Integral Trust: the emblematic Action, generating the undefiled

Jn 13:1-15 (.16-20)

Let us introduce the meaning of the Lord's washing of the feet, an emblematic gesture that the Synoptics evoke in the Breaking of Bread.

In ancient Israel, the patriarchal family, clan and community were the basis of social coexistence.

They guaranteed the transmission of the identity of the people, and provided protection for the afflicted.

Defending the clan was also a concrete way of confirming the First Covenant.

But at the time of Jesus, Galilee suffered both the segregation dictated by Herod Antipas' policy and the oppression of official religiosity.

The wimpy collaborationism of the ruler had accentuated the number of homeless and unemployed.

The political and economic conjuncture forced people to retreat into material and individual problems, or those of a small family.

At one time, the identity bond of clan and community guaranteed an internal character of a solidary nation, expressed in the defence and relief given to the less fortunate of the people.

Now, this fraternal bond was weakened, plastered over, almost contradicted - also because of the strict attitude of the religious authorities, fundamentalist and lovers of a saccharine purism, opposed to mixing with the less affluent classes.

The written and oral Law ended up being used not to favour the welcoming of the marginalised and needy, but to accentuate detachment and ghettoisation.

A situation that was leading the least protected sections of the population to collapse.

In short, the alliance-loving devotion between throne and altar - instead of strengthening the sense of community, was used to accentuate hierarchies; as a weapon that legitimised a whole mentality of exclusions (and confirmed the imperial logic of divide and rule).

Jesus, on the other hand, wants to return to the Father's Dream: the ineliminable one of fraternity, the only seal to salvation history.

According to a felicitous expression of Origen, the Eucharist is the wound in Christ's side that is always open; but Vatican II did not spend a single word on the multiple Eucharistic devotions.

In order for us to fully understand his Person, the Council fathers were well aware that Jesus did not leave a statue or a relic. He preferred to express himself in a gesture, which challenges us.

In the Jewish world, in the evening each family gathered around the table, and breaking bread was the most significant moment of their experience of conviviality - and memory of the handing over of self to others.

The one bread was divided and shared among all the family members - but even a poor hungry person could come to the door, which did not have to be locked.

Bread and wine, products that had assimilated the energies of heaven and earth, were recognised with spiritual sensitivity - gifts from the Creator for the life and joy of humanity.

In that culture, bread is basic food. But our life is only complete if there is also the element of celebration: there is wine.

Even today, bread is not cut with a knife, to respect its sacredness: only broken. It contains concrete existence.

That is why Jesus chose the banquet as a sign of his Person - life, word, risky business and new happiness, given in food.

At family dinners, bread and wine were not perceived in the same way as manna, that is, as raw, natural products. Nor was it nourishment to regain strength, and that's all.

In the wheat and grapes, all the varied contributions of the domestic hearth were also gathered.

Around the table, each man saw in the bread and wine the fruit of his labour: cleaning the soil, ploughing, sowing, sowing, reaping, pruning, harvesting and pressing.

The woman captured in the bread her labour: grinding, kneading, baking. Even minors could remember something of their own, because little boys would lend themselves (e.g. draw water).

Dinner was a celebration of harmony. The table was precisely a place where young people were educated in the perception of existing in unity, rather than in disinterest.

This was done with gratitude towards God's gifts and perception of one's own contribution, which had (really) reached its goal, in the spirit of synergy and singular commitment to communion.

Contributions, resources and skills agreed to put themselves in service, for the life of all.

In the Eucharistic gesture, Jesus says: new heavens and new earth do not correspond to the world in which each one hastens to reap for himself or his circle, in order to grab the maximum of resources.

His Kingdom? All invited and brothers in agreement, none master or ruler - destined to be in front or above [though quicker than the others] even in heaven.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus with Himself but still remaining at a safe distance from Him (cf. e.g. Lk 9:10, 12) - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who are to give it to all (vv.13.16), to create abundance where there is none.

To animate the meetings on the theme of the Eucharist as a non-misleading icon, and to internalise how in the Catholic Church itself there has been a decisive evolution towards understanding the efficacy of the Sign, I use to compare two great works of art.

Raphael in the so-called Dispute of the Sacrament depicts a sacred and static world. Today we would say at a glance, almost plasticised.

An environment that seems all predictable and in any case characterised by a situated social, cultural and spiritual pattern; where everyone is placed according to origin, position, status, and rank.

Arcabas - a recently deceased French artist - paints a picture that seems devoid of exclusive, distinct and titled protagonists: as if cut above, or (better) focused on the simple gesture.

To put it eloquently: the garnish of lavish decorations or prominent roles is not about this life proposal!

In the contemporary painter's work, we grasp the sobriety of a Person and of a well-centred mission [which scratches, but makes one lose one's head far more than beautiful scripts].

For in the world of Love, the best is yet to come. In this way, we are relentlessly questioned.

Arcabas illustrates a simply laid table: a plate, certainly not from the best collection, a glass of wine with no frills; a tablecloth simply laid on the table and marked by its perfunctory folds, not even ironed, reminiscent of real everyday life.

And above all, the normal gesture of breaking bread, that of the step by step, with its crumbs that are neither fluffy nor white. To say: the Eucharistic Banquet is not for the hereafter - who knows when.

[For almost a thousand years, the Catholic Church celebrated with daily bread as the Orthodox Church still does, for example. As testimony, there are still very large dinner trays, today reduced to a saucer].

In short, here comes the 'Hour'... and the emblematic Action - in Jn, which does not formally recount the institution of the Eucharist.

Here is the meaning of breaking bread: what it entails to enter into co-existence, for the apostle overturns hierarchies and subverts the criteria of purity, uniformity, compactness, and glory.

In the Fourth Gospel, Christ proclaims only two Beatitudes:

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, there is no greater servant than his lord, nor greater sent than he that sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them" (Jn 13:16-17).

And to Thomas: "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed" (Jn 20:29b) - this, not because effort is a means to accumulate sorrows and merits, and so please God.

The two Beatitudes of Jn guarantee the tracks on which the believer finds his full realisation and the wonder of happiness: the practice of charity that recovers all the being dispersed, including others, in the adventure of Faith.

Before and during ritual meals, the pious of Israel performed ablutions with water, to celebrate the separation between the sacred and the profane, between the pure and the impure.

At the head of the table, hands were washed by a servant or the youngest of the guests.

With Jesus, tradition is shattered from within - to the amazed. 

For a Jew, washing others was something he had to refuse to do, even if enslaved, lest he dishonour the people. 

Instead, the Messiah prostrates himself and has the freedom to wash [not even his hands, but] his feet.

An absurd revelation of the Face of God, which crumbles countless mannerisms, hopes of artificial prestige; and acts of submission, grotesque acknowledgements - advanced by church princes.

Here is not only an invitation to serve one's neighbour... a gesture to imitate that proclaims the humble service character of the ministry.

It is also a sign of the purification of his own - like a new baptism that makes one immediately part of God's world.

This 'washing' is a figure of the Person and Mission of the Son on behalf of mankind, all of whom are now enabled to pass from this set-up to the Father's Kingdom.

And in the same way to pass the neighbour, the multitudes.

The Master unites a group of even unconvinced disciples to himself, but made pure - not because he aims to form a school distinct from others, or even one-sided.

He calls by Name and creates Assembly to introduce us into Love, into the passage from slavery to the freedom of the Free, which descends.

God does not identify people, nor does He superimpose His own thoughts on people's history and sensibilities.

By stooping, he crosses roles, club spirit, ideas themselves, and certificates. An initiative - this one - exemplary.

