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Thursday, April 16, 2026

Emmaus and Us - Awakening at the Eucharist

Third Sunday of Easter: 19 April 2026

Readings: Acts 2:14, 22–28; Psalm 16:1–2, 5, 7–11; 1 Peter 1:17–21; Luke 24:13–35

The disciples of Emmaus with Jesus at the breaking of the bread
What is it that keeps our memories alive? Is it the past experiences or acts that made an imprint on our memories? We remember the past based on our experiences, memories and recollections. Memory is essential to carry forward the past. Memories evoke both good and bad feelings in us. We can not live without our past; however, the memories make us come back alive and relive those past experiences. Memories have a future. Our future is determined by the past, especially those things which are life-giving and fulfilling. We carry the past within us, and yet we make choices about what we would like to carry with us so that they give meaning and purpose in our lives. As we celebrate the Third Sunday of Easter, the liturgical readings invite us to rejoice with the disciples of Emmaus. They found purpose in their lives by celebrating the Eucharist, which brought back memories of Jesus at the Last Supper. This incident never stops them but makes them run without stopping in proclaiming who Jesus really was.

1. Easter: God meets in our narrations of fears and frustrations

The Gospel of Luke 24:13–35, the journey to Emmaus, is a deeply human and profoundly consoling resurrection narrative. It speaks not only of encountering the risen Lord, but of how He meets us in the ordinary paths of our lives—especially when we are confused, threatened, feared, disappointed, destroyed, discouraged, or lost.

Two disciples walk away from Jerusalem. They are leaving the place of hope because their expectations have been shattered. “We had hoped…”—that quiet sentence carries the weight of disappointment. How often our own faith echoes this: we had hoped for healing, a seat in a prestigious school or college, a fine job, promotion, good returns, a suitable partner, good crops, fantastic weather, happy endings, clarity, success, reconciliation. And yet life unfolds differently. The road to Emmaus is, in many ways, the road of our own disillusionment.

2. Easter: God walks in our utter failures

In moments of such unfocused, unattentive circumstances, God meets us. It is precisely on this road that Jesus comes near. Not in glory, not in overwhelming power, but as a companion who walks beside them. He listens. He asks questions. He allows them to pour out their confusion. The risen Lord does not impose Himself; He accompanies. There is something deeply pastoral here: God respects our pace, our process, even our inability to recognize Him.

The eyes of the disciples “kept from recognizing Him.” This is not merely a physical blindness—it is a spiritual one. When we are overwhelmed by grief, fear, or unmet expectations, we often fail to perceive God’s presence. Yet Jesus does not abandon them to their blindness. He begins to interpret their story through Scripture. He helps them see that suffering and glory are not opposites, but part of the same divine mystery.

3. Easter: Change happens when someone accompanies us

Change happens when we are at the mercy of God. It knows how to envelop a person and transform him or her. The disciples do agree: “Were not our hearts burning within us?” This is the quiet transformation of faith—not dramatic, but interior. The Word of God rekindles hope, even before clarity comes. Often, our hearts begin to recognize God before our minds do. For even when we do not recognize Him, He is already walking with us.

The turning point comes at the table. In the breaking of the bread, their eyes are opened. Their perspectives change radically. What Scripture began, the Eucharist completes. The same Jesus who walked with them is now revealed in a gesture so familiar, so simple. And yet, in that simplicity, everything becomes clear: He is alive. The disappearance of Jesus when they recognized him teaches us something profound: faith is not about clinging to physical sight, but about recognizing His presence in new ways—through Word, Sacrament, and community.

Questions for self-reflections

  1. Where are we on our own Emmaus journey? 
  2. What prevents us from recognizing Jesus in our daily lives—fear, doubt, busyness, or unmet expectations?
  3. Are we unable to recognize Christ in our present situation?
  4. What step can we take today to walk more consciously with Jesus on our journey?
Concluding Prayer:

Lord Jesus, companion on our journey, you come close to us even when we are burdened and unable to recognize your presence. In our confusion and disappointment, you do not abandon us, but walk beside us with patience and love. Open our minds to understand your Word and awaken our hearts to the quiet fire of your presence within us. Teach us to recognize you in the breaking of bread and in the ordinary moments of our lives.

When we are tempted to lose hope and turn away, gently lead us back to you and to the community you have given us. Transform our sadness into joy and our hesitation into courage, so that we may become witnesses of your resurrection in all that we do. Remain with us, Lord, especially in the evenings of our lives, and guide us always into the light of your living presence. We make this prayer in Jesus' Holy Name, Amen.

- Fr Olvin Veigas, SJ
Video: YouTube
16 April 2026

Thursday, April 9, 2026

Diving into the Mercy of God with Peace

Second Sunday of Easter (or Sunday of Divine Mercy): April 12, 2026

Readings: Acts 2:42–47; Psalm 118:2–4, 13–15, 22–24; 1 Peter 1:3–9; John 20:19–31

Who does not doubt? Belief is a very subjective matter and is based on one's convictions and experiences. Doubt arises when certainty is unclear. It may be because either we have not experienced it, or we are not convinced of it. We make conscious decisions in our lives. They are based on our experiences, assumptions, knowledge or inner convictions. We cannot believe everyone and in everything. However, we can believe based on our life experiences. The aspect of faith or convictions of faith can enable us to believe what we see, touch, smell, taste and feel. When we have to believe in something beyond space and time, we need the grace of intelligence and wisdom. Knowledge alone does not suffice us to believe something we have never heard of. As we celebrate the Second Sunday of Easter, which is also called Divine Mercy Sunday, the Church invites us to gaze at the Resurrected Jesus not with our exterior eyes, but with our eyes of faith.  

1. Easter brings the gift of peace and reconciliation 

For the Jews, the first day of the week is Sunday. Saturday is a Sabbath Day. So the event of the appearance of the resurrected Jesus happens on a Sunday evening. The frightened disciples are gathered behind locked doors—fearful, uncertain, and fragile. Into this closed space, Jesus comes and stands among them. There is no rebuke, no accusation for their abandonment, no reminder of their failure. Instead, there is a gift: “Peace be with you.”

Wednesday, April 1, 2026

Easter Sunday - Christ is Truly Risen

The Resurrection of the Lord/The Easter Sunday: April 05, 2026

Readings: Acts 10:34, 37–43; Psalm 118:1–2, 16–17, 22–23; Colossians 3:1–4; John 20:1–9

The Resurrection of our Lord
The message of Easter is very clear: Christ is truly risen! The events that followed the crucifixion of our Lord give a rare glimpse of who Jesus was: Fully human and fully divine. With the resurrection of Jesus, the divinity of Jesus shines brighter than before. Jesus is no longer constrained by time and space. Jesus makes himself visible to everyone who longs to see him or waits on him. The mission of Jesus gets transformed now as St Paul would say that Christ "becomes all in all."

1. At Easter, it's Time to Believe

Easter dawn breaks not with noise or spectacle, but with a quiet, almost hidden revelation—the stone rolled away, the tomb empty, and hearts slowly awakening to a truth too great to grasp at once. The Gospel of John 20:1–9 draws us into this delicate moment of discovery. Mary Magdalene comes while it is still dark, carrying within her the weight of loss. Peter and the beloved disciple run toward the tomb, caught between confusion and hope. What they find is not the Risen Lord immediately, but signs—linen cloths lying there, the absence that speaks of a presence beyond death.