1. In the Gospels, when Jesus called his first Apostles to make them “fishers of men” (Mt 4:19; Mk 1:17; cf. Lk 5:10), they “left everything and followed him” (Lk 5:11; cf. Mt 4:20, 22; Mk 1:18, 20). One day, Peter himself recalled this aspect of the apostolic vocation, saying to Jesus: “Behold, we have left everything and followed you” (Mt 19:27; Mk 10:28; cf. Lk 18:28). Jesus then listed all the renunciations necessary “for my sake,” he said, “and for the sake of the Gospel” (Mk 10:29). It was not merely a matter of renouncing material possessions, such as one’s “house” or “fields”, but also of parting from one’s dearest ones: “brothers or sisters or father or mother or children”, – as Matthew and Mark put it – “wife or brothers or parents or children”, – as Luke puts it (18:29).
Let us note here the diversity of vocations. Jesus did not demand a radical renunciation of family life from all his disciples, although he did demand that he take first place in their hearts when he said: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” (Mt 10:37). The requirement for effective renunciation is proper to the apostolic life or to the life of special consecration. Called by Jesus, “James son of Zebedee and his brother John” left not only the boat in which they were “mending their nets”, but also their father, with whom they were (Mt 4:22; cf. Mk 1:20).
These observations help us to understand the rationale behind the Church’s legislation regarding priestly celibacy. The Church, in fact, has held and continues to hold that it is part of the logic of priestly consecration and the consequent total belonging to Christ, with a view to the conscious fulfilment of his mandate of spiritual life and evangelisation.
2. Indeed, in the Gospel according to Matthew, shortly before the passage on separation from loved ones that we have just cited, Jesus expresses in strong Semitic language another renunciation required ‘for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven’, namely, the renunciation of marriage. “There are,” he says, “eunuchs who have made themselves such for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 19:12). That is to say, they have committed themselves to celibacy in order to place themselves entirely at the service of the “Gospel of the Kingdom” (cf. Mt 4:23; 9:35; 24:34).
In his First Letter to the Corinthians, the Apostle Paul states that he has resolutely taken this path and demonstrates the consistency of his decision by declaring: “The unmarried man is concerned with the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. The married man, however, is concerned with the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and is divided!” (1 Cor 7:32–34). Certainly, it is not fitting that one who has been called to attend to the things of the Lord as a priest should “be divided”. As the Council states, the commitment to celibacy, deriving from a tradition linked to Christ, is “particularly suited to the priestly life. It is in fact both a sign and a stimulus of pastoral charity, and a source of spiritual fruitfulness in the world” (Presbyterorum Ordinis, 16).
It is true that in the Eastern Churches many priests are lawfully married according to the canon law applicable to them. Even in those Churches, however, the bishops live in celibacy, as do a certain number of priests. The difference in discipline, linked to conditions of time and place assessed by the Church, is explained by the fact that perfect continence, as the Council states, “is not required by the very nature of the priesthood” (ibid.). It does not belong to the essence of the priesthood as an Order, and therefore is not imposed absolutely in all Churches. There is, however, no doubt as to its appropriateness and indeed its consistency with the demands of the sacred Order. It falls, as has been said, within the logic of consecration.
3. The concrete ideal of this state of consecrated life is Jesus, the model for all, but especially for priests. He lived as a celibate, and for this reason was able to devote all his energies to preaching the Kingdom of God and to the service of mankind, with a heart open to the whole of humanity, as the progenitor of a new spiritual generation. His choice was truly ‘for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven’ (cf. Mt 19:12).
By his example, Jesus pointed the way, and this path has been followed. According to the Gospels, it seems that the Twelve, destined to be the first to share in his priesthood, renounced family life in order to follow him. The Gospels never speak of wives or children in connection with the Twelve, even though they do tell us that Peter, before being called by Jesus, was a married man (cf. Mt 8:14; Mk 1:30; Lk 4:38).
4. Jesus did not enact a law, but proposed an ideal of celibacy for the new priesthood he was establishing. This ideal became increasingly established within the Church. It is understandable that, in the early phase of the spread and development of Christianity, a large number of priests were married men, chosen and ordained in the wake of Jewish tradition. We know that in the Letters to Timothy (1 Tim 3:2–33) and to Titus (Titus 1:6) it is required that, among the qualities of men chosen as presbyters, there be that of being good heads of households, married to one wife (that is, faithful to their wives). This was a phase in the Church’s development, and one might say, of experimentation to determine which form of discipline regarding states of life best corresponded to the ideal and the ‘counsels’ proposed by the Lord. On the basis of experience and reflection, the discipline of celibacy gradually became established until it became the norm in the Western Church by virtue of canon law. It was not merely the consequence of a legal and disciplinary fact: it was the maturing of an ecclesial awareness regarding the appropriateness of priestly celibacy for reasons not only historical and practical, but also stemming from the ever-better-discovered congruence between celibacy and the demands of the priesthood.
5. The Second Vatican Council sets out the reasons for this ‘intimate harmony’ between celibacy and the priesthood: ‘Through virginity or celibacy observed for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven, priests consecrate themselves to Christ in a new and sublime way; they adhere more easily to Him with undivided love; they devote themselves more freely in Him and for Him to the service of God and mankind; they serve His Kingdom and His work of divine regeneration more effectively; and in this way they prepare themselves better to receive a fuller fatherhood in Christ”. They “thus evoke that mystical marriage instituted by God, which will be fully revealed in the future, whereby the Church has Christ as her sole Spouse... and become a living sign of that future world, already present through faith and charity, in which the children of the resurrection do not enter into marriage” (PO 16; cf. Pastores dabo vobis, 29; 50; CCC 1579).
These are reasons of noble spiritual elevation, which we may summarise in the following essential elements: the fullest adherence to Christ, loved and served with an undivided heart (cf. 1 Cor 7:32–33); the widest possible availability for the service of Christ’s Kingdom and for the fulfilment of one’s duties in the Church; the more exclusive choice of spiritual fruitfulness (cf. 1 Cor 4:15); the practice of a life akin to that which is definitive in the hereafter, and therefore more exemplary for life in this world. This applies to all ages, including our own, as the supreme reason and criterion for every judgement and every choice in harmony with the invitation to ‘leave everything behind’, addressed by Jesus to his disciples and especially to the Apostles. For this reason, the 1971 Synod of Bishops confirmed: “The law of priestly celibacy, in force in the Latin Church, must be fully preserved” (Ench. Vat., IV, 1219).
6. It is true that today the practice of celibacy encounters obstacles, sometimes even serious ones, in the subjective and objective circumstances in which priests find themselves. The Synod of Bishops has considered these, but has held that even today’s difficulties can be overcome if “the appropriate conditions are fostered, namely: the deepening of the interior life through prayer, self-denial, ardent charity towards God and neighbour, and the other aids of the spiritual life; human balance through an orderly integration into the fabric of social relations; fraternal relationships and contact with other priests and with the Bishop, by better implementing pastoral structures for this purpose, and also with the help of the community of the faithful” (Ibid., IV, 1216).
It is a kind of challenge that the Church issues to the mindset, the trends, the allurements of the world, with an ever-renewed commitment to consistency and fidelity to the Gospel ideal. For this reason, whilst acknowledging that the Supreme Pontiff may assess and determine what is to be done in certain cases, the Synod reaffirmed that in the Latin Church “the ordination of married men to the priesthood is not permitted even in particular cases” (Ibid., IV, 1220). The Church holds that the awareness of total consecration, which has matured over the centuries, still has reason to exist and to be perfected ever more.
The Church also knows, and reminds the priests and all the faithful through the Council, that “the gift of celibacy, so fitting to the priesthood of the New Law, is granted in great measure by the Father, on condition that all those who share in the Priesthood of Christ through the sacrament of Holy Orders—indeed, the whole Church—request it with humility and insistence” (PO 16).
But perhaps, even before that, it is necessary to ask for the grace to understand priestly celibacy, which undoubtedly involves a certain mystery: that of the call for boldness and trust in absolute attachment to the person and redemptive work of Christ, with a radicalism of renunciation that may appear shocking to human eyes. Jesus himself, in suggesting this, warns that not everyone can understand it (cf. Mt 19:10-12). Blessed are those who receive the grace to understand it, and remain faithful on this path!
[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 17 July 1993]

Today’s Gospel, taken from Mark, Chapter 10, is divided into three scenes, punctuated by three gazes of Jesus.

