albeit in a confused form, a first glimmer of faith in the Resurrection, even though we know that belief in individual resurrection appeared very late in Israel. Here it seems rather that the focus is on the people whose survival is in danger because of their succumbing to idolatry. But they are convinced that God will not abandon them, and that is why they affirm: ‘You cannot abandon me to death, nor let your friend see corruption’. Around the second century BC, when belief in the resurrection of each of us began to take hold, the phrase ‘you will not abandon me to death, nor let your friend see decay’ was understood in this sense, and later Christians reinterpreted this psalm in their own way, as we heard in the first reading. On the morning of Pentecost, Peter quoted this psalm to the Jewish pilgrims who had come in great numbers to Jerusalem for the feast, to show them that Jesus was truly the Messiah. He recalled that when David composed this psalm, without realising it, he was already announcing the Resurrection of the Messiah. Here we have an example of the first Christian preaching addressed to Jews, that is, how the first apostles reinterpreted Jewish tradition, discovering within it a new dimension: the proclamation of Jesus Christ. Over the centuries, this psalm has carried the prayer of Israel in its expectation of the Messiah, becoming enriched with new meanings; yet it was the first Christian generation that discovered and demonstrated that the Scriptures find their full meaning in Jesus Christ.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of the Apostle Peter (1:17–21)

In the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we read Peter’s speech on the morning of Pentecost, a model of the first Christian preaching addressed to Jews. Here, however, in Peter’s letter, we see a sermon addressed to pagans—non-Jews who had become Christians—and it is obvious that the discourse is not the same, for it is the ABC of communication to adapt one’s language to the audience. And even though we do not know exactly to whom the letter is addressed—since in the opening lines Peter merely states that he is writing to the elect living as strangers in the five provinces of present-day Turkey, Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia, what suggests they were not of Jewish origin is the phrase ‘you have been redeemed from the futile ways inherited from your fathers’. Peter, being Jewish himself, would not say such a thing to Jews, knowing all too well what hope runs through the Scriptures and how the whole life of his people is directed towards God. What strikes the eye in this simple passage is the striking number of allusions to the Bible, with expressions such as the blood of the Lamb without blemish or spot, the Father who judges impartially, and the fear of God; and if Peter uses them without explaining them, it is because his audience is familiar with them. But this is only possible if they are non-Jews. The most likely hypothesis is that many sympathisers gathered around the synagogues, and among them a significant number of those called ‘God-fearing’, who were so close to Judaism that they observed the Sabbath; they listened to all the synagogue readings on Saturday mornings, and consequently knew the Hebrew Scriptures well but had never gone so far as to ask for circumcision. It is thought that the early Christians were recruited mainly from among them, and it is worth returning to two expressions in Peter’s letter that may strike us as odd if we do not place them in their biblical context.  First of all, the expression ‘fear of God’ has a particular meaning precisely because God revealed himself to his people as Father. The fear of God, therefore, is not fear but a filial attitude made up of tenderness, respect, veneration and total trust, and Peter says that since you call upon God as your Father, you live in the fear of God by behaving as children. If you call upon as Father the One who judges everyone impartially according to their deeds, you therefore live in the fear of God. From Peter’s emphasis on the One who judges everyone impartially according to their deeds, we can surmise that some of these new Christians, coming from paganism, felt inferior to Christians of Jewish origin, and Peter therefore wishes to reassure them by saying, in essence: you are children just like the others; simply behave as children. The second phrase that might cause offence is: ‘you have been redeemed by the precious blood of Christ’. The risk is of seeing this as a horrendous bartering, without being able to say clearly between whom and whom. But reading Peter’s sentence in full – “not with perishable things such as silver or gold were you redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect” – two things become clear: firstly, this is not a matter of bartering; our liberation is free, and Peter takes care to say ‘not with gold or silver’, a way of saying it is free. Secondly, Peter does not place the emphasis where we do, because the blood of a lamb without blemish or defect is the blood that was shed every year at Passover and which marked Israel’s liberation from all forms of slavery.  This blood that was shed heralded God’s ongoing work to free his people and, for a reader familiar with the Old Testament, is a reference to the feast of freedom—a freedom on the journey towards the Promised Land. But now, Peter notes, definitive liberation has been accomplished in Jesus Christ. We have now entered   a new life better than the Promised Land, and this liberation consists precisely in calling upon God as Father. We can then better understand  the phrase: you have been redeemed, that is, freed from the superficial way of life inherited from your fathers; ‘superficial’ here means that it leads nowhere, as opposed to eternal life. Since the Son lived as a man in trust until the end, it is all of humanity that has rediscovered the path of a filial attitude. Ultimately, it is a matter of having rediscovered the path to the tree of life, to use the image from Genesis. Paul would say: you have passed from the slave’s attitude of fear and mistrust to the filial reverence proper to children.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (24:13–35)

Note the parallel between these two phrases: their eyes were prevented from recognising him, and then their eyes were opened; this means that the two disciples of Emmaus passed from the deepest discouragement to enthusiasm simply because their eyes were opened. Why were they opened? Because Jesus explained the Scriptures to them, and beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted in all the Scriptures what concerned him. This means that Jesus Christ is at the centre of God’s plan revealed in Scripture. The Old Testament must not, however, be reduced to a mere backdrop for the New, because to read the prophets as if they were announcing only the historical coming of Jesus Christ is to betray the Old Testament and strip it of all its historical depth, given that the Old Testament is the testimony of God’s long-suffering patience in revealing himself to his people and enabling them to live in his Covenant. The words of the prophets, for example, apply first and foremost to the era in which they were spoken, and we must not forget that reading Jesus Christ as the centre of human history and therefore also of Scripture is a Christian interpretation. The Jews have a different one, and we Jews and Christians agree in invoking God the Father of all mankind and in reading in the Old Testament the long wait for the Messiah, but let us not forget that recognising Jesus as the Messiah is not self-evident; it becomes so for those whose eyes are somehow opened and whose hearts consequently burn within them, just as those of the disciples of Emmaus did. It would be wonderful to know all the biblical texts that Jesus went through with the two disciples of Emmaus. We do know, however, that at the end of this biblical journey Jesus concludes by asking: ‘Was it not necessary for the Christ to suffer these things and enter into his glory?’ This phrase presents a real difficulty for us because it lends itself to two possible interpretations. The first possible interpretation is “it was necessary for the Christ to suffer in order to deserve to enter into his glory”, as if there were a requirement on the part of the Father; but this interpretation betrays the Scriptures because it presents Jesus’ relationship with the Father in terms of merit, which is not at all in keeping with the Old Testament revelation that Jesus developed. God is nothing but Love, Gift and Forgiveness, and with Him it is not a matter of balance, merit, arithmetic or calculation. It is also true that the New Testament often speaks of the fulfilment of the Scriptures, but not in this sense. There is, however, a second way of reading this phrase: ‘it was necessary for the Christ to suffer in order to enter into his glory’: the glory of God is his presence manifested to us. Now we know that God is Love. One could rephrase the sentence thus: ‘it was necessary for the Christ to suffer’ so that God’s love might be manifested and revealed. Jesus himself gave a foreshadowing of his death when he said to his disciples, ‘There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for those one loves’. It was therefore necessary for love to go that far, to the point of facing hatred, abandonment and death, so that we might discover that God’s love is the greatest love, so that we might discover how far God’s love goes—so far beyond our own way of loving and so unimaginable in the true sense of the word. It was necessary for it to be revealed to us, and for it to be revealed, it had to go that far. “It was necessary” does not therefore mean a requirement on God’s part, but a necessity for us; and to say that the events of Jesus’ life fulfil the Scriptures is to say that his entire life is a revelation in action of this love of the Father, whatever the circumstances, including persecution, hatred, condemnation and death. The Resurrection of Jesus authenticates this revelation: this love is stronger than death.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Thoughts on food

Several things prompted me to reflect on this.

One was a film broadcast by Rai 1 on 2 April 2026 (Maundy Thursday) on the subject of eating disorders. The film was called “Something Lilac.”

It is the story of a teenager who struggles with eating disorders, although the film focuses mainly on bulimia. The main eating disorders are anorexia and bulimia.

Another inspiration was seeing someone again at the centre who had suffered from these problems in the past and whom I had supported psychologically.

Finally, about a month ago, a lady I had known for years and who had long been troubled by these issues passed away. She wouldn’t listen to anyone; she ‘wasted away to the bone’.

