Second Easter Sunday [27 April 2025]

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. In these days, as we pray for our Pope Francis departed for the house of the Father, let us insistently invoke the light of the Holy Spirit on the Church and in particular on the cardinals who will have to elect the one whom the Lord has chosen to lead his Church after Pope Francis. 

*First Reading From the Acts of the Apostles (5:12-16) 

Here is a presentation of the first Christian community that seems almost too good to be true (In the Acts of the Apostles there are four summaries of life in the early days of the Church Acts 2:42-47 the best known and most detailed; Acts 4:32-35 emphasises the communion of goods; Acts 5:12-16 highlights the miracles and growth; Acts 6:7 brief summary of the spread of the gospel). However, we must not infer from this that everything was perfect because in the coming Sundays we will see all sorts of difficulties: the first Christians were men, not supermen. Why then does St Luke present this ideal picture? Because he wants to encourage us too to walk in the same direction: a fraternal community is an indispensable condition for the proclamation and witness of the gospel. Since the apostles followed Christ's command, the contagion of the gospel was irresistible: "You shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth" (Acts 1:8) and nothing could prevent the nascent Church from developing. St Luke notes that "all used to be together in Solomon's porch". We are still in Jerusalem, given that Christ's resurrection is close in time, exactly in the Temple of Jerusalem under Solomon's porch (the entire eastern wall of the Temple was actually a colonnade that ran along a wide covered corridor, a place of passage and meeting, accessible to all as it was not part of the area reserved for Jews only). After Jesus' death and resurrection, the apostles, being and remaining Jews, continued to attend the Temple. Indeed, their Jewish faith had been strengthened as they had seen the Old Testament promises fulfilled in the Easter events. Only later and progressively would the division between Christians and the Jews who did not recognise Jesus as the Messiah take place, although already in this text there is a first sign of this: "none of the others dared to associate with them", which tells us that the Christians already formed a distinct group within the Jewish people. Luke draws a parallel here with the beginnings of Jesus' preaching: 'The crowds from the towns near Jerusalem also flocked, bringing sick people and people tormented by unclean spirits, and all were healed'; in the gospel he had written the same thing about Jesus: 'At sunset, all who had sick people suffering from various infirmities brought them to him.... even demons came out of many' (Lk 4:40-41). If he insists on the healings of Peter and the apostles, the message is clear: he continues the work of the Messiah through the apostles and says to his community: it is up to you to take the witness of the apostles because Christ is counting on you. And it is interesting to note that, thanks to the testimony of the apostles, the crowds were not joining the apostles, but through the apostles, to the Lord: "More and more, believers were being added to the Lord, a multitude of men and women". This is an important detail because conversions are not the work of the apostles, but of Christ who acts when the community is made up of people with "one heart" and "by this all will know that you are my disciples: if you have love for one another" (John 13:35). St Peter and the other apostles did not present themselves as supermen, indeed Peter said to Cornelius, who had knelt before him: "Stand up. I too am a man." (Acts 10:26). If there is a lack of signs and miracles in our communities, is it not an invitation to live sincerely in the love of Christ? 

*Responsorial Psalm (117 (118), 2-4, 22-24, 25-27a)

