2. These divisions are seen in the relationships between individuals and groups, and also at the level of larger groups: nations against nations and blocs of opposing countries in a headlong quest for domination. At the root of this alienation it is not hard to discern conflicts which, instead of being resolved through dialogue, grow more acute in confrontation and opposition.

Careful observers, studying the elements that cause division, discover reasons of the most widely differing kinds: from the growing disproportion between groups, social classes and-countries, to ideological rivalries that are far from dead; from the opposition between economic interests to political polarization; from tribal differences to discrimination for social and religious reasons. Moreover, certain facts that are obvious to all constitute as it were the pitiful face of the division of which they are the fruit and demonstrate its seriousness in an inescapably concrete way. Among the many other painful social phenomena of our times one can noted.

• The trampling upon the basic rights of the human person, the first of these being the right to life and to a worthy quality of life, which is all the more scandalous in that it coexists with a rhetoric never before known on these same rights.
• Hidden attacks and pressures against the freedom of individuals and groups, not excluding the freedom which is most offended against and threatened: the freedom to have, profess and practice one's own faith.
• The various forms of discrimination: racial, cultural, religious, etc.
• Violence and terrorism.
• The use of torture and unjust and unlawful methods of repression.
• The stockpiling of conventional or atomic weapons, the arms race with the spending on military purposes of sums which could be used to alleviate the undeserved misery of peoples that are socially and economically depressed.
• An unfair distribution of the world's resources and of the assets of civilization, which reaches its highest point in a type of social organization whereby the distance between the human conditions of the rich and the poor becomes ever greater.(2) The overwhelming power of this division makes the world in which we live a world shattered(3) to its very foundations.

Moreover, the church-without identifying herself with the world or being of the world-is in the world and is engaged in dialogue with the world.(4) It is therefore not surprising if one notices in the structure of the church herself repercussions and signs of the division affecting human society. Over and above the divisions between the Christian communions that have afflicted her for centuries, the church today is experiencing within herself sporadic divisions among her own members, divisions caused by differing views or options in the doctrinal and pastoral field.(5) These divisions too can at times seem incurable.

However disturbing these divisions may seem at first sight, it is only by a careful examination that one can detect their root: It is to be found in a wound in man's inmost self. In the light of faith we call it sin: beginning with original sin, which all of us bear from birth as an inheritance from our first parents, to the sin which each one of us commits when we abuse our own freedom.

3. Nevertheless, that same inquiring gaze, if it is discerning enough, detects in the very midst of division an unmistakable desire among people of good will and true Christians to mend the divisions, to heal the wounds and to re-establish at all levels an essential unity. This desire arouses in many people a real longing for reconciliation even in cases where there is no actual use of this word.

Some consider reconciliation as an impossible dream which ideally might become the lever for a true transformation of society. For others it is to be gained by arduous efforts and therefore a goal to be reached through serious reflection and action. Whatever the case, the longing for sincere and consistent reconciliation is without a shadow of doubt a fundamental driving force in our society, reflecting an irrepressible desire for peace. And it is as strongly so as the factors of division, even though this is a paradox.

But reconciliation cannot be less profound than the division itself. The longing for reconciliation and reconciliation itself will be complete and effective only tot he extent that they reach-in order to heal it-that original wound which is the root of all other wounds: namely sin.

26. Now if the church is the pillar and bulwark of the truth' (1 Tim 3:15) and is placed in the world as mother and teacher, how could she neglect the task of teaching the truth which constitutes a path of life?

From the pastors of the church one expects, first of all, catechesis on reconciliation. This must be founded on the teaching of the Bible, especially the New Testament, on the need to rebuild the covenant with God in Christ the redeemer and reconciler. And in the light of this new communion and friendship, and as an extension of it, it must be founded on the teaching concerning the need to be reconciled with one's brethren, even if this means interrupting the offering of the sacrifice. Jesus strongly insists on this theme of fraternal reconciliation: for example, when he invites us to turn the other cheek to the one who strikes us, and to give our cloak too to the one who has taken our coat, or when he instills the law of forgiveness: forgiveness which each one receives in the measure that he or she foresee forgiveness to be offered even to enemies, forgiveness to be granted seventy times seven times, which means in practice without any limit. On these conditions, which are realizable only in a genuinely evangelical climate, it is possible to have a true reconciliation between individuals, families, communities, nations and peoples.

[Pope John Paul II, exhortation Reconciliatio et Paenitentia, nn,2-3.26]

In the Gospel of today’s Liturgy, Jesus gives some basic life guidance to the disciples. The Lord refers to the most difficult situations, those that constitute the bench test for us, those that confront us with those who are enemies and hostile to us, those who are always trying to do us harm. In such cases, the disciple of Jesus is called not to give in to instinct and hatred, but to go further, much further. To go beyond instinct, to go beyond hatred. Jesus says: “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you” (Lk 6:27). And even more concretely: “To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also” (v. 29). When we hear this, it seems that the Lord is asking for the impossible. And then, why love your enemies? If one does not react to bullies, then every abuse of power is given free rein, and this is not fair. But is it really so? Does the Lord really ask for the impossible and indeed even unjust things of us? Is it so?

Let us consider first and foremost that sense of injustice that we feel in “turning the other cheek”. And let us think of Jesus. During the passion, in his unjust trial before the high priest, at one point he receives a slap from one of the guards. And how does He react? He does not insult him, no: he says to the guard, “If I have spoken wrongly, bear witness to the wrong; but if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me?” (Jn 18:23). He asks for an account of the wrong done to him. Turning the other cheek does not mean suffering in silence, giving in to injustice. With his question, Jesus denounces what is unjust. But he does so without anger, without violence, indeed with kindness . He does not wish to spark off an argument, but rather to defuse resentment , this is important: to extinguish hatred and injustice together, seeking to restore the guilty brother. This is not easy, but Jesus did it and he tells us to do likewise. This is turning the other cheek: Jesus’ meekness is a stronger response than the slap he received. Turning the other cheek is not the withdrawal of the loser, but the action of one who has a greater inner strength. Turning the other cheek means defeating evil with  goodness which opens up a breach in the heart of the enemy, unmasking the absurdity of his hatred. And this attitude, this turning the other cheek, is dictated not by calculation or by hatred, but by love. Dear brothers and sisters, it is the freely given, undeserved love we receive from Jesus that generates in the heart a way of doing things that is similar to his, that rejects all vengeance. We are accustomed to revenge: “You did this to me, I will do that to you”, or to bearing a grudge in our heart, resentment that harms, that destroys the person.

Let’s get to another objection:  is it possible for a person to come to love his or her enemies? If it depended only on us, it would be impossible. But let us recall that, when the Lord asks for something, he wishes to give it. The Lord never asks for something he has not already given us first. When he tells me to love my enemies, he wants to give me the capacity to do so. Without that ability, we would not be able, but he tells you to “love your enemy” and gives you the capacity to love. Saint Augustine prayed in this way — listen to this beautiful prayer: Lord, “give what You command, and command what You will” (Confessions , X, 29.40), because you have already given it to me. What should we ask of him? What is God happy to give us? The strength to love, which is not a thing, but rather the Holy Spirit. The strength to love is the Holy Spirit, and with the Spirit of Jesus, we can respond to evil with good, we can love those who do us harm. This is what Christians do. How sad it is when persons and peoples who are proud to be Christians see others as enemies and think about waging war against each other! It is very sad.

And we, do we try to live following Jesus’ invitations? Let us think about someone who has wronged us. Each one of you, think of a person. It is common for us to be hurt by someone; think of that person. Perhaps there is some resentment within. So, let us set the image of Jesus alongside this resentment: meek during his trial, after the slap. And then let us ask the Holy Spirit to act in our heart. Finally, let us pray for that person: praying for those who have done us harm (cf. Lk 6:28). When someone has wronged us, we immediately go and tell others and we feel we are victims. Let us stop, and pray to the Lord for that person, that he might help him or her, and so this feeling of resentment will be dispelled. Praying for those who have wronged us is the first step to transforming evil into good. Prayer. May the Virgin Mary help us be workers of peace towards everyone, especially those who are hostile to us and whom we do not like.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 20 February 2022]

Faith and religion. Turnover in the Church

(Lk 6:20-26)

Jesus judges the configuration of the world in which his Church, in the Spirit, finds herself living: rich and destitute [in many ways], prominent and invisible figures.

Situation that does not reflect conditions of fullness life; rather - even today - it makes bitter blood to many.

A false and not definitive reality, exasperating, wich the Lord absolutely denounces not to like among his intimates: that of praised dominators (despite the selfish abuse of goods and positions) and insignificant subjected.

Devoid of high-sounding titles, the young Rabbi turns from bottom to top (v.20) to those who have freely chosen his proposal of fraternal existence and sharing of property [in Mt «poor "for" the Spirit (of love)»].

He is pleased [«Blessed»] with the choice of his apostles, which makes us enjoy the experience of harmony with the Master. A different Vision, and the reciprocity, that is, the same quality of God’s life.

Already here on earth the critical prophets testify to the possibility of a different perception of things, as well as the Dream of a society based on coexistence - in the exchange of benefits.

A bud of hospitable world - which Lk wants to encourage - where there is no above and below or front and behind: only humanizing upheavals (such as the reversal of roles) that strengthen the fabric concorde.

Also in his House there must be rotation and reversal of prominent figures and tasks. The change is the sign of the Kingdom that comes; able to sharpen sensitivity to Communion.

In the documents of ancient literature little is spoken of the poor, voiceless and hungry. The focus was on the rich, the heroes, the rulers and generals. The overthrow of fate was unimaginable.

On the contrary, the new powerful of the Kingdom of God are those who feel the Son present, pulsating in their hearts, Risen in them.

They do not keep for themselves, but transform goods, goals, titles and ministries into Life and Relationship.

What is decisive and conclusive is the construction of this unusual type of Church [Kingdom].

Germ that deviates from the unilaterality of relationships. With enrichment and alternation, where everyone feels adequate, no longer pointed out.

In the adventure of Faith-Love there is always mutual recognition. 

The offices, the assignments, alternate incessantly.

Indeed, excessively centered relationships of subjection annihilate the living Gifts of God; they produce deep, paralyzing wounds.

They reduce Creator and creature to silence [and opacity]: a paradoxical self-condemnation.

But Christ clearly distinguishes what makes Blessed - complete, not one-sided - and what does not belong to and does not resemble the full work of the Father.

He does it not simply by admonishing, but by uniting us and expanding our Core; by lubricating the intimate, best essences - of all people.

In proclaiming the Beatitudes, the Risen Jesus wants to communicate [especially in his Churches, which seem to him to have need it so much] a less schematic and partial energy, more permeable and confluent; an inclusive rhythm.

And to everyone gives permission to live.

[Wednesday 23rd wk. in O.T.  September 9, 2026]

Faith and religion. Turnover in the Church

(Lk 6:20-26)

In Mt the Beatitudes outline a programme for fraternities of Jewish origin.

In Lk the sermon seems more radical in character and is addressed to Hellenistic communities, with a strong social emphasis.

Jesus judges the configuration of the world in which his Church in the Spirit finds itself living: rich and destitute [shaky in many senses], prominent and invisible.

A situation that does not reflect conditions of fullness of life; rather - even today - it makes the blood bitter for many.

A distorted and non-definitive reality, exasperating, which he absolutely denounces he does not like among his own: that of lauded rulers (despite the selfish abuse of possessions and positions) and insignificant subordinates.

Devoid of lofty titles, the young Rabbi addresses from the bottom up (v.20) those who have freely chosen his proposal of fraternal existence and sharing of property [in Mt "poor "for" the Spirit (of love)"].

The Master explicitly rejoices ["Blessed"] in the choice of his own, alienated from selfishness.

He praises that experience of attunement: in the same quality of intimate life with God, united and promoted to a different vision and reciprocity.

Already here on earth, the intimates testify to a different perception of things: looking down.

In addition, the Dream of an alternative society, founded on harmonious coexistence, without discrimination. A heady thing - in the exchange of benefits.

A sprout of a hospitable world - which Lk wants to encourage - where there is no top and bottom or front and back: only humanising upheavals (such as the reversal of roles) that strengthen the concordant fabric.

Even in his House there must be rotation and reversal of leading figures and roles - signs of the Kingdom to Come.

Replacement is a sign of the Kingdom to Come; capable of sharpening sensitivities to Communion.

Not installation (even, for life) and fixity.

In the documents of ancient literature there is little mention of the poor, voiceless and hungry. The focus was on the rich, the heroes, the kings and generals.

The reversal of fortune was unimaginable, although here and there [especially in the world of women, which was completely stifled] it was perceived as a deep and far more authentic desire.

The powerful of the new humanising world are precisely the opposite of what was foreseen: those who feel the Son present, pulsating in their hearts, Risen in them.

They do not keep for themselves, but transform goods, goals, titles and ministries into Life and Relationship.

Dynamism that will no longer cause anyone to lose the ground under their feet.

Nor will high tones be needed to defend themselves.

If one is still unable to distinguish and recognise oneself, one can become less noisy in reciprocity.

Then, what one now experiences - and suffers for love - is transitory, not definitive.

What on the other hand is decisive and conclusive is the building of this unusual type of Church [Kingdom].

Germ that departs from the one-sidedness of relationships.

Seed and Nest - with enrichment and alternation - where everyone feels adequate, no longer singled out.

In any case, independent of conformist or pyramidal opinion, interested in perpetuating themselves.

In this way, persecutions that then bring suffering must be taken into account - not as a death rattle, but as glad tidings: birth pains, emblem and source of broad Hope.

The old competitive world is reeling and defending itself by all means, but the announced future is coming.

Fraternities that make decisive choices go the right way, sensible, vital, that not only cushions but teaches how to live misfortunes as an opportunity for Novelty and different Harmony.

Those to whom everything runs smoothly and are incensed - and allow themselves to carve out fixed positions of prominence in the assemblies of Faith reduced to the realm of man - only reiterate the divergences that already marked the structure of the Empire.

They have nothing in common with the Father's plan.

Therefore Jesus does not rejoice in their presence, rather he laments it.