And so, as with all my short articles, I ‘dredged up’ the theoretical knowledge I’d acquired over the years, combined with my observations of cases at work.

The issue of food is important for all living beings. If we do not eat, we do not live.

But here too, as in all situations in life, striking the right balance is not always easy.

The ideal approach is to eat without excesses that could cause metabolic disorders, and in such a way that our body functions well.

Sometimes, for various reasons, human beings alter their relationship with food. Think of the periods when people suffered from food shortages due to wars, epidemics, or other causes.

Cases of self-imposed fasting are also described in the Bible, but it was around 1600 that cases of significant weight loss due to diet began to be observed.

In contrast to the time of the ancient Romans, when they would indulge in huge feasts followed by self-induced vomiting – if I recall correctly, they would tickle their palates with a feather to induce vomiting and then start eating again.

The history of eating disorders is not a modern phenomenon, but has its roots in distant times.

In the Middle Ages, fasting was often associated with demonic possession, or conversely with mystical behaviour.

‘Mystics’ would fast to purify the body, draw as close as possible to God, and sometimes to withdraw from earthly life. Unlike the disorder seen today, the motivation was not beauty, but the aspiration to holiness.

Nowadays, distorted relationships with food are recognised as complex disorders, influenced by cultural and psychological factors.                                  

These are serious disorders, often interlinked, and requiring treatment by various specialists.  In short, anorexia involves a profound fear of gaining weight, stemming from a distorted perception of one’s own body.

Bulimia involves overeating followed by vomiting or self-induced purging – to prevent weight gain.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

Such issues are more prevalent in industrialised cultures, where there is a higher standard of living and the idea of being attractive is associated with thinness.

Through the media, the idea of physical perfection has also reached less developed cultures, fostering a desire for physical attractiveness; which would not be a bad thing, were it not for the harm it causes to the body.

Nor should we overlook the influence of cultural role models; such as extremely thin models who trigger a desire to be like them – sometimes at any cost.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             And here I recall that years ago, there was a proposal to make figures such as the Barbie doll ‘put on weight’, to correct the image she unconsciously conveyed. 

Until recently, it was mostly young people and women who were affected by such eating disorders. Lately, however, the issue has also come to affect men.

In my professional practice, I have encountered such issues. I have carried out various psychodiagnostic assessments where the main problems were eating disorders, even in very young individuals. 

These were mostly female subjects, but I have also encountered a few male adolescents.

In psychotherapeutic treatment, working alongside other professionals, I have dealt with a few cases of anorexia in young girls, whilst the few cases of bulimia I have encountered were in older women.

This is in line with the theoretical principles that situate anorexia in early adolescence and bulimia in late adolescence or early adulthood.

I recall that the thin girls were always restless, worried and tormented, whilst the more ‘full-figured’ women were cheerful, sometimes even friendly. One of them was even able to joke about her considerable weight. 

The progression of these conditions can vary; some are severe and can compromise general health – and there is a risk of mortality. 

People with anorexia generally tend to be somewhat more stubborn; they may refuse not only food but also new experiences, and adopt a closed-off attitude; people with bulimia mainly exhibit ‘emotional volatility’, moments of anger and emptiness that they unconsciously try to fill with food.

Emotionally, these people may feel anxious, may be impulsive, and may experience shame. Anorexics are ashamed of their bodies, which they always perceive as enormous; bulimics are distressed by their lack of control, which sometimes extends beyond eating habits.

The characteristics of these issues are kept hidden for a long time. In doing so, they make it difficult to form a genuine relationship with others, with sufferers usually appearing more immature and superficial.

These people are united  in an exaggerated way by a hunger for care and affection. They have an immense fear of being abandoned, and that other people might stop loving them.

But it is a question of  ‘how strong this feeling is’, because everyone  wants to be loved; they want to have a healthy relationship based on trust and mutual respect.

Intellectually, those with eating disorders may exhibit rigid thinking and a distorted perception of their body’s condition; in less severe cases, there remains a dissatisfaction with their physical appearance or certain parts of it.

In more severe cases, body image and how it is experienced often impairs their ability to assess reality.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi  Psychologist – Psychotherapist

(Lk 24:13-35)

After first persecutions (64), the bloody civil war in Rome (68-69) and the destruction of Jerusalem’s Temple (70), the empire rebels tended to decrease - together with the second generation Christians, direct witnesses of the Apostolic teaching.

In this reality, completely new and threatened by the danger of routine, perhaps more than a dozen years after the fall of Masada (73), Lk draws up a Gospel for converted Hellenists - but educated to the ideal of a ‘Greek man’.

Its purpose was to put a stop to defections, encourage new faithful, allow those who were culturally distant to have a living experience of the Lord.

The Risen One has a Life that is no longer subject to the senses, because Full.

Now it is the community that manifests Him Present [or - unfortunately - useless and absent].

Conditioned by a false vision inoculated by bad teachers and pagan values, the disciples still felt bewildered in the face of “failure”.

The expectations of religion, of philosophies, of life in the empire, made them gloomy and disoriented during the tests of Faith.

Everyone was waiting for the «divine man»: ruler, possessor, revered, avenger, titled and super-affirmed. Able to drag his associates to the same “fortune”.

Lk overturns the banal perspective, because within each of us there is an innate wisdom, sometimes suffocated by external ideas, but different.

Only another intelligence of the Holy Scriptures that still resound full of critical prophecy - warms our hearts and makes us recognizable in Christ.

Wisdom that is combined with the quality of life experienced in a multifaceted and indigent fraternity, but which does not abandon anyone.

In fact, in the authentic church, the synergy of differences and opposite sides configures a ‘new covenant’; opens the eyes to all, intensely manifesting the Son.

And the Risen One does not cling to the latest arrivals in a paternalistic way (vv.28.31) but calls with confidence to reinterpret Him in love, without borders and identified roles.

His Presence in spirit and deed allows anyone a coined-broken life caliber without prior conditions of completion.

Hence the Return (v.33) and personal Announcement (v.35), instead of indifference or flight.

The passage from Lk is one of the most profound testimonies of the Passover of Jesus.

The tragedy of the Cross frightens, so does failure. But we do not frankly meet the Lord as an executioner, or in the fervor of a victorious war.

Christ is not a colonel. Liberator yes.

The new dreamed order will not be artificial, procedural, external; nor achieved with military triumph: it would disown Him.

We meet the Risen One outside the tomb, we grasp Him on a journey and in the authentic meaning of the «living Scriptures»; in the «Bread breaking» that illuminates the sense of ecclesial life.

We personally «see» the ‘Son raised’, building up the new community of disciples that blossom because of the reverses - so that the sisters and brothers can also meet with Easter.

Apostles not lost in history.

In their «incessant beginning» there is a ‘discovery’ and something special, abnormal, irrepressible; that lays continuous foundations.

To internalize and live the message:

When have you experienced a Jesus who gently approaches and takes your step? Is the Cross a catastrophe for you?

[3rd Easter Sunday (year A), April 19, 2026]

Lk 24:13-35 (13-48)

The disciples question, they are confused; they bounce anxieties and accusations off each other, disillusioned and frustrated - but what seems to concern them most is not so much the mocking death of the Master, but (paradoxically) his very divine condition.

What they fear is precisely the crumbling of their hopes for glory.

They are simply afraid of not feeling supported by someone who has achieved notoriety, in order to obtain the longed-for dominance.

What disappoints them is precisely that Jesus could be the Risen One: that is, the one who has grasped and incorporated into himself taken up by the Father into his own full Life because he recognised himself in the humble Son.

Enthroned at the right hand of the heavenly throne, because he is true, and a servant of others.

Such apostles have their eyes fixed on dreams of principality, wealth, and supremacy.

On this basis, it is impossible to recognise the Presence of Christ - who wants us to stay in the present and see the future.

Just as before, they are heading to Emmaus, a place of ancient nationalist military victories.

The very name Cleopas was an abbreviation of Cleopas, which means 'of the illustrious, prestigious father'.

The disciples are still filled with the ambition for success: this is their god.

It is still triumph - not authenticity and self-sacrifice to the point of death - that would change the world.

For these followers, the son of the carpenter Galileo was still the Nazarene - which meant subversive, rebellious: one of the many messiahs who were supposed to take revenge on Roman oppression and seize power.

Quietly, sick with ambition, they return to considering as their "authority" (v. 20) the very bandits disguised as men of God who had killed the Master.

