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

 

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

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

 

Responsorial Psalm (22/23)

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

 

+Giovanni D’Ercole

«I Am the Gate of the sheep»

(Jn 10:1-10)

 

In the pastures, during the night the sheep were sheltered in stone enclosures on a slope and the shepherds (taking turns) placed themselves in defense of the flock by huddling in the position of the door down, armed with sticks, precisely as if they were a door, impassable for thieves and predators.

Life’s assiduity allowed the flock - even of different owners - to recognize the typical call and the voice of the corresponding shepherd. Not infrequently he designated each with an individual nickname (unrepeatable according to character).

In Jerusalem the great city Gates were opened in the morning and closed at sunset. They were fundamental points of urban social life, obligatory passages to enter and exit the walls.

After decades of deportation, the end of the Babylonian empire and the edict of Cyrus, the Sheep Gate was the first to be restored and the only one consecrated, because herds flowed through it to be sacrificed to the Temple.

Jesus takes a stand and explicitly denounces the abandonment’ situation of the true flock [the people] sacrificed to the interest and logic of the institution which is not interested in people's happiness but only in the defense of privileges.

 

He is the Shepherd who walks ahead (v.4); doesn’t hide behind the scenes: he takes risks personally. The Lord doesn’t come to take, but to give in abundance. Because God is looking for his people in shortage.

His is a Call by Name (v.3): He respects personal identity, doesn’t impose abstract or unsustainable rhythms, doesn’t force the times; He assesses the conditions of each.

For the authentic Shepherd there are no anonymous crowds.

Therefore He doesn’t close us within the ancient sacred enclosures (v.1 greek text) where mass obsessions lurk. Fences equipped with a guardian and gendarmes, where all are uniform - and the sensitive soul no longer breathes, kidnapped by opportunists (v.8).

From His Gate we can go out (vv.3-9). Indeed, it’s He who forces us to overcome it (v.3 greek text).

The authentic Guide leads to a different richness, more substantial pastures, unexpected amazements.

The true Shepherd obliges to make Exodus, pushing us (with force) out of the restricted sheepfolds.

 

The guide’s authoritativeness is confirmed both by the direct knowledge of the «guardian-gatekeeper» (v.3) and by that of the people, who recognize the Word, and follow it - pushed by that Call as by a thrill within.

Christ highlights the authority he has over the people, presenting Himself with the non-transitory formula «I Am» [full of eminent and profound resonances].

And actualizing, He specifies this expression with the metaphor of the Gate - not so much to close it, but above all to open it wide and let us pass.

In this way and unlike the old guides, the small flock follows Him not out of fear or calculation, as it would do with an inflexible master, but spontaneously.

 

Taking into account the presence of obstacles (without which we cannot grow) in the even excited journey, we will experience the invisible Friend as a Master of clarity, decision, constancy, flexibility, introspection.

Recognized in the Unknown Face that lurks within each of us, we will be made aware, motivated and free - so that we may be returned to Life.

 

 

[4th Sunday in Easter (year A), April 26, 2026]

«I am the Gate of the sheep»

(Jn 10:1-10)

 

In the pastures, during the night the sheep were penned in stone pens on a slope and the shepherds (in turn) stood in defence of the flock by huddling in the position of the doorway at the bottom, armed with sticks, as if it were a door, impassable to thieves and predators.

The custom of life enabled the flock - even of different owners - to recognise the typical call and voice of the corresponding shepherd. He not infrequently designated each one with an individual nickname (unrepeatable according to character).

In Jerusalem, the great Gates of the city were opened in the morning and closed at sunset. They were fundamental points of urban social life, obligatory passages to enter and exit the walls.

After decades of deportation, the end of the Babylonian empire and the edict of Cyrus, the Sheep Gate was the first to be restored and the only one consecrated, because through it flowed the herds to be sacrificed to the Temple.

Because of the social paralysis and alienation of the wretched, the motto 'restoring communion with God' - the criterion for the rebuilding of the Temple and the Holy City - meant for Jesus to take a different point of view.

He takes a stand and explicitly denounces the degradation of the true flock sacrificed to the interest and logic of the official religious institution, which is not interested in people's happiness but only in defending privileges.

The spiritual leaders of the ancient pious life were willing to do anything to secure their usual economic status, as well as visibility, prestige, protection of property and various securities.

 

Jn 5:2 indicates a pool with five porticoes along which the sick were laid "by the Sheep Gate". Wretches who due to supposed impurity did not have access to the Temple but were laid there awaiting a miracle.

According to the Lord, it is the institution that has to serve the sick and needy, instead of oppressing them through harassment and humbug, sweetened with impressive scripts.

He is the Shepherd who walks ahead (v.4); he does not hide behind the scenes: he risks himself. He does not come to take, but to give in abundance. For God seeks his people in penury.

His is a Calling by Name (v.3): he respects personal identity, he does not impose abstract or unbearable rhythms, he does not force timing; he assesses each person's condition.

For the authentic Shepherd, there are no anonymous crowds - to be milked, sheared, and directed down to the last detail. It is He who puts His face and pays.

So he does not enclose within the ancient sacred fences (v.1 Greek text) where mass obsessions lurk. Fences equipped with guardians and gendarmes, where one is homologated - and the sensitive soul no longer breathes, seized by opportunists, thieves and bandits (v.8).

From his Door we can go out (vv.3-9). On the contrary, it is He who forces us to overcome them (v.3 Greek text).

Does it seem unbelievable? It is the more of Faith: animated by the Spirit, believing that nothing escapes God's grasp.

In synergy with the inner Friend, every authentic Guide leads to a different richness, more substantial pastures, unexpected amazements.

