Today’s Gospel reading offers three parables through which Jesus speaks to the crowds about the Kingdom of God. I will focus on the first: that of the good wheat and the weeds, which illustrates the problem of evil in the world and highlights God’s patience (cf. Mt 13:24-30, 36-43). How much patience God has! Each one of us too can say this: “How much patience God has!”. The narrative takes place in a field with two antagonists. On one side is the master of the field, who represents God and who sows good seed; on the other is the enemy, who represents Satan and scatters weeds.

As time passes, the weeds grow among the wheat, and the master and his servants express different opinions regarding this fact. The servants would like to intervene and uproot the weeds; but the master, who is concerned above all with saving the wheat, is against this, saying: “No; lest in gathering the weeds you root up the wheat along with them” (v. 29). With this image, Jesus tells us that in this world good and evil are so intertwined that it is impossible to separate them and eradicate all evil. God alone can do this, and he will do so at the Last Judgment. With its ambiguities and its composite character, the present situation is the field of freedom, the field of Christian freedom, in which the difficult exercise of discernment is made between good and evil.

This field then, involves reconciling, with great trust in God and in his providence, two seemingly contradictory approaches: decision and patience. Decision is that of wanting to be good wheat — we all want this — with all our might, and thus keeping away from the evil one and his seduction. Patience means preferring a Church that acts as leaven in the dough, that is unafraid to sully her hands washing her children’s clothes, rather than a Church of “purists” who presume to judge ahead of time who will be in the Kingdom of God and who will not.

Today the Lord, who is Wisdom incarnate, helps us to understand that good and evil cannot be identified with neatly defined areas or specific human groups: “These are the good, those are the bad”. He tells us that the boundary line between good and evil passes through the heart of each person; it passes through the heart of each of us, that is: We are all sinners. I would like to ask you: “Whoever is not a sinner raise your hand”. No one! Because we are all sinners, all of us are. Jesus Christ, with his death on the Cross and his Resurrection, has freed us from the slavery of sin and given us the grace to journey in a new life; but along with Baptism he also gave us Confession, because we all need to be forgiven for our sins. Looking always and only at the evil that is outside of us means not wanting to recognize the sin that is also inside us. 

Then Jesus teaches us a different way of looking at the field of the world, of observing reality. We are called to learn God’s time — which is not our time — and also God’s “gaze”: thanks to the beneficial influence of uneasy anticipation, what were weeds or seemed to be weeds can become a good product. It is the reality of conversion. It is the prospect of hope!

May the Virgin Mary help us to accept, in the reality that surrounds us, not only filth and evil, but also good and beauty; to unmask the work of Satan, but above all to trust in the action of God who fertilizes history.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 23 July 2017]

For a lightness without masks

(Mt 12:14-21)

The authorities condemn Jesus to death. The insignificant people await him, as their only hope.

They feel that there is still much to find, and that only He can inspire their action, thus opening them to Rebirth.

Persons sense harmony with the young Master who has chosen their social class, that of the shaky, considered wrong and disconcerting.

The hard and stifled existence of the little ones has taught them to be always ready for surprises, for new actions; even for destabilizing crises:

Best way to stay hooked to life and to the very possibility of achieving it, by activating it from the Hiding.

In the clamor and social approval, which denies the problems, their Mission would remain distorted.

While the externality of the leaders does not give in to dedication, to breaking themselves - even from their innermost.

So it does not become new consciousness.

Sick of grandeur and longing for tranquillity, the ancient political and religious leaders project into the idea of the Messiah their being double, corrupt and artificial, only showy.

Unable to cope with everyday life - and make themselves available.

They do not understand the discreet Power of the Lord, his wise energy [and modest style] with lasting advantages.

They are willing to stun the despondent people, and they gladly do so with models, comparisons, evaluations, empty formulas, and incitements overflowing with reserves.

But they remain at a safe distance as far as living together, sharing, and cheering up others’ lives.

They continue to pass judgement but without giving anything, let alone offering themselves – and converting to the poor, except to manipulate them.

Their aversion to Christ - who came for the redemption of the «multitudes» [vv.15.18.21] - clashed precisely with the incessant need of the persons.

People know their own (all real) mud fabric, and they want emancipation.

Without subterfuge, they present themselves unmasks.

