(Jn 5:17-30)

The centre of the Jewish hope was the return to ancient times, which, however, was transferred to an indeterminate future ["last day"].

According to the Master, life as saved begins now, and from listening to his specific Word-Person (v.24) that supersedes every code.

He ascribes to himself a total (even legal) character. It replaces the sphere once believed to be the prerogative of God alone: "He has given all judgment to the Son" (v.22).

Faced with the resounding of the present Logos and the efficacious and life-giving Dream of the Father, death loses all destructive efficacy.

The aspect of human and operative reality prevails over what to religions seemed to be reserved for the God of Heaven alone, and projected into a perfect future.

The Memorial is now. To remake the triumph - through Golgotha, here.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxi): "From ancient times until now, his Name does not pass away, and so he consents to all beginnings. From what do I know the manner of all beginnings? From this'.

Jesus expresses the intimate immanence with the Father by expanding his creative work, which is by no means finished: he continues to enliven us. He sustains the universe and our being, so he is always active.

It is impossible to confuse the scope of unceasing life with observances.

It would be difficult to call God by the term Father [Abba, papa] if He conveyed to us a desire to be and to do, only with detachment.

In fact, the healing of the paralytic (vv.1-16) has existential traits that pass in divine character; it is not comparable to the results of a doctor's activity, but to the work of the Spirit in us.

The time of man's diminishment before the Most High is over: his design is not for distress, but for growth - which authentically manifests the Judgement of the Eternal.

A judgement not of the preservation of order, but of love and regeneration: a human imprint in transmitting to us the divine condition [(v.18); cf. commentary on Jn 10:31-42: You make yourself God, you are Gods] in fullness of being and freedom, in the intimate experience of his Heart.

Here and now; not on the other side of time - so there is no inclination to the quiet slumber of conscience.

Indulgent yes, but because of the falls in the risk - of witnessing at least a crumb of his image within, without the lowest denominator.

In the encounter with the Person of Jesus, we become aware of his resurrection power: devoid of partiality, consistent and objective on the terrain of both life and death, remission, and judgement.

Unceasingly we assimilate his thoughts, impulses, words, actions, charged events: everything becomes a young experience of God revealing himself.

The Father always works, the Son - his first and unceasing imprint - imitates his quality of action in continuity.

It is a concrete covenant for the people: his all-embracing Council truly comes to us.

To this end, he is not afraid to transgress an approximate and narrow precept, an idol of the sacred, albeit devout, ancient tradition.

After all, even in the Sabbath rest the Creator blesses and consecrates (Gen 2:3).

Father and Son are not custodians of tranquillitas ordinis, nor do they induce a drowsiness of conscience.

The whole of manifold history is in a kind of unity principle: time of intervention for salvation, and relationship to the Mystery.

Wherever we proceed, he who reflects God does not stun with prejudices about human reality: instead, he is already there and remains to the bitter end.

Sons in the "Son of Man" (v.27) - to dialogue, to open, to support, to give refreshment, to make every situation intense and delicate.

To honour the Most High is to honour humanity in need of everything, at all times.

Only this manifests him, even in the infractions - a land rich in new springs that shorten distances.

This is the reciprocal and singular Work of God (Jn 6:29): to love, not "works" (v.28) burdensome with law and nomenclature.

To internalise and live the message:

How to be the face of the Father, creator of life, friend and brother, who raises up?

How to recognise the new Covenant and correspond to it? What does it mean for you to believe in the victory of life over death?

You make yourself God

(Jn 10:31-42)

In Jn the term Jews indicates not the people, but the spiritual leaders. A blasphemous Jesus claims mutual immanence with the Father, and dares to expand to us the boundaries of the Mystery that envelops and fills him.

But the divine condition manifested in its human fullness is rejected by the religious leaders precisely in the name of adherence to the Eternal.

The authorities reject the Son in the name of the Eternal and fidelity to the traditional idea, to the irreducible image of the victorious God (from which springs a certain type of competitive society, ruthless even in spiritual life).

According to Jesus, the Father is not revealed by reasoning and cerebral arguments, but by the indestructible quality of 'beautiful' works (vv.32-33). 

The Greek term stands for the sense of fullness and wonder - truth, goodness, fascination, amazement - that emanates from the one action required in any work (major or minor): the love that resurrects the needy.

And Scripture recognises in each of us this sacred spark, which gives all happenings and emotions the step of Vertigo that surpasses the things around us, or how they 'should' be done.

Of course, to support us we need a Face, a relationship and a close kinship to identify what moves us, to peer inside what appears or is aroused.

The Unity of natures - He in us and we with the Father - corresponds to us in the Face of Christ, and is made manifest in listening, welcoming, not rushing to condemn, but making the weak strong.

The symbiosis with God in our activities, with our way of proposing or reacting, throughout our lives, unfolds in each Son His Likeness, even in difficult circumstances.

Everything that happens, even persecutions and assassination attempts due to misunderstanding or spiritual envy, can be looked at from a different perspective.

They are events, external happenings that activate overall energies: they become cosmic outside and acutely divine within us.

Rather than dangers and annoyances, they trace an Exodus destiny - like a river that carries, but in Christ escapes us from the hands of a deadly stasis (v.39), and admirably resonates with the forces that lead to the peripheries - where we must go.

