The defence of the little flock, and the whole People becoming Shepherds

(Jn 10:11-18)

At the beginning of chapter 10 Jn lays bare the difference between the true shepherd and the thief [rapacious and profiteering false leaders who do not care about the lives of others].

The authentic leader cares for the little flock, exposes himself to defend it and make it prosper; he leads it to water, and to green pastures.

Thus, from the initial simile of the Gate, Jesus moves on to the comparison of the Shepherd who defends the wandering flock and easy prey to bullies.

People instinctively grasp who is the true guide, in the variations of season and transhumance: they have an immediate, vibrant existential perception.

Women and men of the people always have a far more reliable practical discernment than the artificial, contemptuous discernment of the official authorities they suppose themselves to have.

None of them would give or risk anything for the life of the flock entrusted to them, whom they considered ignorant, marked for life; cursed (Jn 7:49. 9:34).

On the strength of this fineness of concrete intelligence, here is the goal at which Jesus aims in the gift of himself: it is the flock itself that will become Shepherd (v.16b).

So also Christ's flock-shepherd will not dodge the blows, nor will he be passive and conformist - but like Him: bold and outspoken.

This surprise adds a further opening of horizon, which we would call universal ecclesiology.

A disturbing prospect for opportunists and those satiated by the “buildings” set up by religion - and its induced trade - alarmed only by those constructed in the Faith.

But the Lord snatches us from the wolves.

Moreover, he does not limit himself to the crowds that are close to him.

The call and care of the authentic Shepherd crosses any boundary; not just the artificial and crafty one of the Temple.

God's vocation concerns even people still far from sacred precincts (v.16a Greek text), who are also considered necessary and full members of his People.

The new principle of belonging is Listening (v.3): immediacy even of one's own intimate and natural life instincts.

This is worth more than a soul already cleansed of error, or a flawless crowd.

Such is the creaturely and spontaneous prelude of mutual Communion [conviviality of differences] that supplants ancient religious affiliations.

«The Shepherd, the beautiful one, lays down his life for the sheep» (v.11): He has a style that overturns the greedy, pyramidal chain of command.

The Living Faith fraternities had well understood that existing in the Spirit of Christ and the life of the soul had unexpected implications - completely incompatible with the attachment to the ephemeral that the official authorities allowed themselves.

The irreverent Lucian of Samosata (120-190) gives a very significant glimpse of this originality - still in its infancy - which brings out the simplicity, the climate of mutual trust and the quality of life of the first believers, led by the good example of community leaders.

The well-known satirical author, who was opposed to superstitions and credulity among which he counted Christianity, bears indirect and paradoxical testimony to why the unexpected proposal of Sharing from the church co-ordinators - so alternative, incomprehensibly magnanimous and liberal - was recognised.

In light-hearted language that still makes us think of the distance to the ideal, despite the millennia that have passed - the ancient Greek-Syrian writer acutely described the concrete impact of the Faith in the true God, which he noticed was becoming increasingly widespread among the people.

Jesus wanted the establishment of an alternative society - non top-down, not exclusive, rather capable of happy Coexistence - the people's heart could be leveraged, starting with the testimony of authentic ‘teachers’.

In «The Death of Peregrinus» [De morte Peregrini, 13] the 2nd century polemicist expresses himself thus:

«Their first Lawgiver persuades them that they are all brothers to each other, and as they convert, denying the Greek gods, they worship that wise man crucified, and live according to his laws. For such they despise all goods equally and believe them to be common and do not care when they have them. Therefore if a shrewd impostor arose among them who knew how to handle them well, he would immediately become rich, mocking these gullible and foolish people».

It seemed madness for the ideal of the Hellenist, individualist and self-made man, as well as for the very image of a friend of God deserving of glory and courtesies - therefore his protégé in 'blessings” [a conviction that unfortunately remains almost unchanged].

But as can be seen between the lines, the new ‘guides’ in Christ were indeed beginning to supplant the credibility of other leaders who were more renowned in culture, yet far less interested in the reality of people.

