23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [7 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! In this Sunday's Gospel, Jesus develops the 'precautionary principle', which is also enshrined in Article 191 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU). This proves that the Word of God is divine wisdom which, as we understand in the first reading and in the responsorial psalm, illuminates every human choice and decision.  Wisdom that is always the secret of true happiness.

*First Reading from the Book of Wisdom (9:13-18)

Wisdom, in the biblical sense, is in some ways the art of living. Israel, like all neighbouring peoples, developed extensive reflection on this theme beginning with the reign of Solomon, and its contribution in this field is entirely original. It can be summarised in two points: first of all, according to the Bible, only God knows the secrets of happiness, and if man claims to discover them on his own, he follows false paths, as is clear from the lesson of the Garden of Eden. Secondly, God alone reveals the secret of happiness to his people and to all humanity: this is the message of this text, which is above all a lesson in humility. Isaiah had already stated that God's thoughts and ways are different from ours (cf. Is 55:8), and the book of Wisdom, written much later in a very different style, repeats: 'Who can discover the will of God? Who can imagine what the Lord wants?" (v. 13). We cannot have the slightest idea of what God thinks, and we know only what He has communicated through His prophets. Job had asked where to seek wisdom, because it does not exist on the earth of the living, and only God knows where it is (cf. Job 28:12-13, 23); shortly afterwards, God reminds Job of his limitations (chapters 38–41) and, at the end of the demonstration, Job bows down and admits that he spoke without understanding  the wonders that "are beyond me and that I did not know" (Job 42:3). In the Book of Wisdom, the discussion on human knowledge develops among the most intellectual minds that existed in Alexandria, when scientific and philosophical disciplines were highly developed and the Library of Alexandria was famous. The author reminds these scholars of the limits of human knowledge: 'The reasoning of mortals is timid, and our reflections are uncertain' (v. 14). And again: 'We can scarcely imagine the things of the earth, we discover with difficulty those within our reach; but who has investigated the things of heaven? (v. 16). The author does not mean that if we can discover the earth, we will be able to understand heavenly things, but he affirms that it is not only a question of the level of knowledge, as if man could discover the mysteries of God through reasoning and research, but it is a question of nature: we are only human, and there is an abyss between God and us, God being the Totally Other and his thoughts being beyond our reach. Herein lies the second lesson of the text: if we recognise our powerlessness, God himself reveals to us what we cannot discover on our own, giving us the gift of his Spirit (cf. 1:9). The other readings for this Sunday indicate the new behaviours inspired by the Spirit who dwells in us. One more observation: in verse 14, 'a corruptible body weighs down the soul, and the clay tent oppresses a mind full of worries', we see a conception of man that is unusual in the Bible, which usually insists on the unity of the human being, whereas here he is described as a being composed of an immaterial spirit and a material shell that contains it. The Book of Wisdom, written in a Greek context, uses this vocabulary so as not to scandalise its Greek readers, but it certainly does not want to describe a dualism of the human being: rather, it presents the inner struggle that takes place in each of us and which St Paul describes as follows: 'I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want' (Rom 7:19). Ultimately, this text makes an original contribution to a great dual biblical discovery: God is both Totally Other and Totally Near. God is Totally Other: 'Who can know the will of God? Who can imagine what the Lord wants?' (v. 13). At the same time, He makes Himself Totally Near by giving man wisdom and His Holy Spirit (v. 17). And so men were instructed in what is pleasing to God and were saved through wisdom (cf. v. 18).

*Responsorial Psalm (89/90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17)

The first reading, taken from the book of Wisdom, is echoed in this psalm, which offers a magnificent definition of wisdom: 'Teach us to count our days, and we will gain a wise heart' (v. 12). These verses give an idea of the general atmosphere, and one expression sounds quite unusual: 'Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants' (v. 13). It is as if to say: 'We are unhappy at this moment, we are being punished for our sins; forgive us and take away the punishment', a typical formula of a penitential liturgy in the context of a penitential ceremony in the temple of Jerusalem. Why does Israel ask for forgiveness? The first verses suggest the answer: 'You turn man back to dust, when you say: Return, children of man' (v. 3).  The problem is that our condition as sinners is linked to Adam, and the entire psalm meditates on the account of Adam's sin in the book of Genesis. In the beginning, God and man stood face to face: God, the creator, and man, his creature made from dust. The second verse (absent here) of the psalm says precisely: 'Before the mountains were born and the earth and the world were created, from everlasting to everlasting, you are God'. Before Him, we are but a handful of dust in His hands. Yet man dared to challenge God and can only meditate on his true condition: "The years of our life are seventy, eighty for the strongest, and their bustling is toil and disappointment; they pass quickly and we fly away" (v. 10).  And we are truly small: "A thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, like a watch in the night" (v. 4), as St Peter comments: "Do not ignore this one fact, beloved: with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day" (2 Pet 3:8). After this realisation comes the plea: “Teach us to count our days, that we may gain a wise heart. Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days” (vv. 12-14). True wisdom is to remain small before God, and the psalm compares human life to grass that “in the morning it flourishes and sprouts, in the evening it is mown and withers” (v. 6). How often, when faced with sudden death, do we say that we are nothing! It is not a matter of humbling ourselves, but of being realistic and remaining serene in God’s hands. 'Satisfy us in the morning with your love: we will exult and rejoice all our days' (v. 14): this is the experience of the believer, aware of his own smallness and trusting in the hands of God, to whom we can ask that 'you make known to your servants your work and your splendour to their children. May the goodness of the Lord our God be upon us" (vv. 16-17a). Even more daring is the last verse of the psalm, which repeats twice, "Make firm the work of our hands" (v. 17). Perhaps the psalmist was referring to the reconstruction of the temple in Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile, amid all kinds of opposition. More generally, however, it expresses the common work of God and man in the fulfilment of creation: man works in creation, but it is God who gives human work stability and effectiveness. 

