White smoke billowed from the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel chimney, signaling the election of a new pope. About an hour later, Cardinal Robert Prevost, an Augustinian friar and graduate of Villanova University and the Catholic Theological Union in Chicago, stepped onto the loggia of St. Peter’s Basilica and greeted the world: “Peace be with you all.”
Meanwhile, across the Atlantic in Pennsylvania, the Rev. Bill Gabriel, O.S.A., head of Mission and Ministry at Malvern Prep, was accompanying a fellow friar to a medical appointment, watching the new pope’s first address stream across his phone when an unexpected email arrived. The subject line read: “Is this your boy?”
He opened it and a photo of the man just named pope came into view.
Bill chuckled and responded, “I wouldn’t say he’s my boy, but he is our brother,” referring to their shared bond as Augustinian friars. The student replied, “Well, I guess that makes him my brother too.”
Later, reflecting on the exchange to Preach host Ricardo da Silva, S.J., Bill said, “What a gift. If that can be part of the disarming piece—if we can see each other as sisters and brothers, much more than what might separate, but what might bring us closer.”
Preaching for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year C, Bill finds resonance in his homily between the risen Christ’s parting words—“Peace be with you”—and Pope Leo XIV’s call for “an unarmed and disarming peace.” In his Urbi et Orbi blessing, Pope Leo quoted St. Augustine: “With you I am a Christian; for you I am a bishop”—which Bill explains is the conclusion of a deeper Augustinian confession: “What I am for you terrifies me; what I am with you comforts me.” Bill interprets this as the pope’s vulnerable and human plea to the church: “Pray for me. I don’t have it all together.”
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Scripture Readings for the Sixth Sunday of Easter
First Reading: Acts 15:1-2, 22-29
Responsorial Psalm: Ps 67:2-3, 5, 6, 8
Second Reading: Rev 21:10-14, 22-23
Gospel: Jn 14:23-29
You can find the full text of the readings here.
A Homily for the Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year C, by Fr. Bill Gabriel, O.S.A.
“What’s the word?” My friar brothers at my friary would ask each other as we would sit down at the kitchen table after morning prayer each day. “What’s the word? Did you get it yet?”
It’s become sort of a routine and extension of our morning, with cereal and coffee cups, sitting down and opening up on our phones to this popular game, Wordle, only six chances to guess a five letter word. “What’s the word? Did anyone get it yet?” We would ask each other every morning. And admittedly, though I excel at other things, this is not one that I excel at. It often ends with others getting far more close with their guesses, and then I have to go over to school and it doesn’t work out.
But what’s the word? Today we hear the risen Christ prepared to say goodbye to his friends, saying, “Whoever loves me will keep my word.” Here, Jesus poses a question to us: What’s my word? He gives us clues about what this word is when he says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.” The Holy Spirit will be sent to you in my name to remind you all that I have told you. And perhaps what is most frequently said by the risen Christ, and what he gives and leaves with his friends is the word Peace. Peace, I leave with you. My peace I give to you. Luckily, five letters are perfect for Wordle.
Such a word echoes throughout the world these days—now being the one that Pope Leo spoke first as he emerged from the balcony of St. Peter’s, “Peace be with you.” And he extended this greeting of peace to enter our hearts, to reach our families, to all people, wherever they are, to all peoples, to the whole earth, saying, “Peace be with you.” It’s a word that has shaped his messages since then, our brother, Pope Leo: Peace to Ukraine and Gaza, saying, “Never again war.” Building bridges, a disarming peace, a peace that knows no bounds, that works through social and personal hurt, grief, stress, conflict, from fear toward communion. It’s a peace made possible from knowing that we, though the risen Christ is ascending, will never be alone because he sends us the Holy Spirit and we will have each other.
What’s the word? Peace.
A couple of years ago, I found myself a little homesick studying as a student in formation in Chicago at the same theological school as Pope Leo. Feeling a bit out of it, I spontaneously decided to attend, at a discounted price, this Chicago Symphony, which I’d never go to, but it was something different. It got me out of the friary and I was all for it. It was a change in scenery. I chose an empty row, aisle seat. There’s 10 open seats to my left, perfect for trying to get away from other people. An elderly woman taps me on the shoulder and proceeds to choose the chair next to mine in this whole empty row. And I’m thinking, Oh no.
Prior to the performance, she started asking the questions, “Are you a student?” I answered, “Yes.” She probed: “Which subject?” I said, “Well, I’m a theology student.” And then she said, without hesitation, “Are you studying to be a priest?” Surprised by her jump in questioning, I said, “Yeah.” Her expression changed to something much more serious, though, just her and I in this row. And she looked at me now with tears in her eyes. She said, “My family…my family’s been hurt by the church.”
For failure, loss, hurt, pain, suffering, betrayal by this church that she called her home, manifested in her tears and sorrow, all sat next to me in this seat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The only words that I could seem to say. Frozen, if you will. In that moment, sitting in silence as the performance continued, during one of the last songs, arm on the armrest between us, I felt a nudge and began to move my arm in case she wanted the armrest. It was a shared one in between us. And only in that moment, as I moved my arm off the armrest for her, she reached out and to grab my hand and hold it for the final song, no words, both of us alone, yet holding each other in what felt like the complexity of the reality of the cross and the promise—one day—of resurrection, of communion. Suffering not erased and wounds not completely removed, but yet feeling a little less alone.
This moment is the peace that Christ shares. This moment is the peace that Pope Leo shares with all of us, with your heart and mine, for Pope Leo as an Augustinian Friar knows this well and inspires us as an Augustinian community to remember this also. He quoted St. Augustine when he said, “For what I am for you terrifies me, but what I am with you comforts me. For you, I am a bishop. With you, I am a Christian.” With you brings peace.
Whose hand is God asking you to hold this day? What pain or worry needs transforming?
Peace be with you, brothers. “Peace be with you,” Pope Leo echoed in the square of St. Peter’s with his Augustinian heart. “Peace be with you.” A word that echoes in all of our hearts. “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you,” Jesus shares with us.
Did you get the word yet? What’s the word? Peace.
