2nd Easter Sunday or Divine Mercy Sunday  [12 April 2026]

*First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:42–47)

Here is a glimpse of the very first Christian community, as Saint Luke loves to portray it in the Acts of the Apostles. On several occasions—four, in fact—he sketches, in just a few lines, a portrait of this kind; one might almost call them candid family snapshots. Taken together, these scenes paint a picture that seems almost idyllic of the lives of the early Christians: devoted to the apostles’ teaching and to prayer, they live in praise of the Lord and share everything in common, performing numerous healings along their path and continually welcoming new members… This does not prevent Luke from recounting, elsewhere, some very real difficulties faced by these same communities… Ananias and Sapphira, for example, who struggled to live out the sharing of goods to the full; and, even more seriously, the difficulties of coexistence between Christians of Jewish origin and Christians of pagan origin… One might then ask what message Luke wishes to convey to us by painting such beautiful, almost unreal portraits. This brings to mind the family photos from festive occasions that adorn the walls of our homes, the photo albums or the collages we love to look at. Clearly, the best images have been chosen; looking at them, we become aware of the beauty of our families and the joy of certain special days. For Saint Luke, this is certainly the case, but it is also much more: it is proof that the messianic times have arrived. The apostles became capable of living as brothers thanks to the gift of the Spirit. And this is all that the Spirit enables us to do: he who continues his work in the world and brings every sanctification to fulfilment (according to the splendid expression of the Eucharistic Prayer). This is the sign of the Spirit poured out upon the world by the Messiah: it is precisely what the prophets had promised. Brotherhood, peace, justice, and the abolition of evil are the values of the Kingdom of God that the Messiah was to establish, and of which the early Christians repeatedly set an example. This is the proof that Jesus is truly the long-awaited Messiah, the proof that he has poured out the Spirit of God upon the world. Then we understand the expression: “A sense of awe came over everyone”: it is wonder at the work of God. Luke tells us: see, my brothers and sisters, the first signs of the Kingdom are already here; this is what the Holy Spirit enables us to experience in our families, in our parishes and in our communities when we allow ourselves to be guided by him in the light of Easter. From Christ’s Resurrection a new humanity was born, one that grows slowly around and in the image of the Son of God. St Paul would say: look, we have truly risen! That is to say: we are truly living a new life; the old man (our former way of behaving) is dead. Luke, a converted pagan, marvels at the irresistible spread of the Gospel: ‘Every day the Lord added to the community those who were being saved.’ I note, in passing, that it is the Lord who brings new members into the community! What is asked of us? Perhaps, quite simply, to be true Christian communities, worthy of the name. For it is through its very concrete life that the community bears witness to the Resurrection of Christ: a life made up of sharing the Word and the bread, of prayer, of sharing all goods, all in joy! It is truly a world turned upside down! In particular, personal self-emptying and the sharing of all goods: this is something unachievable for ordinary people… unless they are indwelt by the Spirit of God, the one whom Christ himself has given them. Jesus had said: ‘By this everyone will know that you are my disciples: if you have love for one another. This is what will show the whole world that Jesus is alive; and this is what judges once and for all our quarrels and slander, our intolerance and divisions, our refusal to share. Naturally, we are not forbidden to draw from these beautiful portraits the criteria for assessing the quality of our communities (families, groups, Christian communities). It is a bit as if Luke were saying to us: let those who have ears to hear, hear! Because, after all, what we have heard is indeed a programme for Christian life; if I count correctly, there are four points: listening to the apostles’ teaching, living in fraternal communion (even to the point of sharing possessions), breaking bread and taking part in prayers. To conclude, it seems to me that the great Good News of this text is this: this new way of behaving, inspired by the Holy Spirit, is possible! Just as photos from festive occasions remind us of the possibilities for love within our families. But this may also prompt us to ask some questions: Luke notes that they were ‘persevering together’ in the temple and faithful in breaking bread in their homes with joy and simplicity of heart. Today we would say: they lived the Eucharist. This means at least three things: first of all, Sunday Mass is much more than an obligation; it is a vital necessity: the practice of the Eucharist is indispensable for each of us in the life of faith. Furthermore, and even more seriously, every time one of us does not take part in the Eucharist, it is the community itself that is deprived of one of its members. Finally, the third aspect: a community is severely disadvantaged when deprived of this regular nourishment; this clearly highlights the problem faced by so many Christian communities without a priest, sometimes for a very long time, whilst some parishes in our regions offer a wide choice of Mass times to meet all needs. We cannot help but admire the dynamism of the faith of those who know how to keep their communities alive despite the absence of a priest.

*Responsorial Psalm (117/118)  

 We have already sung this Psalm 117/118 during the Easter Vigil and on Easter Day itself. Indeed, every ordinary Sunday, it forms part of the Office of Lauds in the Liturgy of the Hours. This is hardly surprising: for the Jews, this psalm concerns the Messiah; for us Christians, when we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ, we recognise in him the Messiah awaited throughout the Old Testament, the true King, the conqueror of death. It is therefore on this twofold level — that of Jewish expectation and Christian faith — that it must be considered. For the Jewish faith, it is a psalm of praise: indeed, it begins with the word Alleluia, which means ‘praise God’ and sets the tone for the whole; furthermore, it comprises twenty-nine verses and, throughout, the word ‘Lord’ (the tetragrammaton YHWH) or at least ‘Yah’, which is its first syllable, appears more than thirty times… and these are all expressions of praise for God’s greatness, God’s love, God’s work for his people… A veritable litany! This psalm of praise is intended to accompany a thanksgiving sacrifice during the Feast of Tabernacles, an important and joyful festival lasting eight days in autumn: we find traces of the joy of this festival in the text of the psalm itself. For example: “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