So Jesus must once again take our place and insist on interpreting the Scriptures correctly.

From them it emerges that the concrete good of real, multifaceted women and men, who even seem contradictory, is a non-negotiable principle.

The Greek text of Luke says that Jesus 'does hermeneutics' (v. 27).

In short: the passages of the Holy Scriptures, from Moses to the Prophets and beyond, should not be recounted and perceived by ear, but interpreted.

They are teachings, not stories or narratives of anecdotes.

We too, in love with our ideas, find it difficult to engage in the work of digging up stories of failure in order to extract pearls of wisdom from them.

But conflicts are valuable mirrors of internal struggles.

The Word of God, untamed by clichés, helps us to perceive events and the world, even that of the soul, in the authenticity of providential signs.

They are there for a journey of evolution, where some of the most precious surprises await us.

This is not in order to become cunning or strong, nor even good in the usual sense.

Even negative events and emotions happen in order to develop the ability to look within and respond to the inner call.

Vocation-character, in bad times: wonders for great joy, like a sun inside, fiery and luminous (without judgement).

A protagonist who brings out unexpected qualities; a worker who tills the soil and waits.

By changing our way of perceiving, the new energy of the Word takes our considerations to a different dimension.

Confusions are no longer looked at to be resolved, but to understand their meaning.

We learn to intuit that our disturbances, sufferings and problems are often like clothes - even coats that we willingly do not discard.

Throw away these external rags, and we will intuit in the same disappointments a Presence that has come to visit us.

An alternative consciousness that wants to live and flow within us.

It will bring a Gift that brings another Relationship, to drive away banality and its thousand forms of slavery.

Over time, it will have the strength to settle within us.

And when personal anxieties, conditioned intentions and conformist expectations lead us into a territory where everything enters into another game, into a completely different reality that Voice will increasingly become the fertiliser and substrate of our ability to correspond, to grow and to depart; to detach ourselves from common ideas and find new positions.

A new kingdom, another founding memory; unprecedented calls, different hopes, convictions, trusts.

Little by little, we realise: it is in the same sense as the dramatic story of the authentic Son that our life as saved people passes.

Thus, instead of always looking back or only forward, we begin to perceive the prophetic; and we bring it to consciousness.

While the disciples of the glorious 'messiah' continue to be directed to the old 'village' - a place of narrow-mindedness, misunderstanding, even hostility to God's Call - the Risen One goes further.

Then he enters, but not into the village [the common village of dogmas, of even glossy ways, or of traditions, of conformism] because he is already Present. And in any case, he is not a Shepherd who loses his flock.

In filigree, we grasp the rhythm of our worship: entrance, homily, Eucharistic liturgy, final choir, missionary announcement... whose essential meaning is the proposal: 'to break life'.

It is sharing that makes the being of Jesus perceptible - in the Church that becomes wisdom and fraternal nourishment for the completeness of all.

'This is my Body' means 'This is Me'.

God expresses himself in a gesture, the breaking of bread - not in a sacred object.

It alludes to the Community that transcends differences and comes together to become shared Food for the benefit of others.

Such is the essential, truly sacred Call.

No preventive sterilisation: only the all-encompassing experience makes the divine Presence perceptible.

'He made himself invisible' because the Risen One has a life that is not subject to the banal perception of the ordinary senses.

But He comes to the Church, which freely offers itself for the life of the voiceless, the distant, the different; not for good manners and bad habits.

'Take and eat': make my story your own, the choice of conviviality of differences and contrasting sides. These convey dignity to any path.

The news is too good: the barley harvest is abandoned [end of the first ten days of April: in Palestine it was the right time to start harvesting] and they set off immediately to proclaim the Good News.

The affairs of the earth are put aside, so that they are not the only ones to go well - becoming explicit heralds, advocates and sustenance for those who seek life.

Broken: different Perfection

After the first persecutions (64), the bloody civil war in Rome (68-69) and the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem (70), the rebels of the empire tended to diminish - along with the second generation of Christians, direct witnesses of the Apostolic teaching.

In this completely new reality, threatened by the danger of routine, perhaps more than a dozen years after the fall of Masada (73), Luke wrote a Gospel for Hellenistic converts - but educated in the ideal of the Greek man.

His aim was to stem the tide of defections, encourage new believers, and allow those who were culturally distant to have a living experience of the Lord.

The Risen One no longer has a life subject to the senses, because it is full. Now it is the community that manifests his presence [or - unfortunately - his uselessness and absence].

Conditioned by a false view instilled by bad teachers and pagan values, the disciples still felt bewildered in the face of failure.

The expectations of religion, philosophies, and life in the empire made them gloomy and lost during the trials of faith.

Everyone was waiting for the divine man: a ruler, a landowner, revered, avenging, titled and super-successful. Capable of leading his people to the same fortune.

Luke overturns the banal perspective, because within each of us there is an innate wisdom, sometimes suffocated by external ideas, but different.

Only a different understanding of the sacred Scriptures, which still resonate with critical prophecy, warms the heart and makes everyone recognisable in Christ.

Wisdom that goes hand in hand with the quality of life experienced in a multifaceted and yet destitute fraternity, but one that abandons no one.

In the authentic church, in fact, the synergy of differences or different and shadowed sides configures a New Covenant; it opens the eyes of all, intensely manifesting the Son.

And the Risen One does not cling to the newcomers in a paternalistic way (vv. 28.31) but calls with confidence to reinterpret him in love, without boundaries and identified roles.

His Presence in spirit and actions allows anyone a calibre of life that is minted and broken without prior conditions of completeness.

Hence the return (v. 33) and the personal proclamation (v. 35), instead of indifference or flight.

The passage from Luke is one of the most profound testimonies of Jesus' Easter.

The tragedy of the Cross still frightens us, as does failure.

But we do not encounter the Lord frankly as an avenger, or in the fervour of a 'victorious' holy war.

Christ is not a leader. He is a liberator, yes, but not of an idea or of a single chosen people.

In short, the new order he dreamed of will not be artificial, procedural, foreign; nor will it be achieved through military triumph: he would disown it.

We encounter the Risen One outside the tomb.

We encounter Jesus on a journey, and in the authentic sense of the 'living scriptures'; in the breaking of bread that illuminates coexistence and the richer meaning of ecclesial life.

We see personally the Son exalted, building the new community of disciples who are not lost in history - indeed, they flourish because of setbacks.

Ensuring that our brothers and sisters can also encounter Easter.

In their incessant beginning, there is a discovery and something special, abnormal, disruptive; which lays continuous foundations.

To internalise and live the message:

When have you experienced a Jesus who gently approaches and takes your pace? Is the Cross a catastrophe for you?

Which side of your personality captures that of the Eucharistic Christ and in between? Perhaps something one-sided, or obvious?

What distracts you from the blindness of the present Life?

It does not create a hierarchy: in the middle and wounded, or a ghost

(Lk 24:35-48)

We do not recognise a person by their hands and feet (v. 39).

The Risen One has a life that escapes the perception of the senses, yet the Resurrection does not annul the person, but rather expands them.

The identity and being that distinguishes him is of another nature, but the heart is the same, characterising. Love to the end: action [hands] and journey [feet] without reserve, which non-faith marginalises, humiliates, kills.

Christ cannot be understood outside the experience of sharing, witness, Mission - the point of the text - which extends to all men.

Evangelisation starting from direct heralds and enthusiastic town criers. Centred on the core of the Proclamation, which moves everything and gives access (vv.35-).

Finally, thanks to the intelligence of the Scriptures, which brings us out of clichés and vague interpretative automatisms.

In specific listening and in forgiveness that makes us participants; in commitment that risks, walks, and speaks.

The Creator's human project took on a pedagogical configuration in the Law. It was taken up, actualised, and purified by the prophets, and sung in the psalms (v. 44) .

But the conversion proposed by Christ is not a return to religiosity, but 'a change [of mind] in remission' (v. 47).

The change of convictions and mentality is 'for the forgiveness of sins': that is, in overcoming the sense of inadequacy preached by the manipulative religious centre.

Its formal and empty directives prevent women and men from corresponding to their roots, character, vocation - to joy, to the fullness of personal fulfilment, to the great Desire that pulsates within each one.

In Jesus, the history of salvation takes on and redeems the totality of humanity: it becomes the privileged place of the true seal of the eternal Covenant between the Father and his children. Only in Him does our life go in the right direction.

