Christian hope is not an escape from reality. It is born in a dark place, in the narrow confines of a sealed tomb, where God has already overturned the judgment of this world. Precisely for this reason, it dares to speak in a time of wars (Gaza, Kyiv, Darfur and Tehran) and of hundreds of millions of people who do not know how they will make it to tomorrow.
Our days are woven with justified expectations: health, a secure job, a measure of peace, a justice that is more than words. But when these become our entire horizon, we either treat them as idols or, at the first serious fracture, we take refuge in cynicism and resignation.
Easter does not erase these hopes; it re-centres them. It roots them in Another and in doing so, preserves them. A love stronger than death does not remove the burden of action; rather, it breaks the anxiety of having to save the world through our own efforts alone.
The final word on history is not ours, nor that of the victors of the day. It is the word spoken over the body of Jesus. And the word of Easter already refutes every claim of death to be definitive. For Paul, the resurrection of Christ is not an isolated episode in Jesus’ biography. It is the opening of a new scene into which all humanity is drawn: “For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Cor. 15:22). The Church Fathers followed this insight without attenuating it: the resurrection is the fulfilment of human nature in its entirety, not the privilege of a fortunate few. In Christ, God already contemplates the fullness of the human family: the faces of refugees in the Mediterranean, of those crossing the Sahara, of civilians hiding in basements in Darfur. For this reason, every wound to human dignity, every discarded body, is not only a social injustice; it is a profanation of a humanity that was conceived and loved within the very light of the Risen One.
Paul widens the horizon further: “the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth” (Rom 8:22). It is not only human conscience that groans, but the soil, the air and the seas. In 2026, the language of “labour pains” no longer sounds like pious symbolism: we read it in floods, in uncertain harvests, in villages forced to move because the water has run out. This groaning takes the form of protest; creation refuses to be treated as disposable material and Easter gives it a voice. In the risen Christ, every exploitation of the earth already appears for what it is: a choice against the future of all.
How, then, are we to live between a fulfilment already begun and a history still marked by too many failures? Not with paralysis, nor with superficial optimism. We live knowing that nothing authentically good is lost: a gesture of welcome, a choice to renounce something, honest work carried out under adverse conditions. Pope Benedict XVI reminds us that “every serious and upright human action is hope in action,” and includes among these efforts working for a more humane world, sustained by the great hope grounded in God’s promises (Spe Salvi, 35). We can say even more: it is not an external addition to the Kingdom; it is already a visible fragment of it. Fulfilment belongs to God and yet God insists on passing through us as well. When we commit ourselves to refugees, to disarmament, to more humane working conditions, to a concrete and not rhetorical peace, we are not simply “preparing” something for later. We are allowing the life of the Risen One to take shape—humbly and fragilely—within our time.
Easter hope does not remain an idea or a feeling; it takes flesh. The resurrection teaches us that the logic of death has no power to determine the final outcome. For this reason, every war, every system of exploitation, every calculated indifference is already unmasked and stripped of ultimate meaning by the empty tomb. In the tomb of this world, something has already changed forever: life has begun to rise up through the cracks of history. Not as vague consolation or as a “reward” in some undefined elsewhere, but as a reality that, in Christ, has already been entrusted to humanity and to all creation. In the judgement of God revealed at Easter—a judgment that liberates, not crushes—it is decided once and for all that death will not have the last word over anyone or anything.
This is the great hope.
Happy Easter: a hope that does not remain closed within the church, but engages in history.
I wish that we could all have Easter eyes capable of looking into death, until we see life, into the hurts, until we see forgiveness, into separation, until we see unity, into the wounds, until we see glory, into the human person, until we see God, into God, until we see the human person, into Myself until I see You. And in addition to this, to see the power of Easter!
(Easter 1993)
Klaus Hemmerle La luce dentro le cose, Città Nuova, Rome 1998, p. 110.
Solitude, silence, do not frighten: they are made to protect, not to cause fear. Nevertheless, one can take advantage of such a suffering. The greatness of Christ is the cross. He was never so close to the Father and so close to the brothers as when naked, wounded, he cried out from the gallows: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. With that suffering he redeemed: in that fracture he reunited all men with God.
[…] Listen to it. Contemplate it, within the silence wherein God speaks. This is, in the day of life, the hour of dusk of contemplation, when the creatures gather together to assess the work that has been done and to prepare the actions of tomorrow: a tomorrow immersed in eternity. […] Detachment from the world, therefore, and attachment to God: thus not a separation from people, inasmuch as they are brothers, members of the same divine and human family.
