Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In this Sunday's Gospel there is an expression of Jesus that always attracts our attention and needs to be properly understood. 

While he is on his way to Jerusalem, where death on a cross awaits him, Christ asked his disciples: "Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division". And he adds: "[H]enceforth in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against her mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Lk 12: 51-53). 

Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of Christ's Gospel knows that it is a message of peace par excellence; as St Paul wrote, Jesus himself "is our peace" (Eph 2: 14), the One who died and rose in order to pull down the wall of enmity and inaugurate the Kingdom of God which is love, joy and peace. 

So how can his words be explained? To what was the Lord referring when he said he had come - according to St Luke's version - to bring "division" or - according to St Matthew's - the "sword" (Mt 10: 34)? 

Christ's words mean that the peace he came to bring us is not synonymous with the mere absence of conflicts. On the contrary, Jesus' peace is the result of a constant battle against evil. The fight that Jesus is determined to support is not against human beings or human powers, but against Satan, the enemy of God and man. 

Anyone who desires to resist this enemy by remaining faithful to God and to good, must necessarily confront misunderstandings and sometimes real persecutions. 

All, therefore, who intend to follow Jesus and to commit themselves without compromise to the truth, must know that they will encounter opposition and that in spite of themselves they will become a sign of division between people, even in their own families. In fact, love for one's parents is a holy commandment, but to be lived authentically it can never take precedence over love for God and love for Christ. 

Thus, following in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus, in accordance with St Francis of Assisi's famous words, Christians become "instruments of peace"; not of a peace that is inconsistent and only apparent but one that is real, pursued with courage and tenacity in the daily commitment to overcome evil with good (cf. Rom 12: 21) and paying in person the price that this entails. 

The Virgin Mary, Queen of Peace, shared until his martyrdom her Son Jesus' fight with the Devil and continues to share in it to the end of time. Let us invoke her motherly intercession so that she may help us always to be witnesses of Christ's peace and never to sink so low as to make compromises with evil.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 19 August 2007]

1. The World Day of Peace this year is being celebrated in the shadow of the dramatic events of 11 September last. On that day, a terrible crime was committed: in a few brief hours thousands of innocent people of many ethnic backgrounds were slaughtered. Since then, people throughout the world have felt a profound personal vulnerability and a new fear for the future. Addressing this state of mind, the Church testifies to her hope, based on the conviction that evil, the mysterium iniquitatis, does not have the final word in human affairs. The history of salvation, narrated in Sacred Scripture, sheds clear light on the entire history of the world and shows us that human events are always accompanied by the merciful Providence of God, who knows how to touch even the most hardened of hearts and bring good fruits even from what seems utterly barren soil.  

This is the hope which sustains the Church at the beginning of 2002: that, by the grace of God, a world in which the power of evil seems once again to have taken the upper hand will in fact be transformed into a world in which the noblest aspirations of the human heart will triumph, a world in which true peace will prevail.

Peace: the work of justice and love 

2. Recent events, including the terrible killings just mentioned, move me to return to a theme which often stirs in the depths of my heart when I remember the events of history which have marked my life, especially my youth.  

The enormous suffering of peoples and individuals, even among my own friends and acquaintances, caused by Nazi and Communist totalitarianism, has never been far from my thoughts and prayers. I have often paused to reflect on the persistent question: how do we restore the moral and social order subjected to such horrific violence? My reasoned conviction, confirmed in turn by biblical revelation, is that the shattered order cannot be fully restored except by a response that combines justice with forgiveness. The pillars of true peace are justice and that form of love which is forgiveness.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the xxxv World Day of Peace]

The Gospel for this Sunday (Lk 12:49-53) is part of Jesus’ teachings to the disciples during his journey to Jerusalem, where death on the cross awaits him. To explain the purpose of his mission, he takes three images: fire, baptism and division. Today I wish to talk about the first image: fire.