The first scene presents the encounter between the Teacher and a fellow who — according to the parallel passage of Matthew — is identified as a “young man”. The encounter of Jesus with a young man. This man runs up to Jesus, kneels and calls him “Good Teacher”. Then he asks: “what must I do to inherit eternal life”, in other words, happiness (v. 17). “Eternal life” is not only the afterlife, but is a full life, fulfilled, without limitations. What must we do to achieve it? Jesus’ answer restates the commandments that refer to loving one’s neighbours. In this regard the young man has nothing to reproach; but clearly, observing the precepts is not enough. It does not satisfy his desire for fulfillment. Jesus perceives this desire that the young man bears in his heart; for this reason his response is expressed in an intense gaze filled with tenderness and love. The Gospel thus says: “[Jesus] looking upon him loved him” (v. 21). He realized he was a good young man.... But Jesus also understood his interlocutor’s weakness, and offers him a practical proposal: to give all his possessions to the poor and follow Him. That young man’s heart, however, was divided between two masters: God and money, and he went away sorrowful. This shows that faith and attachment to riches cannot coexist. Thus, in the end, the young man’s initial enthusiasm is dampened in the unhappiness of a sunken sequela.

In the second scene the Evangelist frames the eyes of Jesus, and this time it is a pensive gaze, one of caution: “[Jesus] looked around and said to his disciples: ‘How hard it will be for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!’” (v. 23). To the astonishment of the disciples, who ask him: “Then who can be saved?” (v. 26), Jesus responds with a encouraging gaze — it is the third gaze — and says: salvation, yes, “with men it is impossible, but not with God!” (v. 27). If we trust in the Lord, we can overcome all obstacles that impede us from following him on the path of faith. Trust in the Lord. He will give us strength, he gives us salvation, he accompanies us on the way.

And thus we arrive at the third scene, that of Jesus’ solemn declaration: Truly, I say to you those who leave all to follow me shall have eternal life in the age to come and a hundredfold now in this time (cf. vv. 29-30). This “hundredfold” is comprised of things first possessed and then left, but which shall be restored and multiplied ad infinitum. In divesting oneself of possessions, one receives in exchange the comfort of true good; freed from the slavery of things, one earns the freedom of serving out of love; in renouncing possessions, one acquires the joy of giving. As Jesus said: “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (cf. Acts 20:35).

The young man did not allow himself to be conquered by Jesus’ loving gaze, and thus was not able to change. Only by accepting with humble gratitude the love of the Lord do we free ourselves from the seduction of idols and the blindness of our illusions. Money, pleasure, success dazzle but then disappoint: they promise life but procure death. The Lord asks us to detach ourselves from these false riches in order to enter into true life, the full, authentic, luminous life. I ask you, young people, young men and young women, who are here now in the Square: “Have you felt Jesus’ gaze upon you? Do you prefer to leave this Square with the joy that Jesus gives us or with the sadness of heart that worldliness offers us?”.

May the Virgin Mary help us to open our heart to Jesus’ love, to Jesus’ gaze, the only One who can satiate our thirst for happiness.

[Pope Francis, Angelus of 11 October 2015]

Ascension of the Lord (year A) and VII Easter Sunday [Thursday 14 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (1:1–11)

The opening verses serve as a bridge between the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of Luke, which is also dedicated to a certain Theophilus. One begins where the other ends, namely with the account of Jesus’ Ascension, even though the two accounts do not agree on everything. The Gospel recounts Jesus’ mission and preaching; the second is dedicated to the mission and preaching of the Apostles, hence the name “Acts of the Apostles”. The parallel can be taken further: the Gospel begins and ends in Jerusalem, the centre of the Jewish world and of the First Covenant; the Acts begin in Jerusalem, because the New Covenant is a continuation of the First, but they end in Rome, the crossroads of all the roads of the then-known world: the New Covenant now extends beyond the borders of Israel. For Luke, it is clear that this expansion is the work of the Holy Spirit. It is the very Spirit of Jesus and will be the inspiration of the Apostles from Pentecost onwards, so much so that the Acts are often called “the Gospel of the Spirit”. Just as Jesus had prepared for his mission with forty days in the desert after his Baptism, so too does he prepare the Church for forty days: “For forty days he appeared to them and spoke about the kingdom of God”. During a final meal, he gives his instructions: a command, a promise, a sending forth on mission. The command is almost surprising: to wait and not to move. “He instructed them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the Father’s promise.” That the Father’s promises would be fulfilled in Jerusalem certainly did not surprise the Eleven, all of whom were Jews, for the entire preaching of the prophets assigned Jerusalem a decisive role in the fulfilment of God’s plan. Luke specifies the content of the promise: “John baptised with water, but you will be baptised in the Holy Spirit in a few days’ time.” The apostles had in mind the prophecies of Joel: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all people” (Joel 3:1–2), and of Zechariah: “On that day there shall be a fountain opened for the house of David and for the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity” (Zech 13:1)  and Ezekiel: “I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be cleansed… I will give you a new heart, and  I will put a new spirit within you… I will put my Spirit within you” (Ezek 36:25–27).

The apostles’ question “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” shows that they had clearly understood that the famous Day of the Lord had dawned. Jesus’ reply should not surprise us: God calls upon human cooperation to bring about his plan, and the salvation of God, which has come through Jesus Christ, calls upon people to enter into it. For this to happen, people must know of it, and from this arises the mission and responsibility of the Apostles. The Spirit is given to them for this purpose: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” This means that between the gift of the Spirit and the definitive coming of the Kingdom there is an interval which is the time of witness: an interval that is all the longer the more the message is to be brought to all humanity. “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” The Book of Acts follows this plan exactly. Just as on Easter morning “two men in dazzling robes” had torn the women away from their contemplation, saying, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen”, so on the day of the Ascension two men in white robes do the same with the Apostles: “Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing into the sky? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven”. He will return, we are certain of it, and that is why we say at every Eucharist: “As we await the fulfilment of our blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour Jesus Christ”. In the Bible, the cloud is the visible sign of God’s presence, as at the crossing of the Red Sea or at the Transfiguration. The cloud that hides Jesus from human sight is the sign that he has now entered God’s realm: his physical and visible presence thus ceases to inaugurate his spiritual presence. It is impossible to reconstruct exactly what happened between Jesus’ Resurrection, on Easter night, and the day he definitively left his apostles to return to the Father. In Luke’s accounts, in both the Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, the two narratives are very similar: Jesus’ departure takes place near Jerusalem, for the Gospel speaks of Bethany and the Acts of the Mount of Olives; in both, Luke specifies that Jesus instructs the disciples not to leave Jerusalem before they have received the Holy Spirit. The only difference concerns the timing: in the Gospel, it seems that the departure takes place on Easter evening itself; after appearing to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, they return to Jerusalem to tell the Eleven everything; and it is whilst they are talking together that Jesus appears, stays with them, and explains the Scriptures; then he leads them to Bethany and there disappears from their sight for good. In Acts, however, Luke specifies that forty days elapsed between Easter and the Ascension; and this is why we celebrate the the Ascension forty days after Easter. In the other Gospels there is almost nothing on this: in Matthew there is no account of the Ascension, but only an appearance of Jesus to two women who had gone to the tomb and then to the disciples in Galilee, during which he utters the phrase with which his Gospel concludes: “ Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’ John gives a more detailed account of several appearances of the Risen One, one to Mary Magdalene and three to the disciples, the last by the Sea of Tiberias; but he does not recount the Ascension. As for Mark, he recounts the appearance to Mary Magdalene, then to two disciples who were going out into the countryside, and finally to the Eleven. Jesus sends them to preach the Gospel to the whole world, and Mark concludes by saying: “The Lord Jesus, after speaking to them, was taken up into heaven and sat at the right hand of God” . These differences between the Gospels prove that their details do not aim at historical or geographical reality: Matthew has his reasons for speaking of Galilee. Luke, on the other hand, has his own reasons for emphasising Jerusalem, because it was there that Jesus told them to wait for the gift of the Spirit, and Luke’s Gospel ends with Jesus’ final instruction: “And behold, I am sending upon you the one whom my Father has promised; but you must remain in the city until you are clothed with power from on high” (Lk 24:49).