Indeed, in his Exodus, he traces the new path of the people, even of those who are against - and this baffles, it seems unacceptable. 

Peter is eager to command: he is not up to introducing himself into a logic that manifests even in community leaders a God who is a servant of men, independent of their origins, or their backgrounds.By lowering himself to the level of the slave who lays down his garments, the Lord wants to humanise us, recovering instead the opposites, rooted in a particular way and in each person.

He even admits contestation - highlighting it and healing it.

That is, unless one remains like Judas stubbornly attached to external seductions and false spiritual guides: to the clichés of social belonging-approval, and self-interest.

Finally, Jesus does not take off his apron, before putting his clothes back on: it is the only uniform that belongs to him.

That kind of dress stays with him: he wears it even in Paradise.

He does not play the part of the caretaker, to return to heaven to lord it over us. He does not condition anyone.

The Life of the Father pursues us on every path, to make us feel adequate: One-Body-Only with the Son, to whom he has delivered everything into his hands (v.3).

Total bloom for us too; indestructible, eminent, in itself devoid of occult deadly germs.

His Trust is passed on in salvation history; it is unfolded to the undecided and imperfect, his kinsmen in the Son.

Ready to lift us up to an existence that no longer extinguishes being - and us eager to make it flourish, instead of boycotting or borrowing it.

Adopted sons: not a diminution, but the distinguished recognition of an equality that does not jar.

In ancient times, when a ruler designated a successor to the throne, he not infrequently appointed as dignitary a valiant more trustworthy than his kinsman in the natural line (often scheming, spoilt, fed up with his own prosperity).

God does not force us together. By bending, it overrides the spirit of marginalisation, parties, characters; all salvation.

This is the 'service' of the disciples, to be performed with life and the proclamation of the good news: to make known that the Father is not the selective God of religion, but the unconditional lover of woman and man.

Love is communicated from peer to peer and has the same pace as life: it cannot be bridled by inherited opinions or fixed conventions, nor subjected to casuistic narratives.

Only the awareness of a freedom that remains will lead to gestures of clear-cut completeness.

Not for opportunist and individual advantage: for the sake of Joy in fullness of being and intensity of relationship.

In any external circumstance, only the esteem that the Father accords to each one leads the children and their stories towards acts of conviviality and inexplicable recoveries.

Jesus washing feet depicts the secret of the blissful life that expands the way of the I into that of the Thou: in being genuine and free even to descend, even to bend down to serve.

Without labyrinths of norms or lofty cries of principle; without compromising the most genuine spontaneity and slenderness - without yielding to mistrust of the imperfection of others.

Overriding the typical interdiction respectability, therefore without the usual rigmarole - so beloved of the owners, always distanced and apprehensive, on any front.

Herein arises frankness in the baptismal attitude... celebrating existence in all its forms, beyond boundaries; trusting in life, in its natural and opposite polarities.

Allowing for other developments and expansions. Opening one's eyes to the world - the cornerstone of new relationships, replacing one-sided customs, or external fashions.

Embracing a richer destiny; loving contradictions.

A ban on models and the exaggeration of 'capabilities'.

Rather, the search for solutions that trust, without interfering. By rediscovering its humanising nature.

Recognising diversity.

Approving, redeeming and evaluating 'pure' each particular path [the 'washed' feet of each].

To internalise and live the message:

How do you live your responsibility and personality in Christ according to vv.3-4?

After the Eucharist, do you do as Jesus did, or do you immediately lay down your apron?

Communion:

Root of being, dreaming energy that reinterprets history

Jn 13:16-20 (.21-38)

An 'envoy' is no more than the one who sends him (v.16). The new CEI translation specifies that Jesus does not elect Twelve Apostles as if they were leaders and phenomena destined to have fabulous positions.

His own are quite ordinary people, sent to proclaim; not directors provided with office, but with a humble charge: to be themselves and wash the feet of others. This is their fabric.

The ministerial Church is not that of characters with titles and roles, but of authentic service, not of manner: resigned and non-conformist.

We can only become a continuation of the Mystery that envelops the Person of Christ if we are aware that we are not dual photocopies, nor 'more' than others - let alone the Master.

In I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed), Manzoni narrates that the marquis who succeeds Don Rodrigo ('a good man, not an original') serves the guests at Renzo and Lucia's wedding table.Then, however, he withdraws to dine aloof with Don Abbondio: 'he had as much humility as it took to put himself below those good people, but not to be their equal'.

It used to be done this way: social etiquette dictated it.

A mannered style, whereby, in order to please, one accepted to adapt to (extemporary) gestures of alms and benevolence, among very good people - obviously safeguarding the protagonism of positions.

But aligning ourselves with the models does not bring us out of the usual cages; on the contrary, it hides us in the illusion of a change that in reality is not taking place, because the bogus order remains, despite the altruism of appearances - worn for the sake of good intentions.

The portent to which we are called and sent is not to make room for convenient sentiments, but to move from our external summit to the level of others and to stand elbow to elbow, to give everyone the emotion of feeling adequate.

From service to Communion: a unique climate of energy [not always 'according to etiquette' but authentically ours and dreaming] that develops flourishes, triggering impossible recoveries.

From here, we read history anew.

Yet we wonder with what energies to implement it, if at times we ourselves feel incomplete, uncertain in operating; not up to the mark.

In the context of the washing of the feet, Jesus reminds us that the disciple should have no illusions: he will not have a splendid career, worldly recognition, or less persecution from the Master as a dowry.

According to an ancient mentality, to mistreat an ambassador or messenger was to offend those he represented; to accept him was to honour him.

Here we come to the root of the unveiling mission: welcoming the sent one honours Christ, and in him God himself (v.20).

The apostles are "sent" in this sense, like the Son by the Father. Within this flow, we become a revealing light, fully, without closures.

In short, one of the ways of washing one another's feet (v.14) is precisely to come and feel properly 'sent' - picturing Jesus, and God himself, passing through us.

It is the way of blessedness (v.17) - that of the living Lord - that is the core of the "outgoing Church": adding to beautiful and practical teachings the essential dimension.

Such is the plausible and amiable path, evangelising our Roots. Who does not ask for "resilience" in relationships, only from the "inferiors" of the world.

Salvation in a divine dimension, which takes on value; operated from within the conscience which finds esteem and face, and free ferment that opens hope, orienting.

The deep being of the Friend who has the freedom to come down is expressed in the action. He reveals himself to be the promoter of the unfortunate, not the subtle prevaricator.

Making each exodus, our vocational trait carries within it a precious treasure chest, the awareness of the intimate Source of the apostolate, and its precious concatenation that transforms the past into the future.

The resulting sense of completeness and radical meaning is effective. 

It is for those who discover, encounter, feel alive, their own missionary Source - and bear witness to it.

By simply and naturally expressing himself - without forcing or artificiality - he is at the same time for the brothers to be recognised.

In short, the service of the ministerial community is not in the dimension of servitude, but of a flow of primal energies, of fabric; wave upon genuine wave.

In all of this, development after development, we re-actualise the epiphany of the Logos in Christ, in the today of being people (shaky yet convinced, tenacious) bound by a fraternal figure of weight.

"I Am" of Ex 3:14 becomes - effortlessly - the communal and welcoming People of the servants filled with self-given dignity.

The eternal element of the Word is preserved and developed by his envoys and by the ministerial, "apostolic" church: both in its original and founding character, and in its connection to the history of each individual.

To internalise and live the message:

What does it mean for you to move from serving to communion? Do you consider this an annoying excess?

