XXX Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [26 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Another lesson on prayer from Jesus in the Gospel, and what a lesson! 

   First Reading from the Book of Sirach (35:15b-17, 20-22a)

 'God does not judge by appearances' (Sir 35) The book of Sirach, written by Ben Sira around 180 BC in Jerusalem, was born in a time of peace and cultural openness under Greek rule. However, this apparent serenity hides a risk: contact between Jewish and Greek culture threatens the purity of the faith, and Ben Sira intends to transmit the religious heritage of Israel in its integrity. The Jewish faith, in fact, is not a theory, but an experience of covenant with the living God, discovered progressively through his works. God is not a human idea, but a surprising revelation, because 'God is God and not a man' (Hos 11:9). The central text affirms that God does not judge according to appearances: while men look at the outside, God looks at the heart. He hears the prayer of the poor, the oppressed, the orphan and the widow, and – in a wonderful image – 'the widow's tears run down God's cheeks', a sign of his mercy that vibrates with compassion. Ben Sira teaches that true prayer arises from precariousness: when man discovers himself to be poor and without support, his heart truly opens to God. Precarity and prayer are of the same family: only those who recognise their weakness pray sincerely. Finally, the sage warns that it is not outward sacrifices that please God, but a pure heart disposed to do good: What pleases the Lord above all is that we keep away from evil. The Lord is a just judge, who does not show partiality, but looks at the truth of the heart. In summary, Ben Sira reminds us that God does not judge by appearances but by the heart, that authentic prayer arises from poverty, and that divine mercy is manifested in his compassionate closeness to the little ones and the humble.

Responsorial Psalm (33/34:2-3, 16, 18, 19, 23)

 Here is another alphabetical psalm, i.e., each verse follows the order of the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. This indicates that true wisdom consists in trusting in God in everything, from A to Z. The text echoes the first reading from Sirach, which encouraged the Jews of the second century to maintain the purity of their faith in the face of the seductions of Greek culture. The central theme is the discovery of a God who is close to human beings, especially those who suffer: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted." This is one of the greatest revelations of the Bible: God is not a distant or jealous being, but a Father who loves and shares in human suffering. Ben Sira poetically said that "our tears flow down God's cheeks": an image of his tender and compassionate mercy. This revelation is rooted in the journey of Israel. In the time of Moses, pagan peoples imagined rival and envious gods. Genesis corrects this view, showing that suspicion of God is a poison, symbolised by the serpent. Through the prophets, Israel gradually came to understand that God is a Father who accompanies, liberates and consoles, the 'God-with-us' (Emmanuel). The burning bush (Ex 3) is the foundation of this faith: 'I have seen the misery of my people, I have heard their cry, I know their sufferings'. Here God reveals himself as the One who sees, listens and acts. He does not remain a spectator, but inspires Moses and his children with the strength to liberate, transforming suffering into hope and commitment. The psalm reflects this experience: after undergoing trials, the people proclaim their praise: "I will bless the Lord at all times" because they have experienced a God who listens, liberates, watches over, saves and redeems. The name "YHWH," the "Lord," indicates precisely the constant presence of God alongside his people. Finally, the text teaches that in times of trial it is not only permissible but necessary to cry out to God: He is attentive to our cry and responds, not always by eliminating suffering, but by making himself present, reawakening trust, and giving us the strength to face evil. In summary, the psalm and the reflection that accompanies it give us three certainties: God is close to those who suffer and hears the cry of the poor. His presence does not take away the pain, but illuminates it and transforms it into hope. True faith comes from trust in this God who sees, hears, frees and accompanies man at all times.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (4:6-8, 16-18)

 "The good fight" (2 Tim 4:6-18). The text presents St Paul's last spiritual testament, written while he was in prison in Rome, aware that he would soon be executed. The letters to Timothy, although perhaps composed or completed by a disciple, contain his authentic words of farewell, imbued with faith and serenity. Paul describes his imminent death with the Greek verb analuein, which means 'to untie the ropes', 'to weigh anchor', 'to dismantle the tent': images that evoke the departure for a new journey, the one towards eternity. Looking back, the apostle takes stock of his life using the sporting metaphor of running and fighting: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." Like an athlete who never gives up, Paul has reached the finish line and knows that he will receive the "crown of righteousness," the reward promised to all the faithful. He does not boast about himself, because this crown is not a personal privilege, but a gift offered to all those who have lovingly desired the manifestation of Christ. The 'just judge', God, does not look at appearances but at the heart — as Sirach taught — and will give glory not only to Paul, but to all those who live in the hope of the Lord's coming. The apostle's life was a constant race towards the glorious manifestation of Christ, the horizon of his faith and his service. He recognises that the strength to persevere does not come from him, but from God himself: 'The Lord gave me strength, so that I might fulfil the proclamation of the gospel and all nations might hear it'. This divine strength sustained his mission, enabling him to proclaim Christ until the end. Paul explains that Christian life is not a competition, but a shared race, in which each person is called to run at their own pace, with the same ardent desire for the coming of Christ. In his letter to Titus, he defined Christians as those who “wait for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ” — words that the liturgy repeats every day at Mass. In his hour of trial, Paul also confesses the loneliness of the apostle: The first time I made my defence, no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be held against them (v. 16) . Like Jesus on the cross and Stephen at the moment of his stoning, he forgives and transforms abandonment into an experience of intimate communion with the Lord, who becomes his only strength and consolation. Paul is the poor man of whom Ben Sira speaks, the one whom God listens to and consoles, the one whose tears flow down God's cheeks. His final words reveal the hope that overcomes death: "So I was delivered from the lion's mouth. The Lord will deliver me from all evil and bring me safely into heaven, and save me in his kingdom" (vv. 17-18). He does not speak of physical deliverance - he knows that death is imminent - but of spiritual deliverance from the greatest danger: losing faith, ceasing to fight. The Lord has kept him faithful and given him perseverance until the end. For Paul, death is not defeat, but a passage to glory. It is the birth into true life, the entrance into the Kingdom where he will sing forever: 'To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.'