During this festival, people dwell in tents for eight days, in remembrance of the tents of the Exodus after the departure from Egypt, to rediscover the meaning of the Covenant. Then there are numerous celebrations in the Temple of Jerusalem, and processions are held around the altar, waving branches and singing “Hosanna”, which means “Grant, Lord, grant salvation”; and as the expectation of the Messiah is very much alive in the spirit of this festival, the words “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” are repeated, as a sort of prayer to hasten his coming. Another significant rite was a grand and spectacular illumination of the Temple on the final evening. All these rites resonate in this psalm, provided one reads it in its entirety. For example, in other verses which we do not hear in the liturgy of the Second Sunday of Easter, it is proclaimed: ‘With branches in hand, form a procession to the altar… Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord”, “Say, the Lord enlightens us”, alluding to the illumination of the final evening. All this concerns words of praise, and these are the reasons: to speak of the history of Israel, the psalm recounts the story of a king who has just faced a merciless war and achieved victory. This king now comes to give thanks to his God for having sustained him. He says, for example: “They pushed me hard to make me fall, but the Lord helped me… and again, all the nations surrounded me: in the name of the Lord I defeated them… and again: I shall not die, I shall live and proclaim the works of the Lord”.  The speaker is therefore a king who has miraculously escaped all the attacks of hostile peoples; but in reality we know what to read between the lines: it is the story of the people of Israel. Many times, throughout its history, it has come close to annihilation; but each time the Lord has raised it up, and it celebrates this in the great Feast of Tabernacles: it sings “I shall not die, I shall live and proclaim the works of the Lord”. This role as a witness to the works of the Lord is Israel’s very vocation; and it is in the very awareness of this vocation that it has found the strength to survive all its trials throughout history. For us Christians, this psalm evokes a connection between the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles and Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, which we commemorate on Palm Sunday. But above all, the joy that runs through this psalm is fitting for the Risen One on Easter morning! He is that victorious king and, on closer inspection, the evangelists, each in their own way, present him to us as the true king. Matthew, for example, constructed the episode of the Magi’s visit in such a way as to make us understand that the true king is not the one indicated by historians (Herod), but the child of Bethlehem… or John, who, in the account of the Passion, clearly presents Jesus as the true King of the Jews. Meditating on the mystery of this Messiah—rejected, despised, crucified—the apostles discovered a new meaning in this psalm: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes’.  Jesus had already quoted it in the parable of the murderous vineyard tenants, showing that he is the cornerstone, rejected by the builders and become the foundation stone; that is, rejected by his own people, he became the foundation stone of the new Israel. He is truly ‘the one who comes in the name of the Lord’, as the psalm says: this very expression was used during his solemn entry into Jerusalem. Finally, we know that this psalm was sung in Jerusalem on the occasion of a thanksgiving sacrifice. Jesus, however, has just performed the sacrifice of thanksgiving par excellence! He takes the lead of the new Israel, which gives thanks to God his Father: and it is precisely this that characterises Jesus. His entire attitude towards the Father is one of thanksgiving, thus inaugurating the New Covenant between God and humanity: the one in which humanity is nothing other than a response of love to the Father’s love.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (1:3–9)          

 Some wonder whether Peter might have drawn here on a hymn sung during baptisms… We have no proof of this, but it is nonetheless an interesting hypothesis that may help us to understand this text better. Three stanzas are easily discernible, of which I offer a brief summary: First stanza (vv. 3, 4, 5): “Blessed be God…”. He has brought us to new life through the Resurrection of Christ, and now we live in faith and hope; as a well-known hymn says: God makes us, in Jesus Christ, free people. Second stanza (vv. 6 and 7): hope already makes us leap for joy, but we are still in the time of the testing of our faith. Third stanza (vv. 8 and 9): blessed are those who believe without having seen; our faith already gives us an inexpressible joy that transfigures us. The word ‘faith’ appears five times in these few lines. This is not surprising, given that we are in a baptismal celebration; and there is also an extraordinary joy, which he describes as inexpressible, despite the present trials (even though you must now be grieved for a little while by various trials, v. 6): here he is clearly addressing Christian communities living in a hostile world, probably persecuted, and this seems precisely to be the case for Peter’s audience. For convenience, I shall now take up the three verses one by one: “Blessed be God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ”: the form is Jewish, the content is Christian; beginning with a great blessing of God is typical of Jewish prayer; and it is certainly someone who has sung the psalms a great deal who is able to write such a text! But the content is Christian: in the Psalms, God is celebrated as the God of the Fathers, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob… by now Revelation has taken a decisive step: God is known as the Father of Jesus Christ, and it is through Jesus Christ that he fulfils his plan for humanity. “God has brought us to new life through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ”: just as Jesus himself did in his conversation with Nicodemus, Peter speaks of baptism as a new birth, and this new birth has its source in the Resurrection of Christ; today, after well over two thousand years of Christianity, we are so accustomed to the phrase “Jesus Christ is risen” that perhaps we no longer feel its shock; but the early Christians experienced it as a true revolution: by now, for them, the face of the world had changed; as Paul says, the old world has passed away, a new one has been born (2 Cor 5).

Another theme typical of Paul is also very prominent in Peter: the tension between the present and the future: everything is already accomplished in the resurrection of Christ and so he speaks in the past tense: God has made us born again… everything is already decided, so to speak; yet everything remains yet to come: we are reaching out towards the salvation ready to be revealed in the last days, as Peter says. The word ‘salvation’ could be translated as life… which knows neither corruption, nor stain, nor decay; it could also be translated as liberation from all that is indeed corruption, stain, and decay. A salvation, a liberation already accomplished in Jesus Christ, but into which all humanity has not yet entered: and this is what remains to come.

It is the fact that everything is already accomplished from this moment that makes us leap for joy, as Peter says; the days when we are sad are perhaps those in which we lose sight of this great news of Easter: the good news that love and life are stronger than all hatred and death, even if in certain situations this certainty tends to fade and our faith is then put to the test! And the second verse puts it well: ‘You are being tested for a little while by various trials,’ says Peter. The rest of the letter gives a glimpse of the difficulties in question, probably the hostility encountered by these young Christians who appear marginalised in a pagan world.

