Lectionary Commentaries for May 10, 2026
Sixth Sunday of Easter

In John 14:15–21, Jesus, in his Farewell Discourse, offers solace and encouragement to his disciples, intertwining the themes of love, obedience, and the promise of the Paraclete. This passage underscores that genuine love for Jesus manifests in keeping his commandments, rooted in the expansive love of God. The promised Advocate, the Spirit of truth, will empower the believing community to embody and proclaim this love.

Jesus begins by directly linking love and obedience: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments” (14:15). This is not a transactional statement but rather a reflection of the nature of love itself. Authentic love is not passive; it is active and demonstrative. Just as Paul emphasizes the primacy of love in 1 Corinthians 13, Jesus highlights that faith devoid of love is incomplete. 

In John’s Gospel, love originates in God, who demonstrated ultimate love by sending his Son to save the world. This love transcends self-interest, prejudice, and parochialism; it embraces all people and creation. For Jesus, true religion is practical and tangible, expressed through acts of love that mirror God’s own. His commandments, therefore, are not arbitrary rules, but invitations to participate in God’s loving mission.

The introduction of the Paraclete in verses 16–17 is central to understanding the continued presence and power of Jesus within the community of believers. The term “Paraclete,” uniquely emphasized in John’s Gospel (14:26; 15:26–27; 16:5–11; 16:12–15), is often translated as Advocate, Comforter, or Helper, each capturing a facet of the Spirit’s multifaceted role. The Paraclete’s primary function is to safeguard and sustain the believing community, enabling it to persevere and bear witness to God’s love-driven mission in the face of adversity. The community is called to boldly testify to the Messiah, who embodies God’s word and truth.

Verse 16 clarifies the dynamic union: Jesus will ask the Father, who will send “another Advocate.” This highlights the Father’s role as the ultimate source, just as he sent Jesus himself. While Jesus returns to the Father, he does not abandon his followers. Instead, he secures the permanent presence of the Spirit, ensuring continuous care and guidance for the Johannine community within its historical context. The promise of the Advocate is meant to instill security and assurance, encouraging believers to remain steadfast in their faith.

Jesus identifies the Advocate as “the Spirit of truth.” To grasp the significance of this title, we turn to 16:13–15, where the Spirit’s work is further elucidated. The Spirit of truth will guide believers “into all the truth,” speaking not on his own authority but conveying what he hears from the Father and the Son. Crucially, the Spirit will “glorify” Jesus by revealing and interpreting his teachings. This underscores that the Spirit’s mission is not to introduce new doctrines but to deepen the understanding and application of Jesus’s message. The Spirit draws from what belongs to Jesus, which ultimately originates from the Father, thus maintaining the union relationships between the Father, Son, and Spirit. 

Within the Johannine framework, God is truth—the ultimate reality and source of all that exists. Jesus, as the incarnate Word, entered the world to bear witness to this truth, revealing God’s character and purpose through his teachings and actions (18:37). He embodied truth in his very being, demonstrating its transformative power in his interactions with others. The Advocate, upon arrival, assumes the critical role of empowering the believing community to faithfully continue this mission of bearing witness to God’s truth, now definitively and fully revealed through Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God. 

The Spirit serves as a constant guide and interpreter, aiding believers in not merely recalling but deeply comprehending the essence and implications of Jesus’s teachings (14:26). This Spirit, however, is uniquely accessible to those who believe, a gift bestowed upon the community of faith. The world, alienated from God, remains blind to the Spirit’s presence and influence, unable to perceive or comprehend the transformative truth he imparts. This distinction between those who are “of the truth” and those who remain in darkness underscores the importance of faith as a prerequisite for experiencing the Spirit’s illuminating power.