Jesus expresses it with these words: “I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!” (v. 49). The fire that Jesus speaks of is the fire of the Holy Spirit, the presence living and working in us from the day of our Baptism. It — the fire — is a creative force that purifies and renews, that burns all human misery, all selfishness, all sin, which transforms us from within, regenerates us and makes us able to love. Jesus wants the Holy Spirit to blaze like fire in our heart, for it is only from the heart that the fire of divine love can spread and advance the Kingdom of God. It does not come from the head, it comes from the heart. This is why Jesus wants fire to enter our heart. If we open ourselves completely to the action of this fire which is the Holy Spirit, He will give us the boldness and the fervor to proclaim to everyone Jesus and his consoling message of mercy and salvation, navigating on the open sea, without fear.

In fulfilling her mission in the world, the Church — namely all of us who make up the Church — needs the Holy Spirit’s help so as not to let herself be held back by fear and by calculation, so as not to become accustomed to walking inside of safe borders. These two attitudes lead the Church to be a functional Church, which never takes risks. Instead, the apostolic courage that the Holy Spirit kindles in us like a fire helps us to overcome walls and barriers, makes us creative and spurs us to get moving in order to walk even on uncharted or arduous paths, offering hope to those we meet. With this fire of the Holy Spirit we are called to become, more and more, communities of people who are guided and transformed, full of understanding; people with expanded hearts and joyful faces. Now more than ever there is need for priests, consecrated people and lay faithful, with the attentive gaze of an apostle, to be moved by and to pause before hardship and material and spiritual poverty, thus characterizing the journey of evangelization and of the mission with the healing cadence of closeness. It is precisely the fire of the Holy Spirit that leads us to be neighbours to others, to the needy, to so much human misery, to so many problems, to refugees, to displaced people, to those who are suffering.

At this moment I am thinking with admiration especially of the many priests, men and women religious and lay faithful who, throughout the world, are dedicated to proclaiming the Gospel with great love and faithfulness, often even at the cost of their lives. Their exemplary testimony reminds us that the Church does not need bureaucrats and diligent officials, but passionate missionaries, consumed by ardour to bring to everyone the consoling word of Jesus and his grace. This is the fire of the Holy Spirit. If the Church does not receive this fire, or does not let it inflame her, she becomes a cold or merely lukewarm Church, incapable of giving life, because she is made up of cold and lukewarm Christians. It will do us good today to take five minutes to ask ourselves: “How is my heart? Is it cold? Is it lukewarm? Is it capable of receiving this fire?”. Let us take five minutes for this. It will do everyone good.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 14 August 2016]

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [19 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. Once again, a strong reminder of how to live our faith in every situation in life.

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:8-13)

 The test of faith. On Israel's journey through the desert, the encounter with the Amalekites marks a decisive stage: it is the first battle of the people freed from Egypt, but also the first great test of their faith. The Amalekites, descendants of Esau, represent in biblical tradition the hereditary enemy, a figure of evil who tries to prevent God's people from reaching the promised land. Their sudden attack on the rear of the caravan — the weakest and most tired — reveals the logic of evil: to strike where faith falters, where fatigue and fear open the door to doubt. This episode takes place at Rephidim, the same place as Massah and Meribah, where Israel had already murmured against God because of the lack of water. There the people had experienced the trial of thirst, now they experience the trial of combat: in both cases, the temptation is the same — to think that God is no longer with them. But once again God intervenes, showing that faith is purified through struggle and that trust must remain firm even in danger. While Joshua fights in the plain, Moses climbs the mountain with God's staff in his hand — a sign of his presence and power. The story does not focus on the movements of the troops, but on Moses' gesture: his hands raised towards the sky. It is not a magical gesture: it is prayer that sustains the battle, faith that becomes strength for the whole people. When Moses' arms fall, Israel loses; when they remain raised, Israel wins. Victory therefore depends not only on the strength of weapons, but on communion with God and persevering prayer. Moses grows tired, Aaron and Hur support his hands: this is the image of spiritual brotherhood, of the community that bears the weight of faith together. Thus, prayer is not isolation, but solidarity: those who pray support others, and those who fight draw strength from the prayers of their brothers and sisters. This episode thus becomes a paradigm of spiritual life: Israel, fragile and still on its journey, learns that victory does not come from human strength, but from trust in God. Prayer, represented by Moses' raised hands, does not replace action but accompanies and transfigures it. The person who prays and the person who fights are two faces of the same believer: one fights in the world, the other intercedes before God, and both participate in the one work of salvation. Finally, the praying community becomes the living sign of God's presence at work in his people, and when a believer no longer has the strength to pray, the faith of his brothers and sisters sustains him. The story of Amalek at Rephidim is not just a page in history, but an icon of Christian life: we all live our battles knowing that victory belongs to God and that prayer is the source of all strength and the guarantee of God's presence.

