First Lent Sunday [22 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. I apologise if I dwell too long  today on the presentation of the texts, but it is central to Christian life to understand in depth the drama of Genesis (first reading), which St Paul takes up in the second reading, bringing it to full understanding. Similarly, the responsorial psalm can be understood starting from the drama recounted in Genesis chapter 3, and likewise the Gospel shows us how to react in order to live in the kingdom of God already on this earth. In my opinion, it is a vision of life that must be clearly focused in order to understand the drama of the practical and often unconscious rejection of God that is consummated in the world in the face of the crucial question: why is there evil in the world? Why does God not destroy it?  

 Have a good Lent.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (2:7-9; 3:1-7a)

In the first chapters of Genesis, two different figures of man appear: the first who lives happily in complete harmony with God and with woman. and creation (chap. 2), and then the man who claims his autonomy by taking for himself the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (chap. 3). Jesus sums up in himself 'all our weaknesses' (Heb 4:15), and, put to the test, he will be the sign of the new humanity: 'the last Adam became a life-giving spirit' (1 Cor 15:45).  Before tackling this text, we must remember that its author never claimed to be a historian. The Bible was written neither by scientists nor by historians, but by believers for believers. The theologian who wrote these lines, probably at the time of Solomon in the 10th century BC, seeks to answer the questions that everyone asks: why evil? Why death? Why misunderstandings between couples? Why is life so difficult? Why is work so tiring? Why is nature sometimes hostile? To answer these questions, he draws on a certainty shared by his entire people: the goodness of God. God freed us from Egypt; God wants us to be free and happy. Since the famous exodus from Egypt, led by Moses, and the crossing of the desert, during which God's presence and support were experienced at every new difficulty, there can be no doubt about this. The story we have just read is therefore based on this certainty of God's benevolence and seeks to answer all our questions about evil in the world. With a good and benevolent God, how is it possible that evil exists? Our author has invented a parable to enlighten us: a garden of delights (this is the meaning of the word 'Eden') and humanity represented by a couple charged with cultivating and caring for the garden. The garden is full of trees, each more attractive than the next. The one in the middle is called the 'tree of life'; its fruit can be eaten like all the others. But somewhere in the garden – the text does not specify where – there is another tree, whose fruit is forbidden. It is called the 'tree of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Faced with this prohibition, the couple can have two attitudes: either to trust, knowing that God is only benevolence, and rejoice in having access to the tree of life; if God forbids us the other tree, it is because it is not good for us. Or they can suspect God of having evil intentions, imagining that he wants to prevent us from accessing knowledge. This is the serpent's argument: he addresses the woman and feigns understanding: 'So, did God really say, "You must not eat from any tree in the garden"?' (3:1). The woman replies: "We may eat the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God has said, 'You must not eat the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, nor touch it, or you will die'" (3:2-4) . Have you noticed the shift: simply because she has listened to the voice of suspicion, she now speaks only of that tree and says 'the tree in the middle of the garden'; now, in good faith, she no longer sees  the tree of life in the centre of the garden, but the tree 'of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Her gaze is already altered, simply because she has allowed the serpent to speak to her; then the serpent can continue its slow work of demolition: "No, you will not die at all! Indeed, God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (3:5). Once again, the woman listens too well to these beautiful words, and the text suggests that her gaze is increasingly distorted: 'The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eye, and desirable for gaining wisdom' (3:6). The serpent has won: the woman takes the fruit, eats it, gives it to her husband, and he eats it too. And so the story ends: "Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked" (v. 7).  The serpent had spoken well: "your eyes will be opened" (3:5); the woman's mistake was to believe that he was speaking in her interest and revealing God's evil intentions. It was nothing but a lie: her gaze changed, it is true, but it became distorted. It is no coincidence that the suspicion cast on God is represented by the features of a serpent: Israel, in the desert, had experienced poisonous snakes. Our theologian at Solomon's court recalls this painful experience and says: there is a poison more serious than that of the most poisonous snakes; the suspicion cast on God is a deadly poison, it poisons our lives. The idea of our anonymous theologian is that all our misfortunes come from this suspicion that corrodes humanity. To say that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is reserved for God is to say that only God knows what makes us happy or unhappy; which, after all, is logical if he is the one who created us. Wanting to eat the fruit of this forbidden tree at all costs means claiming to determine for ourselves what is good for us: the warning 'You must not eat it and you must not touch it, otherwise you will die' clearly indicated that this was the wrong path to take. 

But wait! The story goes even further: during the journey through the desert, God gave the Law (the Torah) which from then on had to be observed, what we call the commandments. We know that the daily practice of this Law is the condition for the survival and harmonious growth of this people; if we truly knew that God only wants our life, our happiness, our freedom, we would trust and obey the Law with a good heart. It is truly the "tree of life" made available to us by God.

I said at the beginning that this is a parable, but it is a parable whose lesson applies to each of us; since the world began, it has always been the same story. St Paul (whom we read this Sunday in the second reading) continues his meditation and says: only Christ trusted the Father in everything; he shows us the way of Life.

Note: In the Hebrew text, the serpent's question is deliberately ambiguous: 'Did God really say, "You shall not eat of any tree in the garden"? 'הֲכִי־אָמַר אֱלֹהִים לֹא תֹאכְלוּ מִכֹּל עֵץ הַגָּן? " Ha-ki amar Elohim lo tochlu mikol etz ha-gan? Put this way, the question can be understood in a restrictive sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all trees" as a total negation. Or in a general and colloquial sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all" in an absolute sense, or as all trees except one, the tree of life or the other of the knowledge of good and evil. The serpent uses this ambiguity to sow doubt and suspicion, insinuating that God might be lying or withholding something good. In the oldest Hebrew manuscripts, there are no punctuation marks as we know them today, so the play on words and the double meaning were intentionally stronger. Exegetes note that the serpent does not make a clear statement but forms a subtle question that shifts the focus to doubt: "Perhaps God is deceiving you?" This account in Genesis has many resonances in the meditation of the people of Israel. One of the reflections suggested by the text concerns the tree of life: planted in the middle of the garden of Eden, it was accessible to man and its fruit was permitted. One might think that its fruit allowed man to remain alive, to that spiritual life that God had breathed into him: "The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being" (Gen 2:7). The rabbis then made the connection with the Law given by God on Sinai. In fact, it is accepted by believers as a gift from God, a support for daily life: 'My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life and bring you peace' (Pr 3:1-2). . 

NB For further clarification, I would add this: There is the first prohibition: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in Genesis 2:16-17, God sets only one limit on man: "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat." The tree of life is not forbidden at this point. The prohibition concerns only the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because God is the one who decides what is good and what is evil, and man is called to trust, not to replace God. Eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge means saying, 'I do not trust God; I decide what is good and what is evil'. After sin, there is a second prohibition (the tree of life) because the situation changes radically. In Genesis 3:22-24, we read: 'Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever'. Only after sin does God prevent access to the tree of life. Why? Because man, separated from God by sin, cannot live forever like this. Living eternally with the consequences of sin would be a condemnation, not a gift. God therefore protects man from a distorted immortality. In other words, God does not take life away as punishment, but to prevent evil from becoming eternal.

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; according to your great mercy, blot out my sin. Wash me completely from my guilt, purify me from my offence." The people of Israel are gathered for a great penitential celebration in the Temple of Jerusalem. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. After all, if they are gathered to ask for forgiveness, it is because they already know in advance that forgiveness has been granted. This, let us remember, was King David's great discovery: David took Bathsheba, with whom he had fallen in love, and had her husband Uriah killed, because a few days later, Bathsheba was expecting a child by him. When the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first seek a word of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all God's gifts and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest confession (2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... well, know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. And a thousand times throughout its history, Israel has been able to verify that God is truly 'the merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger and rich in love and faithfulness', according to the revelation he granted to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also transmitted this message, and the few verses of the psalm we have just heard are full of these discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example: "It is I, I who blot out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Is 43:25); or again: "I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you" (Is 44:22).

This proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good, perhaps; for some it even seems unfair: if everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? Perhaps we are too quick to forget that we all, without exception, need God's mercy; so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, for, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And Isaiah himself points out that it is above all in the matter of forgiveness that God surprises us most. The only condition required is to recognise ourselves as sinners. When the prodigal son (Lk 15) returns to his father, for reasons that are not very noble, Jesus puts a phrase from Psalm 50 on his lips: "Against you, against you alone, have I sinned," and this simple phrase restores the bond that the ungrateful young man had broken. Faced with this ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel — for it is they who speak here, as in all the psalms — recognise themselves as sinners: the confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this plea: "Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, according to your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, that is, as if drawn by misery, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. The word "mercy" has the same root as the word "alms": literally, we are beggars before God. Two things remain to be done. First of all, simply give thanks for the forgiveness granted without ceasing; the praise that the people of Israel address to God is the recognition of the goodness with which he has filled them since the beginning of their history. This clearly shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is thanksgiving for God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him, and only then, when this contemplation has revealed to us the gap between Him and us, can we recognise ourselves as sinners. The ritual of reconciliation says this clearly in its introduction: 'We confess God's love together with our sin'. And the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips: we need only allow God to open our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise"; some recognise here the first sentence of the Liturgy of the Hours each morning; in fact, it is taken from Psalm 50/51. This alone is a true lesson: praise and gratitude can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. St Paul puts it another way: 'God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba!", that is, "Father!"' (Gal 4:6). This irresistibly brings to mind a gesture of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: the healing of a deaf-mute; touching his ears and tongue, Jesus said, 'Ephphatha', which means 'Be opened'. And then, spontaneously, those present applied to Jesus a phrase that the Bible reserved for God: "He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak" (cf. Is 35:5-6). Even today, in some baptismal celebrations, the celebrant repeats this gesture of Jesus on the baptised, saying: "The Lord Jesus has made the deaf hear and the mute speak; may he grant you to hear his word and proclaim your faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father". The second thing to do, and what God expects of us, is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and this is a serious undertaking in our lives.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:12-19)

Adam was a figure of the one who was to come, Paul tells us; he speaks of Adam in the past tense because he refers to the book of Genesis and the story of the forbidden fruit, but for him Adam's drama is not a story of the past: this story is ours, every day; we are all Adam at times; the rabbis say, 'everyone is Adam to himself'.

And if we were to summarise the story of the Garden of Eden (which we reread in this Sunday's first reading), we could say this: by listening to the voice of the serpent rather than God's command, by allowing suspicion about God's intentions to invade their hearts, by believing that they could allow themselves everything, that they could 'know' everything - as the Bible says — man and woman placed themselves under the dominion of death. And when we say, 'everyone is Adam to himself', it means that every time we turn away from God, we allow the powers of death to invade our lives. St Paul, in his letter to the Romans, continues the same meditation and announces that humanity has taken a decisive step in Jesus Christ; we are all brothers and sisters of Adam and we are all brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ; we are brothers and sisters of Adam when we allow the poison of suspicion to infest our hearts, when we presume to make ourselves the law. We are brothers and sisters of Christ when we trust God enough to let him guide our lives. We are under the dominion of death when we behave like Adam; when we behave like Jesus, that is, like him, 'obedient' (i.e. trusting), we are already resurrected in the kingdom of life, the one John speaks of: 'He who believes in me, even if he dies, will live', a life that biological death does not interrupt. Let us return to the account in the Book of Genesis: The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground; he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being. This breath of God that makes man a living being – as the text says – was not given to animals: yet they are very much alive in a biological sense; we can therefore deduce that man enjoys a life different from biological life. St Paul affirms that because of Adam, death has reigned: he uses the terms 'reign' and 'reign over' several times, showing that there are two kingdoms that confront each other: the kingdom of sin when humanity acts like Adam, which brings death, judgement and condemnation. Then there is the kingdom of Christ, that is, with him, the new humanity, which is the kingdom of grace, of life, of free gift, of justification. However, no man is entirely in the kingdom of Christ, and Paul himself recognises this: 'I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want' (Rom 7:19). . Adam, that is, humanity, was created to be king, to cultivate and keep the garden, as we read in the book of Genesis, but, ill-advised by the serpent, he wants to do everything by himself, with his own strength, cutting himself off from God. Jesus Christ, on the contrary, does not 'claim' this kingship: it is given to him. As Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians: "though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself" (2:6, NRSV). The story of the Garden of Eden says the same thing in images: before the Fall, man and woman could eat the fruit of the tree of life; after the Fall, they no longer have access to it. Each in its own way, these two texts – that of Genesis on the one hand and that of the letter to the Romans on the other – tell us the deepest truth of our lives: with God, everything is grace, everything is a free gift; and Paul here insists on the abundance, on the profusion of grace, even speaking of the 'disproportion' of grace: It is not like the fall, the free gift... much more, God's grace has been poured out in abundance on the multitude, this grace given in one man, Jesus Christ. Everything is a gift, and this is not surprising since, as St John says, God is Love. It is not because Christ behaved well that he received a reward, and Adam received punishment because of his misconduct. Paul's discourse is deeper: Christ lives in total trust that everything will be given to him in God... and everything is given to him in the Resurrection. Adam, that is, each one of us, often wants to take possession of what can only be received as a gift, and for this reason finds himself 'naked', that is, deprived of everything. We could say that by birth we are citizens of the kingdom of Adam; through baptism we have asked to be naturalised in the kingdom of Christ. Obedience and disobedience in Paul's sense could thus be replaced: 'obedience' with trust and 'disobedience' with mistrust; as Kierkegaard says: "The opposite of sin is not virtue; the opposite of sin is faith." If we reread the story of Genesis, we can see that the author intentionally did not give proper names to the man and woman; he spoke of Adam (derived from adamah, meaning earth, dust), which means 'human being taken from the earth', while Eve (derived from Chavah, meaning life) is the one who gives life. By not giving them names, he wanted us to understand that the drama of Adam and Eve is not the story of particular individuals, but the story of every human being, and has always been so.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (4:1-11)

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil" . The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between Jesus' baptism and the temptations that immediately follow. Matthew had said a few verses earlier: Jesus "will save his people from their sins", which is precisely the meaning of the name Jesus. John the Baptist baptises Jesus in the Jordan even though he did not agree and had said: " I need to be baptised by you, and yet you come to me!" (Mt 3:14)... And it came to pass that when Jesus came up out of the water after his baptism, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

This phrase alone publicly announces that Jesus is truly the Messiah: because the expression 'Son of God' was synonymous with King-Messiah, and the phrase 'the beloved, in whom I am well pleased' (3:17) refers to one of the songs of the Servant in Isaiah. In a few words, Matthew reminds us of the whole mystery of the person of Jesus; and it is he, precisely, who is the Messiah, the Saviour, the Servant who will confront the Tempter. Like his people a few centuries earlier, he is led into the desert; like his people, he knows hunger; like his people, he must discover what God's will is for his children; like his people, he must choose before whom to bow down. "If you are the Son of God," repeats the Tempter, thus revealing the real problem; and Jesus is confronted with it, not only three times, but throughout his earthly life. What does it mean, in concrete terms, to be the Messiah? The question takes various forms: solving people's problems with miracles, such as turning stones into bread? Provoking God to test his promises? ... By throwing himself from the temple, for example, because Psalm 91 promised that God would rescue his Messiah... Possessing the world, dominating, reigning at any cost, even worshipping any idol? Even ceasing to be the Son? It should be noted that in the third temptation, the Tempter no longer repeats "If you are the Son of God".

The culmination of these temptations is that they target God's promises: they promise nothing more than what God himself promised to his Messiah. And the two interlocutors, the Tempter and Jesus, know this well. But here's the thing... God's promises are in the order of love; they can only be received as gifts; love cannot be demanded, it cannot be seized, it is received on bended knee, with gratitude. Ultimately, the same thing happens as in the Garden of Genesis: Adam knows, and rightly so, that he was created to be king, to be free, to be master of creation; but instead of accepting gifts as gifts, with gratitude and appreciation, he demands, he claims, he places himself on a par with God... He leaves the order of love and can no longer receive the love offered... he finds himself poor and naked. Jesus makes the opposite choice: 'Get behind me, Satan!' as he once said to Peter, adding, 'Your thoughts are not those of God, but those of men' (Mt 16:23). Furthermore, several times in this text, Matthew calls the Tempter "devil," which in Greek means "the one who divides." Satan is for each of us, as he is for Jesus himself, the one who tends to separate us from God, to see things in Adam's way and not in God's way. On closer inspection, it all lies in the gaze: Adam's is distorted; to keep his gaze clear, Jesus scrutinises the Word of God: the three responses to the Tempter are quotations from the book of Deuteronomy (chapter 8), in a passage that is precisely a meditation on the temptations of the people of Israel in the desert. Then, Matthew points out, the devil (the divider) leaves him; he has not succeeded in dividing, in turning away the Son's heart. This recalls St John's phrase in the Prologue (Jn 1:1): 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God (pros ton Theon, which means turned towards God), and the Word was God'. . The devil has not succeeded in turning the Son's heart away, and so he is then completely available to receive God's gifts: "Behold, angels came and ministered to him."

NB At the request of some, I would also like to present the homily I am preparing for this first Sunday of Lent.

Homily – First Sunday of Lent

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil." The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between the baptism of Jesus and the temptations that immediately follow. When Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, 'This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased'. Jesus is the 'Son of God', the Messiah, the Saviour, the servant of God who will face the Tempter. Satan will say just that: "If you are the Son of God," thus revealing the real problem, which is the attempt to separate Jesus' divine identity from his way of living it, or better yet, to push Jesus to use his divine power without the trust of a son and his humanity without obedience. To understand this better, we must return to the first reading from the book of Genesis, where the tempting serpent promises Eve: "You will be like God" (Gen 3:5). The temptation is not only about a fruit that should not be eaten, but about autonomy from God, the desire to decide for oneself what is good and evil, without trusting the Father. Adam and Eve allowed themselves to be persuaded and found themselves naked. They lost everything!