The true Shepherd compels us to make an Exodus, pushing us (forcefully) out of the narrow sheepfolds - bounded and installed; interventionist or overflowing with sophistication, businessmen and faux-devotees - that we must now pass over.

For a new Birth, an ever new Encounter, a more significant experience of abundant and indestructible Life (v.10): that unheard of God totally other and totally near.

 

The leaders had an attitude of rejection of Jesus and the people. Strangers and greedy, they did not call people by name.

Instead, the authority of Christ is in service and for the life of the sick - in concern for the welfare of the people.

In the Lord's view, the authority of official leaders was not legitimate: because it was made up of climbing and ruthlessness, based on an interpretation of codes that did not liberate people but made them subservient - pigeonholed and incapable of reinventing themselves.

Their pursuit of advantage conflicted with the interests of the dispossessed, kept far away and in the fence. Jesus, on the other hand, makes himself a Gate, that is, a legitimate shepherd, who cares for the flock and knows it intimately.

He feels it to be His, and He comes not to serve and profit from it, but to make them happy - having a loving knowledge of each one. He is not a shepherd-king, but a life-giving shepherd.

The authoritativeness of the guide is corroborated both by the direct knowledge of the "gatekeeper-keeper" (v.3) and by that of the people, who recognise his Word, and follow him - driven by that call as by a tremor within.

 

Throughout the complex redaction of the Fourth Gospel, many believers had by then abandoned obedience to the law (as expounded by the rabbis): the old masters were no longer followed as before.

E.g. The man born blind does not accept the opinion of the albeit popular religious leaders (Jn 9) who accused the Master of being a sinner (v.24). Thus he embarks on a progressive journey of awareness and emancipation.

Christ emphasises the authority he has over the people, presenting himself with the non-transitory formula "I Am" [filled with eminent and profound resonances].

And bringing this expression up to date, he clarifies it with the metaphor of the Door - not so much to close it, but first of all to open it wide and let it pass.

In this way and unlike the old guides, the little flock follows him not out of fear or calculation, as they would an inflexible master, but spontaneously.

 

By taking into account the presence of obstacles (without which one does not grow) on the journey, even a frantic one, we will experience the invisible Friend as the Master of clarity, decision, constancy, flexibility, introspection.

Recognised in the unknown face within each one of us, we will be made closely aware, motivated and free - so that we are rendered to life.

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

The Liturgy of the Fourth Sunday of Easter presents to us one of the most beautiful images that has portrayed the Lord Jesus since the earliest centuries of the Church: the Good Shepherd. The Gospel of St John, in chapter 10, describes the special features of the relationship between Christ the Good Shepherd and his flock, a relationship so close that no one will ever be able to snatch sheep from his hand. Indeed, the sheep are united to him by a bond of love and of reciprocal knowledge, which guarantees to them the immeasurable gift of eternal life.

At the same time, the flock’s attitude to the Good Shepherd, Christ, is presented by the Evangelist with two specific verbs: “to listen” and “to follow”. These terms suggest the fundamental characteristics of those who live out the following of the Lord. 

First of all by listening to his word, from which faith is born and by which it is nurtured. Only those who are attentive to the Lord’s voice can assess in their own conscience the right decisions for acting in accordance with God. Thus the following of Jesus derives from listening: we act as disciples only after hearing and inwardly accepting the Master’s teachings in order to put them into practice every day.

[Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli, 15 May 2011]

1. “Hodie natus est nobis Salvator mundi” (Responsorial Psalm).

For twenty centuries this joyful proclamation has burst forth from the heart of the Church. On this holy night the Angel repeats it to us, the men and women living at the end of a millennium: “Be not afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy... to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour” (Lk 2:10-11). We have prepared to welcome these comforting words during the season of Advent: in them the “today” of our redemption becomes a reality. 

At this hour, the word “today” rings out with a unique sound: it is not only the commemoration of the birth of the Redeemer; it is the solemn beginning of the Great Jubilee. We are spiritually linked to that unique moment of history when God became man, taking to himself our flesh. 

Yes, the Son of God, of one being with the Father, God from God and Light from Light, eternally begotten of the Father, became incarnate from the Virgin Mary and assumed our human nature. He was born in time. God entered history. The incomparable eternal “today” of God has become present in everyday human life.

2. “Hodie natus est nobis Salvator mundi” (cf. Lk 2:10-11).

We fall down in adoration before the Son of God. We unite ourselves in spirit to the wonder of Mary and Joseph. As we adore Christ, born in a stable, we make our own the faith, filled with astonishment, of the shepherds of that time; we feel their same amazement and their same joy. 

It is difficult not to be overcome by the eloquence of this event: we remain enthralled. We are witnesses of that instant of love which unites the eternal to history: the “today” which begins the time of jubilation and hope, for “to us a son is given; and dominion is laid upon his shoulders” (Is 9:6), as we read in the text of Isaiah.

At the feet of the Word Incarnate let us place our joys and fears, our tears and hopes. Only in Christ, the new man, is true light shed upon the mystery of human existence.

With the Apostle Paul, let us contemplate the fact that in Bethlehem “the grace of God has appeared for the salvation of all” (Titus 2:11). This is the reason why on Christmas Night songs of joy ring out in every corner of the earth, in every language.

3. Tonight, before our eyes we see fulfilled what the Gospel proclaims: “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him... might have eternal life” (Jn 3:16).

His Only-begotten Son!

You O Christ, are the Only-begotten Son of the living God, come among us in the stable of Bethlehem! After two thousand years, we re-live this mystery as a unique and unrepeatable event. Among all the children of men, all the children born into the world down the centuries, you alone are the Son of God: in an ineffable way, your birth has changed the course of human events.