Is it enough for you to make others feel good at times, as a protagonist and in a complacent manner, or do you strive to make them feel adequate?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

St John begins his account of how Jesus washed his disciples' feet with an especially solemn, almost liturgical language. "Before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end" (Jn 13: 1). Jesus' "hour", to which all his work had been directed since the outset, had come. John used two words to describe what constitutes the content of this hour: passage (metabainein, metabasis) and agape - love. The two words are mutually explanatory; they both describe the Pasch of Jesus: the Cross and the Resurrection, the Crucifixion as an uplifting, a "passage" to God's glory, a "passing" from the world to the Father. It is not as though after paying the world a brief visit, Jesus now simply departs and returns to the Father. The passage is a transformation. He brings with him his flesh, his being as a man. On the Cross, in giving himself, he is as it were fused and transformed into a new way of being, in which he is now always with the Father and contemporaneously with humankind. He transforms the Cross, the act of killing, into an act of giving, of love to the end. With this expression "to the end", John anticipates Jesus' last words on the Cross: everything has been accomplished, "It is finished" (19: 30). Through Jesus' love the Cross becomes metabasis, a transformation from being human into being a sharer in God's glory. He involves us all in this transformation, drawing us into the transforming power of his love to the point that, in our being with him, our life becomes a "passage", a transformation. Thus, we receive redemption, becoming sharers in eternal love, a condition for which we strive throughout our life.

This essential process of Jesus' hour is portrayed in the washing of the feet in a sort of prophetic and symbolic act. In it, Jesus highlights with a concrete gesture precisely what the great Christological hymn in the Letter to the Philippians describes as the content of Christ's mystery. Jesus lays down the clothes of his glory, he wraps around his waist the towel of humanity and makes himself a servant. He washes the disciples' dirty feet and thus gives them access to the divine banquet to which he invites them. The devotional and external purifications purify man ritually but leave him as he is replaced by a new bathing: Jesus purifies us through his Word and his Love, through the gift of himself. "You are already made clean by the word which I have spoken to you", he was to say to his disciples in the discourse on the vine (Jn 15: 3). Over and over again he washes us with his Word. Yes, if we accept Jesus' words in an attitude of meditation, prayer and faith, they develop in us their purifying power. Day after today we are as it were covered by many forms of dirt, empty words, prejudices, reduced and altered wisdom; a multi-facetted semi-falsity or falsity constantly infiltrates deep within us. All this clouds and contaminates our souls, threatens us with an incapacity for truth and the good. If we receive Jesus' words with an attentive heart they prove to be truly cleansing, purifications of the soul, of the inner man. The Gospel of the washing of the feet invites us to this, to allow ourselves to be washed anew by this pure water, to allow ourselves to be made capable of convivial communion with God and with our brothers and sisters. However, when Jesus was pierced by the soldier's spear, it was not only water that flowed from his side but also blood (Jn 19: 34; cf. I Jn 5: 6-8). Jesus has not only spoken; he has not left us only words. He gives us himself. He washes us with the sacred power of his Blood, that is, with his gift of himself "to the end", to the Cross. His word is more than mere speech; it is flesh and blood "for the life of the world" (Jn 6: 51). In the holy sacraments, the Lord kneels ever anew at our feet and purifies us. Let us pray to him that we may be ever more profoundly penetrated by the sacred cleansing of his love and thereby truly purified!

If we listen attentively to the Gospel, we can discern two different dimensions in the event of the washing of the feet. The cleansing that Jesus offers his disciples is first and foremost simply his action - the gift of purity, of the "capacity for God" that is offered to them. But the gift then becomes a model, the duty to do the same for one another. The Fathers have described these two aspects of the washing of the feet with the words sacramentum and exemplum. Sacramentum in this context does not mean one of the seven sacraments but the mystery of Christ in its entirety, from the Incarnation to the Cross and the Resurrection: all of this becomes the healing and sanctifying power, the transforming force for men and women, it becomes our metabasis, our transformation into a new form of being, into openness for God and communion with him. But this new being which, without our merit, he simply gives to us must then be transformed within us into the dynamic of a new life. The gift and example overall, which we find in the passage on the washing of the feet, is a characteristic of the nature of Christianity in general. Christianity is not a type of moralism, simply a system of ethics. It does not originate in our action, our moral capacity. Christianity is first and foremost a gift: God gives himself to us - he does not give something, but himself. And this does not only happen at the beginning, at the moment of our conversion. He constantly remains the One who gives. He continually offers us his gifts. He always precedes us. This is why the central act of Christian being is the Eucharist: gratitude for having been gratified, joy for the new life that he gives us.

Yet with this, we do not remain passive recipients of divine goodness. God gratifies us as personal, living partners. Love given is the dynamic of "loving together", it wants to be new life in us starting from God. Thus, we understand the words which, at the end of the washing of the feet, Jesus addresses to his disciples and to us all: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another" (Jn 13: 34). The "new commandment" does not consist in a new and difficult norm that did not exist until then. The new thing is the gift that introduces us into Christ's mentality. If we consider this, we perceive how far our lives often are from this newness of the New Testament and how little we give humanity the example of loving in communion with his love. Thus, we remain indebted to the proof of credibility of the Christian truth which is revealed in love. For this very reason we want to pray to the Lord increasingly to make us, through his purification, mature persons of the new commandment.

In the Gospel of the washing of the feet, Jesus' conversation with Peter presents to us yet another detail of the praxis of Christian life to which we would like finally to turn our attention. At first, Peter did not want to let the Lord wash his feet: this reversal of order, that is, that the master - Jesus - should wash feet, that the master should carry out the slave's service, contrasted starkly with his reverential respect for Jesus, with his concept of the relationship between the teacher and the disciple. "You shall never wash my feet", he said to Jesus with his usual impetuosity (Jn 13: 8). His concept of the Messiah involved an image of majesty, of divine grandeur. He had to learn repeatedly that God's greatness is different from our idea of greatness; that it consists precisely in stooping low, in the humility of service, in the radicalism of love even to total self-emptying.
And we too must learn it anew because we systematically desire a God of success and not of the Passion; because we are unable to realize that the Pastor comes as a Lamb that gives itself and thus leads us to the right pasture.

When the Lord tells Peter that without the washing of the feet he would not be able to have any part in him, Peter immediately asks impetuously that his head and hands be washed. This is followed by Jesus' mysterious saying: "He who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet" (Jn 13: 10). Jesus was alluding to a cleansing with which the disciples had already complied; for their participation in the banquet, only the washing of their feet was now required. But of course this conceals a more profound meaning. What was Jesus alluding to? We do not know for certain. In any case, let us bear in mind that the washing of the feet, in accordance with the meaning of the whole chapter, does not point to any single specific sacrament but the sacramentum Christi in its entirety - his service of salvation, his descent even to the Cross, his love to the end that purifies us and makes us capable of God. Yet here, with the distinction between bathing and the washing of the feet, an allusion to life in the community of the disciples also becomes perceptible, an allusion to the life of the Church. It then seems clear that the bathing that purifies us once and for all and must not be repeated is Baptism - being immersed in the death and Resurrection of Christ, a fact that profoundly changes our life, giving us as it were a new identity that lasts, if we do not reject it as Judas did. However, even in the permanence of this new identity, given by Baptism, for convivial communion with Jesus we need the "washing of the feet". What does this involve? It seems to me that the First Letter of St John gives us the key to understanding it. In it we read: "If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness" (1: 8ff.). We are in need of the "washing of the feet", the cleansing of our daily sins, and for this reason we need to confess our sins as St John spoke of in this Letter. We have to recognize that we sin, even in our new identity as baptized persons. We need confession in the form it has taken in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. In it the Lord washes our dirty feet ever anew and we can be seated at table with him.