He does not believe that social inequality is the result of fatality, but of injustice - unbearable for those who call themselves disciples and brothers.

In an atmosphere of real sharing of resources and conviviality of differences, it also helps us to understand the relationship of Friendship in a strong sense - between us members of the Church, and with God.

In an atmosphere of blissful living, the inner core is finally heard, and shakes up crystallised situations. It makes one see life from other points of view. So no exaggeration of control; no forcing.

Between believers, any need finds space - without any more script - and everything moves away from the partiality of external relationships.In a religious and verticist (already chained, voluntarist) Father-son relationship devoid of Faith, it is always the Almighty who dominates, and the creature obeys.

God is in the foreground and judges; man follows him, living as a function of the 'master' and his 'representatives' - even in vital positions - as if all others had a bland, decentralised identity.

Instead, in the community that reflects the divine, there is never anyone who is always in the background and the usual ones who prevail and decide - while others follow and act as spectators.

Otherwise some will end up brooding over abandonment or retaliation, and react [the only way] not to annihilate themselves.

No one can live without expressing his or her own personality and unrepeatable Vocation: in micro and macro community relations, in the Church active in the lay apostolate - if untiring.

This also applies with God.

The same ideal of harmonisation applies with Traditions or so-called Charisms - which should not overburden souls.

No more worldviews chiselled out according to another size: someone else's, or already dated, that no longer belong to us. Although it can in various cases propose a world of knowledge in which one can and must recognise oneself....

If, on the other hand, the relationship is filled with overwhelming power - as in devotions or ideologies, in business gangs or sects - the inclination will not be able to generate unity [if not facade] but all sorts of betrayal and abandonment.

But here defection becomes paradoxically necessary, in order to find oneself.

There remains a moment of tension and perhaps on the spur of the moment an escape, but from an oppressive situation - like that of the prodigal son (in ch.15) who runs away from home because he is harassed by the attitude of the 'eldest son'.

In the Faith-Love adventure, there is always a mutual recognition.  Thus, offices are incessantly reversed.

Roles are incessantly reversed between subject and 'object' (made into a protagonist in its turn) of the exchange of resources and gift-giving.

Over-centred relationships of subjection annihilate God's living Gifts; they produce deep, paralysing wounds.

They reduce Creator and creature to silence: a paradoxical self-condemnation.

In the realm of multifaceted 'holiness', on the contrary, the inversion persists between the one who proposes, the one who welcomes, and the one who expands.

In each situation assessing whether the brother is in joy. [In this sense the synodal path is really appropriate].

Then over time one grows and also changes one's opinion - e.g. about people or events that we considered distant, inconclusive.

And instead they spoke to us of mission, or of our secret pace towards another goal and destiny.

The Christ present in every believer and in his mystical body that lives the Beatitudes, surpasses all normalised opinions.

God is not monochromatic: he overcomes disparities of behaviour, class divisions, discontents - and this is not a far cry from us.

E.g. until recently in Baptism we used to perform a formality.

We did not realise what was happening between God and the creature brought into the Church - nor the difference between pious ceremony and life orientation.

But pausing with ourselves and our Meaning, together, would have qualified the way of understanding ourselves; understanding others, being in the field.

Spontaneously we would have abandoned our 'character', role and primacy (which centralise, but act as a ball and chain to the best energies).

In short, with the help of a qualitatively rich common house, alive and committed in the spirit of gratuitousness, we would already be here in the divine condition.

We would have reactivated ourselves and our capacities in the round - without first adjusting positions on homologated models without vigour, which subject us to rancorous, suffocating, partial, equivocal relationships.

In the contrasts in vv.24-26, the Lord distinguishes well between what makes us blessed - complete, not one-sided - and what does not belong to or resemble the Father's work.

But he does this not simply by admonishing, but to bring together, and expand our Core; to lubricate the intimate, better essences of all.

By proclaiming the spirit of the Beatitudes - within each one of us - even in the time of pandemic and global crisis, he does not intend to make us gnaw our guts out and feel traitorous, inconsistent and off-track.

This Word wants to communicate [especially to the assemblies themselves, who seem to need it so much from the Risen One] a less centralised and partial energy, more permeable and confluent; an inclusive rhythm.

And full permission to live.

To internalise and live the message:

What is your ideal of happiness?

Do you know any blessed men in the Church, or mostly men of earth and centralising relationships, tasks, management of pastoral programmes and more (...) while propagating 'unity'?

What is your angry cry that you do not let out, for fear of being excluded? Don't you think it is speaking deeply to you of discriminating human choices, of personal and ecclesial Vocation?

Do you believe that the Beatitudes are a hindrance to personal and social fulfilment, or vice versa a chance to assert yourself, and with determination?

Paradoxes for a sharing

Brother Egidius, a companion of St Francis, summarised his Founder's teaching thus:

"You want to hear well? Become deaf. You want to speak well? Be silent. Want to walk well? Cut off your legs. You want to work well? Cut off your hands. Wanna really love? Hate yourself. Want to live well? Mortify yourself. Want to gain? Learn to lose. Want to get rich? Be poor. Want to be consoled? Cry. Want to live in security? Always be afraid. Want to rise to the heights? Humble yourself. Want to be esteemed? Despise yourself and esteem those who despise you. Want to have good? Endure evil. Want to be at peace? Strive. Want to be blessed? Hope that they curse you'.

In the Letter to Diognetus (mid-second century) we read:

"Christians neither by region, nor by voice, nor by custom are to be distinguished from other men. For they neither dwell in cities of their own, nor use a jargon that differs, nor lead a special kind of life. Their doctrine is not in the discovery of the thought of multiform men, nor do they adhere to a human philosophical current, as others do. By living in Greek and barbarian cities, as each one did, and adapting to the customs of the place in dress, food and the rest, they testify to an admirable and undoubtedly paradoxical method of social life. They live in their homeland, but as strangers; they participate in everything as citizens and are detached from everything as foreigners. Every foreign homeland is their homeland, and every homeland is foreign. They marry like everyone else and beget children, but they do not throw out babies. They share the table, but not the bed. They are in the flesh, but do not live according to the flesh. They dwell in the earth, but have their citizenship in heaven. They obey the established laws, and by their lives they overcome the laws. They love all, and by all they are persecuted. They are not known, and they are condemned. They are killed, and they live again. They are poor, and make many rich; they lack everything, and abound in everything. They are despised, and in despises they have glory. They are reviled and proclaimed righteous. They are reviled and blessed; they are abused and honoured. Doing good they are punished as evildoers; condemned they rejoice as if they received life. By the Jews they are fought as foreigners, and by the Greeks persecuted, and those who hate them could not tell the reason for their hatred."

"To put it briefly, as the soul is in the body, so in the world are Christians. The soul is diffused in all parts of the body, and Christians in the cities of the earth. The soul dwells in the body, but is not of the body; Christians dwell in the world, but are not of the world (...). God has placed them in such a place that it is not permissible for them to leave".

Christianity is not a religion, but a Person and its proposal: an exceptional Path of Friendship and Paradox.

Quoting Emmanuel Carrère: "(Jesus) is always what his followers wanted to see, hear, touch, but not as they expected to see him, hear him, touch him (...). He is the first to pass, he is the last of the beggars".