Responsorial Psalm (46/47)

Here Israel sings and acclaims God as its king, and this is not surprising; but what is even more astonishing is that it says God is the king of the whole earth. Now, this was not always the view in Israel. Before the Babylonian Exile, none of the kings of Israel imagined that God was the Lord of the entire universe. This means that the psalm was composed late in the history of the chosen people. I shall focus on the first statement: God is the king of Israel. For a long period of biblical history, Israel had kings, like its neighbouring peoples, but its conception of kingship was unique, and this distinctiveness persisted throughout its history. In Israel, the king could never claim to be the highest authority in the land and did not hold absolute power, for God remained the sovereign. In other words, the true king in Israel was none other than God Himself. The king, for example, could not interpret the laws as he pleased and  had, like everyone else, to submit to the Law of God given to Moses on Mount Sinai. According to the Book of Deuteronomy, he was required to read the entire Law every day of his life. Even whilst sitting on the throne, he was, in principle, merely an executor of God’s commands conveyed by the prophets. In the Books of Kings, in fact, we often see one king or another seeking the consent of the prophet of the day before going into battle or even, in David’s case, before undertaking the construction of the Temple. And on several occasions we see the prophets intervening freely in the lives of the kings and sometimes violently criticising their behaviour. The affirmation of God’s sovereignty was even a hindrance to the establishment of the monarchy. One recalls the very violent reaction of the prophet Samuel, in the time of the Judges, when the leaders of the tribes of Israel came to tell him that they wanted a king ‘to be like the other nations’. To desire to be ‘like the other nations’ when one had the honour of being the people chosen by God for the covenant was, in his eyes, a true blasphemy. He eventually yielded to the insistence of the tribal leaders, but not without warning them that they were bringing ruin upon themselves. And when he anointed the first king, Saul, he took care to specify that he was becoming the head of God’s inheritance. The people remained God’s people and not the king’s, and the king was but a servant of God. And throughout the monarchy in Israel, the prophets took it upon themselves to remind the kings of this fundamental truth. To the extent that the Books of Kings, when recounting the successive reigns, have but one criterion of judgement: the faithfulness of each king to God’s will. One phrase recurs constantly: ‘Such-and-such a king did what was right in the eyes of the Lord’, or conversely, ‘Such-and-such a king did what was evil in the eyes of the Lord’. It is therefore in honour of God himself that our psalm deploys here the entire vocabulary otherwise reserved for the kings of the earth. The very word ‘awesome’ is a compliment; it is a common term in courtly language and is reassuring: the enemies are warned, our king will be invincible. In every line of this psalm, it is clear that we are speaking of the God of Sinai, the Lord, who is acclaimed as God and King of the entire universe. This universal dimension is very much present in the psalm, to the point of stating that “God reigns over the pagan nations”. Now, the discovery of monotheism dates only to the Babylonian Exile: until then, the people of Israel were not yet monotheists. To be monotheists means to affirm that there is only one God, the same for the entire cosmos and humanity. Before the Exile, this was not the case: it is said that Israel was ‘monolatristic’; that is, it recognised for itself a single God, the God of the Sinai Covenant. But it believed that other peoples had their own gods. This psalm was therefore probably composed after the return from the Exile, and it was not in the throne room that these acclamations resounded, but in the rebuilt Temple of Jerusalem. Even now, the Jews already imagine the Day when God will finally be recognised for what He is, the Father of all goodness. We Christians, in turn, take up this psalm. And the phrase “God ascends amidst the acclamations” is most fitting for the celebration of the Ascension of Jesus Christ. Even though Christ’s kingship has not yet been fully realised and the evangelists do not recount any coronation ceremony for Christ. All the more reason to pay Jesus this magnificent tribute now, which merely anticipates the last day when all the children of God, finally gathered together, will sing: “All you peoples, clap your hands! Acclaim God with shouts of joy” 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (1:17–23)

The Letter to the Ephesians is divided into two parts: in chapters 1–3 there is a lengthy contemplation of God’s plan, and in chapters 4–6 an exhortation to the baptised to conform their lives to this mystery. For the feast of the the Ascension, the liturgy offers a passage from the first part in Year A and from the second part in Year B. The first part begins with a lengthy blessing formula in the Jewish style, which in our Christian liturgy we might call a ‘preface’, and it concerns God’s ‘merciful plan’ (Eph 1:3–6). The baptised already share in this mysterious plan of God which, one day, will be extended to all humanity. And Paul speaks of the privilege of us Christians who, having heard the word of truth, that is, the Gospel, have received the seal of the Holy Spirit, a pledge of our inheritance, whilst we await full redemption.  We find all these terms in today’s reading, but in the form of a prayer, generally known as the ‘prayer for enlightenment’, since it takes the light of God to penetrate even a little into this mystery: “May he enlighten the eyes of your heart so that you may understand to what hope he has called you, what treasure of glory his inheritance among the saints holds…” And we know full well that the understanding of which he speaks is not a matter of reason but of the heart, a profound openness to being taught and enlightened. And Paul, as a Jew, knows full well that God’s wisdom is inaccessible to man unless God himself reveals himself to him: “May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation for a deeper knowledge of him.” And what lies at the end of this knowledge towards which we are journeying? An inheritance of inestimable value, says Paul. The word “inheritance” in verse 18, and indeed in verse 14, recurs frequently in the Bible: in the Old Testament it refers to the land promised by God to the faithful. The same term is taken up in the New Testament, particularly in Paul’s letters, to denote the Kingdom and eternal life. For example: “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God. And if we are children, we are also heirs: heirs of God, joint-heirs with Christ’ (Rom 8:16–17). ‘Giving thanks with joy to the Father who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light’ (Col 1:12). ‘ All nations are called, in Christ Jesus, to share in the same inheritance, to form the same body and to be partakers of the same promise through the Gospel” (Eph 3:8). James also develops this theme: “Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world, who are rich in faith and heirs of the Kingdom, promised to those who love him?” (Jas 2:5) .  And the Letter to the Hebrews, for its part, often takes up the theme: “God, who in times past spoke to our ancestors many times and in various ways through the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us through his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things and through whom he also made the world” (Heb 1:1–2); and a little further on: “That those who have been called may receive the eternal inheritance that was promised” (Heb 9:15) For, and this is the profound reason for Paul’s wonder, the Lord’s disciples are already associated with the triumph of their risen Master. Nothing in this world need frighten them any longer, for death has been conquered and the gates to eternal life are open. The work that God accomplishes in the hearts of believers is a true inner resurrection. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew 28:16–20

Here is Jesus’ farewell discourse, after the Resurrection, in Galilee, commonly called the ‘crossroads of the Gentiles’, the ‘Galilee of the nations’, for the Apostles’ mission now concerns ‘all nations’ . The Gospel of Matthew seems to end abruptly: but in reality, the adventure is just beginning. It is like a film in which the word “THE END” appears on a road stretching out towards infinity. For it is precisely towards infinity that Jesus sends them: the immensity of the world and the infinity of the ages. “Go… Make disciples of all nations… Until the end of the world.” But were the disciples ready for such a mission? If Jesus were a business leader, he could not risk entrusting the future of his enterprise to collaborators like these, who seem not to have fully absorbed all the training he had provided over months. They are mistaken about the objective, the timing, and the nature of the enterprise. They even go so far as to doubt the reality they are experiencing, for Matthew clearly states, “some, however, doubted” (Mt 28:17). The mission entrusted to them, fraught with risks, is to promote a message that still surprises them. Folly, the wise would say; the wisdom of God, Saint Paul would reply. This is certainly no trivial undertaking: it surpasses everything the human spirit can imagine or conceive. It is a matter of communication between God and humankind. He who kindled the spark entrusts to his disciples the task of spreading the fire: “Go! Make disciples of all nations: baptise them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”: we do not often have the opportunity to dwell on this extraordinary formula of our faith. It is, in fact, the first formulation of the mystery of the Trinity: the expression “in the name of”, common in the Bible, signifies that there is indeed one God; at the same time, the three Persons are named and clearly distinguished: “ In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”. If we recall that, in the Bible, the Name is the person, and that to baptise etymologically means “to immerse”, this means that Baptism literally immerses us in the Trinity. We understand Jesus’s peremptory command to his disciples: “Go”; there is urgency. How can we not be eager to see all humanity take advantage of this offer? At the same time, it must be said that this formula, so familiar to us, was a true revolution for the generation of Christ! Proof of this is that when the apostles Peter and John healed the lame man at the Beautiful Gate, the authorities immediately asked: “By what power or in whose name have you done this?” (Acts 4:7), because it was not permitted to invoke any name other than that of God. Jesus speaks precisely of God, but his statement mentions three persons, whereas God was one; the prophets had made this clear enough. The Jews’ misunderstanding of Christ’s followers is recorded here; persecution was inevitable. Jesus knows this, and he had warned them on the last evening: “ They will expel you from the synagogues; indeed, the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think they are offering worship to God, that is, they will think they are defending God’s honour (Jn 16:2)… And Jesus added: ‘They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me’ (Jn 16:3). The mission entrusted to the apostles truly seems like madness; but they are not alone, and this must never be forgotten. Insofar as our commitment is not our own but His, we have no reason to worry about the results: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go!” (Mt 28:18–19). In other words, it is we who go, but it is he who has all power. It is said that a few days after his election, John XXIII received a visit from a friend: “Most Holy Father,” he said, “how heavy the task must be!” John XXIII replied: “It’s true, in the evening, when I lie down, I think: ‘Angelo, you are the Pope,’ and I struggle to fall asleep; but after a few minutes I say to myself: ‘Angelo, how stupid you are, you are not the one in charge of the Church, it is the Holy Spirit.’ Then I turn over and fall asleep!” For us too, evangelisation must be our passion, not our anguish. Jesus made it quite clear: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” This sentence alone sums up the life of Christ: this takes place on a mountain, we do not know which one, but it evokes both the Mount of Temptation and the Mount of Transfiguration. On the Mount of Temptation, Jesus refused to receive power over creation from anyone other than the Father: “The devil took him up to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour, and said to him: “All these things I will give you if you will fall down and worship me.” Then Jesus answered him, ‘Be gone, Satan! For it is written: “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him alone shall you serve”’ (cf. Mt 4:8–10). This power, which Jesus did not claim nor purchase, is given to him by the Father. And now this power is in our hands! “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go! And Jesus adds, ‘I am with you always, even to the end of the age.’ The God of Presence revealed to Moses in the burning bush, the Emmanuel – which means ‘God with us’ – promised by Isaiah, are one in the Spirit of love that unites them. Ours is the mission to reveal to the world this loving presence of the Triune God.

Seventh Sunday in Easter  (year A)  [17 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (1:12–14)

The first sentence of the text sums up in a few words a crucial stage in the lives of the early Christians. For us it is the Ascension and we have made it a feast day, but, originally, was it not rather a day of mourning, a day of great departure? After the horror of Jesus’ Passion and death, after the splendour of the Resurrection, here they were, orphaned forever. But precisely for this reason they are closer to us, and their attitude can guide our own. Let us therefore look closely at their actions. Jesus had given them instructions: not to leave Jerusalem and to wait there for the gift of the Holy Spirit. Here is the account from the Acts: ‘While he was at table with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the fulfilment of the Father’s promise. “‘What,’ he said, ‘you have heard from me: John baptised with water, but you will be baptised in the Holy Spirit in a few days’” . And on the very day of his departure, on the Mount of Olives, he repeated: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” I dwell on this expression “the power of the Spirit”, which should reassure us in every circumstance. And Luke recounts: “Having said this, whilst they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him from their sight.” Obviously, they obeyed the Master’s command. It is therefore no surprise to find them in Jerusalem shortly afterwards; Luke notes that the Mount of Olives is very close to the city: the distance does not exceed what is known as the ‘Sabbath journey’, that is, the maximum distance one may travel without violating the Sabbath rest; it was just under a kilometre, two thousand cubits, and a cubit, as the name suggests, is the length of the forearm, about fifty centimetres. But why does Luke give this precise measurement? Are we to infer that it was the Sabbath? Or, by emphasising the proximity of the Mount of Olives, does Luke wish to suggest that everything is fulfilled in Jerusalem? It is there that God’s plan is fulfilled: there the Son was glorified, there the Covenant between God and humanity was renewed, there the Spirit will be given. It is in the holy city, therefore, that the life of the nascent Church begins; and Luke lists those who make up the group: the Eleven, some women, including Mary, the mother of Jesus, and some brothers, that is, probably disciples. Here too, the details are not merely anecdotal; we already knew the names of the apostles from Luke’s Gospel; if he gives us the list again, it is not to instruct us! Luke wishes to highlight the continuity within the community of the apostles: they are the very same who accompanied Jesus throughout his earthly life, and now they are committed to the mission. And they will be able to bear witness to the Resurrection only because they have been witnesses to the life, Passion and death of Jesus. We thus find again the group of people so different from one another whom Jesus had chosen: Peter, James, John and Andrew, fishermen on the Sea of Tiberias; Simon the Zealot—at the time of Jesus’ earthly life, this was not yet a political commitment, but it was already a sign of religious fanaticism. One wonders how he could stand alongside Matthew the tax collector, a tax collector in the pay of the occupying power and, for this reason, barred from worship! Not only did Jesus manage to bring them together around him, but they will now share the responsibility of continuing their Master’s mission. Christian tradition has identified Bartholomew with Nathanael, mentioned by Saint John, who was a specialist in the Law; if this were the case, it would have been a further point of diversity within the group of the Twelve. It is upon this community of men, so different from one another, that the proclamation of the Gospel now rests. A few brief observations: first of all, their group is not closed in on itself, but is already open to others, men and women; secondly, they begin this life of the Church in prayer, ‘devoted and of one accord’, as Luke emphasises. Perhaps the first miracle of the apostles is this praying together as one heart at the moment when the Master leaves them, and they find themselves seemingly left to their own devices and to their differences, which could have turned into divisions. In truth, they are only apparently left to their own devices: Jesus, though now invisible, is not absent. Matthew, in his Gospel, has preserved one of Jesus’ final words: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’ The apostles, therefore, do not pray for Jesus to draw near: his presence is assured; they pray to immerse themselves once more in his presence. This account from the Acts of the Apostles becomes for us a powerful lesson in hope: Jesus is with us always, his presence is assured, and the power of the Holy Spirit accompanies us! 

Responsorial Psalm (26/27)

This psalm is for those going through difficult times. Believers are not exempt from life’s trials, and faith is no magic wand. Sometimes they suffer precisely because of their faith, as in religious wars or persecutions, or due to the hostility of atheists and the struggle to defend Christian values in a world that does not share them. We shall find an example of this in the Letter of Saint Peter, this Sunday’s second reading. But in their trials, believers know they are not alone, abandoned to their sad fate, for they have someone to turn to: “It is to God that my eyes weep,” said Job (Job 16:20). And they go to seek strength where it is found, that is, in God. “The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear?” We do not know to which specific trials this psalm alludes; incidentally, it is much longer than the few verses read here, but the missing verses provide no historical details. Here and there one senses an allusion to external attacks: “The Lord is the bulwark of my life: before whom should I tremble?”. Ever since the great adventure of the Exodus, Israel has been threatened in its very existence on numerous occasions. The first verse, “The Lord is my light and my salvation”, is probably also an allusion to the Exodus under Moses’s leadership: in the Sinai desert, the pillar of cloud lit the way and signified God’s presence. Salvation, then, meant escaping from Pharaoh; in every age, salvation takes different forms, and Israel has experienced all manner of them, evoked through allusions in the psalm. To say “The Lord is the bulwark of my life” brings to mind the long period of wars, and the best bulwark is the strength that God gives us. “If you do not believe, you will not stand firm,” Isaiah said to King Ahaz (Is 7:9). Faith is the only strength that enables us to face everything: “Whom shall I fear?”. This means that God protects us from all fear and that we do not even fear Him. In all trials and sufferings, the believer knows that they can cry out to God: indeed, it is even recommended in the Bible, for groaning, weeping and praying is not cowardly, but simply human, and it is to God that we must groan, weep and pray. “Hear, O Lord, I call upon you,” says the psalm, and of one thing the chosen people are certain: that God hears our cry. Let us think of the great revelation of the Burning Bush: “The cry of the children of Israel has come to me,” God said to Moses (Ex. 3:7–9). And from that day Israel has known that God hears the cry of those who suffer. We read in the psalm: “One thing I have asked of the Lord, this alone I seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life”: like the Levite, admitted into the inner sanctum of the temple in Jerusalem, Israel asks for the grace to dwell in the presence of God. “Have mercy, answer me,” is a beggar’s cry and also a plea for forgiveness, for the expression that follows, “Seek my face,” is a call to conversion; for ever since settling in the Promised Land, the people have faced a new danger: that of unfaithfulness, that is, idolatry. However, when we read “Seek my face”, it is not God who thirsts for our homage and asks something of us for his own sake. God loves us, and all the commandments are for our happiness. St Augustine states: “Everything that man does for God benefits man and not God”. For God, the centre of the world is humanity, and He has no other purpose than our happiness—a happiness we find only when God is at the centre of our lives, for as St Augustine said: “You have made us for Yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” It is interesting to compare Psalm 26/27 with the Canticle of Zechariah, which we sing every morning in the Liturgy of the Hours.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (4:13–16)