But in this way the word with which the Lord extends the sacramentum, making it the exemplum, a gift, a service for one's brother, also acquires new meaning: "If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet" (Jn 13: 14). We must wash one another's feet in the mutual daily service of love. But we must also wash one another's feet in the sense that we must forgive one another ever anew. The debt for which the Lord has pardoned us is always infinitely greater than all the debts that others can owe us (cf. Mt 18: 21-35). Holy Thursday exhorts us to this: not to allow resentment toward others to become a poison in the depths of the soul. It urges us to purify our memory constantly, forgiving one another whole-heartedly, washing one another's feet, to be able to go to God's banquet together.

Holy Thursday is a day of gratitude and joy for the great gift of love to the end that the Lord has made to us. Let us pray to the Lord at this hour, so that gratitude and joy may become in us the power to love together with his love. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, Homily in Coena Domini 20 March 2008]

1. “I have longed to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Lk 22:15).

With these words, Christ declares the prophetic meaning of the Passover Meal which he is about to celebrate with the disciples in the Upper Room in Jerusalem.

In the First Reading from the Book of Exodus, the liturgy shows how the Passover of the Old Covenant provides the context for the Passover of Jesus. For the Israelites, the Passover was a remembrance of the meal eaten by their forefathers at the time of the Exodus from Egypt, the liberation from slavery. The sacred text prescribed that some of the lamb’s blood should be placed on the doorposts and the lintel of the houses. And it went on to stipulate how the lamb was to be eaten: “your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste... For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down all the first-born... The blood shall be a sign for you, upon the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass you by, and no plague shall fall upon you to destroy you” (Ex 12:11-13).

The blood of the lamb won for the sons and daughters of Israel liberation from the slavery of Egypt, under the leadership of Moses. The remembrance of so extraordinary an event became a festive occasion for the people, who thanked the Lord for freedom regained, a divine gift and an enduringly relevant human task: “This day will be for you a memorial day, and you shall keep it as a feast to the Lord” (Ex 12:14). It is the Passover of the Lord! The Passover of the Old Covenant!

2. “I have longed to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Lk 22:15). In the Upper Room, Christ ate the Passover Meal with his disciples in obedience to the Old Covenant prescriptions, but he gave the rite new substance. We have heard how Saint Paul explains it in the Second Reading, taken from the First Letter to the Corinthians. This text, which is thought to be the oldest account of the Lord’s Supper, recalls that Jesus, “on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ?This is my body which is [given] for you. Do this in remembrance of me’. In the same way also the cup at the end of the meal, saying, ?This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me’. For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor 11:23-26).

These are solemn words which hand on for all time the memorial of the institution of the Eucharist. Each year, on this day, we remember them as we return spiritually to the Upper Room. This evening I re-evoke them with particular emotion, because fresh in my mind and heart is the image of the Upper Room, where I had the joy of celebrating the Eucharist during my recent Jubilee pilgrimage to the Holy Land. This emotion is still stronger, because this year is the Year of the Jubilee of the two thousandth anniversary of the Incarnation. Seen in this light, our celebration this evening takes on an especially profound meaning. In the Upper Room, Jesus filled the old traditions with new meaning and foreshadowed the events of the following day, when his Body, the spotless body of the Lamb of God, was to be sacrificed and his Blood poured out for the world’s redemption. The Word took flesh precisely with this event in view, looking to the Passover of Christ, the Passover of the New Covenant!

3. “As often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (1 Cor 11:26). The Apostle urges us to make constant memorial of this mystery. At the same time, he invites us to live each day our mission as witnesses and heralds of the love of the Crucified Lord, as we await his return in glory.

But how are we to make memorial of this saving event? How are we to live as we await Christ’s return? Before instituting the Sacrament of his Body and Blood, Christ bent down and knelt, as a slave would do, to wash the disciples’ feet in the Upper Room. We watch him as he accomplishes this gesture, which in the Hebrew culture was the task of servants and the humblest persons in the household. Peter at first refuses, but the Master convinces him, and he too in the end, together with the other disciples, allows his feet to be washed. Immediately afterwards, however, clothed once more and seated at table, Jesus explains the meaning of his gesture: “You call me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you ought also wash one another’s feet” (Jn 13:12-14). These are words which link the Eucharistic mystery to the service of love, and may therefore be seen as a preparation for the institution of the ministerial priesthood.

In instituting the Eucharist, Jesus gives the Apostles a share as ministers in his priesthood, the priesthood of the new and eternal Covenant. In this Covenant, he and he alone is always and everywhere the source and the minister of the Eucharist. The Apostles in turn become ministers of this exalted mystery of faith, destined to endure until the end of the world. At the same time they become servants of all those who will share in so great a gift and mystery.

The Eucharist, the supreme Sacrament of the Church, is joined to the ministerial priesthood, which also comes to birth in the Upper Room , as the gift of the great love of the One who, knowing “that his hour had come to depart from this world to the Father [and] having loved his own who were in the world. . . loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1).

The Eucharist, the priesthood and the new commandment of love! This is the living memorial which we have before our eyes on Holy Thursday.

“Do this in memory of me”: this is the Passover of the Church! This is our Passover!

[Pope John Paul II, Homily in Coena Domini 20 April 2000]

This is touching. Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. Peter did not understand anything, he refused. But Jesus explained. Jesus - God - did this! And He Himself explains to the disciples: 'Do you understand what I have done for you? You call me the Master and the Lord, and rightly so, for I am. If therefore I, the Lord and Master, have washed your feet, you too must wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do as I have done' (Jn 13:12-15). It is the example of the Lord: He is the most important and washes the feet, because among us the one who is the highest must be at the service of others. And that's a symbol, that's a sign, isn't it? Washing feet is: 'I am at your service'. And we too, among ourselves, it is not that we must wash each other's feet every day, but what does this mean? That we must help one another. Sometimes I have been angry with one, with another ... but ... let it be, let it be, and if he asks you for a favour, do it. To help one another: this is what Jesus teaches us and this is what I do, and I do it from my heart, because it is my duty. As a priest and as a bishop I must be at your service. But it is a duty that comes from my heart: I love it. I love this and I love doing it because the Lord has taught me so. But you too, help us: always help us. Each other. And so, by helping each other, we will do each other good. Now we are going to do this ceremony of washing our feet and we think, each of us think: "Am I really willing, am I willing to serve, to help the other?" Let us only think this. And we think that this sign is a caress from Jesus, which Jesus does, because Jesus came precisely for this: to serve, to help us.

QUESTION FROM A YOUNG MAN:

Thank you Father for coming today. But I want to know one thing: why did you come here today to Casal del Marmo? Enough, just that.

ANSWER FROM THE POPE:

It's a feeling that came from the heart; I felt that. Where are those who will perhaps help me more to be humble, to be a servant as a bishop must be. And I thought, I asked: "Where are those who would like a visit?" And they told me 'Casal del Marmo, maybe'. And when they told me that, I came here. But from the heart came that alone. The things of the heart have no explanation, they only come. Thank you, eh!

FINAL SALUTES

Now I take my leave. Thank you so much for your welcome. Pray for me and do not let hope be stolen from you. Always ahead! Thank you very much!

[Pope Francis, homily during the Lord's Supper, "Casal del Marmo" Penal Institute for Minors in Rome, 28 March 2013]

(Mt 26:14-25)

Mt Mk Lk situate the institution of the Eucharist within the Jewish Passover supper. A theological re-elaboration to affirm (in the Faith) the meaning of the authentic Liberation Easter in Christ.

Compared to the Synoptics, the fourth Gospel is more in keeping with the sense of the Broken Bread: source of Life for all.

Jn places the death of the Lord at the moment in which the priests slaughtered the lambs [destined for the Passover] on the esplanade of the Temple.

The Face of Christ is that of the betrayed man.

But He lets it happen, because friends belong together - and knows: the inviolability of the loved one may not persist, even out of greed. Even at the expense of who first welcomed us.

All this happens with a sense of peaceful loss - not as a result of preordained plan, but so that the disciples reflect on their own situation.

It’s as if [to activate us] through the doubt about Judas and the whole group around, the Lord was still silently saying - precisely to us, but without moralizing: «Where are you?».

Because of the persecutions, some faithful of Mt community had allowed themselves to be intimidated and had abandoned their brothers of faith.

What attitude to adopt towards them?

The scandalous story of the first disciples’ failure opens incessant glimmers to the all times’ assemblies: the logic of the Kingdom is not affected by anything.

Wide-open doors even for those who deny and flee the Master.

Religious way without the Faith’s leap instills in sensitive people a progressive and marked sense of unworthiness: it imposes an unnerving waiting, of pressing perfections.

What counts is the splendid ability and attitude: how much person does for God.

But divine Love is not subject to conditions. Therefore, in the genuine and more reliable path, the surprise is first of all worth it: what the Lord creates for us.

He’s the Coming One, and the Subject who operates, disposes, guides - the One who reweaves again the plot. And with unexpected setbacks or leaps, He snatches us away from the insufficiency obsession.

Without this more than wise Friendship, one gives in and it can happen to sell Christ in exchange for the convictions of others, for futile junk; trivial profits, shoddy happinesses.

Jesus continues to dip the morsel in his Blood and hand it to us.

Little by little we’ll learn to stand up for his values, so that he lives through us as Bread broken and distributed.

Little by little we’ll even manage not to fall silent and not run away from the gift of life, by transmuting ourselves into humanizing Food.

The only character who instead ruins and self-destructs himself (Mt 27,5) is the one who is fully compromised with external seductions, and false spiritual guides.

To internalize and live the message:

If asked about what characterizes, do you undertake to flaunt the others’ beliefs and external or already traced out targets? Or do you unravel the freedom to be and become yourself in Christ?

[Holy Week Wednesday, April 16, 2025]

Betrayals

(Mt 26:14-25)

Mt Mk Lk situate the institution of the Eucharist within the Jewish Passover supper. A theological reworking to affirm (in Faith) the meaning of the authentic Passover of Deliverance in Christ.

Compared to the Synoptics, the Fourth Gospel is more in keeping with the meaning of the Broken Bread: the source of Life for all.

Jn 'anticipates' the Lord's death at the moment when the priests slaughtered the lambs destined for the Passover supper on the Temple esplanade.

Thus the sacrifice of the Cross - contemporary with the latter event - is rightly placed by Jn in the hours preceding the 'Passover' supper of the Synoptics.

In fact, the Lord's Supper did not originate from the popular celebration of the First Testament Exodus in April of the year 30 (Jesus was 37 years old).

No Eucharist has ever involved the typical ingredients of the Jewish Passover table, such as spices or sauces, sweet and bitter herbs, different chalices of wine and so on.

The original sense of the Master's ritual gesture with his own - which is the background to today's Gospel passage - is the joyful one of the Zebah-Todah [Lev 7:11ff: the only votive cult that could be celebrated outside the Temple in Jerusalem, at home, with friends and family].

Hence the double (common) term by which we still designate the efficacious sign that Christ left us: Communion [Zebah] and Eucharist [Thanksgiving: Todah].

Todah was a sacrifice of great praise, one of several specific kinds of the Communion sacrifice. We find several traces of it in the Eucharistic Prayer first.

The ceremonial action of Thanksgiving was intended in a very strong sense, as it celebrated Life found again, after a serious illness or an escape from death.

A good part of the Psalms - perhaps more than a third - in several places express the same final joy: the threat of life averted, and the experience of finding oneself saved together with one's loved ones, by divine Gift.

The meaning of this hymn in daily life was in fact initially also for the Catholic Church - for almost the entire first millennium (like the Orthodox Church) - celebrated with leavened bread [Lev 7:13], indicating its domestic and real value.

It traces the proper tones of such ancient worship of thanksgiving in the hearth - unfortunately, difficult to translate in the sense of the proper formulas [perceptible only to a specially trained ear, and in the original Hebrew text].

The joyful and familiar atmosphere with which the rite of Communion and Thanksgiving was celebrated seems here to be undermined by the drama of infidelity.

It is a strong call to vigilance for all of us.

Jesus handed himself over not because the Father's plan called for blood... nor that at least one would pay dearly for all.

The traits of the non-paying God have nothing to do with the point of compensation.

The Father does not need to be repaid anything.

He is not an energetic vampire, he does not demand that we live for him; quite the contrary.

And we see it in the Son, whom even Judas can dispose of. But so that he might reflect on his own condition - and so did Peter.

The Face of Christ is that of the betrayed man.

But He lets it be, because friends belong to each other - and He knows: the inviolability of a loved one may not endure, even out of greed. Even at the expense of the One who first welcomed us.

If the sense of mutual belonging falls away, then the face of the authentic Man becomes that of the sold man....

All this happens with a sense of peaceful loss - not by any preordained design, but for the disciples to reflect on their own situation, to recognise - and integrate.

It is the way by which we are educated to an awareness of our radical deficiency; to an awareness of our distance from the ideal - of the need for a path of love and genuineness, far greater than any indemnity.

A condition that of the apostles (as scrutinised in the Gospel passage) still vacuous and inattentive, or even belligerent and pre-human - prone even to trade in God, and in undefiled persons.

It is as if in order to activate us through doubt about Judas and the whole group around him, the Lord is still silently saying - precisely to us, but without moralising: "Where are you?".

Because of the persecution, some of the faithful in the community of Mt had allowed themselves to be intimidated and had abandoned their brothers in faith. What attitude to adopt towards them?

The scandalous affair of the failure of the first disciples opens unceasing glimmers for the assemblies of all times: the logic of the Kingdom is untouched by nothing.

Wide-open doors also for those who deny and flee the Master.

The religious path without the leap of Faith inculcates in sensitive people a progressive and pronounced sense of unworthiness: it imposes a nerve-wracking expectation of pressing perfection.

Wonderful skill and attitude counts: what man does for God.

But divine love is not conditional. Therefore, in the genuine and most reliable path, the surprise is first of all worth it: what the Lord creates for us.

He is the Coming One, and the Subject who works, disposes, guides - the One who retraces the plot. And with unexpected reversals or leaps it snatches away the obsession of insufficiency.

Without such free and 'guided' rather than wise Friendship, one gives in and may happen to sell Christ in exchange for fatuous fires, momentary flashes, other people's convictions, futile junk; cheap returns, shoddy happiness.

Jesus continues to dip the morsel in his Blood and hand it to us. Gradually we will learn to stand up for his values, so that he lives on through us as Bread broken and distributed.

Little by little, we even manage not to dumb down and run away from the gift of life... transmuting ourselves into Food.

The only character that instead ruins and self-destructs itself (Mt 27:5) is the one compromised to the end with external seductions, and false spiritual guides.