In the lives of ‘Christians’, a balance, a coming together, a well-being and a «Way of wholeness» quite different from that of the ancient sterilised, one-sided 'perfection' became evident.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, dear Ordinands

At this hour in which you, dear friends, through the Sacrament of Priestly Ordination, are being introduced as shepherds into the service of the great Shepherd Jesus Christ, it is the Lord himself who in the Gospel speaks to us of service to the flock of God. The image of the shepherd comes from afar. In the ancient East, kings used to designate themselves as shepherds of their peoples. In the Old Testament Moses and David, before being called to become leaders and shepherds of the People of God, had actually been shepherds of flocks. In the travails of the period of exile, faced with the failure of the shepherds of Israel, that is, of the political and religious leaders, Ezekiel had traced the image of God himself as the Shepherd of his people. God says through the prophet: "As a shepherd reviews his flock ..., so I will review my sheep and gather them from all the places where they were scattered in the days of cloud and gloom" (Ez 34:12). Now Jesus announces that this hour has come: he himself is the Good Shepherd in whom God himself cares for his creature, man, gathering human beings and leading them to the true pasture. St Peter, to whom the risen Lord had given the task of shepherding His sheep, of becoming a shepherd with Him and for Him, describes Jesus as the "archipoimen" - the archpastor (cf. 1 Peter 5:4), and by this he means that one can only be a shepherd of the flock of Jesus Christ through Him and in the most intimate communion with Him. It is precisely this that is expressed in the Sacrament of Ordination: the priest through the Sacrament is totally incorporated into Christ so that, starting from Him and acting in view of Him, he carries out in communion with Him the service of the one Shepherd Jesus, in whom God, as man, wants to be our Shepherd.

The Gospel we have heard on this Sunday is only a part of Jesus' great discourse on shepherds. In this passage the Lord tells us three things about the true shepherd: he lays down his life for the sheep; he knows them and they know him; he is at the service of unity. Before reflecting on these three essential characteristics of being a shepherd, it will perhaps be useful to recall briefly the previous part of the discourse on shepherds in which Jesus, before designating Himself as Shepherd, says to our surprise: "I am the door" (Jn 10:7). It is through Him that one must enter into the shepherding service. Jesus emphasises this basic condition very clearly by saying: "Whoever... goes up another way is a thief and a robber" (Jn 10:1). This word 'climb' - 'anabainei' in Greek - conjures up the image of someone climbing over the fence to reach, by climbing over, where he legitimately could not reach. "Rising" - we can also see here the image of careerism, of the attempt to get "to the top", to get a position through the Church: serving, not serving. It is the image of the man who, through the priesthood, wants to make himself important, to become a personage; the image of the man who aims at his own exaltation and not at the humble service of Jesus Christ. But the only legitimate ascent to the shepherd's ministry is the cross. This is the true ascent, this is the true door. Not to desire to become someone personally, but instead to be there for the other, for Christ, and thus through Him and with Him to be there for the men He seeks, whom He wants to lead on the path of life. One enters the priesthood through the Sacrament - and that means precisely: through the donation of oneself to Christ, so that He disposes of me; so that I serve Him and follow His call, even if this should be at odds with my desires for self-fulfilment and esteem. To enter through the door, which is Christ, is to know him and love him more and more, so that our will may be united with his and our actions become one with his actions. Dear friends, for this intention we want to pray again and again, we want to strive for precisely this, that Christ may grow in us, that our union with Him may become ever deeper, so that through us it is Christ Himself who shepherds.

Let us now look more closely at Jesus' three fundamental statements about the good shepherd. The first, which with great force pervades the whole discourse on shepherds, says: the shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The mystery of the Cross lies at the heart of Jesus' service as shepherd: it is the great service He renders to us all. He gives himself, and not just in the distant past. In the sacred Eucharist he does this every day, he gives himself through our hands, he gives himself to us. For this reason, with good reason, at the centre of priestly life is the sacred Eucharist, in which Jesus' sacrifice on the cross remains continually present, truly among us. And from this we also learn what it means to celebrate the Eucharist properly: it is an encounter with the Lord who for our sake strips himself of his divine glory, allows himself to be humiliated to the point of death on a cross, and thus gives himself to each one of us. The daily Eucharist is very important for the priest, in which he exposes himself again and again to this mystery; again and again he places himself in God's hands while experiencing the joy of knowing that He is present, He welcomes me, again and again He lifts me up and carries me, He gives me His hand, Himself. The Eucharist must become a school of life for us, in which we learn to give our life. Life is not only given at the moment of death, not only in the way of martyrdom. We must give it day by day. One must learn day by day that I do not possess my life for myself. Day by day I must learn to surrender myself; to make myself available for that thing for which He, the Lord, needs me at the moment, even if other things seem more beautiful and more important to me. Give life, not take it. It is precisely in this way that we experience freedom. Freedom from ourselves, the vastness of being. Precisely so, in being useful, in being a person who is needed in the world, our life becomes important and beautiful. Only he who gives his life, finds it.