Today, as then, the Silence of the Lord's Anointed One [unmanipulated] is re-proposed in His authentic witnesses - overcoming the temptation of spectacle.

By surpassing the craze for the extraordinary; for propaganda and advertising aimed at proselytism and personal self-interest.

God knows that Shadow side is prophecy and the future germ: best part of His People, and of us.

To internalize and live the message:

Are there ambiguous individuals inclined to value normalised interventions, who consider your Mission distorted by Silence?

Do you think your realization is stifled by the Hiding? Or vice versa activated?

[Saturday 15th wk. in O.T.  July 18, 2026]

For lightness without masks

(Mt 12:14-21)

"He will not quarrel or scold, nor will anyone hear his voice in the squares. A cracked reed he will not break and a smoking lamp he will not extinguish, until he has brought judgment to victory. And in his name shall the nations hope" (Mt 12:19-20).

The authorities condemn Jesus to death because He dared to expose the malignity of their mercenary expedients (an art in which they are masters).

Instead of becoming educators, the leaders of official religiosity remain the protagonists of a pyramidal, oppressive structure.

The ostracised and rejected, on the other hand, alienated and outcast from society and from the circle of the 'greats', present themselves to the Lord without masks, with many insecurities and ailments.

They realise that the humanising and divine being remains exactly opposite to that of those who represent them. According to what the people hoped for in their hearts, without subterfuge; at their disposal.

Not an all-powerful master, who would make the path of the elect more comfortable and prestigious.

On the contrary, because there are many daily and inner problems that deserve greater Presence.

The 'best' of the world (even the pious) mock the Father's Face. The little people wait for Him, await Him as their only hope.

They sense that there is still much to be found, and that only He can inspire their actions, thus opening them to Rebirth.

They feel in tune with the young Master who has chosen their social class, that of the unfortunate, considered wrong and disconcerting, but who every day brings up the same problem of God in a forthright manner.

Feeling like a person and letting oneself be set free is the motif of the whole sacred story: the fruit of Exodus that breaks bounded bonds.

It shatters them, because it even favours the itinerant coming and going of the inexperienced person who seeks and allows himself to be questioned - the opposite of the false 'staying put'.

That which is not made of affective tonality and deep emotional weight, yet constantly asks to be taken in charge and in consciousness.

The hard and stifled life of the Little Ones has taught them to always be ready for surprises, for new actions; even for destabilising crises.

This is the best way to stay hooked on life and the very possibility of realising it, activating it from the hiding place.

In the clamour and social approval, which denies the problems, their Mission would remain distorted.

While the outwardness of the leaders does not yield to dedication, to breaking - even from within.

Thus it does not become a new consciousness.

Sick of grandeur and craving for tranquillity, the ancient political and religious leaders project into the idea of the Messiah their own double, corrupt and contrived being, only conspicuous.

Unable to measure themselves against the summary.

They do not understand the discreet power of the Lord, his wise energy (and dim style), with lasting benefits.

They are willing to stun disheartened people, and they do so gladly with models, comparisons, budgets, empty formulas, and overflowing incitements.

But they remain at a safe distance when it comes to living together, sharing, and cheering up.

They continue to judge, but without giving anything, let alone giving themselves - and converting to the poor, without manipulating them.

Their aversion to Christ - who came for the redemption of the 'multitudes' (vv.15.18.21) - clashes precisely with the people's incessant need.

The people know their own fabric of all-too-real mud, and they long for emancipation.

Today, as then, the Silence of the Lord's true Anointed [who re-proposes himself in his authentic witnesses] overcomes the temptation of the spectacular.

It overcomes the mania of the extraordinary; of that which is propaganda and publicity for the sake of proselytism and currency.

We too preserve the characteristics of the Master's Work, whose universally beneficial Action we continue.

We wish to correspond, in the discretion and small simplicity of an unknown, but forward-looking life.

God knows that the Shadow side is sometimes the best part of His people, and of us.

To internalise and live the message:

Are there ambiguous people inclined to value normalised - i.e. prodigious - interventions who consider your Mission distorted by Silence?

Do you yourself feel that your realisation is stifled by the Silence? Or vice versa activated?