Jesus offers further comfort by assuring his disciples that he will not leave them as orphans, for he is “coming to [them]” (14:18). This statement might seem paradoxical, given his impending departure to the Father and the subsequent sending of the Advocate. However, the key lies in understanding that Jesus’s “coming” is mediated through the Advocate. It is not a direct, physical return but a spiritual presence. The Advocate acts on behalf of both Jesus and the Father, making their influence felt within the community. In this sense, Jesus’s departure and the subsequent arrival of the Advocate are ultimately beneficial, allowing believers to experience the Spirit’s abiding presence and guidance, which will even lead to judgment of evil in the world (16:5–11).

Verses 18–21 reveal the contagious nature of divine love. Love is the essential bond connecting believers to God and each other. Those who love Jesus must do good works of love. By embracing Jesus’s love-based commandments, believers open themselves to the Father’s love and, in turn, experience Jesus’s self-revelation. This ongoing process deepens intimacy and understanding. The Father’s love, flowing through the Son into his followers, unites them in mutual affection and a shared commitment to embodying that love.

In conclusion, John 14:15–21 presents a compelling vision of the Christian life, one characterized by living in love, obedience, and constant reliance on the Advocate’s empowering presence. The passage unequivocally emphasizes that genuine love for Jesus is not merely a feeling but is actively demonstrated through keeping his commandments, which themselves are a radiant reflection of God’s boundless and inclusive love for all humanity. The promised Advocate, the Spirit of truth, serves as a constant source of strength and guidance, ensuring that the believing community is not only equipped but also inspired to embody and proclaim this transformative love to a world desperately in need of it. 

This active participation in God’s love leads to the renewal of society and offers compelling evidence, through both word and deed, of Christ’s enduring presence and active reign in the lives of believers and the world around them.

“Probably no ten verses in the Acts of the Apostles have formed the text for such an abundance of commentary.”¹ Thus writes biblical scholar F. F. Bruce about Paul’s speech before the Areopagus. It is certainly true that this passage has generated much discussion, not least in relation to cross-cultural ministry, for which Paul’s approach here has been viewed as something of a model.

Paul’s address begins with a reference to the character of the locals (“extremely religious”) and a description of something he has seen within the city (“the altar to the unknown god”), and his subsequent defense of Christianity utilizes quotations from Greek poetry (“In him we live and move and have our being”; “For we too are his offspring”). It was likely crafted to appeal to the intellectual and philosophical sensibilities of the members of this ruling council of Athens. Members of the two groups that are specifically named earlier in the chapter (the Epicureans and the Stoics, verse 18) were notoriously in disagreement with one another, so Paul faces an uphill battle as he makes his case.

Of course, while Luke’s Paul is speaking to the movers and shakers of Athens, Luke is speaking to the readers and hearers of the Acts of the Apostles, and the speech contains some clever ideas that are able to serve both audiences in different ways. For example, the reference to the Athenians as being “extremely religious” would likely be interpreted as a compliment by the members of the council (especially at this early point in the speech where praise was an expected feature), while simultaneously hinting at something less positive (“extremely superstitious”) to Luke’s own audience.²

The main section of Paul’s speech identifies the “unknown god” of the Athenian shrine with the known creator God of the Judeo-Christian tradition. As per the recommendations of ancient rhetoricians, Luke’s Paul saves his most challenging point until the end, introducing the resurrection only after his attempt to build rapport and shared understanding with his audience. Resurrection, and especially a bodily resurrection, would have been a deeply puzzling idea to many gentiles—we see in the verse that immediately follows the set reading (verse 32) that it is this idea that causes some to “scoff”—and yet it is precisely this claim about Jesus that lies at the heart of the Christian faith.

In spite (or perhaps because) of the Athenians’ reputation for intellectualism, Paul’s words do not allow for a faith that disconnects mind or soul from body. This is a message that many still need to hear today. Theologian Stephanie Paulsell writes as follows:

It is Jesus’s resurrected body that teaches us that bodies matter. In the resurrection narratives of the New Testament, Jesus insists on his body: “Look at my hands and my feet,” he says in Luke’s Gospel. “See that it is I myself. Touch me and see” (Luke 24:39).³

Interestingly, this language of hands and touch can also be found in the earlier parts of Paul’s speech to the Athenian council. He twice refers to “the work of human hands” (verses 24 and 25), and the human search for God is depicted using the touch-related language of “feeling around” or “groping” for him (verse 27). Our desire to know God cannot be separated from our embodied human existence.