Psalm 117 (118), already sung at the Easter Vigil and on Easter Day, returns and we find it every Sunday of ordinary time in the Office of Lauds (Liturgy of the Hours). For Jews, this psalm is about the Messiah; we Christians recognise in it the Messiah expected throughout the Old Testament, the true king, the victor over death. Like other psalms, this one too must be meditated upon on two levels: from the perspective of the Jewish expectation of the Messiah, and in the light of the converts' faith in the risen Christ. For the Jews it is a psalm of praise that begins with Alleluia, the meaning of which is "praise God" and which sets the tone for the whole. It consists of twenty-nine verses where the word Lord (the famous four letters of the Name of God in Hebrew YHWH) returns more than thirty times, or at least Yah, which is its first syllable, and they are all phrases, a true litany, of praise for the greatness, love and work of God towards his people. The sung psalm accompanies a sacrifice of thanksgiving during the Feast of Tents, which lasts eight days in the autumn. The most visible ritual for foreigners at this feast takes place outside the Temple. During the entire week everyone lives in huts made of branches, the Huts or Tabernacles (Sukkot is the name of the feast), commemorating the desert tents and the protective shadow of God in the Exodus. Inside the Temple there are celebrations whose common point is the renewal of the Covenant (and during which pilgrims wave branches or rather a bunch, the lulav, consisting of a palm, a myrtle branch, a willow branch and a cedar. Finally, a large procession takes place around the altar holding these bunches of lulav while singing psalms interspersed with Hosanna, which means either 'God saves' or 'God, save us'. There are rites of libation of water poured out by the altar (cf. Jn 7:37) and on the evenings before the last day a great lighting of the Women's Courtyard in the Temple with four golden candelabra, fuelled with oil and wicks made from discarded priestly garments, and the light thus produced was so intense that it illuminated the whole of Jerusalem. It is therefore a feast of fervour and joy, anticipating the coming of the Messiah: thanks are given for the salvation that has already been accomplished, and one welcomes the salvation that the Messiah who will not be long in coming will bring: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord"). When Jesus proclaims himself to be the true "light of the world" (Jn 8:2), he probably does so after the conclusion of the feast with the living memory of that luminous rite. In the verses chosen for today's liturgy, all the elements of the feast of Tabernacles are missing, but not the joy in the hearts of believers: "This is the day that the Lord has made: let us rejoice in it and be glad ... Let Israel say: His love is forever". In order to narrate the goodness of the Lord throughout the history of Israel, the psalm tells of a king who, after a merciless war, was victorious and thanks God for having sustained him: "They pushed me, they knocked me down, but the Lord was my help" (v.13), "All the nations surrounded me: in the name of the Lord I destroyed them" (v.10), and again: "I will not die, but I will live and proclaim the works of the Lord" (v.17). Indeed, the story of this king is told of the Israel that came close to annihilation throughout its history, but the Lord raised it up, and now sings on the Feast of Tabernacles: 'I will not die, but I will live and proclaim the works of the Lord'. Israel knows that he must bear witness to the works of the Lord, and from this knowledge he drew the strength to survive all his trials. For us Christians, the Jewish feast of the Tents finds an echo in Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, but above all, the exultation of this psalm befits the Risen One whom the evangelists, each in his own way, have presented as the true king (Matthew in the visit of the Magi, John in the Passion narrative). Meditating on the mystery of the rejected and crucified Messiah, the apostles discovered a new meaning in this psalm: Jesus is truly "the one who comes in the name of the Lord", a stone rejected by the builders, rejected by his people, Christ is the cornerstone of the foundation of the new Israel. This psalm was sung in Jerusalem on the occasion of a thanksgiving sacrifice, and Jesus has just performed the thanksgiving sacrifice par excellence: He is the new Israel who gives thanks to the Father in an eternal act of thanksgiving, bringing about between God and humanity the new Covenant in which humanity is a loving response to the Father's love.

Note The Cornerstone: On this expression, see the commentary on Psalm 117 (118) for Easter Sunday.

* Second Reading From the Book of Revelation of St John the Apostle (1:9-11a.12-13.17-19)