In the early days of the Church, as we know from the Acts of the Apostles, the first disciples of Christ did not yet bear this name; they were called ‘Nazarenes’, because of Nazareth, and this name, used by the Jews who refused to recognise Jesus of Nazareth as the Messiah awaited by Israel, was a derogatory term. Later, when Barnabas and Paul were carrying out their mission in Antioch of Syria, it was probably pagans who had not yet converted to the Christian Church who gave Jesus’ disciples the name ‘Christians’, which means ‘of Christ, belonging to Christ’. This new title of ‘Christian’ was not an honour either. The unconverted pagans viewed with suspicion the radical change of life taking place within the community of the baptised. Shortly before, in his letter, Peter writes: ‘They find it strange that you no longer rush with them towards the same torrent of perdition, and they revile you’; ‘They slander you, treating you as evildoers’. Here, Saint Peter speaks of the sufferings—that is, the misunderstanding, the isolation, the slander—of which Jesus was a victim because he continued to proclaim his message without letting anyone stop him, with that fidelity that cost him his life. In turn, the early Christians face the same hostility, and Peter seeks to give them the courage to hold firm whilst awaiting the day when the glory of Christ will be revealed—that is, the day when Jesus will come to inaugurate his kingdom among men. Peter goes even further: not only must one not be ashamed, but on the contrary, the title of ‘Christian’ is, in his eyes, the highest dignity: “Rejoice,” he tells them, because of the name ‘Christian’, which means ‘belonging to Christ’. Furthermore, when he says: “To the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice…” he is speaking of the Beatitudes proclaimed by Jesus: “Blessed are you when they revile you, persecute you and, lying, say all sorts of evil against you on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great!” . And Jesus, in saying this, was describing himself. Now Peter applies this description to those who, in turn, bear the name of Christ. He even says that “you share in the sufferings of Christ”, which means: “rejoice because you are intimately united with Christ in these sufferings you endure to remain faithful to his name and his mission. And since you are united to his sufferings, you will likewise be united to his glory on the day when the truth will burst forth.” It is clear, however, that suffering is not an end in itself, but the goal is to be united to Christ and to God in the Spirit of love, whatever the circumstances—happy or unhappy—may be in our lives. And Peter points to a way of facing persecution for the sake of Christ’s name: “To the extent that you share in the sufferings of Christ, rejoice…”. Here is a proclamation and an encouragement, for the day will come when Christ will be recognised by all, and you along with him; and on that day it will be recognised that you were not mistaken because Christ had deceived you. We therefore need the courage to persevere, for you have chosen the right path. The Book of Acts recounts that after being flogged, Peter and John “left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing that they had been counted worthy to suffer dishonour for the name of Jesus”. Peter was only able to do this after Pentecost: one must be filled with the Spirit of Jesus to have the courage to face persecution in his name and to know that mysterious joy of being in communion with him, even in suffering, that joy which no one can take from us! The Church offers us this text from Peter as we await Pentecost, a special time for rediscovering the role of the Holy Spirit in the life of our communities. 

From the Gospel according to John (17:1b-11a)

These final words of Jesus: “I am coming to you” mysteriously draw us into Jesus’ prayer at the very moment he is about to reach the Father: “I am coming to you”. It is the Hour of the great passage: “Father, the hour has come”, that Hour of which he spoke many times during his earthly life, that Hour which he seemed both to desire and to fear. It is the decisive Hour, central to all human history, the Hour which all creation awaits as a birth: for it is the Hour of the fulfilment of God’s plan. From now on, nothing will ever be the same again. In this decisive Hour, the mystery of the Father will finally be revealed to the world: this is why Jesus repeatedly uses the words “glory” and “glorify”. A person’s glory, in the biblical sense, is not their fame or the recognition of others; it is their true worth. The glory of God is therefore God Himself, who reveals Himself to mankind in all the splendour of His holiness. The verb ‘to glorify’ can be replaced with ‘to reveal’. In this decisive Hour, God will be glorified, revealed in the Son, and believers will finally ‘know’ the Father; they will enter into that intimacy which unites the Son to the Father, and which the Son communicates to mankind. Those who accept this revelation and believe in Jesus will enter into this intimacy with the Father: they will enter into true life: “Eternal life is that they may know you, the one true God, and the one whom you have sent, Jesus Christ”. Here, from the very mouth of Jesus, is a definition of eternal life: Jesus speaks in the present tense and describes eternal life as the state of those who know God and Christ. We already live this life from the moment of our Baptism. Speaking of his disciples, Jesus says: “They have truly known that I came from you, and they have believed that you sent me.”  At that moment, only a portion of humanity received this revelation and entered into the communion of love offered by the Father, accepting to take the path opened by the Son; and it is for these few alone that Jesus prays: “I pray for them; I do not pray for the world, but for those whom you have given me…” It is the mystery of God’s choices that is repeated: just as the Father had chosen Abraham to reveal his great plan to him, he chose certain members of Abraham’s lineage to bring the revelation of his mystery to fulfilment: “I have made your name known to the people you have given me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you…” . For this small chosen people, the hour has come to continue the work of revelation: “I am no longer in the world; they, however, are in the world, and I am coming to you.” Jesus passes the baton to us in a way: he has given us everything; now it is up to us to give it to others. We must let Jesus’ insistence on the word “give” resound within us: the Father has given authority to the Son… the Son will give eternal life to mankind… the Father has given mankind to the Son… the Father has given his words to the Son… and the Son has given these words to his brothers. Jesus’ emphasis on the verb ‘to give’ permeates the entire biblical meditation: our relationship with God is not a matter of calculation. It is enough for us to allow ourselves to be loved and continually filled with his grace. The word ‘grace’ means a free gift. The logic of the gift, of gratuitousness, is that of the Son who lives eternally in a dialogue of love with the Father. In the prologue to his Gospel, John says that the Son is eternally ‘turned towards the Father’ (Jn 1:18) (“No one has ever seen God; the only Son, who is in the Father’s bosom, he has made him known.” The expression “in the Father’s bosom” (from the Greek eis ton kolpon tou Patros) is interpreted as: “turned towards the Father”, “in intimate communion with the Father”, “in the Father’s intimacy”. Thus the idea that the Son is eternally “turned towards the Father” arises from this verse, even though the expression “turned towards the Father” is a theological paraphrase, not a literal quotation. And since there is no shadow between them, he reflects the Father’s glory: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”. Between them, everything is love, dialogue, sharing: “All that is mine is yours, and all that is yours is mine”. The Prologue of John’s Gospel is illuminated by the reading of this prayer of Jesus; it is, as it were, its transposition (Jn 1:1–18).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

6th Easter Sunday (year A)  [10 May 2026] 

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (8:5–8, 14–17)

