2. Dear brothers and sisters! We too, at this hour, pray to the Lord: "Stay with us, for it is becoming evening and the day is already drawing to a close" (Lk 24:29). May this invitation that the disciples of Emmaus address to the Lord guide our festive liturgy today; indeed, the Gospel of this third Easter Sunday leads us on the road to Emmaus. This place is of great importance in the context of the Easter events: it is a place of encounter with Christ, a place of the apparition of the risen Lord.

In the interpretation of the Old Testament peoples, the Passover feast commemorates the "passage" of the Lord, the exodus of the Israelites from the "house of bondage" of Egypt on the way to the promised land. God himself leads, liberates and saves his people. At the beginning of this exodus there had been the sign of the lamb: its blood would mark the houses of the Israelites and save their inhabitants from the punishment of death; its flesh refreshed the Israelites at the last supper before departure.

Animated by this faith of their people, the two disciples of Emmaus had participated in the Passover feast of the Jews of Jerusalem, and had also witnessed the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. When, on the way back, the Lord had appeared to them without them immediately recognising him, he explained to them how the paschal feast of the new covenant had been foretold in the events of the Old Testament; namely, in the exodus from bondage to freedom. This exodus is now fulfilled in the passage from death to life, from sin to friendship with God. And this again happens with the help of a lamb: the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, Jesus Christ, our Redeemer. Moses and the prophets, even the whole of Scripture, already speak of him and his destiny. That is why the risen Lord could rightly ask: "Did not Christ have to endure these sufferings in order to enter into his glory?" (Lk 24:25f.).

3. Indeed, many statements in the Old Testament predict the events of the Last Supper and Golgotha. These announcements, however, would not have been fulfilled if the paschal events had not taken place at the time and in the manner predetermined by God in Jerusalem. And in spite of all this, Jesus' disciples did not immediately recognise the dramatic and touching event they experienced with their Master during the Passover feast of the Jews in its true meaning and deepest truth. They found it difficult to "believe the word of the prophets" (Lk 24:25f.). This truth was so difficult to recognise for them, who were accustomed to a different understanding of the sacred Scriptures. Why should the Messiah have suffered, been condemned and died on the cross, been despised and mocked as an outcast? Thus, at first, they are as if blinded, discouraged and sad, as if paralysed.

For man it is and will always remain incomprehensible why the way to salvation must pass through suffering. This is why the encounter on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus is so significant; not only in relation to the Easter events of that time, but for all time - also for us. On this path, the disciples learned from Jesus a new way of reading the sacred scriptures and discovering in them a prophetic testimony about him, a prediction about him, his message and his mission of salvation. Through this teaching, the disciples are instructed by the Lord himself to become his witnesses. Thus Peter, in today's liturgy, bears witness to the Lord's resurrection from this new, deeper understanding of the Easter event before men. In this light of Christ, of the Risen One, he also understands and announces David's psalm: "For you will not forsake my soul in hell" (Acts 2:27).

When Jesus reveals the true meaning of the sacred Scripture to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, the apostles who are in Jerusalem already know, that this psalm has been concretely realised: "Truly the Lord is risen and has appeared to Simon" (Lk 24:26).

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

Christ is not only who he was, but much more who he is. He was present on the road to Emmaus, and he is also present on all the paths of the world, along which his disciples walk, across generations and centuries.

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

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

Today’s Gospel, which takes place on the day of the Passover, describes the episode of the two disciples of Emmaus (Lk 24:13-35). It is a story that begins and ends on the move. There is in fact, the outbound journey of the disciples who, saddened by the epilogue of Jesus’ story, leave Jerusalem and return home to Emmaus, walking some 11 kilometres. It is a journey that takes place during the day, much of it downhill. And there is the return journey: another 11 kilometres, but at nightfall, partly an uphill journey after the fatigue of the outward journey and the entire day. Two trips: one easy in daytime, and the other tiring at night. Yet the first takes place in sadness, the second in joy. In the first one, there is the Lord walking beside them, but they do not recognise him; in the second one they do not see him anymore, but they feel him near them. In the first they are discouraged and hopeless; in the second they run to bring the good news of the encounter with the Risen Jesus to the others.

The two different paths of those first disciples tell us, Jesus’ disciples today, that in life we have two opposite directions before us: there is the path of those who, like those two on the outbound journey, allow themselves to be paralysed by life’s disappointments and proceed sadly; and there is the path of those who do not put themselves and their problems first, but rather Jesus who visits us, and the brothers who await his visit, that is, our brothers who are waiting for us to take care of them. Here is the turning point: to stop orbiting around one’s self; the disappointments of the past, the unrealised ideals, the many bad things that have happened in our life. Very often we tend to keep going around and around.... To leave that behind and to go forward looking at the greatest and truest reality of life: Jesus lives, Jesus loves me. This is the greatest reality. And I can do something for others. It is a beautiful reality: positive, bright, beautiful! This is the turning point: to go from thoughts about I to the reality of my God; going — with another play on words — from “if” [se in Italian] to “yes” [sì in Italian]. From “if” to “yes”. What does this mean? “If he had freed us, if God had listened to me, if life had gone as I wanted, if I had this and that…”, in a tone of complaint. This “if” is not helpful, it is not fruitful. It helps neither us nor others. Here are our “ifs”, similar to those of the two disciples, whom however, move to a yes: “Yes, the Lord is alive, he walks with us. Yes, we continue our journey to announce it now, not tomorrow”. “Yes, I can do this for the people so that they may be happier, so that people may better themselves, to help many people. Yes, yes I can”. From “if” to “yes”, from complaints to joy and peace, because when we complain, we are not joyful; we are in the grey, greyness, that grey air of sadness. And this does not help nor allow us to grow well. From “if” to “yes”; from complaints to the joy of service.

How did this change of pace, from “I” to “God”, from “if” to “yes”, occur within the disciples? By meeting Jesus: the two disciples of Emmaus first open their hearts to him, then they listen to him explain the Scriptures and then they invite him home. These are three steps that we too can take in our homes: first, opening our hearts to Jesus, entrusting him with the burdens, the hardships, the disappointments of life, entrusting the “ifs” to him, and then, the second step, listening to Jesus, taking the Gospel in hand, reading this passage in chapter 24 of Luke’s Gospel on this very day; third, praying to Jesus, in the same words as those disciples: “Lord, ‘stay with us’ (v. 29). Lord, stay with me. Lord, stay with all of us, because we need you to find the way”. And without you, there is night.

Dear brothers and sisters, we are always journeying in life. And we become what we go towards. Let us choose the way of God, not of self; the way of “yes”, not the way of “if”. We will discover that there are no unexpected events, no uphill path, no night that cannot be faced with Jesus. May Our Lady, Mother of the journey, who by receiving the Word made her entire life a “yes” to God, show us the way.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli 26 April 2020]

Triduum: Thursday, Friday, Easter Vigil

MAUNDY THURSDAY [17 April 2025]

Dearly beloved I am sending a text to meditate on the mystery of Holy Thursday, one to contemplate the gift of the Cross, mystery of passion and glory for Good Friday, and a note that may be of interest on the Easter Vigil of which it would be important to recover the theological and pastoral sense and value.

Rather than provide as usual a commentary for each biblical reading, I prefer to propose a meditation on Jesus washing the disciples' feet because it is a gesture that introduces us into the heart of the mystery of Holy Thursday. 

1. Eucharist gift and service of love

The starting point is this text by St Augustine: "Surge et ambula: homo Christus tua vita est, Deus Christus patria tua est. Arise and walk: the man Christ is your life, Christ God is your homeland (St Augustine, Discourse 375c)

The fourth gospel does not report the institution of the Eucharist, but deepens the testimony of the synoptics by specifying what Christ wanted to give us in the Eucharistic mystery-sacrament. Instead of the words of the institution the evangelist places the account of the washing of the feet to indicate the meaning and purpose of the Eucharistic mystery which is to live in mutual love following the example of Jesus. The washing of the feet therefore does not replace the account of the institution of the Eucharist given by Matthew, Mark and Luke, but intends to present it as a gift and service of love. Benedict XVI invites us not to stop at the differences in the Gospels when they narrate the Last Supper: "for John, it is the Farewell Supper while for the Synoptics it is the Paschal Supper". Indeed, he writes that one thing is evident in the entire tradition: the essence of this farewell supper was not the ancient Passover, but Jesus revealed the newness of his Passover in this context. Although the banquet with the apostles was not a Passover dinner according to the ritual prescriptions of Judaism, in retrospect the close connection with Christ's death and resurrection became evident. It was Jesus' Passover in which he gave himself and thus truly celebrated the Passover with them. In this way he did not deny the old, but brought it to its full fulfilment (cf. Jesus of Nazareth, II, p. 130). The essential thing is to constantly remember that on that evening Jesus celebrated his, the true Passover. The liturgy with the sequence "Lauda Sion" composed by St Thomas Aquinas on the occasion of the feast of Corpus Christi in 1264 helps us to focus on this truth: "Novae cenae novus rex, novae paschae novus lex, vetus transit observantia. The first Holy Supper is the banquet of the new King, new Easter, new law, and the old has come to an end'. Then the sequence continues: "Quod in cena Christus gessit - faciendum hoc espressit - in sui memoriam. Christ leaves in his memory what he did in the supper - we renew it'.

2. The disruptive power of the new Easter

The washing of the feet helps us precisely to understand the disruptive force of the 'new Easter'. "Before the feast of Easter Jesus, knowing that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end" (Jn 13:1).  Having ended his public life, Jesus leaves the "Passover of the Jews" to his adversaries and prepares to celebrate "his" Passover with a chosen few, and among the apostles is the betrayer. What a time of great suffering! And yet John presents this hour filled with pain and tragedy as the moment awaited by Christ, as 'the hour of glory'. Benedict XVI again writes that what constitutes the content of this hour, John describes with two words: passage (metàbasis) and love (agàpe). Two words that interpret and explain each other; both describe together the Easter of Jesus: cross and resurrection, crucifixion as elevation, as a "passage" to the glory of God, as a "passing" from the world to the Father. The passage is a transformation because Christ brings with him his flesh, his being as a man. By giving himself on the cross he transforms it, he transforms killing into a gift of love to the full, to the end. With this expression "to the end" John refers in advance to Jesus' last word on the cross: everything has been brought to an end, "it is finished" (Jn 19:30). Through his love, the cross, the instrument of death, becomes metabasis, the transformation of the human being into a sharer in the glory of God. In this transformation we are all involved and our life also becomes "passage", transformation.

While they were eating dinner, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, son of Simon, to betray him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given him everything in his hands and that he had come from God and was returning to God, got up from the table, laid down his clothes and, taking a towel, wrapped it around his waist. Then he poured water into the basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and dry them with the towel with which he had girded himself (cf. Jn 13:2-5). With full awareness the Lord is about to perform the great and humble act of foot-washing. On the Last Supper John does not give many details, he only notes while they were dining, which can also be translated as "when the supper was ready", or: "when the supper was finished". The evangelist is not very interested in the details of that meal and prefers to surprise us with Jesus' unexpected choice. The interruption of the supper to wash his feet is disturbing and stimulates us to reflect in order to seek the reasons for such a choice. 

2. Eight verbs to understand this unusual and unexpected rite

Our attention is provoked to understand this gesture of his by meditating on its meticulous description made up of no less than eight verbs: "he got up from the table, laid down his clothes, took a towel, wrapped it around his waist, poured water into the basin, began to wash his feet, dried them, took off his clothes again" after which he sits down again ready to explain its meaning. St John accumulates verbs without repeating himself so that Jesus' gesture remains impressed in the reader's mind as he intends to show that true love always translates into concrete actions of free service. Here then is Jesus undressing and putting on an apron, reminding us of what we read in St Luke: "Behold, I stand among you as one who serves" (22:27). The laying aside of clothes also symbolically expresses the imminent gift of life. In doing so, he wants to involve, starting with Peter, all the disciples and also each believer: therefore also us.

At first glance, this unusual and unexpected rite appears as an invitation to allow ourselves to be purified again and again by the fresh and salutary water of his word and love. It is an authoritative 'sign' because the gesture and words are substantiated by the gift of himself even beyond death. In fact, a few hours later, while he was lying lifeless on the cross, a soldier's lance blow would cause blood to flow from his side along with water (cf. Jn 19:34) showing his pierced body as a total gift beyond death. Christ's words are much more than mere communication; they are rather flesh and blood for the life of the world since Jesus himself is the Word made flesh (Jn 1:14) and his word is life that gives itself, real presence, bread that makes life. In every sacrament celebrated in faithfulness to his word, Christ kneels down and purifies our lives.

3. God's work for man starts from below

In the washing of the feet, Jesus presents mutual service, inspired by love, as the indispensable means to keep his presence alive in the new Community in which the disciples will have the task of creating conditions of freedom and equality, placing themselves each at the service of the other. God's work in favour of man does not come from above like a handout, but starts from below to raise man to the divine level. This is what Jesus does, the undisputed leader, who abandons his role to place himself below his disciples: "Christ Jesus, though he was in the condition of God, did not consider it a privilege to be like God, but emptied himself by assuming the condition of a servant, becoming like men" (Phil 2:6-7). He emptied himself (ekenosen): Christ voluntarily emptied himself of his divine glory to become a servant, to enter the human condition with humility, weakness and vulnerability, "obedient unto death". 

We have no trouble understanding Peter who is bewildered, unable to accept what the Lord is accomplishing, indeed rejecting it altogether. "So he came to Simon Peter and said to him, "Lord, do you wash my feet?" Jesus answered, "What I do, you do not understand now; you will understand later." Simon Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet for ever!" Jesus answered him, "If I do not wash you, you will have no part with me." Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not only your feet, but also your hands and your head!" (Jn 13:6-9). Peter perfectly expresses the attitude of the Eleven who, after being with him for years, think they know everything about Jesus. Peter, however, probably interpreting the thinking of the others, does not yet know where the Master wants to go by loving "to the end" and this is why Jesus reiterates to him the importance of the gesture so that all may understand: "If I do not wash you, you will have no part with me". In his educational action, the divine Master first teaches with deeds, then explains in words. In truth, he does not explain or explains very little by proceeding by affirmations; he does not condemn, but he makes it clear how much of a loser he is who thinks and acts like Peter who does not want to let his feet be washed and therefore will have no part with him.  What a drama to be separated from the One who loves you "to the end"!

Jesus, however, is patient in his waiting, he knows that it can be a long time to understand and put his gospel into practice. By observing how he educates Peter, we can learn to act as he wishes, remaining in his school as humble and faithful disciples.

4. The example of Christ founds and accompanies our educational action

The washing of the feet is the model for us to understand and put into practice. This is because we are in the presence of a sacramentum that is at the same time exemplum. Sacramentum i.e. mystery of Christ and power that transforms us into a new form of being, invigorating us with energy of new life. Exemplum because Christ remains the one who gives himself and always continually precedes us. The root of Christian ethics does not lie primarily in our moral capacity, but in God's gift to us. It is in the free gift of God that the reason why the central act of our being Christians is the Eucharist: that is, infinite gratitude for the new life that the Holy Trinity communicates to us through Christ's death and resurrection. It follows that the Mandatum Novum consists in loving together with the one who first loved us, and never prescinding from this truth. As with Peter, it is up to each one of us to learn that God's greatness is different from our image of greatness and that it consists precisely in descending, in the humility of service, in the radicality of love to the point of the total spoliation of one's self. And this must always be stressed again because we are constantly tempted to seek the God of power and success, or even of compromises, and not the God of the Passion. It is always tiring and difficult, as Benedict XVI observed, to realise that the Shepherd comes as a sacrificial Lamb who gives himself and, in this style, leads us to the right pasture.

Giovanni Papini, a 20th century convert writer, in his brilliant and visceral 'Life of Christ' highlights a connection between the washing of the feet and the mission of the apostles. He writes: "The Eleven, beyond deaf nature, had some claim to the benefit of the washing. For weeks of months those feet had walked the dusty, the muddy, the shitty roads of Judea to follow him who gave life. And after his death they will have to walk, years and years, on longer, shabbier roads, in countries whose name they do not even know today. And the foreign mota will lord, through their shoes, the feet of those who will go, as pilgrims and strangers to repeat the call of the Crucified". Papini probably links up with Augustine who, in a more elegant and calm manner, had presented the washing of the feet as a right and a necessity for all evangelisers. For Augustine, foot-washing is not only an exemplary gesture for educating the disciples, but also an aid for the apostles in their task as evangelisers. He writes in this regard: 'When we, the church, proclaim the gospel, O Christ, we walk the earth and dirty our feet to come and open the door to you [to let you into the hearts of the people you have entrusted to us]. When we preach to you, we walk with our feet on the earth to come and open the door for you. Wash our feet that...have become dirty walking on the earth to come and open the door to you" (Homily 57 on Jn).

5. Holy Thursday as an occasion to purify priestly service

Ultimately for us priests, Holy Thursday is a most auspicious occasion to ask Jesus to purify our priestly service. At the end of tiring days of apostolic work, we realise that we have "dirtied our feet" by giving too much importance to ourselves so as to make it more difficult to encounter Christ with people. We hear his words resounding in us: "I have given you an example so that as (kathos) I have done, you also may do" (John 13:13). Kathòs can be translated as, but here it has a special meaning: it indicates an action that produces a desired effect and it is as if Jesus were saying: by doing this I make it possible for you also to act as I do in serving your brothers and sisters. While the synoptics conveyed his command "Do this in remembrance of me", referring to the gesture of "consecration" (Lk22:19; Mt26:26; Mk14:22), John reminds us that the new community of his disciples will also have to make their Lord present in mutual service as well as in Eucharistic worship: "Knowing these things, you are blessed if you put them into practice" (Jn 13:17). In the fourth gospel we find only two beatitudes written: the first is directly addressed to the apostles present; the other will be proclaimed eight days after the resurrection and concerns especially the future disciples: "Blessed are those who, though they have not seen, will believe" (Jn 20:29). Both are especially necessary for us, priests, chosen by him to continue his mission: we will only be blessed if we unite the practice of charity with the steadfastness of faith.In summary, Christ's gesture of washing the feet shows in a visible manner that love must translate into fraternal welcome, hospitality and forgiveness, always preserving the style and spirit of the service he entrusted to the apostles, a ministry of humble, gratuitous love always based on him. Ultimately, it is a vocation to 'wash feet' in the heart of the world. 