For six consecutive Sundays we will read passages from the Book of Revelation as the second reading, a great opportunity to familiarise ourselves with one of the most fascinating books of the New Testament, seemingly difficult and in need of some effort. "Apocalypse" means revelation, unveiling in the sense of removing a veil, and John reveals the mystery of history hidden from our eyes, and because he has to show us what we do not see, the book speaks to us with visions ("see" or "look" is used five times in today's passage alone). In common hearings Apocalypse is synonymous with catastrophe, a bad misunderstanding, because Revelation like the whole Bible is Good News. In their literary genre, apocalypses, like the entire Bible, communicate God's love and the ultimate victory of love over all evil. For us, who live in a different cultural context, it remains almost impossible for us to perceive why this symbolic language and to understand to whom the author is addressing himself. In reality, he uses the language of visions because all books of the same genre were born in a period of strong persecution of Christians (between the 2nd century BC and the 2nd century AD. several apocalypses were written by different authors). St John makes this clear: 'I, John, your brother and companion in tribulation, kingdom and perseverance in Jesus, was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. On Patmos he was in exile, not on holiday, and being in the midst of persecution, this text circulated secretly to comfort the communities. The main theme is the final victory of those who were oppressed: you are persecuted and your persecutors prosper, but do not lose courage because Christ has overcome the world. The forces of evil can do nothing against you as they are already defeated and the true king is Christ. John states this at the beginning: "I, John, your brother and companion in tribulation, kingdom and perseverance in Jesus. To prevent the persecutors from understanding, stories from other times are told using fanciful visions so as to discourage the uninitiated from reading them. For example, St John misrepresents Babylon, whom he calls the great prostitute, but it is understood that he is talking about Rome. In short, the message of every Revelation is that the forces of evil will never prevail. In today's reading, Christ's victory is shown in this grandiose vision: it is Sunday, the Lord's Day, enraptured by the Spirit John hears a voice as powerful as a trumpet, and among seven golden candlesticks there appears to him a being of light, a 'son of man'. Son of man is in the New Testament an expression used to refer to the Messiah, the Christ. He falls at his feet as he listens to him: "Fear not! I am (i.e. the very name of God YHWH) the First and the Last and the Living One. I was dead, but now I live ... and I have the keys of death and the underworld."  This is a vision that is for the service of the brothers: "Write down the things you have seen", i.e. encourage them and know that past, present and future belong to me. We perceive here the promise of Christ: "He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live" (Jn 11:25).

Note: Exegetes agree that John is the author of the Revelation written during the reign of the Emperor Domitian (81-96) even though this emperor did not organise a systematic persecution of Christians. However, John's community lives in a climate of insecurity: he himself is exiled and there is mention of martyrs throughout the book. Christians are confronted with the demands of the imperial cult promoted by Domitian, and it seems that some local governors showed particular zeal. Moreover, the Christians encountered opposition from the Jews who remained hostile to Christianity. This also seems to emerge from the letters to the seven Churches. There are also other examples of Apocalypse. In the Old Testament, the book of Daniel contains an apocalyptic message written around 165 BC by Daniel to encourage his brothers persecuted by the Greek king Antiochus Epiphanes. He too does not attack the problem directly, but narrates the heroic deeds of some faithful Jews during Nebuchadnezzar's persecution four centuries earlier (6th century BC). Only on the surface is this a history lesson, but for those who know how to read between the lines, the message is clear. Here, finally, is an example of Apocalypse in recent history: at the time of Russian rule over Czechoslovakia, a young Czech actress composed and performed several times in her country a play about Joan of Arc: evidently, the story of Joan driving the English out of France in the 15th century was not the Czechs' first concern; and if the scenario had ended up in the hands of the occupying power, it would not have compromised anyone. But for those who could read between the lines, the message was clear: what a young girl of nineteen was able to do, with God's help, so can we.