God’s work of creation is also located in the material world. Paul explains that this God is the giver of life and breath (verse 25), and that human beings are his offspring (verses 28 and 29). God’s parenthood is traced back to the single ancestor of all the nations (unnamed here but likely imagined as Adam, verse 26), thus challenging any one group’s claim to superiority. This is a theology of relationship and connection, rooted in the created world. Indeed, Paul’s cross-cultural preaching encourages a broadening of perspective that moves beyond the boundaries of the human altogether to incorporate all that God has made.

Interestingly, in Paul and Barnabas’s earlier (much shorter) speech to the gentiles in Lystra, attention is also drawn to the natural world in the reference to “the living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea and all that is in them” (14:15). This is the God whom the crowd is told “has not left himself without a witness in doing good—giving you rains from heaven and fruitful seasons, and filling you with food and your hearts with joy” (14:17).

Ecologically conscious commentators and preachers have found within Paul’s speech to the Areopagus a mandate for creation care. For example, Peter Harris, co-founder of Christian conservation charity A Rocha, writes the following about this passage:

Paul’s understanding of God the Creator, the Lord of heaven and earth, leads him to see the futility of any religious attempt either to bring something of value to God in sacrifice, or to somehow privatize or capture God by what we do. … Rather, we understand who we are through the lens of our primary relationship to the God who has created and sustains not just us, but everything on earth.⁴

Within Paul’s speech, therefore, we can discover an invitation to reflect on our human identity, our relationships with one another, and our connections with the rest of the created world, which is not simply background or scenery, but a vital part of the wholeness into which we are being called.

Notes

1. F. F. Bruce, The Acts of the Apostles: The Greek Text with Introduction and Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1990), 353.
2. Craig Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2014), 2627–2628.
3. Stephanie Paulsell, Honoring the Body: Meditations on a Christian Practice (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2019), 180.
4. Peter Harris and Stella Simiyu, Caring for Creation: Part of Our Gospel Calling? (Cambridge, UK: Grove Books, 2008), 21.

Psalm 66 is a hymn of thanksgiving in which the voices of the community of faith (verses 1–12) mingle with the voice of an individual psalm singer (verses 13–20).¹

Verses 1–5 of the psalm echo Psalm 65’s celebration of the goodness of the creator God: “Make a joyful noise to God, all the earth. … Come and see what God has done: he is awesome in his deeds among mortals (bene ’adam)” (verses 1 and 5). In verses 6–7, the psalm singers continue by celebrating the good provisions of God to Israel during the exodus and wilderness wanderings.

In verses 8 and 9, the beginning of this week’s reading, the psalm singers continue their recounting of God’s good provisions expressed in verses 6 and 7, but in more generalized language. Verse 9 states that God has “kept us among the living” and “not let our feet slip” (see also Psalms 16:8; 17:5; 55:22). While not as direct a reference to the exodus as we see in verses 6 and 7, these words affirm God’s continuing acts of deliverance of the faithful. They suggest, in the words of Walter Brueggemann, that “the exodus recurs again and again, in new circumstances.”² Richard Clifford adds that “saving events of every age ‘renew’ the great saving event of the exodus.”³

The focus shifts in verses 10–12 from God’s ongoing deliverance to a recollection of the testing that the faithful have undergone at the hands of God. As with the generalized language of God’s deliverance in verses 8 and 9, the trials and testings in verses 10–12 are not event-specific, permitting the words to be understood in a more universal way. The word translated “people” in verse 12 (“you let people ride over our heads”) is the Hebrew word ’enosh, used in biblical Hebrew to designate the very human character (frail and flawed) of humanity.

