Monday of the 6th Week of Easter

As we journey towards the end of the Easter season, today’s readings draw us into the quiet, revolutionary work of the Spirit—and into the story of a woman named Lydia, whose humble “yes” helped birth the Church in Europe.

The Acts of the Apostles brings us to the riverside at Philippi, where Paul meets Lydia—a businesswoman of means, a dealer in purple cloth, and, more importantly, a woman whose heart is open to God. She listens. She believes. She acts. In her, we see that faith is not passive reception but active hospitality. Her conversion becomes a hinge of history: the Gospel crosses into Europe not with trumpets, but through the open door of a generous home.

Lydia does not wait for others to move first. She receives the Word, shares it with her household, and then, quite literally, becomes the Church—her home becoming the sanctuary where this newborn faith takes root. It is a quiet reminder that the Spirit builds the Church not only through apostles but through ordinary believers whose courage and generosity shape communities of grace. Her life invites us to ask: Whose hearts are being opened through our hospitality? Whose lives are being transformed by our welcome?

In the Gospel, Jesus speaks of another helper—the Paraclete, the Advocate. Not a distant spirit, but one who walks beside us, speaks on our behalf, strengthens us in weakness, and gives voice to truth when our own fails. The Holy Spirit is not merely the receding afterglow of Jesus’s departure; He is the very breath of the Risen One, animating the Church in every age.

Jesus does not promise ease—He promises the Spirit. For the early Christians, as for us, this Advocate comes not to spare us from difficulty but to accompany us through it. When we stand for what is right and are misunderstood, when we speak for the voiceless and feel alone, when we tire under the weight of justice undone—it is the Spirit who sustains, who whispers hope, who breathes courage.

Psalm 149 calls us to “sing a new song” in the assembly of the faithful. And this is not naïve music—it is the song of the resurrected: those who know suffering, yet still dance; those who carry wounds, yet still praise. Lydia’s joy, the disciples’ courage, and the Church’s praise—all spring from the same well: the Spirit who makes all things new.

We celebrate today not only what happened, but what is happening. The Resurrection is not a museum piece—it is a mission. And the mission continues in Zambia, in our homes, in our classrooms, in our marketplaces today. Wherever the Gospel is welcomed and lived, there the Spirit builds the Church anew.

In the spirit of St. Philip Neri, whom we remember today—a saint of radiant joy and generous love—may we live this Easter season with hearts wide open, lives ablaze with charity, and faith that sings even in trial.

Let us end with three questions to carry into the week ahead:

• Where is the Spirit inviting me to open my heart as Lydia did—to welcome the Word more deeply, and to share it more freely?
• When have I felt the Advocate’s presence—especially in moments of fear, doubt, or courage?
• How might I, like St. Philip Neri, live the joy of the Gospel in tangible ways—especially amid the social and economic challenges facing Zambia today?

May our lives be that new song of today’s Psalm—praise in the face of pain, hope in the midst of hardship, and joy rooted in the unshakable love of the Risen 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.