Let me return to the first sentence: ‘Philip, one of the Seven’, that is, one of the seven men appointed to organise the distribution of food in Jerusalem. In practical terms, the issue was ensuring a fair distribution of what amounted to a food bank for widows. Last Sunday we saw that a problem had arisen among the very first Christians. After Jesus’ Resurrection, all those who followed the apostles and asked for baptism were Jews, either by birth or converts to Judaism (those known as proselytes). But there were already great differences amongst them. Among these Jews, some were originally from Israel, and in particular from Jerusalem, and spoke Hebrew in the synagogue and Aramaic on the street: they were called Jews. The others were from the Diaspora, that is, the rest of the Roman Empire: they spoke Greek and were called Hellenists. For the celebration of the Sabbath, all Jews, whether they had become Christians or not, would go to the synagogues: Jews on one side, Hellenists on the other. But for Christian celebrations, the Jews who had become Christians would gather in private homes, Hellenists and Jews together. It was in the context of these Christian celebrations that a first dispute broke out between these two groups of Christians, concerning the aid given to widows. And, to resolve it, seven men were appointed to be in charge of the distribution of food (today we might say ‘material matters’). That was last Sunday’s reading. Among these seven men, Stephen and Philip—both Jews who had recently become Christians—were ardent, fervent Hellenists and were likely recognised as leaders; they sought to convert to Jesus Christ the Jews who attended the synagogues where Greek was spoken, and it was there that a second dispute arose. Not a dispute between Christians of different origins, but a far more serious one between Hellenistic Jews (that is, Jews of the Diaspora): a dispute pitting those who believe in Jesus of Nazareth, the unrecognised Messiah, crucified and risen, against those who continue to think that Jesus was nothing but an impostor. And that is where the first persecution begins: the Jews who refuse to believe in Jesus Christ attack their Jewish brothers who have become Christians. Stephen is martyred: denounced by Hellenistic Jews to the authorities in Jerusalem, he is arrested and executed. Stephen’s martyrdom does not quell the fury of his opponents; on the contrary, they will turn their wrath upon the other Christians in Stephen’s group. This very first persecution does not target Jesus’s direct apostles—Peter, John, James and the others who are part of the Jewish group; it targets only the Hellenists. Thus, Jesus’ apostles were not disturbed and remained in Jerusalem, continuing to practise the Jewish religion whilst preaching in the name of Jesus. Instead, out of prudence, the Hellenist group dispersed: those most at risk moved away, but naturally, wherever they went, they spoke of the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth. And so, thanks to the persecution, the Good News spreads beyond Jerusalem and reaches the other cities of Judea and Samaria. Later, people will recall Jesus’ final words on the day of the Ascension: ‘You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth’ (Acts 1:8). This is exactly what is happening: paradoxically, it is this trial—the persecution and scattering of the community—that allows evangelisation to gain ground. This is why Philip went down to Samaria, and instead of hiding, he began to preach, quickly going beyond the mission entrusted to him. At first, Philip was chosen to be one of the Seven charged with the service of the widows’ tables in Jerusalem, and we find him preaching in Samaria. At the same time, he remains visibly in contact with those who entrusted him with his mission, for the Jerusalem community sends Peter and John to him, who will in a sense authenticate the work accomplished by Philip. This takes place in Samaria, and we know just how much the people of Jerusalem despised the Samaritans: they regarded them as heretics; for centuries, Jews and Samaritans had carefully nurtured their quarrels and mutual contempt. Philip is not troubled by these old quarrels: he, the man of the Diaspora, is undoubtedly far removed from these theological disputes and, in any case, thanks to him, the Gospel has just crossed the boundaries of the synagogue. Instead, he emphasises the joy of the Samaritans in receiving the Good News 

Responsorial Psalm (65/66) 

We have heard only a few verses of the twenty that make up Psalm 65/66, yet the long journey of the faithful is summarised here in three stages. The first is suggested in verse 6 with the reference to the Exodus, the departure from Egypt with Moses: “He turned the sea into dry land”, then the entry into the Promised Land under the guidance of Joshua, with the miracle of the drying up of the Jordan: “They crossed the river on dry ground”. When one reads the Psalms carefully, one is struck by the abundance of echoes of the Exodus, which is the foundation of Israel’s faith experience and thus of its hope. In the second stage, the psalmist invites his contemporaries to prayer, praise and the sharing of the faith experience: “Come, listen, all you who fear God; I will tell you what he has done for my soul” . Third stage: the whole earth is invited to join in the praise of God: “Praise God, all the earth; celebrate the glory of his name, glorify him by singing his praises. Say to God: How awesome are your works!” It is not the first time that Israel’s prayer has expanded to encompass the whole earth, that is, all humanity. The chosen people have come to understand over time that their mission is to bring all peoples into the joy of God. Isaiah says: “My house shall be called a ‘House of prayer for all peoples’” (Is 56:7). In the psalm, one already senses a kind of anticipation of that day, as if all peoples were already part of the procession of pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem: ‘The whole earth bows down before you, sings to you, sings to your name.’ This psalm looks at once to the past, the present and the future... In the past, God freed his people from slavery in Egypt. Today, he liberates at every moment those who allow him to act; in the future, all humanity will be definitively freed from the chains that currently bind it in fear and war. This psalm thus introduces us to what the historical dimension of the faith experience represents for the Jewish people. And, as always in the biblical world, the collective dimension takes precedence over the individual experience. From the earliest age, the Jewish child shares in the memory of his people: daily prayers, the Sabbath, festivals and pilgrimages evoke a collective memory into which the child is gradually immersed; he hears adults singing the glory of God and recounting His mighty deeds countless times, and one day, in turn, quite naturally, he too will take up the baton. They hear their elders say: “Blessed be God who has not rejected my prayer, nor turned his love away from me.” They will remember the deeds of God who freed their ancestors from slavery in Egypt: He turned the sea into dry land, and they crossed the river on dry ground. The adults’ day, from morning prayer to evening prayer, passing through meals and all the acts of daily life, is steeped in this memory of the God who frees from all bondage. The Jewish child enters quite naturally into the ‘memory’ of his people, but all this presupposes family life and a strong sense of belonging to a people.  Here, perhaps, lies one of the keys to our problems in passing on the faith: it is precisely this collective memory that is lacking in many of our young Christians. The memory of a people is not a matter for religious education classes, however excellent they may be, but a matter of community life, of repeated rituals, of slow assimilation; and we can clearly see how grave the dangers of individualism are. At the same time, we know what remains for us to do if we wish to pass on the faith to the new generations: it is urgent that we return to imbuing the whole of family life with this faith-filled memory and give renewed vigour to our Christian communities.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (3:15–18)

Reading between the lines of this text, one can imagine that Peter’s listeners were suffering harassment and ridicule at the hands of the pagans; not overt persecution, but latent hostility, and they had to explain time and again why they rejected certain pagan practices, such as sacrifices to pagan deities. Peter tells them: ‘Brothers, it is now your turn to behave as Christ behaved. He too faced accusations, slander and threats, yet he did not waver; now it is your turn, and you must be able to stand firm against your adversaries.

Where will this steadfast courage come from? Christians have but one source, one argument, one message: Christ died and rose again. Peter says nothing else: “Worship the Lord, Christ, in your hearts… For Christ too died once and for all for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you back to God; put to death in the body, but made alive in the spirit”. The body, the flesh, in biblical language, signify human weakness, the fact of being mortal. It is difficult for enemies to understand that Jesus died and rose again. Christians explained that, because he was filled with the Spirit of God, death could not hold him in its power, and the Spirit enabled him to pass through biological death and brought life to him—the gift of the Spirit of life which had been manifested upon him on the day of Jesus’ Baptism. This same Spirit, who entered us through Baptism, enables us to overcome evil, hatred and sadness, and this is our hope—the hope of which Peter says we must give an account at all times. Christ had said to the Apostles: “Take heart; I have overcome the world.” The witness the world expects from us is that evil is not inevitable, and for this reason we must never give up in the face of evil, hatred and violence. Christ suffered for our sins once and for all, and the expression ‘once and for all’ is a cry of victory: the world of evil and sin is definitively conquered through the obedience of the Son. Peter strongly links the two aspects of Christian witness: prayer is what takes place in the secret of the heart, and then there is the public courage of witness; the first cannot exist without the other. “Worship the holiness of Christ in your hearts” is what takes place in the secret of prayer, from which we shall draw the boldness needed to proclaim our hope through our lives: “Always be ready to give an answer to anyone who asks you to give an account of the hope that is within you.” Peter advises us not to speak first, but to be ready to answer the questions of those who ask. This phrase comes to mind: “Do not speak unless you are asked, but live in such a way that they ask you.” If life becomes a true witness to hope, those who meet you will wonder where such indestructible hope comes from. It is therefore not possible to bear witness to Jesus unless we live this hope, which means that witness is given first and foremost through deeds and not through words. Jesus says: “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Mt 5:16). Saint Paul VI noted that our contemporaries seek witnesses, not teachers… and they listen to teachers only if they are witnesses. A witness given with “gentleness and respect”, Pietro emphasises, which must never desert us so that “those who slander our good conduct in Christ may be put to shame”. 