This awareness was at the heart of all the early liturgical signs, which in words and gestures expressed the attitude of gratuitousness and welcome that animated belief.

In this way, even the multifaceted encounter; and the risk of the mission of Peace-Shalôm (v. 36): the presence of the Messiah himself, actualised in the Spirit.

The Lord's Passover gave meaning to the people's past and was the foundation of freedom in love, in coexistence - for personal and ecclesial work.

The beginning of new configurations. 'Done' par excellence [in this sense, Luke in vv. 41-43 insists on the reality of the resurrection].

Here is the beginning, source and culmination of authentic history - in the very figure of the Eucharist as the Table of the 'Fish' [acrostic, in Greek, of the divine condition of the Son of Man].

In short, we are eyewitnesses, not gullible or victims of collective hallucinations.

In the Risen One, we do not see projections of anxieties and frustrations converging; we do not seek him for compensation.

In the early years after the Master's death, some disciples effectively defended themselves against sceptics by recounting apparitions.

The most convincing and genuine manifestation of the Living One was in fact the wisdom and quality of life expressed by the early communities.

Those who 'see and touch' are those disciples who become so involved that their soul movements, their exodus to the peripheries, and their passionate gestures finally coincide with the Master's own wounds of love: "Touch me and see" (v. 39).

This points to an event and story of admirable light for all, which becomes extended history, from brother to brother.

A weighty testimony of the divine (v. 48) - in the Yes of being, even if affected or destroyed by the archaic sacred society of the outside world.

In the early days, believers - here and there - managed to do so thanks to the help of fraternities in which the Person of the authentic Messiah manifested himself persuasively, because he was 'in the midst' (v. 36).

Not 'above' or 'in front' - nor with ethics and dogmas.

Therefore, in the assemblies, there should never have been anyone (for life) who claimed to represent Him and had a title and a prominent position, while others were destined to be in the background or subordinate (equally permanent).

Everyone should have been equidistant from God: no one privileged, no one installed.

No one leading the ranks - or closer to the Lord, while others were far away.

The Lord revealed Himself as Living in conviviality - the key word, the pinnacle of the entire Bible.

Sharing also in the summary, which found the ways of intimacy and sensitive, personal confidence: 'They gave him a portion' (v. 42).

The concrete and global perspective of the Cross as the source of Life was a transmutation of the sense of haughty and distant 'glory'.

Whether naturally talented or not, those who represented the Risen One were always within reach: no chosen ones - no one sent to the rear.

Even the first community tasks reflected the character of a Jesus who was shareable, spontaneous, accessible to anyone - at the centre and in a position of reciprocity.

No one born perfect, predestined, at the top.

For this reason, the Announcement had to begin in the Holy City (v. 47), configured to the opposite of life - compromised, inert, secretive; pyramidal, co-opted, and murderer of prophets.

That of the Eternal City... remained the first of the 'pagan peoples' [v. 47 Greek text] to be evangelised!

Only a strong identity of compelling Faith, Hope Elsewhere and real Communion could convert it from sin and establish a code for understanding the Scriptures.

And not make Christ a ghost (v. 37).

In the early communities, listening to the personal and common inner world was particularly emphasised, because the direction proposed by the Master seemed completely counterintuitive.

Despite the chaos of external certainties, the transition from fear to Freedom came from a tolerant perception - starting from visceral experiences.

It was precisely the bottlenecks that accentuated change and internalisation, and tore the disciples away from their habit of creating conformist harmonies.

People then relied more willingly on the paths of the soul. Thus encountering one's own deep nature - a new axis of life, starting from the roots.

The search for a new compass for one's own paths, the loss of predictable references, and social discomfort brought one into contact with oneself and others in an authentic way.

Feeling anxiety, discomfort, and wounds allowed them to recognise their Calling - even though the external way in which they saw and faced normal or spiritual existence suited them.

Having to move away from their habits, they no longer shied away from the precious revelation: the primordial and humanising intimacy deposited in the fraternal communion of the new crucified Way.

Educated by the paradox of hardship, the uncertain apostles gradually became seekers of a trace, of a more pertinent route; pilgrims of unexpected codes.

'Witnesses' (v. 48): fathers and mothers of a new humanity.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you experience the identity of the Crucified and Risen One? And his Glory? What makes your heart burn, and Who do you radiate?

Are you someone who puts himself at the head of the group? Or, 'with Jesus in the midst', do you contribute to the happiness of all?

Real Presence

Transformed, he does not erase the signs of the crucifixion

Today [...] we encounter – in the Gospel according to Luke – the risen Jesus who appears in the midst of his disciples (cf. Lk 24:36), who, incredulous and afraid, think they are seeing a ghost (cf. Lk 24:37). Romano Guardini writes: "The Lord is changed. He no longer lives as before. His existence... is not comprehensible. Yet it is corporeal, it encompasses... his entire life, his destiny, his passion and his death. Everything is reality. It may be changed, but it is still tangible reality" (Il Signore. Meditazioni sulla persona e la vita di N.S. Gesù Cristo [The Lord: Meditations on the Person and Life of Our Lord Jesus Christ], Milan 1949, 433). Since the resurrection does not erase the signs of the crucifixion, Jesus shows the Apostles his hands and feet. And to convince them, he even asks for something to eat. So the disciples "offered him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in front of them" (Lk 24:42-43). St Gregory the Great comments that "the fish broiled on the fire signifies nothing other than the passion of Jesus, Mediator between God and men. For he deigned to hide himself in the waters of the human race, accepted to be caught in the snare of our death, and was as if placed in the fire because of the sufferings he endured at the time of his passion" (Hom. in Evang. XXIV, 5: CCL 141, Turnhout 1999, 201).

Thanks to these very realistic signs, the disciples overcome their initial doubt and open themselves to the gift of faith; and this faith allows them to understand the things written about Christ 'in the Law of Moses, in the Prophets and in the Psalms' (Lk 24:44). We read, in fact, that Jesus 'opened their minds to understand the Scriptures and said to them, " Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be preached in his name to all nations, for you are witnesses of these things' (Lk 24:45-48). The Saviour assures us of his real presence among us, through the Word and the Eucharist. Just as the disciples of Emmaus recognised Jesus in the breaking of bread (cf. Lk 24:35), so too do we encounter the Lord in the Eucharistic celebration. In this regard, St Thomas Aquinas explains that "it is necessary to recognise, according to Catholic faith, that the whole Christ is present in this Sacrament... because the divinity never left the body that he assumed" (S.Th. III, q. 76, a. 1).

[Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli, 22 April 2012]

As with a living

1. May the light of your face shine upon us, Lord! (cf. Ps 4:7)

With these words, the Church prays in today's liturgy. She asks for divine light. She asks for the gift of knowing the Truth. She asks for faith.

Faith is the knowledge of the Truth, which comes from the testimony of God himself.

At the heart of our faith is the resurrection of Christ, through which God himself bore witness to the Crucified One. The testimony of the Living God confirmed in the resurrection the truth of the Gospel that Jesus of Nazareth proclaimed. It confirmed the truth of all his works and all his words. It confirmed the truth of his mission. The resurrection gave the definitive and most complete expression of that messianic power that was in Jesus Christ. Truly, he is the one sent by God. And divine is the word that comes from his lips.

When, today, on the third Sunday of Easter, we invoke: "Let the light of your face shine upon us, Lord" (cf. Ps 4:7), we ask that through the resurrection of Christ our faith may be renewed, illuminating the paths of our lives and directing them towards the Living God.

2. At the same time, today's Sunday liturgy shows us how this faith was built – and continues to be built – which, being a true gift from God, has at the same time its human dimension and form.

The resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth is the main source of this light, from which the knowledge of the Truth revealed by God develops in us. The knowledge and acceptance of it as divine truth.

To form the human dimension of faith, Christ himself chose witnesses to the resurrection from among men. These witnesses were to become those who, from the beginning, were bound to him as disciples, among whom he alone chose the Twelve, making them his apostles.

Jesus of Nazareth also appeared alive after his resurrection to them, who were witnesses of his death on the cross. He spoke with them and in various ways convinced them of his identity, of the reality of his human body.

"Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet: it is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see I have" (Lk 24:38-39).

He spoke to them in this way when "they were amazed and frightened, thinking they were seeing a ghost" (Lk 24:37).

"But because of their great joy and amazement, they still did not believe it and were astonished. He said to them, 'Do you have anything here to eat?' They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in front of them" (Lk 24:41-43).