This is the truth which on this night the Church wants to pass on to the third millennium. And may all you who will come after us accept this truth, which has totally changed history. Ever since the night of Bethlehem, humanity knows that God became Man: he became Man in order to give man a share in his divine nature.

4. You are the Christ, the Son of the living God! On the threshold of the third millennium, the Church greets you, the Son of God, who have come into the world to triumph over death. You have come to illuminate human life through the Gospel. The Church greets you and with you she wishes to enter the third millennium. You are our hope. You alone have words of eternal life.

You who came into the world on Bethlehem night, remain with us!

You who are the Way, and the Truth, and the Life, guide us!

You who came from the Father, lead us to him in the Holy Spirit, along the path which you alone know and which you have revealed to us, that we might have life and have it in abundance.

You O Christ, the Son of the living God, be for us the Door!

Be for us the true Door, symbolized by the door which on this Night we have solemnly opened!

Be for us the Door which leads us into the mystery of the Father. Grant that no one may remain outside his embrace of mercy and peace!

“Hodie natus est nobis Salvator mundi”: it is Christ who is our only Saviour! This is the message of Christmas 1999: the “today” of this Holy Night begins the Great Jubilee.

Mary, dawn of the new times, be at our side as we trustingly take our first steps into the Jubilee Year! Amen!

[Pope John Paul II, homily, 24 December 1999]

 

 

The humble symbol of a door which opens bears in itself an extraordinary wealth of meaning:  it proclaims to all that Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth and the Life (Jn 14: 6). He is such for every human being. The more united we are, being recognized as disciples of Christ by loving one another as he has loved us (cf. Jn 13: 35; 15: 12), the more effective this proclamation will be. The Second Vatican Council has fittingly recalled that division openly contradicts Christ's will, scandalizes the world and damages that most holy cause, the preaching of the Gospel to every creature (Unitatis redintegratio, n. 1).

3. The unity desired by Jesus for his disciples is a sharing in the unity he has with the Father and which the Father has with him. "As you, Father, are in me, and I in you", he said at the Last Supper, "may they be one in us" (Jn 17: 21). Consequently, the Church, "a people made one in the unity of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit" (St Cyprian, De Dom. orat., 23), cannot fail to look constantly at that supreme model and principle of unity which is resplendent in the Trinitarian mystery.

The Father and the Son with the Holy Spirit are one in the distinction of Persons. Faith teaches us that, by the power of the Spirit, the Son became incarnate from the Virgin Mary and was made man (Creed). At the gates of Damascus Paul has, in the power of the Spirit, a most extraordinary experience of the incarnate, crucified and risen Christ and becomes the Apostle of the One who "emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men" (Phil 2: 7).

When he writes:  "by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body", he means to express his faith in the Incarnation of the Son of God and to reveal the particular analogy of Christ's body:  the analogy between the body of the God-man, a physical body through which our redemption was wrought, and his mystical and social body, which is the Church. Christ lives in her, making himself present through the Holy Spirit in all who form one body in him.

4. Can a body be divided? Can the Church, the Body of Christ, be divided? Ever since the first Councils, Christians have together professed "one, holy, catholic and apostolic" Church. They know, with Paul, that there is one body, one Spirit and one hope to which all are called:  "One Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of us all, who is above all and through all and in all" (Eph 4: 5-6).

In contrast to this mystery of unity, which is a gift from above, the divisions bear a historical character that attests to the human weaknesses of Christians. The Second Vatican Council recognized that divisions arose "for which, often enough, people on both sides were to blame" (Unitatis redintegratio, n. 3). In this year of grace, each of us must have a greater awareness of his own personal responsibility regarding the breaches that have marked the history of Christ's Mystical Body. This awareness is indispensable if we are to advance towards that goal which the Council described as unitatis redintegratio, the restoration of our unity.

But unity cannot be restored without inner conversion, because the desire for unity is born and grows from the renewal of mind, the love of truth, self-denial and the free outpouring of love. Thus:  conversion of heart and holiness of life, with personal and community prayer for unity, are the nucleus from which the ecumenical movement draws its strength and substance.

The longing for unity goes hand in hand with a profound ability to "sacrifice" what is personal, in order to dispose the soul to ever greater fidelity to the Gospel. Preparing ourselves for the sacrifice of unity means changing our viewpoint, broadening our horizons, knowing how to recognize the action of the Holy Spirit who is at work in our brethren, discovering new dimensions of holiness and opening ourselves to fresh aspects of Christian commitment.

If, sustained by prayer, we can renew our minds and hearts, the dialogue we are pursuing will eventually go beyond the limits of an exchange of ideas and become an exchange of gifts, a dialogue of love and truth which challenges and urges us to move ahead in order to offer God "the greatest sacrifice", which is our peace and fraternal harmony (cf. St Cyprian, De Dom. orat., n. 23).

[Pope John Paul II, homily at St Paul’s, 18 January 2000]

In the Gospel for this Sunday (cf. Jn 10:1-10), known as “Good Shepherd Sunday”, Jesus presents to us two images which complete each other. The image of the shepherd and the image of the door of the sheepfold. The flock, which is all of us, has a sheepfold as its home, which serves as a refuge, where the sheep live and rest after the toils of the journey. And the sheepfold has an enclosure with a door, where there is a gatekeeper. Different people approach the flock: there is one who enters the enclosure by the door and one who “climbs in by another way” (cf. v. 1). The first is the shepherd, the second a stranger who does not love the sheep and wants to enter for other reasons. Jesus identifies with the first and shows a familiar relationship with the sheep, expressed by his voice, by which he calls them and which they recognize and follow (cf. v. 3). He calls them, to lead them out to grassy pastures where they find good food.

