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Tag: Faith

  • Fourth Sunday of Easter (Good Shepherd Sunday) – (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Acts 2:14a
    Psalm 23:1-6
    Second Reading: 1 Peter 2:20b-25

    Gospel: John 10: 1-10

    Jesus said:
    “Amen, amen, I say to you,
    whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate
    but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber.
    But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep.
    The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice,
    as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
    When he has driven out all his own,
    he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him,
    because they recognize his voice.
    But they will not follow a stranger;
    they will run away from him,
    because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.”
    Although Jesus used this figure of speech,
    the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them.

    So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you,
    I am the gate for the sheep.
    All who came before me are thieves and robbers,
    but the sheep did not listen to them.
    I am the gate.
    Whoever enters through me will be saved,
    and will come in and go out and find pasture.
    A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy;
    I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

    Anchor Verse

    “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” — John 10: 10

    man in black dress shirt kneeling on bed
    Photo by Ivan S on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: The Voice You Already Know

    Every year, on this fourth Sunday of Easter, the Church gives us the Good Shepherd. Not because it’s comforting — though it is — but because it asks something precise: Whose voice are you actually following?

    Today’s Gospel opens with a detail that’s easy to miss. Jesus doesn’t say the sheep are taught to recognize the shepherd’s voice. He says they already know it. St. Francis de Sales writes that those who hear the Shepherd’s voice well never lack holy inspirations for living life in abundance — but to hear well, we must first listen, and to listen, we must have an open heart. The knowing comes before the following. Recognition precedes trust.

    There’s a second image here that deserves attention: Jesus calls himself the gate, not just the shepherd. The voice of the true shepherd leads not to confusion or fear, but to life — and not merely ordinary life, but life overflowing with grace. A gate is not a wall. It opens both ways — in to safety, out to pasture. Jesus is not describing a cage. He’s describing a threshold.

    Pope John Paul II observed that the allegory of the Good Shepherd carries a strongly paschal character — Christ freely offered himself on the Cross and rose by his own divine power, and it is from the mystery of that Trinitarian love that his pastoral mission flows. This is not sentimentality dressed in wool. This is the Resurrection, still speaking.

    Psalm 23 frames it simply: The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want. Not “there is nothing difficult.” Not “there is nothing painful.” Nothing wanting. That’s a different kind of abundance than the world sells.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Jesus says the sheep recognize the shepherd’s voice and will not follow a stranger’s. In the noise of your daily life — work, news, other people’s expectations — which voices are actually shaping your decisions right now?
    2. “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.” What does abundant life look like to you this week — not as a concept, but on a Tuesday afternoon?
    3. The sheep in today’s Gospel are led out through the gate — not kept inside it. Where might Jesus be leading you out into, that you’ve been hesitant to go?
    4. Psalm 23 moves through dark valleys and the presence of enemies before it arrives at the overflowing cup. Has there been a moment when you recognized the Shepherd’s presence specifically in the difficult part of the journey — not the pasture, but the valley?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Responsorial Psalm — The Lord is my shepherd — let it be more than familiar words. Notice which line lands differently this week. The verdant pastures? The dark valley? The table set before you in the presence of your foes? That line is probably where you actually are right now.

    After Mass

    At some point this week, when you feel pulled in competing directions, pause and ask simply: Is this the Shepherd’s voice, or a stranger’s? You don’t need to answer it perfectly. Just ask. That moment of noticing is what the practice is for.

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

  • Third Sunday of Easter – (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Acts 2:14a
    Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19
    Second Reading: 1 Peter 1:17-21

    Gospel: Luke 24:13-35

    That very day, the first day of the week, 
    two of Jesus’ disciples were going
    to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus,
    and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred.
    And it happened that while they were conversing and debating,
    Jesus himself drew near and walked with them,
    but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.
    He asked them, 
    “What are you discussing as you walk along?”
    They stopped, looking downcast.
    One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply,
    “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem
    who does not know of the things
    that have taken place there in these days?”
    And he replied to them, “What sort of things?”
    They said to him, 
    “The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene,
    who was a prophet mighty in deed and word
    before God and all the people,
    how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over
    to a sentence of death and crucified him.
    But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel;
    and besides all this,
    it is now the third day since this took place.
    Some women from our group, however, have astounded us:
    they were at the tomb early in the morning 
    and did not find his body;
    they came back and reported
    that they had indeed seen a vision of angels
    who announced that he was alive.
    Then some of those with us went to the tomb
    and found things just as the women had described,
    but him they did not see.”
    And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are!
    How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
    Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
    and enter into his glory?”
    Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets,
    he interpreted to them what referred to him
    in all the Scriptures.
    As they approached the village to which they were going,
    he gave the impression that he was going on farther.
    But they urged him, “Stay with us,
    for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.”
    So he went in to stay with them.
    And it happened that, while he was with them at table,
    he took bread, said the blessing,
    broke it, and gave it to them.
    With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him,
    but he vanished from their sight.
    Then they said to each other,
    “Were not our hearts burning within us
    while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?”
    So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem
    where they found gathered together
    the eleven and those with them who were saying,
    “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!”
    Then the two recounted 
    what had taken place on the way
    and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.

    Anchor Verse

    “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?” — Luke 24: 32

    ornamental liturgical chalice
    Photo by Sacrum Foto & Filme on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: The Stranger on the Road

    You know this story. Two disciples, walking the wrong way. Seven miles from Jerusalem, heading toward Emmaus — heading, in other words, away from the resurrection. The text says they were downcast: eyes cast on the ground, heads hung low. They had hoped Jesus would redeem Israel. Past tense. Had hoped.