Responsorial Psalm (120/121) 

Psalm 120/121 belongs to the group of 'Psalms of Ascents' (Ps 120-134), composed to accompany the pilgrimages of the people of Israel to Jerusalem, the holy city situated on high, symbol of the place where God dwells among his people. The verb 'to ascend' indicates not only geographical ascent but also and above all a spiritual movement, a conversion of the heart that brings the believer closer to God. Each pilgrimage was a sign of the Covenant and an act of faith for Israel: the people, travelling from all parts of the country, renewed their trust in the Lord. When the psalm speaks in the first person — "I lift up my eyes to the mountains" — it actually gives voice to the collective "we" of all Israel, the people marching towards God. This journey is an image of the entire history of Israel, a long march in which fatigue, waiting, danger and trust are intertwined. The roads that lead to Jerusalem, in addition to being stone roads, are spiritual paths marked by trials and risks. Fatigue, loneliness, external threats — robbers, animals, scorching sun, cold nights — become symbols of the difficulties of faith. In this situation, the words of the psalm are a profession of absolute trust: "My help comes from the Lord: he   made heaven and earth." These words affirm that true help comes not from human powers or mute idols, but from the living God, Creator of the universe, who never sleeps and never abandons his people. He is called "the Guardian of Israel": the one who watches over us constantly, who accompanies us, who is close to us like a shadow that protects us from the sun and the moon. The Hebrew expression "at your right hand" indicates an intimate and faithful presence, like that of an inseparable companion. The people who pray this psalm thus remember the pillar of cloud and fire that guided Israel in the desert, a sign of God who protects day and night, accompanying them on their journey and guarding their lives. Therefore, the psalmist can say: 'The Lord will guard you from all evil; he will guard your life. The Lord will guard you when you go out and when you come in, from now on and forever." The pilgrim who "goes up" to Jerusalem becomes the image of the believer who entrusts himself to God alone, renouncing idols and false securities. This movement is conversion: turning away from what is vain to turn towards the God who saves. In the New Testament, Jesus himself was able to pray this psalm as he "went up to Jerusalem" (Lk 9:51). He walks the path of Israel and of every human being, entrusting his life to the Father. The words "The Lord will guard your life" find their full fulfilment at Easter, when the pilgrim's return becomes resurrection because it is a return to new and definitive life. Thus, Psalm 121 is much more than a prayer for travel: it is the confession of faith of a people on a journey, the proclamation that God is faithful and that his presence accompanies every step of existence. In it, historical memory, theological trust and eschatological hope come together. Israel, the believer and Christ himself share the same certainty: God guards life and every ascent, even the most difficult, leads to communion with Him.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (3:14-4:2)