The second image by which Jesus presents himself is that of the “door of the sheep” (v. 7). In fact, he says: “I am the door; if any one enters by me, he will be saved” (v. 9); that is, they “will have life and will have it abundantly” (v. 10). Christ, the Good Shepherd, became the door of mankind’s salvation, because he offered his life for his sheep.

Jesus, Good Shepherd and door of the sheep, is a leader whose authority is expressed in service, a leader who, in order to command, gives his life and does not ask others to sacrifice theirs. One can trust in a leader like this, as the sheep who heed their shepherd’s voice because they know that with him one goes to good and abundant pastures. A signal, a call suffices, and they follow; they obey; they begin to walk, guided by the voice of the One whom they feel as a friendly presence, strong and mild at once, who calls, protects, consoles and soothes.

This is how Christ is for us. There is a dimension of the Christian experience, that perhaps we leave somewhat in the shadows: the spiritual and affective dimension. Feeling connected to the Lord by a special bond, as sheep to their shepherd. At times we rationalize faith too much and we run the risk of losing the perception of the timbre of that voice, of the voice of Jesus the Good Shepherd, which motivates and fascinates. This is what happened to the two disciples of Emmaus, whose hearts burned as the Risen One spoke along the way. It is the wondrous experience of feeling loved by Jesus. Ask yourselves the question: “Do I feel loved by Jesus? Do I feel loved by Jesus?”. To him we are never strangers, but friends and brothers. Yet it is not always easy to discern the Good Shepherd’s voice. Be careful. There is always the risk of being distracted by the din of so many other voices. Today we are invited not to let ourselves be distracted by the false wisdom of this world, but to follow Jesus, the Risen One, as the one sure guide who gives meaning to our life.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli, 7 May 2017]

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

(Mk 16:15-20)

 

The premises of today's passage are not entirely edifying: Jesus rebukes the Eleven for not believing.

They have resisted stubbornly because they cultivated contrary expectations.

Adherence to the Risen One was uncertain even on the part of those who knew Him personally and lived with Him.

Despite this, God considers only obstinacy to be guilty.

The Message to be proclaimed and personally adhered to is so unusual that at first it may create reluctance and skepticism - as it was even among the apostles, leaders of the nascent Church.

They too were weak and uncertain followers who were made convinced, stronger and more decisive, in the experience of interpersonal communion [described in filigree in the same mandate (vv.17-18)].

 

Sharing within a vital fraternity produced a growing afflatus.

On the wave of this energy chain, each Seed became consciousness that gradually learnt to respond to its call and not be disturbed by poisons.

This recognition of the divine Presence in his new Face was revealed and poured out on the marginalized and the sick - the minimal and imperfect previously considered in religions to be punished by fate or even cursed by God.

The atmosphere of friendship and understanding that had supplanted social and spiritual antagonism, and the feeling of being welcomed even in precarious conditions, favoured every care, every expression of gratuitousness.

Christ has thus continued to unfold his work in history, making himself alive in the human and divine people who bear witness to Him. His influence and triumph - victorious everywhere over the germs of death.

His sole 'power'.

 

In every person or group there are decisive events, stages of regeneration and new birth.

Mk attempts to describe the change in Jesus' Presence, which continues to guide the disciples step by step even in the first hesitations following His inglorious death.

The mission seemed not precisely defined [as vice versa in ancient religious ideologies] and superior to the forces at work.

By His inspiration and power, Christ wanted to remain forever present in his disciples, manifesting Himself alive in the signs mentioned in the text.

They are not demonstrative prodigies - although since the end of the 2nd century, apologetic frenzy has wanted to impose itself on the narrative of Faith, and we too have unfortunately inherited it.

The Proclamation is accompanied by the new language of love and by its wonders, which however are not clear evidences, but a ‘glad tidings’:

The Spirit of the living Christ in the Church is bringing about another kingdom.

 

The statement in v.19 is also theological: the image recalls the customs of Eastern courts.

Here it is useful to express God's inverse judgement of the Son's earthly defeat - and of His own intimates.

The concluding verse finally testifies to the disciples' conviction that they have the Lord beside them, that they are not alone and orphaned.

In this way and in the Spirit of genuine selflessness, the Resurrection has become a fact that spans time, right up to today.

Intimate Mystery and Wonder, our 'breath' and impetus - that the world may be a place conducive to the fullness of life for all.

 

 

[St Mark the Apostle and Evangelist, April 25]

Mk 16:15-20 (9-20)

 

The unthinkable news to the contrary, and the unbelief of the Apostles

(Mk 16:9-15)

 

"How universal is the great Way! He can be on the left as well as the right" [Tao Tê Ching (xxxiv)].

 

Despite their difficulty in believing, the disciples are made heralds of the News of God.

Glad tidings favourable to mankind that intends to journey towards itself - without the baggage of the overwhelming accumulations of tradition, or the conditioning of fashions.

Jesus brings out the transmutative capacities already in the dowry of each one, for communion with God and one's brothers and sisters, in the journey of life and the sense of rebirth that lurks therein.

His Person and vicissitude teaches us that all this develops after pain, travails, experiences of rejection, thoughts of failure and death ... [for us today, also in reference to new arrangements, or global crises, war, health emergency].

In such a seemingly inverted perspective, his proposal supplants the oppressive yoke of the external perfections preached by religion; replaced by our own simple family virtues, grasped from within.

Not: proselytising, setting up, fighting, but 'welcoming'. Not to 'obey' God, but to 'resemble' Him by being oneself; so on.

 

The Church should not have become an ethical communion of heroes and saints, but of sinners and undecideds.

Indeed, the story of the unbelieving apostles comforts us: we are already empowered, and with aptitude for fullness. But in its reversal.

It is the resurrection that sends us among men, precisely to be regenerated; just like us.

