(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]

The Upper Room in Jerusalem too was a kind of “school of faith” for the Apostles. However, in a sense, what happened to Thomas goes beyond what occurred near Caesarea Philippi. In the Upper Room we see a more radical dialectic of faith and unbelief, and, at the same time, an even deeper confession of the truth about Christ. It was certainly not easy to believe that the One who had been placed in the tomb three days earlier was alive again.

The divine Master had often announced that he would rise from the dead, and in many ways he had shown that he was the Lord of life. Yet the experience of his death was so overwhelming that people needed to meet him directly in order to believe in his resurrection: the Apostles in the Upper Room, the disciples on the road to Emmaus, the holy women beside the tomb. . . Thomas too needed it. But when his unbelief was directly confronted by the presence of Christ, the doubting Apostle spoke the words which express the deepest core of faith: If this is the case, if you are truly living despite having been killed, this means that you are “my Lord and my God”.

In what happened to Thomas, the “school of faith” is enriched with a new element. Divine revelation, Jesus’s question and man’s response end in the disciple’s personal encounter with the living Christ, with the Risen One. This encounter is the beginning of a new relationship between each one of us and Christ, a relationship in which each of us comes to the vital realization that Christ is Lord and God; not only the Lord and God of the world and of humanity, but the Lord and God of my own individual human life.

[Pope John Paul II, vigil at Tor Vergata, 19 August 2000]

We must get out of ourselves and go out onto the roads of man to discover that the wounds of Jesus are still visible today on the bodies of all those brothers and sisters who are hungry, thirsty, naked, humiliated, enslaved, in prison and in hospital. And precisely by touching these wounds, by caressing them, it is possible to "adore the living God in our midst".

The anniversary of the feast of St Thomas the Apostle offered Pope Francis the opportunity to return to a concept that is particularly close to his heart: putting his hands in the flesh of Jesus. The gesture of Thomas putting his finger in the wounds of the risen Jesus was in fact the central theme of the homily given during the Mass celebrated this morning, Wednesday 3 July, in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae. With the Pope concelebrated among others Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran, President of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, who accompanied a group of employees of the dicastery.

After the readings (Ephesians 2:19-22; Psalm 116; John 20:24-29), the Holy Father first of all dwelt on the different attitudes taken by the disciples "when Jesus, after the resurrection, showed up": some were happy and joyful, others doubtful.

Incredulous was also Thomas to whom the Lord showed himself only eight days after that first apparition. "The Lord," said the Pope in explaining this delay, "knows when and why he does things. To each one he gives the time he thinks best". He gave Thomas eight days; and he wanted the sores to still appear on his body, even though it was "clean, beautiful, full of light", precisely because the apostle, the Pope recalled, had said that if he did not put his finger in the Lord's wounds he would not believe. "He was stubborn! But the Lord - commented the Pontiff - wanted a stubborn man to make us understand something greater. Thomas saw the Lord, he was invited to put his finger in the wounds of the nails, to put his hand in his side. But then he did not say: 'It is true, the Lord is risen'. No. He went further, he said: 'My Lord and my God'. He was the first of the disciples to make the confession of Christ's divinity after the resurrection. And he worshipped him'.

From this confession, the bishop of Rome explained, we understand what God's intention was: exploiting unbelief led Thomas not so much to affirm the resurrection of Jesus, but rather his divinity. "And Thomas," said the Pope, "worships the Son of God. But to adore, to find God, the Son of God had to put his finger in the wounds, put his hand at his side. This is the path'. There is no other.

Of course 'in the history of the Church,' the Pontiff continued in his explanation, 'there have been some mistakes on the path to God. Some believed that the living God, the God of Christians" could be found by going "higher in meditation". But this is "dangerous; how many get lost on that path and do not arrive?" the Pope said. "They arrive, yes, perhaps, at the knowledge of God, but not of Jesus Christ, Son of God, second Person of the Trinity," he specified. They do not get there. It is the path of the Gnostics: they are good, they work, but that is not the right path, it is very complicated" and does not lead to a good end.

Others, the Holy Father continued, "have thought that to arrive at God we must be good, mortified, austere and have chosen the path of penance, only penance, fasting. Not even these have arrived at the living God, at Jesus Christ the living God'. These, he added, "are the Pelagians, who believe that by their own effort they can arrive. But Jesus tells us this: "On the way we saw Thomas". But how can I find the wounds of Jesus today? I cannot see them as Thomas saw them. You find the sores of Jesus by doing works of mercy, by giving to the body, to the body and also to the soul, but I emphasise to the body of your brother who is soiled, because he is hungry, because he is thirsty, because he is naked, because he is humiliated, because he is a slave, because he is in prison, because he is in hospital. Those are the plagues of Jesus today. And Jesus asks us to make an act of faith in him through these wounds'.

It is not enough, the Pope added, to establish "a foundation to help everyone", nor to do "many good things to help them". All this is important, but it would only be the behaviour of philanthropists. Instead, Pope Francis said, "we must touch the wounds of Jesus, we must caress the wounds of Jesus. We must tend Jesus' sores with tenderness. We must literally kiss the wounds of Jesus". St Francis' life, he recalled, changed when he embraced the leper because he "touched the living God and lived in adoration". "What Jesus asks us to do with our works of mercy," the Pontiff concluded, "is what Thomas had asked: to enter into the wounds.

[Pope Francis at s. Marta, in L'Osservatore Romano, 04.07.2013]

(Mk 16:9-15)

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

Glad Tidings favourable to humanity that intends to travel towards itself - without the baggage of the overwhelming accumulations of tradition, or the conditioning of fashions.

Jesus brings out the transmutative capacities already endowed to each one.

His proposal supplants the oppressive yoke of the external perfections preached by the old religion; replaced precisely with our simple family virtues, grasped from within.

Not: proselytise, set up, fight, but 'welcoming'. Not: 'obey' God, but 'resemble' Him by being oneself; and so on.

The church should not have become an ethical communion of heroes and saints; rather, of sinners and undecideds.

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

It’s indeed in the overthrowing that we have learned about listening to emotions. Also the need to grasp and understand pain.

And do not fear solitude, the key to accessing the treasures of one's eccentricity and Vocation by Name.

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

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

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

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

Does He no longer appear today? No, He still «manifests» himself in his people.

That’s the whole point.

The difficulty in accepting the convincing signs of the Presence of Jesus and his own Spirit can be overcome.

Not with organisation, which weakens uniqueness. One does not live here. Not with perfectionism, which boycotts the expression of our qualities.

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

«Go you ones!»: if we don't do Exodus, we don't unleash the Spirit. One must not get lost in the search for external consensus.

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

The Glad Tidings to be proclaimed are: the Father is loving; He wants to care.

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

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

Not the God of religion, who waits for the reckoning. The Almighty in the love accentuates transmutations.

He is Root of Being and founding Relation. Gift that ceaselessly Comes to activate the exuberance of our flourishing.

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

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

Unthinkable, before Jesus.

To internalise and live the message:

What do you announce with your life? Does it go beyond direct experience?

How do you point out exuberant paths of hope? Or are you selective and silent?

[Saturday between the Octave of Easter, April 26, 2025]