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

"Shalom, peace be upon you!" This is the first word spoken by the risen Jesus. The disciples remembered his last sentence on the cross: "All is accomplished", which closes the account of the Passion in the fourth gospel (Jn 19:30). The evangelist at that moment understood that God's plan was completely fulfilled and with this evidence he now narrates this first apparition. Jerusalem, in the very name Yerushalaïm, bears the Hebrew word shalom, and it is here that Jesus announces and gives, that is, makes effective, his peace: Shalom! He thus greets them twice and, now recognised with God, this word is not a wish, but a gift already realised: by saying peace he gives it and makes it effective.  It is always urgent to believe that Christ by rising has brought us peace even if concrete situations show a world marked by hatred, violence and wars. This is because peace is already there, but it does not come with a wave of a magic wand: it must first be born in the hearts of believers and then spread through the joy that the disciples had "when they saw the Lord". The risen Jesus always appears "on the first day of the week" so that for Christians, this day has become the first day of the new times. The seven-day week reminded the Jews of the seven days of creation, while the new week linked to Christ's resurrection is the beginning of the new creation. For this reason, when the evangelist speaks of the first day of the week, he does not merely provide chronological precision, but invites us to understand that Sunday, from the Latin dies dominicus, is a day consecrated to God, the day of the new creation in which the plan of salvation is accomplished. On the very first day of the week, as the prophet Ezekiel had announced: "I will put my own Spirit within you", Jesus "breathed" on the disciples and said: "Receive the Holy Spirit". John deliberately picks up the term we find in Genesis ( 2:7): (God breathed into the nostrils of the man moulded with dust "a breath of life" (nėšāmāh linked to rûah; in Greek pnoē) and he became a living being) and inaugurates the new creation by blowing upon the apostles his Spirit (pneûma hágion), "the first gift given to believers", as the fourth Eucharistic prayer recalls. In the Bible, the Spirit is always given for a mission and Jesus also sends the disciples to announce to the world the one indispensable truth: God is Mercy. This mission is urgent because man dies if he does not know the truth, as Jesus says: "he who commits sin is a slave to sin" (Jn 8:34) because he does not know God's love. There is no other mission than to reconcile men with God: everything else follows from this. "Whose sins you forgive will be forgiven", we could translate it like this: announce that sins are forgiven and be ambassadors of universal reconciliation. The mission that the Father entrusts to you is urgent and indispensable, and if you do not go, the novelty of reconciliation will not be announced. In this context the phrase: 'those whom you do not forgive will not be forgiven' could be understood in this sense: if you do not bring your brothers and sisters to know God's love (if you do not forgive) they will live outside his love (they will not be forgiven).   What trust and what responsibility! God's plan will only be definitively fulfilled when we, in turn, have fulfilled our mission: "As the Father has sent me, I also send you". The first sin, which is at the root of all the others, is not to believe in God's love: therefore, I send you, move without delay to proclaim God's love to all'.

Note 'That day, the first day of the week': in the Hebrew reading of the Creation narrative, this first day was called 'Day ONE' in the sense of 'first day' but also 'unique day', because in a sense it encompassed all the others, as the first ear of the harvest heralds all the harvest... And the Jewish people still await the New Day that will be God's day, when He will renew the first Creation.

Today, Divine Mercy Sunday, I propose a prayer that I take from the book of the Holy Trinity Mercy Shrine in Maccio (Como). The Most Holy Trinity is Infinite Mercy

"Most Holy Trinity, Infinite Mercy, Mercy, Inscrutable Light of the Father who creates; Mercy, Face and Word of the Son who gives Himself; Mercy, Penetrating Fire in the Spirit that gives life; Most Holy Trinity, Mercy that saves in the unique gift of His Triune Being, I trust and hope in you! You, who have given yourself to us, make us all give ourselves to you! Make us witnesses of your Love in Christ our Redeemer, our brother and our King! Most Holy Trinity, I trust in you!"

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Jn 3:1-8)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For we have become like a Wind.

[Monday 2nd wk. in Easter, April 28, 2025]

(Jn 3:1-8)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there to stay, until the next news.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For we have become like a Wind.

To internalise and live the message:

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

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

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

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

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

[Pope Benedict, homily 26 March 2006]