In the desert, the devil now tempts Jesus, the new Adam, a true man like us except for sin, and launches three provocations: 1. "Say that these stones become bread." The temptation to live without depending on God, to seek immediate satisfaction. There is a hunger that goes beyond bread and that only God can satisfy. But this means trusting God, and Jesus responds: 'It is written: Man shall not live by bread alone' (Mt 4:4). 2nd temptation. The devil raises the stakes: "Throw yourself down" from the temple and the angels will catch you. Here is the temptation to manipulate God, to ask for spectacular signs to confirm one's faith. This is a very subtle temptation today, but one that is very common when we believe in making the liturgy, evangelisation and ecclesial events spectacular. Jesus teaches us to spread the Gospel like yeast in dough and a small seed in the ground: everything happens in silence because we must not believe that we are protagonists but lives always hidden in God, even when we act publicly. It is not our work to convert the world. Let us listen to Jesus who replies: "It is written: You shall not tempt the Lord your God" (Mt 4:7). . 3. In the third temptation, it should be noted that the Tempter no longer repeats 'If you are the Son of God', because Satan believes himself to be the master of the world and so he can say to him, 'I will give you everything if you bow down to me'. It is the temptation of power and compromise, of bending one's life to immediate advantages. It is very dangerous because it often involves the idea that we can accept anything in order to evangelise, but we are not the masters! Jesus replies: "It is written: You shall worship the Lord your God and him alone shall you serve" (Mt 4:10). 

Let us note something decisive: Jesus does not respond with his own intelligence or strength, but always by referring to the Word of God, which is the only true light that can guide man's journey through the desert of life, a journey that is often dark and full of pitfalls. This is because the Word of God is the light of truth that never goes out. St John Chrysostom reminds us: "In Scripture we find not only words, but the strength we need to overcome evil; it is the nourishment of the soul and the light that guides those who walk in darkness" (Homilies on Matthew, 4th century).   Even when the world rejects God, even when the right choices seem uncomfortable or losing, Scripture remains the sure guide. How can we apply this to our lives? Today, being a Christian is often difficult: faith can be mocked or ignored, the Gospel seems useless, Christ is fought against and sometimes tolerated, but not welcomed. Lent invites us to make a daily choice: who guides our lives? Do we want to do everything on our own, like Eve and Adam in Eden, choosing what seems most convenient? Or do we entrust ourselves to God, allowing his Word to enlighten our decisions and give meaning even to our difficulties? Following Christ means choosing fidelity, even when the world goes against it. It means living our lives as Christians without compromise, basing ourselves not on personal strength, but on the living Word of God. We are always sustained by a certain and concrete hope: the Gospel ends with a silent promise: 'Then the devil left him' (Mt 4:11). Those who entrust themselves to God are not left alone in their trials. Temptation may seem powerful, but those who walk in the light of the Word are never defeated.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Ash Wednesday [18 February 2026]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! I am now sending the texts for Ash Wednesday and Wednesday those for Sunday.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Joel (2:12-18)

'Return to the Lord with all your heart'. The book of the prophet Joel is one of the shortest in the Old Testament: it has only seventy-three verses, divided into four chapters, and is generally dated around 600 BC, shortly before the Exile to Babylon. Three major themes are constantly interwoven in this writing: the announcement of terrible scourges, real or symbolic; the urgent call to fasting and conversion; and finally, the proclamation of the salvation that God grants to his people. It is above all the second theme, that of conversion, which the liturgy proposes at the beginning of the Lenten journey. The invitation to conversion opens solemnly with the typical formula of the prophets: "The word of the Lord." It draws attention and asks us to take seriously what follows. And what follows is a decisive word: "Return". It is the fundamental verb of biblical penitential language. God invites his people to return to him, while the people, in turn, implore God to "return", that is, to grant forgiveness and mercy. This return to God must be expressed through fasting, tears and mourning: traditional signs of penance. However, the prophets, and Joel in particular, warn against the risk of stopping at outward appearances. For this reason, the prophet strongly affirms: "Rend your hearts and not your garments". Authentic conversion is not a matter of visible rituals, but a profound change of heart. Joel thus follows in the great prophetic tradition inaugurated by Isaiah, who denounced empty and formal worship, incapable of transforming life: God rejects solemn feasts and multiplied prayers when hands remain stained with injustice. What He asks for is a true purification of the heart and actions, the abandonment of evil and a concrete commitment to good and justice. The same message is expressed in a particularly intense way in Psalm 50/51, which defines true conversion as a "broken and humbled heart". In the light of Ezekiel, this image takes on an even deeper meaning: it is necessary for the heart of stone to be broken so that a heart of flesh may finally be born, capable of listening to God and living according to his will. When Joel calls for hearts to be torn, he means precisely this radical transformation of the human being. Conversion, in Joel's view, aims to obtain God's forgiveness and avert deserved punishment. The prophet reminds us that the Lord is 'tender and merciful, slow to anger and rich in love' and leaves open a hope: perhaps God will retrace his steps, renounce punishment and save his people from humiliation before the nations. But the final announcement exceeds all expectations: forgiveness is not only possible, it has already been granted. The liturgical translation speaks of a God who is 'moved' by his people, but the Hebrew text is even stronger: 'The Lord burns with zeal for his land and has compassion on his people'. This is not a cold or distant pity, but a passionate and faithful love. It remains to be discovered in biblical revelation that this mercy is not reserved for Israel alone. The book of Jonah shows this in a surprising way, recounting the conversion of Nineveh, the pagan city: faced with the fasting and change of life of its inhabitants, God renounces the punishment he had announced. The message is clear: the Lord "burns with zeal" for all people, even those who seem distant or unworthy.

This truth will find its definitive expression in the New Testament, when St Paul affirms that God has manifested his love in a radical way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Rom 5:8).

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; in your great mercy blot out my guilt. Wash me clean of my guilt, purify me from my sin." The people of Israel are gathered in the Temple in Jerusalem for a great penitential celebration. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. And, after all, if they gather to ask for forgiveness, it is precisely because they know in advance that forgiveness has already been granted. This was the great discovery of King David, who had brought his beautiful neighbour Bathsheba (the wife of an officer, Uriah, who was at war at the time) to his palace and slept with her, and she became pregnant. Some time later, Bathsheba let David know that she was expecting his child. At that point, David arranged for the death of her betrayed husband on the battlefield, so that he could definitively take possession of the woman and the child she was carrying. Now, and this is where God's unexpectedness comes in, when the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first try to extract a confession of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all the gifts he had received from God and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest admission of guilt (cf. 2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... and know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. Israel has always been able to verify that God is truly a merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger, rich in faithful love, according to the revelation made to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also reiterated this message, and the verses of the psalm we have heard are imbued with the discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example, has God say: "I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Isaiah 43:25). The proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good to be true; to some it even seems unfair. If everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? It is to forget too quickly that all of us, without exception, need God's mercy: so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, because, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And in forgiving, Isaiah points out, God surprises us more than anything else. Faced with the ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel recognise themselves as sinners. The confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this supplication: Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, in your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. After all, the word 'mercy' has the same root as the word 'alms': literally, we are beggars before God. At this point, we have two things left to do.

Simply give thanks for this forgiveness that is continually given. When Israel turns to God, it always acknowledges the goodness with which He has filled it since the beginning of its history, and this shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is the acknowledgement of God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him; only then, this contemplation, revealing the gap between Him and us, allows us to recognise ourselves as sinners: we confess God's love together with our sin. Then the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips when God opens our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise" (Psalm 50/51). Praise and thanksgiving can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. The second thing God expects of us is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and that is quite a programme.