From the Gospel according to John (14:15–21)

On the evening of Holy Thursday, after the washing of the feet, Jesus speaks at length with his disciples for the last time. He speaks of the Father and of the relationship that unites him, the Son, to the Father, but he also speaks of the bond that now unites the apostles to his Father and to him. A bond that nothing and no one can destroy: “I am in my Father, you are in me and I am in you… Whoever loves me will be loved by my Father”.

And as he prepares to leave them, he announces the coming of the Spirit. The apostles recalled the prophecies of Ezekiel: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you” (Ezek 36:26) and “I will no longer hide my face from them, for I will have poured out my Spirit upon the house of Israel” (Ezek 39:29). With Joel, the promise of the gift of the Spirit had become universal: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh” (Joel 3:1). When Jesus says, “The Spirit of truth remains with you, and will be in you”, he announces that the great day of the definitive Covenant has arrived. These words of his evoke Israel’s long wait, for the aspiration of all Old Testament believers was the presence of God in the midst of his people. There had been the Tabernacle during the Exodus, then the Temple in Jerusalem, but they awaited the New Covenant in which God would dwell not in buildings, but in the hearts of his people, intimately present in every believing heart. God had promised this through the mouth of Ezekiel, for example: ‘My dwelling place will be with them; I will be their God, and they will be my people’ (Ezek 37:27) and Zechariah: ‘Sing and rejoice, O daughter of Zion; behold, I am coming to dwell among you’ (Zech 2:14). The apostles were imbued with this hope: they knew that the definitive Covenant promised in the Old Testament was intended for all humanity, and during his public life, Jesus had repeatedly expressed the desire that the whole world might be saved. But why does he say that the world is incapable of receiving the Spirit of truth, and why does he say this at this very decisive moment of salvation? It is certainly not a value judgement, but an observation: The world cannot receive him, because it neither sees nor knows him. But Jesus continues: you, however, know him, because he dwells with you and will be in you. This is a sending forth on mission, for it is as if he were saying: “The world does not know the Spirit of truth… It is up to you to make him known; it is up to you to help people discover the active presence of the Spirit in every human reality”. Jesus wants to strengthen his disciples: to help them believe that the contagion of love will gradually prevail and that it is possible to transform the spirit of the world into the spirit of love. In a way, the mission he entrusts to his disciples is evangelisation by contagion, from person to person. This will be possible because Jesus assures them: “I will pray to the Father and he will give you another Paraclete to remain with you forever”. In Greek, “parakletos” refers to one who is called to stand by an accused person to assist them: he is the comforter, the intercessor, the counsellor, the advocate, the defender. An advocate for a trial, but what trial are we talking about? The one in which the world acts against Christ’s disciples, and through them, against the Father himself and against Christ. Ultimately, it is the trial of “Truth”. Hence Jesus’ insistence on the word “truth” whenever he warns his disciples of the persecutions that await them: “When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who proceeds from the Father, he will bear witness to me; and you also will bear witness, because you have been with me from the beginning” (Jn 15:26–27).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

5th Easter Sunday (year A)  [3 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (6:1-7)

Paradoxically, the problem facing the early Christian community arose from its very success. In those days, as the number of disciples grew, the Greek-speaking believers began to grumble against the Hebrew-speaking ones (Acts 6:1). The numbers were growing so rapidly that maintaining unity became difficult. Every expanding group faces the same question: how to remain united when numbers grow? Numerous, and therefore diverse. In truth, the seeds of this difficulty were already present on the morning of Pentecost. In Jerusalem lived devout Jews from every nation under heaven (cf. Acts 2:5). On that day there were three thousand conversions, and others followed in the months and years that followed. All were Jews, for the question of non-Jews arose only later, but many were Jews who had come to Jerusalem on pilgrimage from all over the Empire. These were the Jews of the Diaspora known as Hellenists: their mother tongue was neither Hebrew nor Aramaic, but Greek, which was then the common language throughout the Mediterranean. Thus, the young community immediately found itself facing the ‘challenge of languages’. And we know that the language barrier is much more than a mere difficulty of translation: a different mother tongue means different cultures, customs, and ways of understanding life and solving problems. If language is a net cast over the reality of things, a different language is another net, and the meshes rarely coincide. The practical problem that arose in Jerusalem was the care of widows. Looking after them was a rule of the Jewish world and the community did so willingly, but those managing the service, recruited from the majority Hebrew-speaking group, tended to favour the widows of their own group, whilst the Greek-speaking widows were neglected. These complaints could only grow more bitter, until they reached the ears of the apostles. Their reaction can be summarised in three points. First: they summoned the entire assembly of disciples because every decision is taken in plenary session, given that the Church functions synodally: Why then has this been lost? Second: they recalled the objective. It is a matter of remaining faithful to three demands of apostolic life: prayer, the ministry of the Word and the service of the brothers and sisters. Third: they are not afraid to propose a new organisation. Innovation is not unfaithfulness; on the contrary: faithfulness demands the ability to adapt to new circumstances. Being faithful does not mean remaining fixated on the past, for example by entrusting all tasks to the Twelve simply because they were chosen by Jesus. Being faithful means keeping one’s eyes fixed on the goal, and the goal, as the evangelist John writes, is ‘that they may be one so that the world may believe’ (Jn 17:21). Accepting diversity is the challenge facing every growing community, and when conflicts arise, splitting up is not the best solution; this is why the apostles do not consider dividing the community in two, with Greeks on one side and Jews on the other. The Holy Spirit has brought about numerous and diverse conversions and now inspires the apostles to organise themselves differently to deal with the consequences. The Twelve therefore decide to appoint men capable of taking on the task of serving at the tables, since that is where the problem arises: “Brothers, choose seven of you, men respected by all, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, and we will entrust this task to them. We, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and the ministry of the Word’. The seven chosen all bear Greek names: they were therefore almost certainly part of the group of Greek-speaking Christians, from whom the complaints had come. Thus a new institution is born: these servants of the community do not yet have a title, and the text does not use the word ‘deacon’. Although we must not be too quick to identify these men with today’s deacons, one thing remains clear: in every age, the Spirit inspires innovations that are indispensable for faithfully fulfilling the Church’s various missions and priorities. 

Responsorial Psalm (32/33)

I shall begin where the reading of this psalm ends, for there lies a key to understanding the whole. I return to the penultimate verse, verse 18: “The Lord’s eye is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love.” Here we discover a beautiful definition of “fear of God”: to fear the Lord is simply to place our hope in his love. The believer, in the biblical sense, is a person full of hope; and if they are so, whatever happens, it is because they know that ‘the earth is full of his love’, as verse 5, which we have just heard, says. Knowing that the Lord’s loving gaze is always upon us is the source of our hope. I should point out that, in the Hebrew text, the name ‘Lord’ is the one revealed to Moses in the burning bush: the four-letter name YHWH which, out of respect, Jews never pronounce, and which means something like ‘I am, I will be with you, from everlasting to everlasting, in every moment of your history’. This name reminds Israel of the care with which God surrounded his people throughout the Exodus. If we translate it as ‘God watches over’, this vigilance is well conveyed. Thus we understand the following verse: ‘to deliver him from death and sustain him in times of famine’ (v. 19). These are allusions to the exodus from Egypt: by leading the people across the sea on dry ground behind Moses, the Lord saved the people from the certain death decreed by the Pharaoh; then, by sending manna from heaven in the desert, he truly nourished his people in times of famine. Then praise flows spontaneously from the heart of those who have experienced God’s care: “Rejoice, O righteous ones, in the Lord; for the upright, praise is beautiful” (v. 1). The expression “the upright” may surprise us, yet it is common in the Bible. One is considered upright/righteous who enters into God’s plan, who is united with God like a well-tuned musical instrument. This is said of Abraham: Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6). He had faith, that is, he trusted in God and in his plan. Therefore, we could translate “righteous men”, in Hebrew hassidim, as “the men of the Covenant”, or “the men of God’s merciful plan”: those who have accepted the revelation of God’s benevolence and respond to it by adhering to the Covenant. These titles, “righteous men” and “upright men”, do not denote moral qualities, for the hassid is a man like any other, a sinner like any other, but he lives within the Lord’s Covenant; he lives in trust in the faithful God. And since he has discovered the God of tenderness and faithfulness, quite logically he lives in praise: “Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous; praise is fitting for the upright.” This call to praise was the entrance hymn of a liturgy of thanksgiving. We note in passing an indication of how the psalms were performed and of at least one of the instruments used in the Temple of Jerusalem: this psalm was probably intended to be accompanied by a ten-stringed harp. Singing a new song to the Lord does not mean a song never heard before, but a new song in the sense that words of love, even the most familiar ones, are always new. When lovers say ‘I love you’, they are not afraid to repeat the same words, and yet the wonder is that that song is always new. One more note: “The word of the Lord is upright, and all his works are trustworthy” (v. 4). Contrary to appearances, these are not two separate statements, one concerning the word of God and the other concerning his works, because in the Bible the Word of God is already an act in progress: “God said, and it was done,” repeats the account of creation in the first book of Genesis. It is no coincidence that this psalm has twenty-two verses, corresponding to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet: it is a tribute to the Word of God, as if to say that it is the whole of our life, from A to Z. And it is no empty compliment, for Israel recognises that from God’s first word to his people, Israel has simultaneously experienced how the promised Word of liberation is, at the same time, already God’s liberating intervention: in every age, the Word of God calls to freedom, and is at the same time a divine force acting within humanity to secure freedom from all idolatry and all slavery. Finally: “He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the Lord’s love” (v. 5). Here the vocation of the whole of creation is described: God is love, and the earth is called to be a place of love, righteousness and justice. Remember the prophet Micah: ‘O man, it has been taught to you what is good and what the Lord requires of you: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God’ (Mic 6:8).