In summary: The text presents Paul as a model of the believer who is faithful to the end. He experiences death as a departure towards God, not as an end. He looks at life as a race sustained by grace. He recognises that strength and perseverance come from the Lord. He understands that the reward is promised to all who desire the coming of Christ. He forgives those who abandon him and finds God's presence in solitude and weakness. He sees death as a passage into the glory of the Kingdom. Paul's "good fight" thus becomes the struggle of every Christian: to remain faithful in trials, to the point of running the last stretch with our gaze fixed on Christ, the source of strength, peace and hope.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (18:9-14)

A small preliminary observation before entering into the text: Luke clearly tells us that this is a parable... so we must not imagine that all the Pharisees or all the tax collectors of Jesus' time were like those described here. No Pharisee or tax collector perfectly matched this portrait: Jesus actually presents us with two very typical and simplified inner attitudes to highlight the moral of the story. He wants us to reflect on our own attitude, because we will probably recognise ourselves now in one, now in the other, depending on the day. Let us move on to the parable: last Sunday, Luke already offered us a teaching on prayer; the parable of the widow and the unjust judge taught us to pray without ever becoming discouraged. Today, however, it is a tax collector who is offered as an example. What relationship, one might ask, can there be between a poor widow and a rich tax collector? It is certainly not the bank account that is at issue, but the disposition of the heart. The widow is poor and forced to humble herself before a judge who ignores her; the tax collector, perhaps wealthy, bears the burden of a bad reputation, which is another form of poverty. Tax collectors were unpopular, and often not without reason: they lived in a period of Roman occupation and worked in the service of the occupiers. They were considered 'collaborators'. In addition, they dealt with a sensitive issue in every age: taxes. Rome set the amount due, and the tax collectors advanced it, then received full powers to recover it from their fellow citizens... often with a large profit margin. When Zacchaeus promises Jesus to repay four times as much to those he has defrauded, the suspicion is confirmed. Therefore, when the tax collector in the parable does not dare to raise his eyes to heaven and beats his breast saying, 'O God, have mercy on me, a sinner', perhaps he is only telling the plain truth. Being true before God, recognising one's own fragility: this is true prayer. It is this sincerity that makes him 'righteous' on his return home, says Jesus. The Pharisees, on the other hand, enjoyed an excellent reputation: their scrupulous fidelity to the Law, fasting twice a week (more than the Law required!), regular almsgiving, all expressed their desire to please God. And everything the Pharisee says in his prayer is true: he invents nothing. But, in reality, he does not pray. He contemplates himself. He looks at himself with complacency: he needs nothing, asks for nothing. He takes stock of his merits — and he has many! — but God does not think in terms of merit: his love is free, and all he asks is that we trust him. Let us imagine a journalist at the exit of the Temple interviewing the two men: Sir, what did you expect from God when you entered the Temple? Yes, I expected something. And did you receive it? Yes, and even more. And you, Mr Pharisee? No, I received nothing... A moment of silence, then he adds: But I didn't expect anything, after all. The concluding sentence of the parable sums it all up: "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted." Jesus does not want to present God as a moral accountant who distributes rewards and punishments. He states a profound truth: those who exalt themselves, that is, those who believe themselves to be greater than they are, like the Pharisee, close their hearts and look down on others. But those who believe themselves to be superior lose the richness of others and isolate themselves from God, who never forces the door of the heart. We remain as we were, with our human 'righteousness', so different from the divine. On the contrary, those who humble themselves, who recognise themselves as small and poor, see superiority in others and can draw on their wealth. As St Paul says: 'Consider others superior to yourselves.' And this is true: every person we meet has something we do not have. This perspective opens the heart and allows God to fill us with his gift. It is not a question of an inferiority complex, but of the truth of the heart. It is precisely when we recognise that we are not 'brilliant' that the great adventure with God can begin. Ultimately, this parable is a magnificent illustration of the first beatitude: 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven'.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Theatrical actors and neutrality

(Lk 13:10-17)

Old and new opinions or common ideas stand in the way of life that calls, that reveals something else, that ignites passions, that wants totality, and activates transformation.

As always, Jesus is present in "synagogue" not to make codified prayers: He is among his people to «instruct» (v.10). The Lord is educating his intimates, in a very decisive way.

In the place of worship the Master finds a subordinate humanity, a panorama of minimums still harassed by the ancient religious obsession - then folded in on themselves, weary, unable to lift their heads.

The spirit of weakness that that same environment injected precisely to the sick and troubled, made the faithful of the assembly [or the habituals in it] totally passive.

A curved existence, dragged at least worse; without horizons.

Christ’s Action extracts from the addicted crowd, frees from conformity and massification. He puts back on its feet the faltering ‘woman’, who takes to praise God seriously, with joy, immediately (vv.12-13).

Figure who although "participated" in the rite, and always among the people gathered together. But before meeting the Lord personally she did not glorify the Father in a real way - nor did she honour his very existence.

No joyful expression for the healing, on the part of leaders - accustomed to inoculating in the souls a soporific climate - indeed, only condemnation. Illustrious and distant authorities.

Individualistic negotiators of the power on duty, incapable of proximity. This was also for various interests of circle, doctrine, supremacy, and institutional prestige.

Then - in the common idea - it seemed that in legalistic or rubricistic terms the sanctification of the day dedicated to the Lord excluded any involvement, and even good works!

In addition to this unhealthy belief, even touching a wounded "flesh" was imagined could make impure!

In short, the spirit of the commandment that imposed the Sabbath rest [historically born for the protection of vast social, cultic, and identity needs] had been completely manipulated and overthrown.

The logic of the young Rabbi is opposed to protocols: only the neglect of the marginalized and enslaved dishonours God.

The only non-negotiable principle is the good of the real woman and man: this is the only key to reading the Gospels.

And the rite must celebrate precisely a fraternal life of welcome and sharing, of happiness, personalization, care, love.

The rest is for Jesus an unbearable comedy, from which his church leaders must stay away: «Theatricals» (v.15) would also define them today - otherwise - our Lord.

We are worth much more than oxen and donkeys (vv.15-16).

The relationship with God is feast, healing, salvation: all concrete - fruit of choice, even social.

Spirituality not empty, and any - where the little ones are forced to delegate their dreams to others.