So the condition of the 'apostle' weaves its roots into the little by little of concrete existence.

It is not subjected to the usual doctrinal, moral, devotional rigmarole of great things; it is no longer delayed in being assumed.

Despite the fact that self-belief remains fragile, we continually experience regeneration from our wreckage - at best still bringing the entire organism of the spirit, and the inner universe, into being.

All this shapes a different consciousness of inadequacy: the one in the Faith - only positive, which understands the brothers and knows how to justify the resistance to the Announcement.

For it is in the recovery of surprises, opposites and contradictions that we have become - in our own - experts in difficulty.

In this way, more able to perceive discomfort; even feeling drained - as a preparatory energetic state.

Then we have learnt the listening to emotions: even the feeling of being overwhelmed - even in ideas.

As well as the need to grasp or lose oneself in sorrows, even unbearable ones.

And not fearing solitude, the key to accessing the treasures of one's own eccentricity and Calling by Name.

 

In short, for the purpose of vocational fulfilment, everyone is already perfect.

In its bearer of dissimilar energies, it just has to learn to meet the sides of itself that it has not yet given space to.

As if within us we have a multiplicity of 'faces' - often all to be discovered, behind some shell that resists.

They are malleable energies, powers, other arrangements; occasions that complement, and infallibly lead to personal and social blossoming.

Here we pass from death-resurrection experience to true witness, in the spontaneous frankness of having been enabled as evangelisers.

Which surprises us. But now the Message makes a body with ourselves.

A call for peace, however explosive - unbelievable, and we see this more from the limits (now nothing to fear) than from the ability to set up cathedrals and showcases.

After Christ, one no longer has to 'improve' in the common sense.

There is no waiting and purpose à la page, or looking to and drinking from the fountain of the past. They then place us in the same predictable situation as always.

For the shaky disciples, religion was self-denial at its core.

Conversely, the vocation became the development of what each person was in his or her innermost being, and had not given himself or herself: the path of self-realisation in contributing to the brothers.

The only convincing weapon is genuineness: frankness that burns within to make us unconscious and incomplete, yet living, shrines.

Only way to meet souls.

 

The churches of the first generation were small realities lost in the immensity of the empire. Minimal communities 'in the midst' of the vastness of a world marked by different principles.

Popular fraternities animated by a passion that made them a visible witness and manifestation of the life of the Risen One.

The spirit of the origins was the only proof and possibility of recognition of Christ.

Then, to defend themselves against criticism, lists of 'apparitions' began to appear, but only from the second generation of believers.

Does it no longer appear today? No, he still manifests himself in his people.

This is the whole game.

The difficulty in accepting the convincing signs of the Presence of Jesus and his own Spirit can be overcome.Not with organisation, which weakens uniqueness. There is no living here. Not with perfectionism, which boycotts the expression of our qualities.

But through the conviviality of differences, and by announcing "to all" the "good news" (v.15) that the Lord goes beyond the experience of what is already known.

"Go": if one does not do Exodus, one does not unleash the Spirit. We must not lose ourselves in the search for external consensus.

It is within a non-selective Path that we learn to transform our discomforts into valuable resources to face the future.

The Good News to be proclaimed is: the Father is loving; he wants to care.

Exactly the opposite of what the false leaders of both Judaism and any culture of the empire preached.

Not a leech God who depersonalises; conversely, a Father who gives.

Not the God of religion, who waits for the reckoning. For he accentuates transmutations.

He is the Root of Being and the Founding Relation. Gift that ceaselessly comes to activate the exuberance of flourishing.

Not a grey Lawgiver and compassionate Judge, who imposes rules or punishes - to keep everyone in check.

The Eternal One invites and transmits his own surplus - even discordant - to merge, and dilate aspects, resources, dissimilar faces. Possibility of realisation for each one.

Unthinkable, before Jesus.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

How do you overcome doubt, retreating? What do you announce with your life? Does it go beyond direct experience? Do you know realities that manifest the Risen One? How do you point out exuberant paths of hope? Or are you selective and silent?

 

 

Go into all the world and proclaim with Him

(Mk 16:15-20)

 

The appendix of Mark (16:9-20) presents some manifestations of the Risen One and the assumption into heaven.

It is the so-called Ascension (v.19) or the Passover of Christ according to the Semitic category of royal enthronement.

The text reflects a charismatic environment that suggests a very primitive community, less configured than in other Gospels [less articulated in: leaders, tasks, discipleship, liturgical signs, and discipline].

The premise of today's passage is not entirely edifying: Jesus rebukes the Eleven for not believing.

They have historically resisted stubbornly because they cultivated contrary expectations.

Mk insists.

The transmission of the Faith does indeed pass through particular and prophetic figures. It spreads through very small fraternities with particular sensitivities. But even the least critical witnesses are not to be discouraged.

Adherence to the Risen One was uncertain even by those who knew him personally and lived with him.

Despite this, God only considers obstinacy guilty.

The Message to be announced and adhered to in the first person is so unusual that at first it can create reluctance and scepticism - as was even the case among the apostles, leaders of the nascent Church.

They too were weak and uncertain who were made convinced, stronger and more decisive, by Gift; in the experience of interpersonal communion, described in filigree in the same mandate (vv.17-18).

Sharing within a vital fraternity has however produced new perceptions - more rooted in being - and a growing afflatus.

Thus on the wave like an energy chain, each Seed has become aware that it has gradually learnt to respond to his call and not be disturbed by poisons.

This recognition of the divine Presence in his new Face was revealed and poured out on the marginalised and the sick - the lowly and imperfect previously considered in religions to be punished by fate or even cursed by God.

The atmosphere of friendship and understanding that had supplanted social and spiritual antagonism, and the feeling of being welcomed even in precarious conditions, favoured every care, every expression of gratuitousness.