Thus was formed the group of witnesses to the resurrection. They were the men who personally knew Christ, heard his words, saw his works, experienced his death on the cross and, afterwards, saw him alive and conversed with him as with a living person after the resurrection.

3. When these men, the apostles and disciples of the Lord, after receiving the Holy Spirit, began to speak publicly about Christ, when they began to proclaim him to men (first in Jerusalem), they first of all referred to the commonly known facts.

'You handed him over and denied him before Pilate, when he had decided to release him,' Peter said to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, 'but you denied the Holy and Righteous One and asked for a murderer to be granted to you' (i.e. Barabbas)! (Acts 3:13-14).

From the events surrounding Christ's death, the speaker moves on to the Resurrection: "... you killed the author of life. But God raised him from the dead, and we are witnesses to this" (Acts 3:15).

Peter speaks alone, but at the same time he speaks on behalf of the entire apostolic college: "we are witnesses" (Acts 3:15). And he adds: "Now, brothers, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did your leaders" (Acts 3:17).

4. From the description of events, from the testimony of the Resurrection, the apostle moves on to prophetic exegesis.

Christ himself had prepared his disciples for this exegesis of death and Resurrection.

We have proof of this in the encounter described in today's Gospel (according to Luke). The Risen One says to his disciples: "These are the words I spoke to you while I was still with you: everything written about me in the Law of Moses, the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled" (Lk 24:44).

". And he said, 'Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be preached in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things' (Lk 24:46-48).

And the evangelist adds: “Then he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures” (Lk 24:45).

From Peter’s speech in the Acts of the Apostles, which we read in today’s liturgy, we can see how effective this “opening of their minds” was.

After presenting the events connected with the death and resurrection of Christ, Peter continues: “But God has thus fulfilled what he had foretold through the mouth of all the prophets, that his Christ would die. Repent, then, and change your ways, so that your sins may be blotted out...” (Acts 3:18-20).

In these words of the apostle, we find a clear echo of Christ's words: of the enlightenment that the disciples experienced in their encounter with the Risen Lord.

Thus, the faith of the first generation of confessors of Christ, the generation of the apostles' disciples, was built up. It sprang directly from the testimony of eyewitnesses of the Cross and the Resurrection.

5. What does it mean to be a Christian?

It means continuing to accept the testimony of the Apostles, the eyewitnesses. It means believing with the same faith that was born in them from the works and words of the Risen Lord.

The Apostle John writes (this is the second reading of today's liturgy): 'By this we know that we have known him (that is, Christ) if we keep his commandments. Whoever says, 'I know him,' but does not keep his commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him; but whoever keeps his word, in him the love of God is truly perfect" (1 Jn 2:3-5).

The apostle speaks of living faith. Faith is alive through the works that are in accordance with it. These are the works of charity. Faith is alive through the love of God. Love is expressed in the observance of the commandments. There can be no contradiction between knowledge ("I know him") and the action of a confessor of Christ. Only those who complete their faith with works remain in the truth.

Thus, the apostle John addresses the recipients of his first letter with the affectionate word 'little children' and invites them 'not to sin' (cf. 1 Jn 2:1). At the same time, however, he writes: 'But if anyone has sinned, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world" (1 Jn 2:1f).

John, apostle and evangelist, proclaims in the words of his letter, written towards the end of the first century, the same truth that Peter proclaimed shortly after the Lord's ascension. This is the truth about conversion and the forgiveness of sins through the power of Christ's death and resurrection.

6. What does it mean to be a Christian?

To be a Christian – today as then, in the first generation of confessors of Christ – means to continue to accept the testimony of the apostles, eyewitnesses. It means believing with the same faith that was born in them from the works and words of Christ, confirmed by his death and resurrection.

We too, belonging to the present generation of confessors of Christ, must ask to have the same experience as the two disciples of Emmaus: "Lord Jesus, make us understand the Scriptures; may our hearts burn within us when you speak to us" (cf. Lk 24:32).

May our hearts burn within us! For faith cannot be merely a cold calculation of the intellect. It must be enlivened by love. It lives through works in which the truth revealed by God is expressed as the inner truth of man.

Then we too – even if we have not been eyewitnesses of the works and words, of the death and resurrection – inherit the testimony of the Apostles. And we ourselves also become witnesses of Christ.

To be a Christian is also to be a witness of Christ.

7. Then faith – living faith – is formed as a dialogue between the Living God and living man; we find some expressions of this dialogue in today's liturgical psalm: 'When I call upon you, answer me, O God, my righteousness: you have delivered me from distress; have mercy on me, hear my prayer' (Ps 4:2). '... The Lord hears me when I call to him. / Tremble and do not sin; / reflect on your bed and be still. / Offer sacrifices of righteousness / and trust in the Lord. / Many say, 'Who will show us any good?' / Let the light of your face shine upon us, O Lord. / You have put more joy in my heart / than when their grain and wine abound. / I lie down in peace and sleep comes at once: / you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety" (Ps 4:4-9).

And the psalmist himself adds: "Know that the Lord does wonders for his faithful ones" (Ps 4:4).

[Pope John Paul II, homily to Sts. Marcellinus and Peter, 25 April 1982]

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

The Gospel of this Sunday - the Third of Easter - is the famous account of the disciples of Emmaus (cf. Lk 24: 13-35). It tells the tale of two followers of Christ who, on the day after the Sabbath or the third day after his death, were leaving Jerusalem sad and dejected, bound for a village that was not far off called, precisely, Emmaus. They were joined on their way by the Risen Jesus but did not recognize him. Realizing that they were downhearted, he explained, drawing on the Scriptures, that the Messiah had to suffer and die in order to enter into his glory. Then entering the house with them, he sat down to eat, blessed the bread and broke it; and at that instant they recognized him but he vanished from their sight, leaving them marvelling before that broken bread, a new sign of his presence. And they both immediately headed back to Jerusalem to tell the other disciples of the event. 

The locality of Emmaus has not been identified with certainty. There are various hypotheses and this one is not without an evocativeness of its own for it allows us to think that Emmaus actually represents every place: the road that leads there is the road every Christian, every person, takes. The Risen Jesus makes himself our travelling companion as we go on our way, to rekindle the warmth of faith and hope in our hearts and to break the bread of eternal life. In the disciples' conversation with the unknown wayfarer the words the evangelist Luke puts in the mouth of one of them are striking: "We had hoped..." (Lk 24: 21). This verb in the past tense tells all: we believed, we followed, we hoped..., but now everything is over. Even Jesus of Nazareth, who had shown himself in his words and actions to be a powerful prophet, has failed, and we are left disappointed. This drama of the disciples of Emmaus appears like a reflection of the situation of many Christians of our time: it seems that the hope of faith has failed. Faith itself enters a crisis because of negative experiences that make us feel abandoned and betrayed even by the Lord. But this road to Emmaus on which we walk can become the way of a purification and maturation of our belief in God. Also today we can enter into dialogue with Jesus, listening to his Word. Today too he breaks bread for us and gives himself as our Bread. And so the meeting with the Risen Christ that is possible even today gives us a deeper and more authentic faith tempered, so to speak, by the fire of the Paschal Event; a faith that is robust because it is nourished not by human ideas but by the Word of God and by his Real Presence in the Eucharist. 

This marvellous Gospel text already contains the structure of Holy Mass: in the first part, listening to the Word through the Sacred Scriptures; in the second part, the Eucharistic liturgy and communion with Christ present in the Sacrament of his Body and his Blood. In nourishing herself at this two-fold table, the Church is constantly built up and renewed from day to day in faith, hope and charity. Through the intercession of Mary Most Holy, let us pray that in reliving the experience of the disciples of Emmaus every Christian and every community may rediscover the grace of the transforming encounter with the Risen Lord.

[Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli, 6 April 2008]

2. Dear brothers and sisters! We too, at this hour, pray to the Lord: “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is drawing to a close” (Lk 24:29). May this invitation that the disciples of Emmaus address to the Lord guide our festive liturgy today; indeed, the Gospel for this Third Sunday of Easter leads us along the road to Emmaus. This place holds great significance within the context of the Easter events: it is a place of encounter with Christ, a place of the appearance of the Risen Lord.

