Third Sunday of Easter

Third Sunday of Easter April 19, 2026

Acts 2:14a.22-23;    1 Peter 1:17-21;    Luke 24:13-35

(Image courtesy: Google)

The Catalina Island is twenty-one miles away from the coast of California, and many people have taken the challenge to swim across it.   On July 4th 1952, Florence Chadwick stepped into the water off Catalina Island to swim across to the California coast. She started well and on course, but later fatigue set in, and the weather became cold.  She persisted, but fifteen hours later, numb and cold, she asked to be taken out of the water. After she recovered, she was told that she had been pulled out only half a mile away from the coast. She commented that she could have made it, if the fog had not affected her vision and she would have just seen the land. She promised that this would be the only time that she would ever quit.  She went back to her rigorous training. And two months later she swam that same channel. The same thing happened. The fatigue set in, and the fog obscured her view, but this time she swam with faith and vision of the land in her mind. She knew that somewhere behind the fog was land. When you set your goal, keep pressing on even when you are tired, physically and mentally, and even though there are many challenges ahead.

This story becomes a powerful lens through which we understand today’s Gospel from Luke, the journey of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. They, too, are walking through a kind of fog. The fog of disappointment, confusion, and shattered hope. They had believed in Jesus. They had trusted Him as the one who would redeem Israel. But now He had been crucified. Everything seemed lost. Their dreams collapsed. Their faith shaken. Like Florence in the water, they were exhausted, not physically but spiritually. And, more than anything, they could no longer see clearly.

As they walk, Jesus Himself comes near and walks with them, yet they do not recognize Him. This is the tragedy of their condition. The Risen Lord is beside them, but the fog within them blinds their vision. They speak of Him as a past hope, not a present reality. They recount the events, but they do not yet understand the meaning. Only when Jesus breaks the bread do their eyes open, and suddenly the fog lifts. They see. They understand. They recognize that He was with them all along.

This is where the story of Florence Chadwick and the Gospel meet. The difference between giving up and reaching the shore lies in vision. When she could not see the land, she lost hope. When she held the vision of the land within her, she found the strength to continue. In the same way, the disciples failed not because Jesus was absent, but because they could not see Him. Once their inner vision was restored, everything changed.

The first message for our lives is this. Faith is the ability to see even when the fog surrounds us. Life often places us in situations where clarity is lost. There are moments of suffering, confusion, and unanswered questions. We face personal struggles, family tensions, disappointments, and even larger realities such as war, injustice, and societal uncertainty. In such moments, it is easy to feel that God is absent. Yet the Gospel reminds us that the Risen Christ walks with us even when we do not recognize Him. Faith is not about always having clear answers. It is about holding on to the conviction that God is present even when He is unseen. Like Florence, we must carry the vision of the shore within us. That shore is Christ, our hope, our destination, our fulfilment.

The second message is this. The Word of God has the power to clear the fog of our hearts. On the road to Emmaus, Jesus begins to explain the Scriptures to the disciples. He opens their minds to understand that suffering was not the end, but part of God’s plan of salvation. Their hearts begin to burn within them. This is a beautiful expression. The transformation begins not with sight, but with listening. When we immerse ourselves in God’s Word, it gradually restores clarity to our lives. Many times we search for God in extraordinary signs, yet He speaks to us quietly through Scripture. If we neglect the Word, we remain in confusion. If we listen deeply, the fog begins to lift. The disciples did not recognize Jesus immediately, but their hearts were already being prepared through His Word. In our own lives, when we feel lost, returning to Scripture can rekindle hope and direction.

The third message is this. The breaking of the bread reveals Christ and transforms us into witnesses. It is at the table, in the breaking of bread, that the disciples finally recognize Jesus. The Eucharist becomes the moment of revelation. What was hidden becomes visible. What was confusing becomes clear. And once they recognize Him, they do not remain where they are. They immediately return to Jerusalem to share the good news. An encounter with the Risen Christ always leads to mission. We cannot truly experience Him and remain unchanged. Every Eucharist is an invitation to see beyond the fog, to recognize Christ in our midst, and to carry that recognition into the world. In a world filled with despair, division, and suffering, we are called to be witnesses of hope.

Today’s readings from Acts and the letter of Peter strengthen this message. Peter stands before the people and boldly proclaims that Jesus, who was crucified, has been raised by God. This is not a distant idea but a living reality. Peter himself had once been afraid, confused, and lost, but his encounter with the Risen Lord transformed him into a fearless witness. Similarly, Peter reminds us that our faith and hope are set on God who raised Jesus from the dead. This hope is not fragile or temporary. It is rooted in Christ's victory over sin and death.

As we reflect on this, we return to the image of Florence Chadwick swimming through the fog. The difference between her first and second attempt was not the absence of difficulty. The cold water was still there. The exhaustion was still real. The fog still surrounded her. The difference was the vision she carried within her. In the same way, our lives will not be free from struggles. The fog will come. There will be moments when we cannot see clearly, when we feel like giving up. But if we hold firmly to the vision of Christ, if we remember that He walks with us, speaks to us and reveals Himself to us, then we will find the strength to continue.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus moved from despair to hope, from blindness to vision, from walking away to returning with joy. Their journey is our journey. The Risen Christ meets us where we are, walks with us in our confusion, speaks to our hearts through His Word and reveals Himself in the breaking of bread.

