Tuesday of the 6th week of Eastertide
First Reading — Acts 16:22–34
Become a believer and you will be saved, and your household too
The crowd joined in and showed their hostility to Paul and Silas, so the magistrates had them stripped and ordered them to be flogged. They were given many lashes and then thrown into prison, and the gaoler was told to keep a close watch on them. So, following his instructions, he threw them into the inner prison and fastened their feet in the stocks.
Late that night Paul and Silas were praying and singing God’s praises, while the other prisoners listened. Suddenly there was an earthquake that shook the prison to its foundations. All the doors flew open and the chains fell from all the prisoners.
When the gaoler woke and saw the doors wide open he drew his sword and was about to commit suicide, presuming that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Don’t do yourself any harm; we are all here.’
The gaoler called for lights, then rushed in, threw himself trembling at the feet of Paul and Silas, and escorted them out, saying, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’
They told him, ‘Become a believer in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, and your household too.’ Then they preached the word of the Lord to him and to all his family.
Late as it was, he took them to wash their wounds, and was baptised then and there with all his household. Afterwards he took them home and gave them a meal, and the whole family celebrated their conversion to belief in God.
Responsorial Psalm — Psalm 137(138):1–3,7–8
I thank you, Lord, with all my heart,
you have heard the words of my mouth.
Before the angels I will bless you.
I will adore before your holy temple.
I thank you for your faithfulness and love
which excel all we ever knew of you.
On the day I called, you answered;
you increased the strength of my soul.
You stretch out your hand and save me,
your hand will do all things for me.
Your love, O Lord, is eternal,
discard not the work of your hands.
Gospel — John 16:5–11
Unless I go, the Advocate will not come to you
Jesus said to his disciples:
‘Now I am going to the one who sent me.
Not one of you has asked, “Where are you going?”
Yet you are sad at heart because I have told you this.
Still, I must tell you the truth:
it is for your own good that I am going
because unless I go,
the Advocate will not come to you;
but if I do go,
I will send him to you.
And when he comes,
he will show the world how wrong it was,
about sin,
and about who was in the right,
and about judgement:
about sin: proved by their refusal to believe in me;
about who was in the right: proved by my going to the Father and your seeing me no more;
about judgement: proved by the prince of this world being already condemned.’
Reflection
Acts presents one of the most striking paradoxes in Scripture: praise arising from confinement.
Paul and Silas are beaten, humiliated, and imprisoned, yet they pray and sing in the middle of it. Not because suffering is good in itself, but because their inner life is no longer fully controlled by external conditions.
This reveals something difficult but important about Christian freedom. Freedom is not merely the removal of chains—it is the capacity to remain rooted in God even when chains still exist. The Catechism speaks of this deeper liberty as life in the Spirit, where the human person is no longer entirely governed by fear or circumstance (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church 1731–1742).
Then the earthquake comes.
But the deeper miracle is not the opening prison. It is Paul choosing not to flee. He remains so another person may live. Mercy interrupts self-preservation.
And this is where the Gospel becomes deeply connected.
Jesus tells the disciples that His departure is “for your own good.” At first, this sounds almost impossible to accept. Loss rarely feels beneficial while it is happening. Yet Christ reveals that what appears like absence can prepare the way for deeper presence through the Holy Spirit.
The Advocate does not merely soothe emotions. He reveals truth. And truth is often uncomfortable before it becomes liberating.
This is one of the hardest spiritual realities to accept:
God can work through places we would never willingly choose.
Through interruption.
Through humiliation.
Through uncertainty.
Not because suffering itself is holy, but because no place is beyond redemption when the Spirit enters it.
Paul and Silas sing before freedom arrives.
Perhaps that is what faith sometimes looks like.
Not pretending everything is fine—but refusing to let darkness speak the final word.
One line to carry today:
Freedom begins the moment fear no longer decides who you become.
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