At this point, I would also like to thank most heartily all those people throughout the world who in these recent weeks have sent me moving expressions of concern, friendship and prayer. Yes, the Pope is never alone; now I once again experience this so overwhelmingly that my heart is touched. The Pope belongs to everyone and so many persons feel very close to him. It is true that I receive letters from world leaders – from heads of state, from religious leaders, from representatives of the world of culture, and so on. But I also receive many many letters from ordinary people who write to me simply and from the heart, and who show me their affection, an affection born of our being together with Christ Jesus, in the Church. These people do not write to me in the way one writes, for example, to a prince or some important person whom they do not know. They write to me as brothers and sisters, as sons and daughters, with a sense of a very affectionate family bond. Here one can sense palpably what the Church is – not an organization, an association for religious or humanitarian ends, but a living body, a communion of brothers and sisters in the Body of Christ, which makes us all one. To experience the Church in this way and to be able as it were to put one’s finger on the strength of her truth and her love, is a cause for joy at a time when so many people are speaking of her decline. But we see how the Church is alive today! […]

I also thank each and every one of you for the respect and understanding with which you have accepted this important decision. I will continue to accompany the Church’s journey with prayer and reflection, with that devotion to the Lord and his Bride which I have hitherto sought to practise daily and which I would like to practise always.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 27 February 2013]

He is Son, and he has made himself 'servant'!

Today's liturgy speaks explicitly of this in the words of the book of Isaiah: "Behold my servant whom I uphold, / my chosen one in whom I am well pleased, / I have set my spirit upon him; / he shall bring forth the right to the nations" (Is 42:1).

Jesus Christ: Son who became a servant. The Baptism in the Jordan fully reconfirms this: Jesus presents himself to John to be baptised; but the latter tries to prevent him by saying: "I need to be baptised by you and you come to me?" (Mt 3:14).

As if he wanted to say: "You who are the bearer of saving Grace and Lord of our salvation". Jesus, however, replies: "Let it be for now, for thus we fulfil all righteousness" (Mt 3:15).

Jesus receives Baptism from John: the Baptism of Penance. In this way he manifests himself as the servant of our redemption. He comes as the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world (cf. Jn 1:29, 36). He bears within himself the will of obedience to the Father even unto death.

He comes as the one who "will not break a cracked reed, / will not quench a wick with a dull flame" (Is 42:3).

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus 13 January 1985]

When we allow the convenience of habit and the dictatorship of prejudice to have the upper hand, it is difficult to open ourselves to what is new and allow ourselves to be amazed. We control: through attitudes, through prejudices… It often happens in life that we seek from our experiences and even from people only what conforms to our own ideas and ways of thinking so as never to have to make an effort to change. And this can even happen with God, and even to us believers, to us who think we know Jesus, that we already know so much about Him and that it is enough to repeat the same things as always. And this is not enough with God. But without openness to what is new and, above all – listen well – openness to God’s surprises, without amazement, faith becomes a tiring litany that slowly dies out and becomes a habit, a social habit.

I said a word: amazement. What is amazement? Amazement happens when we meet God: “I met the Lord”. But we read in the Gospel: many times the people who encountered Jesus and recognised him felt amazed. And we, by encountering God, must follow this path: to feel amazement. It is like the guarantee certificate that the encounter is true and not habitual.

In the end, why didn’t Jesus’s fellow villagers recognise and believe in Him? But why? What is the reason? In a few words, we can say that they did not accept the scandal of the Incarnation. They did not know this mystery of the Incarnation, but they did not accept the mystery: they did not know it. They did not know the reason and they thought it was scandalous that the immensity of God should be revealed in the smallness of our flesh, that the Son of God should be the son of a carpenter, that the divine should be hidden in the human, that God should inhabit a face, the words, the gestures of a simple man. This is the scandal: the incarnation of God, his concreteness, his ‘daily life’. And God became concrete in a man, Jesus of Nazareth, he became a companion on the way, he made himself one of us. “You are one of us”, we can say to Jesus. What a beautiful prayer! It is because one of us understands us, accompanies us, forgives us, loves us so much. In reality, an abstract, distant god is more comfortable, one that doesn’t get himself involved in situations and who accepts a faith that is far from life, from problems, from society. Or we would even like to believe in a ‘special effects’ god who does only exceptional things and always provokes strong emotions.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 4 July 2021]

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)   [19 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Wisdom (12:3, 16–19)