From Son of David to Son of Man

The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces the whole of humanity in his mission of salvation. While Jesus' mission in his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Mt 15:24), it was nevertheless oriented from the beginning to bring the light of the Gospel to all peoples and to bring all nations into the Kingdom of God. Confronted with the faith of the Centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: "Now I tell you that many will come from the east and the west and sit down at table with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 8:11). This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from the presentation Jesus made of himself not only as "Son of David", but as "son of man" (Mk 10:33), as we also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title "Son of Man", in the language of the Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), recalls the person who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds an entirely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to Himself to manifest the true character of His messianism, as a mission destined for the whole man and every man, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters into this new kingdom, which the Church announces and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

[Pope Benedict, address to the Consistory 24 November 2012].

44. To protest against God in the name of justice is not helpful. A world without God is a world without hope (cf. Eph 2:12). Only God can create justice. And faith gives us the certainty that he does so. The image of the Last Judgement is not primarily an image of terror, but an image of hope; for us it may even be the decisive image of hope. Is it not also a frightening image? I would say: it is an image that evokes responsibility, an image, therefore, of that fear of which Saint Hilary spoke when he said that all our fear has its place in love. God is justice and creates justice. This is our consolation and our hope. And in his justice there is also grace. This we know by turning our gaze to the crucified and risen Christ. Both these things—justice and grace—must be seen in their correct inner relationship. Grace does not cancel out justice. It does not make wrong into right. It is not a sponge which wipes everything away, so that whatever someone has done on earth ends up being of equal value. Dostoevsky, for example, was right to protest against this kind of Heaven and this kind of grace in his novel The Brothers Karamazov. Evildoers, in the end, do not sit at table at the eternal banquet beside their victims without distinction, as though nothing had happened. Here I would like to quote a passage from Plato which expresses a premonition of just judgement that in many respects remains true and salutary for Christians too. Albeit using mythological images, he expresses the truth with an unambiguous clarity, saying that in the end souls will stand naked before the judge. It no longer matters what they once were in history, but only what they are in truth: “Often, when it is the king or some other monarch or potentate that he (the judge) has to deal with, he finds that there is no soundness in the soul whatever; he finds it scourged and scarred by the various acts of perjury and wrong-doing ...; it is twisted and warped by lies and vanity, and nothing is straight because truth has had no part in its development. Power, luxury, pride, and debauchery have left it so full of disproportion and ugliness that when he has inspected it (he) sends it straight to prison, where on its arrival it will undergo the appropriate punishment ... Sometimes, though, the eye of the judge lights on a different soul which has lived in purity and truth ... then he is struck with admiration and sends him to the isles of the blessed”. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (cf. Lk 16:19-31), Jesus admonishes us through the image of a soul destroyed by arrogance and opulence, who has created an impassable chasm between himself and the poor man; the chasm of being trapped within material pleasures; the chasm of forgetting the other, of incapacity to love, which then becomes a burning and unquenchable thirst. We must note that in this parable Jesus is not referring to the final destiny after the Last Judgement, but is taking up a notion found, inter alia, in early Judaism, namely that of an intermediate state between death and resurrection, a state in which the final sentence is yet to be pronounced.

47. Some recent theologians are of the opinion that the fire which both burns and saves is Christ himself, the Judge and Saviour. The encounter with him is the decisive act of judgement. Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives become evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire”. But it is a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally ourselves and thus totally of God. In this way the inter-relation between justice and grace also becomes clear: the way we live our lives is not immaterial, but our defilement does not stain us for ever if we have at least continued to reach out towards Christ, towards truth and towards love. Indeed, it has already been burned away through Christ's Passion. At the moment of judgement we experience and we absorb the overwhelming power of his love over all the evil in the world and in ourselves. The pain of love becomes our salvation and our joy. It is clear that we cannot calculate the “duration” of this transforming burning in terms of the chronological measurements of this world. The transforming “moment” of this encounter eludes earthly time-reckoning—it is the heart's time, it is the time of “passage” to communion with God in the Body of Christ. The judgement of God is hope, both because it is justice and because it is grace. If it were merely grace, making all earthly things cease to matter, God would still owe us an answer to the question about justice—the crucial question that we ask of history and of God. If it were merely justice, in the end it could bring only fear to us all. The incarnation of God in Christ has so closely linked the two together—judgement and grace—that justice is firmly established: we all work out our salvation “with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). Nevertheless grace allows us all to hope, and to go trustfully to meet the Judge whom we know as our “advocate”, or parakletos (cf. 1 Jn 2:1).

[Spe salvi]

1. "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Eph 1:3). Paul's words are a good introduction to the newness of our knowledge of the Father as it unfolds in the New Testament. Here God appears in his Trinitarian reality. His fatherhood is no longer limited to showing his relationship with creatures, but expresses the fundamental relationship which characterizes his inner life; it is no longer a generic feature of God, but the property of the First Person in God. In his Trinitarian mystery, in fact, God is a father in his very being; he is always a father since from all eternity he generates the Word who is consubstantial with him and united to him in the Holy Spirit "who proceeds from the Father and the Son". In his redemptive Incarnation, the Word unites himself with us, precisely in order to bring us into this filial life which he possesses from all eternity. The Evangelist John says: "To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God" (Jn 1:12).