In this passage from the second letter to Timothy (3:14-4:2), Paul entrusts his disciple with the most precious legacy: fidelity to the Word of God. It is a text written at a difficult time, marked by doctrinal confusion and tensions in the community of Ephesus. Timothy is called to be a 'guardian of the Word' in the midst of a world that risks losing the truth it has received. The first words, 'Remain faithful to what you have learned', make it clear that others have abandoned the apostolic teaching: fidelity then becomes an act of spiritual resistance, a remaining anchored to the source. Paul speaks of 'dwelling' in the Word: faith is not an object to be possessed, but an environment in which to live. Timothy entered into it as a child thanks to his mother Eunice and his grandmother Lois, women of faith who passed on to him a love for the Scriptures. Here we have a reference to the communal and traditional character of faith: no one discovers the Word on their own, but always in the Church. Access to Scripture takes place within the living Tradition, that 'chain' that starts with Christ, passes through the apostles and continues in believers. 'Tradere' in Latin means 'to transmit': what is received is given. In this fidelity, Scripture is a source of living water that regenerates the believer and roots him in the truth. Paul affirms that the Holy Scriptures can instruct for the salvation that is obtained through faith in Christ Jesus (v. 15). The Old Testament is the path that leads to Christ: the entire history of Israel prepares for the fulfilment of the Paschal mystery. 'All Scripture is inspired by God': even before it became dogma, it was the deep conviction of the people of Israel, from which arose respect for the holy books kept in the synagogues. Divine inspiration does not cancel out the human word, but transfigures it, making it an instrument of the Spirit. Scripture, therefore, is not just another book, but a living presence of God that forms, educates, corrects and sanctifies: thanks to it, the man of God will be perfect, equipped for every good work (vv. 16-17). From this source springs the mission, and Paul entrusts Timothy with the decisive command: "Proclaim the Word, insist on it at the opportune and inopportune moment" (v. 4:2) because the proclamation of the Gospel is a necessity, not an optional task. The solemn reference to Christ's judgement of the living and the dead shows the gravity of apostolic responsibility. Proclaiming the Word means making present the Logos, that is, Christ himself, the living Word of the Father. It is He who communicates himself through the voice of the preacher and the life of the witness. But proclamation requires courage and patience: it is necessary to speak when it is convenient and when it is not, to admonish, correct, encourage, always with a spirit of charity and a desire to build up the community. Truth without love hurts; love without truth empties the Word. For Paul, Scripture is not only memory, but the dynamism of the Spirit. It shapes the mind and heart, forms judgement, inspires choices. Those who dwell in it become "men of God," that is, persons shaped by the Word and made capable of serving. Timothy is invited not only to guard the doctrine, but to make it a source of life for himself and for others. Thus, the Word, accepted and lived, becomes a place of encounter with Christ and a source of renewal for the Church. The apostle does not found anything of his own, but transmits what he has received; in the same way, every believer is called to become a link in this living chain, so that the Word may continue to flow in the world like water that quenches, purifies and fertilises. In summary: Scripture is the source of faith, Tradition is the river that transmits it, and proclamation is the fruit that nourishes the life of the Church. To remain in the Word means to remain in Christ; to proclaim it means to let Him act and speak through us. Only in this way does the man of God become fully formed and the community grow in truth and charity.

From the Gospel according to Luke (18:1-8)

The context of this parable is that of the 'end times': Jesus is walking towards Jerusalem, towards His Passion, death and Resurrection. The disciples perceive the tragic and mysterious epilogue, feel the need for greater faith ('Increase our faith') and are anxious to understand the coming of the Kingdom of God. The term 'Son of Man', already present in Daniel (7), indicates the one who comes on the clouds, receives universal and eternal kingship, and also represents, in the original sense, a collective being, the people of the Saints of the Most High. Jesus uses it to refer to himself, reassuring his disciples about God's ultimate victory, even in a context of imminent difficulties. The reference to judgement and the Kingdom emphasises the eschatological perspective: God will do justice to his chosen ones, the Kingdom has already begun, but it will be fully realised at the end. The parable of the persistent widow is at the heart of the message: before an unjust judge, the widow is not discouraged because her cause is just. This example combines two virtues essential to Christians: humility, recognising one's poverty (first beatitude: 'Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God'), and perseverance, confident insistence in prayer and justice. The widow's persistence becomes a paradigm for faith in waiting for the Kingdom: our cause, too, based on God's will, requires tenacity. The text also recalls the connection with the episode in the Old Testament: during the battle against the Amalekites, Moses prays persistently on the hill while Joshua fights on the plain. The victory of the people depends on the presence and intervention of God, supported by Moses' persevering prayer. The parable of the widow has the same function: to remind believers, of all times, that faith is a continuous struggle, a test of endurance in the face of difficulties, opposition and doubts. Jesus' concluding question, "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?", is a universal warning: faith should never be taken for granted; it must be guarded, nurtured and protected. From the early morning of the Resurrection until the final coming of the Son of Man, faith is a struggle of constancy and trust, even when the Kingdom seems far away. The widow teaches us how to face the wait: humble, stubborn, confident, aware of our weakness but certain of God's justice and saving will, which never disappoints those who trust in him totally. Luke seems to be writing to a community threatened by discouragement, as suggested by the final sentence: 'When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?'. This phrase, while appearing pessimistic, is actually a warning to be vigilant: faith must be guarded and nurtured, not taken for granted. The text forms an inclusion: the first sentence teaches what faith is — 'We must always pray without losing heart' — and the final sentence calls for perseverance. Between the two, the example of the stubborn widow, treated unjustly but who does not give up, shows concretely how to practise this faith. The overall teaching is clear: faith is a constant commitment, an active resistance, which requires stubbornness, humility and trust in God's justice, even in the face of difficulties and the apparent absence of a response.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Without intimate contentions