Whether specific or universal, how do we understand words about God’s testing of the faithful? J. Clinton McCann writes, “Tests and trials need not evoke the concept of punishment; indeed, they most frequently suggest that God is examining a person for the purpose of vindicating him or her.”⁴

Such an understanding of these words in Psalm 66 is confirmed by the “envelope” structure around them in verses 9 and 12c: “who has kept us among the living, and not let our feet slip … you have brought us out to a spacious place.” The word translated “spacious place” in the New Revised Standard Version translation is the same Hebrew word translated “overflows” in Psalm 23:5—“my cup overflows.” Thus, the “spacious place” of Psalm 66:12 is one that provides abundance after one goes through various trials and tests, just as the overflowing cup of Psalm 23 comes after the psalm singer has “walk[ed] through the darkest valley” and is “in the presence of enemies” (Psalm 23:4, 5).

Another shift occurs in verses 13–15. There, the voice of the community gives way to the voice of an individual, who states that she will come into the house of God with burnt offerings to pay the vows “that my lips uttered and my mouth promised when I was in trouble” (verse 14). While movement from plural voices to a singular one and from singular to plural is not unusual in the psalms (see Psalms 20, 103, and 123, for example), we might understand the singular voice here as that of one of the individuals whom God has delivered (verses 5–7) who is offering her own thanks to God.

As with the recollections of verses 8–12, the words of verse 14 do not specify the nature of the trouble that the psalmist has undergone. Rather, they may be understood as an invitation to anyone who has experienced troubles to follow the psalm singer’s lead in making offerings of thanks to God.

In verses 16–19, the psalm singer recounts the journey she undertook in her quest for God’s deliverance. She “cried aloud” and “extolled” (highly praised) God (verse 17); and she did not cherish “iniquity” (wickedness) in her heart (verse 18). Thus, God “listened” and “gave heed to” (paid attention to) the words of her prayer. In the closing words of the psalm, the singer offers blessing to God because, she says, God “has not rejected my prayers or removed his steadfast love from me.”

Again, how do we understand verse 19, where the psalm singer says that God has “given heed” to the words of her prayer? Are the singer’s prayers answered only because she has offered the proper burnt offerings? James L. Mays writes, “The offerings are presented to keep the promises made in prayers for help in times of trouble. They are not to be thought of as ways to pay God back but rather as ritual acts of acknowledgment and confession.”⁵ The psalm concludes in verse 20 with an affirmation of God’s care for the psalm singer—God has not rejected her prayer or removed God’s steadfast love (hesed) from her.

The superscription of Psalm 66 in the Septuagint and the Vulgate is: “To the end (for example, forever), a song, a psalm of resurrection.” The creator God, who delivered the Israelites from Egypt, continues to deliver the faithful in recurring exoduses in new life situations, giving new life to those delivered.

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for May 17, 2020.
2. Walter Brueggemann, The Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), 138.
3. Richard J. Clifford, Psalms 1–72, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries (Nashville: Abingdon, 2002), 310.
4. J. Clinton McCann Jr., “The Book of Psalms,” in The New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. 3, ed. Leander E. Keck (Nashville: Abingdon, 2015), 485.
5. James L. Mays, Psalms, Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 223.

Morality is the concern in 1 Peter 3:13–22. “Now who will harm you if you are eager to do what is good?” (3:13). The author makes multiple appeals that their audience maintain “good conscience” (3:16, 21) and “good conduct” (3:16).

Morals need context: Whose morality?

For good reason, the lectionary skips 1 Peter’s version of the “household codes” in 2:18–3:7. In this section of the letter, the author exhorts enslaved people to submit to their enslavers “with all respect,” regardless of whether these enslavers are good and gentle or dishonest (2:18; see further 2:18–25). The author then commands wives to be subject to their husbands and encourages women to “win over” men who do not “obey the word” through purity and respectable conduct (3:1–2; see further 3:1–7).

Similar household codes appear in Colossians 3:18–4:1 and Ephesians 5:21–6:9 (and echoes of their ideas can be found in 1 Timothy and Titus). These codes’ commands replicate Roman imperial expectations for how elite men should govern their households, subordinating all others under their rule. Governing the household was like ruling a miniature empire.

