Gospel according to Saint John 10:1-10
Jesus said: “Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever does not enter a sheepfold through the gate but climbs over elsewhere is a thief and a robber. But whoever enters through the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens it for him, and the sheep hear his voice, as the shepherd calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has driven out all his own, he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.” Although Jesus used this figure of speech, the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them.

So Jesus said again, “Amen, amen, I say to you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. A thief comes only to steal and slaughter and destroy; I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

Do we need “life in abundance”?

Luis CASASUS President of the Idente Missionaries

Rome, April 26, 2026 | Fourth Sunday of Easter

Acts 2: 14a.36-41; 1Pe 2: 20-25; Jn 10: 1-10

Today’s Gospel tells us that when Christ used the image of someone who climbs over the wall to enter the sheepfold—calling him a thief—and another who enters through the gate as an image of the shepherd… they did not understand him. However, when He later says, “I am the gate,” He continues to speak of thieves, who come to steal, kill, and destroy.

It is quite possible that we, too, have not understood the message of this parable, because we do not consider ourselves thieves; we admit to having committed some faults, but technically we do not see ourselves as thieves. So, deep down, we file this parable away and assume it is directed at extremely violent people who physically steal, kill, and destroy.

So, we are content with the second part of the text and, at least rationally, accept that Jesus is the gate for the sheep. In this way, like the Jews who listened to the Master, we fail to take advantage of his first teaching: all our sins are a form of theft. It is true that traditionally it is said that pride is the root of all the deadly sins, and at other times we point to Original Sin as the disobedience that introduced into us every form of sin and a wounded nature. But now, Christ gives us a clue to help us realize how we act whenever we sin: we try to take possession of something that is not ours. For example:

►We waste time, using it senselessly and without order, failing to recognize that it is a gift, a means to do something for the Kingdom. This is evident in our failures regarding Poverty, in our lack of order and diligence. Without saying a word, we declare ourselves masters of a time that was granted to us to do a specific good through thought, action, or in some other way. We steal and destroy a good that does not belong to us.

►When we fail in chastity—whether by distracting ourselves with a thought or an image, or perhaps by committing acts of incontinence with our own body or that of our neighbor—we are victims of ambition, which is not limited to money. As the Old Testament says, those who pursue ill-gotten gains; for these they will lose their lives (Prov 1:19). Again, impurity is a form of stealing something beautiful, which was meant to bear fruit that we destroy in our pursuit of pleasure or sexual excitement.

►Disobedience always means subjecting to my own judgment a matter that “does not belong to me”; one is always disobeying someone to whom the decision and the course of action did belong. The disobedient person steals that function of deciding, of establishing and determining what should be done, how, and when.

►Of course, the most serious case is a failure to show charity, which means destroying the kind of relationship that God Himself has intended for us. It is a way of relating to our neighbor that runs counter to what He has conceived and planned. We appropriate His plans. We approach others by scaling the wall that protects them. Yes, we act like true thieves.

Although more examples could be given, the important thing is to be aware that, before I commit a sin, a greed begins to arise within me that drives me to take possession of something that is not mine.

This is also true of our sins of omission or lack of sensitivity to the pain of others. St. Basil the Great (329–379) said: The bread you keep belongs to the hungry; the coat hanging in your closet belongs to the naked… you do them an injustice as many times as you could have helped them.

From this perspective, sin is not merely “breaking a rule,” but usurping something that belongs to God, to our neighbor, or even to our own nature.

There is a famous tragedy from ancient Greek literature, Prometheus Bound, written by Aeschylus in the 5th century B.C., which also centers on this perspective. It is based on the myth of the Titan Prometheus, who had deceived the gods by ensuring they received the worst parts of any sacrificed animal while humans received the best. Furthermore, he had stolen fire to give it to mortals, and for this he was punished by the god Zeus for usurping a place that did not belong to him.

He took something that belongs to the gods—fire—and gave it to humans. Aeschylus presents it as a gift that cannot be possessed without altering the order of the cosmos. Fire is a symbol of the distance between gods and men, and by giving it to humans, Prometheus alters the very structure of creation.

This tragedy also shows that evil begins as an inner impulse: the conviction that I can decide on what does not belong to me.