God's imaginative choices pass for the undecided, the defeated, the weak ignoble fools.

Not because of an alternative quirk, but because these are the people who - while working to brighten the lives of others - by risking their own make experience of a Father who provides for their uniqueness.

They let the Light through

All Saints, between religious sense and Faith

Embodying the spirit of the Beatitudes, we ask ourselves what is the difference between common "religious feeling" and "living by Faith".

In ancient devotions, the Saint is the composite man sui, perfect and detached [but predictable]; and the opposite of Saint is 'sinner'.

In the proposal of a full life in the Lord, the 'saint' is a person of communicative understanding and who lives for conviviality, creating it where there is none.

In the path of the sons, the saint is indeed the excellent man, but in its full sense - full and dynamic, multifaceted; even eccentric. Not in a one-sided, moralistic or sentimental sense.

In the Latin language perfìcere means to complete, to go all the way.

In such a complete and integral meaning, 'perfect' becomes an authentic embodied value: a possible attribute - of every person who is aware of his or her own condition of vulnerability, and does not despise it.

The woman and man of Faith value every occasion or emotion that exposes the condition of nakedness [not guilt] in order to open new paths and renew themselves.

From the point of view of life in the Spirit, the saint [in Hebrew Qadosh, a divine attribute] is indeed the 'detached' man, but not in a partial or physical sense, but ideal.He is not the person who at a certain point in life distances himself from the human family to embark on a path of purification that would elevate him. Deluding himself that he is getting better.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises: 'A human being [...] does not realise himself, does not develop, cannot find his own fullness [... and] does not come to fully recognise his own truth except in the encounter with others' (No.87).

The authentic witness is not animated by contempt for existential chaos - nor eager to outsource the difficulties of managing one's own freedom by handing it over to an alienating agency with a secluded mentality (which solves the drama of personal choices).

In Christ, man is "disjointed" from the common mentality, insofar as he is faithful to himself, to his own Fire that is not extinguished - to the passions, to his own unrepeatable uniqueness and Vocation.

And at the same time, "separated" from external competitive criteria: of having, of power, of appearance. Self-destructive powers.

To the latter, he concretely substitutes the fraternity of giving, of serving and of diminishing [from "character"]. Fruitful energies.

All for the global Communion, and in Truth also with one's own intimate character seed - avoiding proselytising and being noticed in the catwalks.

The true believer knows his redeemed limit, sees the possibilities of imperfection.... Thus he replaces the presuppositions of keeping for oneself, of climbing over others and dominating them, with a fundamental humanising triptych: giving, freedom to 'come down', collaboration.

This is the authentic Detachment, which does not flee one's own and others' inclinations, nor does it despise the complex trait of the human condition.

In this way, the "saint" lives the essential Bliss of the persecuted (Mt 5:11-12; Lk 6:22-23) because he has the freedom to "lower himself" in order to be in tune with his own essence; co-existing in his originality.

In terms of Faith, the saint is thus no longer a physically "separate", but rather "united" to Christ - and banished like Him, into the weak brothers and sisters.

In short, the divine Design is to compose Families of the small and shaky, not to carve out a group of "strong" friends, and "better" than the others.

Only this horizon of the Hearth drives us on.

Consequently, the opposite of Saint is not "sinful", but rather unrealised or unfinished.

Let us see again why (vocational and personal paths).

Jesus was a friend of publicans and public sinners not because they were better than the good, but because in religion the 'righteous' are often not very spontaneous; making themselves impermeable, closed, refractory to the action of the Spirit.

Surprisingly, the Lord Himself repeatedly experienced that it was precisely the devoutly deficient who were willing to question themselves, realise, rework, deviate from habit - for the building up of new paths, even by groping.

Not being able to enjoy the respectable cloak of social screens, after an awareness of one's own situation (and over time) - compared to those who considered themselves 'arrived' and friends of God - from 'distant' they became people more than the 'impecunious' willing to love.

Questioning is fundamental in a biblical perspective.

At every turn, Scripture proposes to us a spirituality of Exodus, that is, a road of liberation from fetters and walked as if on foot, step by step. Hence one that values paths of seeking, exploring, self-discovery and the Newness of a God who does not repeat, but creates.

The call that the Word makes is to embark on an itinerary; that is the point. And we have always been "those of the Way" and who do not pass by, do not look the other way [cf. Lk 10:31-33; FT, 56ff].

For the classical pagan mentality, woman and man are essentially 'nature', therefore their being in the world is conditioned [I remember my professor of theological anthropology Ignazio Sanna even used to say 'de-centred'], even determined by birth (fortunate or not).

According to the Bible, woman and man are creatures, splendid and adequate in themselves for their mission, but pilgrim and lacking.

God is the One who 'calls' them to complete themselves, making up for their deficient aspects.

To come to be the image and likeness of the Lord, we must develop the capacity to respond to a Vocation that makes us not phenomena, nor exceptional 'perfect' ones, but particular Witnesses.

Chosen by Name, just as we are; who embrace their deep being - even unexpressed - to the point of recognising it in the You, and unfolding it in the We.

A person's holiness is thus combined with many states of dissatisfaction, boundary, and even partial failure - but always thinking and feeling reality.

For a New Covenant.

In the Old Testament, the believer came into contact with divine purity by frequenting holy places, fulfilling prescriptions, reciting prayers, respecting times and spaces, avoiding embarrassing situations; and so on.Our experience and conscience infallibly attest that strict observance is too rare, or mannered: inside, it often does not correspond to us - nor does it humanise us.

It sooner or later becomes a house of cards, shaky the more it points 'upwards'. All it takes is to lay one of them out clumsily, and the artificial construction collapses.

We realise our natural inability to meet such high sterilisations, (other people's) maps and standards.

With Jesus, Perfection is not about 'thinking', nor is it about adherence to an abstract code of observances. Perfection is about a quality of Exodus and Relationship.

In ancient contexts, the path of the sons has been cloaked with a mystical or renunciatory proposal of abstinence, fasting, retreats, secluded living, obsessive cultic observances... which in many situations formed the backbone of pre-Conciliar spirituality.

But in Scripture, saints do not have a halo or wings.

They are not such because they performed incomparable and astounding miracles of healing: they are women and men embedded in the ordinary world and in the most ordinary aspects. 

They know the problems, weaknesses, joys and sorrows of everyday life; the search for their own identity-character, or deep inclination.

And the apostolate; the family, raising children, work. The seductive power of evil, even.

In the First Testament, 'Qadosh' exclusively designated an attribute of the Eternal [the only non-intermittent Person] - and its separateness from the tangle of often confused earthly ambitions.

Despite the flaws, however, in Christ we become capable of listening, of perception; thus enabled to seize every opportunity to bear witness to the innate, vital Gratuity of divine and real initiative.

Unceasingly, providential life proposes itself and comes to open unthinkable, breaching gaps.

Its unprecedented journeys of growth renew the existence all linked and conforming.

This also makes us marvel at intimate resources, previously unconscious or unconfessed and concealed, or unforeseeably hidden behind dark sides.

That which is Insignificant is no longer moved behind clouds and placed in fortified enclosures.