*Second Reading from the letter of St Paul the Apostle to Philemon (9b-10.12-17)

On previous Sundays, we read passages from Paul's letter to the Colossians; today, however, Paul, while in prison, writes to Philemon, a Christian from Colossae (in Turkey), and it is a personal letter, full of diplomacy, on a very delicate subject. Philemon probably had several slaves, although history does not specify this, and one of them was called Onesimus. One fine day, Onesimus ran away, which was totally forbidden and severely punished by Roman law because slaves belonged to their masters as objects and were not free to dispose of themselves. During his escape, Onesimus met Paul, converted and entered the apostle's service. It was a complicated situation: if Paul kept Onesimus, he would be complicit in his abandonment of his post, and Philemon would not like that. If, on the other hand, Paul sent him back, the slave would be at serious risk, as Paul acknowledges later in the letter that Onesimus was indebted to his master. However, he decided to send Onesimus back with a request for forgiveness, in which he used all his powers of persuasion to convince Philemon: 'I, Paul, as I am, an old man and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus, appeal to you for my child Onesimus' (vv. 9-10). He points out that he would like to keep him, but he knows that the final decision rests with Philemon (vv. 12-14), so he does not intend to force Philemon's hand. However, he knows exactly what he wants to achieve and reveals it gradually. First of all, he asks Philemon to forgive Onesimus for running away, and more than simple forgiveness, Paul suggests a true conversion: Onesimus is baptised and is now a brother to Philemon, a Christian and his former master: "For this reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave, but much more than a slave, as a beloved brother" (vv. 15-16). Paul goes even further: "If you consider me a friend, welcome him as you would welcome me" (v. 17).

*From the Gospel according to Luke (14:25-33)

The ending illuminates the whole discourse: emphasising totality (the renunciation of all his possessions, v. 33), Luke re-proposes his theology of poverty as radical discipleship of Christ. Let us begin with the phrase concerning family ties (v. 26): Jesus does not say to consider them as nothing, because that would be contrary to all his teaching on love and to the commandment "Honour your father and your mother". Rather, he means that these ties are good, but they must not become obstacles that prevent us from following Christ because the bond that unites us to Christ through Baptism is stronger than any other earthly bond. The difficulty of this Gospel lies elsewhere: at first glance, the connection between the different parts is not clear. Jesus says: "If anyone comes to me and does not love me (in Eastern Semitic language, 'to hate' also means 'to love less') more than his father, his mother... he cannot be my disciple" (v. 26), a phrase that we find echoed (included) in the last one: "Anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple". Between these two statements there are two short parables: that of the man who wants to build a tower and that of the king who goes to war. Their lesson is similar: whoever wants to build a tower must first calculate the cost so as not to embark on a senseless undertaking; in the same way, the king who plans to go to war must first assess his forces. Wisdom consists in adapting one's ambitions to one's possibilities: a truth that applies in every area. How many projects fail because they are started too hastily without reflection, foresight and calculation of the risks? This is elementary wisdom, the secret of success. In fact, to govern is to foresee, and perhaps one becomes an adult on the day one finally learns to calculate the consequences of one's actions. But does this not seem to contradict the message of the phrases that open and close Jesus' discourse? These seem to speak a language that is anything but prudent and measured: first of all, to be a disciple of Christ, one must prefer him to anyone else and follow him with all one's heart, yet wisdom and even justice require respect for natural ties with family and environment. The second requirement is to carry one's cross decisively, accepting the risk of persecution, and the third condition is to renounce all one's possessions. In short, to leave behind all emotional and material security for Christ. But is all this prudent? Does it not seem far removed from the arithmetic calculations of the two short parables? Yet it is clear that Jesus does not enjoy cultivating paradoxes and does not contradict himself. It is therefore up to us to understand his message and how the two short parables shed light on the choices we must make in order to follow him. On closer inspection, Jesus always says the same thing: before embarking on an undertaking, whether it be following him, building a tower or going to war, he invites us to do our sums carefully and not to make mistakes. Those who build a tower calculate the cost; those who go to war assess the number of men and weapons; and those who follow Christ must also do their calculations, but of a different kind: they must renounce anything that might hinder them and thus place all their riches, both emotional and material, at the service of the Kingdom. Above all, they must rely on the power of the Spirit who 'continues his work in the world and brings every sanctification to completion', as the fourth Eucharistic prayer says. Here too, it is a calculated risk: in order to follow Jesus, he points out the risks to us — knowing how to leave everything behind, accepting misunderstanding and sometimes persecution, renouncing immediate gratification. To be Christians, the true calculation, the true wisdom, is not to rely on any of our earthly securities; it is as if he were saying to us: Accept that you have no securities: my grace is enough for you! Already the first reading, taken from the book of Wisdom, clearly stated this: the wisdom of God is not that of men; what appears to be folly in the eyes of men is the only true wisdom before God. With him, we are always in the logic of the grain of wheat: accept to die underground, but only in this way can it sprout and bear fruit. Blessed are those who know how to free themselves from false precautions in order to prepare themselves to pass through the narrow gate mentioned in the Gospel of the twenty-first Sunday (Lk 13:24). 

NOTE Jesus develops here the 'precautionary principle' which is also enshrined in Article 191 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU). In the two parables, it is clear that we must sit down to calculate risks and costs, taking preventive measures - even in the absence of complete scientific evidence. In the case of the disciple, the data for the calculation are completely different: Jesus wants us to evaluate well that our only wealth is in him and our only strength is his grace. And even the assessment of risks and objectives eludes us: as the Book of Wisdom says in the first reading: 'Who can know the will of God? Who can imagine what the Lord wants? The reasoning of mortals is timid and our reflections uncertain'.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

A look into the «darkness».

As I have already mentioned, many poets and writers have described the flow of the human soul.

Eugenio Montale expresses this in one of his poems from 1925, on the pain of living, providing us with the image of a stream that cannot flow, a leaf crumpled by excessive heat, a horse exhausted on the ground.

These are images that linger in our minds, leaving us with food for thought and questions to ponder.

There have been moments of 'darkness' in our lives, and perhaps there will be more.

Feelings of discouragement and not knowing which path to take - each of us has experienced this first-hand.

The intensity and duration of the 'darkness' vary depending on the circumstances and our personal ability to react.

