April 15, 2026 Wednesday, 2nd Week of Easter "C"
H O M I L Y
There is something that has always puzzled me in the text from the Acts that we just read. Why did the angel bothered to lock the doors of the jail after he let the apostles out?... Indeed, at the beginning of the text Luke says that angel of the Lord opened the gates of the jail and led the apostles forth; but when the temple guard comes in the morning he find the doors securely locked! There must be some symbolic meaning in that story of open and locked doors.
There was something similar in last Sunday's Gospel, from John. The disciples had locked the doors of the place where they were assembled. Does not that have something to do with what Jesus had told them: "When you want to pray, enter your room, lock the door, and pray your father in secret". What John seems to be saying is that Jesus manifested his presence among his disciples when they were assembled together in prayer. But then, what does he do? He breathes his Spirit upon them and says: Receive the Holy Spirit. As my Father sent me so I send you. In today's text from the Acts, the angel of the Lord appears to the disciples when they are behind locked doors. But is the angel of the Lord distinct from the Lord himself? And what does he do? He tells them: "Go out now... and preach to the people about this Life".
The doors to prayer and to solitude are revolving doors. They separates from the world in the Johannine sense. Paradoxically the locked doors are an invitation to the Lord to come in. But, as paradoxically, he invites us to get out of ourselves, to our brothers and sisters. But if we go out in His name, to fulfil the services we are called to fulfill (usually in the Community, maybe in the Guest House; occasionally elsewhere in exceptional cases), were still in and, in fact the door is still locked.
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When Jesus began his ministry, many were those who believed in him because of his miracles. A few unhesitatingly believed in him with a deep faith. Other violently refused to believe. But for the great majority, it was unambiguous type of faith: a mixture of natural religiosity, natural attraction of the miraculous; a faith without too much commitment.
One of those ambiguous believers was Nicodemus. I really like Nicodemus. He is so much like most of us. He believes but does not have the courage to assume totally all the consequences of his faith. He knows the Scriptures, since he is a doctor in Israel. Therefore he can see that God is with Jesus. But he does not go as far as to recognize that God is in Jesus. He comes to Jesus in order to know more, to be taught; but he come s during the night. He is a real seeker; but a seeker in darkness. In fact he will always remain faithful and always ambiguous in hi faith. He will be at Cal‑vary at the time of Jesus' burial, but not too close.
And the wonderful is that Jesus accepts him as he is and takes him seriously. He challenges him; he confronts him with the need to choose between light and darkness. Is it not what he does with us when we come to him in our own darkness?