Mehmet Ali Ağca was a member of the Grey Wolves, an Islamic extremist group. On the group’s orders, Ağca assassinated a Turkish newspaper editor in 1979. He was caught and sentenced to life in prison, but he escaped with the help of the Grey Wolves and fled to Bulgaria.

Two years later, the Turkish mafia offered him a contract to kill Pope John Paul II. On May 13th, 1981, Ağca shot the Pope in St. Peter’s Square. In July 1981, Ağca was given a life sentence by the Italian authorities. While many around the world were enraged by the act—perhaps hoping for severe punishment or the death penalty, developing feelings of hatred toward Ağca—Pope John Paul spoke out in his defense, asking his followers to “pray for my brother, whom I have sincerely forgiven.”

What John Paul did was claim the power of the Gospel. We claim the power of the Gospel every Mass: “With Thrones and Dominions, and with all the hosts and Powers of heaven…”

This language comes from the Letter to the Colossians. It is one of the later-written letters in the New Testament, attributed to Paul—though most likely not written by him. Whoever wrote it, however, is clearly drawing on his teaching and even quoting him in places.

We read from the beginning of the letter, Colossians 1:15–20, the great summary of the Christian faith, which was probably an early Christian hymn. We don’t have the music that went along with it, but it is so important that it makes it into the Creed regarding Christ.

It begins with an overview of creation: “Christ Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and invisible.”

And then it goes into an overview of redemption (redemption is what we call Jesus’s action of liberating humanity from captivity to sin): “He is the head of the body, the Church, the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, reconciling all things in himself through the blood of his cross.”

This is a huge development of the early Church in their understanding of God as Trinity: the fullness of God dwells in Jesus, revealing that from the beginning, all three persons of the Trinity are always acting together in the action of reconciliation. In other words: The Gospel is about the unifying power of Jesus.

Our mission is to align ourselves with the unifying power of Jesus—that is what we call salvation. Redemption is Jesus opening the door. Salvation is me walking through it.

If in Christ all things hold together, then the clear implication is that outside of Christ, all things will not hold together. The power of God unites. The power of sin scatters.

The word power occurs nine times in the first two chapters of the Letter to the Colossians. The world is a network of powers—but it is not functioning well, in case you haven’t noticed. That is what we mean by the condition of sin.

The hymn talks about thrones and dominions, principalities and powers. These are authorities of all different kinds in the world. Paul teaches on these in Romans 13: “Let every person be subject to the higher authorities, for there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been established by God and are servants of God for your good.”

Because God is the creator of all things, power itself is a positive force. The thrones, dominions, principalities, and powers are supposed to hold things together, to bring order so that people can thrive. But in the condition of sin, the powers have come into rivalry with each other and are now in competition to create order, yes, but this time through domination, conquest, and violence.

We don’t have to imagine it, we experience it daily: division and conflict.

The response to this imbalance of power is the power of Christ to unite all things together through reconciliation. This is the fulfillment of God’s promise.

We also heard of that promise today from the Book of Deuteronomy, the great summary of God’s promise in the Old Testament, where God is recognized as the ultimate power. God has the power to bless or to curse, and the sign of blessing, as promised to Abraham, is the gathering of the scattered peoples of the world into one united human family.

Four times in this chapter of Deuteronomy, the people are told that if they want to be blessed, they must heed the voice of the Lord: “If you and your children return to the Lord and heed his voice, the Lord your God will gather you from the nations where he has scattered you…”

As Christians, Jesus is the Word of God made flesh. God’s promise is found through him, with him, and in him. As the Colossians hymn says: “For in Jesus all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile all things for himself, making peace by the blood of his cross.”

If the Gospel is about the unifying power of Jesus, then the only way that the systems of power in the world will function properly is if they submit to the action of reconciliation and peace that comes uniquely through Christ’s sacrifice on the cross.

The implication is that my power will not fall into temptation if I am willing to enter into the suffering of others—and instead of using my power to give them what I think they deserve, I claim the power of Christ over them to lift them up.

Bearing the burden of another person is the greatest form of power.

Jesus teaches this in the Parable of the Good Samaritan.The parable is directed to a scholar of the law. He is one of the principalities and powers in the religious sphere. He asks, “What must I do to enter eternal life? I want to be sure that I get in.” But Jesus sees behind his question. Behind the question is the assumption that eternal life is only for a select few special people—and that he is one of them.