The final verse takes up this theme of faith during the time of waiting; Peter had the privilege of knowing and spending a long time with Jesus Christ, but he addresses Christians who did not know him and explains to them the blessedness that Jesus had spoken of to Thomas: ‘Blessed are those who believe without having seen’, and he encourages them: You love him without having seen him; and without seeing him yet, you believe in him… and you rejoice with an ‘inexpressible and glorious’ joy. When he uses the expression ‘glorious joy’, Peter knows what he is talking about, he who had the privilege of witnessing the Transfiguration of Jesus: and on the faces of Christians he sees a reflection of the light that radiated from Jesus himself. Peter’s emphasis on the joy of Christians—a joy that is at once inexpressible and stronger than all passing trials—resonates today as a call to ensure that everyone can see the joy of our baptism on our faces, as a reflection of the transfigured Jesus. Traditionally, this Sunday was called ‘in albis’, meaning ‘in white garments’. Indeed, those newly baptised on Easter night wore their baptismal garments throughout the Easter week. And this Sunday represented for them a kind of feast of the baptised.

*From the Gospel according to John (20:19–31)

 It was after Jesus’ death, on the evening of the first day of the week, that is, Sunday. This is not merely a temporal detail that Saint John offers us, but rather a small yet significant sign. When John wrote his Gospel, some fifty years had already passed since the events—that is, since the passion, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. Fifty years during which Christians gathered every Sunday to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus; and so the message he wishes to convey is: ‘Do you understand, then, why we gather every Sunday?’ The gathering of Christians every Sunday was a characteristic of Christians within the Jewish world, and it was precisely to commemorate the resurrection of Christ. For the Jews, the first day of the week – Sunday – was a working day like any other, whilst the seventh day, the Sabbath (Shabbat), was a day of celebration, rest, assembly and prayer. Now, it was the day after the Shabbat that Jesus rose from the dead, and on several occasions he appeared alive to his apostles after the resurrection, always on the first day of the week: thus, for Christians, that day took on a special significance. This first day of the week appears as the first day of the new era: just as the Jews’ seven-day week recalled the seven days of Creation, so this new week, which began with Christ’s resurrection, was understood by Christians as the beginning of the new Creation. The disciples had locked the doors of the place where they were, out of fear of the Jews, when Jesus came and stood among them. John emphasises that the disciples are shut inside and afraid because, having killed the Master, they might well kill his disciples too. Yet this too highlights Christ’s freedom. Everything is locked up, but for him it is no problem: he has no need of bolts and, above all, he knows no fear! And, precisely for this reason, his first words are: ‘Peace be with you’! It was the customary Jewish greeting… yet it is still a surprising greeting after all that has happened! The fear, the anguish of the last few months before Jesus’ arrest, the horror of his passion and death, Thursday night, Friday, and that silence of the Sabbath, after Jesus had been laid in the tomb… Is it possible to be at peace as if nothing had happened? Yet, it is incredible but true: he is truly alive… and, to prove it, he shows his wounds, the permanent marks of the crucifixion. In this regard, it is specifically noted that the marks are still present in his hands, feet and side: the Resurrection does not erase our death. So, even though it may seem incredible, Saint John notes that the disciples rejoiced. What they are experiencing is unheard of! And, at this point, John continues: “Jesus said to them again: ‘Peace be with you’”. Now they can truly be at peace… not as if nothing had happened, but in spite of what has happened: because this peace of the Risen One goes far beyond anything that might happen. “Having said this, he breathed on them and said to them: ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. ‘Whose sins you forgive are forgiven; whose sins you retain are retained.’ The link between the gift of the Spirit and the mission of reconciliation is striking: in the Bible, the Spirit is always given for a mission. But ultimately, can there be any mission more important than reconciling people with God? Everything else flows from this. It is a command that Jesus gives: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Go and proclaim that sins are remitted, that is, forgiven. Be ambassadors of universal reconciliation. And if you do not go, the Good News, the gospel of Reconciliation, will not be proclaimed. Jesus says: “As the Father has sent me…”: from the very mouth of Jesus Christ, we have a summary of his entire mission, for it is as if he were saying: The Father has sent me to proclaim universal reconciliation, to proclaim that sins are forgiven, and that God does not keep a record of people’s sins; in other words, I have come to proclaim one thing alone: that God is all Love and Forgiveness. In turn, I send you on the same mission. Therefore, we must pay close attention: the only true sin, which is at the root of all others, is not to believe in or to reject God’s love: I therefore send you so that you may proclaim to all people God’s infinite love, that is, that God is infinite Mercy. But how can we make God’s love known? It is not enough to proclaim God’s mercy; one must ‘give one’s life’ for the ‘salvation’ of souls. When will we understand that this is the whole Gospel and how great our responsibility is? 

NB Please note: We must fully understand the phrase: ‘Whose sins you forgive are forgiven; whose sins you do not forgive are not forgiven’. I have been drawn into a structural and theological analysis which I share with you.  

Full Greek text with transliteration ἄν τινων ἀφῆτε τὰς ἁμαρτίας, ἀφέωνται αὐτοῖς· (an tinōn aphēte tas hamartias, apheōntai autois) ἄν τινων κρατῆτε, κεκράτηνται. (an tinōn kratēte, kekratēntai) Fluid translation of the verse: “Whose sins you forgive, they are already forgiven; whose sins you retain, they remain retained.”  The sentence is constructed in two parallel movements: ἀφῆτε (you forgive),  ἀφέωνται (they are already forgiven by God); κρατῆτε (you retain), κεκράτηνται (they are already retained)  Immediate emergence: visible action and divine reality.  Verbs of the apostles: ἀφῆτε / κρατῆτε  which are aorist subjunctive and signify: a precise and decisive act, a real event. b) The final verbs ἀφέωνται / κεκράτηνται are in the passive perfect tense and mean: an action already accomplished and already established by God, a lasting effect. Why does John use the aorist? He does not use the present tense because it does not indicate a continuous action, but the aorist, which means: “ At the moment you forgive or retain sins, a real and decisive act takes place” and the act of the apostles enters into God’s permanent, effective action. Theological consequences: Primacy of God: only God forgives. Role of the Church: to make visible, to apply forgiveness concretely, and sin is either removed or remains. Spiritual insight: Forgiveness is a real event, not a symbol, and the Church is a visible instrument, but the efficacy comes from God. Final summary: When the Church remits sins, a real and decisive act takes place in which the forgiveness that is already at work in God is manifested and made present; when she withholds them, it is evident that, unfortunately, that forgiveness has not been accepted. And here lies the problem: why is it not accepted? Forgiveness is neither an idea nor a process: it is an event of God, and the Church makes it visible. God always forgives us, and we are forgiven when we confess our sin with faith. God is infinite Mercy that never fails and desires that all may be saved; but it is necessary for man to welcome His gratuitous love into his heart. The Church is called to make this forgiveness visible every day, without ceasing, and every Christian is called to bear witness to and proclaim the forgiveness that is God’s absolutely gratuitous love, so that all may believe, welcome it and experience it in their own lives. In short: God forgives endlessly, and those who believe proclaim it and live it as the Gospel that enters their very being. I conclude with this message from Medjugorje, 2 March 1997: “Dear children! Pray for your brothers and sisters who have not come to know the love of God the Father, and for those for whom life on earth is more important. Open your hearts to them and see in them my Son who loves them. You must be my light: enlighten all souls in whom darkness reigns. Thank you for responding to my call.”