[Monday 30th wk. in O.T.  October 27, 2025]

Theatre actors and neutrality
(Luke 13:10-17)

Our passion for a full existence would like to guide us who knows where, but sometimes there is an external force that holds us back. A dark power that even prevents us from discovering our true nature.
The opinions of others, doctrines, customs, and common ideas, both old and new, stand in the way of the life that calls us, that makes us discover other things, that ignites passions, that wants totality, and activates transformation.
Meanwhile, the perception that we may be failing to follow the 'right' path creates external conflicts; it intimidates, causes suffering, induces guilt, and sometimes blocks the most sensitive souls.
Those who accuse us then leverage the fear of having to pay the price of freedom (of character and vocation) for any 'mistakes' we may encounter by straying from the prescribed path.
The same dynamics apply, on the one hand, to deference to customs and, on the other, to adherence to fashions, even the most sophisticated and 'up-to-date' ones.
Especially in cultures or religions without the leap of faith, all this takes root and causes discomfort; it makes us believe that we are much less than we should be.
Conversely, even if it seems that we are walking on reckless paths (but ones that belong to us), the risks could bring us joy, greater fulfilment and realisation.

As always, Jesus is present in the 'synagogue' not to recite codified prayers: he is among his people to 'teach' (v. 10).
In particular, he teaches that the Father is not in conflict with his subjects. On the contrary, he supports all his children and gives them a different posture from that of the 'animal' world - to which normal beliefs might perhaps reduce us.
At that time, no woman could participate directly in a liturgy, but in the Gospels, female figures are a parable of the people themselves [in Hebrew, the term Israel is feminine].
Luke brings a 'woman' onto the scene to allude to all oppressed figures, to whom the praying community sometimes offers no comfort or concrete action for emancipation.
People subjected to the 'cultural' paradigm of their particular environment and to the conditioning power of family tradition.
At that time, this cloak forcibly transmitted a paradigmatic spirituality that was reassuring but absolutely conformist.
The common people were completely subject to the head of the family; in addition, they were subject to political power and even enslaved to the fundamentalism of the religious authorities.
It was a humiliating, even atrocious, 'bestial' panorama.

The Lord is educating his intimates in a very decisive manner.
In the place of worship, the Master finds a subordinate humanity, a panorama of the lowly still oppressed by ancient religious obsession - therefore withdrawn, weakened, unable to lift their heads.
The spirit of weakness that this same environment instilled in the infirm made the faithful of the assembly (or those who frequented it) totally passive.
A hunched existence, dragged along as best they could, without horizons.
Christ's action draws out of the addicted crowd, frees them from conformism and massification, and puts the faltering 'woman' back on her feet, who immediately begins to praise God in earnest, with joy (vv. 12-13).
She was a figure who 'participated' in the ritual, and was always among the gathered people, but before meeting the Lord personally, she did not truly glorify the Father - nor did she honour her own existence.

There was no joyful expression of healing on the part of the religious leaders - accustomed to instilling a soporific atmosphere in souls - on the contrary, only condemnation. Distinguished and distant.
Individualistic negotiators of the power of the moment, incapable of closeness. This was also due to various interests of circles, doctrine, supremacy, and institutional prestige.
Then - in the common idea - it seemed that in legalistic or rubric terms, the sanctification of the day dedicated to the Lord excluded any involvement, and good works!
In addition to this unhealthy belief, even touching wounded 'flesh' was thought to make one impure!
In short, the spirit of the commandment that imposed rest on the Sabbath [historically created to protect vast social, cultural and identity needs] had been completely manipulated and overturned.

The young Rabbi's logic is opposed to the protocols: only the neglect of the marginalised and enslaved dishonours God.
The only non-negotiable principle is the good of real women and men: this is the only key to understanding the Gospels.
And the ritual must celebrate a fraternal life of welcome and sharing, of happiness, personalisation, care and love.
The rest is, for Jesus, an unbearable comedy, from which his church leaders must keep their distance: 'Theatre actors' (v. 15) is how our Lord would describe them even today, if not otherwise.

We are worth much more than oxen and donkeys (vv. 15-16).
Our relationship with God is a celebration, healing, salvation: all concrete - the result of choice, even social choice.
And finally, the new Magisterium also breaks away from the previous mentality, which was often diplomatic and neutral:
'Jesus' conclusion is a request: Go and do likewise (Lk 10:37). In other words, he challenges us to put aside all differences and, in the face of suffering, to draw close to everyone. Therefore, I no longer say that I have 'neighbours' to help, but that I feel called to become a neighbour to others" [Fratelli Tutti, n.81].
“Now this woman, being a daughter of Abraham […] should she not be freed from this bond on the Sabbath?” (Lk 13:16).

Spirituality that is not empty, and any kind of spirituality where the little ones are forced to delegate their dreams to others.

39. To suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves—these are fundamental elements of humanity, and to abandon them would destroy man himself. Yet once again the question arises: are we capable of this? Is the other important enough to warrant my becoming, on his account, a person who suffers? Does truth matter to me enough to make suffering worthwhile? Is the promise of love so great that it justifies the gift of myself? In the history of humanity, it was the Christian faith that had the particular merit of bringing forth within man a new and deeper capacity for these kinds of suffering that are decisive for his humanity. The Christian faith has shown us that truth, justice and love are not simply ideals, but enormously weighty realities. It has shown us that God —Truth and Love in person—desired to suffer for us and with us. Bernard of Clairvaux coined the marvellous expression: Impassibilis est Deus, sed non incompassibilis[29]—God cannot suffer, but he can suffer with. Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man in an utterly real way—in flesh and blood—as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus's Passion. Hence in all human suffering we are joined by one who experiences and carries that suffering with us; hence con-solatio is present in all suffering, the consolation of God's compassionate love—and so the star of hope rises. Certainly, in our many different sufferings and trials we always need the lesser and greater hopes too—a kind visit, the healing of internal and external wounds, a favourable resolution of a crisis, and so on. In our lesser trials these kinds of hope may even be sufficient. But in truly great trials, where I must make a definitive decision to place the truth before my own welfare, career and possessions, I need the certitude of that true, great hope of which we have spoken here. For this too we need witnesses—martyrs—who have given themselves totally, so as to show us the way—day after day. We need them if we are to prefer goodness to comfort, even in the little choices we face each day—knowing that this is how we live life to the full. Let us say it once again: the capacity to suffer for the sake of the truth is the measure of humanity. Yet this capacity to suffer depends on the type and extent of the hope that we bear within us and build upon. The saints were able to make the great journey of human existence in the way that Christ had done before them, because they were brimming with great hope. 

