Friday of the Sixth Week of Pascal Time [English]

Christ consoling his disciples (19th century), by Carl Heinrich Bloch

 

The Birthing of Joy: When Sorrow Becomes a Passage

Mass Readings: Acts 18:9-18; Psalm 47; John 16:20-23a

We are moving through these days following the celebration of the Ascension of the Lord. Indeed, yesterday we contemplated Christ rising in glory—not to leave us, but to inaugurate a new presence, more interior and more total. He promised to be with us always, until the end of the age. Yet, the human experience of this presence often passes through the hollow of absence and the weight of trial. But we know well that following the Way is not about avoiding tears; it is about learning to let them flow in the certainty that they are preparing an eternal smile. This is precisely where today’s texts place us: where fear meets promise, and where pain becomes the place of a birth.

First Point: Paul’s Fear and the Secret of the City

In the first reading, we find Saint Paul in Corinth. Corinth was a difficult city, a crossroads of every vice, a noisy city often hostile to the novelty of the Gospel. And there, we find Paul vulnerable, perhaps even weary... Indeed, if the Lord tells him in a vision, "Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent," it is because Paul was afraid. Personally, I always find it comforting to see that even the great apostle knew those moments when one wants to remain silent, to be discreet, or to protect oneself because one feels like a threatened minority.

But the Lord gives him a reason, a motivation to stay that is overwhelming: "I have many people in this city." Look closely at what is happening here: Paul sees adversaries, mockers, and courts; but God already sees His people. Where we see a spiritual desert or generalized hostility, God sees hearts that are waiting—thirsts that only ask to be quenched. To inhabit "the Way" is to learn to look at reality through the eyes of Christ.

The event of the Ascension placed Jesus above all things, but this means above all that He is now present in the heart of every city, every office, and every family—even where He is not expected. The protection God offers Paul is not a magic bubble that avoids blows, but the certainty that God's work will not stop. Paul stayed for a year and a half because he trusted in the invisible presence of Christ more than the visible threat of men. This testimony reminds us that our courage does not come from our own strength, but from the realization that we are never the first to arrive at a place of mission: the Lord is already there.

Second Point: The Metaphor of Childbirth or the Meaning of Sorrow

In the Gospel, Jesus uses a powerful image that serves as a fundamental key for our own lives. He speaks of sadness and joy through the most visceral and beautiful image there is: a woman giving birth. Jesus awakens us to the fact that a woman in labor does not suffer because she is sick, or because she is being punished, or because life is absurd. No! She suffers because a new life is breaking through! Her pain is not a sign of death, but a sign of birthing.

Jesus tells us: "You will weep and mourn while the world rejoices." Here is the great Christian paradox. Often, we feel out of step because the world seems to rejoice in superficial things or ephemeral successes. We, meanwhile, carry the weight of our limits, our griefs, and our misunderstandings. But Jesus warns us: this sorrow is not the final word; it is the "labor" of birthing.

By His death and resurrection, Christ transformed human suffering: it is no longer a dead end; it is a passage (which is the root of the word "Pasch" or "Passover"). If we are in sorrow today, if we carry crosses that seem heavy, let us not look at them as fatalities, but as the labor pains of birth. It is the sign that something is being born within us: the "new man" is emerging through our renunciations and our tears. Christian joy is not the avoidance of pain, but the discovery of a meaning that transcends it.

Third Point: A Joy That No One Can Take Away

The final promise of Jesus is what must sustain our hope every morning: "No one will take away your joy." Why is this joy so solid and invulnerable? Because it does not depend on external circumstances. The joy of the world depends on the weather, health, bank accounts, or the opinions of others—it is a surface joy that evaporates at the slightest crisis.

On the other hand, the joy Jesus gives is a "deep-water" joy; it is the joy of presence: "I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice." This promise is already fulfilled in the gift of the Holy Spirit. Since the Ascension, Jesus no longer looks at us from above; He looks at us from within. Christian joy is the certainty of being loved irreversibly. It is knowing that, no matter what happens, the bond is restored, death is defeated, and the Father is waiting for us.

This is the joy that dwelt in Paul in Corinth; it is what allowed martyrs to sing under the blows. It is not a nervous or artificial joy, but the deep peace of one who has found their home. Jesus concludes by saying, "In that day you will no longer ask me anything." Why? Simply because love is its own answer. When you are in the arms of the one you love, you no longer need explanations for the "whys" and "hows" of life: the presence is enough.

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Conclusion and Application for Our Day

This Word invites us to a true conversion of our sadness. We are reminded that we are not victims of fate; we are witnesses to a birth. To put this into practice today, I propose two paths:

1. Look at your fears through God’s eyes. If you feel blocked or afraid to speak your truth, hear the Lord saying to you: "Do not be afraid, for I have many people in this place." Believe that God has already prepared the ground where you are going.

2. Do not waste your sorrows. If you are touched by suffering or a visiting sadness, do not let it close you off. Offer it as labor. Say to the Lord: "Lord, I do not understand this pain, but I entrust it to You so that it may give birth in me to more patience, more love, or more trust."

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Prayer

Lord Jesus, I entrust to You today the shadows and fears of my heart. Thank You for saying to me, as You did to Paul in the night: "Do not be afraid." Forgive me when I remain prostrate in my sadness, forgetting that You are Emmanuel, God with us.

Holy Spirit, come and transform my sorrows into labor pains. Help me not to be scandalized by trials, but to see in them the passage toward a deeper life. Grow within me this joy that no one can take away, this certainty of being loved that surpasses all feeling.

Father, I thank You for the gift of Your Son. Keep my heart turned toward Him so that, in moments of doubt, I may remember that You are King of all the earth and that Your victory is already my home. Amen.