—ooOoo—

The second part of the Gospel passage also offers something quite novel: a portrayal of Jesus that is the exact opposite of a thief—a criminal who steals life. He presents himself as the one who comes so that we may have life, and have it in abundance.

Unconsciously, our tendency is to think that ascetic effort—our struggle for perfection—is essentially about avoiding evil, not committing wicked acts, not falling into negative thoughts and desires… But when Christ presents us with the parable of the Sower, he speaks of the good soil, and we must consider why thorns cannot grow there, resulting in a harvest of thirty, sixty, or a hundredfold.

A friend who teaches agriculture at the university explained this to me: When a farmer sows alfalfa densely and gets it to take root strongly, the alfalfa grows so close together and its leaves spread out in such a way that they create a green “carpet.” This blocks almost 100% of the sunlight reaching the ground. Weed seeds, which need light to germinate, remain “dormant” or die in the shade.

Furthermore, alfalfa roots are extremely deep and efficient. They absorb water and minerals from the soil so quickly that weeds trying to sprout find no available nutrients. This is how it happens; however, if the field is empty, thorns will immediately invade it. If the field is filled with something vigorous, evil loses the battle due to a lack of space and resources.

The application of this truth to our spiritual life is that, if we have authentic life in abundance, there is no room for sin.

—ooOoo—

This reality, in addition to being a practical guide for our prayer life, also reminds us of Christ’s constant attitude of “overcoming evil with good”—the evil that seeks to fill the world like the weeds in the parable.

An extraordinary passage highlighting this way of acting on Jesus’ part is the healing of the man with the withered hand on the Sabbath (Mk 3:1-6). In this scenario, the “evil”—the thorns—is the wicked intent of the Pharisees, who were looking for an excuse to accuse Jesus, ignoring the suffering of the crippled man.

The Pharisees were focused on what could not be done: You must not work on the Sabbath. Their approach was purely prohibitive and negative. They were waiting for Jesus to make a mistake.

Jesus does not get into a debate over technical laws regarding rest on the Sabbath. Instead, He fills the moral space with a question that forces us to look at what is good: Is it lawful on the Sabbath to do good or to do evil, to save a life or to take it?

He fills the entire space with goodness. In the face of hostile silence (evil), He performs an act of goodness and gives life in abundance by restoring physical and emotional health to the sick man and his family. By healing the man, He demonstrates that the Sabbath is not a day for “doing nothing wrong,” but a day for “filling it with good.”

First-century Judaism was divided into factions (Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes) that placed extreme emphasis on ritual purity and separation from those they considered impure.

Jesus broke down these barriers by eating with sinners, touching lepers, and healing on the Sabbath. His message that love for God is demonstrated in love for one’s neighbor (no matter who they are) challenged the established religious order that sought to control social life through strict laws.

Christ defines himself as “The Gate.” It is indeed a narrow gate, because it demands complete self-denial and constant attention to others, but that is how he lived, which is why he has the authority to ask us to do the same.

In reality, when Christ says he is our Shepherd, he is referring to an image well known to the people of his culture.

The Jewish people were originally a people of shepherds, which is not a profession associated with the nobility. Abraham, Moses, and David had all been shepherds. The Hebrew language has several words to describe what our modern culture simply calls a “shepherd,” since their duties were varied and demanding. They were responsible for guiding the flock to safe places, finding water, tending to wounds, defending against wolves and thieves, carrying the weak lambs, and keeping the flock united. For this reason, it is easy to understand that, in Hebrew culture, “shepherd” became a metaphor for the leaders of the people.

In our prayer, that generous attitude of the shepherd—who never sleeps, who never stops watching over his flock—must begin by acknowledging our tendency toward distraction, toward evading our mission, which is to serve. That is why, even in the Old Testament, we are called to live what we call the Gospel Spirit—constant attention to what the owner of the vineyard asks of us here and now:

Inscribe these words that I command you today on your heart. Impress them upon your children. Speak of them when you are at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand; let them be as frontlets between your eyes; write them on the doorposts of your house and on your city gates (Deut 6:6–9).

_______________________________

In the Sacred Hearts of Jesus, Mary and Joseph,

Luis CASASUS

President