We react differently to defeat or disappointment; what upsets one person may leave another completely indifferent.

An encounter with 'darkness' can be common when faced with serious difficulties such as bereavement, loss of employment, the onset of illness, the end of a relationship, and so on.

This state of mind is temporary and ends spontaneously, without bringing about changes in a person's life.

In other cases, it is important not to underestimate this state of mind, as it could be a sign of psychosomatic or psychological distress.

In these cases, we often experience inexplicable feelings of worry and apathy, and we feel more fatigued.

Let us remember that the reaction to 'darkness' often follows a traumatic experience, which in ordinary circumstances would not have caused any temporary feelings of low mood.

A more severe and prolonged reaction, one that the individual cannot overcome on their own, is an unusual condition.

In older people, emotional shocks can trigger moments of 'darkness' more easily than in younger people.

Sometimes older people are marginalised, have fewer social relationships, and often suffer a loss of prestige, especially when they lose hope.

But even adolescents [with their precariousness] are not immune to these moments of unease.

It is not true that adolescence is a happy time of life; on the contrary, it is perhaps one of the most troubled.

In these moments of 'darkness', which clinicians call «depression», we notice that people going through this phase greatly reduce their activities, have less self-confidence, and take an interest in few things.

They are able to keep their jobs even if they have to work harder. Usually, their memory and relationship with reality are not altered - unless a serious condition («psychosis») has arisen.

Arieti describes the depression we have called 'darkness' here as a combination of sadness and pessimism.

The latter is the essential element of the combination; the unhealthy idea is to believe that what has happened to a person will always happen to them, or that their state of mind will never change.

Defeatism, the illusion of knowing what will happen to us in the future, consolidates sadness into 'darkness'.

Often the 'darkness' of the soul is discharged onto the body.

We may experience weight loss, feelings of oppression in the heart, decreased bodily secretions, insomnia, and frequent headaches.

In our behaviour towards others, 'darkness' makes us tend to exploit and influence others; it makes us  unwilling to be persuaded. We find it difficult to satisfy others, and hostility often overwhelms us.

Faber Andrew wrote a poem entitled “To those who are going through their darkness”...

The poet invites the reader to «believe in poetry. In the eyes of those who have already found that road».

Then again: «There is a sky here waiting for you, with a breathtaking panorama of dreams».

For a poet, poetry is the main road, but we who are not poets have something to believe in, and that is the pillar of our reality.

Let us always remember that when the night reaches its darkest point, the dawn of a new day begins.

Francesco Giovannozzi, psychologist and psychotherapist.

22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [31 August 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. For many, the holiday season is coming to an end and we are preparing to resume our normal rhythm of life. The Word of God comes to us with appropriate advice. 

*First Reading from the Book of Sirach (3:17-18, 20, 28-29 NV 3:19-21, 30, 31) 

This text becomes clearer if we begin reading it from the end: 'The wise heart meditates on parables, and an attentive ear is what the wise man desires' (v. 29). When the Bible speaks of wisdom, it means the art of living happily. Being a 'wise man' is the ideal of everyone in Israel: such a small people, born as a 'people' only at the time of the exodus from Egypt, has the privilege, thanks to Revelation, of knowing that 'all wisdom comes from the Lord' (Sir 1:1), in the sense that only God knows the mysteries of life and the secret of happiness. It is therefore to the Lord that we must ask for wisdom because, in his sovereign freedom, he chose Israel to be the repository of his wisdom. Yeshua Ben Sira (Jesus son of Sira), the author of the book, makes wisdom itself speak as if it were a person (cf. Sir 24:8); Israel seeks wisdom every day (cf. Sir 51:14) and, according to Psalm 1, finds its happiness in it: ' Blessed is the man who meditates on the law of the Lord day and night (1:2). 'Day and night' means always. Those who seek will find, Jesus will later say: but one must seek, that is, recognise that one does not possess everything and is always in need of something. Ben Sira had opened a school of theology (beth midrash) in Jerusalem around 180 BC and, to promote it, he said: "Come to me, you who are uneducated, and dwell in my school" (Sir 51:23). A true son of Israel knows that wisdom comes from God, allows himself to be taught by Him, meditates on the maxims of wisdom, and his ideal is an ear that listens. Israel has treasured this lesson so much that it recites the "Shema' Israel, Hear, O Israel" (Deut 6:4) several times a day. An "open ear" means listening to advice, instructions, commandments; the proud, on the other hand, believe they know everything and close their ears, but they forget that if the house has its shutters closed, the sun cannot enter. We read in verse 28: "There is no remedy for the miserable condition of the proud, for the plant of evil is rooted in them." In other words, the proud are incurably sick because, being full of themselves, they close their hearts. The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Lk 18) is interesting in this regard: the tax collector limited himself to being true because the humble have their feet on the ground and therefore recognise themselves as poor and rely only on God. The Pharisee, self-sufficient in everything, returned home as he had come, while the tax collector was transformed. Isaiah describes the joy of these humble people: ' The humble will rejoice more and more in the Lord, and the poor will exult because of the Holy One of Israel" (Isaiah 29:19), and Jesus will exclaim: "I praise you, Father... because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to the little ones" (Matthew 11:25 // Luke 10:21). God can accomplish great things with the humble, making them servants of his plan, as with Moses, his great and tireless servant, whose secret, as we read in the book of Numbers, was that he was a very humble man, more than anyone else on earth" (12:3), and Jesus, the Servant of God, says of himself: "I am gentle and humble in heart" (Mt 11:29), while Paul writes: "If I must boast, I will boast of my weakness... The Lord has told me... for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 11:30; 12:9). Ultimately, humility is more than a virtue: it is a vital minimum and a prerequisite.