2. Jesus' experience is the basis for this specific revelation of the Father. It is clear from his words and attitudes that he experiences his relationship with the Father in a wholly unique way. In the Gospels we can see how Jesus distinguished "his sonship from that of his disciples by never saying "Our Father", except to command them: "You, then, pray like this: "Our Father"" (Mt 6:9); and he emphasized this distinction saying, "my Father and your Father"" (CCC, n. 443).

Even as a boy he answered Mary and Joseph, who had been looking for him anxiously: "Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Lk 2:48f.). To the Jews who had been persecuting him because he had worked a miraculous cure on the Sabbath he replied: "My Father is working still, and I am working" (Jn 5:17). On the cross he prayed to the Father to forgive his executioners and to receive his spirit (Lk 23:34, 46). The distinction between the way Jesus perceives God's fatherhood in relation to himself and in relation to all other human beings is rooted in his consciousness and emphasized by him in the words he addresses to Mary Magdalen after the Resurrection: "Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God" (Jn 20:17).

3. Jesus' relationship with the Father is unique. He knows he is always heard; he knows that through him the Father reveals his glory, even when men may doubt it and need to be convinced by him. We see all this in the episode of the raising of Lazarus: "So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, "Father I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you hear me always, but I have said this on account of the people standing by, that they may believe that you sent me"" (Jn 11:41f.). Because of this unique understanding, Jesus can present himself as the One who reveals the Father with a knowledge that is the fruit of an intimate and mysterious reciprocity, as he emphasizes in his joyful hymn: "All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him" (Mt 11:27) (cf. CCC, n. 240). For his part, the Father expresses the Son's unique relationship with him by calling him his "beloved" son: as he did at the baptism in the Jordan (cf. Mk 1:11), and at the moment of the Transfiguration (cf. Mk 9:7). Jesus is also depicted as the son in a special sense in the parable of the wicked tenants who first mistreat the two servants and then the "beloved son" of the vineyard owner, sent to collect some of the fruit of the vineyard (Mk 12:1-11, especially v. 6).

4. The Gospel of Mark has preserved for us the Aramaic word "Abba" (cf. Mk 14:36) with which Jesus, during his painful hour in Gethsemane, called on God, praying to him to let the cup of the Passion pass him by. In the same episode Matthew's Gospel has given us the translation "my Father" (cf. Mt 26:39, cf. also v. 42), while Luke simply has "Father" (cf. Lk 22:42). The Aramaic word, which we can translate into contemporary language as "dad" or "daddy", expresses the affectionate tenderness of a child. Jesus uses it in an original way to address God and, in the full maturity of his life which is about to end on the cross, to indicate the close relationship which even at that critical moment binds him to his Father. "Abba" indicates the extraordinary closeness that exists between Jesus and God the Father, an intimacy unprecedented in the biblical or non-biblical religious context. Through the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, the only Son of this Father, we too, as St Paul said, are raised to the dignity of sons and have received the Holy Spirit who prompts us to cry "Abba! Father!" (cf. Rom 8:15; Gal 4:6). This simple, childish expression in daily use in Jesus' time and among all peoples thus acquired a highly significant doctrinal meaning to express the unique divine fatherhood in relation to Jesus and his disciples.

5. Although he felt united with the Father in so intimate a way, Jesus admitted that he did not know the hour of the final and decisive coming of the kingdom. "But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only" (Mt 24:36). This is an indication of the "emptying of himself" proper to the Incarnation, which conceals the eschatological end of the world from his human nature. In this way Jesus disappoints human calculations in order to invite us to be watchful and to trust in the Father's providential intervention. On the other hand, from the standpoint of the Gospels, the intimacy and absoluteness of his being "Son" is in no way prejudiced by this lack of knowledge. On the contrary, precisely because he is so united with us, he becomes crucial for us before the Father: "Every one who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven; but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 10:32f.)

Acknowledging Jesus before men is indispensable for being acknowledged by him before the Father. In other words, our filial relationship with the heavenly Father depends on our courageous fidelity to Jesus, his beloved Son.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 3 March 1999]

Through the Eucharistic celebration the Holy Spirit makes us participants in the divine life that is able to transfigure our whole mortal being. In his passage from death to life, from time to eternity, the Lord Jesus also draws us with him to experience the Passover. In the Mass we celebrate Passover. We, during Mass, are with Jesus, who died and is Risen, and he draws us forth to eternal life. In the Mass we unite with him. Rather, Christ lives in us and we live in him: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ”, Saint Paul states, “who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20). This is what Paul thought.

Indeed, his Blood frees us from death and from the fear of death. It frees us not only from the dominion of physical death, but from the spiritual death which is evil, sin, which catches us each time we fall victim to our own sin or that of others. Thus our life becomes polluted; it loses beauty; it loses meaning; it withers.

Instead, Christ restores our life; Christ is the fullness of life, and when he faced death he destroyed it forever: “By rising he destroyed death and restored life” (cf. Eucharistic Prayer iv). Christ’s Passover is the definitive victory over death, because he transformed his death in the supreme act of love. He died out of love! And in the Eucharist, he wishes to communicate this, his paschal, victorious love, to us. If we receive him with faith, we too can truly love God and neighbour; we can love as he loved us, by giving our life.