Secondly, the Lord tells us: "I know my sheep, and my sheep know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father" (John 10: 14-15). Two apparently entirely different relationships are intertwined here: the relationship between Jesus and the Father, and the relationship between Jesus and the men entrusted to Him. But both relationships go right together, because men, after all, belong to the Father and are in search of the Creator, of God. When they realise that one only speaks in one's own name and draws only from oneself, then they realise that it is too little and that he cannot be what they are looking for. Where, however, another voice resounds in a person, the voice of the Creator, of the Father, the door to the relationship that man awaits opens. So it must be in our case. First of all, we must live our relationship with Christ and through him with the Father; only then can we truly understand men, only in the light of God can we understand the depth of man. Then the listener realises that we are not talking about us, about something, but about the true Shepherd. Obviously, also encapsulated in Jesus' words is the whole practical pastoral task, to follow people, to visit them, to be open for their needs and questions. Obviously practical, concrete knowledge of the people entrusted to me is essential, and obviously it is important to understand this 'knowing' of others in the biblical sense: there is no true knowledge without love, without an inner relationship, without a deep acceptance of the other. The shepherd cannot be content with knowing names and dates. His knowing the sheep must always also be a knowing with the heart. This, however, is only possible in the end if the Lord has opened our hearts; if our knowing does not bind people to our own little private self, to our own little heart, but instead makes them feel the heart of Jesus, the heart of the Lord. It must be a knowing with the heart of Jesus and oriented towards Him, a knowing that does not bind man to me, but guides him towards Jesus, thus making him free and open. And so we too among men become neighbours. So that this way of knowing with the heart of Jesus, of not binding to me but binding to the heart of Jesus and thus creating true community, that this may be given to us, we want to pray to the Lord again and again.

Finally, the Lord speaks to us of the service of unity entrusted to the shepherd: "I have other sheep that are not of this fold; these also I must lead; they shall hear my voice and become one flock and one shepherd" (John 10: 16). It is the same thing that John repeats after the Sanhedrin's decision to kill Jesus, when Caiaphas said that it would be better if only one died for the people than for the whole nation to perish. John recognises in this word of Caiaphas a prophetic word and adds: "Jesus had to die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but also to gather together the children of God who were scattered" (11:52). The relationship between the Cross and unity is revealed; unity is paid for with the Cross. Above all, however, the universal horizon of Jesus' action emerges. If Ezekiel in his prophecy about the shepherd was aiming at the restoration of unity among the dispersed tribes of Israel (cf. Ez 34:22-24), it is now no longer only about the unification of dispersed Israel, but about the unification of all God's children, of humanity - of the Church of Jews and Gentiles. Jesus' mission concerns the whole of humanity, and therefore the Church is given a responsibility for the whole of humanity, so that it may recognise God, that God who, for all of us, in Jesus Christ became man, suffered, died and rose again. The Church must never be content with the ranks of those it has reached at some point, and say that the others are just fine: the Muslims, the Hindus, and so on. The Church cannot retreat comfortably within the limits of its own environment. He is charged with universal concern, he must be concerned for all and of all. This great task in general we must 'translate' into our respective missions. Obviously, a priest, a pastor of souls, must first and foremost concern himself with those who believe in and live with the Church, who seek in it the path of life, and who for their part, like living stones, build up the Church and thus also build up and sustain the priest. However, we must also always again - as the Lord says - go out "into the streets and along the hedges" (Lk 14:23) to bring God's invitation to his banquet also to those people who have not yet heard of it, or have not yet been inwardly touched by it. This universal service, service for unity, has many forms. Always part of this is also the commitment to the inner unity of the Church, so that it, beyond all diversity and limitations, is a sign of God's presence in the world, which alone can create such unity.

The early Church found in the sculpture of its time the figure of the shepherd carrying a sheep on his shoulders. Perhaps these images are part of the idyllic dream of country life that fascinated society at the time. But for Christians, this figure naturally became the image of the One who set out to seek the lost sheep: humanity; the image of the One who follows us even into our deserts and confusions; the image of the One who took the lost sheep, which is humanity, on his shoulders and brings it home. It has become the image of the true Shepherd Jesus Christ. To Him we entrust ourselves. To him we entrust you, dear brothers, especially at this hour, that he may lead and carry you every day; that he may help you to become, through him and with him, good shepherds of his flock. Amen!