The Book of Wisdom, written in Greek by a Jew from Alexandria shortly before the coming of Christ, is addressed to people steeped in Greek culture, which exalted intelligence and philosophy as the highest paths to knowledge. The author, however, reminds us that true wisdom belongs to God and that his mysteries are not attained through human knowledge, but are received as a gift and with humility. This is the same truth that Jesus expresses when he points out that the Father reveals his secrets to the little ones rather than to the wise of this world (Mt 11:25, Lk 10:21). The central theme of the text is the relationship between omnipotence and mercy. On the one hand, God is the absolute Lord of the universe: there is no other God; he rules over all things and possesses infinite power. On the other hand, this power is not manifested through violence, but through gentleness and goodness: God cares for all things, judges with leniency, governs with tenderness and, after sin, always offers the possibility of conversion. The author puts forward a surprising idea: God is merciful precisely because he is almighty. Human beings, often insecure about their own authority, feel the need to flaunt their power; God, on the other hand, who possesses all power, has nothing to prove. This is why his power is expressed in patience, forgiveness and tenderness. This image of God is the fruit of a long journey of revelation. Through the prophets, Israel learnt that God is not a tyrannical ruler, but a loving Father. Like Elijah on Mount Horeb, believers discover that God does not reveal himself in the storm or the earthquake, but in the gentle breeze. His strength is unobtrusive yet invincible, for it is the strength of love. This discovery also has implications for humankind. If we are created in God’s image, we are called to imitate his way of acting. Therefore, the righteous do not seek domination or violence, but humanity, compassion and service. Jesus takes up this same teaching when he instructs his disciples that the logic of power must not prevail amongst them, but rather that of the service of love (Mk 9:35; Mt 20:26–27; Mt 23:11; Lk 22:26). In short, God’s greatness does not lie in dominating by force, but in saving through mercy; and his omnipotence is manifested in forbearance, forgiveness and the ability to always offer humankind a new chance. Those who wish to resemble God must make goodness—and not power—the measure of their lives.

Responsorial Psalm (85/86)  

In this psalm, the image of a tender and merciful God emerges, one who reveals his power through mercy. If we read the psalm in the light of the first reading, taken from the Book of Wisdom, we realise that the author marvels at both God’s greatness and his tenderness. One explains the other, for if God is forgiving towards humankind, it is precisely because He is almighty. And this dual emphasis – forgiveness and greatness – recurs in the stanzas of the psalm: the 1st and 3rd stanzas focus on forgiveness; the second stanza is about greatness.  First stanza: ‘You who are good and forgiving, you are full of mercy towards those who call upon you.’  Third stanza: ‘You, Lord, are a merciful and compassionate God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Turn to me and have mercy.’  2nd stanza: “Great are You and You work wonders; You alone are God”. In the third stanza, “a merciful and compassionate God” leads us to God’s great revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai (Ex 34:6). It comes at the worst possible moment, immediately after the episode of the golden calf, when Moses, in his anger, had broken the tablets of the Law. The Covenant had been desecrated by the people, who had made themselves an idol. God does not renounce the Covenant: he tells Moses to carve two new stone tablets, upon which he will inscribe the same words. This is a sign of mercy. And it is precisely here that he says: “God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger…”. It is interesting to note Moses’ reaction here (cf. Ex 34:8–9). The author of the psalm reacts just as Moses did: he recalls God’s mercy and ‘takes Him at His word’, imploring Him: ‘You, Lord, God of tenderness and compassion… Turn your gaze upon me and have mercy on me’.  In all our prayers, we too recall his merciful plan for humanity and implore him to hasten its fulfilment (cf. Rom 8:26–27). The parallel with the Book of Exodus continues because, following the revelation and Moses’ response, God establishes a covenant (cf. Ex 34:10). But the psalm adds something new compared with the Book of Exodus, as it was written much later. During the Babylonian exile, Israel became aware of the universal nature of God’s plan—namely, that all nations are called to know him. But how can they come to know him? By discovering God’s work on behalf of his people. The Jewish people do not presume to convert others, but they understand that God’s work on their behalf becomes a means of conversion for other nations: if they open their eyes, they recognise the God of Israel as their Saviour and turn to him. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:26–27)