40. I would like to add here another brief comment with some relevance for everyday living. There used to be a form of devotion—perhaps less practised today but quite widespread not long ago—that included the idea of “offering up” the minor daily hardships that continually strike at us like irritating “jabs”, thereby giving them a meaning. Of course, there were some exaggerations and perhaps unhealthy applications of this devotion, but we need to ask ourselves whether there may not after all have been something essential and helpful contained within it. What does it mean to offer something up? Those who did so were convinced that they could insert these little annoyances into Christ's great “com-passion” so that they somehow became part of the treasury of compassion so greatly needed by the human race. In this way, even the small inconveniences of daily life could acquire meaning and contribute to the economy of good and of human love. Maybe we should consider whether it might be judicious to revive this practice ourselves.

[Pope Benedict, Spe Salvi]

1. When we speak of the dignity and mission of women according to the doctrine and spirit of the Church, we must look to the Gospel, which is the light by which Christians see, evaluate and judge everything.
In the previous catechesis, we saw how Revelation helps us to understand the identity and destiny of women, using the Virgin Mary as an example, according to what the Gospel says. But in that same divine source we find other signs of Christ's will regarding women. He speaks of them with respect and kindness, showing in his attitude a willingness to welcome women and to call upon them to commit themselves to the establishment of the Kingdom of God in the world.
2. We can recall first of all the numerous cases of women being healed (cf. John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem, 13). And those in which Jesus shows his heart as Saviour, full of tenderness when he encounters those who suffer, both men and women. "Do not weep!" he says to the widow of Nain (Lk 7:13). And then he restores her son, risen from the dead. This episode gives us some insight into Jesus' intimate feelings towards his mother, Mary, in the dramatic perspective of participating in his Passion and Death. Jesus also speaks tenderly to Jairus' dead daughter: "Little girl, I say to you, get up!" And, after raising her from the dead, he orders "give her something to eat" (Mk 5:41, 43). Again, he shows his sympathy for the bent woman, whom he heals: and in this case, with the allusion to Satan, he also makes us think of the spiritual salvation he brings to that woman (cf. Lk 13:10-17).
3. In other parts of the Gospel we find Jesus' admiration for the faith of certain women expressed. For example, in the case of the woman with the haemorrhage: "Your faith has saved you," he tells her (Mk 5:34). This praise is all the more valuable because the woman had been subject to segregation imposed by ancient law. Jesus also frees the woman from this social oppression. In turn, the Canaanite woman receives recognition from Jesus: "Woman, your faith is great" (Mt 15:28). It is a compliment that has special significance, considering that it was addressed to a foreigner in the world of Israel. We can also recall Jesus' admiration for the widow who offers her gift in the temple treasury (cf. Lk 21:1-4); and his appreciation for the service he receives from Mary of Bethany (cf. Mt 26:6-13; Mk 14:3-9; Jn 12:1-8), whose gesture, he announces, will be made known to the whole world.
4. Even in his parables, Jesus does not hesitate to use similes and examples drawn from the female world, unlike the midrash of the rabbis, where only male figures appear. Jesus refers to both women and men. If we wanted to make a comparison, we could perhaps say that the advantage lies with women. This means, at the very least, that Jesus avoids even the appearance of attributing inferiority to women.
Furthermore, Jesus opens the door to his Kingdom to women as well as to men. By opening it to women, he wants to open it to children. When he says, 'Let the children come to me' (Mark 10:14), he is reacting to the vigilance of the disciples who wanted to prevent women from presenting their children to the Master. It is as if he were agreeing with the women and their love for children!
In his ministry, Jesus is accompanied by many women who follow him and help him and the community of disciples (cf. Lk 8:1-3). This is a novelty compared to Jewish tradition. Jesus, who attracted these women to follow him, shows in this way how he overcame the prejudices prevalent in his environment, as in much of the ancient world, about the inferiority of women. His struggle against injustice and oppression also includes his rejection of discrimination between women and men in his Church (cf. John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem, 13).
5. We cannot fail to add that the Gospel also shows Jesus' benevolence towards certain sinners, whom he asks to repent, but without railing against them for their mistakes, especially since these involve the co-responsibility of men. Some episodes are truly significant: the woman who goes to the house of the Pharisee Simon (cf. Lk 7:36-50) is not only forgiven her sins, but also praised for her love; the Samaritan woman becomes a messenger of the new faith (cf. Jn 4:7-37); the adulterous woman receives, together with forgiveness, the simple exhortation not to sin again (cf. Jn 8:3-11); (John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem, 14). Without doubt, Jesus does not accept evil, sin, or anyone who commits it: but how much understanding he shows for human frailty and how much goodness he shows towards those who already suffer from their spiritual misery and, more or less consciously, seek the Saviour in him!
6. Finally, the Gospel says that Jesus expressly calls women to collaborate in his work of salvation. Not only does he allow them to follow him to help him and the community of disciples, but he also asks for other forms of personal commitment. Thus, he asks Martha to commit herself to faith (cf. Jn 11:26-27): and she, responding to the Master's invitation, makes her profession of faith before the resurrection of Lazarus. After the Resurrection, he entrusts to the pious women who had gone to the tomb and to Mary Magdalene the task of transmitting his message to the Apostles (cf. Mt 28:8-10; Jn 20:17-18): "The women were thus the first messengers of Christ's Resurrection to the Apostles themselves" (Cathechismus Catholicae Ecclesiae, 641). These are quite eloquent signs of his desire to involve women in the service of the Kingdom.
7. This behaviour of Jesus has its theological explanation in his intention to unify humanity. As St Paul says, he wanted to reconcile all people through his sacrifice, "in one body" and make them all "one new man" (Eph 2:15-16), so that now "there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:28). And here is the conclusion of our catechesis: if Jesus Christ has united men and women in the equality of their status as children of God, He commits both to His mission, not by suppressing diversity at all, but by eliminating all unjust inequality and reconciling everyone in the unity of the Church.
8. The history of the early Christian communities tells us how much women helped to spread the Gospel: starting with "Phebe, our sister," as St. Paul calls her, "deaconess of the Church of Cenchreae: . . . she has helped many, including myself" (Rom 16:1-2). I would like to pay tribute to her memory and to that of the many other women who collaborated with the Apostles in Cenchreae, in Rome and in all the Christian communities. With them, we also remember and praise all the other women - religious and lay - who over the centuries have borne witness to the Gospel and transmitted the faith, greatly influencing the growth of a Christian climate in the family and in society.
[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 6 July 1994]

