How shall we speak of Jesus in this world far away from Galilee? Today’s reflection reminds us that by following Christ, “the way, the truth, and the life,” we can lead lives of love and service.

May 3, 2026: Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year A
Acts 6:1–7
Psalm 33:1–2, 4–5, 18–19
1 Peter 2:4–9
John 14:1–12

Living the Gospel of the Long Haul

A reflection by Jon Schum

The fourth gospel records the Jesus-story of a community in deep transition. Written near the turn of the first century, original witnesses to gospel events are gone from the scene, although oral and written records survived (e.g., the synoptics). There were hostilities between emerging sects of Christianity. Those who confessed Jesus as the Christ were evicted from the synagogue. Note: readers should be cautious about some passages in this gospel that castigate the Jewish people and should understand the historic context of this conflict. The Johannine Christians took their story of Jesus into a new era – and into an ethnically, religiously, and politically complex world in which they were a clear minority. How would they speak of Jesus in this new world far away from Galilee?

I think of John as the gospel of the “long haul,” as it became clear that the expected return of Jesus was not imminent. So, the Jesus of John’s gospel is more complex than the synoptic Jesus. We see Jesus deeply in union with God from the beginning (“In the beginning was the Word…”). We hear the good news through long narratives and deep conversations in a host of unlikely encounters. Jesus changes water into wine and multiplies the loaves and washes feet. A series of “I am” declarations reveal Jesus fully human and divine. And as in the synoptics, we see the prophetic Jesus reaching out to the marginalized, healing on the Sabbath, cleansing the Temple, and standing before the authorities who order his death.

The monk Thomas Merton characterized his self as both prophet and mystic. His early years in the monastery took him “away from the world” and into the interior life of silence, prayer, and meditation. With the advent of the 1960s Merton found himself in a new and different world, drawn by critical issues such as the arms race and racism. He looked at issues of the day through the lens of gospel love and justice. Yet he also considered the contemplative life to be active engagement with the world. He saw his grappling with issues of war and peace, for instance, as a deepening of his spirituality of service and witness, the interface of the mystic and the prophet, living this life-giving tension as the wellspring of the Christ within. Merton was drawn to the Jesus of the fourth gospel. I can understand why.

I realize I’ve become more contemplative as I grow older. Yes, I have more time on my hands for volunteering, but I’ve also grown inwardly and become a bit more monastic. I can identify with Merton’s awareness that the mystic self and the prophetic self are one. Both are grounded in the mystery of God’s incarnate love. And both are grounded in the shared faith and mission of a community of believers. When we gather in community to break open the word and share the bread of life we are then sent in mission – to love and to serve God and the people of God. We can embrace the call to be both mystic and prophet.

We see the church of action and prayer in today’s first reading. Greek-speaking members complained that the needs of widows were being neglected. Widows were very vulnerable; they could not own property and there was no safety net of assistance. The community, in a kind of synodal manner, selected seven men to minister to the women and they in turn were prayed over and commissioned by the apostles.

The First Letter of Peter, addressed to Christians enduring public humiliation and rejection, offers lofty imagery to characterize the people of God. “You are chosen and precious in the sight of God. You are living stones…being built into an edifice of spirit, to become a holy priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people of God’s own” (1 Pet 2:4–9). Something new is emerging from their suffering.

We, too, know well the experience of living in strange and troubling times. How shall we speak of Jesus in this world far away from Galilee? The crowning words of Jesus still guide us: “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Pope Leo is showing us in real time what it means to seek the way, reverence the truth, and embrace the life that is ours in Christ. He challenges the scourge of war, the annihilation of innocent civilians, and the idolatry of money and power. Leo models the contemplative, deep in prayerful union with the Christ…and the prophet, steeped in centuries of principled Catholic values and teaching.

As queer Catholics we are seekers of the way, we commit to living the truth as we are formed in the image of God, and we find that the promise of life in abundance is meant to be ours, too. After seven years of observing Holy Week liturgies online, our Dignity Boston chapter returned last month to Triduum gatherings in-person. We felt like we had truly been reborn! We blessed a new cross on Palm Sunday. In the quiet of Good Friday each of us came forward to venerate the cross with a deep bow, or a kiss, or a touch of the hand, or an embrace or a simple moment of silence. I felt a prayerful connection to the cross as the ultimate act of divine love and self-giving. And I felt the spirit of a community for whom the cross is redemption and liberation, beckoning us to be prophets to the world.

Jon Schum and his husband Ron Lacro are longtime Dignity Boston members. Jon has served on its board and liturgy committee and is one of the chapter's ordained presiders. For many years he supervised and provided arts-based therapeutic programming for an elder services agency in Boston. He is currently a co-facilitator of the Aging with Dignity caucus and board member at DignityUSA.