[Pope Benedict, homily for the priestly ordination of deacons, 7 May 2006]

Christ says: "I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (Jn 10:11). We know that these words were confirmed during his passion. Christ laid down his life on the cross. And he did so with love. Above all, he wished to respond to the love of the Father, who "so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal fife" (Jn 3:16). Carrying out "this charge... received from my Father" (Jn 10:18) and revealing his love, Jesus, too, felt, in a particular way, the Father's own love. He affirms this in the same discourse, when he says: "For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life, that I may take it again" (Jn 10:17). The sacrifice on Calvary is, above all, the giving of himself; it is the gift of his life, which, remaining in the power of the Father, is restored to the Son in a splendid new form. In this way, therefore, the Resurrection is the same gift of life re-stored to the Son in return for his sacrifice. Christ is aware of this, and he expresses it also in the allegory of the Good Shepherd: "No one takes it (that is, life) from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again" (Jn 10:18).

These words plainly refer to the Resurrection, and they express all the depth of the paschal mystery.

2.  Jesus is the Good Shepherd because of the fact that he gives his life to the Father in this way: giving it back in sacrifice, he lays it down for the sheep.

Here we enter the field of a splendid and fascinating simile, already so dear to the Old Testament prophets. Here are the words of Ezekiel:

"For thus says the Lord God: Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out... I myself will be the shepherd of my sheep, and I will make them lie down" (Ez 34:11, 15; cf. Jer 31:30).

Taking up this image again, Jesus revealed an aspect of the Good Shepherd's love that the Old Testament had not yet divined: to lay down one's life for the sheep.

As is known, Jesus often used parables in his teaching to make the divine truth which he proclaimed comprehensible to men who were generally simple and accustomed to think by means of images. The image of the Pastor and of the fold was familiar to the experience of his listeners, as it still is to the mind of modern man. Even if civilization and technique are progressing by leaps and bounds, this image, however, is still present in our state of affairs. The shepherds take the sheep to the pastures (as, for example, on the Polish mountains where I come from) and remain there with them during the summer. They accompany them from one pasture to another. They watch them so that they do not go astray, and in particular they defend them from wild animals; just as we hear in the Gospel account: "the wolf snatches them (the sheep) and scatters them" (cf. Jn. 10:1.2).

The Good Shepherd, according to Christ's words, is just he who, "seeing the wolf come", does not flee, but is ready to risk his own life, struggling with the beast of prey so that none of the sheep will be lost. If he were not ready to do so, he would not be worthy of the name of Good Shepherd. He would he a hireling, but not a shepherd.

This is Jesus' allegorical discourse. Its essential meaning lies precisely in this, that "the good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (Jn 10:11); and this, in the context of the events of Holy Week, means that Jesus, dying on the cross, laid dawn his life for every man and for all men.

"He alone could do it; he alone could bear a whole world's weight, the load of a guilty world, the burden of man's sin, the accumulated debt, past, present, and to come; the sufferings which we owed but could not pay; 'in his own body on the tree of the cross' (1 Pet 2:24) 'through the eternal spirit offering himself without spot to God... to serve the living God' (Heb 9:14). Such was the deed of Christ, who gave his life for everyone: and therefore he is called the Good Shepherd" (Card. J. H. Newman, Parochial and Plain Sermons, 16, London 1899, p. 235).

By means of the paschal sacrifice, all men became his fold—because he has ensured to each one that divine and supernatural life which, since man's fall, owing to original sin, had been lost. He alone was able to restore it to man.

3.  The allegory of the Good Shepherd and, in it, the image of the fold, are of fundamental importance to understand what the Church is and what tasks she has to carry out in the history of man. Not only must the Church be a "fold", but she must actualize this mystery, which is always being accomplished between Christ and man: the mystery of the Good Shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep. This is what St Augustine says of her: "will he, who sought you first when you despised him instead of seeking him, despise you, O sheep, if you seek him? Begin, therefore, to seek him, the one who sought you first and carried you on his shoulders. Make his words come true: The sheep that belong to me listen to my voice and follow me" (Enarrationes in Psalmos, Ps LXIX, 6).

The Church, which is the People of God, is, at the same time, a historical and social reality, in which this mystery is continually renewed and actualized in different ways. And different men have their active part in this solicitude for the salvation of the world, for the sanctification of one's neighbour, which is and does not cease to be the solicitude characteristic of the Crucified and Risen Christ. Such is certainly, for example, the solicitude of parents with regard to their children. What is more, it is the solicitude of every Christian, without any difference, with regard to his neighbour, the brothers and sisters that God puts on his way.