(Lk 12:39-48)

Jesus reproaches his intimates [those of the House]: it’s neither love nor freedom not to be able to understand in which direction to go, not to have a goal that transmits meaning to our pilgrimage.

Already in the communities of the first centuries was alive the idea of the end of the world and of the immediately subsequent «return» of the Risen One - to fix things, like any other Messiah. So someone didn’t commit himself anymore. Others was remaining with their noses up, to peer into the sky.

But the Coming of Christ is always imminent, and the Judgment on the things of the world has already been pronounced on the Cross.

In his Spirit who makes all events new, and in his disciples, the Lord has never moved elsewhere (nor above) [cf. Mt 28,20].

The final phase of history begins precisely from this germ of Faith not alienated, of Person not repressed, and of an alternative society; but the history to be written is the task of the Church.

The new heaven and new earth of the divinising Presence is already throbbing. In this way, He is next to us when we fight for realization and the full existence of everyone.

In no passage of the Gospels it’s written that Jesus «will return»: although not perceptible to the senses, He never went away.

He enjoys a full Life, not conditioned by space-time coordinates like ours.

He is the One Coming [Greek text, passim]: the One who incessantly makes Himself Present, and becomes a travelling companion - not only in exceptional figure.

The attention of the impressionable people already in the 80s shifted (unfortunately) to the Return instead of the «unceasing Coming» [that is, perception of his Friendship in even common things, in the Appeal of the needy; in the Call of intuitions, of the Word, of the companions of our journey; in the genius of time, and even in everyday facts].

His «Coming» is: in the goals that smile, but even and perhaps more in the obstacles to be lived, shifting our gaze - in the disappointments, wich lead us to seek a less outward joy.

Thus, according to the Lord’s desire, the good guide of the Christian community will become a servant of the lost, will not appropriate the goods of the Church, will also become vigilant in favour of others.

It’s essential that the first of the class do not let themselves be carried away by the adolescent desire to self-support and affirm themselves, with greedy for privileges and hoarding of relevant tasks.

Fidelity is an attitude required especially of those who in assemblies have a particular and precise mission of guidance: forbidden to abuse it!

The only desire from which they must feel caught up is to hasten the hour of Communion and introduce a regenerative energy, also in the roles.

But Peter is conditioned by the false traditional teaching, totally antithetical, and he cannot conceive it.

According to the Master, however, leaders of communities are not exclusive privileged or the elected, but those who are asked to do more and better.

Free people.

The only plausible objective of the particular path in the power of the Risen One is of a maternal and universal character: «to give birth to a new world, where all of us are brothers and sisters» [FT n.278].

[Wednesday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 22, 2025]

(Lk 12:39-48)

«You also be ready, for in the hour you do not believe the Son of Man is coming» (Lk 12:40).

Jesus pulls the ears of those in the House, not out of self-denial: it is neither love nor freedom not to be able to understand in which direction to go, not to have a goal that conveys meaning to our pilgrimage in search.