Therefore, God's adversary will not be transgression: instead, it becomes the lack of a spirit of communion, in differences.

The enemy of the Salvation story is not religious incompleteness, but the gap from the Beatitudes - and from the unfolding spirit of the 'wayfarer' for whom 'wandering' is also synonymous [not paradoxical] with 'wandering'.

God's counterpart is thus not 'sins', but 'the' Sin [in the singular, a theological term, not a moralistic one].

"Sin" is the inability to correspond to an indicative Calling, which acts as a spring to complete us, to regenerate us not to be partial. This by harmonising opposite sides - in being ourselves and being-With.

Here it is the Faith that 'saves', where we are - because it annihilates 'the sin of the world' (Jn 1:29), that is, the disbelief and guilt; the humiliation of unbridgeable distances.

In fact, Jesus does not recommend doctrines, nor does he recommend parcelling out one's life with punctual ethylisms. Nor does he envisage any religious ascent [in terms of progressiveness] peppered with effort.

To no one in the Gospels does Christ say 'become holy', but with Him, like Him and in Him - united, to encounter one's deepest states unceasingly.

Recognising them better, also through the You and the We.

The Saint is the little one, not the all-in-one, uniform, predictable hero.

The saint is he who, walking his own path in the wake of the Risen One, has learnt to "identify with the other, regardless of where [or] from where [...] ultimately experiencing that others are his own flesh" (cf. FT 84).

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

The liturgical year is a great journey of faith made by the Church, always preceded by her Mother the Virgin Mary. This year, during the Sundays in Ordinary Time, the path is marked by readings from Luke's Gospel. Today it brings us to "a level place" (Lk 6: 17), where Jesus stops with the Twelve and where a crowd of other disciples and people who had come from everywhere gather to listen to him. This is the setting for the proclamation of the "Beatitudes" (Lk 6: 20-26; cf. Mt 5: 1-12). Jesus, lifting up his eyes to his disciples, says: "Blessed are you poor.... Blessed are you that hunger.... Blessed are you that weep.... Blessed are you when men hate you... when they cast out your name" on account of me. Why does he proclaim them blessed? Because God's justice will ensure that they will be satisfied, gladdened, recompensed for every false accusation in a word, because from this moment he will welcome them into his Kingdom. The Beatitudes are based on the fact that a divine justice exists, which exalts those who have been wrongly humbled and humbles those who have exalted themselves (cf. Lk 14: 11). In fact, the Evangelist Luke, after repeating four times "blessed are you", adds four admonitions: "Woe to you that are rich.... Woe to you that are full now.... Woe to you that laugh now" and: "Woe to you, when all men speak well of you", because as Jesus affirms, the circumstances will be reversed; the last will be first, and the first will be last (cf. Lk 13: 30).

This justice and this Beatitude are realized in the "Kingdom of Heaven", or the "Kingdom of God", which will be fulfilled at the end of times but which is already present in history. Wherever the poor are comforted and admitted to the banquet of life, there God's justice is already manifest. This is the work that the Lord's disciples are called to carry out also in today's society. I am thinking of the Hostel run by the Roman Caritas at Termini Station, which I visited this morning. I warmly encourage all who work in that praiseworthy institution and those who, in every part of the world, volunteer themselves generously to similar works of justice and of love.

This year I dedicated my Message for Lent which will begin this Wednesday, Ash Wednesday to the theme of justice. Today I would therefore like to deliver it, in spirit, to all of you, inviting you to read and meditate on it. Christ's Gospel responds positively to Man's thirst for justice, but in an unexpected and surprising way. He does not propose a social or political revolution but rather one of love, which he has already brought about with his Cross and his Resurrection. It is on these that are founded the Beatitudes which present a new horizon of justice, unveiled at Easter, thanks to which we can become just and build a better world.

Dear friends, let us turn now to the Virgin Mary. All the generations call her "blessed", because she believed the good news that the Lord proclaimed (cf. Lk 1: 45-48). Let us be guided by her on our Lenten journey, to be freed from the illusion of self-sufficiency, to recognize that we need God and his mercy, and thus to enter into his Kingdom of justice, of love and of peace.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 14 February 2010]

3. “Blessed are you!”, he says, “all you who are poor in spirit, gentle and merciful, you who mourn, who care for what is right, who are pure in heart, who make peace, you who are persecuted! Blessed are you!” But the words of Jesus may seem strange. It is strange that Jesus exalts those whom the world generally regards as weak. He says to them, “Blessed are you who seem to be losers, because you are the true winners: the kingdom of heaven is yours!” Spoken by him who is “gentle and humble in heart” (Mt 11:29), these words present a challenge which demands a deep and abiding metanoia of the spirit, a great change of heart.

You young people will understand why this change of heart is necessary! Because you are aware of another voice within you and all around you, a contradictory voice. It is a voice which says, “Blessed are the proud and violent, those who prosper at any cost, who are unscrupulous, pitiless, devious, who make war not peace, and persecute those who stand in their way”. And this voice seems to make sense in a world where the violent often triumph and the devious seem to succeed. “Yes”, says the voice of evil, “they are the ones who win. Happy are they!”

4. Jesus offers a very different message. Not far from this very place Jesus called his first disciples, as he calls you now. His call has always demanded a choice between the two voices competing for your hearts even now on this hill, the choice between good and evil, between life and death. Which voice will the young people of the twenty-first century choose to follow? To put your faith in Jesus means choosing to believe what he says, no matter how strange it may seem, and choosing to reject the claims of evil, no matter how sensible or attractive they may seem.

In the end, Jesus does not merely speak the Beatitudes. He lives the Beatitudes. He is the Beatitudes. Looking at him you will see what it means to be poor in spirit, gentle and merciful, to mourn, to care for what is right, to be pure in heart, to make peace, to be persecuted. This is why he has the right to say, “Come, follow me!” He does not say simply, “Do what I say”. He says, “Come, follow me!”

You hear his voice on this hill, and you believe what he says. But like the first disciples at the Sea of Galilee, you must leave your boats and nets behind, and that is never easy – especially when you face an uncertain future and are tempted to lose faith in your Christian heritage. To be good Christians may seem beyond your strength in today’s world. But Jesus does not stand by and leave you alone to face the challenge. He is always with you to transform your weakness into strength. Trust him when he says: “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9)!

5. The disciples spent time with the Lord. They came to know and love him deeply. They discovered the meaning of what the Apostle Peter once said to Jesus: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (Jn 6:68). They discovered that the words of eternal life are the words of Sinai and the words of the Beatitudes. And this is the message which they spread everywhere.

At the moment of his Ascension Jesus gave his disciples a mission and this reassurance: “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations . . . and behold I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Mt 28:18-20). For two thousand years Christ’s followers have carried out this mission. Now, at the dawn of the Third Millennium, it is your turn. It is your turn to go out into the world to preach the message of the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes. When God speaks, he speaks of things which have the greatest importance for each person, for the people of the twenty-first century no less than those of the first century. The Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes speak of truth and goodness, of grace and freedom: of all that is necessary to enter into Christ’s Kingdom. Now it is your turn to be courageous apostles of that Kingdom!