Saint Paul has already said that the life of the baptised is under the influence of the Spirit. He emphasises once again the role of the Holy Spirit (in this chapter he mentions him 18 times). He highlights that the life of the baptised unfolds entirely under his influence, if we allow ourselves to be guided by him. The Spirit dwells within us, and God’s great plan is like the process of childbirth. The labour pains are the prelude to great joy. “I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed… We know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth.” And it is the Spirit who guides our prayer, as we read in this very brief text which nevertheless contains an important contrast: on the one hand, in the last verse: ‘it is in accordance with God’s will that the Spirit intercedes for the saints’; on the other: ‘he comes to the aid of our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought’. It teaches us that we pray by entering into God’s will, looking at the world and at ourselves through God’s eyes; rejoicing in the signs—however small—of the Kingdom’s advance, which are brotherhood, sharing, solidarity and respect. We must never lose heart in the face of humanity’s slow progress, for the Spirit blows ceaselessly even if it is not always visible. The reference to the Lord’s Prayer is immediate: ‘Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven’—three expressions that draw us into God’s plans.  We need the help of the Holy Spirit to enlighten our prayer, just as Jesus promised: “I will pray to the Father, and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you for ever” (Jn 14:16). He knows the secrets of God’s plan, as Paul so aptly puts it: “The Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God… We have not received the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who comes from God, so that we may know what God has bestowed upon us’ (1 Cor 2:10–12). And the model is Jesus, always guided by the Spirit: his whole life is marked by the fulfilment of the Father’s mission, right up to Gethsemane, when he proclaims, ‘Father, not my will, but yours be done’ (Mark 14:36). And the author of the Letter to the Hebrews sums up his life thus: “Upon entering the world, Christ says… ‘Behold, I have come to do your will, O God’” (Hebrews 10:5, 9).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:24–43) 

The parable of the weeds is not primarily intended to explain the origin of evil, although it reaffirms a fundamental principle: God is not the author of evil. As in the account in Genesis, everything God has created is good; the owner of the field sows only good wheat, whilst the weeds are the work of an enemy. In the context of the Gospel of Matthew, however, this parable is linked to that of the sower. Having shown that the proclamation of the Kingdom does not always bear the hoped-for fruit, Jesus addresses a new question: why not immediately remove what stands in the way of good? The servants suggest pulling up the weeds, but the owner forbids this so as not to uproot the wheat as well. Only at harvest time will the separation take place.

The message is clear: it is not for human beings to pass final judgement or to eliminate evil in others; this task belongs to God. Jesus therefore invites us to live with the simultaneous presence of good and evil in the world and within communities, avoiding elitist or fanatical attitudes. Matthew was probably addressing a community tempted to draw a rigid distinction between the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’. At the end of time, God will make the final judgement. The Bible often presents judgement as a separation between the righteous and the wicked, but the reality is deeper: the line separating good from evil runs through the heart of every person. No one is merely righteous or merely holy, but we all carry within us both the good wheat and the weeds. God will not destroy the good along with the evil: he will save that which, in each of us, is capable of bearing fruit. After the parable of the weeds, Jesus tells the parables of the mustard seed and the yeast. Whilst the previous parables highlighted the obstacles to the Kingdom, these reveal its inner strength. What is small and hidden inevitably grows to full realisation: the seed becomes a great tree and the yeast causes the whole dough to rise. Herein lies the central teaching that Jesus sets out in three fundamental attitudes: trust, because the Kingdom of God grows even when we cannot see it; patience, because the harvest will come at the time appointed by God; and humility, because no one can consider themselves entirely righteous or authorised to judge others. God’s patience stems from his desire not to lose even a single good ear of corn amongst the weeds. But above all, it reveals that God never ceases to hope for humanity’s conversion and for the transformation of the ‘tares’ in our hearts into good grain. This is the true meaning of his merciful patience.     

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Incarnation, or emptiness of humanity

(Mt 12:1-8)

On the conversion journey, conflicts of conscience are not parentheses or accidents of the path, but crucial knots.

The genuineness of believing then generates implicative strenght and new expressive abilities.

The alternative is between Intimacy and practice of Faith, or religion that condemns people without fault (v.7):

According to ordinary religious assessments, the legislation was worth more than hunger... but God’s experience in the life overturns ideas elaborated by experts.