There are five verbs of "closeness" that Jesus lives firsthand and which indicate the criteria of the "final protocol": seeing, calling, speaking, touching, and healing. Not only pastors, who are the first to run the risk of being "hypocrites," but all men will be judged on this. With the warning that fine words and good manners are not enough, because Jesus asks us to touch the flesh of others with our own hands, especially if they are suffering. This is "the way of the good shepherd" that the Pope pointed out in the Mass celebrated on Monday, 30 October, at Santa Marta.
'In this passage from the Gospel,' Francis immediately pointed out, referring to the passage from Luke (13:10-17), 'we find Jesus not on the road as was his custom, but in the synagogue: on the Sabbath, the community goes to the synagogue to pray, to listen to the word of God and also to the sermon; and Jesus was there, listening to the word of God'. But "he also taught, because he had authority, such great moral authority, that they invited him to say a word," precisely to "teach the people." And "in the synagogue there was a woman who was bent over, completely bent over, poor thing, and could not stand up straight: a disease of the spine that had kept her that way for years."
And "what does Jesus do? I am struck," the Pope confided, "by the verbs the evangelist uses to describe what Jesus did: 'he saw' her; 'he called' her; 'he said to her'; 'he laid his hands on her and healed her'." These are "five verbs of closeness."
First of all, the Pontiff explained, "Jesus approached her: the attitude of the good shepherd, closeness." Because "a good shepherd is always close: think of the parable of the good shepherd that Jesus preached," so "close" to the lost sheep that he leaves the others and goes to look for her.
After all, Francis said, "the good shepherd cannot be far from his people, and this is the sign of a good shepherd: closeness. Instead, the others, in this case the head of the synagogue, that small group of clerics, doctors of the law, some Pharisees, Sadducees, the illustrious, lived separated from the people, constantly rebuking them." But, the Pope reiterated, "these were not good shepherds; they were closed off in their own group and did not care about the people. Perhaps they cared, when the religious service was over, about going to see how much money there was in the offerings; that mattered to them, but they were not close to the people, they were not close to the people."
This is why "Jesus always presents himself in this way, close," the Pontiff pointed out. And "many times in the Gospel it appears that closeness comes from what Jesus feels in his heart: 'Jesus was moved,' says a passage from the Gospel, for example, he feels mercy, he draws near." For this reason, "Jesus was always there with the people discarded by that small clerical group: there were the poor, the sick, the sinners, the lepers: they were all there because Jesus had this ability to be moved by illness; he was a good shepherd." And "a good shepherd draws near and has the ability to be moved."
"And I will say," Francis affirmed, "that the third trait of a good shepherd is not to be ashamed of the flesh, to touch the wounded flesh, as Jesus did with this woman: 'he touched', 'he laid his hands on', he touched the lepers, he touched the sinners." It is "a very close closeness, very close." Touching "the flesh," therefore. Because "a good shepherd does not say: 'But, yes, it's okay, yes, yes, I am close to you in spirit'." In reality, "this is a distance" and not closeness.
Instead, the Pope insisted, "the good shepherd does what God the Father did, drawing near, out of compassion, out of mercy, in the flesh of his Son. This is a good shepherd." And 'the great shepherd, the Father, taught us how to be a good shepherd: he lowered himself, he emptied himself, he annihilated himself, he took the form of a servant'.
This is precisely 'the way of the good shepherd', explained the Pontiff. And here we may ask ourselves: ' But what about the others, those who follow the path of clericalism, who do they approach?" These people, Francis replied, "always approach either the power of the moment or money, and they are bad shepherds: they only think about how to climb the ladder of power, be friends with those in power, and negotiate everything or think about their pockets, and these are the hypocrites, capable of anything." Certainly, "these people do not care about the people. And when Jesus calls them that beautiful adjective he uses so often with them — 'hypocrites' — they are offended: 'But we, no, we follow the law'." Instead, "the people were happy: it is a sin for the people of God to see when bad shepherds are beaten; it is a sin, yes, but they have suffered so much that they 'enjoy' this a little bit."
"Let us think," suggests the Pontiff, "of the good shepherd, let us think of Jesus who sees, calls, speaks, touches and heals; let us think of the Father who becomes flesh in his Son, out of compassion." And "this is the way of the good shepherd, the shepherd we see here today, in this passage from the Gospel: it is a grace for the people of God to have good shepherds, shepherds like Jesus, who are not ashamed to touch wounded flesh, who know that on this — not only them, but all of us — we will be judged: I was hungry, I was in prison, I was sick... '.
'The criteria of the final protocol,' concluded the Pope, 'are the criteria of closeness, the criteria of this total closeness' in order to 'touch, share the situation of God's people'. And 'let us not forget this: the good shepherd always draws close to the people, always, just as God our Father drew close to us, in Jesus Christ made flesh'.
[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano, 31 October 2017]

(Lk 18:9-14)

Mechanism of retribution denies the essential experience of the life of Faith: ‘allowing oneself to be a saved person, living from Mystery’ - instead of the closed circle of narrow “justices” that have nowhere to go.

To introduce oneself into the newness of Christ it’s enough to have met oneself and to be sincere: a strange holiness, accessible to all.

It comes to reality, even the most intimate: we are not omnipotent in goodness; we cannot do much good, from sophistication, from ideas, from muscles.

By leaving room for the Father's intervention, we learn to trust in what we receive, more than relying on the expectations even of others, or on what is proposed and imposed.

Our concrete history can be reflected in the form of Prayer. But if dialogue with God doesn’t emerge from a penetrating perception and is satisfied with external goals, Listening becomes empty.

The spirit of “greatness” (also moral and spiritual) sinks inexorably - and into true misery: the epidermal one.

It doesn’t see the Father's exceptionality: He who transmits life.

Those who live by comparisons and have a contemptuous evaluation of the considered inferior ones, do not enjoy openings.

They remain without space or time for the action of the multifaceted being, in the variety of situations.

They misplace themselves in front of God and neighbor - denying themselves the joy of Gratis and Novelty.

In this way, they never trust in what’s more reliable than a worldview, or in their own leadership initiatives.

They do not grasp anything they do not already know, because they do not read inside.

They are in constant monologue: with themselves [but never reaching the self’s bottom] and those of their own circle.

So they don't pour out happiness - which comes from amazement.

In all circumstances, they find only a theater, an echo’s rumble of others’ voices, and around them.

Not the intimacy of exceptional and beloved person as it is.

The subject of archaic religious life is in fact “the our" - the ego.

If Jesus had asked which of the two could return home justified, everyone would have pointed to the pharisee, the reserved one apart.

In the life of Faith, the Subject is instead the Mystery, the Eternal, the Living One.