It depends on you, says Jesus to the apostles and today to us, that your brothers and sisters may come to know and experience God’s love and live in his mercy. God’s plan will be fully accomplished only when you, in turn, have completed your mission. In short, understand well: just as the Father sent me, so I send you. And you do not have much time to lose

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Jn 3:1-8)

Jn introduces the Gospel passage with the highly representative Jewish leader, insisting on the imperfection of believing in prodigies that only grasp the outward side.

On the contrary, it seems to emphasise that the devotion-show so coveted by religious leaders only arouses deviant expectations and ambiguous hearts (2:18-25).

In the fourth Gospel, the notable represents precisely the Jews intrigued by the figure of Jesus [called Jews because they were related to the Judaizers of the first communities].

Some of them question themselves and do not silence the questions, but remain perplexed - because they are educated to other messianic, peremptory and clamorous expectations.

In fact, they cultivated the whole issue concerning the Kingdom of God (vv.3.5) in an approximate and conformist manner.

In addition, Jesus teaches that all speculation does not bring good results for life in the Spirit.

Our profound experience is not generated from what woman and man devise or do for God, from their possibilities - as assumed in ancient religions.

We must rely on the Grace that enters the scene, overturning petty hopes - in this way, not relying on our own measures, skills and dexterity; nor on thoughts, as established as they are inadequate.

The new Rabbi makes it clear that to understand the Mystery one must shake off the outer book of the Law, and embark on an experience of ideal and practical transmutation, like a Birth - alongside a regenerating Agent.

Christ prompts Nicodemus to make the leap from normal traditional devotion, with its reasonable intentions and expectations, to the adventure of Faith that grasps, dreams and maps out the future, surpassing the habitual chain of expectations.

One does not understand the Newness of God according to common knowledge, starting with the patriarchs - or by reading it in the watermark of a normative, albeit sharable.

The new order of existence is superior to all dexterity, restraint, and resilience. That which is born from the flesh is, however, subject to all boundaries.

Vice versa, the path 'from above' creates a new personality, thanks to which we are enabled to correspond perfectly to the Calling by Name, which propose itself again wave after wave in an increasing and dissimilar manner.

Recreated by the indestructible Life that Comes, we too are enabled to generate something similar to the same Nature that gives birth to us. As sparks somehow conforming to the divine: similis sibi similem parit.

Precisely: the too normal is unable to redefine the codes of a new look, and of the inconceivable space of unknown love.

What does not coincide with the inherited ideas is actually activating the new developments.

What is contrary to established customs, or fashions, is preparing another world, a different person, another trail to follow.

The Kingdom is not set up: it is welcomed - because it always throws us off guard.

The relationship with the God of religions usually comes up with static and reassuring recipes, but the experience of Faith in Christ convinces “by Way” that each stage must instead correspond to another genesis.

Indeed, the thorny trials are all called to a leap of over-nature; to sprout again.

Birth in the Spirit does not happen once and for all: only then will living not be a reward, nor perishing a punishment.

For we have become like a Wind.

[Monday 2nd wk. in Easter, April 13, 2026]

(Jn 3:1-8)

Jn introduces the Gospel passage with the very representative Jewish leader, insisting on the imperfection of believing in prodigies. They only grasp the outward side.

Indeed, he seems to emphasise that the religion-show so coveted by the religious leaders called Jews, because they were akin to the Judaizers of the first communities, arouses only deviant expectations and ambiguous hearts (2:18-25).

Nicodemus was a Pharisee, a prominent person, a leader among the early religious leaders, and even a member of the Sanhedrin [supreme court], which, however, recognises in Christ a messenger from God.

In the fourth Gospel, the notable represents precisely the Jews who were intrigued by the figure of Jesus. Some of them question and do not silence their questions, but remain perplexed - because they were educated to other messianic, peremptory and clamorous expectations.

Indeed, the authorities cultivated the whole issue concerning the 'Kingdom of God' (vv.3.5) in an approximate and conformist manner. [The expression so frequent in the Synoptics - 'kingdom of heaven' in Mt - is only found in this passage of the Fourth Gospel].

But it is only a point of support, because Jesus teaches that all speculations do not bring good results for life in the Spirit, which is not generated from what man devises or does for God, from his possibilities - as in religions.

We must rely on Grace, which enters the scene by overturning petty hopes - in this way, not relying on our own measures, skills and dexterity; nor on thoughts, which are as established as they are inadequate.

The new Rebbe makes it clear that to understand the Mystery we must shake off the outer book of the Law, and undertake an experience of ideal and practical transmutation, like a Birth - alongside a regenerating Agent.

Christ stimulates Nicodemus to make the leap from normal traditional religiosity, with its reasonable intentions and expectations, to the adventure of Faith that grasps, dreams and traces the future, surpassing the habitual chain of expectations.

One does not understand the Newness of God according to ancient knowledge, starting with the patriarchs - or by reading it in the watermark of a normative, albeit sharable, standard.

The new order of existence is superior to all capacities, all holdings and resiliences. That which is born from the flesh is in any case subject to too many boundaries.