Origen, who lived between 185 and 253/254, Father of the Greek-speaking Church, master of spiritual and allegorical theology wrote in one of his homilies: 'Jesus, come, my feet are dirty. For me make yourself my servant, pour water into the basin; come, wash my feet. I know, it is reckless what I say to you, but I fear the threat of your words: If I do not wash you, you will have no part with me. Wash my feet therefore, that I may have part with thee' (Homily 5 on Isaiah). And Saint Ambrose, bishop of Milan (339-397) and one of the most important Fathers of the Latin Church, a theologian with a pastoral and spiritual slant, teaches us to pray like this: 'O my Lord Jesus, let me wash your holy feet; you have soiled them since you walked in my soul... But where shall I get water from the spring to wash your feet? In the absence of it I have eyes to weep: by wetting your feet with my tears, let me myself be cleansed" (Penance, II, ch. 7). Finally, Jacques Dupont, Carthusian monk, Prior of the Carthusian monastery of Serra San Bruno and Procurator General of the Carthusian Order (1993-2014), who died on 13 January 2019 observes: 'Only he who accepts to have his feet washed can do so to another without an attitude of superiority'.

GOOD FRIDAY [18 April 2025].

For today here is a reflection on "The cross, the only hope of the world" 

1. Chronicle of a violent death

Every Good Friday, the liturgy repeats the proclamation of the Passion of Christ according to Saint John. In the final analysis, it is the chronicle of a violent death, and such episodes, then as now, are part of the daily news. Killings of criminals, people victims of attacks, innocent people struck down by misfortune, car or work accidents with loss of life, disasters created by natural disasters such as the recent devastating earthquake in Myanmar, one of the strongest recorded in the country in over a century, people killed because of their faith. These are all news items that follow one another quickly and last for a short time in the fast-paced daily panorama of public opinion. On the contrary, the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth, which took place more than two millennia ago, continues to be an event as vivid as if it were happening today, and this is because his death changed the face of death forever; indeed, it gave new meaning and significance to death. It is worth pausing, then, to meditate on this death that has conquered death forever.

2. Blood and water flow from the destroyed temple

One day in Jerusalem, answering those who asked by what authority he was driving the merchants out of the temple, Jesus replied: 'Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up. "He spoke of the temple of his body" (Jn 2:19. 21), comments the evangelist John, but his interlocutors did not understand. It was in truth an anticipatory sign of another event that is fully understood in John's passion narrative. When the crucifixion was completed, seeing that he was already dead, they did not break Jesus' legs as they had done to the other two crucified men, but "one of the soldiers with a spear struck his side and immediately blood and water came out" (John 19: 32-34). One catches here the reference to Ezekiel's prophecy that spoke of the future temple of God, from the side of which a trickle of water gushes out and becomes a stream, then a navigable river around which all life flourishes (cf. Ez 47:1 ff.). That "destroyed" temple from which gushes forth water and blood is the pierced heart of Christ, source of a "river of living water" (Jn 7:38). The heart of Christ already dead is alive because he conquered death; Christ risen from the dead is alive and his heart also lives in a new dimension that is not physical but mystical. The reference to the Lamb who lives in heaven "immolated, but standing" of which Revelation speaks (5, 6) is also easy. Christ is the Lamb of God who sacrificed himself, but now lives risen and glorified "standing as if immolated". His pierced heart is living, indeed "eternally pierced, precisely because eternally living". On each Good Friday, at the conclusion of the celebration of Christ's Passion, after his "consummatum est - it is fulfilled" Jesus bows his head and hands over his spirit (Jn 19:30). The expression "Consummatum est" (from the Greek Τετέλεσται, Tetélestai) is full of meaning: it is the total fulfilment of the mission of Jesus who has completed the work entrusted to him by the Father, realising the Scriptures and the plan of salvation.

3. Christ delivers the spirit 

The Latin expression "tradidit spiritum" (Jn19:30) in the original New Testament Greek koinè version "παρέδωκεν τὸ πνεῦμα" (parédōken tò pneûma) means "he delivered", "he entrusted". It is the verb παραδίδωμι, which implies a voluntary act of handing over, while τὸ πνεῦμα (tò pneûma) = "the spirit" can mean either the life-breath or, in a deeper sense, the Holy Spirit. All this is fulfilled because Jesus freely offers his life for the salvation of all mankind. This is the origin of the steadfastness of the Christians' hope, which fears no obstacle and resists all opposition from then on until the end of the world: despite the fact that a growing mass of evil is amassing in the hearts of men and in the structures of the world, making humanity seem inhabited by a "heart of darkness", Christ's sacrifice makes a living heart of light beat in the universe: his Heart. "Now the Father's plan is fulfilled," says an antiphon of the Liturgy of the Hours, "to make Christ the heart of the world": it is precisely from this certainty that the optimism of us Christians takes vigour. Illuminated by the word of God we scrutinise reality with the yardstick of the Spirit's wisdom and, certain of Christ's victory, we can proclaim with the blessed Juliana of Norwich: "Sin is inevitable, but all will be well and all things will be well" (Juliana of Norwich).

4. Stat crux dum volvitur orbis. "The Cross stands firm while the world turns".

Carthusian monks have adopted a coat of arms that appears at the entrance to their monasteries, as in their official documents. In this coat of arms, the globe is drawn, surmounted by a cross and surrounded by this phrase: "Stat crux dum volvitur orbis": the cross stands firm amidst the upheavals of the world. The statement "Stat crux dum volvitur orbis" contains a comforting spiritual truth: in the midst of the whirlwind of time, of chaos, of the instability of the world, the Cross remains the only still point, the axis around which everything revolves. The Cross is truly like the mast of the ship in the storm of the world, and several Christian authors used naval imagery precisely when speaking of the Cross: St. Columbanus (6th-7th cent.) wrote: "The world is like a stormy sea: if you want to reach port, attach your gaze to the wood of the Cross." Origen (3rd cent.) commenting on Noah's Ark, sees in it an image of salvation and the Church, and in the wood a reference to the Cross. He who clings to it does not sink in the flood of the world. St Ambrose in his exegesis of the story of Noah and the crossing of the Red Sea, speaks of the Cross as the rudder and sail of the Church: it is the Cross that guides, orients. Indeed, the mast, the central structure that supports the sail of a ship, is a perfect figure of the Cross because it holds the ship of life together: it allows orientation even in a storm; being vertical, it unites earth and sky and carries the sail of the Spirit, which blows where it will (cf. Jn 3:8). "Stat Crux, dum volvitur orbis" reminds us that the Cross is not a symbol of defeat, but of stability, direction and hope. Even if everything turns, even if life is rocked by waves, the Cross is the still centre of the world, the axis of meaning of all history. The Japanese writer Shusaku Endõ, in his novel 'Silence' (Chinmoku, 1966), set in the context of the persecutions of the 16th century, shows the cross as a living paradox: an instrument of death, but also an emblem of salvation and peace. The Cross of Christ is God's definitive and irreversible 'No' to violence, injustice, hatred, lies, to everything we call 'evil'. At the same time it is the total and irreversible "Yes" to love, truth, goodness. "A clear 'No' to sin and 'Yes' to the sinner: this is the style of Jesus' life and action throughout his life and which he now consecrates definitively with his death. A living demonstration of this is the good thief, to whom the dying Jesus promises paradise. One must always be clear about this distinction: the sinner is God's creature and retains his dignity, despite all his or her own misdeeds, while sin is the fruit of the passions and instincts and of the "envy of the devil" (Wis 2:24) and for this reason, by becoming incarnate, the Word took on everything of man, except sin. In front of the crucified Christ, everyone, but truly everyone, even the most desperate, can recover their trust and no one can say like Cain: "Too great is my guilt to obtain forgiveness" (Gen 4:13). The cross of Christ does not "stand" against the world, but for the world: it gives meaning and even value to every kind of human suffering. To the elderly Nicodemus, Jesus confides that "God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him" (Jn 3:17), and the cross vividly proclaims the final victory of Love. Not he who dominates others wins, but he who triumphs over himself, not he who hurts and makes others suffer, but he who suffers even unjustly and forgives.