Young people of the Holy Land, Young people of the world: answer the Lord with a heart that is willing and open! Willing and open, like the heart of the greatest daughter of Galilee, Mary, the Mother of Jesus. How did she respond? She said: “I am the servant of the Lord, let it be done to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38).

O Lord Jesus Christ, in this place that you knew and loved so well, listen to these generous young hearts! Continue to teach these young people the truth of the Commandments and the Beatitudes! Make them joyful witnesses to your truth and convinced apostles of your Kingdom! Be with them always, especially when following you and the Gospel becomes difficult and demanding! You will be their strength; you will be their victory!

O Lord Jesus, you have made these young people your friends: keep them for ever close to you! Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, homily to young people, Mount of the Beatitudes 24 March 2000]

Today’s Gospel presents us Saint Luke’s passage on the Beatitudes (cf. 6:17, 20-26). The text is arranged into four beatitudes and four admonitions denoted by the expression, “woe to you”. With these assertive and sharp words, Jesus opens our eyes and lets us look with his gaze, beyond appearances, beyond the surface and teaches us to discern situations with faith.

Jesus proclaims the poor, the hungry, the suffering and the persecuted blessed, and he admonishes those who are rich, satisfied, who laugh and are praised by the people. The reason behind this paradoxical beatitude lies in the fact that God is close to those who suffer, and intercedes to free them from their bondage. Jesus sees this; he already sees the beatitude beyond its negative reality. And likewise, the “woe to you” addressed to those who are doing well today, has the purpose of “waking” them from the dangerous deceit of egotism, and opening them up to the logic of love, while they still have the time to do so.

The page from today’s Gospel thus invites us to reflect on the profound sense of having faith, which consists in our trusting completely in the Lord. It is about demolishing worldly idols in order to open our hearts to the true and living God. He alone can give our life that fullness so deeply desired and yet difficult to attain. Brothers and sisters, indeed there are many in our day too who purport to be dispensers of happiness: they come and promise us swift success, great profits within our reach, magical solutions to every problem and so on. And here it is easy to slip unwittingly into sinning against the first Commandment: namely idolatry, substituting God with an idol. Idolatry and idols seem to be things from another age, but in reality they are of all ages! Even today. They describe certain contemporary attitudes better than many sociological studies do.

This is why Jesus opens our eyes to reality. We are called to happiness, to be blessed, and we become so as of now, to the measure in which we place ourselves on the side of God, of his Kingdom, on the side of what is not ephemeral but rather endures for eternal life. We are happy if we acknowledge we are needy before God — and this is very important: “Lord, I need you” — and if, like him and with him, we are close to the poor, the suffering and the hungry. We too are like this before God: we are poor, suffering, we are hungry before God. Although we possess worldly goods, we experience joy when we do not idolize or sell our souls out to them, but are able to share them with our brothers and sisters. Today the liturgy invites us once again to question ourselves about this and to be truthful in our heart.

Jesus’ Beatitudes are a decisive message which urges us not to place our trust in material and fleeting things, not to seek happiness by following smoke vendors — who are often vendors of death — experts in illusion. We should not follow them because they are unable to give us hope. May the Lord help us open our eyes to acquire a more penetrating view of reality, to heal the chronic shortsightedness with which the worldly spirit infects us. With his paradoxical Word he stirs us and enables us to recognize what truly enriches us, satisfies us, gives us joy and dignity; in other words, what truly gives meaning and fullness to our lives. May the Virgin Mary help us listen to this Gospel passage with open hearts and minds so that it may bear fruit in our life and that we may become witnesses of the happiness that does not disappoint, that of God who never disappoints.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 17 February 2019]

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time  (year A)  [6 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (33:7–9)

The prophet Ezekiel, a priest in Jerusalem in the 6th century BC, was exiled to Babylon in 597 BC during the first exile ordered by Nebuchadnezzar. He lived by the River Chebar, in the village of Tel Aviv, where he learnt the tragic news of the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple in 587 BC. Despite these catastrophes, Ezekiel did not lose hope. During the approximately twenty years of his ministry whilst in exile, he dedicated his life to supporting the people and keeping alive the hope of return. The name of the modern city of Tel Aviv refers precisely to the village where he lived, as a tribute to the prophet who contributed to the spiritual survival of Israel. His mission unfolded on two fronts: helping the exiles to settle and survive; and keeping alive the hope of returning to the Promised Land. God entrusted him with the task of being a watchman for Israel (Ezekiel 3:17). Like a watchman who warns the city of danger, Ezekiel was to convey God’s warnings and call the people to repentance. Had he remained silent, he would have been responsible for their downfall. However, the people often listened without putting God’s Word into practice. People appreciated the beauty of his preaching, but did not change their ways (Ezekiel 33:31–32). For this reason, the prophet experienced discouragement, feeling as though he were ‘preaching in the wilderness’. Despite this, he remained faithful to his mission. Ezekiel was a watchman in two senses: attentive to the Word of God and vigilant in awaiting the dawn of salvation. With powerful imagery and great courage, he proclaimed the hope of rebirth, declaring God’s promise: ‘I will bring you out of your graves, O my people, and bring you back to the land of Israel’ (Ezekiel 37:12). Even when it seemed that all was lost, following the fall of Jerusalem, Ezekiel continued to proclaim that restoration was possible if the people returned to God. For God does not desire the death of the sinner, but his conversion: ‘Why should you die, O house of Israel? Turn back, and you will live’ (Ezek 33:11). This text ties in with today’s Gospel reading, in which Jesus entrusts the disciples with a similar mission: to watch over one another with brotherly love, correcting those who err because, as Leviticus (19:17–18) also teaches, correcting with charity is a genuine act of love, for it helps one’s brother to avoid evil and to find the path of life once more. Just as a watchman keeps watch over the city, so the prophet and every disciple must watch over the welfare of others.

Responsorial Psalm (94/95) 

The final verse of Psalm 95/94 recalls the episode of Massah and Meribah (Ex 17:1–7), when the people of Israel, in the wilderness, ran out of water and doubted God. After accusing Moses, thinking that God wanted to let them die of thirst, the Lord caused abundant water to gush forth from the rock. Since then, Massah and Meribah have symbolised a lack of trust in God. The Psalm urges: ‘Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts’. This is the life of faith, and the real question is: ‘Can we trust God, who is present in our lives?’ Faith is trust, and to believe means to trust. The Hebrew word for faith means to lean on God, and ‘Amen’ derives from the same root, meaning ‘firm’ or ‘stable’: it is like saying, ‘I entrust myself completely to God.’ This is why the prophet Isaiah declares: ‘Unless you believe, you will not stand firm’ (Isaiah 7:9). To listen is to trust. The invitation in the Psalm: ‘Will you listen to his Word today?’, asks not merely to hear, but to receive it with trust. Those who trust truly listen. This is why the Shema Israel prayer (Deut 6:4) begins with: ‘Hear, O Israel’, and to love God with all one’s heart means to entrust oneself entirely to Him. Even the verb ‘to obey’ derives from the idea of listening: biblical obedience is not blind submission, but trusting listening to the Word. Trust arises from experience. Israel bases its faith on the concrete experience of deliverance from Egypt. If God has delivered his people from slavery, he cannot abandon them in the wilderness. This is why the Psalm proclaims: ‘Let us acclaim the Rock of our salvation.’ The rock is not merely a poetic image: it recalls the rock from which God brought forth water at Massah and Meribah. God is a secure rock upon which to rely, and this choice must be renewed every day. The word ‘today’ is fundamental: every day is a new beginning; every day we can return to listening to God and trusting in Him. It is the same message proclaimed by Ezekiel to the discouraged exiles: do not lose hope and continue to trust in the Lord. Faith is not an individual matter, but belongs to a people walking together towards God, and this is why the Psalm is always in the plural: ‘We are the people whom God leads’. This communal dimension is a fundamental characteristic of the Bible and also represents a challenge for the Church today. The text concludes by reminding us that the very question of trust runs through the entire Bible: when Saint Paul calls on us to be reconciled with God, he asks us to stop doubting His intentions; when Jesus calls on us to be converted and to believe in the Gospel, He asks us to believe in the Good News – that is, that God loves us and wants what is best for us. Even the story of Adam and Eve can be read in this light: the fundamental test is not outward obedience, but the trust that God always desires our freedom, our life and our happiness. Faith consists in believing that, even in trials, limitations and defeats, God can bring forth new life, freedom and resurrection.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (13:8–10)

