The Ascension of the Lord (A)

 Acts 1:1-11; Eph. 1:17-23; Mt. 28:16-20

On the day of the Ascension, the disciples stood on a hilltop with their eyes fixed on the sky. They had walked with Jesus, eaten with Him, listened to His stories, watched Him heal the sick, raise the dead, calm storms, forgive sinners, and finally rise from the grave. Now, as the Book of Acts says, “He was lifted up, and a cloud took Him out of their sight.” Their hearts must have been filled with wonder, fear, confusion, and even sadness. They kept gazing upward, perhaps hoping He would return immediately. Then suddenly two men in white robes appeared and asked, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?” (Acts 1:11) That question still echoes through history. Why are you standing there looking up? Why are you frozen in fear, nostalgia, or helplessness? Jesus has ascended, but His mission on earth has not ended. It has now been placed into the hands of His followers.

There is an old story about a king who had to leave his kingdom for a distant land. Before leaving, he entrusted his garden to three servants. To the first he gave seeds, to the second water, and to the third the keys to the gate. “Care for the garden until I 

6th Sunday of Easter (A)

 Acts 8:5-8, 14-17; 1 Pet. 3:15-18; Jn. 14:15-21

There is an old story from Russia about a poor peasant who lost his way during a snowstorm. Darkness covered the road, and the freezing wind became stronger. He wandered helplessly, thinking he would die in the snow. Suddenly, far away, he saw a small lantern moving toward him. It was an old villager carrying a lamp and calling out, “Follow me.” The old man walked ahead through the storm until they reached a warm cottage. Years later the peasant would say, “The storm did not stop that night, but the light of another person saved my life.”

Human life often feels like that snowstorm. There are moments of fear, loneliness, suffering, confusion, and disappointment. Sometimes people feel abandoned even in the middle of a crowd. It is into such human fear that Jesus speaks in today’s Gospel: “I will not leave you orphaned.” The Gospel of John These are among the most comforting words in the Bible. Jesus knew the disciples were

5th Sunday of Easter (A)

 Acts 6:1-7; 1 Pet. 2:4-9; Jn. 14:1-12

A young boy once watched his parish priest every morning. The priest would arrive early, long before anyone else, unlock the church, light a small candle, and kneel in silence. One day the boy asked him, “Father, what do you do here all alone?” The priest smiled and said, “I stand before God for my people, and I stand before my people for God.” Years later, that boy understood: priesthood is not just a role, but a way of living—standing in the gap, carrying others in love. That simple, quiet witness reflects the powerful truth we hear today: you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation. This is not said only to ordained ministers, but to every believer. It is a calling, a dignity, and a responsibility.

In the Old Testament, priesthood was a sacred duty entrusted to a particular group—the sons of Aaron. Their role was clear: to offer sacrifices, to intercede for the people, and to maintain the holiness of worship. They stood between God and the people, carrying the burdens, sins, and prayers of the community into the presence of

4th Sunday of Easter (A)

 Acts 2:14a, 36b-41; 1 Pet. 2:20b-25; Jn. 10:1-10

There is an old story told in many cultures about a shepherd boy who loved his sheep deeply. Every evening, before closing the gate, he would count them one by one. One night, he found that one lamb was missing. Though he was tired and darkness had fallen, he took a lamp and went searching through the hills. After hours of walking, he found the little lamb trapped among thorns, trembling in fear. He gently lifted it, placed it on his shoulders, and carried it home. When he returned, his family asked, “Was it worth risking your life for just one sheep?” The shepherd smiled and said, “To you it was one sheep. To me, it was someone entrusted to my care.”

3rd Sunday of Easter (A)

 Acts 2:14, 22b-28; 1 Pet. 1:17-21; Lk. 24:13-35

There is a touching description in The Divine Comedy by Dante. At the beginning of his journey, Dante finds himself lost in a dark forest—confused, afraid, and without direction. He tries to climb a hill toward light but is blocked again and again by wild beasts. Just when despair threatens to overwhelm him, a figure appears—Virgil, the great poet. Virgil does not immediately carry Dante to safety. Instead, he walks with him, guides him, explains things to him, and leads him through a long and difficult journey. As they travel together, something begins to change within Dante. Though the path leads through darkness, fear, and even suffering, a light is kindled within him—a growing understanding, a deepening courage. By the time he emerges from the darkness, Dante is no longer the same man who was lost in the forest. His heart has been awakened; his vision transformed.

Like Dante walking through confusion with a hidden guide, the disciples on the road to Emmaus were walking in sorrow. They are walking away from Jerusalem—not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Their hopes had been shattered. “We had