*Responsorial Psalm (67/68) 

"The Lord is his name" (v. 5), this very short phrase sets the tone for the whole: "Lord" is the tetragrammaton (YHWH) revealed to Moses, which expresses God's permanent presence among his people: "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh" (I am who I am). And since He surrounds us at all times with His care, each of the verses can be read on several levels, and the richness and complexity of this psalm lies in being able to sing it in every age and feel involved. "The righteous rejoice, they exult before God and sing for joy. Sing to God, praise His name. Lord is His name" (vv. 4-5). David also dances before the Ark, but here we are talking about the joy of the people freed from Egypt: Moses' song after the crossing of the sea; Miriam, sister of Aaron (and Moses), took up the tambourine and all the women went out after her, dancing and playing the tambourine. Later, during the Exodus, there were many reasons to sing and dance. This emerges in the following verses: 'He brings out the prisoners with joy' (7). 'You have poured out abundant rain, O God, you have strengthened your weary inheritance, and your people have dwelt in it, in that which, in your goodness, you have made secure for the poor, O God' (10-11).  Here, different levels of interpretation overlap, but every allusion to liberation always refers to the exodus from Egypt, the return from Babylonian exile, and other liberations, that is, every time that individuals or entire peoples advance towards greater justice and freedom and, finally, the definitive liberation that we still await. "He brings out the prisoners with joy": for us Christians, this is a reminder of Christ's Resurrection, thinking of our own. "You have poured out abundant rain": this reference to the Exodus offers several interpretations: the manna in the desert (cf. Ex 16:4, 13-15) and most likely also the beneficial rain on which all life depends, because without "abundant rain" the promised land does not flow with "milk and honey". In the past, there have been memorable droughts (and therefore famines): the seven years of famine that led Jacob's sons and their father to go down to Egypt to Joseph; the drought in the time of Elijah (1 Kings 17-18) with the harsh confrontation between Elijah and Queen Jezebel, worshipper of Baal, the god of fertility, storms and rain; the famine under Emperor Claudius when the Christian communities of the Mediterranean basin, regions not affected, were invited to provide financial assistance to the victims, and St Paul called on the community of Corinth for their slowness in giving their contribution (cf. 2 Cor 8-9). Finally, we too have reason to give thanks for the new manna, our daily bread: Jesus Christ, the living bread that came down from heaven (Jn 6:48-51).

*Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:18-19, 22-24a)

Addressed to Christians of Jewish origin, the Letter to the Hebrews aims to place the New Covenant in its proper perspective in relation to the Old Covenant. With the earthly life, passion, death and resurrection of Christ, the entire past is considered by Christians as a necessary stage in the history of salvation, but now superseded, though not annulled, so that between the First and the New Covenant there is both continuity and radical novelty. In favour of continuity are elements familiar to Israel: Sinai, fire, darkness, gloom, hurricane, trumpets, Zion, Jerusalem, names written in the heavens, judge and justice, covenant with language that evokes the entire spiritual experience of the people of the Covenant and certainly familiar to listeners at that time. (cf. Ex 19:16-19; 20:18, 21; Dt 4:11). Israel feeds on these stories as titles of glory of the people of the Covenant. However, the Letter to the Hebrews seems to downplay this memorable experience because that Covenant has now been completely renewed. Moses approached God, but the people remained at a distance; in the New Covenant, the baptised are introduced into a true intimacy with God, and the author describes this new spiritual experience as entering a new world of beauty and celebration (cf. vv. 22-24). The "fear of God" in the Old Testament was fear in the face of manifestations of power, so much so that the people came to ask not to hear God's voice anymore, but later, little by little, their relationship with God was transformed and fear became filial trust. Those who knew Jesus discovered in him the true face of the Father: "The Spirit himself testifies to our spirit that we are children of God" (Rom 8:15-16). Jesus, therefore, fully fulfils the role of mediator of the New Covenant and allows all the baptised to approach God and become "firstborn" (in the sense of "consecrated"). Thus, the ancient promise to Moses on Sinai: "If you will listen to my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my special possession among all peoples... you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation" (Ex 19:4) is finally fulfilled in Christ, and for this reason we too "let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence" (Heb 4:16).

*From the Gospel according to Luke (14:1a, 7–14)

In Luke's Gospel, there are often scenes of meals: at the home of Simon the Pharisee (7:36); at Martha and Mary's house (10:38); again at the home of a Pharisee (11:37); at Zacchaeus' house (19); the Passover meal (22). The importance that Jesus attached to meals even led his detractors to say, "Here is a glutton and a drunkard" (Lk 7:34). Three of these meals take place in the homes of Pharisees and become occasions for disagreement. During the first, at Simon's house (Lk 7:36), a woman of ill repute threw herself at Jesus' feet and, contrary to all expectations, he took her as an example. The second (Lk 11:37) was also the occasion for a serious misunderstanding, this time because Jesus did not wash his hands before sitting down at the table: the discussion degenerates and Jesus takes advantage of it to launch into a severe diatribe, so much so that the episode ends with the scribes and Pharisees beginning to rage against him, setting traps for him to catch him in the act (cf. Lk 11:53). Today, the third meal in the house of a Pharisee takes place on the Sabbath, a day of rest ('Shabbat' in Hebrew means to cease all activity) and celebration: a memorial of the creation of the world, the liberation of the people from Egypt and the anticipation of the great feast of the Day when God will renew the entire creation. The Sabbath included a solemn meal, often an occasion to invite fellow believers, even though the ritual prohibitions of the Law were so numerous that, for some, observance of the prescriptions had obscured the essential: fraternal charity. On that Sabbath, Jesus had healed a man suffering from dropsy (a scene that does not appear in our liturgical reading: cf. Lk 14:2-6), and lively discussions ensued because Jesus was accused of breaking the Sabbath. Here I pause and ask a question: are the relations between Jesus and the Pharisees always a clash? In truth, they are a mixture of sympathy and severity: sympathy because their religious movement, born around 135 BC out of a desire for conversion, was esteemed, and the name 'Pharisee', which means 'separated', expressed the rejection of any political compromise or laxity in religious practice, two problems that were very present at the time. At the time of Christ, their fervent faith and courage in respecting tradition were appreciated, not in a pejorative sense, but as a treasure received from their fathers and transmitted in the form of precepts concerning the smallest details of daily life. These rules, written down after 70 AD, resemble those of Jesus himself and were therefore so respectable that Jesus did not refuse to speak with them, as demonstrated by these meals and the meeting with Nicodemus (cf. Jn 3). Under Herod the Great (39-4 BC), six thousand of them, in order to remain faithful to the Law, refused to swear allegiance to Rome and Herod and were punished with heavy fines. However, their strict observance sometimes led to excessive self-confidence and contempt for others, and Jesus reacted to this because it created certain ambiguities and deviations, well symbolised in the parable of the speck and the log (Mt 7:3-5; Lk 6:41-42). In today's text, Jesus invites us not to occupy the first places, not to recall a norm of good manners and philanthropy, but, in the manner of the prophets, he seeks to open their eyes before it is too late, because excessive self-satisfaction can lead to blindness. And so, precisely because they are people of value and faithful practitioners of the Jewish religion, Jesus unmasks the risk of their contempt for others by reminding them that to enter the Kingdom, they must become like children (cf. Lk 9:46-48; Mt 18:4), welcoming and respecting them without expecting anything in return and, indeed, opening one's heart to the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind (v. 13). This is a lesson for the Pharisees of yesterday and today, bearing in mind what St James writes: never mix personal favouritism with faith in Christ (cf. Jas 2:1).