If Christ’s love is within me, I can give myself fully to others, in the interior certainty that even if the other were to wound me I would not die; otherwise I should defend myself. The martyrs gave their own lives in this certainty of Christ’s victory over death. Only if we experience this power of Christ, the power of his love, are we truly free to give ourselves without fear. This is the Mass: to enter this passion, death, resurrection, ascension of Jesus; when we go to Mass it is as if were going to Calvary itself. But consider: whether at the moment of Mass we go to Calvary — let us ponder this with the imagination — and we know that that man there is Jesus. But will we allow ourselves to chat, to take photographs, to put on a little show? No! Because it is Jesus! We certainly pause in silence, in sorrow and also in the joy of being saved. As we enter the church to celebrate Mass, let us think about this: I am going to Calvary, where Jesus gave his life for me. In this way the spectacle disappears; the small talk disappears; the comments and these things that distance us from something so beautiful as the Mass, Jesus’ triumph.

I think that it is clearer now how the Passover is made present and active each time we celebrate the Mass, which is the meaning of memorial. Taking part in the Eucharist enables us to enter the Paschal Mystery of Christ, giving ourselves to pass over with him from death to life, meaning there, on Calvary. The Mass is experiencing Calvary; it is not a spectacle.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 22 November 2017]

(Jn 5:1-3.5-16)

In the ‘devotion’ of competitive trophies, only the quickest heals, not the neediest.

Jesus prefers to transgress the law than to align himself with the merciless world that marginalizes the wretched.

In the holy places the cult of sacrifices required a lot of water [for the animals to be washed, then slaughtered], especially in the great feasts.

Large cisterns collected rainwater, and public baths agglomerated the sick waiting for help or recovery.

The pools outside were used to clean the lambs before the sacrifice to the Temple, and this old practise gave the water itself an aura of healing sanctity.

Many sick people flocked to bathe in the «motion of the water» [v.3: perhaps due to an intermittent source].

It was said that an angel stirred the waters of the popular baths and that the first person to enter them in the one moment the same waters became restless would be healed.

Symbol of a religion that offers false hopes to the excluded masses. 

Vain expectations attracted the imagination of the sick who didn’t know the man-God of their destiny.

«But he who had been healed did not know who He was, because Jesus had gone away, there being crowd in that place» (v.13).

The Face of the Son is unrecognisable in the masses pressing around, which is only distracting and content with habitual, exaggeratedly solemn forms.

Abundant conducts purified the Temple and neglected the people. The water flowed, but didn't cure anyone - on the contrary, it made the situation worse.

An icon of a rich and miserable religiosity: vain, useless, harmful; that abandons those it’s called upon to support.

Scribes taught the law to students in the sacred precincts, and the rabbis received clients under Solomon's porch: at the top the Torah and its trade, at the bottom and outside - close by - the treachery of the poor.

Official institution kept the unsteady at a safe distance, revealing only a ridiculous and brutal caricature of the Father's friendly, hospitable and sympathetic Face.

Crowd of the needy who were given ‘magic’ water [only randomly and by surprise] is a parable of destitute humanity, dramatically lacking everything - even genuine spiritual comfort.

On the other hand, Jesus approaches them on his own initiative (vv. 6.14).

And gets involved - at the risk of his life - with those who are most alone, awkward and clumsy; unables even to receive miracles.

We are ‘sent’ not to deserving and self-sufficient, but to those who aren’t able to use their ownn means to come forward.

Christ himself does not work in order to be recognized and acclaimed: «He had gone away» (v,13). Nor does He care for us, only to trigger a religious conversion.

He heals by perceiving the need, not so that the sick person ‘believes in God’.

We leave people free to go through their seasons, not stereotypes.

We enter the heart of Lent.

[Tuesday 4th wk. in Lent, April 1st, 2025]

(Jn 5:1-3.5-16)

"On the other hand, he performs several gestures on him: first of all he led him away from the crowd. On this occasion, as on others, Jesus always acts with discretion. He does not want to impress people, He is not seeking popularity or success, but only wishes to do good to people. With this attitude, He teaches us that good is to be done without clamour, without ostentation, without "blowing the trumpet". It must be done in silence.

[...] The healing was for him an 'opening' to others and to the world.

This Gospel story emphasises the need for a twofold healing. First, healing from sickness and physical suffering, to restore the health of the body; even if this goal is not completely attainable on the earthly horizon, despite so many efforts of science and medicine. But there is a second healing, perhaps more difficult, and that is healing from fear. Healing from the fear that drives us to marginalise the sick, to marginalise the suffering, the disabled. And there are many ways of marginalising, even with a pseudo-pity or with the removal of the problem; we remain deaf and dumb in the face of the pain of people marked by illness, anguish and difficulty. Too many times the sick and the suffering become a problem, while they should be an opportunity to manifest the solicitude and solidarity of a society towards the weakest".

[Pope Francis, Angelus 9 September 2018].

Jesus would rather transgress the law than align himself with the ruthless world and the inviolable society outside, which marginalises the unfortunate.

In the religion of competitive trophies, of real abandonments and false or trivial hopes, someone by lottery is healed, everyone else is not. Only the quickest heals, not the neediest.

In any case, the vast majority stand by, paralysed by loneliness - conversely, those afflicted ask for life, refreshment; the bubbling song of an authentically sacred story.

At that time, in the 'holy' places, the cult of sacrifices demanded a lot of water [for the animals to be washed, then slaughtered and butchered] especially on the great feasts.

Large cisterns collected rainwater, and public baths (to the north) agglomerated the sick awaiting help or recovery from the very isolation to which they were condemned - according to purity rules.