*Second reading from the second letter of St Paul to the Corinthians (5:20-6:2)

"Be reconciled to God," says Paul; but reconciliation implies that there is a quarrel: what quarrel is it? The men of the Old Testament discovered that God is not at odds with man. Psalm 102/103, for example, states: The Lord does not always contend, nor does he keep his anger forever; he does not treat us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities... Isaiah also invites the wicked to abandon their ways, the unrighteous to abandon their thoughts; return to the Lord, who will have compassion on you, to our God, who forgives abundantly (Is 55:7). And the book of Wisdom adds: 'You have mercy on all because you can do all things, and you turn away your gaze from the sins of men to lead them to repentance... You spare them all, because they are yours, Lord, who loves life... Your dominion over all makes you use clemency towards all' (Wisdom 11:23; 12:16). The men of the Bible experienced this, beginning with David. God knew that he had blood on his hands (after the killing of Uriah, Bathsheba's husband, 2 Sam 12), yet he sent the prophet Nathan to tell him in essence: "Everything you have, I have given you, and if that is not enough, I am ready to give you everything else you desire." God also knew that Solomon owed his throne to the elimination of his rivals, yet he listened to his prayer at Gibeon and granted it far beyond what the young king had dared to ask (1 Kings 3). Furthermore, God's very name — the Merciful One — means that he loves us even more when we are miserable. God, therefore, is not at odds with man; yet Paul speaks of reconciliation, because man has always been at odds with God. The text of Genesis (Genesis 2-3) attributes the accusatory phrase to the serpent: "God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil" (Gen 3:4). In other words, man suspects that God is jealous and does not want his good. But since that voice is not natural to man (it is the serpent's), he can be healed of this suspicion. This is what Paul says: "It is God himself who calls you; we urge you in the name of Christ: be reconciled to God." And what did God do to remove this quarrel, this suspicion, from our hearts? He who knew no sin, God made him sin for us: Jesus knew no sin even for a moment, he was never at odds with the Father. Paul adds: 'He became obedient' (Phil 2:8), that is, trusting even through suffering and death. He sought to communicate to men this trust and the revelation of a God who is only love, forgiveness, and help for the little ones. Paradoxically, it was precisely for this reason that he was considered blasphemous, placed among sinners and executed as a cursed man (Deut 21:23). The darkness of men fell upon him, and God allowed it because it was the only way to make us realise how far his "zeal for his people" can go, as the prophet Joel says. Jesus suffered in the flesh the sin of men, their violence, their hatred, their rejection of a God of love. On the face of the crucified Christ, we contemplate the horror of human sin, but also God's gentleness and forgiveness. From this contemplation can come our conversion, our 'justification', as Paul says. They will look upon him whom they have pierced (cf. Zechariah 12:10; John 19:37). To discover in Jesus, who forgives his executioners, the very image of God means to enter into the reconciliation offered by God. We are left with the task of proclaiming this to the world: 'We are ambassadors for Christ', says Paul, considering himself sent on mission to his brothers and sisters. It is up to us to continue this mission, and this is probably the meaning of Paul's final quotation: "For it is written in Scripture: 'At the favourable time I answered you, on the day of salvation I helped you.'" Paul here takes up a phrase from Isaiah, who exhorted the Babylonian exiles to proclaim that the hour of God's salvation had come. In turn, Christ entrusted to the Church the task of proclaiming the forgiveness of sins to the world.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (6:1-6, 16-18)

  Here we have two short excerpts from the Sermon on the Mount, which occupies chapters 5-7 of St Matthew; the entire sermon is built around its central core, the Lord's Prayer (6:9-13), which gives meaning to everything else. The recommendations we read today are not just moral advice: they concern the very meaning of faith. All our actions are rooted in the discovery that God is Father. Thus, prayer, almsgiving and fasting become paths to bring us closer to God the Father: fasting means learning to go out of ourselves, praying means centring ourselves on God, giving alms means centring ourselves on our brothers and sisters. Three times Jesus repeats similar, almost polemical formulations: Do not be like those who flaunt their piety.... It is important to remember how significant religious manifestations were in Jewish society at the time, with the inevitable risk of attributing too much value to outward gestures; and probably even prominent figures did not escape this! Matthew sometimes reports Jesus' rebukes to those who focused more on the length of their fringes than on mercy and faithfulness (Mt 23:5f). Here, however, Jesus invites his disciples to a truth operation: If you want to live as righteous people, avoid acting in front of others to be admired. Righteousness was the great concern of believers: and if Jesus mentions the pursuit of righteousness twice in the Beatitudes, it is because that term, that thirst, was familiar to his listeners: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied" (5:6); "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (5:10). True biblical justice consists in harmony with God's plan, not in the accumulation of practices, however noble they may seem. The famous phrase from Genesis — Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6) — teaches us that justice is first and foremost righteousness, as in a musical instrument, a deep harmony with God's will.

The three practices — prayer, fasting, almsgiving — are paths to righteousness.

Prayer: let God guide us according to his plan: "Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." We wait for Him to teach us the true needs of the Kingdom. Jesus precedes the teaching of the Our Father with this recommendation: "When you pray, do not do as the pagans do... your Father knows what you need before you ask him (6:7-8).

Fasting: by ceasing to pursue what we believe is necessary for our happiness, which risks absorbing us more and more, we learn freedom and recognise true priorities; Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God (Mt 4:4).

Almsgiving: The word almsgiving comes from the same family as eleison: to give alms means to open one's heart to mercy. God wants the good of all his children; justice, understood as harmony with Him, inevitably includes a dimension of social justice. The parable of the Last Judgement (Mt 25:31-46) confirms this: "Come, blessed of my Father... for I was hungry and you gave me food... and the righteous will enter into eternal life." The behaviours that Jesus condemns — do not be like those who show off — are the opposite: they keep man centred on himself, closing his heart to the transforming action of the Spirit.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Sons’ Prayer: performance or Listening?

Mt 6:7-15 (v.13)

«When you pray, do not babble like the pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their wordiness» (Mt 6:7; cf. Lk 11:1).

The God of religions was named with an overabundance of high-sounding honorific epithets, as if he craved ever more numerous ranks of incensers.

The «Father» is not accompanied by prestigious titles. A child doesn’t address the parent as a very high, eternal and omnipotent, but the a reliable family Person who transmits life to him.

And the son doesn’t imagine that he has to offer external cries and acknowledgments: the Father looks at needs, not merits.

«Et ne nos inducas in tentationem»: ancient Prayer of the sons.

«Do not induce us [Lead us not into]» is (in the Latin and Greek sense: «until the end») an ancient Symbol of the ‘reborn in Christ’, in the experience of real life.

In religions there are clearly opposed demons and angels: disordered and dark powers, contrary to the bright and "right" ones.

But by dint of relegating the former, the worst continually resurface, until they win the game and spread.

In the lives of the saints we see these great women and men strangely always under temptation - because they disdain evil, therefore they do not know it.

Gradually, however, the little constant naggings becomes overwhelming crowds.

The persons of Faith do not act according to pre-established and superficial models, not even religious ones; they are aware that they are not heroes or paradigm phenomena.

That's why they rely on. They let intimate problems go by: understood its strength!

This is the meaning of the formula of the Our Father, in its original sense: «and lead us not into [the end of] temptation [trial] (because we know our weakness)».

If, on the other hand, our 'counterpart' becomes a protagonist, a one-sided pivot, a constant afterthought, and a block, we’re done for.

Pain, failures, sadness, frustrations, weaknesses, a thousand anxieties, too many falls, accustom us to experience transgressions as part of ourselves: Condition to be evaluated, not "guilt" to be cut horizontally.

In the process of true salvific transmutation, that signal speaks of us: within a deviation or the eccentricity there is a secret or a knowledge to be found, for a ‘new personal birth’.

Looking at the discomforts and oppositions, we realize that these critical sides of being become like a malleable magma, which approaches our healing more quickly. As if through a permanent, radical conversion… because it involves and belongs to us; not in peripheral mode, but basically, of Seed and Nature.

Absorbed patterns and beliefs don’t allow us to understand that the passionate life is composed of opposing states, of competitive energies - which must not be disguised in order to be considered decent people.

Perceiving and integrating such depths, we lay down the idea and atmosphere of impending danger, devoid of further opportunity; only for death.

We become mature, without dissociation or hysterical states resulting from contrived identifications, nor disesteem for an important part of us.

In short, straits and "crosses" have something to tell us.

They shake the soul to the root, sweep away the absorbed masks, ignite the person, and save the life.

In this way, inconveniences and anxieties help us. They hide capabilities and possibilities that we do not yet see.

In the virtue of the shaky yet unique exceptionality for each person, here is the true journey opening up.

Path of the Father and of the heart, Way that wants to guide us to alternative trajectories, new dimensions of existence.

The difference of the Faith, compared to ancient religiosity [in the sense of the ‘Cross-inside’]?

It’s in the consciousness that only the sick heal, only the incomplete grow.

Only the halting women and men regain expression, evolve. And falling, they snap forward.

[Tuesday 1st wk. in Lent, February 24, 2026]

Sons’ Prayer: performance or Listening?

(Mt 6:7-15)

In the communities of Mt and Lk the "prayer" of the sons - the "Our Father" - does not originate as prayer, but as a formula of acceptance of the Beatitudes (in its scans: invocation to the Father, human situation and advent of the Kingdom, liberation).

In any case, the full difference between religious prayer and expression animated by Faith lies in the distinction between: Performance or Perception.

[As Pope Francis says: "To pray is not to talk to God like a parrot". "Our God does not need sacrifices to win his favour! He needs nothing'].

In religions - in fact - it is the praying subject who 'prays', making requests, expounding himself, praising, and so on.

Still in Thomism, the virtue of religion was considered to be an aspect of the cardinal virtue of Justice. As if to say: man's rightful position before God is that of one who recognises a duty of worship (worship that is directed from him) towards the Creator; and man - the subject of prayer - would fulfil it.

Conversely, the child of God in Christ is a "hearer" of the Logos: he is the one who tends his ear, perceives, welcomes: in short, the authentic Subject who expresses himself is God himself.

He reveals Himself through the Word, in the reality of events, in the folds of universal and personal history, in the particular Calling He grants us, even in intimate images.

