The readings today are about men who cannot be silenced.

That is the mark of Easter.

Before the Resurrection,
the apostles were frightened,
hidden,
uncertain.

After the Resurrection,
something has changed in them so deeply
that even the rulers and elders can see it.

In the first reading they are astonished at Peter and John.

They know these are not educated men
by the standards of the world.

They are ordinary men.

But they are no longer ordinary in one sense.

They have been with Jesus.

That is the difference.

And that is exactly what Easter does.

It does not simply give people a comforting thought.

It remakes them.

The Resurrection does not leave Peter where it found him.

The man who once denied Christ in fear
now stands before the authorities
and speaks in His name without hesitation.

The rulers want silence.

Peter and John cannot give it.

“We cannot but speak
of what we have seen and heard.”

That is one of the great Easter lines in Scripture.

Not:
“We have a theory.”

Not:
“We have an opinion.”

Not:
“We have had a moving religious experience.”

“We have seen and heard.”

That is the strength of the apostles.

They are not defending an idea.

They are bearing witness to a fact.

Christ is risen.

And once that fact has seized a man,
silence becomes impossible.

The Gospel shows the same thing,
but from the other side.

At first there is still unbelief.

Mary Magdalene tells them
she has seen the Lord,
and they do not believe.

Two disciples report what has happened,
and they are not believed either.

Even after the Resurrection,
the hearts of the apostles are slow.

They are not gullible men waiting to be impressed.

They are hard to convince.

And that matters.

Because it shows us again
that the Resurrection was not invented
by wishful thinking.

They did not expect it.

They had to be brought to it.

Then the Lord appears to the Eleven.

He rebukes their unbelief
and hardness of heart.

But He does not leave them there.

He sends them:

“Go into all the world
and preach the Gospel
to the whole creation.”

That is the movement of Easter.

First fear.

Then encounter.

Then mission.

The apostles do not stay huddled in the room
with their amazement.

The risen Christ sends them out.

Easter is not only for consolation.

It is for proclamation.

Not only for private joy.

For public witness.

And that matters for us.

Because many Catholics are tempted
to keep Easter small.

A happy feast.
A warm liturgy.
A truth for church,
but not for the world.

But the risen Lord does not permit that.

“Go into all the world.”

The Resurrection is not a private comfort.

It is the truth about the world.

Christ is Lord.
Death has been broken.
Sin can be forgiven.
New life is possible.

And the Church is sent to say so.

That is why Peter and John are so bold
in the first reading.

They are not trying to win an argument.

They are not trying to make themselves important.

They are doing the one thing
the Church must always do:

speak of what she has seen and heard.

Christ crucified.
Christ risen.
Christ living.
Christ saving.

And that gives us a simple question today.

Are we still treating Easter as something private,
something inside our heads,
something that makes us feel better
but does not change how we speak and live?

Because the apostles would not understand
that kind of Christianity.

For them, Easter meant witness.

It meant that truth had burst into the world
and could not be hidden.

Now not all of us are called
to stand before councils and governors.

But all of us are called
to live and speak
as people who know
that Christ is risen.

That means not being ashamed of the faith.

Not treating the Gospel as one opinion among many.

Not living as though the world were stronger than grace.

If Christ is risen,
then hope is stronger than despair,
truth is stronger than fashion, and grace is stronger than sin.

So today let the apostles teach us this:

Easter is not something to keep quiet about.

The tomb is empty.

Christ is alive.

The Gospel must be preached.

And the simplest, strongest witness may begin just here:

that we ourselves refuse to live
as though Christ were still in the grave.