It’s He who works, by creating: and only He acts here too.

He justifies, that is, He places justice where there is none. The self-sufficient person has no need.

This is the real and royal Principle, engine of our realization and of authentic prayer-hearing, stripped of merits and pride, but capable of recovering the ‘opposite sides’.

God fears flawless liturgies and individual prayers in which nothing happens and from which one comes out without having experienced his «Creative Action» and his forgiveness.

Work not ours. Energy and sting that even in our innermost being brings us an Alliance of ‘faces’, a conviviality of differences.

In the spiritual and social life of the "polyhedron" and of the daily brief, we are enabled to translate the need for a ‘jointing-sentiment’, which the Father communicates in a broad manner, and giving us time.

Much more than a struggle between opposing worldviews: divine Justice is unprecedented, and growing - it cannot be bought by manner deeds.

To internalize and live the message:

When do I see myself as a pharisee and when publican?

How can I meet myself, by contemplating God? And while I meet others?

[30th Sunday in O.T. (year C), October 26, 2025]

Pharisee-publican: the two souls, and the essential Mystery

(Lk 18:9-14)

Says the Tao Tê Ching (x): "Preserve the One by dwelling in the two souls: are you able to keep them from separating?".

The many conventional depictions and interpretations of the episode lead us astray.

The one parable set in the Temple is a volcano of paradoxical, extraordinary scope that you would not expect.

The Jews pray standing, a sign of their readiness to immediately put into action what the Lord asks.

For us, standing means that we celebrate as risen children.

But here the phenomenon of religiosity and morality "standing, he prayed thus to himself" (v.11): he does not converse with God, nor does he realise anything!

Perhaps he is convinced he is praying, but he is doing something else entirely: he does not listen, he does not pay attention, he does not perceive the message and the meaning of the presence, he just distances himself from it.

I remember in the great hall of the Apostolic Penitentiary the epigraph 'Pax omnium rerum tranquillitas ordinis'.

A mentality that, if mediated by approximate moralisms, does not stay with us; it neither brings us, nor infuses us with depth and relationships.

On this basis, if the two protagonists of the passage had presented themselves in confession, I would have sentenced: the Pharisee lacks humility, the other repays the damage.

Even the head of L'Osservatore Romano reiterates the motto-epigraph 'Unicuique Suum' - a fundamental principle of property law in the Latin world.

Isn't Justice enough? [Would Jesus be needed?]

The point is: to know Love, a rich reality: not to exchange favours with God. And take the position that does not pollute or corrupt life. That is the whole game.

"I renounce, I leave everything, I leave, I think, I say, I plan, I will be impeccable and faithful by always making others see me "in my way" [i.e. as I am not]": this is the ideal nursery rhyme that overturns the adventure of Faith.

The subject of the religious man is himself and what he does for God - as well as how he acts (in an artificial way); so on.

Ridiculous - not just deeply reductive. But from this idea springs the consideration of the other and the different as irredeemable.

Instead, each person's life is full of inner antinomies and stand-ins.

Let us try to turn the parable around from a moralistic level to a theological one, because Lk - mind you - stages the best of spirituality and the worst of the morality of the time.

Here is his boomerang: he wants to start a reflection on ourselves.

"Thieves": Jesus defines as such precisely the religious leaders and the "Pharisees" [back], inside full of robbery, although on the outside they look like who knows what. 

"Unjust": [just to make a long story short] St Theresa said that God is just because he takes our difficulties into account.

"Adulterers": but theological adultery is precisely queuing up to an idol (here the father-ego contemplating the external self).

In the biblical concept, 'adultery' properly means an improper devotional relationship, as with an inauthentic deity.

In this way, even an impeccable formal relationship - and vice versa - takes the side of the fetish.

In short, the 'saint' does not address the Father, but the God-form he has in mind - although he even wants to impress him with exaggerations (v.12).

But he does not agree with the thought of the Eternal.

He does not perceive the plan of the Most High: to build up the human family. To help one another, and enrich one another.

So he will never allow himself to be changed - even convinced that he is exactly reproducing his tutelary genius.

For the professionals of the sacred mania for false perfection, Salvation is the final prize of an individual climb.

Not the re-creative and gratuitous Work of a Parent who ferries our complex vicissitudes, leaving space and way for them to evolve into a saved life.

Thus, both personal and communal experience is inculcated, because standard 'religion' inculcates and retains a deformed image of one's character, and of the Ideal.

The Almighty in Love takes on in the unconscious the guise of the Master of Heaven, earth, and the underworld - distributor of rewards and punishments.

Here, devotion will sooner or later rhyme with 'separation'.

Instead, Justification alludes to a sharper, more respectful, wise arrangement.

Position towards God [who is not a notary] and towards humanity, which is all ours; it would be puerile to have contempt for it.

Genuineness and Spirit go in synergy.

No one is recommended by Christ to "make himself holy" or "separate", as recommended by the ancient Law (Lev 19:2) and by a whole archaic spirituality.

The new criterion is inclusive: the conviviality of differences and the fruitful recovery of opposites. Precisely, the Love that flourishes in naturalness.

If we really want, the meaning of the journey in the Spirit could be identified in the critical passage from the First to the New Testament.

But it would still be too banal to imagine that in the Old God is forensic Judge and in the New "judge of the heart".The Justification that the Father works concerns the intimate form of what "moves", and the sense of what motivates and prods us.

The misguided scientists of the pious life have always portrayed Salvation as the ultimate prize of a gruelling climb.

A poor, well-motivated, yet plagued, harassed and misguided soul used to tell me: 'the more you climb the more you acquire'.

Instead, when God works, He creates, placing us in the right attitude and leading us in a fruitful direction - not said uphill.

All for the purpose of fulfilling and completing us, not to exhaust and annihilate the bearing lines of our personality, unrepeatable, incomparable.

A configuration of balances that we know well is not ordinary, not mechanical, not predictable.

The Father is not a coach who only delights in the strongest of his forwards.

He is not attracted by the virtues of the few, but by the many needs of all.

While waiting for unresolved solutions, he does not look at the merits of people, but at their need to be completed.

Therefore he who does good deserves absolutely nothing: he only has to thank Providence, which has led him early on the road to an experience of fullness of being, on the Path of Joy.

Sticking to his trunk, the arrogant veteran of the sacred and of discipline (and of respectable or veteran ways) remains there.