5. The Cross certain hope in the digital and volatile age

The Cross of Christ remains a sign of certain hope "dum volvitur orbis". The world, since its origin, is marked by constant and changing upheavals. From the primitive stone age we are now in the digital and numerical age, where numerical data have become the heart of communication, knowledge, economy and even culture. Thus, massive digitisation dominates: all information (texts, images, sounds, actions) is converted into numerical data (bits), automation and algorithms. From finance to health, everything is managed by numerical systems and artificial intelligences, for which numerical data is the new 'oil', used to profile, predict, influence, many indeed almost all activities: communication, work, relationships. We move everywhere in non-physical digital environments and global interconnection, thanks to digital networks, creates a world that is instantly connected, but unfortunately extremely fragile. Man risks being reduced to data, to measurable behaviour. Truth is what can be quantified, calculated and controlled. Freedom is under threat from algorithmic surveillance and the idea of transition is no longer sufficient to describe the reality at hand. The idea of mutation today is associated with that of shattering in a 'liquid' society with which the acronym VUCA (volatility, uncertainty, complexity, ambiguity) is associated, where there are no fixed points, no undisputed values. The result is that, unfortunately, there is nothing stable to cling to: we are lost in the 'nothingness' that is not just absence, but an existential void that is often filled with anxiety, disorientation, or with frenetic activity that only serves to mask it. The digital ocean remains a complex reality, in some ways fascinating but dangerous: it offers unforeseen possibilities and risks, and therefore requires attention, prudence and responsibility. Father Cantalamessa, in one of his sermons on Good Friday in St. Peter's, described our era as follows: "Everything is fluctuating, even the distinction of the sexes. The worst hypothesis that the philosopher predicted as the effect of God's death, the one that the advent of the super-man should have prevented, but did not: "What did we ever do, to loosen this earth from the chain of its sun? Where does it move now? Where is it that we move? Away from all suns? Is not ours an eternal plummet? And backwards, sideways, forwards, on all sides? Is there still a high and a low? Are we not wandering as through an infinite nothingness?" (F. Nietzsche, The Gaiety of Science, aphorism 125).  And the former preacher of the Papal Household added: "It has been said that 'to kill God is the most hideous of suicides', and that is what we are partly seeing. It is not true that 'where God is born, man dies' (J.-P. Sartre); the opposite is true: where God dies, man dies. Salvador Dali painted a crucifix that seems a prophecy of this situation. An immense, cosmic cross, with an equally monumental Christ on top, seen from above, with his head reclined downwards. Below him, however, is not dry land, but water. The crucified Christ is not suspended between heaven and earth, but between heaven and the liquid element of the world. However, this tragic image also contains a consoling certainty: there is hope even for a liquid society like ours because above it 'stands the cross of Christ'.

6. O crux, ave spes unica 

On every Good Friday, the Church proclaims its consciously certain hope in the words of the poet Venantius Fortunatus: 'O crux, ave spes unica', Hail, O cross, world's only hope. The Son of God who became man has died but is no longer in the grave: he has risen. On the day of Pentecost Peter proclaims emphatically to the crowd: "You crucified him, but God raised him up!" (Acts 2:23-24), He who "was dead, now lives for ever" (Rev 1:18). The cross does not "stand" motionless amidst the upheavals of the world as a memory of a past event or as a mere symbol, but remains firmly planted in history as an event of today, indeed of every moment because Christ lives with us. We all have something of that heart of stone of which the prophet Ezekiel speaks: "I will tear out from them the heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh" (Ez 36:26). Yes, a heart is stony when it closes itself off from the love of God and becomes insensitive to the needs and suffering of its brothers and sisters; when it allows itself to be seduced by greed for material goods and is deaf to the cries of those who do not even have a penny to live on. Heart of stone is mine when I let myself be dominated by passions and live by compromise, falsehood, violence and impurity. Hardened is my heart, when folded in on myself, it prevents me from living for Christ, who loved me by dying for me. My heart trembles before the sudden storms that invade me and threaten to plunge me into the darkness of fear and discouragement. In these situations, what happened at the same time as Christ's death can happen: "the veil of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom, the earth shook, the rocks were broken, the tombs were opened, and many bodies of dead saints were raised" (Mt 27:51f.). Even in complex situations like this, an invitation to the courage of hope emerges. In a Good Friday liturgy, Pope Saint Leo the Great exhorted the faithful thus: "Let human nature tremble before the torment of the Redeemer, let the rocks of faithless hearts be broken, and let those who were shut up in the sepulchres of their mortality come forth, lifting up the stone that was upon them" (Sermo 66, 3; PL 54, 366).  The heart of flesh foretold by the prophets is the Heart of Christ pierced on the cross, 'the Sacred Heart' that continues to live in our hearts when we receive it in the Eucharist. Archbishop Fulton Sheen notes: "By the most extraordinary paradox in the history of the world, by crucifying Christ they proved that He was right and they were wrong, and by defeating Him they lost. By killing Him they transformed Him: by the power of God they changed mortality into immortality...They humiliated Him on Calvary, and He was exalted and raised above an empty tomb. They sowed His body in dishonour and He rose again in glory; They sowed Him in weakness and He rose again in power. In taking away His life, they gave Him new life...remake man and you will remake the world! (Fulton J. Sheen, from "Justice and Charity")

EASTER VIGIL [19 April 2025]

I hope you may find this brief study of the Easter Vigil helpful, as it is in danger of losing its meaning and becoming almost like the early Mass on Saturday evening. But this should not be the case at least for the Easter Vigil.  

The Easter Vigil in history 

The Easter Vigil has a two thousand year history, albeit with alternating events in the three periods of its life. Here is a quick historical overview of it in order to understand its value and importance. Its history in the secular tradition of the Church, on the one hand expresses a constant celebratory continuity, never failing, and on the other hand undergoes a wide oscillation in its timetable, which for many centuries made it inconsistent between its symbolism and the time when it should have been celebrated. 

1. First period: the great night of Vigil

Here are the main stages: - First period (2nd - 4th century): the Easter Vigil is the basic celebration of the Church, the great night of Vigil in honour of the Lord. From it, the entire Liturgical Year will later develop, as from its source and watershed. The ancient Vigil occupies the whole extent of the night: from the evening light of Vespers to the first light of dawn, when with the Eucharist the Mystery will be fulfilled and the sacramental encounter with the Risen One, who appeared to the first witnesses at that hour, will be realised. It is the paschal pannukia, in which the main scriptural pages are proclaimed, thus outlining a broad overview of salvation history, which will have in Christ dead and risen its summit and its fulfilment. It also concludes the baptismal instruction of the catechumens with the proclamation of the great biblical events, which recall the mystery of regeneration. It is thus that Baptism finds its most suitable place in the Vigil: it is about dying and rising with Christ in the mystery of the sacramental signs. In this way, the Easter of the Lord also becomes the Easter of Christians, who pass from the death of sin to the life of grace. From the earliest times, therefore, the Easter Vigil hosts the three fundamental elements, which will be a permanent constant throughout the centuries: the prophetic Word, the Sacraments of Initiation, and the Eucharistic Sacrifice. The following Sunday would be without liturgy, as everything was concentrated in the night celebration, so solemn and prolonged. Moreover, before the 4th century, such a day is working and does not allow for celebrations. 

2. Second period: the Easter Vigil slips to the afternoon

Second period (4th - 16th century). With religious freedom the Easter Vigil tends to move more and more out of the night and gradually slip into the afternoon of Holy Saturday. On the opposite side, the solemn Easter Eucharist enters into the middle of the day on Sunday, now recognised as a feast day, giving rise to a second and more solemn Mass, the 'Mass of the Day', while the ancient Vigil Mass merges with the night rites and descends with them towards the eve. Initially, the Fathers tended to ensure that the people were not dismissed before midnight, understood as the discriminating hour for the authenticity and truth of the Easter Vigil itself. However, in the concrete celebration, the time shifts more and more to the afternoon of Holy Saturday, even if the recommendation remains that the people not be dismissed before midnight and that the Gloria in excelsis not be intoned before the first stars appear. Gradually, the Vigil is fixed between the sixth hour and Vespers, and in this way it is legally incorporated into the Missal of Pius V, which stipulates that the Vigil begins after the sixth hour and ends with Vespers. However, ever since St Pius V in practice, even after the abolition of Vespers Masses (1566), the Vigil is in fact celebrated on Holy Saturday morning. The practice is taken over by the Bishops' Ceremonial and is defined in the 1917 Code of Canon Law, which fixes the end of the Easter fast with midday on Holy Saturday. With these indications, the Vigil reaches its great reform with Pius XII in 1951. "It cannot be denied that these successive anticipations had created, if not a crack in the unitary structure of the Holy Triduum, at least a jarring contrast between the mystery of the day and the liturgical formulas expressing it and superimposed on it. Despite this, the Church maintained its rites, which always preserve for the faithful their historical-commemorative reason and all their value as symbol and mystery" (Righetti, vol. II, p. 252). As long as the three holy days (Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday) were civilly festive - even though the rites had for centuries been celebrated in the morning hours and were incompatible with the Hours relating to the Mysteries recalled - they continued to be attended by the faithful, but when in 1642 Pope Urban VIII had to recognise these days as working days, the participation of the Christian people in the rites of the Easter Triduum was no longer possible, and they ended up being celebrated solely by the clergy, with an absolution that was more juridical than pastoral. - Third period (1955 to the present). 