Conversely, the path from above creates a new personality, by which we are enabled to correspond perfectly to the Calling by Name, which repeats itself wave after wave in increasing and dissimilar ways.

Recreated from the indestructible Life that Comes, we too are enabled to generate something like the same Nature that gives birth to us. As sparks that somehow conform to the divine: similis sibi similem parit.

Exactly: the too normal is unable to redefine the codes of a new look, and of the inconceivable space of unknown love.

It is not a question of changing banners, or 'cutting something' and mortifying oneself more. Rather, integrating and shining, changing beliefs.

What does not coincide with the inherited ideas is actually activating the new developments.

That which is contrary to established customs, or fashions, is preparing another world, a different person, a new calling (in the same personal vocation), another trail to follow.

It is no longer the God of religions, everything still and always to be achieved with arrangements, agility in the smallest details, and chiselled rhythms, accumulating merits according to clichés.

The Kingdom is not set up: it is welcomed - because it always bewilders us.

So it cannot be predetermined: it is impossible to set it up on the basis of our genius, muscles, virtues, perfections. We receive Him as a free gift and without 'due' prerequisites.

The God who comes without warning calls us to listen, to know what is unbelievable - to allow ourselves to be saved in an unthinkable way, then to be taken by surprise by the facts that Providence brings.

And there to stay, until the next news.

Jesus invites Nicodemus to scrutinise the reality of the soul and the events as a global sphere, of overall energies that draw together in paradoxical synergy, to recover the opposite sides - all of them useful.

Innate forces that are activated by attunements and reciprocal ways, making themselves infallible guides: cosmic outside and acutely divine within us.

The recoveries that Jesus makes through the quality of life of his own and of the communities generate in the one who is in the 'night' of doubt (v.2) an initial search and dedication, but they do not arouse active Faith.

In short, one does not understand God from arguments, but from the experience of involvement wave after wave; recreating, from the accepted Gift of one's own history, in the sign of the times.

We must lay aside the reassuring certainties of the normal religious catechism, and open heart and hand to the reality that comes like a tide - not to put us on the defensive, but to ride it.Throwing ourselves into the life of the Spirit retrieves us, but it supplants and overrides the organisation of the settled synagogues; it is not within the reach of complacent mechanisms or impersonal balances.

At most we understand its intrinsic course - the fullness of humanisation, in the creaturely plan - not its Origin and Goal.

Humanity, in its voluntarist plan and even in its good intentions, is unable to solve the real problems. It cannot give itself salvation; only manners - initiating at the same time processes of communion and individuation.

This is the new restlessness and the 'night' of questions that we, like Nicodemus, experience, practising teaching and works according to the norm - which do not convey a sense of fullness of being, indeed despite great promises seem to attract precisely sadness.

It is the Spirit of oneness that dominates the chaos, that shapes heaven and earth, and takes possession of the eminent characters of the First Testament, prompting them to perform actions in favour of the emancipation of the people - acting with contagious power.

But resting "as a dove" - a figure of a force no longer aggressive - on Jesus in Baptism (Jn 1:32), he initiates a new Creation, the reconciled Man, capable of fulfilling his vocation.

Of course, what characterises this Wind is freedom, not control. 

It acts energetically on us, but we do not act on Him. We cannot affect it. Only set the sails according to its direction, and look at it with new eyes.

Even in difficulties, the Gift of the Spirit prepares us for another Birth. Then the Word of Jesus announces an upheaval that goes to the root of the common pious life.

The relationship with the God of religions usually comes up with static and reassuring recipes, but the experience of Faith in Christ convinces "by Way" that each stage must instead correspond to another genesis.

Indeed, thorny trials are all called to a leap of supra-nature; to germinate again.

Birth in the Spirit does not happen once and for all: only then will living not be a prize, nor perishing a punishment.

For we have become like a Wind.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you accept the surprise? Do you feel it as a revelation of the Spirit's action? How do you react to the novelties that the apostolate proposes? On what occasion have you perceived that you are born again?

The Gospel presents to us a person by the name of Nicodemus, a member of the Sanhedrin of Jerusalem who sought out Jesus by night. He was a well-to-do man, attracted by the Lord's words and example, but one who hesitated to take the leap of faith because he was fearful of others. He felt the fascination of this Rabbi, so different from the others, but could not manage to rid himself of the conditioning of his environment that was hostile to Jesus, and stood irresolute on the threshold of faith. 

How many people also in our time are in search of God, in search of Jesus and of his Church, in search of divine mercy, and are waiting for a "sign" that will touch their minds and their hearts! 

Today, as then, the Evangelist reminds us that the only "sign" is Jesus raised on the Cross:  Jesus who died and rose is the absolutely sufficient sign. Through him we can understand the truth about life and obtain salvation. 

This is the principal proclamation of the Church, which remains unchanged down the ages.
The Christian faith, therefore, is not an ideology but a personal encounter with the Crucified and Risen Christ. From this experience, both individual and communitarian, flows a new way of thinking and acting:  an existence marked by love is born, as the saints testify.

[Pope Benedict, homily 26 March 2006]

1. Nicodemus said to him: "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter his mother's womb a second time and be born again?" (John 3, 4).

Nicodemus' question to Jesus expresses well the restless wonder of man before the mystery of God, a mystery that he discovers in his encounter with Christ. The whole dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus reveals the extraordinary richness of meaning of every encounter, even that of man with another man. The encounter is in fact the surprising and real phenomenon by which man comes out of his original solitude to face existence. It is the normal condition through which he is led to grasp the value of reality, of the people and things that constitute it, in a word, of history. In this sense it is comparable to a new birth.

In John's Gospel, Christ's encounter with Nicodemus has as its content the birth to the definitive life, that of the Kingdom of God. But in the life of every man, is it not encounters that weave the unexpected and concrete fabric of existence? Are they not at the basis of the birth of that self-awareness capable of action, which alone allows a life worthy of the name of man?

In the encounter with the other, man discovers that he is a person and that he must recognise the equal dignity of other men. Through significant encounters, he learns to know the value of the constituent dimensions of human existence, first and foremost those of religion, family and the people to which he belongs.