Christ has thus continued to unfold his work in history, making himself alive in the human and divine people who bear witness to him. His influence and triumph - victorious everywhere over the germs of death.

His only "power".

 

In every person or group there are decisive events, stages of regeneration and new birth.

Mk attempts to describe the change in Jesus' presence, which continues to guide the disciples step by step even in the first hesitations following his inglorious death.

The mission seemed not precisely defined [as vice versa in religious ideologies] and superior to the forces at work.

By his inspiration and power, Christ wanted to remain forever present in his disciples, manifesting himself alive in the signs mentioned in the text.

They are not demonstrative prodigies - although since the end of the 2nd century apologetic eagerness has wanted to impose itself on the narrative of faith, and we too have unfortunately inherited it.The Announcement is accompanied by the new language of love and its wonders:

The Spirit of the living Christ in the Church is bringing about another kingdom.

 

The statement in v.19 is also theological. The image recalls the customs of the Eastern courts.

Here it is useful to express God's inverse judgement of the Son's earthly defeat - and of His own.

Then, the concluding verse of the Gospel according to Mark finally testifies to the disciples' conviction that they have the Lord beside them, that they are not alone and orphaned.

 

In this way and in the Spirit of genuine selflessness, the Resurrection has become a fact that spans time, right up to today.

Intimate mystery and wonder, our 'breath' and impetus - so that the world may be a favourable place for the fullness of life for all.

 

 

Humble for great things: salus animarum vs salus idearum

 

Magnanimity in humility. This is the way of life of the Christian who really wants to be a witness to the gospel to the ends of the earth. The contours of this way of being "missionaries in the Church" were outlined by Pope Francis this morning, Thursday 25 April, during the now customary celebration of Mass in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae [...].

As always, the Pontiff commented on the day's readings, taken from the first letter of St Peter (5:5-14) and from the Gospel of Mark (16:15-20). "Jesus, before ascending to heaven, sends the apostles to evangelise, to preach the kingdom. He sends them to the end of the world. "Go into the whole world," he began. And he went on to emphasise the universality of the Church's mission, highlighting the fact that Jesus does not tell the apostles to go to Jerusalem or Galilee, but sends them all over the world. Thus, it opens up a great horizon. From this we can understand the true dimension of the 'missionary nature of the Church', which goes forth preaching 'to the whole world. But,' the Pope warned, 'she does not go alone; she goes with Jesus'.

So the apostles went out and preached everywhere. But "the Lord," he pointed out, "worked together with them. The Lord works with all those who preach the Gospel. This is the magnanimity that Christians must have. A pusillanimous Christian cannot be understood. This magnanimity is proper to the Christian vocation: always more, always more; always ahead'.

However,' he warned, 'something can also happen 'that is not so Christian'. At that point, "how are we to go forward? What is the style that Jesus wants for his disciples in the preaching of the Gospel, in this missionary work?" the Pontiff asked himself. And he indicated the answer in the text of St Peter, who "explains this style a little: 'Beloved, clothe yourselves with humility, one to another, for God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble. The style of evangelical preaching goes on this attitude, humility, service, charity, fraternal love'.

The Pope then imagined the possible objection of a Christian before the Lord who proposes this style: "But Lord, we must conquer the world!". And he showed what is wrong with this attitude: 'This word, "conquer", does not go. We must preach in the world. The Christian must not be like the soldiers who, when they win the battle, sweep everything away".

At this point, Pope Francis referred to a medieval text in which it is told that the Christians, after winning a battle and conquering a city, lined up all the pagans and lined them up between the baptistery and the sword, forcing them to choose: the water, that is baptism, or the weapon, that is death. And he affirmed: "This is not the Christian's style. Its style is that of Jesus, humble'.

The Christian,' he explained, 'preaches, announces the Gospel with his testimony more than with words. A wise bishop from Italy said to me a few days ago: 'Sometimes we get confused and think that our evangelical preaching must be a salus idearum and not a salus animarum, the health of ideas and not the health of souls. But how does one get to the health of souls? With humility, with charity. St Thomas has a beautiful phrase on this: 'It is like going towards that horizon that never ends because it is always a horizon'. So how do we proceed with this Christian attitude? He says do not be afraid of great things. By going forward, taking into account even the small things. This is divine. It is like a tension between the great and the small; both, this is Christian. Christian missionary work, the preaching of the Gospel of the Church, goes this way'.

The confirmation is in Mark's gospel. The Pope noted it: 'You cannot proceed in any other way. And in the Gospel, at the end, there is a beautiful sentence when it says that Jesus acted together with them and 'confirmed the word with the signs that accompanied it'. When we go with this magnanimity and also with this humility, when we are not afraid of the big things, of this horizon, but we also take on the small things, such as humility and daily charity, the Lord confirms the Word and we go forward. The triumph of the Church is the resurrection of Jesus. There is the cross first".

"Let us ask the Lord today," he concluded, "to become missionaries in the Church, apostles in the Church, but with this spirit: great magnanimity and also great humility".

(Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 26/04/2013)

 

 

The Victory of the Risen One is his People, in the care of creation

 

[Gospel of the Conversion of St Paul].

(Mk 16:15-18)

 

Paul - who is us - manages to free himself from the fetters of subservience to an antiquated and selective religion. He discovers the joy of living.

Strict tradition is supplanted, along with all its false and empty ideal of perfection (individualist or circle).

He sees opportunity, fully. He encounters and intuits the best, which persuades him to throw himself into the risk of a life of Faith.

He recognises the Love that well disposes, humanises, intimately convinces because it recovers, reintegrates and makes differences and opposites convivial.