They become plastic expressions of Mystery (and personal Vocation) that wave upon wave even guide the soul.

"When you pray, do not babble like the pagans, for they think they are heard because of their wordiness" (Mt 6:7; cf. Lk 11:1).

In the Faith we participate in the authentic prayer of Jesus Himself - Person in us - addressed to the Father, first of all "listening" to His providential proposals: as if united to the Friend and Brother we enter into this Dialogue - full of even figurative suggestions.

But it is the Only-Begotten who prays; we are not the great protagonists. Only in this sense can the act of praying be defined as 'childlike' or 'Christian'.

Our prayer life is not an ascetical exercise - nor a duty, nor a shopping list - because God does not need to be informed about something He had not thought of before.

As the Master says, the Father knows what we need (Mt 6:8). So to turn to Him does not require any effort [ lacerating effort to centre oneself and step outside oneself]. Nor does it force us into too many (or the right) words.

Authentic prayer is not a tracing, nor a leap into outer darkness, but an excavation and sifting, given. It is a plunge into our being, where the intimacy of the Understanding aims to understand the Author's signature at the heart of events; even emotions.

The prayer of the man of Faith does not aim to introduce God's will and the reality of situations into narrow horizons and judgments that are already comprehensible, as if pushing it into unnatural attunements.

Prayer is a perceptive leap without repetitive identities, from one's own Core - which clears away mental toxins; and so it becomes an experience of fullness of being, in search of global and personal meaning.

Nor is the praying man prey to some excited paroxysmal state (ridiculous or soporific): he is welcoming an Action - a Work of paradoxical suspension, on the path to his own Bliss.

Prayer is even a gesture of aesthetic order in Christ. Precisely because it tends to rake our everyday imagery so that it is shaped according to the guiding vision it inhabits. It shifts and almost directs the eye of the soul, and the ecclesial experience.

A virtue-event that gradually chisels that very personal image that brings to awareness a goal or a communal reality of praise, that is, an innate narrative Voice of unknown energies, for important changes.

Step by step, this perception and dialogue that emerges induces one to internalise hidden flashes of the path that belongs to us: a missionary spirit that seeks harmony, the creation of a living environment, and so on. Even destabilising.

Only in this sense is prayer in order to our benefits.

Nor can it be reduced to a group badge, because although we recognise ourselves in some knowledge, each one has its own language of the soul, a relevant history and sensitivity, an unprecedented iconic world (also in terms of micro and macro dreamed relations), as well as an unrepeatable task of salvation.

For this reason too - albeit in terms of the community of reference - the Symbol of the reborn in Christ turning to the Father has come down to us in different versions: Mt, Lk, Didaché ['Teaching' perhaps contemporary with the last New Testament writings, a kind of early Catechism]. 

To introduce us to specific considerations, it is appropriate to ask: why did Jesus not attend places of worship to recite traditional formulas, but to teach?

And never does it appear that the apostles pray with Him: it seems that they only wanted a formula to distinguish themselves from other rabbinical schools (cf. Lk 11:1).

The Lord only holds fast to the mentality and style of life: He proceeds on fundamental options - and insists on the perception of welcoming, rather than on our saying and organising (little imbued with grounded eternity).

Father

The God of religions was named with an overabundance of high-sounding honorary epithets, as if he craved ever-growing ranks of incense-givers.

The Father is not accompanied by prestigious titles. A son does not address his parent as high, eternal or lofty, but as the one who imparts life to him.

And the son does not imagine that he has to give external shout-outs and accolades - otherwise the superior and master would admonish and chastise: the Parent looks at needs, not merits.

The God of religions governs his subjects by enacting laws, as a sovereign does; the Father transmits his Spirit, his own Life, which elevates and perfects both personal listening skills and the noticing (e.g. of brothers).

The only request is that we extend our missionary resources and feed on the Father-Person who reshapes us on his own virtues, according to what we should be, and could perhaps already have been.

One reality within our reach is the cancellation of material debts that our neighbour has incurred in need.

There is no witness to God-Love that does not pass through a fraternal community, in which we experience the communion of goods.

The security of being right with God is in the joy of living together and sharing.

In religious belief, material blessings are often confused with divine blessings, which accentuates the competitions, artificial primacy and inconveniences of real life.

Conversely, the spirit of the Beatitudes is made manifest in a people where the distinctions between creditors and debtors are abolished.

"Do not induce us": ancient Prayer of the children, in real life

Essence of God is: Love that does not betray or forsake; useless, confusing and blasphemous to ask a Father: 'Do not forsake me' [cf. Greek text]. Although it may be impressive to the outer ear.

The false mysticism of the forsaken Jesus (even by the Father!) does not educate; perhaps it fascinates, certainly confuses - and plagues.

Only the Spirit is guaranteed in prayer: the lucidity to understand the fruitfulness of the Cross, the gain in the loss, the life not in triumph but in death. And the strength to be faithful to one's own Calling, despite persecutions, even "internal" ones.

The community and individual souls, however, ask not to be placed in the extreme conditions of trial, well aware of their own limitation, their personal invincible precariousness, albeit redeemed.

This is the threshold that distinguishes religiosity and Faith: on the one hand, the 'safe' formula of the convinced and strong; on the other, a resigned and expectant prayer: of the unsteady, redeemed by love.

"Non c'indurre" is precisely [in the Latin and Greek sense: "introduce to the end"] an ancient Symbol of those reborn in Christ, in the experience of real life.

In religions there are clearly opposed demons and angels: disordered and dark powers, opposed to the luminous and 'proper' ones.

But by dint of pushing the former back, the worse ones continually resurface, until they win the game and run rampant.

In the lives of the saints, we see these great men strangely always under temptation - because they disdain evil, therefore they do not know it. Gradually, however, the continual nagging becomes uncontainable droves.

The woman and man of Faith do not act according to rushed and superficial pre-established models, not even religious ones; they are aware that they are not heroes or paradigm phenomena.

That is why they trust. They let their intimate problems pass them by: they have understood their power!

This is the meaning of the formula of the Lord's Prayer, in its original sense: 'do not carry us through the trial to the end, for we know our weakness'.

Such attention arises so that sin itself - by dint of denying it, then disguising it - does not paradoxically become the hidden protagonist of our path. The pivot of attention, which unfortunately engulfs thoughts, blocking the internal processes of spontaneous growth, perception of Grace and self-healing [in order to one's own unrepeatable Calling].

This would be the opposite of Redemption and Freedom, hence of Love: it is annihilated where there is a superior above - even God.

On the contrary, it is very fruitful to recover its energy, which has put us in touch with our deepest strata, for new horizons. And to take it on by making it one's own host, in its own right - to (only then) invest it in an unexpected and wise manner. 

If, on the other hand, our 'counterpart' becomes a constant afterthought and block, we’re done for.

Sorrows, failures, sadness, frustrations, weaknesses, a thousand anxieties, too many downfalls, accustom us to experiencing evil as part of ourselves: a condition to be evaluated, not a 'fault' to be cut horizontally.

In the process of true salvific transmutation, that signal speaks of us: within a deviation or eccentricity there is a secret or knowledge to be found, to be reborn personally.

By casting our gaze on the discomforts and oppositions, we realise that these critical sides of being become like a malleable magma, which more quickly approaches healing. Like through a conversion, permanent, radical... because it involves and belongs to us; not artificial and peripheral, but fundamental, of Seed and Nature.

Absorbed schemas and convictions do not allow us to understand that passionate life is composed of opposing states, of competitive energies - which we must not disguise in order to be considered decent people.

Perceiving and integrating such depths, we lay down the idea and atmosphere of impending danger, devoid of further opportunities, only for death.

We become mature, without dissociation or hysterical states resulting from contrived identifications, nor disesteem for an important part of us.

In short, narrowness and 'crosses' have something to tell us.

They shake the soul at the root, sweep away the absorbed masks, ignite the person, and save life.

In this way, inconveniences and anxieties help us. They conceal capacities and possibilities that we do not yet see.

In the virtue of the shaky yet unique exceptionality of each person, the true path opens up.

Path of the Father and of the heart, Way that wants to guide us towards alternative trajectories, new dimensions of existence.

The difference of the Faith, compared to ancient religiosity [in the sense of the cross within]?

It is in the awareness that only the sick heal, only the incomplete grow.

Only the lame regain expression, evolve. And falling, they move forward.

Cf. Jn 16:23-28: Prayer in the Name: comm. quotid. Saturday 6th Easter

Cf. Mt 11,25-27: The only prayer of Jesus ever taught Wednesday 15.a

Prayer is the living relationship of the children of God with their Father who is good beyond measure, with his Son Jesus Christ and with the Holy Spirit (cf. CCC 2565). Therefore the life of prayer consists in being habitually in God’s presence and being aware of it, in living in a relationship with God as we live our customary relationships in life, with our dearest relatives, with true friends; indeed the relationship with the Lord is the relationship that gives light to all our other relationships. This communion of life with the Triune God is possible because through Baptism we have been incorporated into Christ, we have begun to be one with him (cf. Rom 6:5).

