There is a story about a man on a turbulent flight. I mean the kind of turbulence that converts an atheist into an instant believer. The plane hit rough air, people gripped their seats, some started praying out loud, and one passenger, who had never prayed in his life looked especially terrified and tried to repeat the words coming from the mouths of those who were praying out loud. He noticed a little girl sitting by the window. The girl kept coloring, and smiling, even as the plane shook.
Thanks be to God, the plane landed safely. Before deplaning, the man who was visibly terrified asked the little girl, “Were you not afraid?” She held on to her crayon, she kept coloring, and with a smile, she answered, “No. My daddy is the pilot.”
That is the heart of today’s Gospel passage. Jesus is telling his disciples: You are about to go through turbulence, but you are not alone. Your Father is still in control. And I will not leave you orphans.
It is important to note the setting of this Gospel passage. Jesus speaks these words at the Last Supper. Judas has already left to betray him. The Cross is only hours away. The disciples do not fully understand what is coming, but Jesus knows. He sees the fear ahead. He sees the betrayal, the confusion, the denial, the temptation to give up, the agony in the garden, the crown of thorns, and the cross. And so before he goes to Calvary, he gives them a promise: “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always.”
That word “Advocate” is very rich. The Greek word is Parakletos. It means one who stands beside you. A helper. A defender. A counselor. In ancient courts, the Parakletos was someone of high reputation, who stood next to the accused person and spoke on their behalf. Someone who refused to let the accused stand alone. Jesus knew his disciples would need that kind of help. And so he promised them the Holy Spirit.
Did you notice what Jesus did not say? He did not say, “My followers will never suffer.” He did not say, “You will never cry again.” He did not say, “Life will always go according to your plan.” Instead, he promised presence. “I will not leave you orphans.” That is Christianity. Not the absence of storms, but the presence of God in the storm. And that promise changed everything for the early Church.
In the first reading, we meet Philip preaching in Samaria. But Philip did not arrive there because life was comfortable. He arrived there because the Church was under persecution. Christians were scattered. Stephen had been killed. Fear filled Jerusalem. Yet the Gospel spread precisely through that crisis. What looked like defeat became expansion. What looked like disgrace became grace. Sometimes we ask, “Why is this happening to me?” But often God is asking, “Can you trust me while this is happening?” Some of the greatest moments in our lives begin as disruptions. The job rejection that became God’s protection. The failure that humbles you enough to grow. The suffering that deepens your prayer life. The door that closes so a better one can open.
A lot of people are exhausted not because life is heavy, but because they are trying to carry by themselves what God never asked them to carry alone. Some carry anxiety alone. Some carry grief alone. Some carry shame alone. Some carry the pressure of always being strong. Some carry hidden battles nobody else knows about. We smile in public while falling apart in private. And Jesus says today: “Let me send you the Advocate. Let me send you help.”
Isolation is one of the greatest weapons of the enemy, the devil. Yes, the enemy loves isolated Christians. Before the devil destroys a person, he gradually isolates them from the family, from the Church; from God. The enemy does this by making people feel like they are too wealthy, too smart, too strong, too poor, too sinful, too whatever to associate with the family of God; then they become easy targets. But Jesus refuses to leave us abandoned. He gives us the Holy Spirit, the Church, the sacraments, the Word of God, and the support of one another.
The world often measures strength by independence: “Handle it yourself. You do not need anybody. Stay tough.” But the Gospel measures strength differently. Real strength is knowing where to lean. Real strength is surrendering your will to the will and way of God. Real strength is trusting that God’s Spirit is still active even when life feels uncertain.
The little girl on the airplane was calm because she knew who was in control. She knew her daddy was the pilot. That is what Jesus wants for his disciples. Not denial of reality. Not fake positivity. But deep confidence in the presence of God. So whatever turbulence you are facing right now: fear about the future, struggles in your family, grief, disappointment, uncertainty, temptation, false allegation; loneliness, hear the words of Jesus again: “I will not leave you orphaned.”
And that is the reason some of us are still standing. Not because we are stronger than others. Not because we are perfect on our own. Not because life has been smiling at us. But because every step of the way, the Holy Spirit has been standing beside us, carrying what we could not carry, strengthening what would have collapsed, and whispering in our darkest moments: “You are not alone.” And so, we smile through our pains; we smile through our turbulence, not because we deny the turbulence, but because we know our Daddy in heaven is the Pilot.
Homily for 6th Sunday of Easter Year A 2026
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