Sixth Sunday of Easter – (Year A)

Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

First Reading: Acts 8:5-8, 14-17
Psalm 66:1-7, 16, 20
Second Reading: 1 Peter 3:15-18

Gospel: John 14:15-21

Jesus said to his disciples:
“If you love me, you will keep my commandments.
And I will ask the Father,
and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always,
the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot accept,
because it neither sees nor knows him.
But you know him, because he remains with you,
and will be in you.
I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.
In a little while the world will no longer see me,
but you will see me, because I live and you will live.
On that day you will realize that I am in my Father
and you are in me and I in you.
Whoever has my commandments and observes them
is the one who loves me.
And whoever loves me will be loved by my Father,
and I will love him and reveal myself to him.”

Anchor Verse

I will not leave you orphans: I will come to you. — John 14: 8

Suffer Little Children (1859) Anton
Photo by neslihan ୨ৎ on Pexels.com

🔎 Lens: You Are Not Parentless

Still at the Last Supper table. Still the night before the Cross. And Jesus, who is about to leave, makes the one promise that cuts deepest: I will not leave you orphans.

It’s worth sitting with why he chose that word. Not alone. Not without guidance. Orphans — children stripped of the relationship that defines them, left without a home they belong to.

Pope Francis, reflecting on this promise, identified the signs of our orphaned condition in the modern world: the interior loneliness we feel even when surrounded by people; the attempt to be free of God, even when accompanied by a secret desire for his presence; the spiritual illiteracy that leaves us unable to pray; the difficulty seeing others as brothers and sisters because we’ve forgotten we share a Father. We know this list. We’ve lived versions of it.

But the promise cuts through: I will come to you. Not as a memory. Not as a set of instructions left behind. As presence.

Pope Francis explained that in the original Greek, Paraclete — the name Jesus gives the Spirit — means the one who stands beside another to support and console. Jesus returns to the Father, but he continues to instruct and animate his disciples through the action of the Holy Spirit. This is not abandonment dressed as ascension. It is a new and permanent mode of accompaniment.

Pope John Paul II, in his catechesis on the Holy Spirit, taught that when Jesus called the Spirit “another Paraclete,” he was revealing that Christ himself is the first — and that the Spirit’s action would be like that of Christ, and in a sense, prolong it. The Advocate is not a substitute for Jesus. He is Jesus, continuing to act.

The world cannot receive this, the Gospel says — because the world is looking for proof before presence. But for those who love, presence is already given.

Reflection Prompts

  1. Jesus names the condition precisely: orphaned. Not lost, not confused — parentless. Has there been a season in your life when your faith felt like that — not absent, but unattached? What was it like?
  2. “The world cannot receive him, because it neither sees him nor knows him.” Where do you think the Spirit is currently most active in your life — and have you been seeing it, or looking past it?
  3. The second reading asks us to be ready to give a reason for our hope — but with gentleness and reverence. Think of someone in your life who carries a quiet, unexplainable hope. What does it look like on them? What does it cost them?
  4. Jesus says the Spirit will be in you — not merely with you. That’s an intimate claim. Does your daily life feel inhabited from the inside, or mostly managed from the outside?

Weekly Practice

At Mass

During the Creed, when we profess belief in the Holy Spirit, pause internally on just those words for a moment — I believe in the Holy Spirit. Not as a theological item to check, but as a statement about who is actually present with you right now, at this Mass, in this pew.

After Mass

Once this week, when you feel that particular interior loneliness — even surrounded by people — name it honestly: This is what orphanhood feels like. Then say, just as honestly: But I am not an orphan. Let the gap between those two sentences be where the Spirit moves.

If Tria Via has been meaningful to you: pause after your 8th week or support our work.

Get weekly posts in your inbox.

Comments

Leave a Reply

Discover more from Tria Via

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading