Today’s readings: Acts 4,8-12; 1 John 3,1-2; John 10,11-18.

The tragic events of these past few days, with hundreds, thousands of people, dead and alive, knocking at the doors of Europe and the west for refuge, touch deeply our sense of humanity and shatter the consciences of those who still struggle to believe and hope in what Easter stands for.

In the midst of the Easter season, these events almost call on us to put on hold the spirit of celebration. There is no wine left. There are only tears. These events make us rewind back to Good Friday and ask afresh who will roll away the stone from the tomb.

This is now no longer a time to pity or just to express solidarity. It is a time that calls for greater political responsibility on the part of a world burdened with issues important and less important towards a world still struggling to survive.

In today’s second reading, we read from the first letter of John “Think of the love that the Father has lavished on us.” Thinking of that love and beholding the extent of the exploitation and violence perpetrated, as well as the indifference with which at times we helplessly count the dead at our shores, should leave us perplexed, to say the least.

This is the fourth Sunday of Easter, every year synonymous with the gospel of the Good Shepherd. The Lord opens our eyes to the “hired man, who is not the shepherd” and to all that scatters the sheep. We are in times when we need a very good dose of the power of the Holy Spirit to be, like Peter, bold enough to face the rulers of the people and the elders and speak out on what has now become unbearable.

In a relatively short span of time, our generation has witnessed genocides in Rwanda and Srebrenica, the ongoing conflicts in Yemen, Sudan, Ethiopia and Nigeria, the too prolonged a war in Syria, and the excessive violence with which IS, Boko Haram and Al-Shabaab are hitting. These may even be the tip of an iceberg.

If the world were truly a global village, as we very often claim, we would be more touched by so much suffering. Yet that suffering is filtered for us and is reported to us together with other headlines, and with as much weight, that speak of our economies, financial investments and even entertainment.

The Jews in their Babylonian exile wondered how could it be possible for them to sing God’s praises in a foreign land. This is exactly the same feeling that should fill our hearts in these times: is it possible that we continue business as usual, singing in our liturgies our Easter Hallelujahs?

It has always been commonplace, in the face of such tragedies, to put God in the dock. For those who claim to be believers, it has also been commonplace to let their faith be put to the test in such circumstances.

It seems there is no more place in this world for pious and cheap talk about a providential God. The assurance that today’s gospel of the Good Shepherd gives is at risk. It is not the capacity to adore God’s mystery that we’ve lost, but the very sense of our own humanity. Yet, it is precisely this that is the key to the mystery of God.

Through his death on the cross and resurrection, Jesus provides us with an image of God not closed in rigid concepts but hidden in the mystery of our own future. John in the second reading writes: “That is what we are, God’s children. But what we are to be in the future has not yet been revealed.”

We still carry within us the mystery of our humanity. Our questions remain questions whose answers are suspended, in prayer if we want. There is so much that has no explanation in spite of our theologies and catechisms. It is tiring to keep believing and much of what we experience makes us at times put on hold our belief.

Yet it pays to wait with the Lord rather than alone. As the Good Shepherd who knows his own and who laid down his life for us all, he will guide us through all this. It is only his mercy that can change and heal the world, wounded as it is.