If we are to find a central theme in this text, it is ‘dual loyalty: as a good citizen and as a disciple’. In other words, how to live as Christians in a non-Christian world. To understand this, we must place the text in its context. From chapter 12 of the Letter to the Romans, Paul offers advice to Christians on how to live as Christians in a world that is not our own. To live as a Christian is to make one’s life a ‘holy sacrifice’ (Paul’s text from last Sunday, in which he adds: ‘Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the will of God’ (Rom 12:2)). Today we are in Chapter 13, and Paul delves into the practicalities of social life: our relationship with the authorities. When one reads the whole chapter, one is struck by the specific details he gives regarding the obligations of citizens: respect for the courts, the payment of taxes and duties, and submission to all authorities. In short: a good Christian must be a good citizen: ‘Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities’ (Romans 13:1). Let us be frank: this instruction must have surprised more than a few, because the Jews and the Romans held two very different conceptions of power. In the Jewish world of the Old Testament, such words would not have surprised anyone, because political power lay in the hands of the religious authorities; civil law was not distinguished from the Law of God. From this perspective, Jesus had been able to say to the crowd and his disciples: ‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. Do and observe whatever they tell you’ (Mt 23:1–2). But the same could not be said of the Roman world; the authorities in question were the Roman emperors and the entire hierarchy of their governors, magistrates and soldiers, for whom God’s will was obviously the very last thing on their minds! And if Paul writes about not conforming to this world, it is because the ideal of Roman society was often diametrically opposed to the Christian ideal. So, is it possible to obey an authority steeped in paganism? This question lies at the heart of our text. Paul responds in two points:

First point: do not use faith as an excuse to shirk civil responsibilities, and he reasons as follows:  ‘There is no authority except that which God has established; the authorities that exist have been established by God’ (Romans 13:1), and here we hear an echo of Jesus’ words to Pilate: ‘You would have no power over me at all unless it had been given to you from above’ (John 19:11). Another argument: since in all countries the law is normally at the service of justice and the defence of the weak, Paul says: ‘The authorities are God’s servants for your good… for they are God’s agents of retribution, administering punishment to those who do wrong’ (Rom 13:4). The Jews, like the early Christians – the Romans made no distinction between them – were exempt from Roman laws that offended their conscience: for example, burning incense before the emperor’s statue, or performing military service. Therefore, says Saint Paul, obey the Roman laws, for one is not exempt from laws that are contrary to religion.

Second point: simply being in compliance is not enough; what is needed is the ‘debt of love’. One is not a good Jew or a good Christian merely by being in compliance with civil authority, for this does not take charity to its fullest extent. This is what the first sentence of today’s reading says: ‘Owe no one anything, except to love one another’ (Rom 13:8). ‘Owe no one anything’ – that is to say, it is not enough simply to be in good standing with everyone; one must go further. The ultimate meaning of the Torah is to love one’s brothers and sisters; in other words, it is not enough merely to refrain from murder, theft or adultery, because, as St Paul observes, all this is summed up in this: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ (Rom 13:9), and this means being in accordance with the Law of Moses. Paul adds that a profound conversion is required, which he describes in these words: “Be transformed by the renewal of your mind, so that you may discern the will of God—what is good, pleasing and perfect” (Romans 12:2). The true novelty is revealed when Christ asks the rich young man, an observer of the Torah, to give up everything and follow him: ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you possess, give it to the poor… then come and follow me’ (Mt 19:21). A choice that can take one a long way!

From the Gospel according to Matthew (18:15–20)

Jesus teaches that fraternal correction is about saving the person, not condemning them. In the second reading, Saint Paul reminds us not to be in debt to anyone, except for the debt of mutual love, since love is the perfect fulfilment of the Law (Rom 13:8, 10). The whole of chapter 18 of the Gospel of Matthew deals, from various angles, with the fulfilment of this love in relationships within the Christian community. In particular, it addresses two themes: the priority given to the little ones and the weak, and mutual forgiveness. To introduce these recommendations, Jesus tells the parable of the lost sheep – an image well known to his listeners – and compares the leaders of the community to shepherds appointed by the supreme Shepherd, who is God; the heavenly Father does not want any of these little ones to be lost (Mt 18:14). This concerns the duty of mutual watchfulness, following the model already set out by Ezekiel: ‘Woe to the shepherds of Israel…’ (Ezek 34:2). Jesus entrusts the disciples with the task of watching over one another, ensuring that their brothers and sisters do not go astray; and this duty falls first and foremost to those in charge of the community—the shepherds. But the duty of mutual care also exists within the flock; not only do the shepherds bear responsibility for the well-being of the flock, but the sheep too are responsible for one another, as Ezekiel further writes: ‘Thus says the Lord God: I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean… (Ezek 34:20–22). Ezekiel thus proclaimed that God himself would take charge of his flock once more through his Messiah: ‘I will raise up for them a single shepherd, who will tend them—my servant David. He will tend them; he will be their shepherd’ (Ezek 34:23). Jesus is the Good Shepherd who knows his sheep and by whom the sheep are known (cf. Jn 10), and he gives guidance for the life of the flock, particularly regarding fraternal support and help so that no one ‘is lost’. To bring back those who have gone astray requires a demanding love, for if you truly love someone, you are willing to do anything to rescue them if they are in danger. God is Love, and we are called to be like him, which is an incredibly demanding task. And if any Christian goes astray, Jesus shows the way forward: first, seek dialogue personally and do everything possible to help them rejoin the flock; and if, in the end, you are unable to do so, regard them as a pagan or a tax collector – which does not imply permanent exclusion. How, then, are we to interpret the phrase: ‘If they will not even listen to the community, let them be to you as a pagan and a tax collector’? In the light of all we know about Jesus and his constant welcome of tax collectors and sinners, this cannot be a definitive rejection but rather a respect for each person’s freedom… whilst waiting for Zacchaeus or the tax collector Matthew to be converted. What emerges from the approach recommended by Christ is the absolute necessity of respect for everyone, and in particular for those who call themselves sinners; and every step taken to restore communion must be marked by delicate discretion. These are the basic rules of life in the Church, and respecting them is the seed of eternal life: “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (Mt 18:18). Let us consider the final sentence: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Mt 18:20). In the sayings of the Jewish Fathers (the Pirkei Avot), we read: “When two sit together and engage in the words of the Torah, the Shekinah—that is, the presence of God—is amongst them” (Avot 3:2).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Mt 1:1-16.18-23)

Since the 7th century, the event of the first Dawn preceding the Coming of the Sun of Justice has been identified by Pope Sergius in the birth of Mary - according to Dante «a fixed term of eternal counsel».