In fact, only through Christ can we converse with God the Father as children, otherwise it is not possible, but in communion with the Son we can also say, as he did, “Abba”. In communion with Christ we can know God as our true Father (cf. Mt 11:27). For this reason Christian prayer consists in looking constantly at Christ and in an ever new way, speaking to him, being with him in silence, listening to him, acting and suffering with him. The Christian rediscovers his true identity in Christ, “the first-born of all creation” in whom “all things hold together” (cf. Col 1,15ff.). In identifying with him, in being one with him, I rediscover my personal identity as a true son or daughter who looks to God as to a Father full of love.

But let us not forget: it is in the Church that we discover Christ, that we know him as a living Person. She is “his Body”. This corporeity can be understood on the basis of the biblical words about man and about woman: the two will be one flesh (cf. Gen 2:24; Eph 5:30ff.; 1 Cor 6:16f.). The indissoluble bond between Christ and the Church, through the unifying power of love, does not cancel the “you” and the “I” but on the contrary raises them to their highest unity. Finding one’s identity in Christ means reaching communion with him, that does not wipe me out but raises me to the loftiest dignity, that of a child of God in Christ: “The love-story between God and man consists in the very fact that this communion of will increases in a communion of thought and sentiment, and thus our will and God's will increasingly coincide” (Encyclical Deus Caritas Est, n. 17). Praying means raising oneself to God’s heights, through a necessary, gradual transformation of our being.

Thus, by participating in the liturgy we make our own the language of Mother Church, we learn to speak in her and for her. Of course, as I have already said, this happens gradually, little by little. I must immerse myself ever more deeply in the words of the Church with my prayer, with my life, with my suffering, with my joy, and with my thought. It is a process that transforms us.

I therefore think that these reflections enable us to answer the question we asked ourselves at the outset: how do I learn to pray, how do I develop in my prayer? Looking at the example which Jesus taught us, the Pater Noster [Our Father], we see that the first word [in Latin] is “Father” and the second is “our”. Thus the answer is clear, I learn to pray, I nourish my prayer by addressing God as Father and praying-with-others, praying with the Church, accepting the gift of his words which gradually become familiar to me and full of meaning. The dialogue that God establishes with each one of us, and we with him in prayer, always includes a “with”; it is impossible to pray to God in an individualistic manner. In liturgical prayer, especially the Eucharist and — formed by the liturgy — in every prayer, we do not only speak as individuals but on the contrary enter into the “we” of the Church that prays. And we must transform our “I”, entering into this “we”.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 3 October 2012]

Our Father, who art in heaven . . .".

We stand at the altar around which the whole Church is gathered in Sarajevo. We utter the words that Christ, Son of the Living God, taught us: Son consubstantial with the Father. He alone calls God "Father" (Abba - Father! My Father!) and He alone can authorise us to address God by calling Him "Father", "Our Father". He teaches us this prayer in which everything is contained. We wish to find in this prayer today what we can and must say to God - our Father, at this moment in history, here in Sarajevo.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven".

"I, the Bishop of Rome, the first Slavic Pope, kneel before You to cry out: "From plague, famine and war - deliver us!""

2. Our Father! Father of men: Father of peoples. Father of all peoples who dwell in the world. Father of the peoples of Europe. Of the peoples of the Balkans.

Father of the peoples who belong to the family of the South Slavs! Father of the peoples who have written their history here, on this peninsula, for centuries. Father of the peoples, touched unfortunately not for the first time by the cataclysm of war.

"Our Father . . .". I, Bishop of Rome, the first Slavic Pope, kneel before You to cry out: "From plague, famine and war - deliver us!" I know that in this plea many join me. Not only here in Sarajevo, in Bosnia and Herzegovina, but in the whole of Europe and beyond. I come here carrying with me the certainty of this prayer uttered by the hearts and lips of countless of my brothers and sisters. For so long they have been waiting for this very "great prayer" of the Church, of the people of God, to be fulfilled in this place. For so long, I myself have invited everyone to join in this prayer.

How can we not recall here the prayer made in Assisi in January last year? And then the one raised in Rome, in St Peter's Basilica, in January of this year? From the beginning of the tragic events in the Balkans, in the countries of former Yugoslavia, the guiding thought of the Church, and in particular of the Apostolic See, has been the prayer for peace.

3. Our Father, "hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come . . .". May your holy and merciful name shine among men. Thy kingdom come, kingdom of justice and peace, of forgiveness and love.

"Thy will be done . . .".

Thy will be done in the world, and particularly in this troubled land of the Balkans. Thou lovest not violence and hatred. Thou shun injustice and selfishness. Thou wilt that men be brothers to one another and acknowledge Thee as their Father.

Our Father, Father of every human being, "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven". Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven!

4. It is Christ "our peace" (Eph 2:14). He who taught us to address God by calling him "Father".

He who by His blood conquered the mystery of iniquity and division, and by His Cross broke down the massive wall that separated men, making them strangers to one another; He who reconciled humanity with God and united men among themselves as brothers.

That is why Christ was able to say one day to the Apostles, before his sacrifice on the Cross: 'I leave you peace, I give you my peace. Not as the world gives it, I give it to you" (John 14: 27). It is then that he promised the Spirit of Truth, who is at the same time Spirit of Love, Spirit of Peace!

Come, Holy Spirit! "Veni, creator Spiritus, mentes tuorum visita . . .!" "Come, Creator Spirit, visit our minds, fill with your grace the hearts you have created".

Come, Holy Spirit! We invoke you from this city of Sarajevo, crossroads of tensions between different cultures and nations, where the fuse was lit which, at the beginning of the century, triggered the First World War, and where, at the end of the second millennium, similar tensions are concentrated, capable of destroying peoples called by history to work together in harmonious coexistence.

Come, Spirit of peace! Through you we cry out: "Abba, Father" (Rom 8:15).

Give us this day our daily bread . . .".

Praying for bread means praying for all that is necessary for life. Let us pray that, in the distribution of resources among individuals and peoples, the principle of a universal sharing of mankind in God's created goods may always be realised.

Let us pray that the use of resources in armaments will not damage or even destroy the heritage of culture, which constitutes the highest good of humanity. Let us pray that restrictive measures, deemed necessary to curb the conflict, will not cause inhuman suffering to the defenceless population. Every man, every family has a right to its 'daily bread'.

6. "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us . . .".

With these words we touch upon the crucial issue. Christ himself warned us of this, who, dying on the cross, said of his slayers: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do' (Lk 23:34).

The history of men, peoples and nations is full of mutual resentment and injustice. How important was the historic expression addressed by the Polish Bishops to their German brethren at the end of the Second Vatican Council: 'Let us forgive and ask forgiveness'! If peace has been possible in that region of Europe, it seems to have come about thanks to the attitude effectively expressed by those words.

Today we want to pray for the renewal of a similar gesture: "Let us forgive and ask forgiveness" for our brothers in the Balkans! Without this attitude it is difficult to build peace. The spiral of 'guilt' and 'punishment' will never be closed, if at some point forgiveness is not achieved.

Forgiveness does not mean forgetting. If memory is the law of history, forgiveness is the power of God, the power of Christ acting in the affairs of men and peoples.

7. "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil . . .".

Lead us not into temptation! What are the temptations that we ask the Father to remove today? They are those that make the heart of man a heart of stone, insensitive to the call of forgiveness and concord. They are the temptations of ethnic prejudices, which make one indifferent to the rights of others and their suffering. They are the temptations of exaggerated nationalisms, which lead to the overpowering of one's neighbour and the lust for revenge. They are all the temptations in which the civilisation of death expresses itself.

Faced with the desolating spectacle of human failures, let us pray with the words of Venerable Brother Bartholomew I, Patriarch of the Church of Constantinople: "Lord, make our hearts of stone crumble at the sight of your suffering and become hearts of flesh. Let your Cross dissolve our prejudices. With the vision of your agonising struggle against death, flee our indifference or our rebellion" (Way of the Cross at the Colosseum, Good Friday 1990, Opening Prayer).

Deliver us from evil! Here is another word that belongs completely to Christ and his Gospel. "I did not come to condemn the world, but to save the world" (Jn 12:47). Humanity is called to salvation in Christ and through Christ. To this salvation are also called the nations that the current war has so terribly divided!

Let us pray today for the saving power of the Cross to help overcome the historic temptation of hatred. Enough of the countless destructions! Let us pray - following the rhythm of the Lord's prayer - that the time of reconstruction, the time of peace, may begin.

Pray with us the dead of Sarajevo, whose remains lie in the nearby cemetery. They pray for all the victims of this cruel war, who in the light of God invoke reconciliation and peace for the survivors.

8. "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God" (Mt 5:9). This is what Jesus told us in today's Gospel passage. Yes, dear Brothers and Sisters, we shall be truly blessed, if we make ourselves peacemakers of that peace that only Christ knows how to give (cf. Jn 14:27), indeed Christ himself. "Christ is our peace". We shall become peacemakers, if like him we are willing to forgive.

"Father, forgive them!" (Lk 23:34). Christ from the Cross offers forgiveness and also asks us to follow him on the arduous way of the Cross to obtain his peace. Only by accepting this invitation of his can we prevent selfishness, nationalism and violence from continuing to sow destruction and death.

Evil, in all its manifestations, constitutes a mystery of iniquity, in the face of which the voice of God, which we heard in the First Reading, rises up clear and decisive: "Thus speaks the High and Exalted . . . In high and holy place I dwell, but I am also with the oppressed and the humiliated" (Is 57:15). In these prophetic words is contained for all an invitation to a serious examination of conscience.

God is on the side of the oppressed: he is with the parents who mourn their murdered children, he listens to the helpless cry of the downtrodden, he is in solidarity with women humiliated by violence, he is close to refugees forced to leave their land and homes. He does not forget the suffering of families, the elderly, widows, young people and children. It is his people who are dying.

We must put an end to such barbarity! No more war! No more destructive fury! It is no longer possible to tolerate a situation that produces only fruits of death: killings, destroyed cities, ruined economies, hospitals lacking medicines, sick and elderly abandoned, families in tears and torn apart. A just peace must be achieved as soon as possible. Peace is possible if the priority of moral values over the claims of race or force is recognised.

9. Dear Brothers and Sisters! At this moment, together with you, I raise to the Lord the psalmist's cry: "Help us, God, our salvation, for the glory of your name, save us and forgive us our sins" (Ps 79:9).

Let us entrust this plea of ours to her who "stood" beneath the Cross silent and praying (cf. Jn 19:25). Let us look to the Blessed Virgin, whose Nativity the Church joyfully celebrates today.

It is significant that this visit of mine, long desired, has been able to take place on this Marian feast so dear to you. With Mary's birth there has blossomed in the world the hope of a new humanity no longer oppressed by selfishness, hatred, violence and the many other forms of sin that have stained the paths of history with blood. We ask Mary Most Holy that the day of full reconciliation and peace may also dawn for this land of yours.

Queen of peace, pray for us!

[Pope John Paul II, in connection with Sarajevo, 8 September 1994]

Continuing the catecheses on the ‘Lord’s Prayer’, today we shall begin with the observation that in the New Testament, the prayer seems to arrive at the essential, actually focusing on a single word: Abba, Father.

We have heard what Saint Paul writes in the Letter to the Romans: “you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the spirit of sonship. When we cry, ‘Abba, Father!’”(8:15). And the Apostle says to the Galatians: “And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ‘Abba! Father!’” (Gal 4:6). The same invocation, in which all the novelty of the Gospel is condensed, recurs twice. After meeting Jesus and hearing his preaching, a Christian no longer considers God as a tyrant to be feared; he is no longer afraid but feels trust in Him expand in his heart: he can speak with the Creator by calling him ‘Father’. The expression is so important for Christians that it is often preserved intact, in its original form: ‘Abba’.

In the New Testament it is rare for Aramaic expressions to be translated into Greek. We have to imagine that the voice of Jesus himself has remained in these Aramaic words as if ‘recorded’: they have respected Jesus’ idiom. In the first words of the ‘Our Father’ we immediately find the radical newness of Christian prayer.

It does not simply use a symbol — in this case, the father figure — to connect to the mystery of God; it is instead about having, so to speak, Jesus’ entire world poured into one’s heart. If we do this, we can truly pray the ‘Our Father’. Saying ‘Abba’ is something much more intimate, more moving than simply calling God ‘Father’. This is why someone has proposed translating this original Aramaic word ‘Abba’ with ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’. Instead of saying ‘our Father’, saying ‘Dad, Papa’. We shall continue to say ‘our Father’ but with the heart we are invited to say ‘Dad’, to have a relationship with God like that of a child with his dad, who says ‘dad’ and says ‘papa’. Indeed, these expressions evoke affection, they evoke warmth, something that casts us into the context of childhood: the image of a child completely enveloped in the embrace of a father who feels infinite tenderness for him. And for this reason, dear brothers and sisters, in order to pray properly, one must come to have a child’s heart. Not a self-sufficient heart: one cannot pray properly this way. Like a child in the arms of his father, of his dad, of his papa.

But of course the Gospels better explain the meaning of this word. What does this word mean to Jesus? The ‘Our Father’ takes on meaning and colour if we learn to pray it after having read, for example, the Parable of the Merciful Father, in Chapter 15 of Luke (cf. Lk 15:11-32). Let us imagine this prayer recited by the prodigal son, after having experienced the embrace of his father who had long awaited him, a father who does not remember the offensive words the son had said to him, a father who now simply makes him understand how much he has been missed. Thus we discover how those words become vibrant, receive strength. And let us ask ourselves: is it possible that You, O God, really know only love? Do you not know hatred? No — God would respond — I know only love.

Where in You is vengeance, the demand for justice, anger at your wounded honour? And God would respond: I know only love.

In that parable the father’s manner of conduct somehow recalls the spirit of a mother. It is especially mothers who excuse their children, who protect them, who do not suspend empathy for them, who continue to love them, even when they would no longer deserve anything.

It is enough to evoke this single expression — Abba — for Christian prayer to develop. And in his Letters, Saint Paul follows this same path, because it is the path taught by Jesus: in this invocation there is a force that draws all the rest of the prayer.

God seeks you, even if you do not seek him. God loves you, even if you have forgotten about him. God glimpses beauty in you, even if you think you have squandered all your talents in vain. God is not only a father; he is like a mother who never stops loving her little child. On the other hand, there is a ‘gestation’ that lasts forever, well beyond the nine months of the physical one; it is a gestation that engenders an infinite cycle of love.

For a Christian, praying is simply saying ‘Abba’; it is saying ‘Dad’, saying ‘Papa’, saying ‘Father’ but with a child’s trust.

It may be that we too happen to walk on paths far from God, as happened to the prodigal son; or to sink into a loneliness that makes us feel abandoned in the world; or, even to make mistakes and be paralyzed by a sense of guilt. In those difficult moments, we can still find the strength to pray, to begin again with the word ‘Abba’, but said with the tender feeling of a child: ‘Abba’, ‘Dad’. He does not hide his face from us. Remember well: perhaps one has bad things within, things he does not know how to resolve, much bitterness for having done this and that.... He does not hide His face. He does not close himself off in silence. Say ‘Father’ to Him and He will answer you. You have a father. ‘Yes, but I am a delinquent...’. But you have a father who loves you! Say ‘Father’ to him, start to pray in this way, and in the silence he will tell us that he has never lost sight of us. ‘But Father, I have done this...’. — ‘I have never lost sight of you; I have seen everything. But I have always been there, close to you, faithful to my love for you’. That will be his answer. Never forget to say ‘Father’. Thank you.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 16 January 2019]

(Mt 25:31-46)

The famous Judgment passage presents the ‘coming’ Risen (v.31) as «Son of man», that is, authentic and complete development of divine plan for humanity: his kind of "verdict" follows.

God embraces the limited condition of his creatures, so the behavior that realizes our life does not concern the religious attitude itself, but what we have had towards our fellow men.

In all ancient beliefs, the soul of the deceased was weighed on a notarial basis and judged according to the positive or negative balance.

In the opinion of the rabbis, Divine Mercy intervened in favor only when the good and bad works were balanced.

Jesus does not speak of a Court that proclaims immutable negative sentences on the whole person, but of his humanizing traits.

«Life of the Eternal» (v.46 Greek text) alludes to a kind of life that is not biological but relational and full of being, which we can already experience.

These are episodes in which our genuine DNA emerged, the Gold that inhabits us: when we knew how to respond to the needs not of God, but of life itself and of our brothers.

These are the moments in which we have been profound listeners to the nature, hope and vocation of all - sensitive to the needs of others. Opportunities that have allowed us to bring the human condition closer to the heavenly one.

Comparing the ‘works’ declared "paradigm" with those of the lists of other religions - even in ancient Egypt - we note the difference in v.36: «I was in prison and you came to me» (vv.39.43).

The difference is remarkable precisely under the criterion of divine Justice: it overlooks forensic considerations, because it creates justice where there is none.

The Father gives life in every case, because He is not “good” [as is believed in all devout persuasions] but exclusively good.

‘Righteous’ - then - did not even realize that they had done who knows what: they spontaneously corresponded to their nature as sons (v.39).

They have had sympathy for our ‘flesh’ in its reality - considering it familiar. They have loved with and like Jesus, in Him.

The others, all taken up by formalisms of no interest to God, are surprised that the Father is not all there where they had imagined Him - locked in the sentences of ordinary justice: «When we saw you [...] in prison and did not we serve you?» (v. 44).

Vocation to meet leads spontaneously to transgress divisions: legalistic, of retribution, or prejudice and kind of cult.

This is the eminent Salvation - which nestles in the direct and genuine aspect, not so much in the organized purposes; nor does it have any consistency on the basis of opinions.

We fulfill ourselves in responding to the instinctive Call that arises from our own essential (altruistic) imprint, even the slightest, ill-considered, or eccentric and shaky - not extraordinary.