To internalise and live the message:

When questioned about what characterises you, do you engage in squaring other people's convictions and external or traced goals? Or do you stand for the freedom to be and become yourself in Christ?

The text by Don Mazzolari reproposed by Pope Francis

Our brother

Poor Judas. Our poor brother. The greatest of sins is not that of selling Christ; it is that of despairing. Even Peter had denied the Master; and then he looked at him and began to cry and the Lord put him back in his place: his vicar. All the apostles left the Lord and returned, and Christ forgave them and took them back with the same confidence. Do you think there would not have been room for Judas too if he had wanted to, if he had brought himself to the foot of Calvary, if he had watched him at least at a corner or turn of the road of the Cross: salvation would have come for him too. Poor Judas. A cross and a tree of a hanged man. Nails and a rope. Try to compare these two ends. You will tell me: 'One dies and the other dies'. But I would like to ask you which is the death you choose, on the cross like Christ, in the hope of Christ, or hanged, desperate, with nothing ahead. Forgive me if this evening, which should have been one of intimacy, I have brought you such painful considerations, but I also love Judas, he is my brother Judas. I will pray for him this evening too, because I do not judge, I do not condemn; I should judge me, I should condemn me. I cannot help thinking that even for Judas, God's mercy, this embrace of charity, that word friend, which the Lord said to him as he kissed him to betray him, I cannot help thinking that this word did not make its way into his poor heart. And perhaps at the last moment, remembering that word and the acceptance of the kiss, Judas too must have felt that the Lord still loved him and received him among his own. Perhaps the first apostle who entered together with the two thieves.

(Holy Thursday, 3 April 1958)

The capital of Vézelay

"It consoles me to contemplate that capital of Vézelay". This is the spiritual confidence offered by Pope Francis in his morning meditation at Santa Marta. The reference is to a medieval capital of the basilica of Vézelay, in Burgundy, dedicated to Saint Mary Magdalene, on the ancient road to Santiago de Compostela. On the very first capital, about twenty metres from the floor, on the right as you look at the altar, there is a sculpture that is striking and disconcerting. On one side you see Judas hanged, his tongue hanging out, surrounded by devils. The surprise comes from the other side of the capital: there is the Good Shepherd carrying on his shoulders the very body of Judas.

(Pope Francis, in L'Osservatore Romano 8 April 2020: https://www.osservatoreromano.va/it/news/2020-04/per-la-conversione-dei-tanti-giuda-di-oggi.html)

The question raises several theories. Some refer to the fact of his greed for money; others hold to an explanation of a messianic order: Judas would have been disappointed at seeing that Jesus did not fit into his programme for the political-militaristic liberation of his own nation.

In fact, the Gospel texts insist on another aspect: John expressly says that "the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him" (Jn 13: 2). Analogously, Luke writes: "Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was of the number of the twelve" (Lk 22: 3).

In this way, one moves beyond historical motivations and explanations based on the personal responsibility of Judas, who shamefully ceded to a temptation of the Evil One.

The betrayal of Judas remains, in any case, a mystery. Jesus treated him as a friend (cf. Mt 26: 50); however, in his invitations to follow him along the way of the beatitudes, he does not force his will or protect it from the temptations of Satan, respecting human freedom.

In effect, the possibilities to pervert the human heart are truly many. The only way to prevent it consists in not cultivating an individualistic, autonomous vision of things, but on the contrary, by putting oneself always on the side of Jesus, assuming his point of view. We must daily seek to build full communion with him.

Let us remember that Peter also wanted to oppose him and what awaited him at Jerusalem, but he received a very strong reproval: "You are not on the side of God, but of men" (Mk 8: 33)!

After his fall Peter repented and found pardon and grace. Judas also repented, but his repentance degenerated into desperation and thus became self-destructive.

For us it is an invitation to always remember what St Benedict says at the end of the fundamental Chapter Five of his "Rule": "Never despair of God's mercy". In fact, God "is greater than our hearts", as St John says (I Jn 3: 20).

Let us remember two things. The first: Jesus respects our freedom. The second: Jesus awaits our openness to repentance and conversion; he is rich in mercy and forgiveness.

Besides, when we think of the negative role Judas played we must consider it according to the lofty ways in which God leads events. His betrayal led to the death of Jesus, who transformed this tremendous torment into a space of salvific love by consigning himself to the Father (cf. Gal 2: 20; Eph 5: 2, 25).

The word "to betray" is the version of a Greek word that means "to consign". Sometimes the subject is even God in person: it was he who for love "consigned" Jesus for all of us (Rm 8: 32). In his mysterious salvific plan, God assumes Judas' inexcusable gesture as the occasion for the total gift of the Son for the redemption of the world.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 18 October 2006]

1. With last Sunday, Palm Sunday, we entered the week which is called "holy" because in it we commemorate the principal events of our redemption. The heart of this week is the Triduum of the Passion and Resurrection of the Lord, who, as we read in the Roman Missal, "redeemed mankind and gave perfect glory to God principally through his paschal mystery: by dying he destroyed our death and by rising he restored our life. The Easter Triduum of the Passion and Resurrection of Christ is thus the culmination of the entire liturgical year" (General Norms for the Liturgical Year and the Calendar, n. 18). In the history of humanity there is no event more significant or of greater value. At the end of Lent, we are thus preparing to live fervently the days most important for our faith, and we intensify our commitment to follow Christ, Redeemer of man, with ever greater fidelity.

2. Holy Week leads us to meditate on the meaning of the Cross, in which "the revelation [of God's] merciful love attains its culmination" (cf. Dives in misericordia, n. 8). The theme of this third year of immediate preparation for the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, dedicated to the Father, encourages us most particularly to reflect on this. His infinite mercy has saved us. In order to redeem humanity, he freely gave his Onlybegotten Son. How can we not thank him? History is illumined and guided by the incomparable event of the Redemption: God, rich in mercy, poured out his infinite goodness on every human being through Christ's sacrifice. How can we find an adequate way to express our gratitude? If, on the one hand, the liturgy of these days makes us offer a hymn of thanksgiving to the Lord, conqueror of death, at the same time it asks us to eliminate from our lives all that prevents us from conforming ourselves to him. We contemplate Christ in faith and re-examine the crucial points of the salvation he wrought. We recognize that we are sinners and confess our ingratitude, our infidelity and our indifference to his love. We need his forgiveness to purify us and sustain us in the commitment to interior conversion and a persevering renewal of our spirit.

3. "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!" (Ps 51 [50]:1, 2). These words, which we proclaimed on Ash Wednesday, have accompanied us throughout our Lenten journey. They resound in our spirit with unique intensity in the imminence of the holy days, during which the extraordinary gift of the forgiveness of our sins, obtained for us by Jesus on the Cross, is renewed for us. Before the crucified Chist, an eloquent reminder of God's mercy, how can we not repent of our own sins and be converted to love? How can we not concretely repair the damage we have caused others and return goods acquired dishonestly? Forgiveness requires concrete actions: repentance is true and effective only when it is expressed in tangible acts of conversion and the proper reparation.

4. "Lord, in your great love, answer me!". Thus we are prompted to pray by today's liturgy for Wednesday of Holy Week, totally intent on the saving events we will be commemorating in the next few days. Today, as we proclaim Matthew's Gospel about the Passover and Judas' betrayal, we are already thinking of the solemn Mass "in Cena Domini" tomorrow afternoon, which will recall the institution of the priesthood and the Eucharist, as well as the "new" commandment of fraternal love which the Lord left us on the eve of his death.