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

XXI Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [24 August 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us. It is useful in these times to reread these biblical texts in light of what is happening in the Middle East.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (66:18-21)

The prophets speak in the name of God, and their listeners know this well, but when they want to emphasise the importance of their statements, they remind them that these are the very words of the Lord, and therefore something very important. In this passage, there are at least two great announcements: the universal dimension of God's plan, 'I will come to gather', and the role of the small remnant of believers, 'the survivors', those who have escaped and who, amid general discouragement, preserve their faith.  While the first Isaiah or Micah (8th century BC) announced only the salvation of the 'little remnant of Israel', during and after the exile (6th century) Israel discovered the universal dimension of God's plan and learned to consider its election not as an exclusive privilege but as a vocation. This is a new discourse because it highlights the missionary role that God entrusts to Israel in the service of all humanity, the universal dimension of God's plan: "I will gather all nations and all languages" and even more surprising: "they will come and see my glory" (v. 18). The term glory indicates the splendour of God's presence (literally in Hebrew 'weight'). God does not need us to glorify him; rather, it is we who become happy when we live in a covenant of love with him. "They will see my glory" means recognising Him as the only God, freeing humanity from all forms of idolatry. And the text continues: "I will send their survivors to the farthest nations... these messengers will proclaim my glory among the nations... they will bring all your brothers from all the nations as an offering to the Lord... to my holy one in Jerusalem" (v. 20). Here is the fulfilment of the vocation of the chosen people: to be a light to the nations, so that salvation may reach to the ends of the earth (cf. Is 49:6). This is also the vocation of the Church, the people of God called to bear witness to the truth of God in the world, even if it does not replace Israel: to proclaim the glory of God to all peoples, to bear witness to the Gospel that enlightens life: 'I will put my sign upon them' (v. 19), and in this light we understand what Jesus will say: 'When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself' (Jn 12:32). The last sentence is a third important announcement: not only will the peoples draw near to the Lord, but 'I will take priests and Levites from among them' (v. 21), which means that the usual conditions for the priesthood will no longer be required and every human being can draw near to the living God. We can understand why, a few verses before this Sunday's reading, Isaiah invited all those who love Jerusalem to rejoice because the Lord will make "peace flow towards it like a river, and the glory of the nations like a torrent" (Isaiah 66:10-12).

Some notes *St Augustine writes: 'Who would be so foolish as to believe that God needs the sacrifices offered to him? The worship given to God benefits man and not God. It is not the source that benefits us if we drink from it, nor the light if we see it' (The City of God, X, 5-6).

*In Third Isaiah (the prophet after the exile), we find the theology of the "saving remnant," of which we read a trace in Psalm 39/40: "Many will see and fear and trust in the Lord" (Ps 39/40:4), which can be compared to the announcement we find here in Isaiah (vv. 20-21). 

*In the Bible, nations are not always spoken of in a positive way, and the term is sometimes loaded with decidedly negative meanings: The book of Deuteronomy, for example, speaks of the "abominations of the nations" (18:9-12) because of their religious practices in general and human sacrifices in particular. In biblical pedagogy, the chosen people are guided to remain faithful to God, to discover the face of the one God, avoiding all contact with nations at risk of idolatrous contagion. This positive vision is already present in Abraham: "All the families of the earth shall be blessed in you" (Genesis 12:3). With firmer faith, Israel will discover the universalism of God's plan, gradually understanding that it is the older brother, not the only child, with the role of opening the way to its God for all humanity: if God is the only true God, he is the God of all.

