Homily - Third Sunday of Easter

 

Homily

Third Sunday of Easter

April 19, 2026

 

Happy Easter! “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” We proclaim it again today, on this radiant Third Sunday of Easter. The joy of the Lord’s victory is still fresh. The tomb is empty. Death has been conquered. The light of the Resurrection continues to flood our hearts and our world. And yet… how easy it is, even now, almost halfway into the Easter Season, to miss the victory right in front of us.

 

Look at the two disciples on the road to Emmaus in today’s Gospel (Luke 24:13-35). I believe there is a good reason we are hearing this narrative again when we just heard it on the Wednesday in the Octave of Easter. They are trudging away from Jerusalem, heads down, hearts heavy. They confess to the stranger walking beside them, “We were hoping that he would redeem Israel,” They keep replaying the past: the betrayal, the trial, the cross, the burial. The women’s report of the empty tomb and the angels sounds too good to them, more like wishful thinking. They are so fixed on what didn’t happen that they cannot see what is happening. The Risen Lord, Jesus Himself, is walking right beside them, talking with them, opening the Scriptures to them, and “their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.”

 

How often do we do the exact same thing? How often do we look in the rearview mirror stressing about the past or worrying about what is around the corner. We can’t do anything about yesterday and the future is a mystery. I am approaching the tenth anniversary of my ordination to the diaconate. The best advice I have ever received was moments before the four of us candidates were just about to process up the isle for our Ordination Mass. Fr. Dan Schomaker was the MC. He was pacing back and forth making sure everything was in order. As he frantically slid by us, I quickly asked him, “What last-minute advice to you have for us?” He barely paused and quickly proclaimed, “Be in the moment.” It was the best advice I have ever received and it was at the precise moment I needed it. “Be in the moment.” I try to apply that advice every day.

 

Lent was a month ago. We spent forty days of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Many of us, myself included, entered Easter carrying quiet regrets. “I didn’t pray enough.” “I fell back into the same old habits.” “I meant to be more generous, more patient, more faithful… but I wasn’t.” Even now, weeks later, we still replay our spiritual failures the way those disciples replayed the crucifixion. We turn the season of preparation into a season of self-reproach. And while we’re busy looking backward, the Resurrected Christ is walking with us now, speaking to us through the Scriptures, burning our hearts with hope, and longing to be recognized in the breaking of the bread.

 

The Easter season is not a time for lingering in past shortcomings or regrets. Do we forget that Easter is not just a single day when we celebrate with colorful eggs, baskets of goodies and a family meal then go back to work the next day, back to the old grind? No! It is the Family of God’s great fifty-day feast, a glorious celebration, a prolonged explosion of joy in the Resurrection. The liturgy throughout this commemoration keeps shouting the same message: “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24). And here is what that means for you and me: The victory is not something we have to earn all over again. It has already been won, once and for all, on the cross and in the empty tomb. Our job is to stop staring at the cluttered tomb of our regrets and start living in the open light of the risen Christ. Neuroscience has proposed it takes 21 days to stop a bad habit and 21 days to establish a new, healthy habit. Do you think that 50 days is an arbitrary number? We need this time to let go of ourselves, embrace His gift and strive to use it.

 

Look at the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 2:14, 22-33). Peter stands up with the Eleven on Pentecost, the same fifty days we need, and boldly proclaims the Resurrection to the very crowd that had called for Jesus’ death. This is the same Peter who, only weeks earlier, had denied knowing Jesus three times. The same Peter who had hidden in fear behind locked doors. He does not begin his sermon by saying, “I’m not worthy; I denied the Lord.” He does not stay trapped in his own past failure. Instead, he declares with confidence: “You crucified him… but God raised him up, and of that we are all witnesses!” That is the power of the Resurrection at work. Peter has moved from denial to declaration, from fear to faith. He has stopped living in the past and started living in the present victory of Christ. And because he did, thousands were set free that day.

 

The same Lord who walked with the disciples on the road to Emmaus walks with us, especially here, in this Eucharist which we will soon approach and receive. He takes our brokenness, our half-hearted Lents, our imperfect efforts, and He still chooses to make Himself known “in the breaking of the bread.” When we come to this altar, we are not bringing a perfect record; we are bringing hungry hearts. Jesus meets us there, not to scold us for what we failed to do during Lent, but to feed us with what He has already accomplished; total, absolute and perfect victory.

 

The second reading from 1 Peter reminds us why this matters so deeply: “You were ransomed… not with perishable things like silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ” (1 Peter 1:18-19). We have been bought at the highest price, willingly and lovingly. That redemption is not conditional on our perfect performance. It is a gift. Our response is not endless self-recrimination but reverent, joyful living in the light of that gift. So let us make a decision this Easter season: leave the past where it belongs; in the mercy of God. Stop rehearsing our spiritual failures like a sad old story we cannot let go. Instead, let our hearts burn within us as the Scriptures are opened and as the Risen One gives Himself to us again. Then, like those disciples on the road to Emmaus, let us turn around. Let us hurry back to the community of faith. Let us proclaim what we have seen and heard: “The Lord has truly been raised!” This is the day the Lord has made. Not yesterday’s failures. Not tomorrow’s worries. But this day—right now. Be in the moment. Rejoice, O hearts that seek the Lord!

 

Christ is risen, and He is walking with you and me. Do not remain in the past or gazing in the future. Recognize Him in the present; in the word proclaimed, in the bread broken, in the faces of your brothers and sisters. Go! Tell the others the Good News. The world is still full of people trudging along their own roads to Emmaus, discouraged, disappointed, replaying their own stories of loss and failure. They need to hear from us, not our regrets, but our resurrection joy. They need to meet the Risen Christ through our words, our compassion, our courage. Peter didn’t wait until he felt “worthy.” He simply gave what he had received. So can we.

 

The same Holy Spirit who filled Peter fills us. The same Risen Lord who opened the Scriptures on the road to Emmaus opens them for us today. So let us leave this Mass different from how we came. Let us leave with eyes opened, hearts burning, and feet turned toward mission. The tomb is empty. Christ is alive. And He is walking with us, right now.