Already in the communities of the early centuries the idea of the end of the world and the immediate subsequent 'return' of the Risen One to set things right - like any Messiah - was alive.

So some were no longer committed. Others remained with their noses in the air, scanning the heavens.

But the Coming of Christ is always imminent, and the Judgement on the things of the world has already been pronounced on the Cross.

In his Spirit who makes all things new, and in his intimates, the Lord has never moved (elsewhere; or on high) [cf. Mt 28:20].

The final phase of history begins precisely from this seed of Faith not alienated, of Person not repressed, and of alternative society; but the history to be written is the task of the Church.

The new heaven and the new earth of the Divinising Presence is already palpitating. In this way, He is beside us as we strive for fulfilment and full life for all.

For this reason, in the epigraph to the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, here stands out the practical and eloquent figure of St Francis "who felt himself a brother to the sun, the sea and the wind, he knew that he was even more united to those who were of his own flesh. Everywhere he sowed peace and walked beside the poor, the abandoned, the sick, the discarded, the last" [n.2].

The Gospels and the recent Magisterium - no longer neutral - intone the de profundis to the peripheral, intimist and empty spirituality that has marked mass Catholicism in the West.

It is clear why in no passage of the Gospels is it written that Jesus 'will return': although not perceptible to the senses, he has never departed.

He enjoys a full Life, unconditioned by space-time coordinates.

He is 'the Coming One' [Greek text, passim]: he who comes without ceasing, and makes himself a companion on the journey - not only in exceptional figures such as the Saint of Assisi.

However, already in the 1880s the attention of impressionable people was (unfortunately) shifting to the Return instead of the providential Coming - the pivot of positive faith in life itself, which reveals the Face of the God-Con.

"Unceasing Coming": it is perception of his Friendship in things, even in the common, in the Call of the needy; in the Call of the insights, of the Word, and of the companions of our journey.

"Coming" is: in the goals that smile, but even and perhaps even more so in the stumbling blocks to be experienced - or circumvented, by shifting our gaze; in the disappointments, which guide us to seek a less outward joy.

It is the 'Advent' of Christ: the vocational instinct that activates us, the sense of vital fraternity, the sensitive friendship of all those who know how to understand, introduce and coordinate - as well as the predilection for quality relationships; the trust in the genius of time, even in everyday events.

In this way and according to the Lord's wish, the good leader of the Christian community will become a servant to the lost, will not appropriate the Church's goods, and will also become vigilant in favour of others.

It is imperative that those at the top of the class do not allow themselves to be carried away by the adolescent desire for self-assertion, with greed for privileges and hoarding of relevant tasks.

Loyalty is an attitude required especially of those who have a particular and precise task in the assemblies, that of leadership: do not abuse it!

The only eagerness they must feel is to hasten the hour of Communion and introduce a regenerative energy, even in their roles.

However, Peter is conditioned by the traditional false teaching, which is completely antithetical; and he cannot conceive it.

According to the Master, however, community leaders and leaders are not privileged or exclusively chosen, but those who are asked to do more and better - not for their benefit!

The world and the Church need fewer fake masters - rather, diligent and convinced servants, who attract by direct testimony. Not by prestige of titles and roles.

Free people.

The only plausible objective of the particular path in the power of the Risen One is of a maternal and universal nature: "to give birth to a new world, where we are all brothers" [FT n.278].

The Tao (LXVI) says: "The reason why rivers and seas can be sovereigns of a hundred valleys is that they keep well below them. So he who wants to be above the people with sayings sets himself below them, he who wants to be before the people with the person sets himself below them.

And Master Ho shang-Kung comments: "The world is not satisfied with the saint, because he does not contend with others for first or last place".To internalise and live the message:

To internalise and live the message:

Have you encountered servants or masters in your community?

Do the leaders help you to seek the leap, the authentic realisation, the inner joy?