Here he discovers the authentic divine trait. Qualities that surpass the pharisaic - only sterilising - purity norms he had hastily adhered to.

All this dismantles him, makes him experience another Kingdom, which conveys a different Vision - with no more impossible conditions of indefectibility.

The fraternal experience of the Lord's intimates compels him: he feels he must collapse from the empyrean in which he had placed himself.

He falls not from his horse, but from the artificial pedestals of inherited belief - which did not encourage him to grow, from within.

He experiences the active dynamics of a grace that does not overpower; undeserved and prevenient - that takes the first step.

He finds it in his own lacerated inner life, and in the attentive, hospitable character of the first communities: he is fascinated by them.

 

Of course, the sudden 'conversion' can affect him in turn in a way that is just as radical, passionate... and opposite to the 'starchy' choices.

The excessive, dizzying sense - perhaps otherwise one-sided, 'reformers' - can be typical of reversals from the previous plastered conformity.

And it can again become one-sided.

But indeed, as a sign of his Presence, Jesus left a free spirit.

Not vintage catwalks, nor festivals. Not even fantasies of an abstract, cerebral, disembodied world.

Not a fixed ideology, nor a relic - or particularly dedicated places and times.

In such openness, which unleashes the Spirit, we all recognise ourselves today.

Namely: in the spirit of the Exodus and in the adventurous afflatus of the Apostle of the Gentiles, who everywhere and to everyone proposed the Risen One.

He is truly Living in the work of his People who evangelise without ceasing or fence (v.15) - but to the extent that they leap from the idol of distinction to the conviviality of differences.

From oppositions and reversals, to Communion. Which is not a torrent in flood, nor a shouted attitude, because it makes room for better understanding, valuing other points of view.

 

The task appears grandiose and would seem to be beyond our strength, but in the meantime we can initiate a new atmosphere by living in a less distracted manner; precisely, by proclaiming "to every creature" (v.15).

The expression contains the invitation to open the horizons of salvation also to the whole of creation - of which we are not the masters.

After decades of land plundering and just as the world of devotions has moved on indifferently, perhaps we are beginning to understand that God is calling us to be custodians, not predators.

[Called to a totally different quality of relationship from the opportunist one we had before our eyes and perhaps helped to perpetrate - just while the churches were still packed, drowsing consciences, as well as many vital energies].

In short, the Risen One activates a new way, place and time: both to meet ourselves and people, and plants and animals.

 

The proclamation of Salvation that we are invited to proclaim continues with other very practical "signs" and messages, which, however, have nothing to do with competing with magicians and soothsayers (vv.17-18).

Unfortunately, the sense of these lines interpreted by ear risks locking the crowds into that misunderstanding that can insinuate a whole way of thinking and a style anchored to the torment of conventional spirituality, empty of content and incisiveness.

In fact, we are still passionate about the search for visions, demonstrative wonders and religion-show phenomena.

We have behind us a corpus of history that, from the second century onwards, has sought to impose an apologetic conception of 'miracles': utterly cheap shots of lightning and today grounds for righteous rejection.In essence, the "preaching of the Gospel" is not about grim things, or about exceptionalities (though plausible here and there).

Rather, it is a work of wide-ranging humanisation, thanks to which people abandon the aggressive and dangerous aspect of their nature.

This happens to this day, in favour of encounter and dialogue.

The forces of self-destruction and death are driven out - not by punctual, lightning prodigy, but by a process of content assimilation, strong friendship, exodus, and realisation.

 

Often the spiritual accompaniment of the Word and of an authentic community help people to free themselves from the obsessions of unworthiness that block life - and thus to discover personality sides and unexpressed powers.

As a commentary on the Tao Tê Ching (XLVII), Master Ho-shang Kung writes: 'The saint [...] from his own person knows the person of others, from his own family knows the family of others: from these he looks at the world'.

A completely new language blossoms in such a climate: that of welcoming and sensitive listening, the first step towards a new communication.

For example, it allows us to shift our gaze, to acquire knowledge, to get to know people we had not imagined, to frequent other regions and cultures; and so on.

The 'poisons' - even those that are not easy to identify - are rendered harmless, not because we pass over them and pretend they do not exist. We are not called to be disassociated.

He simply takes note of his own vocational character and the varied inclinations of others. Nothing that is human is only 'lethal' (v.18).

 

Thus - by letting everyone follow their own nature - we become mutually tolerant and richer, improving coexistence; without hysteria or mannerisms.

On such a vital wave, unparalleled attention to the weak, the sick, the marginalised can appear everywhere.

A wise natural attitude of caring for the least, no longer forced or imposed, but spontaneous and forthright.

Quite naturally, it is precisely the weak who are now enabled to become the centre of the family, of groups, of ministerial activity.

An institution of service, the new Church; which gradually expunges the dirigiste model of the large and self-sufficient.

In this way, our divine DNA manifests itself when we achieve impossible recoveries.

In short, we are the bearers of a force capable of recreating women and men - even desperate ones who have lost energy and self-esteem.

 

From the very beginnings, in a practical, de facto ecumenical and inter-religious style, no particular denominational affiliation has been able to annihilate the spirit of convocation and coexistence, innate in humanity in search.

In concrete terms, the Lord's proposal has always left room for singular contributions, for even instinctive powers and images, for inner struggles - not denigrated at the outset as in religions.

The Risen One has manifested and expressed himself through the Mission of his lovable Community, a place favourable to the exchange of gifts; to the settlement of distances, to profound happiness.

This was His own way of revealing the Father's Love to the world - without excessive proclamation - and remaining close to us.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

What are the signs of new life that you have been able and willing to receive, assimilate, put into action, and which correspond most to you?