Pools outside were used to bathe lambs before sacrifice at the Temple, and this method of use gave the water itself an aura of healing sanctity.

Many sick people flocked to bathe in the 'motion of the water' (v.3).

It was said that an angel stirred the waters of the popular baths [perhaps for an intermittent spring] and that the first person to enter them in the one moment they became restless would be cured.

A symbol of a religion that holds out bogus hopes to the shaky, which also attract the imagination of the excluded masses, harassed by calamities - who do not know the man-God of their destiny.

"But he who was healed did not know who he was, because Jesus had gone away, there being a crowd in that place" (v.13).

The Face of the Son is unrecognisable in the throng around, despite the plethora of impeccable guides and devotees - who are only distracting, and content with the customary forms of organisation, exaggeratedly solemn.

Abundant conduct purified the Temple and neglected the people.

An icon of a rich and miserable religiosity: vain, useless, harmful; which abandons to itself those it is called upon to support.

The scribes taught the law to students in the sacred precincts and the rabbis received clients under Solomon's porch, on the Temple esplanade, to the east.

Above the Torah and its trade; below and outside - nearby - the treachery of the poor.

The water flowed into the Temple, but it did not cleanse anyone - on the contrary, it made things worse.

This persisted for an entire era - a "generation" (v.5). Symbology of the 38 years (Deut 2:14) that precisely lacked a welcoming mentality.

The official religious institution kept the crowd at a safe distance, revealing only a ridiculous and brutal caricature of the friendly, hospitable and sharing Face of the Father.

The crowd of needy who were only randomly and surprisingly given magic water is precisely a parable of destitute humanity, dramatically lacking everything - even genuine spiritual comfort.

Jesus, on the other hand, approaches the needy on his own initiative (vv.6.14) and involves himself - at the risk of his life - with those who are most lonely, awkward and clumsy.

He in us: welcoming faces and active presence of the Father, instinctively approaching not the people who matter, but the neglected, the sick - unable even to receive miracles.

We are sent not to the worthy and self-sufficient, but precisely to those unable to use their own means to come forward. 

Those who wobble - and on this there is no need for imprimatur: such a rule is of divine right.

No joy from the authorities - only enquiries.

No matter: no reverential fear. God is not eager to be obeyed; rather, to fulfil us.

Christ himself does not work in order to be recognised and acclaimed ['he had turned away']. Nor does he care for us, only to trigger a religious conversion.

He heals by perceiving the need, not so that the sick person believes in God.

The Tao Tê Ching [x] says: "Let creatures live and feed them, let them live and not keep them as your own". "To speak much and scrutinise rationally is worth less than to keep empty" (v).

Let people be free to go through their seasons, not stereotype them.

Only, let us help open doors that are more genuine and commensurate with the personal journey, even if it is unplanned or uncontrolled.

We are challenged and sent to accompany each one in the unprecedented, all original - guiding not to an already drafted sacredness, but to the plasticity of healthy awareness.

Let us enter the heart of Lent.

To internalise and live the message:

How is it that you live in the Christian community and this Gospel surprises you?

Have you been without help for a long time? Does the Eucharist make you "someone for everyone" and spend yourself, or do you fall back into vain devotions?

Specialists in closure. Psychology of doctors of the law

Lent is a propitious time to ask the Lord, "for each one of us and for the whole Church", for "conversion to the mercy of Jesus". Too often, in fact, Christians "are specialists in closing doors to people" who, weakened by life and their mistakes, would instead be willing to start again, "people to whom the Holy Spirit moves the heart to move forward".

The law of love is at the heart of Pope Francis' reflection on the liturgy of the day at Mass on Tuesday 17 March at Santa Marta. A word of God that starts from an image: "the water that heals". In the first reading, the prophet Ezekiel (47:1-9.12) in fact speaks of the water that flows from the temple, 'a blessed water, the water of God, abundant as the grace of God: abundant always'. The Lord, in fact, the Pope explained, is generous 'in giving his love, in healing our wounds'.

Water returns in John's Gospel (5:1-16) where it tells of a pool - "in Hebrew it was called betzaetà" - characterised by "five porticoes, under which lay a great number of the sick: blind, lame and paralytic". In that place, in fact, "there was a tradition" according to which "from time to time, an angel came down from heaven" to move the waters, and the sick "who threw themselves there" at that moment "were healed".

Therefore, the Pontiff explained, "there were many people". And therefore there was also "a man who had been sick for thirty-eight years". He was there waiting, and to him Jesus asked, 'Do you want to be healed?' The sick man answered, "But, Lord, I have no one to immerse me in the pool when the water is stirring, when the angel comes. For as I am about to go there, another descends before me". Jesus, that is, is presented with "a defeated man" who "had lost hope". Sick, but - Francis emphasised - "not only paralytic": he was in fact sick with "another very bad disease", acedia.

"It was acedia that made him sad, lazy," he noted. Another person would in fact have 'sought the way to get there in time, like that blind man in Jericho who cried out, cried out, and they wanted to silence him and he cried out more: he found the way'. But he, prostrated by illness for thirty-eight years, "had no desire to heal himself", he had "no strength". At the same time, he had 'bitterness in his soul: "But the other comes before me and I am left behind"'. And he also had "some resentment". She was "truly a sad, defeated soul, defeated by life".