(Igino Giordani, Excerpts taken from “Città Nuova” XXIII/13 10 July, 1979, pp.32-33)
This year, Holy Week found a special resonance in me.
Yesterday, Wednesday of Holy Week, I was especially touched by the reading of the Passion of Jesus. I became aware – and this is so important – of the very new value suffering has in our Christian life. I felt as if I was drawn to this most sublime calling amidst the many voices that fill every day and every moment of our life. Jesus, the “man of suffering”: this is the climax of his vocation.
… Today I feel enveloped by a wave of tenderness. It is the day of the New Commandment, of the Eucharist, of the priesthood, it’s the day when we serve one another.
Jesus reserved so many infinite riches for the last day of His life on earth!
How I wish to make every day a Holy Thursday.
Jesus, you who have chosen us for this pathway, which is so close to your heart, help us to follow it well, every day, until the end.
(Translation of the Italian text found in: Chiara Lubich, Diario 1964-1980, a cura di Fabio Ciardi, 2023, Città Nuova, Roma, p. 324)
… Which word is it that the Holy Spirit imprinted like a seal on this house, on our Movement, when God first thought of it and started forming it here on earth?
We know what it is. The word is “unity.” Unity is the word that sums up our entire spirituality. Unity with God, unity with our neighbours. Or rather, unity with our neighbours in order to reach unity with God.
The Holy Spirit, in fact, revealed to us a way that is distinctly ours, a fully Gospel-based way to unite us with God,
to find God. … We seek God and find him by passing through our neighbour, by loving our neighbour. We find God when we strive to bring about unity with our neighbour, with every neighbour, if we establish the presence of Jesus among us. Only in this way are we guaranteed unity with God and we can find him alive and beating in our hearts. It is this unity with God which then, in turn, urges us to go out to our neighbours, and helps us to ensure that our love for them is not pretence, nor insufficient, or superficial, but rather is radical, full and complete, given substance through sacrifice, always ready to give our life, and capable of bringing about unity.
Our Statutes place unity at the basis of everything, as the norm of every norm, as the rule to be
observed before every other rule. Unity is the word for us; it is the rock.
We have no meaning in life except in this word, where everything acquires meaning – our every action, every prayer, every breath. And if we concentrate on living this word, if we live it as well as we possibly can, everything will certainly be safe, we will be safe and also that part of the Movement entrusted to us will be safe.
Perhaps, in the future, the Work of Mary, both as a whole or in some of the zones,
will go through quite different times from what we are experiencing now, when we have so many consolations, fruits, light, fire.
Moments of darkness or despair may well arise, there might be persecutions
or temptations. … There might be misfortunes or disasters… But if we stand firm on the rock
of unity, nothing can touch us, everything will go ahead as before.
Chiara Lubich in “Conference Calls – Conversations via Telephone and Satellite Connections”, 2022 New City, pages 342-344
(…) We cannot know when and how this will happen and it’s a waste of time trying to find out. It is certain, however, that it will come about. It is not a dream nor a utopia nor a sentimental desire. No, it is a certainty repeatedly upheld by God in the Bible. It will be God’s response to the untiring efforts of his children to build up his kingdom. It will be the crown given to them for their fidelity in living his Word. It will be the full unfolding of the power of the Holy Spirit, which Jesus introduced into history through his death and resurrection.
From the very moment Jesus came on earth, in spite of tribulations of all kinds, this renewal has already begun, it’s already under way. From now on, all those who allow Jesus to live in them – and he lives in us if we put his words into practice – will experience the miracle of his grace that makes all things new. His grace transforms suffering into peace and inner serenity. It overcomes our weakness, hatred, selfishness, pride, greed and every sort of evil. It enables us to pass from the slavery to our passions and fears to the joyful freedom of the children of God. Furthermore, God’s grace is not limited to transforming the individual person, but through each one of us, it transforms society as a whole.
(…)
In fact, God wants to renew all things: our personal life, friendships, conjugal love, the family. He wants to renew life in society under every aspect: work, education, culture, entertainment, health, economics and politics. In short, God wants to transform every sector of life on earth.
But God needs us in order to do this. He needs people who allow his Word to live in them, people who are his living Word, people who are another Jesus in their own particular environments. And since the Word that summarizes Jesus’ teaching, the full expression of God’s law, is love, let’s try to put it into practice. Let’s love our neighbors just as we love ourselves, without watering down the Word of God, without minimizing its power.
We will become aware of a continuous renewal, above all in our own hearts, and before long around us as well.
