Tuesday of the 2nd Week of Easter

The wind moves where it wills, sweeping through the world unseen, yet undeniable. It bends trees, fills sails, sculpts the landscape over centuries. And so it is with the Spirit of God. We may not see it directly, but its effects are unmistakable: a hardened heart softened, a weary soul uplifted, a divided people made one. Today’s readings call us to recognize the movement of the Spirit, to embrace the divine breath that reshapes not only our own lives but the very fabric of our communities.

In Acts, we glimpse the early Christian community, a people transformed by the Resurrection. They held all things in common, no one in need, no one left behind. This is no utopian fantasy—it is the tangible effect of the Spirit among them. The apostles, empowered by the Risen Christ, bore witness, not just in word, but in deed. Their unity, their generosity, their radical love became proof of the Resurrection’s power.

And what of us? We live in a world that, in many ways, mirrors the divisions of the ancient world. A world where wealth is hoarded rather than shared, where power is wielded for self-interest rather than service, where the dignity of the human person is too often trampled underfoot. Here in Zambia, we know what it is to struggle under economic hardship, to see families straining under the weight of uncertainty. And yet, the call of Easter remains the same: to bear witness to the Resurrection by the way we live. To reject the barren isolation of selfishness and instead embrace the radical communion of love.

But how? How do we, with all our human limitations, live as an Easter people? The Gospel gives us an answer in a single phrase: you must be born from above. Jesus speaks these words to Nicodemus, a learned man, a ruler of the Jews, yet one who finds himself bewildered before the mystery of Christ. Birth is a messy, painful, unpredictable thing. To be born anew is not a simple metaphor—it is a challenge. It is an upheaval of everything we have known, an invitation to allow the Spirit to reshape us, as the wind reshapes the landscape. Nicodemus clings to certainty, to human logic, but Jesus calls him beyond, into the wild freedom of faith.

This is a call we must hear today. The Resurrection is not an abstract doctrine—it is a revolution. It is not simply an event to be remembered, but a reality to be lived. It demands that we let go of what is safe and familiar, that we open our hands, our hearts, our very lives to be remade. To be born anew is to let the Spirit move where it wills, not where we wish to confine it. It is to loosen our grip on old resentments, old fears, old ways of thinking. It is to ask, with true openness, what God desires of us now.

Catherine of Siena understood this well. A woman in a world that sought to silence her, she refused to let convention or fear dictate her mission. She spoke with kings, with popes, with those in power who thought themselves untouchable. And to them all, she preached one thing: conversion. She called them, as she calls us still, to set aside pride and self-interest, to choose love over hatred, to seek peace over dominance. And her words, centuries old, still resound: ‘Do not mind losing earthly dominions: loss will turn to gain, provided you make your soul at peace with your brother.’

This is the heart of today’s message. What dominions must we lose? What attachments must we surrender so that the Spirit may move freely in us? What fears hold us back from the boldness of the early Church? If we are to be true witnesses of Easter, we must allow the Spirit to lead us where we do not expect to go. We must live as if the Resurrection is real—not just in our words, but in our actions, in the way we love, in the way we serve, in the way we build a world where no one is left in need.

And so I leave you with three questions for your prayer and reflection:

• Where in my life do I resist the Spirit’s invitation to be born anew? What fears or attachments keep me from embracing the fullness of Easter joy?
• How can I, in my own community, bear witness to the Resurrection, not just in my words, but in my deeds?
• What concrete step can I take this week to make the love of Christ visible—especially to the poor, the forgotten, the overlooked?

Let the wind blow where it wills. Let the Spirit shape us anew. And let us step forward, not as passive recipients of Easter’s message, but as active bearers of its light in a world that longs for resurrection.

Prayer for the Cardinals preparing for Conclave

God of wisdom and grace,
you never cease to call your Church forward.

As the College of Cardinals gathers to discern and elect a new pope,
grant them inner freedom—free from fear, ambition, and division—
that they may be truly available to your Spirit.

Give them listening hearts,
attentive to the cries of the world and the needs of your Church.
Help them to listen to your Holy Spirit, whom you send to guide them,
that they may recognize your desire and faithfully follow your will.

Unite us all in prayer,
that this moment may be one of deep communion,
true discernment, and renewed hope for your Church.

With Mary, Mother of the Church, we entrust this time to you,
through Christ our Lord.
Amen.

I acknowledge that this homily was drafted by myself and refined using AI assistance and automatic built-in word processing tools for grammar, style, and clarity. The final content remains the responsibility of the author.