1. Nicodemus said to him: "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter his mother's womb a second time and be born again?" (John 3, 4).
Nicodemus' question to Jesus expresses well the restless wonder of man before the mystery of God, a mystery that he discovers in his encounter with Christ. The whole dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus reveals the extraordinary richness of meaning of every encounter, even that of man with another man. The encounter is in fact the surprising and real phenomenon by which man comes out of his original solitude to face existence. It is the normal condition through which he is led to grasp the value of reality, of the people and things that constitute it, in a word, of history. In this sense it is comparable to a new birth.
In John's Gospel, Christ's encounter with Nicodemus has as its content the birth to the definitive life, that of the Kingdom of God. But in the life of every man, is it not encounters that weave the unexpected and concrete fabric of existence? Are they not at the basis of the birth of that self-awareness capable of action, which alone allows a life worthy of the name of man?
In the encounter with the other, man discovers that he is a person and that he must recognise the equal dignity of other men. Through significant encounters, he learns to know the value of the constituent dimensions of human existence, first and foremost those of religion, family and the people to which he belongs.
2. The value of being with its universal connotations - the true, the good, the beautiful - presents itself to man sensitively incarnated in the decisive encounters of his existence.
In conjugal affection, the encounter between lover and beloved, which finds fulfilment in marriage, begins with the perceptible experience of beauty embodied in the 'form' of the other. But being, through the attraction of the beautiful, asks to express itself in the fullness of authentic goodness. That the other be, that his good be realised, that the destiny traced out for him by the providential God be fulfilled, is the living and disinterested desire of every person who truly loves. The desire for lasting good, capable of generating and regenerating itself in children, would not be possible if it did not rest on truth. The attraction of beauty cannot be given the consistency of a definitive good without the search for self-truth and the will to persevere in it.
And going on: how could one be a fully realised man without the encounter, which takes place in the depths of oneself, with one's own land, with the men who have built its history through prayer, testimony, blood, genius and poetry? In turn, the fascination for the beauty of the homeland, and the desire for truth and goodness for the people who continually 'regenerate' it, increase the desire for peace, which alone makes the unity of the human race viable. The Christian is educated to understand the urgency of the ministry of peace by his encounter with the Church, where the people of God live that my predecessor Paul VI defined '. . . an ethnic entity sui generis'.
Its history has defied time for two thousand years now, leaving unaltered, despite the miseries of the people who belong to it, its original openness to truth, goodness and beauty.
3. But sooner or later man realises, in dramatic terms, that of such multiform and unrepeatable encounters he does not yet possess the ultimate meaning, capable of making them definitively good, true, beautiful. He intuits in them the presence of being, but being as such eludes him. The good to which he feels attracted, the true that he knows how to affirm, the beautiful that he knows how to discover are in fact far from satisfying him. Structural destitution or unquenchable desire parade themselves before man even more dramatically, after the other has entered his life. Made for the infinite, man feels himself a prisoner of the finite!
What journey can he still make, what other mysterious sortie from his inner self can he attempt, who has left his original solitude to go towards the other, seeking definitive fulfilment? Man, committed with genuine seriousness to his human experience, finds himself faced with a tremendous aut aut aut: to ask an Other, with a capital A, who rises on the horizon of existence to reveal and make possible its full fulfilment, or to withdraw into himself, into an existential solitude in which the very possibility of being is denied. The cry of demand or blasphemy: that is what is left!
But the mercy with which God has loved us is stronger than any dilemma. It does not stop even in the face of blasphemy. Even from within the experience of sin, man can always and again reflect on his metaphysical frailty and come out of it. He can grasp the absolute need for that Other with a capital A, who can forever quench his thirst! Man can rediscover the path of invocation to the Author of our salvation, that he may come! Then the soul surrenders to God's merciful embrace, finally experiencing, in this decisive encounter, the joy of a hope "that does not disappoint" (Rom 5:5).
[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 16 November 1983].

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

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

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

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

Jn 20:19-31 (24-31)

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

How to believe without having seen?

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

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

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

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

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

Thomas is not afraid to stand outside the barred doors.

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

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

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

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

Distractions were many.

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

Under Domitian, believers suffered social marginalization, discrimination.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So is there any evidence that Jesus lives?

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

«Twins» of Him and of Thomas.

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

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

We too want to «see» Him.

[2nd Easter Sunday (of Divine Mercy), April 27, 2025]

(Jn 20:19-31)

The Manifestation, the Spirit, the remission

(Jn 20:19-23)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On Easter Day the prophecies were fulfilled.

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

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

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

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

Where this Spirit comes, sin is annihilated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Victory of the Risen One, Church of free people

Without hysteria

(Jn 20:24-31)

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

How could one believe without having seen?