Jesus responds, “Well, you’re a scholar. You know that the way to eternal life is to follow the law. How do you read it?” He replies, “Well, there are basically two great commandments: love God and love your neighbor.” Jesus agrees, but then the story says that this man, wishing to justify himself, asked: “Who is my neighbor?”

He was trying to test Jesus, but instead Jesus led him to reveal the assumption behind his question. His real question is: How do I know which people are worth helping? Because clearly, some people are not worthy of eternal life like I am.

This is where the parable comes in. He tells the story of a man who was robbed and beaten and is encountered by two priests and a Samaritan. Samaritans were considered to be impure Jews who intermarried with pagans during the Assyrian conquest of northern Israel. They took Mount Gerizim instead of Mount Sinai as their most holy site. For the Jews, the Samaritans had been polluted by contact with the Assyrians. They were religious heretics. They didn’t even worship correctly. They were considered completely worthless.

We call this the Parable of the Good Samaritan, but for the Jews, there were no good Samaritans. All were bad. In turn, the Samaritans responded with hatred against the Jews. They even committed terrorist acts against them. During Jesus’ lifetime, a group of Samaritans broke into the temple during a Passover feast and scattered human remains all over the temple so that it was unclean and no one could go in during that most holy season.

With this parable, Jesus is forcing this exclusive elite scholar to forego his bias and admit that Samaritans are actually capable of being good. If this Samaritan is willing to help a Jew, then he is to go and do likewise. In other words: “If you really want to have eternal life, you have to be willing to have the Samaritan gathered into the Kingdom, in spite of everything you think about them. You cannot exclude anyone.”

The scholar didn’t like this answer. What was the response to Jesus’ challenge? Crucifixion. Assassination.

When our principalities and powers are under the influence of sin, they resist the Gospel, resist conversion, resist change, reject the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I am wrong.

On the cross, Jesus revealed the way the network of powers works. He placed himself, God placed himself, under corrupt human power to be in solidarity with all those who are oppressed by it.

We’ve all been victims of corrupt human power, some in the most horrible of ways: victims of hatred, abuse, neglect, violence, and indifference. But then comes the Resurrection, where we receive the good news that there is a power beyond anything that could ever try to tear you apart—a power that heals and reconciles, restores peace—a power now present in the Body of Christ, the Church.

Jesus is the head of the body, the Church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead.

The Church is the place where the gathering together of peoples is centered.

Think of the person you hate the most—it is usually someone who abused their power over you. Eternal life is gathering with that person in the presence of Jesus.

Jesus says: “Whoever is not with me is against me. Whoever does not gather with me scatters.”

That is the challenge of the Gospel—to love our enemy. The only way to heal the divisions of the world is to actively work to gather people in. Otherwise, divisions will only get worse.

Pope Francis emphasized that the Eucharist cannot be used as a way of judging or excluding people, referring to it as “medicine for the sinner, not a reward for the just.” The Eucharist is an anticipation of the gathering of all peoples, makes visible to us the reality that in Christ, all the fullness was pleased to dwell, and through him, with him and in him, to reconcile all things, making peace by the blood of his cross.

That is why before you receive the Eucharist, we must participate in the sign of peace. You have to imagine the person who has hurt you the most sitting next to you—and giving the sign of peace to that person.

Two years after Ağca tried to assassinate the Pope, John Paul visited him in the maximum-security prison where he was held. They held hands several times during their 20-minute meeting, and toward the end, Ağca bowed his head to kiss the Pope’s ring. The Pope also brought a gift for him: a silver and mother-of-pearl rosary in a white box.

Time Magazine reported: “After John Paul left, the camera recorded a sudden look of uncertainty on Ağca’s face. Perhaps he was thinking about the prospect of spending the rest of his life in jail for attempting to kill a man he did not know—a man who now came to him as a friend.”

After 19 years in prison in Italy, Ağca was pardoned by President Carlo Ciampi at the Pope’s request. He was then deported to Turkey to serve another 10-year sentence. The Pope remained in contact with Ağca and his family over the years, meeting both his mother and his brother. As the Pope’s health declined in 2005, Ağca wrote to him with best wishes. When the Pope died, Ağca traveled to the Vatican and laid white roses on John Paul’s tomb.

In 2020, he reflected back on the events of his life: “The Pope became like a brother to me. When he died, I felt like my brother or my best friend had died. It was destiny that he survived. I’m very glad he didn’t die.”

In Jesus, all the fullness was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile all things for him, making peace by the blood of his cross.