"Jesus has mercy" on this man and invites him, "Get up! Get up, let's finish this story; take your stretcher and walk". Francis then described the following scene: 'Instantly the man was healed and took his stretcher and began to walk, but he was so sick that he could not believe and perhaps walked a little doubtfully with his stretcher on his shoulders'. At this point other characters come into play: "It was the Sabbath and what did the man find? The doctors of the law', who ask him: 'But why do you bring this? You can't, today is the Sabbath". It is the man who replies: "But you know, I have been healed!". He adds: "And the one who healed me said to me, 'bring your stretcher'".

A strange thing then happens: "these people instead of rejoicing, of saying: 'How nice! Congratulations!", they ask: "But who is this man?". The doctors, that is, begin "an investigation" and discuss, "Let us see what has happened here, but the law.... We must keep the law'. The man, for his part, continues to walk with his stretcher, "but a little sad". The Pope commented: 'I am bad, but sometimes I think about what would have happened if this man had given a big cheque to those doctors. They would have said: 'But, go ahead, yes, this time go ahead!'".

Continuing in the Gospel reading, one encounters Jesus who "finds this man one more time and says to him, 'Behold, you are healed, but do not go back - that is, do not sin any more - lest something worse happen to you. Go on, keep going'". And the man goes to the doctors of the law, to say, "The person, the man who healed me is called Jesus. That's the one." And we read: 'This is why the Jews persecuted Jesus, because he did such things on the Sabbath'. Again Francis commented: 'Because he also did good things on the Sabbath, and it could not be done'.

This story, the Pope said, bringing his reflection up to date, "happens many times in life: a man - a woman - who feels sick in his soul, sad, who has made so many mistakes in life, at a certain moment he feels the waters move, there is the Holy Spirit moving something; or he hears a word". And he reacts: "I would like to go!". So he "takes courage and goes". But that man "how many times today in Christian communities he finds the doors closed". Perhaps he hears himself saying: 'You can't, no, you can't; you are wrong here and you can't. If you want to come, come to mass on Sunday, but stay there, but do no more'. So it happens that 'what the Holy Spirit does in people's hearts, Christians with a psychology of doctors of the law destroy'.

The Pontiff said he was sorry for this, because, he emphasised, the Church 'is the house of Jesus and Jesus welcomes, but not only welcomes: he goes to visit people', just as 'he went to visit' that man. "And if people are hurt," he wondered, "what does Jesus do? Does he rebuke them, because they are hurt? No, he comes and carries her on his shoulders". This, the Pope stated, 'is called mercy'. This is precisely what God is talking about when he 'rebukes his people: "Mercy I want, not sacrifice!"'.

As usual, the Pontiff concluded his reflection by suggesting a commitment for daily life: 'We are in Lent, we must convert'. Someone, he said, might admit: 'Father, there are so many sinners on the road: those who steal, those who are in the Roma camps...'. - to say one thing - and we despise these people'. But to him it must be said: 'And you? Who are you? And who are you, that you close the door of your heart to a man, to a woman, who wants to improve, to re-enter the people of God, because the Holy Spirit has stirred her heart?" Even today there are Christians who behave like the doctors of the law and "do the same as they did with Jesus", objecting: "But this, this says heresy, this cannot be done, this goes against the discipline of the Church, this goes against the law". And so they close the doors to many people. Therefore, the Pope concluded, "let us ask the Lord today" for "conversion to the mercy of Jesus": only then "will the law be fully fulfilled, because the law is to love God and our neighbour, as ourselves".

(Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 18/03/2015)

[Different opinion].

In all the Gospel commentaries that I know of, this episode of the pool of Bethsaida (John 5:1-16) is a symbol of the PERSEVERANCE of this poor man who remains there, at the edge of the water for thirty-eight years in the hope of being healed, without ever leaving it.

It is also a symbol of the patience we must have with ourselves in our inner struggle against prevailing faults.

One author, referring to this passage from the Gospel, explained that the Lord can ask us even thirty-eight years to grow in a virtue by being patient with our faults.

If the paralytic had been a lazy indolent complainer (and a bit of a hypochondriac, we seem to understand...), the Lord would not have helped him.

The man protagonist of today's Gospel PERSEVERED thirty-eight years, he did not FEAR ACCIDENT for thirty-eight years.

Not only that, he would have remained there until the end of his days, had he not had the reward of meeting Jesus, precisely because of his constancy.

Again, this episode explains the importance of evangelisation (proselytism for Pope Bergoglio).

In fact, this Gospel passage has always been used to explain that no one should confess 'Lord I have none', since the Gospel passage refers to - and must be interpreted as referring to - the sick in spirit.

The expression of the paralytic "HOMINEM NON HABEO" ("I have no man") has become, or perhaps always has been over the centuries, in every Gospel commentary, the meaning of SPIRITUAL INDIFFERENCE towards one's neighbour in need in the soul.

It means that everyone has been indifferent to the needs of his soul, except the Saviour.