3. The Easter Vigil returns to its time

With the reform of Pius XII the Easter Vigil returns to its proper time with precise indications, which guarantee its celebratory coherence. In fact, the Decree for the Restoration of the Easter Vigil, Dominicae Resurrectionis vigiliam (9 February 1951) states in no. 9: "The solemn Easter Vigil must be held at the appropriate hour, that is, such that it allows the solemn mass of the same vigil to begin around midnight between Holy Saturday and Resurrection Sunday". The firmness of this disposition, which would have ensured a sure success in terms of the time of the celebration of the solemn rite, was unfortunately diluted, from the very beginning, in the same decree, by a concession, which would later prove to be reductive of the nocturnal character of the Vigil, allowing it to be celebrated on the evening of Holy Saturday. "But where, given the conditions of the place and of the faithful, in the judgement of the Ordinary, it is appropriate to bring forward the time of the Easter Vigil, this is not to begin before dusk, but never before sunset" (Idem n. 9). This provision still adversely affects an Easter Vigil that has in fact never been nocturnal, but simply evening. In fact, the celebration practice shows that already in the early years (1951-1955) the parishes made use of the faculty to anticipate the Vigil in the evening. With the reform of Vatican II and in particular with the Instruction Paschalis Sollemnitatis of 16 January 1988, there is a greater insistence on a Vigil that is truly nocturnal and it is stated: 'The entire celebration of the Easter Vigil takes place at night; it must therefore either begin after the beginning of the night or end before dawn on Sunday'. Abuses and customs to the contrary, which sometimes occur, so as to bring forward the time of the celebration of the Easter Vigil to the hours when the Sunday prefestival masses are usually celebrated, cannot be admitted. The reasons given by some for anticipating the Easter Vigil, e.g. public insecurity, are not invoked in the case of Christmas Eve or other conferences held at night. However, the midnight hour is not determined as a discriminating factor. Thus in this further uncertainty, the Easter Vigil today tends not to take off from the convenient evening time. As with the Midnight Mass at Christmas, the extension of the festive precept to early vespers has had a great influence on the Easter Vigil, so that the Easter Vigil is considered legitimate from sundown on Holy Saturday, as a 'pre-holiday' Mass. This was not the case before this provision, when those who anticipated the Vigil in the evening also knew that the night Mass only fulfilled the precept if celebrated after midnight. For an effective take-off of the Vigil as a nocturnal celebration, it would be desirable today to have a precise indication of a discriminating time by the authority of the Church, going back to unequivocally establishing midnight as the hour of the Eucharistic liturgy of the Vigil itself into which one enters with the solemn singing of the Gloria. No exceptions should be allowed, as the Vigil is only celebrated in parishes or communities assimilated to them, as a choral, unique, and therefore unrepeatable act on the holy night. We have seen how concessions to this effect have become the rule, effectively losing the night celebration. 

4. Resurrection Sunday begins at midnight

What is more, the third day of the Easter Triduum, Resurrection Sunday, does not begin at the hour of Vespers on Holy Saturday, as if it were the first Vespers of Sunday, as is the norm for ordinary Saturdays and vigils. Resurrection Sunday begins at midnight, since Holy Saturday is a day of the same solemnity, as is also Good Friday. The three holy days, in fact, have the same degree of solemnity. One understands then that, in the Roman rite, it is not possible to treat the evening hour of Holy Saturday as a time already belonging to Resurrection Sunday.

Midnight is taken as the reference hour to unite the two parts of the Easter Vigil: the liturgy of the Word and the sacramental liturgy. The hour of the resurrection is not referred to us by Sacred Scripture. It belongs to the mystery of God. The Church expresses this awareness when it sings in the Exultet: "O blessed night, you alone have deserved to know the time and hour when Christ rose from the underworld". This is why liturgical tradition urges the Church to spend the nocturnal hours of the holy night in the vigil. Indeed, the Easter night has, since antiquity, been a night of complete vigil, until dawn, the hour when the tomb is found open and empty. Among the various nocturnal hours, however, the midnight hour finds very special consideration. It is linked to precise biblical events, which form the basis of the nocturnal celebration of Easter. 

5. The importance of midnight, the hour of Easter 

Midnight is the great Hour long prepared by God to save his people: "At midnight the Lord smote every firstborn in the land of Egypt... This was a night of watchfulness for the Lord to bring them out of the land of Egypt. This will be a night of watchfulness in honour of the Lord for all the Israelites, from generation to generation" (Ex 12:29. 42). The crossing of the Red Sea also took place at night and ended at the crack of dawn: "...The Lord throughout the night stirred up the sea with a strong east wind...But at the vigil of the morning the Lord from the pillar of fire and cloud cast a glance over the camp of the Egyptians...the sea, at the crack of dawn, returned to its usual level..." (Ex 14:21-27). (Ex 14:21-27). Perhaps the whole thing was accomplished in those three days of walking in the desert that Moses requested of Pharaoh to celebrate the worship of the Lord: "It is granted to us, therefore, to set out on a journey of three days in the desert and to celebrate a sacrifice to the Lord our God..." (Ex 5:3). (Ex 5:3). Those three days are prophecy of the true Passover Triduum in which the Lord worked, in the fullness of time, our redemption. The Passover event is thus fulfilled in the context of at least two nights: that of the Passover banquet with the passing of the Exterminating Angel, and that of the miraculous crossing of the Red Sea. The paschal liberation, then, in its salient phases, takes place in the night. But midnight is the hour marked out by God to bring about the decisive and decisive event: the Angel strikes and the people depart: it is the hour of the Passover. The morning vigil, which is spoken of on the night of the Red Sea crossing, is that of the consummation of the people's deliverance "In the early morning the sea returned to its usual level..." (Ex 14:27) and of the consummation of the Passover. (Ex 14:27) and of the joyful contemplation of God's great works: in that hour the song of victory is born (Ex 15:1). The prophecy of the Passover of the Lord Jesus is all too evident, when in the middle of the night, at the hour that He alone knows, He rose from the dead and at the crack of dawn showed Himself alive to His disciples: this is the hour of the Church's Alleluia. The book of Wisdom takes up the event of Easter in a celebratory tone and offers the Church's liturgy a further element to indicate the suitability of the midnight hour to implement in time the memorial and sacramental celebration of the Mystery in its two constitutive phases, Christmas and Easter. "While a profound silence enveloped all things, and the night was in the midst of its course, your almighty word from heaven, from your royal throne, implacable warrior, launched itself into the midst of that land of extermination, bearing as a sharp sword, your inexorable order" (Wis 18:14-15). The psalm also alludes to the unique Midnight Hour: "In the middle of the night I rise up to give you praise" (Sl 118:62). Truly, on Easter night, the new Man, the Lord Jesus, wakes up and rises from the sleep of death and, risen to new life, gives glory to the Father; just as already on Christmas night, the wailing of the divine Child began the new and perfect praise to the Father. Finally, in the Gospel parable of the ten virgins, the stroke of midnight marks the hour of the great event: "At midnight a cry went up: Behold the bridegroom, go out to meet him!" (Mt 25). The same hour is recalled by the Lord himself when he says: "And if he comes in the middle of the night or before dawn, he finds them so, blessed are they!" (Lk 12:38). The midnight hour foreshadowed in the parable of the virgins becomes, in the mystical interpretation of the Church, a hint of the possible return of the Lord, not only in the eschatological hour, but also in his first hour, when he was born among us and also when, awakening from the sleep of death, he returned glorious among the living. In this perspective, midnight became the discriminating hour and the most eloquent reference for both the Christmas and Easter night liturgy. A Jewish tradition says that Christ will come at midnight, as in the time of Egypt, when the Passover was celebrated and the exterminating angel came and the Lord passed over the houses and the doorposts of our foreheads were consecrated with blood. Hence, I believe, that apostolic tradition preserved to this day, according to which during the Easter Vigil it is not permissible to dismiss the crowds before midnight, when they are still awaiting the coming of Christ, while after that time everyone celebrates the feast day in a newfound security". S. GIROLAMO (cf. CANTALAMESSA, R., La Pasqua nella Chiesa antica, ed Internazionale, Torino, 1978, p. 113) 

6. Pastoral care and the "dogma" of comfort 

When the Vigil is celebrated in the evening, it is deprived of an essential component: offering God the time of sleep, sanctifying the night through the asceticism of 'waking'. We ask ourselves: does pastoral care really have to espouse the 'dogma' of comfort at all costs, giving up Easter night and Christmas night, as is currently happening? That at least on the two holy nights, of Easter and Christmas, the entire people of God, in normal parishes, should prepare themselves for the solemn celebration, keeping vigil in the night and generously offering God the night time, is this really pastorally impossible and impractical in our times? The most singular passage of the Easter Vigil, when the Gloria in excelsis is sung and the jubilus of the Alleluia is resumed, is often downplayed: after a rather brief liturgy of the Word, without having reached a congruous atmosphere of anxious anticipation and, without any ritual break, the angelic Hymn is sung and the bells are rung. We are far from that mystical and moved awe of which the ancient sources tell us. It is more eloquent on Christmas night when, at midnight, the solemn Eucharist 'in nocte' begins. Why then deprive the Easter proclamation on the holy night of the experience of fervent expectation, which gives vigour and spiritual joy to the proclamation of the resurrection, at the very beginning of the day on which the resurrection took place, the eighth day that will never set? This is not sentimentality, but celebratory richness, cohesive force and effective witness. 