Mired in the self-satisfied 'his' - bent over the navel of the works of law with which he wanted to buy God's approval - artificially showing himself to be his friend.

And he returns home, that is, to the community (v.14), the same as before: one-sided, like a sphinx.

They are the whitewashed sepulchres before whom we must bow down to kiss the sacred slippers, otherwise we do not pass.

They are the separated from the rest of the crowd, because for them people can only be: helpful, or annoying.

There is nothing to do. Certain complacent and self-sufficient people, who have never experienced humus and gratis, God cannot make them right.

They are not accustomed to look at reality, not even their own - but to emphasise every separation he disdains. And only what is prescribed; from which there is no escape.

They seem to be men all of a piece and possess a high sense of divine exclusivity.

Yet there are no deep spiritual energies in them - those who know how to see beyond to the most varied fragrances.

The first not to know how to entrust themselves to the Mystery, they continue to plague the air, certain of their spiritual rank and accolades - claiming (of course) duties wherever they concede.

Not even the Father can justify them, that is, place them in the right place before Him and their brothers.

The sense of holiness by which they feel cloaked leads them to the disdain of others, and there is no way around it.

How can we also discern the traces of religious conceit in ourselves? This is the relevant theme of the parable (v.9).

From the Prayer itself, it is clear that our very face possesses a hammering, devilish image of the Eternal.

Like one who is an accountant, that is, who pays according to merit and punishes according to fault.

Whereas the biblical God gives in pure loss. Why?

In the Spirit we grasp an energy that must do its work in the moment [so frequently without equal], or in the even disjointed rhythm of multiple happenings and relationships.

Here we sense the partial and paradoxical deity of the 'fellow travellers' - such as the blameless and the sinner, who remind us of the Mission.

Co-present characters in the soul: unique deviations that complement and perfect, becoming our unrepeatable Originality.

Life of Faith and Prayer do bring healing, but sometimes they seem to disappear, as if we were approaching the transgressor of the Gospel.

They give answers, but sometimes they also seem fortuitous.

They have the same disorganised and interrupted pace (the real change comes unexpectedly) but the same symbiotic composition, structure, complex figure, of a shrub and love.

A beautiful lush plant has its seasons; not even it dreams of possessing a connotation without nuances and opposing sides.

It may be disconcerting, but the realities of nature do not dispense with the roots because they mingle with muck, slime, darkness and worms - creeping parasites; like the publican, immersed in sin up to his neck.

If a rose were to cut off the hidden, festering base from which it rises, the whole plant would collapse, losing even its spectacular individuality.

It is the confusion - even fetid and nauseating confusion - that creates a fertile soil welcoming all roles, and the non-monochromatic ripening space open to every strand of life.

There are seemingly obscuring phases and presences to take note of, on which we are as if sitting.

Almost in a reversal of plans, it is the encounter with our shadows that makes us soar and affirm.

The Pharisee's merit, and the publican's need, are symbiotic aspects.By ancient upbringing to believe the codes, we are almost dazed by novelty.

But we can only plant the seed of growth by embracing life without presumptuous expectations.

From discriminating certainties, induced maniacal intentions, obvious platitudes, no development, no realisation, no blossoming with exponential results - in all our sides - comes.

Even in love, for example, we do not want to fixate on a false idea, made up of prejudices, ideological schemes, and divisions.

Then - but precisely in order to save ourselves - frailties surface.

They can lead us to dependence, but also to seeking new communication, for a better completeness.

If the past remains a primordial totem, as artificial as sophisticated, disembodied ideologies - everything becomes fantasy, regret, confusion, disaster.

On the spiritual path, woe betide the great artificial loves, with their enveloping and overflowing, yet aseptic charm.

Frenzy that invades and occupies life, blocks and repudiates every project; it does not free the soul from distinctions.

It does not allow new destinies to be noticed. It makes us abdicate. It settles us on the surface and does not overturn destinies (cf. v.14).

Thus our natural, emotional and supernatural organism: convinced only of something and unable to break those compartments.

It would die - if it lost the completeness of polarities, the most obvious spontaneity, and was sterilised. Transmitting its own death, all around.

As in created realities, in the spiritual vicissitude it is the contradictory sides that compose the wealth of faculties, inclinations, destinies, faces, and capacities.

Sometimes it is precisely the particular crises to be faced with special qualities and specific resources not in line with the usual or imperative inclinations - that bring us back on our true path.

It is in the ceaseless Encounter with the crowd of characters intimate to us, and in turning around to notice and perceive, that the limiting caducity is decanted, and man is unified.

All this so that he becomes solid and open, reliable and creative, capable of being both inside and outside the home.

And the Father gives us time for a varied formation, to wait until we encounter every facet in the ambivalence of the process.

Too many filters, too many censorships, too many brakes, would not prepare the evolutionary metamorphosis that belongs to us: the one that is able to overcome difficult moments not with a laboured or sweaty opening, but with a dream, and with the caress of a real twist.

In the oration-monologue, the narcissist that we sometimes are, merely informs the motionless Principle of his achievements, because he sees nothing but himself.

But he neither rules nor regulates what is human or divine.

Nor does he wonder to which God he is addressing himself, and in what posture he stands.

He has not prayed, he has not tuned his thoughts to those of the Father. He has only wearied souls, extinguished and ruined relationships.

He is in a position of cynicism and inability to grasp the distance between the true man and the Creator.

This prevents him from surrendering to Him, and not surrendering makes the ability to receive a new Vocation within the Vocation [which is never 'right' and satisfactory] pale.

Believes perfection as a safe harbour; imagines reflecting God on earth, having the same mentality and His same relationships...

After all, the unkind, resolute, closed-circle friends he associates with would be the same as his well-shaped but worthless Totem.

Like him, they too remain in the static sphere, devoid of desire - but with a mountain of scruples. Or without a reality principle.

A milieu of the petty and ridiculous: measured men, as infantile as their object (subject) of worship, namely the self - which sees no further than the pond of dead water at hand.

The drawing-room 'Pharisee' or devotee is not even touched by doubt.

A dangerous position, which will never allow one to reflect on the innermost paradoxes that start and restart the Exodus, activating new passions.

Fearing what ends, it will never experience the ineffable Joy of the Gift now, which ignites history and changes lives.

Nothing in terms of astonishment is inaugurated, based on an identity of characteristics or views.

This is especially so if the distinctive lines remain imprisoned in the past (or future). If they remain, in the way of living and understanding 'of before' (or 'of after') that returns to direct us.