This pastoral solicitude is, of course, particularly the vocation of pastors—priests and bishops. And they in particular must fix their eyes on the figure of the Good Shepherd, meditate on all the words spoken by Christ, and measure their own life by them.

Let us permit St Augustine to speak once more: "If only good shepherds be not lacking! Far be it from us that they should be lacking, and far be it from divine mercy not to call them forth and establish them. It is certain that if there are good sheep, there are also good shepherds: in fact it is from good sheep that good shepherds are derived." (Sermones ad populum, Sermo XLIV, XIII, 30).

4.  In accordance with the evangelical discourse on the Good Shepherd, the Church reconstructs every year in her own liturgy the life and death of St Stanislaus, Bishop of Krakow. His memory in the liturgical calendar of the Universal Church is celebrated on 11 April—the date of his death in 1079 at the hands of King Boleslas the Bold; in Poland, on the other hand, the feast of this principal Patron is traditionally celebrated on 8 May.

This year it is 900 years, nine centuries, since the moment in which—following the liturgical texts—we can repeat of him that he laid down his life for his sheep (cf. Jn 10:11). And even if this death is so distant from us in time, it keeps the eloquence of a special testimony.

In the course of history my fellow citizens united spiritually round the figure of St Stanislaus, especially in difficult periods.

In the current year, a year of Great Jubilee, as the first Polish Pope, who until a short time ago was the successor of St Stanislaus in the episcopal see of Krakow, I wish to participate in the solemnity in honour of the Patron Saint of Poland.

Together with all those who celebrate this solemnity we wish to approach again Christ the Good Shepherd, who "lays down his life for the sheep", in order that he may be our strength for future centuries and for the new generations.

[Papa Giovanni Paolo II, Udienza Generale 9 maggio 1979]

On this Fourth Sunday of Easter, called Good Shepherd Sunday, the Gospel (Jn 10:11-18) presents Jesus as the true shepherd who defends, knows and loves his sheep.

The “mercenary”, the one who does not care about the sheep because they are not his, is the opposite of the Good Shepherd. He does the job only for pay and is not concerned about defending them: when a wolf arrives, he flees and abandons them (cf vv. 12-13). Instead, Jesus, the true shepherd, defends us always and saves us in so many difficult situations, dangerous situations through the light of his word and the strength of his presence that we always experience if we want to listen, every day.

The second aspect is that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, knows — the first aspect: defend; the second: he knows his sheep and the sheep know him (v. 14). How beautiful and comforting it is to know that Jesus knows us one by one, that we are not unknown to him, that our name is known to him! We are not a “mass”, a “multitude” for him, no. We are unique individuals, each with his or her own story, he knows each of us with our own story, each one with his or her own value, both as creatures and as people redeemed by Christ. Each of us can say: Jesus, knows me!  It is true, it is like this: He knows us like no other. Only he knows what is in our hearts, our intentions, our most hidden feelings. Jesus knows our strengths and our defects, and is always ready to care for us, to heal the wounds of our errors with the abundance of his mercy. In him, the image the prophets had provided of the shepherd of the people of God is completely fulfilled: Jesus is concerned about his sheep, he gathers them, he binds their wounds, he heals their ailments. We can read this in the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (cf Ez 34:11-16).

Therefore, Jesus the Good Shepherd defends, knows, and above all loves his sheep. And this is why he gives his life for them (cf Jn 10:15). Love for his sheep, that is, for each one of us, leads him to die on the cross because this is the Father’s will — that no one should be lost. Christ’s love is not selective; it embraces everyone. He himself reminds us of this in today’s Gospel when he says: “And I have other sheep, that are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will heed my voice. So there shall be one flock, one shepherd” (Jn 10:16). These words testify to his universal concern: He is everyone’s shepherd. Jesus wants everyone to be able to receive the Father’s love and encounter God.

And the Church is called to carry on this mission of Christ. Aside from those who participate in our communities, there are many people, the majority, who do so only at particular moments or never. But this does not mean they are not God’s children: the Father entrusts everyone to Jesus the Good Shepherd, who gave his life for everyone.

Brothers and sisters, Jesus defends, knows and loves all of us. May Mary Most Holy help us be the first to welcome and follow the Good Shepherd, to joyfully cooperate in his mission.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli 25 April 2021]

«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