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:4–9)

In Hebrew, the same verb is used to mean ‘to build a house’, ‘to found a family’ and ‘to found a society’. For this reason, even in the Old Testament, the prophets readily used the language of building to speak of human society. Isaiah, for example, devised a parable: he compared the kingdom of Jerusalem to a building site (Isaiah 28:16–17). On that site there was a remarkable block of stone that was meant to become the cornerstone of the building, but the architects scorned that block and preferred to use stones of poor quality. This was a way of accusing the authorities of abandoning true values to build society on false ones. Over time, it became customary to apply the term ‘cornerstone’ to the Messiah: he would be able to take over and restore God’s building site. Peter, in turn, develops this comparison to speak of Christ. Jesus, the Messiah, is truly the most precious stone that God has placed at the centre of the building; and all people are called upon to become stones in this spiritual edifice. Those who agree to become one with him are integrated into the structure, becoming supporting elements themselves. But of course this is a choice to be made, and people may also choose the opposite path, that is, to reject the project and even sabotage it. Then everything happens for them as if the keystone were not at the heart of the building: it has remained on the ground, an admirable block but a hindrance on the building site. The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone, a stumbling block and a stone of offence (cf. 1 Pet 2:7–8). Our Baptism was the moment of choice. Since then, we have been integrated into the building of what Peter calls the spiritual temple, as opposed to the stone temple in Jerusalem where animal sacrifices were offered. From the beginning of history, humanity has sought to reach God by worshipping him in the way it believes is worthy of him. Along its journey, the chosen people discovered the true face of God and learnt to live within his Covenant. Little by little, in the light of the prophets’ teaching, it was discovered that the true temple of God is humanity itself, and that the only worship worthy of him is love and service to our brothers and sisters, and no longer animal sacrifices. But this places a tremendous responsibility upon us: the temple in Jerusalem was the sign of God’s presence among his people. Now, the sign of God’s presence visible to the world is us, the Church of Christ. Peter’s words then resound as a vocation: “Like living stones, you too are being built into a spiritual house” (1 Pet 2:5). Peter distinguishes between those who entrust themselves to Christ and those who reject him. ‘Believing’ and ‘rejecting’ are two acts of free will, and those who do not accept Christ, Peter affirms, stumble because they do not obey the Word. This was their destiny (cf. v. 5); this phrase speaks only of the consequence of their free choice, not of predestination by God’s arbitrary decision: the liberating God can only respect our freedom. At the presentation of Jesus in the temple, Simeon had announced to Joseph and Mary: ‘He is here for the fall and the rising again of many in Israel’ (cf. Lk 2:34). Simeon does not speak of a necessity willed by God, but of the consequences of Jesus’ coming. In fact, his presence was for some an occasion of total conversion, whilst others hardened their hearts. Peter concludes: ‘ But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood” (1 Pet 2:9). On the day of our Baptism, grafted into Christ, we became members of Christ, the one true “priest, prophet and king”. United with him, we have become part of his holy people; we have acquired a new citizenship, that of the people of God, and our national anthem is now the Alleluia. Peter concludes by telling us that we are charged with proclaiming the marvellous works of the One who has called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.

From the Gospel according to John (14:1–12)

If Jesus begins by saying, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled’ (Jn 14:1), it is because the disciples were not hiding their anguish, and one can understand why. They knew they were surrounded by general hostility and sensed that the countdown had begun. This anguish was compounded, at least for some of them, by a terrible disappointment: “We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel” (from the Romans), the disciples of Emmaus would say (cf. Lk 24:21). The apostles shared this political hope; now their leader is about to be condemned and executed, and their illusions are coming to an end. Jesus sets about redirecting their hope: he will not fulfil the expectations his miracles have raised; he will not lead the national uprising against the occupier; on the contrary, he will not cease to preach non-violence. The liberation he has come to bring lies on another plane: he does not wish to fulfil his people’s earthly and political expectation of the Messiah, but to make them understand that he is the one who has always been awaited. He begins by appealing to their faith, that is, to that fundamental attitude of the Jewish people which we read of in all the psalms, for hope can rest firmly only on faith. This is why Jesus returns repeatedly to these words: ‘believe’, ‘let not your hearts be troubled (for) you believe in God’. Yet it is one thing to believe in God—and this is a given—and quite another to believe in Jesus, precisely at the moment when he seems to have definitively lost the battle. For his contemporaries, to accord Jesus the same faith as God required a tremendous leap, and Jesus seeks to help them perceive the profound unity existing between the Father and himself. Here we have the second key theme of this text: “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (a phrase he repeats twice). And then: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”, and this last phrase resonates in a very special way in the light of what will happen a few hours later, for the revelation of the Father reaches its climax when Jesus dies on the cross. As he dies, Jesus continues to love mankind, all mankind, and even forgives his executioners. It would be necessary to dwell on every sentence of this final conversation between Jesus and his disciples, indeed on each of the words laden with the whole of biblical experience: to know, to see, to abide, to go towards. Every word is at the same time an event, a ‘work’. When he says: ‘I am’, to Jewish ears this clearly evokes God himself, and he dares to say: “I am the way, the truth and the life”, identifying himself with God himself. And at the same time, the Father and he are two distinct persons, for Jesus says: “I am the way” (implied: to the Father). No one comes to the Father except through me. Another way of saying “I am the way” or “I am the gate”, as in the discourse on the Good Shepherd. And when we are united with him, the divine plan of our solidarity in Jesus Christ with the whole of humanity is realised. This is truly a mystery, and we struggle greatly to grasp it, yet it is the very essence of God’s merciful plan, which St Augustine calls the “total Christ”. This solidarity in Jesus Christ is present throughout the New Testament. Paul, for example, evokes it when he speaks of the New Adam and also when he says that Christ is the head of the Body of which we are the members. “The whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth until now” (Rom 8:22): the birth of which he speaks is precisely that of the Body of Christ. Jesus himself very often used the expression ‘Son of Man’ to announce the definitive victory of the whole of humanity gathered together as one man. If we take seriously the expression ‘No one comes to the Father except through me’ and if we consider the solidarity existing among all men in Jesus Christ, then we must also say that Christ does not go to the Father without us. This is the meaning of these words of Jesus: “Where I am, there you will be too”, and again, “When I have gone and prepared a place for you, I will come again and take you to be with me”. Paul affirms this in another way when he writes: “Nothing can ever separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:39). Jesus concludes with a solemn promise: “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do.” After all that Jesus has just said about himself, the term “works” certainly does not refer solely to miracles, for throughout the Old Testament, when the word “work” is used in reference to God, it always refers to God’s great work of liberating his people. This means that the disciples are now associated with the work undertaken by God to free humanity from all physical or moral bondage. This promise of Christ encourages us to believe that, even though history shows the enduring presence of many forms of slavery, this liberation is possible and will come to pass. It is up to each of us to make our own contribution.

+Giovanni D’Ercole