2. The value of being with its universal connotations - the true, the good, the beautiful - presents itself to man sensitively incarnated in the decisive encounters of his existence.

In conjugal affection, the encounter between lover and beloved, which finds fulfilment in marriage, begins with the perceptible experience of beauty embodied in the 'form' of the other. But being, through the attraction of the beautiful, asks to express itself in the fullness of authentic goodness. That the other be, that his good be realised, that the destiny traced out for him by the providential God be fulfilled, is the living and disinterested desire of every person who truly loves. The desire for lasting good, capable of generating and regenerating itself in children, would not be possible if it did not rest on truth. The attraction of beauty cannot be given the consistency of a definitive good without the search for self-truth and the will to persevere in it.

And going on: how could one be a fully realised man without the encounter, which takes place in the depths of oneself, with one's own land, with the men who have built its history through prayer, testimony, blood, genius and poetry? In turn, the fascination for the beauty of the homeland, and the desire for truth and goodness for the people who continually 'regenerate' it, increase the desire for peace, which alone makes the unity of the human race viable. The Christian is educated to understand the urgency of the ministry of peace by his encounter with the Church, where the people of God live that my predecessor Paul VI defined '. . . an ethnic entity sui generis'.

Its history has defied time for two thousand years now, leaving unaltered, despite the miseries of the people who belong to it, its original openness to truth, goodness and beauty.

3. But sooner or later man realises, in dramatic terms, that of such multiform and unrepeatable encounters he does not yet possess the ultimate meaning, capable of making them definitively good, true, beautiful. He intuits in them the presence of being, but being as such eludes him. The good to which he feels attracted, the true that he knows how to affirm, the beautiful that he knows how to discover are in fact far from satisfying him. Structural destitution or unquenchable desire parade themselves before man even more dramatically, after the other has entered his life. Made for the infinite, man feels himself a prisoner of the finite!

What journey can he still make, what other mysterious sortie from his inner self can he attempt, who has left his original solitude to go towards the other, seeking definitive fulfilment? Man, committed with genuine seriousness to his human experience, finds himself faced with a tremendous aut aut aut: to ask an Other, with a capital A, who rises on the horizon of existence to reveal and make possible its full fulfilment, or to withdraw into himself, into an existential solitude in which the very possibility of being is denied. The cry of demand or blasphemy: that is what is left!

But the mercy with which God has loved us is stronger than any dilemma. It does not stop even in the face of blasphemy. Even from within the experience of sin, man can always and again reflect on his metaphysical frailty and come out of it. He can grasp the absolute need for that Other with a capital A, who can forever quench his thirst! Man can rediscover the path of invocation to the Author of our salvation, that he may come! Then the soul surrenders to God's merciful embrace, finally experiencing, in this decisive encounter, the joy of a hope "that does not disappoint" (Rom 5:5).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 16 November 1983]

There are people - we too, very often - who cannot live in the light because they are accustomed to the dark. The light blinds them, they are unable to see. They are humans who are like bats, which only know how to move about at night. And we too, when we are in sin, are in this state: we cannot tolerate the light. It is more convenient for us to live in darkness. The light hits us in the face, it makes us see what we do not want to see. What’s worse is that the eyes of the soul, the more they live in darkness, the more they grow accustomed to it, and become ignorant of what light is. One loses a sense of light through growing more accustomed to the darkness. And many human scandals, so much corruption, prove this. Those who are corrupt do not know what the light is, they do not know. We too, when we are in a state of sin, distance ourselves from the Lord and become blind. We feel better when we are in the darkness and we move about in this way, without seeing, like the blind, as best we can.

Let us allow the love of God, who sent Jesus to save us, enter into us, and may the light that Jesus brings (see v. 19), the light of the Spirit, enter into us and help us to see things with God’s light, with the true light and not the shadows that the lord of darkness gives us.

Two things, today: the love of God in Christ, in the crucifix, in daily life. And the question we can ask ourselves every day: “Do I walk in the light or do I walk in the darkness? Am I a child of God or have I ended up like a poor bat?”

[Pope Francis, from: St Marta homily 22 April 2020 (on Jn 3:16-21)]

Jn 20:19-31 (24-31)

The Gospel passage has a liturgical flavour, but the question we glimpse in the watermark is crude. We too want «to see Him».

How to believe without having seen?

It is the most common question starting from the third generation of believers, who not only had not known the Apostles, but many of them not even subsequent pupils.

In particular: how do we go from «seeing»… to «believing» in a defeated, even subjected to torture?

There is an authentic Church, but held together by fear (v.19).

Not only because the arrest warrant always hangs over the real witnesses.

Also out of fear of confrontation with the world, or inability to dialogue.

Thomas is not afraid to stand outside the barred doors.

He does not withdraw into himself; he does not dread the encounter, the confrontation with life that pulsates and comes.

In this sense he is «said to be the twin» [δίδυμο] of each one - and of Jesus.

Our context resembles that of the Johannine realities of Asia Minor, lost in the immensity of the Roman Empire; small churches sometimes seduced by its attractions.

Ephesus in particular had hundreds of thousands of inhabitants.  Commercial emporium, banking center and major cosmopolitan city [whose centerpiece was of course the great Temple of Artemis - wonder of the ancient world] was the fourth city of the empire.

Distractions were many.

And already from the first generations of faithful the routine began to take over: the fervor of the beginnings was dying out; participation became sporadic.

Under Domitian, believers suffered social marginalization, discrimination.

Even today, one of the decisive elements of the ability to manifest the Risen One Present remains the direct encounter with sisters and brothers, within a living fraternity.

People who welcome surprises and encourage the ability to think and debate; who are themselves and make others breathe.

Women and men who spend their material resources and wisdom, according to particular history and sensitivity.

Where each one as he is and where is - real in the round, not dissociated from himself - becomes food for others with the crumbs he has.

Here then is the «recognize»: it is a question not of obedience to an abstract world, but of personal Likeness.

It is a matter of attuning the “physiognomy” and our small «actions» with the Source of Love consumed to the end [our «finger» and its «Hands»;  our «hand» and his «pierced Side»].