(https://www.marcotosatti.com/2020/03/25/ics-al-papa-il-paralitico-a-betsaida-non-era-pigro-ipocondriaco/)

39. To suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves—these are fundamental elements of humanity, and to abandon them would destroy man himself. Yet once again the question arises: are we capable of this? Is the other important enough to warrant my becoming, on his account, a person who suffers? Does truth matter to me enough to make suffering worthwhile? Is the promise of love so great that it justifies the gift of myself? In the history of humanity, it was the Christian faith that had the particular merit of bringing forth within man a new and deeper capacity for these kinds of suffering that are decisive for his humanity. The Christian faith has shown us that truth, justice and love are not simply ideals, but enormously weighty realities. It has shown us that God —Truth and Love in person—desired to suffer for us and with us. Bernard of Clairvaux coined the marvellous expression: Impassibilis est Deus, sed non incompassibilis—God cannot suffer, but he can suffer with. Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man in an utterly real way—in flesh and blood—as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus's Passion. Hence in all human suffering we are joined by one who experiences and carries that suffering with us; hence con-solatio is present in all suffering, the consolation of God's compassionate love—and so the star of hope rises. Certainly, in our many different sufferings and trials we always need the lesser and greater hopes too—a kind visit, the healing of internal and external wounds, a favourable resolution of a crisis, and so on. In our lesser trials these kinds of hope may even be sufficient. But in truly great trials, where I must make a definitive decision to place the truth before my own welfare, career and possessions, I need the certitude of that true, great hope of which we have spoken here. For this too we need witnesses—martyrs—who have given themselves totally, so as to show us the way—day after day. We need them if we are to prefer goodness to comfort, even in the little choices we face each day—knowing that this is how we live life to the full. Let us say it once again: the capacity to suffer for the sake of the truth is the measure of humanity. Yet this capacity to suffer depends on the type and extent of the hope that we bear within us and build upon. The saints were able to make the great journey of human existence in the way that Christ had done before them, because they were brimming with great hope.

[Spe salvi]

1. A text by Saint Augustine offers us the key to interpreting Christ's miracles as signs of his saving power: "The fact that he became man for us has been of much greater benefit to our salvation than the miracles he performed among us; and it is more important than the fact that he healed the diseases of the body destined to die" (S. Augustini, In Io. Ev. Tr., 17, 1). In order to this health of the soul and the redemption of the whole world, Jesus also performed miracles of a corporal order. And so the theme of this catechesis is as follows: through the "miracles, wonders and signs" that he performed, Jesus Christ manifested his power to save man from the evil that threatens the immortal soul and his vocation to union with God.

9. At the end of our catechesis, we return once again to the text of St Augustine: "If we now consider the deeds wrought by our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, we see that the eyes of the blind, miraculously opened, were shut by death, and the limbs of the paralytic, loosed by the miracle, were again immobilised by death: all that was temporally healed in the mortal body, was in the end undone; but the soul that believed, passed into eternal life. With this sick man the Lord wished to give a great sign to the soul that would believe, for whose remission of sins he had come, and to heal whose weaknesses he had humbled himself" (S. Augustini, In Io. Ev. Tr., 17, 1).

Yes, all of Christ's "miracles, wonders and signs" are in function of the revelation of him as the Messiah, of him as the Son of God: of him who alone has the power to deliver man from sin and death. Of him who truly is the Saviour of the world.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 11 November 1987]

Lent is a propitious time to ask the Lord, "for each one of us and for the whole Church", for "conversion to the mercy of Jesus". Too often, in fact, Christians "are specialists in closing doors to people" who, weakened by life and their mistakes, would instead be willing to start again, "people to whom the Holy Spirit moves the heart to move forward".

The law of love is at the heart of Pope Francis' reflection on the liturgy of the day at Mass on Tuesday 17 March at Santa Marta. A word of God that starts from an image: "the water that heals". In the first reading, the prophet Ezekiel (47:1-9.12) in fact speaks of the water that flows from the temple, 'a blessed water, the water of God, abundant as the grace of God: abundant always'. The Lord, in fact, the Pope explained, is generous 'in giving his love, in healing our wounds'.

Water returns in John's Gospel (5:1-16) where it tells of a pool - "in Hebrew it was called betzaetà" - characterised by "five porticoes, under which lay a great number of the sick: blind, lame and paralytic". In that place, in fact, "there was a tradition" according to which "from time to time, an angel came down from heaven" to move the waters, and the sick "who threw themselves there" at that moment "were healed".

Therefore, the Pontiff explained, "there were many people". And therefore there was also "a man who had been sick for thirty-eight years". He was there waiting, and to him Jesus asked, 'Do you want to be healed?' The sick man answered, "But, Lord, I have no one to immerse me in the pool when the water is stirring, when the angel comes. For as I am about to go there, another descends before me". Jesus, that is, is presented with 'a defeated man' who 'had lost hope'.

[...] he had "bitterness in his soul: 'But the other comes before me and I am left behind'". And he also had "some resentment". She was "truly a sad, defeated soul, defeated by life".

"Jesus has mercy" on this man and invites him, "Get up! Get up, let's finish this story; take your stretcher and walk". Francis then described the following scene: 'Instantly the man was healed and took his stretcher and began to walk, but he was so sick that he could not believe and perhaps walked a little doubtfully with his stretcher on his shoulders'. At this point other characters come into play: "It was the Sabbath and what did the man find? The doctors of the law', who ask him: 'But why do you bring this? You can't, today is the Sabbath". It is the man who replies: "But you know, I have been healed!". He adds: "And the one who healed me said to me, 'bring your stretcher'".

A strange thing then happens: "these people instead of rejoicing, of saying: 'How nice! Congratulations!", they ask: "But who is this man?". The doctors, that is, begin "an investigation" and discuss, "Let us see what has happened here, but the law.... We must keep the law'. The man, for his part, continues to walk with his stretcher, "but a little sad". The Pope commented: 'I am bad, but sometimes I think about what would have happened if this man had given a nice cheque to those doctors. They would have said: 'But, go ahead, yes, this time go ahead!'".