 

 

Crossing cultural and religious boundaries

 

"Go into all the world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature" (Mk 16:15); "make disciples of all nations", says the Lord (Mt 28:19). With these words Jesus sends the Apostles to all creatures, so that God's saving action may reach everywhere. But if we look at the moment of Jesus' ascension into heaven, narrated in the Acts of the Apostles, we see that the disciples are still locked in their vision, thinking about the restoration of a new Davidic kingdom, and they ask the Lord, "is this the time when you will restore the kingdom for Israel?" (Acts 1:6). And how does Jesus respond? He responds by opening their horizons and giving them a promise and a task: he promises that they will be filled with the power of the Holy Spirit and gives them the task of witnessing to him throughout the world, going beyond the cultural and religious boundaries within which they were accustomed to think and live, to open themselves to the universal Kingdom of God. And at the beginning of the Church's journey, the Apostles and disciples set out without any human security, but with the sole strength of the Holy Spirit, the Gospel and faith. It is the ferment that spreads throughout the world, it enters into the different events and multiple cultural and social contexts, but it remains a single Church. Christian communities flourish around the Apostles, but they are 'the' Church, which, in Jerusalem, Antioch or Rome, is always the same, one and universal. And when the Apostles speak of the Church, they do not speak of their own community, they speak of the Church of Christ, and they insist on this unique, universal and total identity of the Catholica, which is realised in each local Church. The Church is one, holy, catholic and apostolic, reflecting in herself the source of her life and her journey: the unity and communion of the Trinity.

(Pope Benedict, address to the consistory 24 November 2012)

 

Faith that is not quiet.

Transmitted not to convince but to offer a treasure

 

St Mark, one of the four evangelists, is very close to the Apostle Peter. The Gospel of Mark was the first to be written. It is simple, a simple style, very close [...].

And in the Gospel we read now - which is the end of Mark's Gospel - there is the sending of the Lord. The Lord revealed himself as saviour, as the only Son of God; he revealed himself to all Israel, to the people, especially in more detail to the apostles, to the disciples. This is the Lord's farewell, the Lord is leaving: he departed and 'was lifted up into heaven and seated at the right hand of God' (Mk 16:19). But before he left, when he appeared to the Eleven, he said to them: 'Go into all the world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature' (Mk 16:15). There is the missionary nature of faith. Faith is either missionary or it is not faith. Faith is not just something for me to grow by faith: that is a Gnostic heresy. Faith always leads you out of yourself. Going out. The transmission of faith; faith is to be transmitted, it is to be offered, above all by witness: "Go, that people may see how you live" (cf. v. 15).

Someone said to me, a European priest, from a European city: 'There is so much unbelief, so much agnosticism in our cities, because Christians do not have faith. If they had it, they would surely give it to people'. Missionary outreach is missing. Because at root there is a lack of conviction: 'Yes, I am Christian, I am Catholic...'. As if it were a social attitude. On the identity card you call yourself so-and-so and 'I am a Christian'. It is a given on the identity card. This is not faith! This is a cultural thing. Faith necessarily takes you out, leads you to give it: because faith essentially has to be transmitted. It's not quiet. "Ah, you mean, Father, that we must all be missionaries and go to distant countries?" No, this is a part of missionary work. This means that if you have faith you necessarily have to go outside yourself, and make faith seen socially. Faith is social, it is for everyone: "Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to every creature" (v. 15). And that doesn't mean proselytising, like I'm a proselytising football team, or I'm a charitable society. No, faith is "no proselytism". It is making revelation seen, so that the Holy Spirit can act in people through witnessing: as a witness, with service. Service is a way of life. If I say that I am a Christian and live like a pagan, it is no good! That doesn't convince anyone. If I say I am a Christian and I live as a Christian, that attracts. It is witnessing.

Once, in Poland, a university student asked me: 'In the university I have many fellow atheists. What do I have to tell them to convince them?" - "Nothing, dear, nothing! The last thing you have to do is say something. Start living, and they, seeing your testimony, will ask: 'But why do you live like this?'". Faith must be transmitted: not to convince, but to offer a treasure. "It is there, you see." And this is also the humility of which St Peter spoke in the First Reading: 'Beloved, clothe yourselves all with humility towards one another, for God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble' (1 Peter 5:5). How many times in the Church, in history, have there been movements, aggregations, of men or women who wanted to convince of the faith, to convert... True 'proselytists'. And how did they end up? In corruption.

So tender is this Gospel passage! But where is the security? How can I be sure that by going out I will be fruitful in the transmission of the faith? "Proclaim the gospel to every creature" (Mk 16:15), do wonders (cf. vv. 17-18). And the Lord will be with us until the end of the world. It accompanies us. In the transmission of faith, there is always the Lord with us. In the transmission of ideology there will be teachers, but when I have an attitude of faith that must be transmitted, there is the Lord there to accompany me. Never, in the transmission of the faith, am I alone. It is the Lord with me who transmits the faith. He has promised: "I will be with you all days until the end of the world" (cf. Mt 28:20).

Let us pray to the Lord to help us live our faith in this way: faith from open doors, a transparent faith, not 'proselytising', but one that shows: 'This is who I am'. And with this healthy curiosity, you help people to receive this message that will save them.

(Pope Francis, s. Marta homily 25 April 2020)

 

 

To sum up, to internalise and live the message:

 

How do you overcome doubt, withdrawing? What do you announce with your life? Does it go beyond direct experience? Do you know realities that manifest the Risen One? How do you point out exuberant paths of hope? Or are you selective and silent?

What prodigies of salvation have you experienced? What inexplicable recoveries have you made with Jesus? Beyond the uncertainties, do you glimpse the Lord who builds his kingdom? What is your different way of being close to you?

What signs of new life have you been able to receive, assimilate, put into action, and do they most correspond to you?