Responsorial Psalm 116/117

This psalm is shorter than the psalter and could be summed up in a single word: Alleluia, the last word of the psalm, but also the first, since Praise the Lord (v. 1) is equivalent to Alleluia: 'Allelu' is an imperative: Praise, and 'Ia' is the first syllable of God's name. The purpose of the entire psalter, which means 'Praises' (in Hebrew Tehillim), derives from the same root as Alleluia. Here is the rabbis' commentary on Alleluia: 'God has led us from slavery to freedom, from sadness to joy, from mourning to celebration, from darkness to splendour, from slavery to redemption. For this reason, we sing Alleluia before him." "God has led us from slavery to freedom": this is what God has done for his people, but it is also God's plan for all humanity. The salvation of his people is the beginning and promise of what God will do for all humanity when he announced to Abraham: "All the families of the earth will be blessed in you" (Gen 12:3). Solomon had already dreamed of this: 'All the peoples of the earth will recognise your name and worship you, as your people Israel do' (1 Kings 8:41-43; cf. the first reading). Hence the structure of this psalm, which is very simple but evocative: 'Praise God' (v. 1); "For he has shown his love" (v. 2). Looking more closely, we read: "Praise God, all you nations" (v. 1); For his work on behalf of his people: "For he has shown his love for us". Here the "for" is very important: when the nations see what God has done for us, they will believe. In other words, because God has proven himself by saving his people, other nations will be able to believe in him. The same reasoning is found in Psalm 39/40 (20th Sunday of the year C) where the psalmist says: "God has brought me out of the pit of death... seeing this, many will fear and put their trust in the Lord" (Ps 39/40:4). Similarly, Psalm 125/126 sings of the exile in Babylon: "Then it was said among the nations, 'The Lord has done great things for them'" (Ps 125/126:2). This idea is found several times in the prophets: when the people are in misfortune, other nations may doubt God's power. It is in this sense that Ezekiel dares to say that the exile in Babylon is a disgrace to God and even goes so far as to say that the exile of God's people "desecrated" God's name, while liberation, on the contrary, will be proof of his liberating power before all. This leads him to proclaim, in the midst of the Babylonian exile: "I will show the holiness of my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, which you have profaned among them; then the nations shall know that I am the Lord... when I have shown my holiness in you before their eyes" (Ezekiel 36:23; 36:36). Recognising God's Name in biblical language means discovering the God of tenderness and faithfulness revealed to Moses (Ex 34:6): tenderness and faithfulness that Israel has experienced throughout its history. This is the meaning of the second verse of the psalm: "His love for us is strong, and the Lord's faithfulness endures forever."  One final observation: this psalm is part of the Hallel (from Psalm 112/113 to 117/118) and occupies a special place in the liturgy of Israel because it is recited after the Passover meal. Jesus himself sang it on Holy Thursday evening, and the Gospels of Matthew and Mark echo it (cf. Mt 26:30; Mk 14:26). We too can repeat: "He has shown his love for us" by listening to Jesus: "No one has greater love than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" (Jn 15:13) and "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but have eternal life" (Jn 3:16).

Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:5-7, 11-13)

The recipients of the Letter to the Hebrews, Christians going through a period of severe persecution, have already suffered greatly for their faith, as is clear in chapter 10:32-34. To console them and instil courage, the author tells them not to forget the exhortation addressed to them and delves into the Old Testament, taking up what the prophet Isaiah said to his compatriots exiled in Babylon: "Strengthen your limp hands and your weak knees" (v. 12). He speaks to them as if they too were living in exile and addresses the problem of suffering not to justify or explain it, but to give it meaning. He calls for perseverance, an indispensable virtue in times of trial when God, like a Father, shows his love even in seemingly absurd ways. The dominant image is therefore that of the pedagogical father of God present in the wisdom literature of the Bible, where suffering can become a journey, a test of the believer's faith, who knows that, whatever happens, God is silent, but is neither deaf nor indifferent. On the contrary, like a father, he accompanies us on this difficult path and helps us to emerge stronger from every evil. What you endure is therefore a 'correction' with references to the book of Proverbs: 'Do not despise the Lord's discipline, and do not resent his rebuke, for the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father disciplines the child he delights in' (Pr 3:11-12). This theme was familiar to the early Christians, who knew well the book of Deuteronomy, which compared God to a teacher who accompanies the growth of those he educates (cf. Dt 8:2-5). Lived in trust in God, suffering can become an opportunity to bear witness to the hope and inner peace that the Spirit gives. Suffering can thus become a school in which we learn to live in the Spirit everything that happens because, as St. Paul writes, tribulation produces perseverance, perseverance a proven virtue, and proven virtue the hope that does not disappoint thanks to the love poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit (cf. Rom 5:3-4). Suffering is therefore part of the human condition: even in such a situation, God entrusts us with the honour and responsibility of bearing witness to the faith, and if persecution is part of the journey of life, it is not because God wants it, but for reasons linked to human behaviour. When Jesus said that it was necessary for the Son of Man to suffer, he was not speaking of a demand from God, but of the sad reality of human opposition. St. Paul, addressing the early communities in Asia Minor, which were also persecuted, reminded them that we must enter the Kingdom of God through many tribulations (cf. Acts 14:22).

From the Gospel according to Luke (13:22-30)

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and, visibly, does not miss an opportunity to teach, but what he says is not always what one would expect. Here, for example, someone asks a question concerning salvation, and he does not answer directly: 'Lord, are there few who are saved?' (v. 23). The answer does not concern who will be saved, as if there were those who were chosen and those who were excluded in advance, but what is the condition for entering the kingdom: to pass through the door! "Strive to enter through the narrow door, for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able to" (v. 24). The image of the narrow gate is evocative and eloquent: someone who is excessively obese or laden with bulky packages cannot pass through a narrow gate unless they undergo a drastic weight-loss programme or decide to abandon all their baggage. The text that follows allows us to understand what spiritual obesity is and what baggage prevents us from passing through.  Knocking at the door, they will say, 'We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets' (vv. 25-26). Here Jesus denounces the self-assurance of his interlocutors, who are convinced that, simply because they were born of the chosen people, they are entitled to salvation and that the door will open for them. Jesus, however, points out that the door is the same for everyone, so why will they not be able to pass through it? Indeed, the master will specify: "I do not know where you are from. Depart from me, all you who practise lawlessness' (v. 27). It is true that Jesus is one of them, that he ate and drank with them and taught among them; it is true that their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and all the prophets are in the Kingdom of God, but all this does not give them any rights. Spiritual obesity and burdensome weights are their certainties: they do not welcome the kingdom of God as a gift, convinced that they have rights. Then the last sentence becomes clear: 'there are those who are last who will be first, and there are those who are first who will be last' (v. 30). The first in God's plan, as St Paul says, are the children of Israel, to whom belong adoption, glory, the covenants, the Law, worship, the promises, the patriarchs, and it is from them that Christ was born. (cf. Rom 9:4-5). The Jewish people are the people of the Covenant by God's sovereign choice, as we read in Deuteronomy: 'The Lord did not set his heart on any nation but your own, to be his people, as he promised to your ancestors and as he promised to you, because you were the people who were a stony ground and a dry rock, where no one lived, and he brought you out of the desert to give you a good land, a land flowing with milk and honey' (Deut 10:15). And with good reason, the people of Israel were happy and proud to be chosen by God, as it is said in Psalm 32/33: "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord. Blessed are the people he has chosen as his inheritance... We wait for the Lord. He is our help and our shield. The joy of our hearts comes from him, and our trust is in his holy name." (Ps 32/33:12, 20-21). But, like every vocation, God's choice is a mission: the first ones invited to the kingdom had the task of bringing all humanity into it, as Isaiah reminded us several times (cf. Is 42:6; 49:5-6) so that salvation might be achieved for all. When Jesus speaks, they reject his teaching because it disturbs their certainties and their self-satisfaction, and when Jesus tells them to go away because they are doing evil, he does not mean evil actions, but refers to this closure of the heart. Shortly before, he had healed a sick woman in a synagogue on the Sabbath, and instead of rejoicing at her healing, they criticised the place and the time. This same spiritual obtuseness and selfish view of faith can mark our lives as Christians. By closing our hearts to Grace, we become blind and spiritually obese because, like some of Jesus' contemporaries who were closed in their certainties, we fail to recognise him and follow him as the Messiah. Pope Francis repeated that a closed heart does not hear the voice of God nor recognise the face of our brothers and sisters. Let us therefore accept the Lord's invitation to remove hardness from our hearts, so that we may receive the gift of a heart of flesh: only in this way will we be able to understand his will and proclaim his Gospel with joy.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