In the interpretation of the Old Testament peoples, the Easter feast recalls the “passage” of the Lord, the exodus of the Israelites from the “house of bondage” in Egypt on their way to the Promised Land. God himself guides, liberates and saves his people. At the beginning of this exodus there was the sign of the lamb: its blood would mark the houses of the Israelites and save their inhabitants from the punishment of death; its flesh sustained the Israelites at the Last Supper before their departure.

Inspired by this faith of their people, the two disciples of Emmaus had taken part in the Jewish Passover feast in Jerusalem, and had also witnessed the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. When, on their way back, the Lord appeared to them without their recognising him immediately, he explained to them how the Passover feast of the New Covenant had been foretold in the events of the Old Testament; specifically, in the exodus from slavery to freedom. This exodus is now fulfilled in the passage from death to life, from sin to friendship with God. And this takes place once again with the help of a lamb: the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, Jesus Christ, our Redeemer. Moses and the prophets, indeed the ‘whole of Scripture’, already speak of him and his destiny. This is why the risen Lord could rightly ask: “Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” (Lk 24:25ff.).

3. Indeed, many statements in the Old Testament foretell the events of the Last Supper and Golgotha. These prophecies, however, would not have been fulfilled if the events of Easter had not taken place at the time and in the manner predetermined by God in Jerusalem. And despite all this, Jesus’ disciples did not immediately recognise the true meaning and deepest truth of this dramatic and moving event, which they experienced with their Master during the Jewish Passover. They found it difficult to ‘believe the words of the prophets’ (Lk 24:25ff.). This truth was so hard for them to recognise, as they were accustomed to a different understanding of the Holy Scriptures. Why should the Messiah have to suffer, be condemned and die on the cross, be despised and mocked as an outcast? Thus, at first, they are as if blinded, discouraged and sad, as if paralysed.

For human beings, it is and will always remain incomprehensible why the path to salvation must pass through suffering. This is why the encounter on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus is so significant; not only in relation to the events of Easter at that time, but forever, for all time – including for us. On this road, the disciples learnt from Jesus a new way of reading the Holy Scriptures and of discovering in them a prophetic testimony about him, a foretelling of him, of his message and of his mission of salvation. Through this teaching, the disciples are instructed by the Lord himself to become his witnesses. Thus Peter, in today’s liturgy, bears witness to the Lord’s resurrection from this new, deeper understanding of the Easter event before the people. In this light of Christ, the Risen One, he also understands and proclaims David’s psalm: “For you will not abandon my soul to the underworld” (Acts 2:27).

When Jesus reveals to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus the true meaning of Sacred Scripture, the apostles in Jerusalem already know that this psalm has been fulfilled in reality: “Truly the Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon” (Lk 24:26).

4. The encounter on the road to Emmaus is of great importance also because, in this way, Jesus emphasised to his disciples, after his death on the cross, that he remains with them. He is with them despite, or precisely because of, Good Friday and the Passion, and he will remain forever with his Church according to his promise: “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you” (Jn 14:18).

Christ is not merely the One who was, but far more the One who is. He was present on the road to Emmaus, and he is also present on all the roads of the world, along which his disciples walk, through the generations and the centuries.

5. Dear brothers and sisters! From the encounter with the Risen Lord on the road to Emmaus, new light dawned for the two disciples on the Holy Scriptures and on the events of Calvary; new light dawned in the darkness of their own lives. Light also dawns on the history and destinies of humanity and the Church, and therefore also on the Church of Augsburg. Christ showed how the Messiah ‘had’ to suffer in order to fulfil his saving mission. Is it not true that it is precisely in this light that we are able, at times, to see and understand the darkness and suffering that Christ’s disciples and the Church have faced on their journey through history? Through this, we are often able to recognise, in trials and sufferings, the good and caring hand of God, who through the experience of the cross leads us to salvation and resurrection.

[Pope John Paul II, homily in Augsburg, 3 May 1987]

The Gospel from this Sunday, which is the Third Sunday of Easter, is that of the disciples of Emmaus (cf. Lk 24:13-35). They were two of Jesus’ disciples who, after his death and the Sabbath was past, leave Jerusalem and return, sad and dejected, to their village which was named Emmaus. Along the way the Risen Jesus draws near to them, but they do not recognize him. Seeing them so sad, he first helps them to understand that the Passion and death of the Messiah were foreseen in the plan of God and announced in the Sacred Scriptures: and thus he rekindled a fire of hope in their hearts. 

At that point, the two disciples experienced an extraordinary attraction to the mysterious man, and they invited him to stay with them that evening. Jesus accepted and went into the house with them. When, at table, he blessed the bread and broke it, they recognized him, but he vanished out of their sight, leaving them full of wonder. After being enlightened by the Word, they had recognized the Risen Jesus in the breaking of the bread, a new sign of his presence. And immediately they felt the need to go back to Jerusalem to tell the other disciples about their experience, that they had met the living Jesus and recognized him in the act of the breaking of the bread.

The road to Emmaus thus becomes a symbol of our journey of faith: the Scriptures and the Eucharist are the indispensable elements for encountering the Lord. We too often go to Sunday Mass with our worries, difficulties and disappointments.... Life sometimes wounds us and we go away feeling sad, towards our “Emmaus”, turning our backs on God’s plan. We distance ourselves from God. But the Liturgy of the Word welcomes us: Jesus explains the Scriptures to us and rekindles in our hearts the warmth of faith and hope, and in Communion he gives us strength. The Word of God, the Eucharist. Read a passage of the Gospel every day. Remember it well: read a passage from the Gospel every day, and on Sundays go to Communion, to receive Jesus. This is what happened to the disciples of Emmaus: they received the Word; they shared the breaking of bread and from feeling sad and defeated they became joyful. Dear brothers and sisters, the Word of God and the Eucharist fill us with joy always. Remember it well! When you are sad, take up the Word of God. When you are down, take up the Word of God and go to Sunday Mass and receive Communion, to participate in the mystery of Jesus. The Word of God, the Eucharist: they fill us with joy.

Through the intercession of Most Holy Mary, let us pray that every Christian, in reliving the experience of the disciples of Emmaus, especially at Sunday Mass, may rediscover the grace of the transforming encounter with the Lord, with the Risen Lord, who is with us always. There is always a Word of God that gives us guidance after we slip; and through our weariness and disappointments there is always a Bread that is broken that keeps us going on the journey.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli, 4 May 2014]

Concordism and compromises, or chaos and different stability

(Jn 6:16-21)

Jn narrates the episode differently from the Synoptics: not so much as an outcome of the communion of the loaves, as Manifestation of Christ.

The centre of gravity of the story is Jesus' presentation of his Person: «I Am» (v.20), self-revelation of the God of Exodus [3:14: «I Am who I will be" - that is: «you will understand who I Am by what I will do»].

This is to end the tergiversations in the interpretation of His figure:

The Son of God is not a healer nor a miracle-worker, but the Deliverer from whom the people expect the Manna that heartens, the 'land' that is promised to them, salvation from death.

The passage is a parable of the church in the grip of the troubled waters of the abyss, dominated by doubt, uncertainty, a wavering faith, still lacking a blessed and everlasting seal.

In going hard and unsupported - amidst even internal controversies - we suddenly catch the Lord arriving.

He suddenly comes close, takes our pace and that of the events themselves - to accompany the vertigo and torment.

Our life proceeds towards the opposite shore, where the Master is already.

We go in hope, but sometimes adversity threatens to make us drown, and with us they seem to drag the whole boat down.

Only the Lord "walks on the sea", that is, He advances and overcomes death.

If we host Him, we realize that every element is in His power: and in Him everything is opportunity to reactivate us, also the headwind.

The invisible Friend guides, infallibly realizes, brings us to «shore». Definitive condition that the force of the waves cannot affect, even when we have the feeling of being swept away by the same waves.

Using paraphrases from the book of Exodus, Jn seeks to help his communities understand the Mystery of the Jesus’ Person.

And immersed in His story, we too grasp the vocational reality that can envelop us and characterize us, when we do not reject His Appeal.

A Calling that launches us into a different way of life, starting from unexpected resources - which can be accessed when we stop focusing our attention only on what frightens and seems negative.

The assemblies' debate on the Messiah, as well as the churches' relations with the world, also accentuated dissension and uncertainty.

Some Jewish converts considered Christ to be a character after all in line with their mentality and tradition, in agreement with First Testament prophecies and figures.

Conversely, some pagans who had accepted the Lord advocated a compromise with the worldly mentality. A sort of agreement between Jesus and the Empire, which the evangelist considers idolatrous contamination [the temptation of the pagan crowd to make him King immediately precedes the passage: vv.14-15].

The situation of the tiny believing families in the Empire was dark, doubtful, conflicted inside and out.

Jesus seemed absent, and the sea was rough, the wind contrary, threatening, unknown.

And yet, precisely in the condition of jolted pilgrims, in the essential Faith one experienced a strange and ‘different stability inside’: permanence, against the tide.

Hence awakening, proliferation, growth.

Cultural marginalization, unknowns, comparisons, trials, did not swallow up the believers, on the contrary, they made them more resolute and expeditious (v.21) - according to the Voice of the Risen One, present in the soul of everyone.

Thus, a crossing to Freedom was proposed to the disciples, which came from that intimate perception, only welcoming.

Able to nourish everyone's spirit and tear it away from phobias - in the chaos of external securities. With which the «sons» could make peace.

[Saturday 2nd wk. in Easter, April 18, 2026]

Artificial concord and compromise, or chaos and different stability

(Jn 6:16-21)

Jn narrates the episode differently from the Synoptics: not so much as the outcome of the communion of loaves, as the Manifestation of Christ.

The centre of gravity of the story is the presentation that Jesus makes of his Person: "I am" (v.20), the self-revelation of the God of the Exodus [3:14: "I am who I will be" - i.e.: "you will understand who I am by what I will do"].

This is to put an end to the tergiversations in the interpretation of his figure: the Son of God is not a healer nor a miracle-worker, but the Deliverer from whom the people expect the Manna that heartens them, the 'land' that is promised to them, salvation from death.

The passage is a parable of the church in the grip of the troubled waters of the abyss, dominated by doubt, uncertainty, a wavering faith, still lacking a blessed and everlasting seal.

In going hard and unsupported, we suddenly catch the Lord coming. He comes suddenly near, takes our step and that of the events themselves - to accompany the dizziness and the torment.

[It is like the very Word of God expected in the Liturgy: it immediately makes us touch shore... thanks to the free insertion into the Mystery of the divine thought and condition].

Our life proceeds towards the opposite shore, where the Master is. We go in hope, but sometimes adversity threatens to drown us, and with us they seem to drag the whole boat down.

Only the Lord 'walks on the sea', that is, he advances and overcomes death. If we accommodate Him, we realise that every element is in His power: and in Him everything serves to revive us, even the headwind.

The invisible Friend guides, infallibly realises, makes us reach 'shore' - a definitive condition that the force of the waves cannot affect, even when we have the feeling of being swept away by the waves.

Using paraphrases from the book of Exodus, Jn seeks to help his communities understand the Mystery of the Person of Jesus, and the vocational reality that can envelop us and characterise us when we do not reject his Call.

A call that launches us into a different way of life, from unexpected resources - which can be accessed when we stop fixing our attention only on what frightens and seems negative.

Even the internal debate about the Messiah, and the churches' relationship with the world - accentuated dissension and uncertainty.

Some Jewish converts considered Christ to be a character in line with their mentality and tradition, in agreement with First Testament prophecies and figures.

Conversely, some pagans who had accepted the Lord advocated an understanding with the worldly mentality. A sort of agreement between Jesus and the Empire, which the evangelist considers an idolatrous contamination [the temptation of the pagan crowd to make him king immediately precedes the passage: vv.14-15].

The situation of the tiny believing families in the empire was dark, doubtful, or conflicted inside and out. Jesus seemed absent, and the sea was rough, the wind contrary, threatening, unknown.

And yet, in the very condition of stranded pilgrims, in the Essential Faith they experienced a strange and different stability within: staying against the tide. Hence awakening, proliferation, growth.

Cultural marginalisation, unknowns, confrontations and trials did not swallow up the believers, on the contrary they made them more resolute and expeditious (v.21) - according to the Voice of the Risen One, present in the soul of each one.

Thus, here was a crossing towards Freedom, which came from that intimate perception, only welcoming.

Able to nourish one's spirit and tear it away from phobias - in the chaos of external securities. With which one could make peace.

So our story hangs in the balance: we move forward wavering - as on a small boat tossed about by earthquakes, ecclesiastical and otherwise, local and global, that seem to want to drag down the whole of life.

Episodes that make us realise how much Christ's friendship is worth to us and what it conveys.

Only the Lord overcomes the fear of upheaval, but he does so without rushing in, and without established patterns that frame him forever. It would be like making him perish.

When we welcome his Person in a simple and forthright manner, we realise that there is another realm, unaligned.

Then we will be able to seize everything to regenerate ourselves, even the quakes, the forks, the very pitfalls of seemingly disruptive evil.

Who then can calm the storms... in the way of growth in coexistence, and (together) character?

In short: can the Exodus be recreated?

From the earliest times, Faith in the Person of Christ the Messiah was already shaken, wavering; not relaxed.

The disciples did not possess the Master's same quiet trust in the Father.And yet, precisely in the situation of precarious wayfarers, always off the conformist track - in reinterpreting the Son's 'madness', they contacted the same deep emotions that had been His.

And in Him one is always reborn renewed, original, deeper.

By going beyond any reassuring but bland situation - which no longer said anything. And doing so from visceral cores of experience.

A crossing towards a breath that came from clinging to Jesus alone, in the chaos of certainties.

For a discordant permanence. Where the unusual appeared that cleansed one from manners or from the habituated and stagnant 'old'.

Upsetting the unequal activations of being a woman and a man in our own time, in order not to shy away from dialogue, debate, pressing emergencies.

Conditions that want to take us elsewhere.

Even today, it is the path of unaccustomed and critical growth that reveals the Lord capable of manifesting his quiet strength.

Thus restoring the disrupted elements to the energetic and preparatory calm; lively in itself with new desires, which urge one not to close one's eyes.

The direction of travel imposed by Jesus on his followers seems to go against the grain, and brazenly breaks the rules accepted by all.

While the disciples fondle nationalist desires, the Master begins to make it clear that He is not the awaited Messiah, restorer of the defunct empire of David or the Caesars.

The Kingdom of God is open to all mankind, which in those jolting times sought security, acceptance, points of reference. 

Not infrequently, in the first assemblies everyone could find home and shelter (Mt 13:32c; Mk 4:32b).

But the apostles and church veterans seemed averse to proposals of openness, hospitality, and risk. They remained insensitive to an overly broad idea of fraternity - which displaced them.

This is still a live and very serious problem.

The teaching and reminder imposed on the disciples is always to cross to the other shore (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22; Jn 6:17), that is, not to keep for themselves, but to communicate the riches of the Father to the 'pagans', even though they are considered infected and infamous.

Yet already his people did not want to know about reckless disproportions that would actually make the action of the Son of God stand out.

They were calibrated to common purist religiosity, and a circumscribed ideology of power.

The resistance to the divine commission, as well as the resulting tearing internal disputes, seemed to unleash a great and dangerous storm in the assemblies of believers (Mt 8:24; Mk 4:37; Lk 8:23; Jn 6:18).

The storm, however, concerned only the disciples, the only ones dismayed; not Jesus "who walked on the sea and came near the boat" [Jn 6:19: this is the Risen One, in his definitive, divine condition].

What happens "inside" is not a mere reflection of what happens "outside". This is the error to be corrected.

Such identification blocks and makes life chronic, starting with the handling of emotionally relevant situations - which have their own meaning.

They make a significant and fundamental appeal, they introduce a different eye, excavation and dialogue.

In short, even today we are confused, embarrassed, and chaos rages? We are paradoxically going in the right direction, the essential one; but we must not get caught up in fear.

In Him, we are imbued with a different view of danger.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxii): 'The saint does not see by himself, therefore he is enlightened'. Even in bottlenecks.

Indeed, it seems that Jesus expressly wants for the apostles themselves, dark moments of confrontation and doubt.

Even for us, even if we were church leaders... because otherwise there will be no cleansing from repetitive convictions.

Textbook expectations, the habit of setting up conformist harmonies, mannerisms, block the flowering of what we are and hope for.

Above all: what is annoying or even 'against' has something decisive to tell us.

Even in the small boat of the churches (Mk 4:36) unease must be expressed: 'And they were afraid' (Jn 6:19c).

All this is to revive the essence of each one, the sense of community itself.

To introduce the hidden or repressed change, and trigger it in the most effective way - by contact with the hidden, primordial virtues.