7. Restore the sense of joy to the Easter Vigil 

If the Easter Vigil is to be given back the joyful and moving sense of expectation, it must be allowed time to set a progressive course towards a precise end, which in ancient times was the first dawning of the day of resurrection and which today should necessarily be the stroke of midnight at the threshold of the great and holy Easter Sunday. Since the liturgy has been irreversibly enriched by the solemn Easter Mass, and since this day is now clothed with royal and great solemnity, it is no longer desirable to propose to all the people a Vigil that extends into the morning, as in ancient times, and then necessarily reduce Easter Sunday to a liturgically 'vacant' day. In this context, midnight should once again become the Hour accepted by all as the discriminating factor between the two parts of the Vigil. Otherwise what happens is what can currently be seen in the various evening hours of Holy Saturday: one already returns from the Easter Vigil in one church, while the other leaves for the Vigil in another church. Poor Easter! Thus it is reduced to a private affair, lost in the Saturday evening routine. The celebration of the Vigil, done in unison by all Christian communities on the crest of midnight, offers an excellent opportunity for a choral witness: the Church, summoned in the middle of the holy night, awaits and announces the resurrection of the Lord. The Church, celebrating the Easter Vigil in unison, almost physically perceives its being one heart and one soul, especially when, at midnight, it acclaims the risen Christ and proclaims him to the world. To express this symphony concretely, midnight becomes a necessary and discriminating criterion. In this context, it will also be possible to give in unison the Easter proclamation to the outside world with the sound of bells.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Fossilized in reminiscences, or Announced by Brethren

(Jn 20:11-18)

Mk tells of a young man dressed in white, Mt of an angel, Lk of two men dressed in white, Jn of two angels.

The stories on the annunciation and on the heralds of the Resurrection do not fit together according to our way of telling.

To avoid a limited view on the victory of Life, it’s appropriate to understand that we are not celebrating the week of the apparitions of the Risen One, but of his Manifestations [Greek text].

He doesn’t appear only to some - to others He doesn’t: manifests itself. We experience Him.

And there is a new Creation: now we don’t recognize Jesus when we see, but when we ‘listen’ Him (v.16).

The Lord makes himself ‘seen’ not in the moment of the vision, but in the time of the Word, of the personal Appeal that «turns» the gaze from the irrelevant direction of travel that clings to the image of "yesterday".

The experience of the living Christ excludes the memories to be kept crying.

It’s a current and well-founded relationship, convincing, multifaceted and accessible - direct.

The very observance of ancient law [v.1: in the particular case, the sabbath] seems to delay the experience of the disruptive force of rebirth, in the Spirit.

Gradually, in the first communities those personal primordial energies were being reactivated that not even the blackmail, intimidation and marginalization of the institutional apparatus could touch.

The faithful were on the virtuous and exciting wave of a further fundamental change: now they felt «brothers» of the Risen One (v.17).

The ‘discipleship’ relation (Jn 13:13) growing in ‘friendship’ (Jn 15,15) were becoming that of the blood relatives who felt they were ‘sons’.

[Jn 1,11-12: «He came among his own, and his own did not welcome him. But to those who received him he gave them ‘power’ to become sons of God; to those who believe in his Name» - that is: adhering to all his word, story and action; also problematic, painful, denouncing].

Thus began the explicit Announcement, despite the fact that the truly vital and increasingly determined part of the "church" proved to be that wich was peripheral and came from the pagans [in the figure of Mary Magdalene].

Woman: authentic Assembly in the Spirit.

An endless field of humiliated people, who nevertheless in the Risen Christ «see themselves within» and are unblocked; by acquiring new breath, overcoming discouragement, disorientation, uncertainty.

Even today, the search for our Guide can also arise from the sense of loss, or from the beatings suffered - but it’s marked by Easter encounters and stages of new awareness.

New Listens, which break the reassurances. The Risen is a radical novelty: a wound inside and an impulse.

Only in the experience of being «reborn by transmitting» Him, is the Spirit unleashed that thrills and charges - and the Living One doesn’t remain a stranger or someone of whom we have already made up an idea.

There is an unprecedented situation.

But who notices? In spite of the neglect they suffer, only the bridal souls catch it - the very ones who are disregarded.

[Tuesday between the Octave of Easter, April 22, 2025]

The New Creation, from Hearing

(Jn 20:11-18)

"In those days, in Israel, the testimony of women could not have official, juridical value, but women experienced a special bond with the Lord, which is fundamental for the concrete life of the Christian community, and this always, in every age, not only at the beginning of the Church's journey" [Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli 9 April 2012].

Mk tells of a young man dressed in white, Mt of an angel, Lk of two men dressed in white, Jn of two angels.

The stories about the annunciation and the heralds of the Resurrection do not fit together according to our way of telling.

In order to avoid a limited view of the victory of Life, it should be understood that we are not celebrating the week of the apparitions of the Risen One, but of his Manifestations [Greek text].

It does not just appear to some - to others it does not (depending on the lottery): it manifests itself. We experience this.

And there is a new creation: now one does not recognise Jesus when one sees him, but when one hears him (v.16).

The Lord makes himself seen not in the moment of vision, but in the time of the Word, of the personal call that makes the ancient gaze "turn away" from the irrelevant direction that clings to the image of "yesterday".

The experience of the living Christ excludes memories to be wept over.

It is present and grounded, convincing, multifaceted and accessible - direct. Definitely better than that offered later by the apostles, without pierced hearts (or proclamations).

But the face-to-face still remained closed, to the extent that one seemed to be looking for dead or distant museum pieces - to be found almost as before and at best kept without too much shaking.

Conditioned by excessively "usual" expectations, we would claim to trace Jesus to the wrong campsites and places. But in Jn the Ascension is placed on the same day as Easter (v.17).

The very observance of archaic religious law [v.1: in the particular case, the Sabbath] seems to delay the experience of the disruptive power of rebirth, in the Spirit.

Gradually, those primordial personal energies were being reactivated in the first communities that not even the blackmail, intimidation and marginalisation of the institutional apparatus could touch.

The Incarnation continued, unfolding in the believers; awakening new creative states in them.

The faithful were on the virtuous and enthusiastic wave of a further fundamental change: they now felt themselves to be 'brothers' of the Risen One (v.17).

The relationship of 'discipleship' (Jn 13:13) grown into 'friendship' (Jn 15:15) became that of kinsmen who felt like 'sons'.

[Jn 1:11-12: "He came among his own, and his own received him not. But to those who received him, he gave them power to become children of God; to those who believe in his Name" - that is, adhere to his entire word, event and action; even problematic, painful, denunciation].

Thus began the explicit Announcement, despite the fact that the part of the "church" that was really vital and increasingly determined proved to be the peripheral and from the pagans [in the figure of Mary Magdalene].

They wanted the reviving redemption, and thus pointed the right way to the assembly leaders themselves.

The Judeo-Christian community of the apostles was in fact all out for compromise with the distant and conflicting religious institution, that of power, which had wanted to destroy the Master.

The 'apostolic' hard core always lagging behind and to be evangelised: he is converted only by the one who feels himself a nothing (vv.2.18). And when she becomes aware that the realm of dead things will no longer surround her.

Woman: Authentic Assembly in the Spirit.

A boundless field of the humiliated, which nevertheless in the Risen Christ "sees itself" and is unblocked; it acquires new breath, overcomes discouragement, disorientation, uncertainty.

Still filled with Infinity, like pilgrims, the dreamers from below and the periphery seek their way.

They are activated with passion, to rekindle and resonate every fold of the human being - previously commanded by a world of calculated alternatives.

It is again the experience of "Mary of Magdala", who, by gaining confidence, can complete the perceptions and thoughts of even the top of the class.

The Risen One is always somewhere else... than what the expert or an average religious soul not ready for change expects.

His Person has unforeseen physiognomies, unconventional and out of pattern - like life, all to be discovered.

These are unseen profiles - to be grasped and internalised, sometimes almost without a struggle.

Only a call by name - his direct Word, the personal Appeal - makes us realise that by external influence we were perhaps chasing a Lord [of the past, or fashionable] too recognisable, to be commemorated as before.

To be carried in the saddlebag as always, with closed and normal love, the child of sorrow.The search for our Rabbuni may also arise from a sense of loss, or from the beatings suffered - but it is marked by Easter encounters and stages of new awareness.

New listening, shattering reassurances.

He remains a lukewarm stranger - at room temperature - for those who allow themselves to be influenced by limited (packaged) ideas and pretend to understand him with knowledge, recognise him with their eyes, or use him as a sleeping pill.

The Risen One is radical newness: wounded within and impetus. An itinerary that embraces and takes on the whole of humanity and history.

He acts in us by shattering all security; the very security that still does not let us out of the small circle.

And while labouring in the tension of the elusive [that cannot be made one's own] it is in the excitement of perceiving the treasures of atypical and personal intuitions that regenerated life attracts and opens up, amazes.

It is only in the experience of being born again by transmitting it that the Spirit is unleashed and charged - and the Living One does not remain a stranger or someone of whom one has already formed an idea.