Without too external conditions, it recognizes itself disseminated in the soul and in the beneficial divinizing fullness of the «Son of man».

Jesus' ultimate Teaching: eminent, global and all-human Judgement; not verdict by concept and account.

Here the Jesus’ identification with the little ones: his Person has a central meaning, which surpasses the ‘distinction’ between friends and outlaws.

The Person is now a different Subject, far richer - solid in itself, but expanding into the divine and human You, even destitute.

[Monday 1st wk. in Lent, February 23, 2026]

(Mt 25:31-46)

The famous Judgment passage presents the Risen One coming (v.31) as the "Son of Man", that is, the authentic and complete development of the divine plan for humanity: his kind of "verdict" follows.

God embraces the condition of limitation of his creatures, so the behaviour that fulfils our life is not about our religious attitude per se, but about our attitude towards our fellow human beings.

This is the evangelical call of the recent encyclical [October 2020] on fraternity and social friendship.

Aware of the situation, the Magisterium is now becoming the sting of every obvious and unimportant group spirituality, of every folklore mysticism, of every hollow, intimist, still sitting on the fence.... empty, intimist, still sitting in bedside armour.

In all ancient beliefs, the soul of the deceased was weighed on a notarial basis and judged according to its positive or negative balance.

According to the rabbis, divine mercy intervened in favour, only when good and bad deeds were balanced out.

Jesus does not speak of a tribunal that proclaims unchangeable negative judgements on the whole person, but of the traits of complete existence that - being in themselves indestructible because they are humanising - are saved and assumed, introduced into definitive existence.

"Life of the Eternal" (v.46 Greek text) alludes to a non-biological but relational kind of life and completeness of being, which we can already experience.

These are episodes in which our divine DNA, the Gold that inhabits us, has surfaced: when we have been able to respond to the needs not of God, but of life itself and of our brothers and sisters.

These are the moments when we have been deep listeners to nature, to the hope and vocation of all - sensitive to the needs of others.

Opportunities that have allowed us to bring the human condition closer to the heavenly one.

Comparing the "works" declared as "paradigm" with those in the lists of classical Judaism (Is 58:6-7) and other religions - even ancient Egypt [Book of the Dead, c.125] - we note the difference in v.36: "I was in prison and you came to me" (cf. vv.39.43).

The difference is remarkable precisely under the criterion of divine justice: it overrides forensic considerations, because it creates justice where there is none.

The Father lays down life in every case, because he is not good as is believed in all devout persuasions, but exclusively good.

The 'righteous' - then - did not even realise that they had done who knows what: they spontaneously corresponded to their innate and transparent nature as sons (v.39).

They have had sympathy for the "flesh" in the reality in which it is found - and where it is found - valuing it as family. They have loved with and like Jesus, in Him.

They have not loved for Jesus - as if the other's condition could be bracketed, and underneath considered a nuisance on which to build a fiction, albeit a sympathetic one.

The other observant people, on the other hand, all caught up in formalisms of ritual, doctrine and discipline that God does not care about, are surprised that the Father is not all there where they had imagined Him to be.

That is, respectable but empty and stagnant like them, caught up in the sentences of ordinary justice: "When did we see you [...] in prison and did not serve you?" (v.44).

The vocation to meet leads us spontaneously to transgress divisions: legalistic, of retribution, or prejudices, and gender of worship.

This is the eminent, weighty Salvation - lurking in the direct and genuine. Not so much in organised intentions; nor does it have any consistency on the basis of opinion.

We fulfil ourselves in responding to the instinctive call that arises from our own essential altruistic imprint: even minimal, ill-considered, or eccentric, shaky and unfulfilling - not extraordinary.

Without excessively external conditions, it is recognised to be disseminated in the soul and in the beneficial, divinising fullness of the 'Son of Man'.

Jesus' ultimate teaching: Distinguished, global and all-human judgement.

Not qualunquist or contraband response, to concept and account.

Jesus' identification with the little ones remains singular: "what you have done even to one of these brothers of mine, the least of these, you have done to me" (v.40).

Otherwise: "not even to me have you done" (v.45).

His Person has a central meaning, without distinction between friends and counter-legislators, between pious doers and non-doers.

Adherence to Christ is not judged on the basis of works far removed from the humanising Core.

Beautiful things that can also be accomplished without a spirit of benevolence [out of duty and culture, or even lustre and calculation] - but on love.

God is not obliged to reward merit.

Good works can also be displayed or performed against the Father: as if to bind his hands.

This is a typical misrepresentation of religions, which provide rewards for the pious. 

Misunderstanding foreign to the experience of Faith, whose only security lies in the risk of exploration, growth, and the quality of relationships - indeed, humanising relationships.

Life and death are quite distinct ['right and left': proverbially, fortune and misfortune] according to the characteristics of authentic piety towards God Himself... because His honour is reflected in the promotion of woman and man, caught in their concrete situation.

The only non-negotiable principle is service to the good of each person.

Works of love are an expression of true Communion with Christ - in this way freed from cerebral tares and mannerisms: from any kind of limitation or judgement that conditions their value.

In short, there is no need to do targeted and extraordinary, or mechanical things, but to let God act - respecting and valuing the brother for what he is.

Even outside the visible realm of the kingdom of the apostles (or a doctrine-discipline) there is authentic 'Christianity': civilisation of children.

In short, no predestination to the condemnation of the distant or errant and imperfect, except for a lack of fraternity that retrieves the impossible - even 'counter-law'.

Authentic Kingship of Christ and His own.

In Palestine, in the evening, shepherds used to separate the sheep from the goats that needed shelter from the cold.

In order to emphasise its importance, the question raised by the evangelist adopts the colourful forms of rabbinic preaching.

The question is not who is saved and who is not.

If anything, the question is: on which occasions are we willingly out in the open even at 'night', and humanise - and on which do we behave in a more belligerent, closed manner, but without becoming... lambs?

In Christ, the victory over selfishness loses its meaning of annihilation of the possibilities of individual growth - which is not achieved by stubbornness.

His power is anything but stagnant and divisive. It does not conceal the capabilities we do not see, or what we do not know.

Opposite situations are the glorious moments of the same victory. This is evident in the continuation of the passage, which proclaims the other extreme of love: "the Son of Man is delivered up to be crucified" (Mt 26:2).

Thus, the purpose of Mt is not to describe the end of the world, but to provide guidance on how to live wisely [today] in order to form a family and not to be fascinated by the immediate glitter of false jewels - even well-prepared ones.

The Recall of the Gospels insists on contrasting this with a frivolous spirituality: the only appropriate distinction.

The man of God does not satisfy the lusts of even ecclesiastical careers, and every whim.

The Tao Tê Ching (iii) suggests, addressing even the wise ruler: 'Do not exalt the most capable, do not let the people contend; do not covet the goods that are difficult to obtain, do not let the people become thieves; do not obtain what you may covet, do not let the people's heart be troubled.

Commented Master Wang Pi: "When you exalt the most capable, you give prestige to their name; the glory goes beyond their office, and they are always binge-watching, comparing their abilities. When goods are prized beyond their usefulness, the greedy rush upon them, haggling; they drill walls, break into coffers, and become thieves at the risk of their lives'.

And Master Ho-shang Kung adds, about "those whom the world judges to be excellent": "With their specious talk, they adapt themselves to the circumstances, distancing themselves from the Tao; they stick to form, rejecting substance.

The Lord's Appeal emphasises the qualitative aspects, of Person in relation: He illustrates how life is worth betting on.

This is so that all may experience fullness of being - which is not the result of opportunism.

Nor is it the result of belonging: all discrimination between 'called' in the visible Church and those far from it is suspended.

The strong images of the Gospel passage serve to make us reflect, to open our eyes, to shift the horizon, to impress on our conscience what is worth putting into play: everything, about the choices to be made.

Genuine love that moves heaven and earth is that which succeeds in making the wicked right - in the free Gift, free of conditions and forms of self-love. Even exempt from sacred evaluations.

Intuates the Tao (xxxiii): "Who does these things? Heaven and Earth [...] Those who give themselves to the Tao identify with the Tao.

The genuine arises and flourishes from the disinterested and spontaneous way, without any effort or contrived purpose.

Here man is a different Subject, far richer - firm in himself, but expanding into the divine and human You, even destitute.

"In today's Gospel page, Jesus identifies himself not only with the shepherd-king, but also with the lost sheep. We could speak of a "double identity": the king-shepherd, Jesus, also identifies himself with the sheep, that is, with the smallest and neediest brothers and sisters. And he thus indicates the criterion of the judgement: it will be taken on the basis of the concrete love given or denied to these people [...] Therefore, the Lord, at the end of the world, will review his flock, and he will do so not only on the side of the shepherd, but also on the side of the sheep, with whom he has identified himself. And he will ask: "Have you been a little shepherd like me?" [...] And we only go home with this sentence: "I was there. Thank you!" or: "You forgot about me"'".

(Pope Francis)