We don’t and shouldn’t read this segment of 1 Peter aloud in worship, but that doesn’t mean we can’t address it and condemn the abusive injustice of its words. First Peter’s household codes have been cited by preachers to encourage women to stay in abusive relationships and to legitimate enslavement, including cruel treatment of enslaved humans.

Naming the horrific legacy of 1 Peter’s household codes is not a detour away from the good conscience that enables doing “what is good” in 3:13–22. In 1 Peter’s moral schema, “good conduct” begins with the household codes. Roman enslavers praised the goodness of enslaved people who were able to adopt and anticipate their enslaver’s mindset: a good conscience. First Peter’s moral universe replicates the hierarchy of empire and deems it good. Anything that resists this rigid structure becomes evil. Goodness means Roman morality.

The author pontificates, “For it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil” (3:17). Read in light of 2:18–3:7, we expose that—for women, enslaved people, and others at the bottom of Roman society—suffering for “doing good” meant enduring violence despite obediently submitting to the rules. “Doing evil” in this context might be any number of resistant acts that enslaved women took to enable their own moral agency: laziness, work stoppage, fleeing, and killing their husbands or enslavers. The author claims suffering for obedience as God’s will. They promise an impossible fantasy: The empire, via God, will reward “good” suffering. In reality, the suffering lays bare this optimism’s cruelty. Obedient goodness sustains empire’s moral hierarchy.

Like other New Testament texts containing household codes, 1 Peter seemingly preaches moral goodness in ways that seek positive attention from Rome’s elite, perhaps hoping that living into Roman goodness will lead the audience upward in this hierarchical society. This household-based morality tones down and demands order from women and enslaved people, whom we know were prominent among the leaders in the earliest Christ-assemblies.

The author of 1 Peter gives a new theological explanation for baptism: “And baptism, which this prefigured, now saves you—not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (3:21). This “good conscience” marks a departure from the more egalitarian ethos proclaimed in one of the earliest baptismal formulas: “There is no longer slave nor free, male and female” (as quoted in Galatians 3:28). As opposed to other theological meanings, for 1 Peter, baptism now saves as an appeal to the good conscience and conduct reflected in obedient suffering. Instead of removing the “dirt” of one’s social status, baptism keeps everyone in their place.

Who gets to be good today?

Reading the moral idea of goodness in 1 Peter 3:13–22 requires a recognition of its broader context in the letter and its imperial world. Goodness is contextual, and its terms tend to be determined by those with sociopolitical power. Roman imperialism defined and enforced goodness. The writer of 1 Peter, like many other Roman subjects, accepts and replicates these moral terms.

Writing about the impact of the household codes from a womanist perspective, Clarice Martin acknowledges the truth made blatant in these narratives: Early Christian texts predominantly reflect non-enslaved men’s perspectives. They may proclaim glimmers of justice, but they are limited by their author’s relative privilege. Martin writes, “We must create and nurture strategies and paradigms that can provide clues to the more empowering and inclusive traditions in the Early Christian movement.”¹ Recognizing how 1 Peter’s baptism for good conscience tones down a more egalitarian ethos in favor of conforming to Roman goodness makes space to consider alternative moralities then and now.

First Peter’s household code continues to impact understandings of goodness today. It stands behind celebrations of long-term monogamous marriages as the bedrock ideal for social stability. It urges suffering without investing in change. It leaves many folks to suffer obediently at the margins, trying their best to become good. Noticing who gets to be good in 1 Peter can help us notice who does and doesn’t get to be good today. A critical reading of 1 Peter demands renewed ethical reflection in community: What does it mean to define goodness differently? What does goodness look like when it reflects the lives, needs, and desires of those most marginalized?

Notes

1. Clarice J. Martin, “The Haustafeln (Household Codes) in African American Biblical Interpretation: ‘Free Slaves’ and ‘Subordinate Women’,” in Cain Hope Felder, ed., Stony the Road We Trod: African American Biblical Interpretation. 30^th Anniversary expanded ed. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2021), 255.