5th Sunday of Easter Year A 2026

Jesus said to him, I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. (Ga 14,1-12)

Picture yourself among the disciples at the Last Supper, sensing that something momentous is about to unfold. “The air is heavy with meaning. The bread has been broken, the cup shared, and my heart is both full and trembling. Jesus speaks of going away, and yet tells us not to let our hearts be troubled. How can they not be, Lord, when the thought of your absence feels like night falling without warning?

You speak gently of the Father’s house. There is plenty of room. Not a narrow doorway just for the worthy or the clever, not a prize for only one of us to win, but a wide and generous home shaped by love. You are not abandoning us; you are going ahead, preparing a place where we will all belong. Awe stirs deep within me as I realise that the end of all things is not loss, but union – life gathered up into the life of the Father, with you.

Then you turn our gaze back to the world. You trust us. You promise that, in the strength of your Spirit, we will do even greater works than you have. It is astonishing. Your works revealed who you are – signs beyond human power, mercy breaking through fear, life shining into darkness. And still you place that calling into fragile human hands.

I remember a small thing from earlier today. On the road into Jerusalem, a child stumbled and dropped a basket of figs. People passed by, distracted and tense. Yet you ou stopped. You knelt on the dusty ground, gathered the figs patiently, and handed them back as if nothing mattered more. The child smiled, and I felt the world steady itself. In that moment I saw that glory often looks ordinary, and that wonder is born where love pauses.

In the days ahead, the apostles will ask us to choose servants to care for the widows and we will learn to serve together for the sake of your name. As Peter says, we are living stones, drawn together into a spiritual house, made holy not by our strength but by your mercy, Lord. And as Paul teaches, we will share in your sufferings, filling up your work in every age – not replacing you, but revealing you.

Lord Jesus, I love you. I want to keep you always before me as my model of hope. You are the Way I walk, the Truth I cling to and the Life I receive. Shape my heart by your Spirit, so that through small, faithful acts, others are able to glimpse you. I remain here at your table in wonder, ready to follow you wherever you lead.

By Fr. Thomas O'Brien a.a.