    And then a stranger falls into step beside them.

    What strikes us here is not that they failed to recognize him — it’s that he didn’t announce himself. He asked questions. He listened. He walked with them in their confusion before he corrected it. Pope Francis reflected often on this scene, noting that Jesus first listened to their struggles and accompanied them on the road before opening the Scriptures to reveal the truth. He drew near to people where they were, not where they should have been.

    Then, at table, he took bread, blessed it, broke it, gave it. Four gestures — the same four from the Last Supper. Jesus did the same four things with the bread at Emmaus as he did at the Last Supper: he took it, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. And at that moment, they recognized him.

    He vanished. But they didn’t sit there. They got up — it was already evening, they were tired — and walked the seven miles back.

    St. Francis de Sales observes that it is a very good sign when a person willingly listens to the divine word, and that we are to be like those disciples — letting the words of Christ nourish the heart as a hope-filled healing ointment.

    This is what the Mass is. Not a duty. An encounter with a stranger on the road who turns out to be everything.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. The disciples were walking away from Jerusalem — away from the community, away from the news of the resurrection. Is there an area of your life where you’ve quietly given up and started heading in the other direction?
    2. Jesus asked them: “What are you discussing as you walk along?” He already knew. He asked anyway. What would it mean to bring that same conversation — your actual grief, confusion, or doubt — into Mass this Sunday?
    3. Their eyes were opened in the breaking of the bread — not during the Scripture explanation, which was brilliant. Why there? What does that suggest about where recognition happens?
    4. They returned to Jerusalem that same hour — despite the distance, the darkness, the exhaustion. What has the Eucharist ever made you want to do that you wouldn’t have done without it?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    The Emmaus story is a map of the Mass itself: gathering, Scripture, breaking of bread, being sent. This week, notice each movement as it happens. At the Liturgy of the Word, listen as if a stranger walking beside you is opening the texts. At the breaking of the bread, ask: Do I expect to recognize him here?

    After Mass

    Identify someone in your life who is walking the wrong way — not to fix them, but to walk with them for a bit. No agenda. Just presence. That’s the posture Jesus modeled on the road.

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

  • The Second Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) – (Year A)

    Jump to: Lens | Reflection Prompts | Weekly Practice

    First Reading: Acts 2:42-47
    Psalm 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24
    Second Reading: 1 Peter 1:3-9

    Gospel: John 20:19-31

    On the evening of that first day of the week,
    when the doors were locked, where the disciples were,
    for fear of the Jews,
    Jesus came and stood in their midst
    and said to them, “Peace be with you.”
    When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side.
    The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.
    Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you.
    As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
    And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them,
    “Receive the Holy Spirit.
    Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them,
    and whose sins you retain are retained.”

    Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve,
    was not with them when Jesus came.
    So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.”
    But he said to them,
    “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands
    and put my finger into the nailmarks
    and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

    Now a week later his disciples were again inside
    and Thomas was with them.
    Jesus came, although the doors were locked,
    and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.”
    Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands,
    and bring your hand and put it into my side,
    and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”
    Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
    Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me?
    Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

    Now, Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples
    that are not written in this book.
    But these are written that you may come to believe
    that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,
    and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

    Anchor Verse

    “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” — John 20:29

    jesus christ statue
    Photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com

    🔎 Lens: My Lord and my God

    The disciples are locked behind closed doors. Easter was a week ago. They have seen the Risen Lord with their own eyes — and they are still afraid.

    Then Thomas walks in without having seen anything, hears what everyone else is saying, and refuses to believe it. We have called him “Doubting Thomas” ever since, as though doubt were his defining characteristic. But look more closely. He doesn’t walk away. He stays. He keeps showing up to the room where the others are gathered.

    And then Jesus comes back — specifically for him.

    Pope Francis observes that Jesus does not give a long sermon to the disciples who had abandoned him. To those wounded within, he simply shows his own wounds. No lecture. No reproach. Just: here — look. Touch. See.

    Pope Gregory the Great saw something deeper still in Thomas’s doubt. Gregory preached that it was by divine dispensation, not by chance, that Thomas was absent the first time — because when that doubting disciple finally touched the wounded flesh of his Master, he cured the wound of our disbelief. Thomas’s doubt, in other words, was doing something for us.

    Thomas arrived late, but once he received mercy, he overtook the other disciples — believing not only in the resurrection, but in the boundless love of God. Five words tumble out of him: My Lord and my God.

    That is the whole Easter faith, compressed into a breath.

    Reflection Prompts

    1. Thomas stayed in the room even when he couldn’t believe. Where in your own life are you still showing up — even when faith feels thin? What does that persistence say about you?
    2. Jesus returns specifically for Thomas, without reproach. Is there a place in your life where you’ve been waiting for God to show up — and perhaps haven’t recognised that he already has?
    3. The disciples in Acts 2 devoted themselves to teaching, communal life, breaking of bread, and prayer. Which of these four feels most alive for you right now? Which feels most hollow?
    4. Thomas needed to touch the wounds before he could say my Lord and my God. What would it mean for your faith to move from secondhand to your own — from the Lord to my Lord?

    Weekly Practice

    At Mass

    During the Eucharistic Prayer, when the priest elevates the host and chalice, allow yourself to say Thomas’s words quietly — my Lord and my God. Not as a formula. As a choice. Let it be personal.

    After Mass: The Practice of Holy Week Presence

    St. Faustina recorded Jesus telling her: “My daughter, give me your failings.” This week, identify one thing you’ve been holding back from God — a doubt, a failure, a grievance, a fear. You don’t need to fix it. Just offer it. That’s the whole movement of this Sunday.

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