This evocative celebration will be preceded tomorrow morning by the Chrism Mass at which the Bishop presides, surrounded by his priests. The sacred oils for Baptism, the Anointing of the Sick and Chrism are blessed. In the evening, then, when the Mass "in Cena Domini" is over, there will be a time of adoration, in response as it were to Jesus' invitation to his disciples on the tragic night of his agony: "remain here, and watch with me" (Mt 26:38).

Good Friday is a day of great emotion, on which the Church will have us listen once again to the account of Christ's Passion. The "veneration" of the Cross will be the centre of the liturgy celebrated on that day, while the ecclesial community prays intensely for the needs of believers and of the whole world.

A moment of deep silence follows. Everything will remain quiet until the night of Holy Saturday. Joy and light will burst into the darkness with the evocative rites of the Easter Vigil and the festive singing of the Alleluia. It will be an encounter in faith with the risen Christ and our Easter joy will be prolonged throughout the 50 days that follow.

5. Dear brothers and sisters, let us prepare ourselves to relive these events with deep fervour together with Mary most holy, present at every moment of her Son's Passion and a witness to his Resurrection. A Polish hymn says: "Blessed Mother, we raise our cry to your heart pierced by the sword of sorrow!". Mary, accept our prayers and the sacrifices of those who are suffering; strengthen our Lenten resolutions and accompany us as we follow Jesus at the time of his ultimate trial. Christ, tortured and crucified, is the source of strength and sign of hope for all believers and for all humanity.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 31 March 1999]

«Preghiamo oggi per la gente che, in questo tempo di pandemia, fa commercio con i bisognosi; approfittano della necessità degli altri e li vendono: i mafiosi, gli usurai e tanti. Che il Signore tocchi il loro cuore e li converta». Non è ricorso a giri di parole Papa Francesco, mercoledì mattina, 8 aprile, all’inizio della messa celebrata nella cappella di Casa Santa Marta e trasmessa in diretta streaming. Invitando poi, nell’omelia, a guardare ai tanti «Giuda istituzionalizzati» di oggi che, in diversi modi, sfruttano e vendono le persone, familiari compresi. Ma anche al «piccolo Giuda» che è in ciascuno, pronto a tradire per interesse.

«Mercoledì Santo è chiamato anche “mercoledì del tradimento”, il giorno nel quale si sottolinea nella Chiesa il tradimento di Giuda», ha spiegato il Papa dando il via alla sua meditazione. Il passo del Vangelo di Matteo (26, 14-25), proposto dalla liturgia, ricorda proprio che «Giuda vende il Maestro».

In realtà, «quando noi pensiamo al fatto di vendere gente — ha fatto presente il Pontefice — viene alla mente il commercio fatto con gli schiavi dall’Africa per portarli in America: una cosa vecchia». E ci sembra una «cosa lontana» anche «il commercio, per esempio, delle ragazze yazide vendute a Daesh».

Però «anche oggi si vende gente, tutti i giorni» ha affermato Francesco. Anche oggi, dunque, «ci sono dei Giuda che vendono i fratelli e le sorelle: sfruttandoli nel lavoro, non pagando il giusto, non riconoscendo i doveri».

«Anzi, vendono tante volte le cose più care» ha rilanciato il Papa, confidando di pensare «che, per essere più comodo, un uomo è capace di allontanare i genitori e non vederli più; metterli al sicuro in una casa di riposo e non andare a trovarli». Si «vende» senza scrupoli.

A questo proposito il Pontefice ha ricordato che «c’è un detto molto comune che, parlando di gente così, dice che “questo è capace di vendere la propria madre”: e la vendono». Come a dire: «Adesso sono tranquilli, sono allontanati: “Curateli voi”».

«Oggi il commercio umano — ha insistito Francesco — è come ai primi tempi: si fa. E questo perché? Perché: Gesù lo ha detto. Lui ha dato al denaro una signorìa. Gesù ha detto: “Non si può servire Dio e il denaro”, due signori» (cfr. Luca 16, 13). Ed «è l’unica cosa — ha fatto notare — che Gesù pone all’altezza e ognuno di noi deve scegliere: o servi Dio, e sarai libero nell’adorazione e nel servizio; o servi il denaro, e sarai schiavo del denaro».

«Questa è l’opzione», ma «tanta gente vuole servire Dio e il denaro e questo non si può fare» ha puntualizzato il Papa. Tanto che, «alla fine, fanno finta di servire Dio per servire il denaro». Si tratta degli «sfruttatori nascosti che sono socialmente impeccabili, ma sotto il tavolo fanno il commercio, anche con la gente: non importa. Lo sfruttamento umano è vendere il prossimo».

«Giuda se n’è andato — ha proseguito il Pontefice — ma ha lasciato dei discepoli, che non sono suoi discepoli ma del diavolo». Del resto, «com’è stata la vita di Giuda noi non lo sappiamo. Un ragazzo normale, forse, e anche con inquietudini, perché il Signore lo ha chiamato a essere discepolo». Però «lui mai è riuscito a esserlo: non aveva bocca di discepolo e cuore di discepolo come abbiamo letto nella prima lettura» ha rimarcato Francesco, facendo riferimento al passo tratto da libro del profeta Isaia (50, 4-9).

Insomma, Giuda «era debole nel discepolato, ma Gesù lo amava». In realtà, ha aggiunto il Papa, «il Vangelo ci fa capire che» a Giuda «piacevano i soldi: a casa di Lazzaro, quando Maria unge i piedi di Gesù con quel profumo così costoso, lui fa la riflessione e Giovanni sottolinea: “Ma non lo dice perché amava i poveri: perché era ladro”» (cfr. Giovanni 12, 6).

E così «l’amore al denaro lo aveva portato fuori dalle regole: a rubare, e da rubare a tradire c’è un passo piccolino» ha affermato il Pontefice. «Chi ama troppo i soldi — ha aggiunto — tradisce per averne di più, sempre: è una regola, è un dato di fatto». Ed ecco che «il Giuda ragazzo, forse buono, con buone intenzioni, finisce traditore al punto di andare al mercato a vendere: “Andò dai capi dei sacerdoti e disse: ‘Quanto volete darmi perché io ve lo consegni’”, direttamente?» (cfr. Matteo 26, 14).

«A mio avviso, quest’uomo era fuori di sé» ha spiegato Francesco. «Una cosa che attira la mia attenzione — ha confidato — è che Gesù mai gli dice “traditore”; dice che sarà tradito, ma non dice a lui “traditore”. Mai gli dice “vai via, traditore”. Mai! Anzi, gli dice “amico” e lo bacia».

Siamo davanti al «mistero di Giuda: com’è il mistero di Giuda? Don Primo Mazzolari l’ha spiegato meglio di me» ha affermato il Papa ricordando l’omelia — di cui riportiamo uno stralcio in questa pagina — che il parroco di Bozzolo pronunciò il Giovedì santo del 1958. «Sì, mi consola — ha proseguito — contemplare quel capitello di Vèzelay: come finì Giuda? Non so. Gesù minaccia forte, qui; minaccia forte: “Guai a quell’uomo dal quale il Figlio dell’uomo viene tradito! Meglio per quell’uomo se non fosse mai nato!”» scrive Giovanni nel suo Vangelo. «Ma questo vuol dire che Giuda è all’Inferno? Non so. Io guardo il capitello. E sento la parola di Gesù: “Amico”» ha detto Francesco.

Tutto «questo — ha affermato — ci fa pensare a un’altra cosa, che è più reale, più di oggi: il diavolo entrò in Giuda, è stato il diavolo a condurlo a questo punto. E come finì la storia? Il diavolo è un mal pagatore: non è un pagatore affidabile. Ti promette tutto, ti fa vedere tutto e alla fine ti lascia solo nella tua disperazione ad impiccarti».