To be honest, observance of the Sabbath had become a central law not because of theological subtleties, very well because in the period of the Exile the weekly rest had allowed believers to gather, share hopes, encourage each other, maintain the identity of the people.

But legalism ended up stifling the spirit of the day of worship, once a sign of a freedom in the service of people faith and happiness.

Thus where Jesus arrives, every spiritual module empty of humanity crumbles, and the Incarnation takes hold: the place where God and man  seriously ‘rest’ [other than the saturday!].

Therefore the Lord quotes the prophet Hosea, a man with a raw experience, but who clearly defines the summit of intimacy with God: an authentic Rite is to realize the needs of our neighbour and to have the heart in the others’ hopes.

The archaic «sacrifice» [«sacrum-facere», making sacred] reflected an idea of cutting, separation and distance between the perfect world of "heaven" and the profane existence of people.

But after the coming of the «Son of Man» (v.8) the new consecrated persons will not live far from the day-to-day existence.

Rather, they will be the first to welcome and relieve those in need.

Sign of the Covenant with God, and Encounter [authentic sanctification] is an ‘adherence’ that continues in the plot of days.

After the Messianic Hymn of Jubilation and the «Gladness of the Simple» that supplants the «yoke» of the ancient religion (Mt 11:25-30), the Master presents himself to the Pharisees in the (stand-in) regal guise of David, who sets out to conquer the alternative Kingdom, even with a small handful of followers.

To the slavery of customs, Christ opposes a looseness that makes the encounter between God and his people more agile, more spontaneous, richer and more personal.

A trail of light - even for us - in the face of the current pastoral collapse (despite the plethora of structures on the ground!).

In the time of the global crisis that seems to mortgage the future [and there is still an attempt to calculate it by directing it a priori, according to selective interests] the challenge is more open than ever.

To internalize and live the message:

How did you perceive that you were reliving Christ in the fluency of the norms?

[Friday 15th wk. in O.T.  July 17, 2026]

Incarnation for one’s own sake and for the sake of the world, or the spiritual form devoid of humanity

(Mt 12:1–8)

    On the path to conversion, conflicts of conscience are not mere interludes or hiccups along the way, but crucial turning points.

The authenticity of faith then generates an implicative force and new capacities for expression.

The choice is between intimacy with God and the practice of faith, or a religion that condemns the blameless (v. 7):

According to conventional religious views, the law was more important than hunger…

Yes, there is much to discuss, quite simply, but little to argue about: the experience of God in one’s life overturns the ideas devised by experts.

To be honest, observance of the Sabbath had become a central law not because of theological subtleties, but because during the Exile, the weekly rest had allowed people to gather, share hopes, encourage one another and maintain their identity as a people.

But legalism ended up stifling the spirit of the day of worship, once a sign of a freedom in the service of faith and humanity, neither of which can be enslaved.

Thus, wherever Jesus comes, every spiritual form devoid of humanity crumbles, and the Incarnation takes hold: the place where God and humankind truly rest [forget about the Sabbath!].

A litmus test of the irruption of the new Kingdom is the flare-up of conflicts with the leaders, officials, court intellectuals and rulers!

They built their prestige on a jumble of false teachings, which had nothing to do with the purpose of the divine Law.

Dogs don’t eat dogs, so the troublemakers of tradition and the letter of the law had never spoken out against David’s transgressive behaviour.

It so happens that those in the driving seat and the unsavoury fundamentalists do not turn against one another…

On the Sabbath, the priests had far more sacred duties and tasks—such as preparation, slaughter and tidying up the Sanctuary—than on other days of the week, and the Torah obliged them to do so… the same happens to us too.

So the Lord quotes the prophet Hosea, a man of harsh experience, yet one who clearly defines the pinnacle of intimacy with God: true worship lies in recognising the needs of one’s neighbour and having a heart attuned to the needs of others.

The archaic concept of ‘sacrifice’ [sacrum facere, to make sacred] reflected an idea of division, separation and distance between the perfect world of ‘heaven’ and people’s mundane lives.

But after the coming of the ‘Son of Man’ (v. 8), the newly consecrated will not live in seclusion, above the fray, far removed from everyday existence.

Rather, they will be the first to welcome and lift up those in need.

