First Reading • Acts 2:14a, 36-41
Psalm • Psalm 23: 1-3a, 3b4, 5, 6
Second Reading • 1 Peter 2:20b-25
Gospel • John 10:1-10
Over the past months, much of the world’s attention has been focused on the conflict in Iran. Yet another intense struggle has been unfolding in southern Lebanon, where the Israeli army has been attempting to eliminate members of Hezbollah, a militia backed by Iran.
Like many militias, Hezbollah blends into civilian areas, making military action complex and dangerous. Villages become battlegrounds, and ordinary people are caught in the middle.
Before entering these villages, civilians are often ordered to evacuate.
But many cannot leave; either because they have nowhere to go, or because they refuse to abandon their homes and communities.
In one such village, Al-Qlayaa, a priest named Fr. Pierre al-Rahi made a decision that would define his life and witness.
When evacuation orders came, he chose not to leave. He remained with his parishioners, sharing their danger.
In an interview, he explained his decision simply: “We are obliged to stay despite the danger, when we defend our land, and we do so peacefully.
None of us carry weapons. We all bring peace, kindness and love.” The next day, (March 9, 2026) when a parishioner’s house was struck by a tank, Fr. Pierre rushed to help the wounded. As he and others tried to assist, the tank fired again. He was injured and later died from his wounds.
The news of his death spread everywhere throughout Lebanon and the world. Fr Pierre’s last name, “al-Rahi”, literally means, “the shepherd”. So, Pope Leo described him as “a true shepherd, who always stayed beside his people, with the love and sacrifice of Jesus the Good Shepherd.”
Fr. Pierre al-Rahi heard the call of Jesus crying out to him through his parishioners who were in danger. And following Jesus’ example, he gave his life so that others could be free.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus calls Himself the Good Shepherd who comes so that His people may have life, life in abundance. He knows His sheep, and they know His voice.
This image is not only about Jesus; it is also about us. Each one of us is called by Him. Each one is chosen for a mission, a service that only we can fulfill.
Not all of us are called to dramatic acts like Fr. Pierre.
Most of us are called in quieter, everyday ways: to raise children in faith, to care for family members, to teach catechism, to be honest in our workplaces, to show kindness to neighbors, to witness to Christ through simple acts of love.
These tasks may seem small, but they are essential. Together, they build up the Kingdom of God and continue the mission of the Church.
But how do we hear this call? How do we recognize the voice of the Good Shepherd?
God speaks in many ways. Sometimes, it is in the silence of prayer, where we sense a gentle urging in our hearts.
At other times, it may come as a restlessness, an inner push that invites us to act, to step forward, to do something meaningful.
Often, God speaks through others. A friend, a family member, or a parishioner may notice gifts in us and encourage us. Many vocations begin with a simple suggestion: “Have you ever thought about this?” or “You would be good at that.”
Yet, a question remains: how do we know it is truly God’s voice and not just our own desires? There is no single formula, but there are signs.
A true call from God tends to remain. It does not disappear quickly. It returns again and again, gently but persistently.
It brings a certain peace, even if it also brings challenge. Over time, we begin to recognize that it is not something we created, but something given.
Still, every vocation must be tested. God’s call is not meant to remain private or hidden. It is confirmed in community. Others help us discern.
In marriage, for example, the call is confirmed when two people recognize the same invitation to love and commit to one another.
In other vocations, the Church and the community help affirm whether the call is genuine.
If a calling is truly from God, it will bear fruit and be recognized by others. If it is not, it will eventually fade or prove unworkable.
One of the greatest obstacles to hearing God’s voice is fear.
We fear that God may ask too much of us. We fear that we are not capable, not worthy, or not ready.
But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is gentle and trustworthy. He does not lead us into paths we cannot walk. He goes before us.
Even when the path includes sacrifice, it also brings grace, strength, and deep joy.
Fr. Pierre al-Rahi’s life reminds us of this truth. He did not seek martyrdom, but he chose love over safety, presence over escape.
Each of us is invited into that same pattern, in ways big or small.
A good shepherd has no other choice but to love his sheep. Even when they wander away, when they cause pain, when they bring sorrow and disappointment, the shepherd does not stop loving. He seeks, he waits, he forgives, and he calls them back with patience and tenderness.
True shepherding is not about control, but about compassion; not about being obeyed, but about remaining faithful in love.
It is a love that endures rejection, carries wounds quietly, and still hopes for the return of the lost.
In our own lives too, we are called to this kind of shepherd’s heart; in our families, in our communities, in our ministry; loving not only when it is easy, but especially when it is difficult.
May the Lord, the Good Shepherd, form our hearts like His, that we may never give up on those entrusted to us, but continue to love, to guide, and to pray for them always.