And they do not trust the Love that prepares the fruit of the Spirit: it is coming; as it is.

He who has no lapidary certainties, does not let himself be led in an artificial manner.

Rather, he lets himself be taken as if by a current of insecurity, which will nevertheless lead him to know profound Happiness, the great flourishing.

The breaking of the waters of a further birth: life in the round.

In short, once habits, abstract ideas, identifications, common opinions, even glamorous fashions have been put in the background, the founding Eros of our personal Calling will still be able to take the field.Gaining migrations, manifesting all its Fire.

In life we have been victims, sometimes even executioners.

God knows this and allows our freedom to emerge: conversely, in any enclosure, in any cadenced choice, the possibilities of the inner world remain closed.

So - to question ourselves - we give the no-moments, the opposing presences and preferences, as well as the most unexpected voices from within.

Other profiles, which also belong to us; anything other than the ways of being we already know [they have not yet expressed themselves, but sooner or later they will want to find space].

Simply, it is good to take on their traits - and to house them in us in an absolutely honest way.

So that they do not become lacerating disorders, or to be supplemented with perversions, profiteering, the exercise of power, sectarian attitudes: bad habits, barely covered by affable stylistic features.

The buried and perhaps as yet undiscovered sides are not meant to disturb the fundamental option to goodness, but the useless, all-predictable existence.

They are as many Calls, surprising, but which by innate force know where to lead us.

There are paths that belong to us that have not yet emerged, or of which we have lost memory.

Thus, precisely by virtue of such inner congeries - phase after phase - the character that is pertinent to the person... spontaneously and providentially traces its course.

Only if we are impregnated with that which is infinite and at the same time with that which lies at the base of the soul, will our Pharisee self not detach itself from the publican self.

Mouldable energies, faces that correspond to us deeply and in fact; masters of practice and concept; not of manners.

They are in varying mixtures and according to the ages of life, the real facets of our variegated spiritual essence.

Binary tracks that run below or parallel, but sometimes intersect and outclass each other, creating a magma that waits moment by moment to be performed.

To realise the Destination that is all ours, there have already been many doors to open.

And we have frequently verified that the Flower we sought was hiding right among our ailments.

So much for already considering ourselves close to Paradise!

Well: God introduces us into another kind of coexistence, within and without: balance, serenity, Communion.

For in that which truly impels to the eternal, everything is recovered. In the Fullness, nothing is separated from nothing.

It is the authentic turning point, which gives dignity to what happens. And it opens the door to Completion.

Reiterates the Tao (xxvii):

"That is why the saint always well helps men and therefore there are no rejected men, always well helps creatures and therefore there are no rejected creatures; this is called transfusing illumination. Thus the man who is good is master of the man who is not good, the man who is not good is profit to the good man. Whoever does not appreciate such a master, whoever does not cherish such a profit, even if he is wise falls into grave deception: this is called the essential mystery".

To internalise and live the message:

When do I meet myself as a Pharisee and when as a publican?

How can I meet myself contemplating God? And by encountering others?

When God comes close to you, do you abandon yourself or do you fear what will end?

What were the experiences of undeserved love that changed your life?

Have you found greater understanding within or outside the Church? From friends and acquaintances or from supertitles of the sacred? How so?

“Two men went up into the temple to pray”; the one “went down to his house justified rather than the other” (Lk 18:10, 14). The latter had paraded all his merits before God, virtually making God his debtor. Deep down, he felt no need for God, even though he thanked him for letting him become so perfect, “not like this tax collector”. And yet it was the tax collector who went down to his house justified. Conscious of his sins, and so not even lifting his head – although in his trust he is completely turned towards Heaven – he awaits everything from the Lord: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Lk 18:13). He knocks on the door of mercy, which then opens and justifies him, for, as Jesus concludes: “everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk 18:14).

Saint Paul, the patron saint of the city of Luanda and of this splendid church built some fifty years ago, speaks to us from personal experience about this God who is rich in mercy. I wanted to highlight the second millennium of the birth of Saint Paul by celebrating the present Pauline Year, so that we can learn from him how to know Jesus Christ more fully. This is the testimony which Paul has bequeathed to us: “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. And I am the foremost of sinners; but I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience for an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life” (1 Tim 1:15-16). In the course of the centuries, the number of people touched by grace has continually grown. You and I are among them. Let us give thanks to God because he has called us to be part of this age-long procession and thus to advance towards the future. In the footsteps of all Jesus’ followers, let us join them in following Christ himself and thus enter into the Light.

[Pope Benedict, homily, Luanda, 21 March 2009]

It is his Love that triumphs over death and gives us eternity and it is this love that we call "Heaven": God is so great that he also makes room for us. And Jesus the man, who at the same time is God, is the guarantee for us that the being-man and the being-God can exist and live, the one within the other, for eternity. 

This means that not only a part of each one of us will continue to exist, as it were pulled to safety, while other parts fall into ruin; on the contrary it means that God knows and loves the whole of the human being, what we are. And God welcomes into his eternity what is developing and becoming now, in our life made up of suffering and love, of hope, joy and sorrow. The whole of man, the whole of his life, is taken by God and, purified in him, receives eternity. Dear Friends! I think this is a truth that should fill us with deep joy. Christianity does not proclaim merely some salvation of the soul in a vague afterlife in which all that is precious and dear to us in this world would be eliminated, but promises eternal life, "the life of the world to come". Nothing that is precious and dear to us will fall into ruin; rather, it will find fullness in God. Every hair of our head is counted, Jesus said one day (cf. Mt 10: 30). The definitive world will also be the fulfilment of this earth, as St Paul says: "Creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God" (Rom 8: 21). Then we understand that Christianity imparts a strong hope in a bright future and paves the way to the realization of this future. We are called, precisely as Christians, to build this new world, to work so that, one day, it may become the "world of God", a world that will surpass all that we ourselves have been able to build. In Mary taken up into Heaven, who fully shares in the Resurrection of the Son, we contemplate the fulfilment of the human creature in accordance with "God's world". 

Let us pray the Lord that he will enable us to understand how precious in his eyes is the whole of our life; may he strengthen our faith in eternal life; make us people of hope who work to build a world open to God, people full of joy who can glimpse the beauty of the future world amidst the worries of daily life and in this certainty live, believe and hope. Amen!

[Pope Benedict, homily, 15 August 2010]