«Il cuore di Giuda», ha fatto presente Francesco, è «inquieto, tormentato dalla cupidigia e tormentato dall’amore a Gesù». È «un amore che non è riuscito a farsi amore». Così Giuda, «tormentato con questa nebbia, torna dai sacerdoti chiedendo perdono, chiedendo salvezza». Ma si sente rispondere: «Cosa c’entriamo noi? È cosa tua». Infatti «il diavolo parla così e ci lascia nella disperazione».

Concludendo la meditazione il Pontefice ha invitato a pensare «a tanti Giuda istituzionalizzati in questo mondo, che sfruttano la gente». Ma ha chiesto di pensare «anche al “piccolo Giuda” che ognuno di noi ha dentro di sé nell’ora di scegliere: fra lealtà o interesse». Con la consapevolezza che ciascuno «ha la capacità di tradire, di vendere, di scegliere per il proprio interesse. Ognuno di noi ha la possibilità di lasciarsi attirare dall’amore dei soldi o dei beni o del benessere futuro». Insomma: «Giuda, dove sei?» è una domanda che Francesco suggerisce di porre a se stessi: «Tu, Giuda, il “piccolo Giuda” che ho dentro: dove sei?».

È poi con la preghiera del cardinale Rafael Merry del Val che il Papa ha invitato «le persone che non possono comunicarsi» a fare la comunione spirituale. E ha concluso la celebrazione con l’adorazione e la benedizione eucaristica. Per sostare infine in preghiera davanti all’immagine mariana nella cappella di Casa Santa Marta, accompagnato dal canto dell’antifona Ave Regina Caelorum.

Il testo di don Mazzolari riproposto dal Papa nell’omelia

Nostro fratello

Povero Giuda. Povero fratello nostro. Il più grande dei peccati, non è quello di vendere il Cristo; è quello di disperare. Anche Pietro aveva negato il Maestro; e poi lo ha guardato e si è messo a piangere e il Signore lo ha ricollocato al suo posto: il suo vicario. Tutti gli apostoli hanno abbandonato il Signore e son tornati, e il Cristo ha perdonato loro e li ha ripresi con la stessa fiducia. Credete voi che non ci sarebbe stato posto anche per Giuda se avesse voluto, se si fosse portato ai piedi del calvario, se lo avesse guardato almeno a un angolo o a una svolta della strada della Via Crucis: la salvezza sarebbe arrivata anche per lui. Povero Giuda. Una croce e un albero di un impiccato. Dei chiodi e una corda. Provate a confrontare queste due fini. Voi mi direte: “Muore l’uno e muore l’altro”. Io però vorrei domandarvi qual è la morte che voi eleggete, sulla croce come il Cristo, nella speranza del Cristo, o impiccati, disperati, senza niente davanti. Perdonatemi se questa sera che avrebbe dovuto essere di intimità, io vi ho portato delle considerazioni così dolorose, ma io voglio bene anche a Giuda, è mio fratello Giuda. Pregherò per lui anche questa sera, perché io non giudico, io non condanno; dovrei giudicare me, dovrei condannare me. Io non posso non pensare che anche per Giuda la misericordia di Dio, questo abbraccio di carità, quella parola amico, che gli ha detto il Signore mentre lui lo baciava per tradirlo, io non posso pensare che questa parola non abbia fatto strada nel suo povero cuore. E forse l’ultimo momento, ricordando quella parola e l’accettazione del bacio, anche Giuda avrà sentito che il Signore gli voleva ancora bene e lo riceveva tra i suoi di là. Forse il primo apostolo che è entrato insieme ai due ladroni.

(Giovedì Santo, 3 aprile 1958)

Il capitello di Vézelay

«Mi consola contemplare quel capitello di Vézelay». È la confidenza spirituale offerta da Papa Francesco nella sua meditazione mattutina a Santa Marta. Il riferimento è a un capitello medievale della basilica di Vézelay, in Borgogna, dedicata a Santa Maria Maddalena, sull’antica via per Santiago de Compostela. Proprio sul primo capitello, a circa venti metri dal pavimento, a destra guardando l’altare, c’è una scultura che colpisce e sconcerta. Da un lato si vede Giuda impiccato, con la lingua di fuori, circondato dai diavoli. La sorpresa arriva dall’altro lato del capitello: c’è il Buon Pastore che porta sulle spalle proprio il corpo di Giuda.

[Papa Francesco, in L’Osservatore Romano 8 aprile 2020: https://www.osservatoreromano.va/it/news/2020-04/per-la-conversione-dei-tanti-giuda-di-oggi.html]

(Jn 13:21-33.36-38)

«I will lay down my life for you» - just to command.

The Lord wants each of us “at the table” to ask himself the question of whether by chance we are involved in some betrayal.

Not to blame and plant ourselves there, but to meet us: each one is an admirer ‘and’ opponent of the Master.

We are brilliance ‘and’ darkness - coexistent hips, more or less integrated; also competitive ones.

Aspects that can turn as baby foods, for each new ‘genesis’ - which once emerged can become strengths.

The road is blocked only in front of the person who continues to be conditioned. Nothing is revealed there; the prodigy of the transmutation of our abyss will not take place.

The liturgy of the Word puts in contact with a Jesus pervaded by a sense of weakness; his loneliness becomes acute.

On mission, we too are sometimes at the mercy of despondency: perhaps God has deceived us, dragging us into an absurd enterprise?

No, we are not engaged and abandoned to an ignoble logic, to a perverse generation: the force of Life itself is littered with ‘tombstones’ and has various faces. Beneficial influxes.

The favourable path is devoid of prestige, of recognised tasks and majesty: they tend to placate us, and not to dig.

Often it’s precisely the ailments that improve judgment.

The trickle of problems can elicit the Voice of the most authentic part of ourselves; become an incisive ‘echo’ to find and complete ourselves - bringing forward the pioneering heart, instead of holding it back.

The road of trial and imbalance rouses us from the harmful ageing of the spirit. It recovers contrary energies, the opposite sides, the incompatible desires, the passions [allied] to which we have not given space.

Even in the torturous experience of the limit, God wants to reach out our variegated ‘seed’, so that it does not allow itself to be plundered - not even by the dismay of having taken the «morsel» together and being the traitors.

Nothing is invalidating.

There is only one toxic, chronic, death ambit that annihilates everything and has no active germs inherent in it: that which obscures and detests primary change.

There the horizon narrows and only an abyss remains - or the bland that infects to make us give up and retreat.

Finally, only fears remain, the half-choices, the neuroses silenced by compromise that tries to fill the precious sense of emptiness.

The story of incomprehensible solitude of Christ alongside the traitor and the renegade is written in our hearts. It’s all reality - but for salvation, for a renewed intimacy and conviction.

The missionary vocation is extinguished and stagnates only due to the weight of calculation and common mentality - where naked poverty of the being discordant that we are doesn’t engrave (nor clink).

Without abandonment suffered, man doesn’t become universal, on the contrary he tends to attenuate the best instruments of God’s power.

On that steppe ground the Lord is giving us the friendship of a gaze’ shift.

Without the restlessness of profound and humiliating disturbance, without the surrendering of one's humanity - in extreme weakness - our dissatisfied puppet lingers, contenting itself.

Despite the admiration for values, it too becomes a residual larva. A caricature of the being we might have become: women and men with a contemplative eye.

Complete ones from within, like Jesus.

[Holy Tuesday, April 15, 2025]