Even with our limitation, 'by entering into the wounds'. And by attraction, Faith will spring forth spontaneously (v.28).

Thus (vv.29-31 and 21:25) Jn invites each one to write his own personal Gospel.

When our works are at least a little the same as Christ's, everyone will ‘see’ Him.

So is there any evidence that Jesus lives?

Of course. He concretely manifests Himself in an assembly of non-conformist people, who are themselves; endowed with the capacity for autonomous thinking skills.

«Twins» of Him and of Thomas.

People Free to live in the world; outside locked doors - to listening, descending, serving.

And doing it with conviction: personally, without forcing or hysteria.

We too want to «see» Him.

[2nd Easter Sunday (of Divine Mercy), April 12, 2026]

(Jn 20:19-31)

The Manifestation, the Spirit, the remission

(Jn 20:19-23)

The Johannine Pentecost does not suffer any temporal delay (v.22) yet the Lucan account also emphasises the link with Easter, of which it is but a further specification.

Pentecost is not a matter of a date, but an event that happens without ceasing, in the assembled assembly; where a joy-filled Peace is made present, which founds the Mission.

Jesus did not assure easy life. But the "closed doors" indicate that the Risen One has not returned to his former existence: he has been introduced into the divine condition, into a total form of life.

The complete configuration of his being is not in the order of flesh and bones; it eludes our senses.

"Resurrection of the flesh" is not equivalent to the improvement of previous conditions. From a man [as from a seed] there has blossomed a form of life that subsists in God himself.

The disciples rejoice at seeing the wounds (v.20). The reaction is not surprising: it is the perception-vertigo of Presence, springing up and pouring out from inner senses.

The Risen One who reveals Himself is the same Jesus who delivered the gift of life, in the Spirit.

The Father's World bears his Name - that is, the whole of his history, all real.

The heavenly world no longer remains that of religions. It is not exclusive, nor fanciful or abstract; neither is it sterilised.

The Manifestation is placed on "the one of the Sabbaths" (v.19) to say that the disciples can meet and see the Risen One every time they come together on the Lord's Day.

Thanks to the Gift of the Spirit (v.22) his people are sent on Mission, to continue and expand the Master's work - insisting in particular on the work of remission of sins (v.23).

At the time, there was a widespread notion that men acted badly and allowed themselves to be contaminated by idols, because they were driven by an unclean instinct that began to manifest itself at an early age.

One was under the illusion that one could conquer or at least keep such an evil spirit at bay with the study of the Torah - but it was easy to see the failures: the indications of the Law, though right, did not give one the strength to tread that path.

After so many failures even of kings and the entire priestly class, God himself was expected to come, precisely to free us from impurities, through the outpouring of a good impulse.

Throughout the ancient world [also in classical culture: especially Ovid] people wondered about the meaning of this creaturely block.

Inwardly, humanity found itself united and torn between intuition and desire for goodness, and inability to implement it (cf. Rom 7:15-19).

No religion or philosophy had ever realised that it is in the discomfort and imperfection that the most precious mouldable energies, our uniqueness, and the non-conformist solution to problems lie.

Through the mouth of the Prophets, God had promised the gift of a new heart - of flesh and not of stone (Ez 36:25-27).

An outpouring of the Spirit that would renew the world, enliven the desert and make it fruitful.

On Easter Day the prophecies were fulfilled.

The "breath" of Christ recalls the moment of Creation (Gen 2:7; cf. Ez 37:7-14).

We are at the origin of a new humanity of mothers and fathers who generate - now able to make only life appear, eliminating death from the face of the earth.

Jesus creates the new man, no longer a victim of the invincible forces that lead him to evil, despite his profound aspirations.

He conveys a resourceful, clear, alternative, self-confident energy that spontaneously impels to goodness.

Where this Spirit comes, sin is annihilated.

It was the first ecclesial experience: the unmistakable action of divine power, which became present and operative in fearful and unregarded people.

Throughout the book of Acts of the Apostles, the protagonist is precisely the impetuous Wind of the Spirit.

So far, the concept of forgiveness of sins was missing in Jn. But the meaning of the expression in v.23 is not strictly sacramental.

Neutralising and defeating defaults affects everyone who gets involved in the work of improving life in the world.

In short, we are called to create the conditions so that by tilling the soil of hearts, everyone opens up to divine action.

Conversely, the inability to do good drags on: in this way, sin is not 'remitted'.

The Shalôm received by the disciples is to be announced by them and transmitted to the world.

It is a Peace that is not the worldly fruit of weighed and cunning compromises: the only powerful means to be used is forgiveness.

Not so much for the sake of tranquillity and 'permanence', but to introduce unknown powers, to accentuate life, to bring out the aspects we have not given space to; to convey a sense of adequacy and freedom.

In each one and for all times, the Church is called to make the Lord's complete and personal Gratis effective.As a Gift in the Spirit: without ever 'holding back' (v.23) the problems, nor making them paradoxical protagonists of life [even of assembly].

Such is the priestly, royal and prophetic dimension of the fraternal community. Such is its Newness.

Victory of the Risen One, Church of free people

Without hysteria

(Jn 20:24-31)

The passage has a liturgical flavour, but the question we glimpse in the watermark is stark. We too want to "see it".

How could one believe without having seen?

And even how could the identification of the sufferer with the bliss experienced, and the divinity itself, go without saying?

It is the most common question from the third generation of believers, who had not only not got to know the Apostles, but many of them not even their pupils.

The evangelist assures us: compared to the first witnesses of the Resurrection, our condition is not at all disadvantaged, on the contrary: more open and less subject to conditioning or special circumstances.

We must go deeper than the immediate experience.

Even the direct disciples struggled, trying to switch to another vocabulary and grammar of revelation; and from 'seeing', to 'believing'.

There are unfortunately common traits, e.g. the search for Magdalene in the places of death. Or here the carefully barred doors, where one does not enter without forcing the closures - but above all significant gaps.

In particular, we reiterate the most burning question. How do we go from 'seeing' ... to 'believing' in a defeated, even subjected to torment?