"I have sought and seen the Lord!" [v.18: sense of the Greek text].

We do not experience Christ with intimism, nor with reminiscences and trinkets; not even in a cerebral way or by being content to fulfil pious memorial offices on the body.

There is an unprecedented situation.

But who notices? In spite of the neglect they suffer, only the souls who are brides - the poorly regarded.

To internalise and live the message:

What transmutation took place in you and your neighbour when you accepted the Call and the invitation to the Announcement?

How did the Person of Christ make you aware that you are fully wanted: inalienable subject, by Name?

Personal Manifestation: a law we find carved into many pages of the Gospels. But... soft happiness or the wave that sweeps everything away?

In these weeks our reflection moves, as it were, in the orbit of the Paschal Mystery. Today we meet the one who, according to the Gospels, first saw the risen Jesus: Mary Magdalene. The Sabbath rest had recently ended. On the day of the passion, there had been no time to complete the funeral rites; that is why, in that dawn filled with sadness, the women go to Jesus' tomb with perfumed ointments. The first to arrive is her: Mary of Magdala, one of the disciples who had accompanied Jesus all the way from Galilee, putting herself at the service of the nascent Church. Her journey to the tomb mirrors the faithfulness of so many women who are devoted for years to the cemetery paths, in memory of someone who is no longer there. The most authentic bonds are not broken even by death: there are those who continue to love, even if the loved one is gone forever.

The gospel (cf. Jn 20:1-2, 11-18) describes Mary Magdalene by immediately making it clear that she was not a woman of easy enthusiasm. In fact, after the first visit to the tomb, she returns disappointed to the place where the disciples were hiding; she reports that the stone has been moved from the entrance of the tomb, and her first hypothesis is the simplest that can be formulated: someone must have stolen Jesus' body. So the first announcement that Mary brings is not that of the resurrection, but of a theft that unknown persons perpetrated, while all of Jerusalem slept.

Then the gospels tell of a second journey of Magdalene to Jesus' tomb. She was stubborn! She went, she came back ... because she was not convinced! This time her pace is slow, very heavy. Mary suffers doubly: first of all for the death of Jesus, and then for the inexplicable disappearance of his body.

It is while she is bending over by the tomb, her eyes filled with tears, that God surprises her in the most unexpected way. The evangelist John emphasises how persistent her blindness is: she does not notice the presence of two angels questioning her, nor does she become suspicious when she sees the man behind her, whom she thinks is the guardian of the garden. And instead she discovers the most shocking event in human history when she is finally called by name: "Mary!" (v. 16).

How beautiful it is to think that the first appearance of the Risen One - according to the gospels - happened in such a personal way! That there is someone who knows us, who sees our suffering and disappointment, and who is moved by us, and calls us by name. It is a law that we find engraved in many pages of the gospel. Around Jesus there are many people seeking God; but the most prodigious reality is that, much earlier, there is first of all God who cares for our lives, who wants to raise them up, and to do this he calls us by name, recognising the personal face of each one. Every man is a story of love that God writes on this earth. Each one of us is a story of God's love. Each of us God calls by name: he knows us by name, he looks at us, he waits for us, he forgives us, he has patience with us. Is it true or not? Each one of us has this experience.

And Jesus calls her: "Mary!"The revolution of his life, the revolution destined to transform the existence of every man and woman, begins with a name that echoes in the garden of the empty tomb. The gospels describe to us Mary's happiness: Jesus' resurrection is not a joy given with an eyedropper, but a cascade that invests one's whole life. Christian existence is not woven with fluffy happiness, but with waves that sweep over everything. Try to think too, in this instant, with the baggage of disappointments and defeats that each of us carries in our hearts, that there is a God close to us who calls us by name and says: "Get up, stop crying, because I have come to set you free!" This is beautiful.

Jesus is not one who adapts himself to the world, tolerating that in it death, sadness, hatred, the moral destruction of people endure... Our God is not inert, but our God - if I may say so - is a dreamer: he dreams of the transformation of the world, and he has achieved it in the mystery of the Resurrection.

Mary would like to embrace her Lord, but He is now oriented to the heavenly Father, while she is sent to take the announcement to her brothers and sisters. And so that woman, who before meeting Jesus was at the mercy of the evil one (cf. Lk 8:2), has now become an apostle of the new and greater hope. May his intercession help us to live this experience too: in the hour of weeping, and in the hour of abandonment, listen to the Risen Jesus who calls us by name, and with a heart full of joy go and proclaim: "I have seen the Lord!" (v. 18). I have changed my life because I have seen the Lord! Now I am different from before, I am a different person. I am changed because I have seen the Lord. This is our strength and this is our hope.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 17 May 2017].

The event of the Resurrection as such is not described by the Evangelists: it remains mysterious, not in the sense of being less real, but hidden, beyond the scope of our knowledge: like a light so bright that we cannot look at it or we should be blinded. The narratives begin instead when, towards dawn on the day after Saturday, the women went to the tomb and found it open and empty. St Matthew also speaks of an earthquake and a dazzling angel who rolled away the great stone sealing the tomb and sat on it (cf. Mt 28:2).

Having heard the angel’s announcement of the Resurrection, the women, with fear and great joy, hastened to take the news to the disciples and at that very moment encountered Jesus, prostrated themselves at his feet and worshipped him; and he said to them: “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brethren to go to Galilee, and there they will see me” (Mt 28:10). In all the Gospels, in the accounts of the appearances of the Risen Jesus, women are given ample room, as moreover also in the accounts of Jesus’ Passion and death. In those times, in Israel the testimony of women could not possess any official or juridical value, but the women had had an experience of a special bond with the Lord, which was fundamental for the practical life of the Christian community, and this is always the case in every epoch and not only when the Church was taking her first steps.

Mary, Mother of the Lord, of course, is the sublime and exemplary model of this relationship with Jesus, and in a special way in his Paschal Mystery. Precisely through the transforming experience of the Passover of her Son, the Virgin Mary also becomes Mother of the Church, that is, of each one of the believers and of their whole community.

[Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli 9 April 2012]

Meditation on the Easter season

1. The Easter Sequence takes up the proclamation of hope that rang out at the solemn Easter Vigil: "The Lord of life was dead; now, alive, he triumphs", and gives it a new impact. These words guide the reflection of our meeting which is taking place in the luminous atmosphere of the Octave of Easter.

Christ triumphs over evil and death. This is the cry of joy that bursts from the heart of the Church during these days. Victorious over death, Jesus offers to those who accept and believe in him the gift of life that dies no longer. His death and his Resurrection therefore constitute the foundations of the Church's faith.

2. The Gospel narratives refer, sometimes in rich detail, to the meetings of the Risen Lord with the women who hurried to the tomb, and later, with the Apostles. As eye-witnesses, it is precisely they who were to be the first to proclaim the Gospel of his death and Resurrection. After Pentecost, they were to affirm fearlessly that what the Scriptures say about the Promised Messiah is fulfilled in Jesus of Nazareth.

The Church, the depository of this universal mystery of salvation, passes it on from generation to generation to the men and women of every time and place. In our time too, with the commitment of believers, we must make the proclamation of Christ, who through the power of his Spirit now lives triumphant, ring out clearly.

3. So that Christians may properly carry out this mandate entrusted to them, it is indispensable that they have a personal encounter with Christ, crucified and risen, and let the power of his love transform them. When this happens, sadness changes to joy and fear gives way to missionary enthusiasm.

John the Evangelist, for example, tells us of the Risen Christ's moving meeting with Mary Magdalene, who, having gone very early to the tomb, finds the sepulchre open and empty. She fears that the body of the Lord may have been stolen, so she is upset and weeps. But suddenly someone whom she supposes to be "the gardener" calls her by name:  "Mary!". She then recognizes him as the Teacher, "Rabboni", and recovering quickly from her distress and bewilderment, runs immediately to announce this news enthusiastically to the Eleven: "I have seen the Lord" (cf. Jn 20: 11-18).

4. "Christ my hope is arisen". With these words, the Sequence highlights an aspect of the paschal mystery that men and women today need to understand more deeply. Perturbed by latent threats of violence and death, people are in search of someone who will give them peace and security. But where can they find peace other than in the innocent Christ who reconciled sinners with the Father?
On Calvary, Divine Mercy manifested his face of love and forgiveness for everyone. In the Upper Room after his Resurrection, Jesus entrusted the Apostles with the task of being ministers of this mercy, a source of reconciliation among men and women.

In her humility, St Faustina Kowalska was chosen to proclaim this message of light that is particularly fitting for the world of today. It is a message of hope that invites us to abandon ourselves in the hands of the Lord. "Jesus, I trust in you!", the saint liked to repeat.