XX Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [17 August 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Here is the commentary on next Sunday's biblical texts.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah (38:4-6, 8-10)

 The name Jeremiah gave rise to the term 'jeremiad'. But it would be a mistake to think that this prophet spent his time complaining and feeling sorry for himself. It is true, however, that he was often led to cry out for mercy under the weight of his trials. And God knows how many he experienced! So much so that the proverb 'No one is a prophet in his own country' applies particularly to him. At times, expressions of utter discouragement emerge from his pen (cf. Jer 15:10, 18; 20:14). Faced with the repeated failures of his mission and the evils of which he is a victim, Jeremiah asks himself disturbing questions, even going so far as to call God to account, whose conduct seems surprising, if not downright unjust: "You are righteous, Lord! But I want to argue with you. Why do the wicked prosper? Why are all the treacherous at ease?" (Jer 12:1-2). Reading the book of Jeremiah, we realise that he had good reasons to ask these questions and complain: chapter after chapter, the plots of his adversaries emerge, along with their deceit and threats, which are then cruelly carried out (cf. Jer 20:10; 18:18; 11:21; 12:6). In the passage proposed by the liturgy this Sunday, we are faced with one of his many misfortunes, a typical episode of his life in which all the arguments and wickedness of his adversaries appear: "Kill Jeremiah, for he is discouraging the warriors who are left in this city and discouraging the people by speaking to them like this, for this man is not seeking the welfare of the people, but their harm" (v. 4). They took him and threw him into the cistern of Prince Melchiah, where there was no water but mud, and he sank into the mud, so that the persecution he suffered could not be described more realistically. However, God did not abandon his prophet, but kept the promise he made on the day of his calling, to sustain him against all adversity, and it was truly a covenant between God and him (Jer 1:4-5, 17-19); in fact, on a day when he was particularly discouraged, God renewed his mission and his promise (Jer 15:21), and now the instrument of liberation will be a foreigner, an Ethiopian named Ebed-Melech. This is not the first time that the Bible presents us with foreigners who are more respectful of God and his prophets than the chosen people. This Ethiopian has the courage to intervene with the king, who grants permission to save Jeremiah. When Jesus later tells the parable of the Good Samaritan, he may have been thinking of this Ethiopian who saved the prophet, because there are many similarities between the Good Samaritan and the Ethiopian. In the rest of the story, verses not included in the liturgical text, many details emerge about the sensitivity of the pagan who saves the prophet, taking every precaution not to hurt him during the ascent (28:11-13). Why is no one a prophet in his own country? This is a recurring question: it probably happens because the proclamation of God's love for humanity requires us to love one another, and when we live together, it is easier to see the negative than the positive: 'No one is great in the eyes of his neighbour'. Job's complaints (in chapter 3) are similar to those of Jeremiah, and it is thought that the author of the Book of Job was inspired by the lamentations of Jeremiah, considered the quintessential example of the persecuted righteous man.

Responsorial Psalm (39/40:2,3,4,18)

"I waited patiently for the Lord, and he turned to me." The psalm speaks in the first person singular, but in reality it is the people of Israel who sing their gratitude because they have gone through terrible trials and God has delivered them. This psalm is therefore a psalm of thanksgiving, composed to be sung in the Temple at the time of the offering of a sacrifice of thanksgiving, animal sacrifices celebrated until the final destruction of the Temple in 70 AD. The whole people bursts with joy on their return from Babylonian exile, as after the crossing of the Red Sea. Exile was like a deadly fall into a bottomless pit, an abyss from which it seemed impossible to rise, and the psalm speaks of the 'terror of the abyss'. During that long period of trial, the people, supported by priests and prophets, maintained their hope and strength to call for help: 'You are my help and my deliverer: my God, do not delay! (v. 18) and God saved them: 'The Lord... has heard my cry' (v. 2). On their return, the people seem resurrected and give thanks: 'He has put a new song in my mouth... Many will see and fear and trust in the Lord... But I am poor and needy: the Lord cares for me" (vv. 4, 18). Before the exile, Israel lived in security, but the prophets had failed to awaken it from its indifference. During the exile, it meditated on the causes of the disaster, wondering if the cause was not its own superficiality. This psalm sounds like a warning for the future, or rather a resolution because, in order not to fall back into the same error, Israel must live faithfully according to the Covenant. In this spirit, the psalm develops a reflection on what truly pleases God: "You do not desire sacrifices or offerings... You have not asked for burnt offerings or sacrifices for sin. Then I said, 'Here I am, I come'. (vv. 7, 8, 9). To express the experience of returning to the promised land as a return to life, the psalmist uses the parable of a man thrown into a pit by his enemies, perhaps inspired by the experience of the prophet Jeremiah, whose misadventures are recounted in the first reading: thrown into a pit, he is freed by Ebed-Melek, a foreigner. Jeremiah knew that behind that man's surprising generosity was God himself: "He has brought me up out of a pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock and established my goings" (v. 3). Freed, he bursts with joy: "He has put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and trust in the Lord" (v. 4). Those who have been saved sing God's praise, and others, seeing that God saves, will want to turn to Him. The psalm does not stop there, because the final verse proclaims: "You are my help and my deliverer: my God, do not delay!" (v. 18). Since humanity has not yet reached the full fulfilment of God's plan, the psalmist suggests two attitudes of prayer: praise for the salvation that has already taken place, so that others may open themselves to the saving God; supplication for the salvation we still await, so that the Spirit may inspire us to take the necessary action. It is not we who save the world, as the psalm says: "He has put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and trust in the Lord" (v. 4). God will always find a small remnant to save. Amos says: "The God of hosts will have mercy on the remnant of Joseph" (5:15); Isaiah also repeats similar things, which are then elaborated on by Micah, Zephaniah and Zechariah, who announce that the "remnant" of Israel will not only be saved, but will become an instrument of salvation for all others. God will use them to save all humanity, as Micah says: "The remnant of Jacob will be, among many peoples, like dew from the Lord" (5:6).

Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:1-4)

The author of the Letter addresses words of encouragement to persecuted Christians. He devoted chapter 11 to presenting the great models of faith in the Old Testament, and last Sunday we spoke about Abraham and Sarah. Here, at the beginning of chapter 12, he states that all believers in the Old Testament are like a "cloud of witnesses" surrounding us: a cloud of protectors. The author is not content with recommending that Christians imitate the trust and constancy of the great figures of the past, but invites them to "keep their eyes fixed on Jesus," the ever-present witness, the one who said, "I am with you always, until the end of the age" (Mt 28:20), the origin of faith and its fulfilment. A more literal translation would be: Jesus is the 'pioneer of faith', and the Greek term used, ἀρχηγός archēgós, translated as 'pioneer', indicates leader, commander, pioneer, initiator, founder, the one who opens the way and leads forward, a perfect guide who can be trusted because he leads to full fulfilment. In fact, he himself underwent the test of perseverance, in which Christians are now also engaged. His test was much harder: coming as the Bridegroom, for the joy of a wedding feast, he had said of himself that one cannot make the guests fast while the bridegroom is with them (cf. Mk 2:19), but the Bridegroom was not recognised and, renouncing the joy that was set before him, he endured the cross, despising the shame of that punishment. St. Paul says it in another way when he writes 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, taking the form of a slave... he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross" (Phil 2:6-8). Such a contrast is unimaginable: having come to save humanity from sin, Christ was dramatically rejected and killed because of the sins of men: "Consider carefully the one who has endured such hostility from sinners" (v. 3). Both the Letter to the Hebrews and the Letter to the Philippians emphasise that Jesus is our model and support not because of the quantity of his sufferings, but because of his "obedience" unto death, even death on a cross, as Paul writes, while in the Letter to the Hebrews we read that although he was a Son, he learned obedience from the things he suffered (cf. 5:8). To obey – from the Latin ob-audire – literally means 'to place one's ear before the Word', which is the attitude of absolute trust. Jesus, in the most extreme situation, maintains total trust in the Father, who is always present and attentive to his beloved Son, sharing his suffering and anguish: 'He remains faithful, because he cannot deny himself' (2 Tim 2:13). This is followed by the triumph of God's love, and Christ sits at the right hand of God, reigning with him. This same triumph is promised to those who endure persecution like Christ. The author does not hesitate to use the word "struggle" to describe this courage: the Christians to whom he writes visibly risk their lives to remain faithful to Jesus, who had warned them: "You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death... But by your perseverance you will save your lives" (Lk 21:12-19). Throughout the world, some Christians are directly affected by this fate because they are experiencing open or hidden persecution. We, who at least for the moment do not know direct persecution, are asked to be witnesses by speaking courageously about God and defending his truth.

From the Gospel according to Luke (12:49-53)

Jesus compares his mission to a fire: "I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already burning!" From the fire of Pentecost, this proclamation spread like a flame: among the Jewish people it appeared as the destroyer of the entire religious edifice, in the pagan world it was considered a contagious madness. St Paul writes to the Corinthians: "We preach a crucified Messiah, a scandal to Jews and foolishness to pagans." (1 Cor 1:23). This fire leaves indelible traces: those who allow themselves to be burned by the Gospel and those who reject it become irreconcilable enemies, even if they are united by family ties, thus fulfilling what the prophet Micah described with desolation in his time of anguish: "The son insults his father, the daughter rebels against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; each person's enemies are their own family members." (Mi 7:6). When Jesus announces these divisions, it is not a mere premonition: he speaks from experience, as happened in Nazareth where, after an initial enthusiasm, his childhood friends and family turned against him because he had just said that his mission went beyond the borders of Israel (Lk 4:28-29). And this is not the only time that Jesus encounters misunderstanding, even opposition from his own people: St John writes that not even his brothers believed in him (cf. Jn 7:5). Moreover, Jesus does not hesitate to tell his disciples that one of the conditions for proclaiming the Kingdom of God is to accept possible painful separations. For if one wants to follow him but does not love him more than one's dearest ones and even more than one's own life, one will never become his disciple (cf. Lk 14:26). The fire he has kindled leads to radical choices. Israel was waiting for a Messiah who would bring peace to the world, as the prophecies of Isaiah (Isaiah 2:11) were well known, but Jesus instead announces divisions: "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but division." Jesus' peace requires a radical conversion of the heart, but many will oppose this conversion with all their strength. His proclamation of peace will meet with the favour of some, but the opposition of many: having come among us to proclaim love and salvation, he suffered and died, as he himself had foretold: "The Son of Man must suffer greatly, be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, be killed and rise on the third day." (Lk 9:22). And again: he will be handed over to the pagans, mocked, insulted, spat upon, scourged and killed, but he will rise on the third day (cf. Lk 18:32). His resurrection gives us courage: enlivened by his Spirit poured out upon us, we are not afraid to set the world on fire with the fire of his charity.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole