Fr Dominik Domagala
Every now and again, headlines speak of hope. A new breakthrough in cancer treatment. Promising advances in repairing spinal cord injuries. Each discovery greeted with relief, even a quiet joy. Humanity, it seems, continues to push back the boundaries of suffering. Any yet– even if every disease were cured, death would still remain. No medical triumph, no technological progress, no social reform has ever resolved that final horizon. It is precisely here that the liturgy of this Sunday places before us a startling and uncompromising answer. Not a theory, not a system, but the Person – Christ- as the only gate through which one may pass into life.
Acts -The urgency of the first proclamation
The First Reading takes us to the day of Pentecost, the great Jewish feast of weeks—Shavuot. Pilgrims had come to Jerusalem from every corner of the known world. It is in this moment that St Peter rises to speak. This is his first sermon.
“You crucified him,” Peter declares. Yet he does not end there: “God has made him both Lord and Christ”. The crucified one is not defeated; he is enthroned. The reaction is immediate: “What must we do, brothers?” It is the question of those who suddenly see themselves truthfully. Peter’s answer unfolds in three movements: repent, be baptised, receive the Holy Spirit.
The Greek word he uses for repentance—metanoia—is richer than mere remorse. It means a change of mind, a transformation of one’s entire way of seeing. And baptism is no mere ritual washing. But baptism in the name of Jesus is something entirely new: it binds the believer to the person of Christ himself, incorporating him into his death and resurrection. Then comes the promise: the gift of the Holy Spirit.
But Peter adds something more—something unsettling: “Save yourselves from this corrupt generation.” These are not merely rhetorical words – to reject Christ is not a neutral choice. For Peter’s first listeners, this carried even historical weight, as Jerusalem itself would soon face devastation. The call to “save yourselves” is addressed to every generation. Not in the sense of self-salvation, but in the sense of response. Salvation is offered— but it must be entered into. There is, in other words, a gate. And one must pass through it.
1 Peter – the scandal of Christian difference
The Second Reading confronts us with a different, more uncomfortable reality. St Peter writes not to the powerful but to Christians living under pressure. At first glance, his words may seem too demanding: endure suffering, bear injustice, do not retaliate. In an age such as ours, which rightly values justice and dignity, such counsel can sound perplexing. Are Christians to accept wrongdoing passively?
But Peter’s point is subtler—and more radical. He is not glorifying oppression; he is revealing a different mode of victory. Christ himself suffered unjustly. Yet his suffering was not meaningless. In his silence before accusation, in his refusal to return insult for insult, he unveiled a power deeper than violence—the power of self-giving love. Peter even draws on the great prophecy of the Suffering Servant in Isaiah. Here lies the challenge: Christians are called not merely to admire this pattern, but to enter into it. In practical terms, this has consequences.
When insulted, we do not answer with insult. When wronged, we do not seek revenge. When misunderstood, we resist the temptation to distort truth for the sake of victory. For Peter concludes with a profound image: “You were like sheep going astray, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.”
John – “I am the gate”
The Gospel brings us to the heart of the matter. Jesus says: “I am the gate.” It is a curious image And yet it is no less significant. Shepherds would lead their f locks during the day to pasture and water. At night, the animals were gathered into an enclosure —a sheepfold—protected by walls or fencing. There was only one entrance. Nothing entered or exited except through him. It is against this background that Jesus speaks.
The gate both opens and protects. It allows passage, but it also establishes a boundary”
“All who came before me are thieves and robbers” – these are strong words. He is referring not only to false messiahs, but also to those religious leaders who claimed authority without truly guiding the people towards God. The prophet Ezekiel had already condemned such shepherds— those who fed themselves rather than the flock. Jesus’ claim is therefore both a revelation and a judgement. He is the decisive point of access.
“I am the gate. Whoever enters through me will be saved” – this is not an abstract statement. To enter through Christ is to entrust oneself to him—not partially, but wholly. The image also carries a beautiful paradox. The gate both opens and protects. It allows passage, but it also establishes a boundary. Through Christ, one finds freedom and yet also security.
Here, too, he is not merely offering guidance; he is revealing his identity. He is not pointing to the way. He is the way.
Which
gate?
There is a temptation, particularly in our time, to soften such claims. To say that Christ is a way among others. That different paths lead, ultimately, to the same destination. It is an attractive thought. It avoids conflict. It allows for a certain harmony of perspectives. But it is not what the Gospel says. If Christ is the gate, then he is not one entrance among many. He is the entrance. The real question, then, is through which gate am I trying to enter?
Modern life offers many alternatives—success, recognition, ideology. Some of these may contain elements of truth. But none of them can bear the full weight of the human longing for life that does not end. There is also a more subtle danger: to profess Christ with words, but to live according to other principles. To admire him, but not to follow him. Yet, as today’s readings make clear, to choose Christ is not merely to assent to a doctrine. It is to adopt a way of life—marked by repentance, shaped by baptism, sustained by the Spirit, and expressed in a distinct pattern of conduct.
Christians may and should engage, defend what is true, and seek the common good”
What, then, does it mean—practically—to pass through this gate? It means, first, to allow one’s thinking to be changed. To undergo that metanoia of which Peter speaks. Not simply adjusting behaviour, but reorienting one’s entire vision. It means, secondly, to live from the grace of baptism —not as a distant memory, but as a present reality. To remember that one’s life is already bound to Christ. It means, thirdly, to imitate him concretely. Especially in those moments where imitation is most difficult: when we are misunderstood, when we are treated unfairly, when we are tempted to respond in kind.
In our social and political life, this becomes particularly urgent. Christians may and should engage, defend what is true, and seek the common good. But they must never adopt the methods of falsehood or contempt. No cause—however noble—justifies abandoning the spirit of Christ. Finally, it means discerning carefully whom we follow. Not every voice that claims authority deserves trust. A true shepherd is recognised not by credentials alone, but by fidelity to Christ.
Fr Dominik Domagala acquired a Master’s in History of Liturgy and obtained a Licentiate in Sacred Scripture at St Patrick’s College in Maynooth. He is the author of “The Social Sermon” blog on Facebook, Instagram and YouTube. Check out more at the new website: thesocialsermon.com