The first characteristic which the Lord requires of his servant is fidelity. He has been entrusted with a great good that does not belong to him. The Church is not our Church but his Church, the Church of God. The servant must account for how he has managed the good that has been entrusted to him. We do not bind people to us; we do not seek power, prestige or esteem for ourselves. We lead men and women toward Jesus Christ, hence toward the living God. In so doing, we introduce them into truth and into freedom, which derives from truth. Fidelity is altruism and, in this very way, liberating for the minister himself and for all who are entrusted to him. We know how in civil society and often also in the Church things suffer because many people on whom responsibility has been conferred work for themselves rather than for the community, for the common good. With a few strokes the Lord sketches an image of the wicked servant, who begins by grovelling and beating the workers, thereby betraying the essence of his responsibility. In Greek, the word for "fidelity" coincides with the word for "faith". The fidelity of the servant of Jesus Christ also consists precisely in the fact that he does not attempt to adapt faith to the fashions of the times. Christ alone has the words of eternal life and we must bring these words to the people. They are the most precious good that has been entrusted to us. There is nothing sterile or static about such fidelity; it is creative. The master rebuked the servant who, attempting to avoid all risk, had buried the money given to him in the ground. With this apparent fidelity, the servant had in reality set aside the good of his master to dedicate himself exclusively to his own affairs. Fidelity is not fear but rather is inspired by love and by its dynamism. The master praises the servant who has invested his goods profitably. Faith demands to be passed on: it was not given to us merely for ourselves, for the personal salvation of our own souls, but for others, for this world and for our time. We must bring faith into this world so that it may become in it a living force; in order to increase God's presence in the world.

[Pope Benedict, homily for episcopal ordination 12 September 2009]

3. “… even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve” (Mt 20:28).

In truth, Jesus is the perfect model of the “servant” of whom Scripture speaks. He is the one who radically emptied himself to take on “the form of a servant” (Phil 2:7) and to dedicate himself totally to the things of the Father (cf. Lk 2:49), as the beloved Son in whom the Father is well pleased (cf. Mt 17:5). Jesus did not come to be served, “but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mt 20:28). He washed the feet of his disciples and obeyed the plan of the Father even unto death, death on a cross (cf. Phil 2:8). Therefore, the Father himself has exalted him, giving him a new name and making him Lord of heaven and of earth (cf. Phil 2:9-11).

How can one not read in the story of the “servant Jesus” the story of every vocation: the story that the Creator has planned for every human being, the story that inevitably passes through the call to serve and culminates in the discovery of the new name, designed by God for each individual? In these “names”, people can grasp their own identity, directing themselves to that self-fulfilment which makes them free and happy. In particular, how can one not read in the parable of the Son, Servant and Lord, the vocational story of the person who is called by Jesus to follow him more closely: that is, to be a servant in the priestly ministry or in religious consecration? In fact, the priestly vocation or the religious vocation are always, by their very nature, vocations to the generous service of God and of neighbour.

Service thus becomes both the path and the valuable means for arriving at a better understanding of one’s own vocation. Diakonia is a true vocational pastoral journey (cf. New Vocations for a New Europe, 27c).

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the XL World Day for Vocations, 11 May 2003]

In the text of today’s Gospel (Lk 12:32-48), Jesus speaks to his disciples about the attitude to assume in view of the final encounter with him, and explains that the expectation of this encounter should impel us to live a life full of good works. Among other things he says: “Sell your possessions, and give alms; provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys” (v. 33). It is a call to give importance to almsgiving as a work of mercy, not to place trust in ephemeral goods, to use things without attachment and selfishness, but according to God’s logic, the logic of attention to others, the logic of love. We can be so attached to money, and have many things, but in the end we cannot take them with us. Remember that “the shroud has no pockets”.

Jesus’ lesson continues with three short parables on the theme of vigilance. This is important: vigilance, being alert, being vigilant in life. The first is the parable of the servants waiting for their master to return at night. “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes” (v. 37): it is the beatitude of faithfully awaiting the Lord, of being ready, with an attitude of service. He presents himself each day, knocks at the door of our heart. Those who open it will be blessed, because they will have a great reward: indeed, the Lord will make himself a servant to his servants — it is a beautiful reward — in the great banquet of his Kingdom He himself will serve them. With this parable, set at night, Jesus proposes life as a vigil of diligent expectation, which heralds the bright day of eternity. To be able to enter one must be ready, awake and committed to serving others, from the comforting perspective that, “beyond”, it will no longer be we who serve God, but He himself who will welcome us to his table. If you think about it, this already happens today each time we meet the Lord in prayer, or in serving the poor, and above all in the Eucharist, where he prepares a banquet to nourish us of his Word and of his Body.