And so, when the fog of life surrounds us, when we feel tired and ready to give up, let us remember this. The shore is closer than we think. Christ is nearer than we feel. If we keep our eyes fixed on Him, even when we cannot see Him, we will reach the shore.

Happy Sunday 

Second Sunday of Easter

Second Sunday of Easter 

Divine Mercy Sunday April 12, 2026

Acts 2:42-47; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

(image courtesy: Google)

During the Second World War, in a small village, a young soldier was caught stealing bread from a local bakery. The village people were angry. Food was scarce and stealing meant survival for one at the cost of another. The soldier was dragged before the village elder. Everyone expected strict punishment. The elder looked at the young man and asked, “Why did you steal?” With trembling voice, the soldier replied, “I have not eaten for two days… and neither has my younger brother.”

There was silence. The elder slowly stood up, took out his own money, and placed it on the table. Then he turned to the crowd and said, “This young man is guilty. But we are all guilty too… because we live in a village where someone has to steal to eat.” He paid for the bread and added more coins. “This is not just payment. This is mercy. And mercy is the only thing that can rebuild a broken world.”

The crowd stood still. Something shifted in their hearts. From that day on, no one in that village slept hungry again.

This story opens a window into the heart of Divine Mercy Sunday. Mercy is not simply about excusing a wrong. It is about seeing deeper than the wrong. It is about recognizing the wounded human heart behind every failure. It is about restoring dignity where it has been lost.

The Gospel today presents us with the Risen Jesus entering a room filled with fear. The disciples had failed Him. They had abandoned Him. They had locked themselves away, afraid and ashamed. If there was ever a moment for accusation, this was it. Yet Jesus does not come with anger. He comes with peace. “Peace be with you,” He says. He shows them His wounds, not to remind them of their betrayal, but to reveal the depth of His love. The wounds are not signs of revenge. They are signs of mercy.

In that small room, something shifts just like in the village. Fear begins to turn into courage. Guilt begins to turn into mission. Broken men begin to become witnesses. Mercy rebuilds what failure had destroyed.

The first reading from Acts gives us the result of that mercy. The early Christian community lives in unity. They share what they have. No one is in need. They break bread together with joy. This is not just a social arrangement. This is the fruit of mercy received and mercy lived. When people experience the forgiveness of God, they begin to treat others differently. They become a community where no one is left alone or hungry, just like that village in the story.

The second reading from Peter reminds us that this new life is born through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Even in trials and suffering, there is hope. Mercy does not remove all difficulties from life, but it gives meaning and strength within them. It assures us that failure is never the final word. God always has the last word, and that word is mercy.

Thomas stands as a powerful figure in the Gospel. He doubts. He struggles. He refuses to believe without seeing. Yet Jesus does not reject him. Instead, He invites him closer. “Put your finger here and see my hands.” This is Divine Mercy. It meets us where we are. It does not shame our weakness. It gently leads us to faith. Thomas moves from doubt to one of the most profound confessions, “My Lord and my God.” Mercy transforms him.

There are three life messages that emerge for us today.

First, mercy begins with seeing. The village elder did not see a thief. He saw a hungry man and a suffering brother. Jesus did not see traitors in the disciples. He saw frightened hearts in need of peace. In our daily lives, we are often quick to judge. We label people by their mistakes. We reduce them to their failures. Divine Mercy invites us to look again, to see the person behind the problem, the pain behind the behaviour. When we begin to see with compassion, our response changes. Relationships heal. Hearts open.

Second, mercy involves taking responsibility. The elder said, “We are all guilty.” That is a powerful statement. It shifts the focus from blaming one person to examining the whole community. In the same way, the early Christians did not ignore the needs around them. They shared what they had so that no one would be in need. Mercy is not passive. It is active. It asks us what we can do to bring healing in our families, in our communities, in our society. When there is injustice, when there is suffering, when someone is left behind, mercy calls us to respond, not as spectators but as participants.

Third, mercy transforms and sends. The disciples did not remain locked in that room. After receiving peace, they were sent out to continue the mission of Jesus. “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” Mercy is not meant to be kept. It is meant to be shared. When we experience God’s forgiveness, it should make us more forgiving. When we receive kindness, it should make us more kind. When we are lifted up, we are called to lift others. Mercy creates a chain reaction. It spreads quietly but powerfully.

Today’s world is deeply wounded. There is war, division, injustice, and loneliness. Many hearts are locked like that room in the Gospel, filled with fear and uncertainty. Many lives resemble that young soldier, struggling and desperate. In such a world, Divine Mercy is not just a spiritual idea. It is a necessity. It is the only force strong enough to rebuild what is broken.

At the end, we return to the story. One act of mercy changed an entire village. One decision not to punish but to understand created a community where no one slept hungry again. That is the power of mercy. It begins with one heart, but it does not end there. It spreads. It transforms. It rebuilds.

Today, Jesus stands among us and says, “Peace be with you.” He shows us His wounds and offers us His mercy. The question is whether we will receive it and allow it to change us. And then, whether we will become instruments of that same mercy in the lives of others.

If we do, then like that village, like that early Christian community, our world too can begin to change. Mercy will not remain just a word. It will become a way of life.

Happy Feast