May Mary, Woman of Hope and Mother of Mercy, obtain for us to personally encounter her Son, who died and rose! May she make of us tireless workers for his mercy and his peace.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 14 April 2004]

In the last few weeks, our reflection has been moving, so to speak, within the orbit of the Paschal Mystery. Today we meet the one who, according to the Gospels, was the first to see the Risen Christ: Mary Magdalene. The Sabbath had ended not long before. On the day of the Passion, there had not been enough time to complete the funeral rites. For this reason, at that sorrow-filled dawn, the women went to Jesus’ tomb with aromatic oils. The first to arrive was Mary Magdalene. She was one of the disciples who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee, putting herself at the service of the burgeoning Church. Her walk to the sepulchre mirrors the fidelity of many women who spend years in the small alleyways of cemeteries remembering someone who is no longer there. The most authentic bonds are not broken even in death: there are those who continue loving even if their loved one is gone forever.

The Gospel describes Magdalene by immediately highlighting that she was not a woman easily given to enthusiasm (cf. Jn 20:1-2, 11-18). In fact, after her visit to the sepulchre, she returns disappointed to the Apostles’ hiding place. She tells them that the stone has been removed from the entrance to the sepulchre, and her first hypothesis is the simplest that one could formulate: someone must have stolen Jesus’ body. Thus, the first announcement that Mary makes is not the one of the Resurrection, but of a theft perpetrated by persons unknown while all Jerusalem slept.

The Gospels then tell of Magdalene’s second visit to Jesus’ sepulchre. She was stubborn! She went, she returned ... because she was not convinced! This time her step is slow and very heavy. Mary suffers twice as much: first for the death of Jesus, and then for the inexplicable disappearance of his body.

It is as she is stooping near the tomb, her eyes filled with tears, that God surprises her in the most unexpected way. John the Evangelist stresses how persistent her blindness is. She does not notice the presence of the two angels who question her, and she does not become suspicious even when she sees the man behind her, whom she believes is the custodian of the garden. Instead, she discovers the most overwhelming event in the history of mankind when she is finally called by her name: “Mary!” (v. 16).

How nice it is to think that the first apparition of the Risen One — according to the Gospels — took place in such a personal way! To think that there is someone who knows us, who sees our suffering and disappointment, who is moved with us and calls us by name. It is a law which we find engraved on many pages of the Gospel. There are many people around Jesus who search for God, but the most prodigious reality is that, long before that, in the first place there is God, who is concerned about our life, who wants to raise it, and to do this, he calls us by name, recognizing the individual face of each person. Each person is a love story that God writes on this earth. Each one of us is God’s love story. He calls each of us by our name: he knows us by name; he looks at us; he waits for us; he forgives us; he is patient with us. Is this true or not true? Each of us experiences this.

And Jesus calls her: “Mary!”: the revolution of her life, the revolution destined to transform the life of every man and every woman begins with a name which echoes in the garden of the empty sepulchre. The Gospels describe Mary’s happiness. Jesus’ Resurrection is not a joy which is measured with a dropper, but a waterfall that cascades over life. Christian life is not woven of soft joys, but of waves which engulf everything. You too, try to imagine, right now, with the baggage of disappointments and failures that each of us carries in our heart, that there is a God close to us who calls us by name and says to us: ‘Rise, stop weeping, for I have come to free you!”. This is beautiful.

Jesus is not one who adapts to the world, tolerating in it the persistence of death, sadness, hatred, the moral destruction of people.... Our God is not inert, but our God — allow me to say — is a dreamer: he dreams of the transformation of the world, and accomplished it in the mystery of the Resurrection.

Mary would like to embrace her Lord, but he is already oriented towards the heavenly Father, whereas she is sent to carry the news to the brethren. And so that woman, who, before encountering Jesus, had been at the mercy of evil (cf. Lk 8:2) now becomes the Apostle of the new and greatest hope. May her intercession also help us live this experience: in times of woe and in times of abandonment, to listen to the Risen Jesus who calls us by name and, with a heart full of joy, to go forth and proclaim: “I have seen the Lord!” (v. 18). I have changed my life because I have seen the Lord! I am now different than before. I am another person. I have changed because I have seen the Lord. This is our strength and this is our hope.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 17 May 2017]

(Mt 28:8-15)

The Gospels do not offer entirely reconcilable chronicle data about the unfolding of events after the discovery of the «empty tomb», but the Message of those traces (of the first events) is self-evident.

No mausoleum, no relics... but rather the ability to see the graves open - and to guess life amidst footsteps of death: dangerous Truth.

Hence the unleashing of engaging enthusiasm.

Two processions depart from the empty crypt: sounding Messengers of unheard-of life, though uncredited, and sepulcher guards:

Welcoming aimed at witnessing, and rejection of those who do not read the meaning-filled 'sign'.

The gendarmes of the ancient world go from pit to pit; dragging behind them the same burial chamber.

In fact, to the priests they announce the empty vault as if it were a factual little story, controllable, of mere chronicle (v.11) that then turns to rumor, to legend (v.15).

By the time Mt writes there were already fervent discussions between Jews and Christian converts from Judaism.

Believers felt fulfilled in Christ - in this way also able to spread this Word-event.

Disputes were heated: the Gospel passage places us in a reality that dragged on throughout most of the first century.

As time went on - even before the separation from the institutional synagogue - the very existence of the fraternities, their lifestyle and witness, became a denunciation against the authoritarian spirit, greed, teaching and roles of religious leaders (e.g., Acts 3:1-8).

Amidst a thousand upheavals, the new world was beginning - heralded with high forehead.

The waiting was over: one just had to be convinced of reality - no more dreaming of a future that while proceeding would return to the past, or adhere to conformity and self-interest.

Mt's beginning and ending recall each other.

Jesus is the Immanu-'El of the ancient Scriptures: God-With-us. The hope of the outcasts from the round, and of wavering ones - always given over to the mercy of others, enslaved, and subjugated.

A radical change was expected in the unlivable situation of injustice and social collapse, spiritually dull and habitual - endured by the wretched in the humiliation of the whole being.

By getting busy in the Announcement, Women do not stumble upon a packaged Christ, to be impersonally conveyed.

It’s in their going the Way that a new Spirit is kindled - with the contagious jubilation of Exodus.

The Encounter with God's world becomes a decisive event because all (first without-voice) receive a fervent invitation to the preaching and living of the Beatitudes [the Mount of Galilee, v.10: the "periphery" of life resuming its normal activity; land of Jesus' ministry and disciples' following].

Now as limpid, complete and pure protagonists to whom the Mystery does not resist. 

In short, for us: if someone does not take the field but shuns, does not transmit, or considers neutral the News of the victory of life over death, it is in danger of becoming a humbug, nonsense.

Instead, now it is the Risen One who comes to meet the revived ones (v.9) - just as he had done with the one born blind (Jn 9:35).

We are no longer the excommunicated, or prolongers of the tombs’ world, nor the merely awakened.

We are those who convey impetus, verve, character, a sense of fullness and Mystery that saves - heralds of open contradiction.

Progeny springing not from the grave, but from God's world - the source of indestructible being, in which we finally stand firm.

«Rejoice!» (v.9).

In community, cheerfulness for the sense of personal esteem and relational depth related to the new pattern of life overcomes fears.

The first realities of communion [the «Women»] make their own the same Path of the Master [clasping and worshiping his «Feet»].

A conscious and autonomous proposal arises.

The Announcement of a startling experience is born: in the Living One we are ourselves, and the Gift of self - whatever it may be, even previously despised - produces personal completeness and coexistence.

He who spends what he authentically is, values his story: he does not waste existence, but recovers, realizes and sublimates it.

New people flourish, inwardly reborn and no longer left to their own devices.

Seeing far ahead and proceeding in the same 'footsteps' as the Lord, all the unsteady ones overcame the sense of unworthiness inculcated by ancient religion.

Aware of esteem, personal quality, and other resources, the early believers immediately demonstrated a marked aptitude for frankness.

Even the little ones gained courage - recovering the opposite sides of themselves. And no longer suffocated by fears of bogus authority, capable only of retaliation.

Obviously the ancient world wanted to perpetuate itself, and defended itself with pirouettes and lies. As still today, by handing out favours (vv.12-15).

To internalize and live the message:

What inner and outer powers accentuate the disturbances and fight your ability to proclaim the Good News?

Angel of Counsel and ministers of Christ

However the Angel of the Resurrection also calls to mind another meaning. Indeed, we must remember that as well as describing Angels, spiritual creatures endowed with intelligence and a will, servants and messengers of God, the term "Angel" is also one of the most ancient titles attributed to Jesus himself. We read, for example, in Tertullian: "He", that is, Christ, "was also the «Angel of counsel», that is, a herald, a term that denotes an office rather than a nature. Effectively he was to proclaim to the world the Father's great plan for the restoration of man" (cf. De Carne Christi, 14). This is what the ancient Christian writer said. Jesus Christ, the Son of God was therefore also called the "Angel of God the Father": he is the Messenger par excellence of God's love. Dear friends, let us now consider what the Risen Jesus said to the Apostles: "As the Father has sent me, even so I send you" (Jn 20: 21); and he communicated his Holy Spirit to them. This means that just as Jesus was the herald of God the Father's love, we too must be heralds of Christ's charity: let us be messengers of his Resurrection, of his victory over evil and death, heralds of his divine love.
By our nature, of course, we remain men and women, but we have received the mission of "Angels", messengers of Christ.

(Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli, April 5, 2010)

[Easter Monday, April 21, 2025]