The second parable describes the unexpected arrival of the thief. This fact requires vigilance; indeed, Jesus exhorts: “You also must be ready; for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (v. 40).

The disciple is one who awaits the Lord and his Kingdom. The Gospel clarifies this perspective with the third parable: the steward of a house after the master’s departure. In the first scene, the steward faithfully carries out his tasks and receives compensation. In the second scene, the steward abuses his authority, and beats the servants, for which, upon the master’s unexpected return, he will be punished. This scene describes a situation that is also frequent in our time: so much daily injustice, violence and cruelty are born from the idea of behaving as masters of the lives of others. We have only one master who likes to be called not “master” but “Father”. We are all servants, sinners and children: He is the one Father.

Jesus reminds us today that the expectation of the eternal beatitude does not relieve us of the duty to render the world more just and more liveable. On the contrary, this very hope of ours of possessing the eternal Kingdom impels us to work to improve the conditions of earthly life, especially of our weakest brothers and sisters. May the Virgin Mary help us not to be people and communities dulled by the present, or worse, nostalgic for the past, but striving toward the future of God, toward the encounter with him, our life and our hope.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 7 August 2016]

Lamps lit, start now

(Lk 12:35-38)

In order to make it clear what it means to be prepared to leave immediately, Jesus urges our readiness to notice, our ability to perceive.

He does not extinguish the aptitude for unprecedented judgement, and gains amazement.

Because the roles are suddenly reversed - so one has to be open to trust: the seemingly small becomes suddenly “big”.

Old religion drags the problems, and makes one sick, inculcating the spirit of submission and toil, for wages. And the slave remains a slave.

Servant and master are conversely in a reciprocal relationship and incessantly reverse roles.

As Lk says, the Lord himself “will gird himself and make them lie [the position of the lords of the time at solemn banquets] and pass by serving them” as if he were a “deacon” (v.37 Greek text).

This activates a total vigilance, ready to move the whole person, the territories (Fratelli Tutti, n.1: «beyond the place of the world»), the hierarchies.

He who felt “employee” becomes “manager” and protagonist: he acquires an attitude to fullness.

In the Kingdom of God, forms of life change.

In religions without the step of Faith - vice versa - nomenclatures consolidate.

In the Church there is no hoarding up, because our hearts do not live on worldliness and competition: goods are transformed into relationships and possibilities for encounter.

Christ has shown the Way to true enrichment. Thus he has transformed us into perhaps restless, but brisk beings.

We cannot even rest quietly: we have a step that flies by.

Indeed, it seems very strange that this Master does not arrive at the appointed time. Instead, Christ wants to be reinterpreted.

This condition is a source of growth for us: it accentuates our vigilance over events, the folds of history; over the meaning of encounters, the motions of the soul; and so on.

Thus, life in the Spirit challenges and enriches the exuberant side of the personality, accentuating the most singular opportunities for the unprecedented.

The «butler» placed at the service of the House of God and the brethren has the role of helping dynamic discernment, and the task of supporting it.

His service on behalf of others will be all-rounded, so that each one may correspond to the Call and proceed on his or her own feet.

'Blessed' then shall we be (v.38) without condition, but with the belt at our sides, that is, with the attitude of one who leaves a land of bondage.

«This was well known to the primitive Christian community, which considered itself "alien" here below and called its populated nucleuses in the cities "parishes", which means, precisely, colonies of foreigners [in Greek, pároikoi] (cf. I Pt 2: 11). In this way, the first Christians expressed the most important characteristic of the Church, which is precisely the tension of living in this life in light of Heaven» [Pope Benedict, Angelus August 12, 2007]

[Tuesday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 21, 2025]