Christ highlights the poverty of all legalistic and hypocritical attachments in the way we conceive of our relationship with the Father.

The sign of the Covenant with God, and the Encounter (authentic sanctification), is the commitment that continues in the fabric of daily life and in his active Person – not a ridiculous idolatry of observances or ritual interludes.

Acts and rites celebrate love; and genuine fulfilment does not merely mimic the pedantic ‘how we ought to be’, but rather expresses a liberation of the person.

The biblical episode that Jesus cites might perhaps have seemed not entirely relevant to the theoretical question: his disciples did not appear to be kings, nor even priests.

Yet in the new age that is upon us, yes: ‘rulers’ of their own lives by Grace and Calling, as well as ‘mediators’ [of divine blessings upon humanity] – and also Prophets.

The authentic ones will no longer play the double game of the old showmen, those touchy professionals of the sacred – nor will they condemn the innocent and the needy (v.7).

In Mark 2:27, Jesus puts the commandment into perspective: ‘The Sabbath was made [was instituted, has its purpose] for man, and not man for the Sabbath’.

The loving God enters into a dialogue and a friendship with us that invites, inspires and gives us a zest for action.

The Tao Te Ching (xiii) states:

‘To those who value themselves for the sake of the world, the world may be entrusted. To those who care for themselves for the sake of the world, the world may be confided.’

Christ counters the bondage of custom with a freedom that makes the encounter between God and his people more agile, more spontaneous, richer and more personal.

This is the outcome of a messianic consciousness, precisely that of the ‘Son of Man’ (v. 8): greater than the Temple (v. 6) because it is incarnate.

In this way, it is passed on to us, his brothers and friends – who are most closely united to Him and intimately bound to Him through Faith.

After the Hymn of Messianic Jubilation and the ‘joy of the simple’ which supplants the ‘yoke’ of the ancient religion (Mt 11:25–30), the Master presents himself to the Pharisees in the royal figure of David, who sets out to conquer the alternative ‘Kingdom’, even with a small band of followers.

A ray of light – for us too – in the face of the current pastoral collapse (despite the plethora of institutions across the country!).

In this time of global crisis that seems to be jeopardising the future (whilst attempts are still being made to predict it by directing it a priori, according to selective interests), the challenge is more open than ever.

The Contrast over Justice

‘It is precisely because of this personal experience of his relationship with Jesus Christ that Paul now places at the heart of his Gospel an irreducible opposition between two alternative paths to righteousness: one built upon the works of the Law, the other founded on the grace of faith in Christ. The alternative between righteousness through the works of the Law and that through faith in Christ thus becomes one of the dominant themes running through his Epistles: “We, who are Jews by birth and not sinful Gentiles, yet knowing that a person is not justified by the works of the Law but only through faith in Jesus Christ, have also believed in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ and not by the works of the Law; for by the works of the Law no one will ever be justified” (Gal 2:15–16). And to the Christians in Rome he reiterates that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but are justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 3:23–24). He adds: “We hold, in fact, that a person is justified by faith, apart from the works of the Law” (ibid. 28). At this point, Luther translated: ‘justified by faith alone’. I shall return to this point at the end of the catechesis. First, we must clarify what this ‘Law’ is from which we are set free, and what those ‘works of the Law’ are that do not justify. Even within the community at Corinth, there was a view that would later recur systematically throughout history; this view held that the Law in question was the moral law and that Christian freedom therefore consisted in liberation from ethics. Thus, the phrase “πάντα μοι έξεστιν” (everything is lawful for me) was circulating in Corinth. It is obvious that this interpretation is mistaken: Christian freedom is not licentiousness; the liberation of which St Paul speaks is not liberation from doing good.

But what, then, does the Law mean—from which we are set free and which does not save? For St Paul, as for all his contemporaries, the word ‘Law’ meant the Torah in its entirety, that is, the five books of Moses. The Torah, in the Pharisaic interpretation—which Paul had studied and made his own—entailed a complex set of behaviours ranging from the ethical core to the ritual and liturgical observances that essentially defined the identity of the righteous person. In particular, these included circumcision, the observances concerning clean food and ritual purity in general, the rules regarding the observance of the Sabbath, and so on. Such behaviours frequently feature in the debates between Jesus and his contemporaries. All these observances, which expressed a social, cultural and religious identity, had become particularly significant during the Hellenistic period, beginning in the 3rd century BC. This culture, which had become the dominant culture of the time, and was an apparently rational, polytheistic and seemingly tolerant culture, exerted strong pressure towards cultural uniformity and thus threatened the identity of Israel, which was politically compelled to assimilate into this shared Hellenistic cultural identity, resulting in the loss of its own identity and, consequently, the loss of the precious heritage of the faith of the Fathers—the faith in the one God and in God’s promises.