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

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

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

We must go deeper than the immediate experience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thomas is not afraid to stand outside the barred doors.

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

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

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

Ephesus in particular had hundreds of thousands of inhabitants.

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

There were many distractions.

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

Under Domitian, believers also suffered marginalisation and discrimination.

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

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

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

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

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

Not indoctrinated and plagiarised gullible people - or spineless sophisticates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is there, then, evidence that Jesus lives?

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

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

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

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

We too want to 'see' Him.

Christ is risen! Peace to you! Today we celebrate the great mystery, the foundation of Christian faith and hope: Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One, has risen from the dead on the third day according to the Scriptures. We listen today with renewed emotion to the announcement proclaimed by the angels on the dawn of the first day after the Sabbath, to Mary of Magdala and to the women at the sepulchre: “Why do you search among the dead for one who is alive? He is not here, he is risen!” (Lk 24:5-6).

It is not difficult to imagine the feelings of these women at that moment: feelings of sadness and dismay at the death of their Lord, feelings of disbelief and amazement before a fact too astonishing to be true. But the tomb was open and empty: the body was no longer there. Peter and John, having been informed of this by the women, ran to the sepulchre and found that they were right. The faith of the Apostles in Jesus, the expected Messiah, had been submitted to a severe trial by the scandal of the cross. At his arrest, his condemnation and death, they were dispersed. Now they are together again, perplexed and bewildered. But the Risen One himself comes in response to their thirst for greater certainty. This encounter was not a dream or an illusion or a subjective imagination; it was a real experience, even if unexpected, and all the more striking for that reason. “Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘peace be with you!’” (Jn 20:19).

At these words their faith, which was almost spent within them, was re-kindled. The Apostles told Thomas who had been absent from that first extraordinary encounter: Yes, the Lord has fulfilled all that he foretold; he is truly risen and we have seen and touched him! Thomas however remained doubtful and perplexed. When Jesus came for a second time, eight days later in the Upper Room, he said to him: “put your finger here and see my hands; and put out your hand and place it in my side; do not be faithless, but believing!” The Apostle’s response is a moving profession of faith: “My Lord and my God!” (Jn 20:27-28).

“My Lord and my God!” We too renew that profession of faith of Thomas. I have chosen these words for my Easter greetings this year, because humanity today expects from Christians a renewed witness to the resurrection of Christ; it needs to encounter him and to know him as true God and true man. If we can recognize in this Apostle the doubts and uncertainties of so many Christians today, the fears and disappointments of many of our contemporaries, with him we can also rediscover with renewed conviction, faith in Christ dead and risen for us. This faith, handed down through the centuries by the successors of the Apostles, continues on because the Risen Lord dies no more. He lives in the Church and guides it firmly towards the fulfilment of his eternal design of salvation.

We may all be tempted by the disbelief of Thomas. Suffering, evil, injustice, death, especially when it strikes the innocent such as children who are victims of war and terrorism, of sickness and hunger, does not all of this put our faith to the test? Paradoxically the disbelief of Thomas is most valuable to us in these cases because it helps to purify all false concepts of God and leads us to discover his true face: the face of a God who, in Christ, has taken upon himself the wounds of injured humanity. Thomas has received from the Lord, and has in turn transmitted to the Church, the gift of a faith put to the test by the passion and death of Jesus and confirmed by meeting him risen. His faith was almost dead but was born again thanks to his touching the wounds of Christ, those wounds that the Risen One did not hide but showed, and continues to point out to us in the trials and sufferings of every human being.

“By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Pt 2:24). This is the message Peter addressed to the early converts. Those wounds that, in the beginning were an obstacle for Thomas’s faith, being a sign of Jesus’ apparent failure, those same wounds have become in his encounter with the Risen One, signs of a victorious love. These wounds that Christ has received for love of us help us to understand who God is and to repeat: “My Lord and my God!” Only a God who loves us to the extent of taking upon himself our wounds and our pain, especially innocent suffering, is worthy of faith.

[Pope Benedict, Urbi et Orbi blessing 8 April 2007]