Continuing in the Gospel reading, one encounters Jesus who "finds this man one more time and says to him, 'Behold, you are healed, but do not go back - that is, do not sin any more - lest something worse happen to you. Go on, keep going'". And the man goes to the doctors of the law to say, "The person, the man who healed me is called Jesus. That's the one." And we read: 'This is why the Jews persecuted Jesus, because he did such things on the Sabbath'. Again Francis commented: 'Because he also did good things on the Sabbath, and it could not be done'.

This story, said the Pope, bringing his reflection up to date, "happens many times in life: a man - a woman - who feels sick in his soul, sad, who has made so many mistakes in life, at a certain moment he feels the waters move, there is the Holy Spirit moving something; or he hears a word". And he reacts: "I would like to go!". So he "takes courage and goes". But that man "how many times today in Christian communities he finds the doors closed". Perhaps he hears himself saying: 'You can't, no, you can't; you're wrong here and you can't. If you want to come, come to mass on Sunday, but stay there, but do no more'. So it happens that 'what the Holy Spirit does in people's hearts, Christians with a psychology of doctors of the law destroy'.

The Pontiff said he was sorry for this, because, he emphasised, the Church 'is the house of Jesus and Jesus welcomes, but not only welcomes: he goes to visit people', just as 'he went to visit' that man. "And if people are hurt," he wondered, "what does Jesus do? Does he rebuke them, because they are hurt? No, he comes and carries them on his shoulders'. This, said the Pope, "is called mercy". This is precisely what God is talking about when he "rebukes his people: "Mercy I want, not sacrifice!"".

As usual, the Pontiff concluded his reflection by suggesting a commitment for daily life: 'We are in Lent, we must convert'. Someone, he said, might admit: 'Father, there are so many sinners on the road: those who steal, those who are in the Roma camps...'. - to say one thing - and we despise these people'. But to him it must be said: 'And you? Who are you? And who are you, that you close the door of your heart to a man, to a woman, who wants to improve, to re-enter the people of God, because the Holy Spirit has stirred her heart?" Even today there are Christians who behave like the doctors of the law and "do the same as they did with Jesus", objecting: "But this, this says heresy, this cannot be done, this goes against the discipline of the Church, this goes against the law". And so they close the doors to many people. Therefore, the Pope concluded, "let us ask the Lord today" for "conversion to the mercy of Jesus": only then "will the law be fully fulfilled, because the law is to love God and our neighbour, as ourselves".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 18/03/2015]

«If you do not see signs and wonders, you do not believe»

(Jn 4:43-54)

Jesus takes the rhythm of the catechumen's interior journey (v.47) to introduce us in his Vision, which regenerates our flesh and puts us back to the Exodus (v.50) unleashesing a whole dynamism around (v.51).

On the Way, every creature is returned to itself and to the radical goodness of the original project - rediscovered first inside, then outside of itself.

Having Faith is leaving, and letting oneself be traumatized. «In fact, Jesus had testified that a prophet in his own country has no honor» (v.44).

After showing in the episode of the Samaritan woman (vv.1-42) the meaning of Christ as a new Temple for both Jews and "heretics", Jn illustrates its sense for the pagans.

As if the dimension of Resurrection [«after the two days»: v.43] moved the House of God to the whole world.

The fundamentalists of Judaism were forbidden to go through Samaria and stay with the Samaritans (cf. Jn 4:9) considered mestizos [theologically polygamous: Jn 4:17-18].

Jesus isn’t limited to his own lineage, and not even to his religion.

In Galilee the Lord receives a super-pagan, who begs for help because realizes that the world he comes from is unable to generate life (vv.46-47.49.53).

The banal auspices of cultural baggage block the freedom of thought from what isn’t yet foreseen, setting stereotypes.

The impregnated with idols no longer sees anything; he doesn’t even meet himself and his closests.

And experiences no unknown forces. At best, he believes in the pagan protector god, who works miracles according lottery.

Whoever adjusts himself with the naked eye... supposes to see the Lord who heals through extraordinary gestures [v. 48: «if you do not see signs and wonders, do not believe»].

The life-giving power of the Word escapes him: Logos that touches without being seen but makes Jesus Present in his work and in his incisive, effective entirety.

Christ is interested in making people understand how Faith “flows” in its pure quality: what dynamisms it activates - not the show of the spectacle-religion, all external.

The epidermal expressions close the crowd in intimism, or arouse interest in oddities that shake the senses, triggering a moment of enthusiasm, not the center of each person.

The newness of Christ isn’t transmitted by contact, but by fully welcoming his unexpected Word-event. It’s not subject to a locality principle or other ‘guarantee’.

The outward gaze is convinced by miracles, but doesn’t grasp the profound meaning of the Sign that speaks to us of the Son’s Person - the true ‘spectacle’. All yet to be tested.

The curious are waiting to see and notice. Thus they die of relative hopes, without ‘root’ in themselves.

Only in Faith does one discover what’s not yet seen with the naked eye, nor did we know it existed.

To internalize and live the message:

How does adherence to the Word of Christ help to overcome the banal desire for clamor or escape?

[Monday 4th wk. in Lent, March 31, 2025]