Against this cultural pressure, which threatened not only Israel’s identity but also faith in the one God and in his promises, it was necessary to erect a wall of distinction, a defensive shield to protect the precious heritage of faith; this wall consisted precisely of Jewish observances and prescriptions. Paul, who had learnt of these observances precisely in their defensive role in safeguarding God’s gift—the heritage of faith in the one God—saw this identity threatened by the freedom of the Christians: this is why he persecuted them. At the moment of his encounter with the Risen One, he realised that with Christ’s resurrection the situation had changed radically. Through Christ, the God of Israel—the one true God—became the God of all peoples. The wall—as he says in the Letter to the Ephesians—between Israel and the Gentiles was no longer necessary: it is Christ who protects us against polytheism and all its deviations; it is Christ who unites us with and in the one God; it is Christ who guarantees our true identity amidst the diversity of cultures. The wall is no longer necessary; our common identity amidst the diversity of cultures is Christ, and it is he who makes us righteous. To be righteous simply means to be with Christ and in Christ. And that is enough. No further observances are required. Therefore, Luther’s expression ‘sola fide’ is true, provided that faith is not set in opposition to charity, to love. Faith is looking to Christ, entrusting oneself to Christ, clinging to Christ, conforming oneself to Christ and to his life. And the form, the life of Christ, is love; therefore, to believe is to conform oneself to Christ and to enter into his love. That is why Saint Paul, in his Letter to the Galatians—in which he developed his doctrine on justification above all—speaks of faith working through love (cf. Gal 5:14).

Paul knows that in the twofold love of God and neighbour, the whole Law is present and fulfilled. Thus, in communion with Christ, in the faith that gives rise to charity, the whole Law is fulfilled. We become righteous by entering into communion with Christ, who is love.”

[Pope Benedict, General Audience, 19 November 2008]

To internalise and live out the message:

Have you experienced oppression or exclusion in the name of the Law? Do you think this was because you had offended God, or because you dared to challenge the status quo or question someone and their cultural paradigm?

How have you experienced coming alive to Christ through the flexibility of the rules? What conflicts are the cause of ecclesial debate and controversy which you believe create division and suffering around you?

At the centre of the liturgy of the Word for this Sunday there is a saying of the Prophet Hosea to which Jesus refers in the Gospel: "I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God, rather than burnt offerings" (Hos 6: 6). It is a key word, one of those that bring us into the heart of Sacred Scripture. The context in which Jesus makes it his own is the calling of Matthew, a "publican" by profession, in other words a tax collector for the Roman imperial authority: for this reason the Jews considered him a public sinner. Having called Matthew precisely when he was sitting at his tax counter - this scene is vividly depicted in a very famous painting by Caravaggio -, Jesus took his disciples to Matthew's home and sat at the table together with other publicans. To the scandalized Pharisees he answered: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.... For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners" (Mt 9: 12-13). Here, the Evangelist Matthew, ever attentive to the link between the Old and New Testaments, puts Hosea's prophecy on Jesus' lips: "Go and learn what this means, "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice'".

These words of the Prophet are so important that the Lord cited them again in another context, with regard to the observance of the Sabbath (cf. Mt 12: 1-8). In this case too he assumed responsibility for the interpretation of the precept, showing himself to be "Lord" of even the legal institutions. Addressing the Pharisees he added: "If you had known what this means, "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice', you would not have condemned the guiltless" (Mt 12: 7). Thus in Hosea's oracle Jesus, the Word made man, fully "found himself", as it were; he wholeheartedly made these words his own and put them into practice with his behaviour, even at the cost of upsetting his People's leaders. God's words have come down to us, through the Gospels, as a synthesis of the entire Christian message: true religion consists in love of God and neighbour. This is what gives value to worship and to the practice of the precepts.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 8 June 2008]