Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:42–47; 1 Peter 1:3–9; John 20:19–31
It begins with a simple truth.
Rousseau saw it long ago: a few filled with excess, many left without enough.
We still live there.
Different language. Same world.
We are told: it will balance out. The overflow of the rich will reach the poor.
But it does not.
Two thousand years ago, another way appeared.
“They had all things in common.” “They distributed to each as any had need.”
Not theory. Not policy.
A way of life.
Today, we hear another gospel.
Abundance. Success. Blessing measured in houses, jets, and cars.
And we are told: if you lack, it is your fault.
Not enough faith. Not enough vision.
But no one asks whether the system itself is broken.
Whether the wealth of a few depends on the lack of many.
The first Christians did not misunderstand the end.
They understood the Gospel.
The Spirit freed them from a world of accumulation into a world of sharing.
“There was not a needy person among them.”
Can we say this?
We cannot.
Too many in need. Too little concern.
So the question rises:
Can it change?
Yes. But only if we remember what the Church is.
Not a building. Not an institution.
A people.
Living stones. One body.
Across nations. Across worlds.
We pray the same words. We share the same Eucharist.
And still, we remain divided by wealth.
Paul VI saw it clearly:
Millions starving. Millions without dignity.
And yet, waste continues. Luxury expands.
These are not strangers.
They are ours.
Our brothers. Our sisters.
In East Timor. In Manila. In places we will never visit— but where Christ is present.
And still, we give little. Or we give leftovers.
We call it generosity.
But it is not enough.
I remember a man— a coin in his hand.
“Use it properly.”
I wanted to give it back.
Because love is not the “sacrament of money.”
Not when the system that produces the coin produces the poverty as well.
The problem is deeper.
A logic that places profit above persons.
That calls competition a virtue.
That treats ownership as absolute.
Unchallenged, it divides. It excludes. It wounds.
The Gospel calls for more than giving.
It calls for another way of living.
A different order.
Where the person comes first. Where the common good matters. Where the earth is not consumed but cared for.
Where work sustains life— not crushes it.
This is not easy.
It never was.
But the Spirit has not changed.
So we begin there.
Not with the world. With ourselves.
With how we live. What we hold. What we release.
Not perfect. But real.
And perhaps, if we dare enough—
there will be, again, no needy among us.
And then,
quietly, without noise,
the light will begin to show.
And the world—
may follow.
Scripture Attribution
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993
the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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© 2025 Krakus.
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