We do not believe, just because there are truthful witnesses.

We are certain that life supersedes death, because we have 'seen' first-hand; because we have gone through a personal recognition.

For He does not lead the way, but repeatedly 'in between' (vv.19.26).

In the collection of the Manifestations of the Risen One [the so-called "Book of the Resurrection"] Jn designates the conditions of Easter Faith.

He expounds on the witnessing experiences of the first churches (morning and evening, and eight days later) and of the disciples who accepted the missionary mandate.

Then as now, perceiving the realities hidden to the mere eye, internalising the readiness to make an exodus to the peripheries, depends on the depth of Faith.

Nor does it follow that we are willing to gamble our lives, to build a kingdom with values reversed from the common, ancient, imperial religious values.

By the time the Thomas episode is written, the dimension of the eighth day [Dies Domini] already had a prevailing configuration, as opposed to the radically Judaizing early Messianic Sabbath.

"Shalôm" is, however, still understood in the ancient sense: it is not a wish, but the present fulfilment of the divine Promises.

Messianic "Peace" would have evoked the undoing of fears, deliverance from death; reconciliation with one's life, the world, and God.

"Shalôm" - here - comes to surprise us: it comes from the gift of self carried to the depths; beyond, the capabilities.

The wounds are part of the character of the Risen One.

Any image that does not make explicit the signs of the excessive gratuitousness of the new kingdom inaugurated by Christ [even the gilded bronze sculpture in the Nervi Hall] is misleading.

Joy comes from the perception of the Presence 'beyond' biological life.

Our happiness is diminished and lost if we lose the Witness of life - through whom every slightest gesture or state of mind (even fear) becomes unveiling, meaning, intensity of relationship.

Reaching out into the world, the Sent Ones embrace the same mission as Jesus: that all may be saved.

And the gift of the working Spirit is precisely like the beginning of a new creation.

In fact, the Johannine Pentecost springs from the unprecedented and genuine perspective of salvation: loving, serene, not 'whole', nor forced.

On closer inspection, according to the book of Acts, Peter's preaching provokes a ruckus of conversions. In Jn everything is conversely discreet: no roar or fire and storm; nothing appears from outside, nor does it remain external.

They are apostles empowered to open locked doors, and to arrange the conditions of gratuitousness.

This with passive rather than active virtues; e.g. 'forgiveness', where there is none. 

In this way, all gratuitousness to lift people out of any problems, so that good triumphs over evil and life over death.

All in the concrete, therefore through a process that demands time; like walking a Way.

Intensity of a very 'different' nature, to which our contemplation alone is suited - in comparison with the more propagandistic and less collected literature of Acts 2, where the reflections of unbelief and doubt disappear.

As if the identity of the Crucified and Risen Jesus was no problem at all!

And in the Fourth Gospel, the concept of 'forgiveness of sins' has so far been missing.

But precisely, it is necessary to move from ocular "vision" to Faith.The Son's new way of life is known in the life of the Church, but it is best and fully accessible only to those who, although a little inside and a little outside, do not remain in the closures.

Thomas is chosen by Jn as the junction point between generations of believers.

Like everyone else, he is not an indifferent sceptic: he is not afraid of the world, rather he wants to verify, to scrutinise well.

In him Jesus launches his appreciation towards future believers, who will recognise his divine status on the basis of their own experience - as profound as it is intensely lived.

There is perhaps an elite part of the authentic Church, yet held together by fear (v.19).

Not only because the warrant of arrest always hangs over the true witnesses. Also out of fear of confrontation with the world, or out of incapacity for dialogue.

Even today: fear of culture, of science, of Bible studies, of emancipation, of philosophical, ecumenical, interreligious confrontation; and so on.

Thomas is not afraid to stand outside the barred doors.

It does not retreat and does not fear the encounter, the relationship with life that pulsates and comes.

In this sense it is 'said twin' [δίδυμο] of each one - and of Jesus.

Our context resembles that of the small Johannine realities of Asia Minor, lost in the immensity of the Roman empire; sometimes seduced by its attractions.

Ephesus in particular had hundreds of thousands of inhabitants.

A commercial emporium, banking centre and major cosmopolitan city [the centrepiece of which was of course the great Temple of Artemis - wonder of the ancient world] it was the fourth city of the empire.

There were many distractions.

Already in the first generations of believers, routine began to take over: the fervour of the beginnings was fading; participation became sporadic.

Under Domitian, believers also suffered marginalisation and discrimination.

Some believers were then disappointed by the closed and monologue attitude of the community leaders. Others by ambiguous internal grey areas and a mixture of compromises (especially of those in charge) that discouraged the most sensitive.

Even today, one of the discriminating elements in the ability to manifest the Risen One Present remains the direct encounter with brothers and sisters, within a living solidarity.

Coexistence not held hostage by confined circles, integrating members only on the nomination of those already in office.

People were surprised and challenged in their ability to think and debate.

Women and men who are themselves, and make others breathe.

Not indoctrinated and plagiarised gullible people - or spineless sophisticates.

Sisters and brothers who spend their material resources and wisdom, according to their particular history and sensitivity.

Where everyone as he is and where he is - real in the round, not disassociated from himself - makes food for others with the crumbs he has.

Here then is 'recognition': it is a question not of obedience to an abstract world, but of personal likeness.

It is a matter of attuning our physiognomy and our little 'actions' to the Source of Love consumed to the full [our 'finger' and its 'Hands'; our 'hand' and its 'pierced side'].

Even with our limitations, we 'enter into the wounds'. By attraction, Faith will spring forth spontaneously (v.28).

Thus (vv.29-31 and 21:25) John invites each one to write his own personal gospel.

When our works are at least a little the same as Christ's, everyone will 'see' him.

Is there, then, evidence that Jesus lives?

Of course, He manifests Himself concretely in an assembly of non-conformist people; who are themselves.

Souls endowed with the capacity for autonomous thought. "His and Thomas' 'twins'.

Free creatures to be in the world; outside the locked doors - to listen, to come down, to serve.

And do so with conviction: personally, without forcing or hysteria.

We too want to 'see' Him.