More than the opposing frictions and conflicting external events, the anxiety, the impression of collapse, the anguish, come in fact from the very fear of facing the normal or decisive questions of existence.

Perhaps out of mistrust: feeling in danger only because we are intimately ungrown, incapable of Other intimate conversation. And to discover, rework, convert, or remodel.

The fatigue of questioning oneself and the suffering that the adventure of Faith holds, will also fade amidst the discomfort of the rough sea - which precisely does not want us to return to 'those of before'.

Just disengage from the idea of stability, even religious stability, and listen to life as it is, embracing it.Even in its throngs of bumps, bitterness, dashed hopes for harmony, sorrows - engaging with this flood of new peaks, and encountering one's own profound nature.

The best vaccine against the travails of the adventure together with the Risen One on the changing waves of the unexpected will be precisely: not to avoid worries upstream - on the contrary, to go towards them and welcome them; to recognise them, to let them happen.

Even in times of emergency, the apprehensions that seem to want to devastate, come to us as preparatory forces of other joys that wish to break through.

New cosmic attunements, they seek us; for astonishment starting with ourselves.

And guide us to the hereafter: "and immediately the boat came to the land where they were going" (Jn 6:21).

Our little boat is in an inverted, inverted, unequal stability; uncertain, inconvenient - yet gallivanting, prickly, capable of reinventing itself.

And it will even be excessive.

For a proposal of Tenderness - not corresponding.

It is not a zone of affectionate relaxation, because it rhymes with the terrible anxiety of exploration.

To internalise and live the message:

On what occasions have you found easy what previously seemed impossible? 

What existential, faith, friendship and missionary effect has contact with the deep emotions of friction and danger had on you?

Some other providence, which you ignore

"It is good not to fall, or to fall and get up again. And if it happens that you fall, it is good not to despair and not to become estranged from the love that the Sovereign has for man. If he wills it, he can indeed do mercy to our weakness. Only let us not turn away from him, let us not feel distressed if we are forced by the commandments, and let us not be disheartened if we come to nothing [...].

We must neither hurry nor fall back, but always begin again [...].

Wait for him, and he will show you mercy, either by conversion or by trials, or by some other providence which you do not know."

[Peter Damascene, Second Book, Eighth Discourse, in La Filocalia, Turin 1982, I,94].

Bread and wonders of the Christ-phantom. And we, the fringe of his cloak

(Mk 6:53-56 // Mt 14:34-36)

He who is devoted to the cause of non-violence and non-possession, who is driven by the pursuit of truth and righteousness, who is capable of solving his own emotional and intellectual problems, and who can show others the way to overcome their emotional and intellectual problems [Acharya Mahaprajna], can carry the mantle of the Master.

While some are continually crowding around Jesus and preventing others from having a personal relationship with Him, something has to be invented; at least take Him in stride (v.56).

"And wherever he entered villages or towns or hamlets they placed the sick in the squares and begged him to touch even the fringe of his cloak. And as many as touched him were saved".

Indeed, the fringe of the mantle is his People - and each of us, when by Gift we are enabled to perceive and prolong his call, spirit, care, action.

A 'touching' that is not mere gesture: it calls for total involvement; personal faith, digging in.

The crowds around the Lord and the Church, his primary presence, seek bread and healing... but sometimes they forget to adhere to the inner Person who gives and heals.

Yet even in these cases, the infallible Guide re-proposes his unbroken wave of life - with therapies that do not pass through souls as lightning would, but in real existence.

God liberates, saves, creates, from tensions and faults (also religious) because He wants to bring us to awareness.

The Father desires to penetrate the value of the act of love that makes the weak strong; every re-creating gesture, embodied, open to any sense of emptiness.

Annoyances do not happen out of misfortune or chastisement: they come to let us flourish again, precisely from the soul's pains.

If they persist, no fear: they become more explicit messages, from our own Higher Seed.

It means that in our orchestra something is out of tune or neglected, and must either fade away or be discovered and brought into play.

Otherwise, one will not be able to grow towards the destiny that characterises a Calling and every discomfort.

Even the symptoms of restlessness belong to the innate quintessence - which always has topical power.

The key will therefore not be looks, nor health, but the very acceptance of bitterness, of hardships, which come to clear away the inessential - and release trapped spiritual drives.

Energies of imbalance, which, however, want to be transformed into the ability to cast ballast; as well as to better accommodate and integrate the vocation into one's own history, in order to build life again.

Perhaps not a few would prefer to wait for a miraculous landing of the Master [typified healer] that brings immediate benefit, immediate favour.Outward salvation with a magical flavour - transient, even if physically palpable or even in ethical semblance.

A phenomenal, but simplistic Lord.

An Appearance that dies at once, then starts again - if He (in us, in our turning points) did not involve the very uncertainties that mark us.

And the long time of processes, which gradually take on a more intimate weight.

Total and sacred - truly messianic - redemption is little prone to epidermal clamour.

Healing is not scenic. He only realises Himself step by step; thus He remains deep and radical.

He becomes capable of new beginnings and acts of birth of still embryonic energy, precisely from individual precariousness.

His People of intimates - a presence no longer ineffable and mysterious - works in proximity, to erase the false image of the philosophical or forensic God, always external. 

Sovereign or imperative engine, distant and absent - touchy, predatory - that occasionally takes aim; it does not overcome, nor does it reconfirm. It never looks at our present.

This is how the Church rejects the idea of the ratifying Eternal, but also that of the mass thaumaturge, immediately resolving - so dear to miracle merchants.

A figure that easily takes hold of our fantasies.

We announce his authentic Face with words and gestures, precisely to annihilate the idea of the Christ-phantom of the previous passage (v.49), a deplorable and absurd figure.

An evanescent icon, merely apologetic, which unfortunately in history has given ample space to business associates with the Most High.

In this way, being healed does not mean escaping transience.

A saved existence requires a transformation from within; a different beginning. A different foothold of the good.

Jesus travels through our environments as a silent wayfarer, and also accepts a primitive faith.

But albeit with dim power, the divine impulse operates in every seeker of meaning and every needy person.

One settles into it personally, precisely from interrupted dreams.

The Lord cannot be imprisoned and contained: he draws near, to initiate great cleansing, make us shift our gaze, and renew the stale universe.

Thus he transforms our souls, in the experience of his free communion,

He wants to take up residence in us, to merge and expand the impulse to life - perhaps cowering in abstention. So that each one marvels at himself, at unknown passions, at new relationships.

Believer and community manifest in empathic forms the incisive healing power of Faith in the Risen One, starting from one's own intimate story.

We experience Him alive in the monotonous, unrewarding, and precarious day-to-day - yet capable of changing the order of existence hidden in sketchy quarters [v.56: "hamlets"] and its unexpressed destination.

without disturbing it with special, one-sided, or pressing effects.

The Tao Tê Ching (xi) writes: 'Thirty races unite in one hub, and in its non-being is the usefulness of the chariot'.

Elsewhere from the civilisation of appearance is the improvement of our condition and security, from insecurity.

Not in a simple, indiscreet and transient getting back on one's feet.

Phenomenal, but only punctual and inconclusive, or finally abdicating.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you consider Jesus? Miracle worker or recuperator?

How do you deal with those who are excluded or seem to be without a shepherd?

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" - with these and similar words the Church's liturgy prays repeatedly [...].

These are invocations probably formulated at the time of the decline of the Roman Empire. The disintegration of the fundamental orders of law and the basic moral attitudes that gave them strength caused the breaking of the banks that had hitherto protected peaceful coexistence between men. A world was passing away. Frequent natural cataclysms further increased this experience of insecurity. No force could be seen to put a stop to this decline. All the more insistent was the invocation of God's own power: that He would come and protect men from all these threats.

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni". Today, too, we have many reasons to join this prayer [...] The world with all its new hopes and possibilities is, at the same time, distressed by the impression that moral consensus is dissolving, a consensus without which legal and political structures do not function; consequently, the forces mobilised to defend these structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita - the prayer is reminiscent of the cry addressed to the Lord, who was sleeping in the disciples' storm-tossed boat that was close to sinking. When His mighty word had calmed the storm, He rebuked the disciples for their little faith (cf. Mt 8:26 and par.). He meant: in yourselves faith has slept. The same thing is meant for us. In us too, faith so often sleeps. Let us therefore pray to Him to awaken us from the slumber of a faith that has become weary and to restore to faith the power to move the mountains - that is, to give right order to the things of the world.

[Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia 20 December 2010].