The Mother of God is a figure who in the panorama of spirituality brings a radical novelty, because she does not generate the awaited David, but rather the most humble and favorable Person, with non-aggressive energy.

In her icon of «newly generated girl», she is also an image of the different, but real humanity, "accomplice" of our condition; from the heart not more artificial and stone [legalist] but of flesh.

So today’s Feast is a sort of prefiguration of Christmas, an event of Revelation of a disconcerting but finally authentic Face of God - and of the realized creatures.

Here, then, we are asked by the Gospel about the weight to be given to the rigidity of the norms, which in the history of spirituality have often devoured the spontaneous being of those called by the Father.

Genuineness that simply stimulates to express oneself, starting from one’s own vocational character.

Even the cultures animated by Wisdom of Nature attest to its weight.

The Tao Tê Ching (LVII) writes: «When with correction the world is ruled, with falsehood weapons are used [...] For this the saint says: I do not act and the people are transformed by themselves [...] I do not crave and the people become simple».

In the ancient East the genealogies indicated only men, and it is surprising that Mt mentions the name of as many as five women, considered only slavish creatures, unreliable, impure by nature.

But in the story of Mary‘s four companions there is not a little a-normal (even for the chosen model of life) but that it is worth it.

In order to reach the human fullness of the Son, God did not claim to overcome historical events, but on the contrary He took them on and valued them.

The path that leads to Christ is not question of climbing, nor of results or performance to be calibrated better and better in a linear crescendo - therefore moralizing and dirigist, which does not impose turns that matter, nor solves the real problems.

In events, the Eternal manages to give wings unfolded not so much to strength and genius, but to all the poor origins, to the smallness of our nature, which suddenly turns into totally unpredictable wealth. 

And if we constantly tear the thread, the Lord re-ties it down - not to fix it, to put a patch on it and to resume as before, but to redo a whole new plot. Starting from the defeats.

It is the energy of inadequacy and failure that makes us re-enter ourselves and finally “lose” our minds. Other configurations of the soul await us.

In the Gospels of Childhood [in Mt] God takes on two Names: Redeemer [Yeshua: God is Savior] and With-us. The sense of these prerogatives is not mechanical, but theological.

The proper Name of the Son Jesus describes his Work of recovering the whole being.

And the characteristic attribute Immanu'El [taken from Isaiah] points all the sons - our (many) addresses, that we are each, growing over time.

Incarnation: the Father is placed at the side of his intimates.

Not only does He not fear to make himself impure in contact with things concerning the dynamics of the earth: He even recognizes himself in their Condition.

For this reason, Joseph‘s discomfort even gives rise to the culmination of the entire History of Salvation.

What is striking about Mt’s narration is: the possibility of irruption of the salvific Plan’s top spring not from a religious certainty, but from a Doubt!

Every eminent Gift passes through the “flesh”, and here - in the unsafe - what seemed controversial becomes fruitful.

Embarrassment and the improbable finally activate intense and full life.

The Spirit that slips into the holes of standard mentalities finds a ‘point’ within us that allows us to flourish differently now, in transparency.

The true turning points of history. The difference between devotion and Faith.

[Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary,  September 8]

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

With our great pilgrimage to Mariazell, we are celebrating the patronal feast of this Shrine, the feast of Our Lady’s Birthday. For 850 years pilgrims have been travelling here from different peoples and nations; they come to pray for the intentions of their hearts and their homelands, bringing their deepest hopes and concerns. In this way Mariazell has become a place of peace and reconciled unity, not only for Austria, but far beyond her borders. Here we experience the consoling kindness of the Madonna. Here we meet Jesus Christ, in whom God is with us, as today’s Gospel reminds us – Jesus, of whom we have just heard in the reading from the prophet Micah: “He himself will be peace” (5:4). Today we join in the great centuries-old pilgrimage. We rest awhile with the Mother of the Lord, and we pray to her: Show us Jesus. Show to us pilgrims the one who is both the way and the destination: the truth and the life.

The Gospel passage we have just heard broadens our view. It presents the history of Israel from Abraham onwards as a pilgrimage, which, with its ups and downs, its paths and detours, leads us finally to Christ. The genealogy with its light and dark figures, its successes and failures, shows us that God can write straight even on the crooked lines of our history. God allows us our freedom, and yet in our failures he can always find new paths for his love. God does not fail. Hence this genealogy is a guarantee of God’s faithfulness; a guarantee that God does not allow us to fall, and an invitation to direct our lives ever anew towards him, to walk ever anew towards Jesus Christ.

Making a pilgrimage means setting out in a particular direction, travelling towards a destination. This gives a beauty of its own even to the journey and to the effort involved. Among the pilgrims of Jesus’s genealogy there were many who forgot the goal and wanted to make themselves the goal. Again and again, though, the Lord called forth people whose longing for the goal drove them forward, people who directed their whole lives towards it. The awakening of the Christian faith, the dawning of the Church of Jesus Christ was made possible, because there were people in Israel whose hearts were searching – people who did not rest content with custom, but who looked further ahead, in search of something greater: Zechariah, Elizabeth, Simeon, Anna, Mary and Joseph, the Twelve and many others. Because their hearts were expectant, they were able to recognize in Jesus the one whom God had sent, and thus they could become the beginning of his worldwide family. The Church of the Gentiles was made possible, because both in the Mediterranean area and in those parts of Asia to which the messengers of Jesus travelled, there were expectant people who were not satisfied by what everyone around them was doing and thinking, but who were seeking the star which could show them the way towards Truth itself, towards the living God.

We too need an open and restless heart like theirs. This is what pilgrimage is all about. Today as in the past, it is not enough to be more or less like everyone else and to think like everyone else. Our lives have a deeper purpose. We need God, the God who has shown us his face and opened his heart to us: Jesus Christ. Saint John rightly says of him that only he is God and rests close to the Father’s heart (cf. Jn 1:18); thus only he, from deep within God himself, could reveal God to us – reveal to us who we are, from where we come and where we are going. Certainly, there are many great figures in history who have had beautiful and moving experiences of God. Yet these are still human experiences, and therefore finite. Only HE is God and therefore only HE is the bridge that truly brings God and man together. So if we Christians call him the one universal Mediator of salvation, valid for everyone and, ultimately, needed by everyone, this does not mean that we despise other religions, nor are we arrogantly absolutizing our own ideas; on the contrary, it means that we are gripped by him who has touched our hearts and lavished gifts upon us, so that we, in turn, can offer gifts to others. In fact, our faith is decisively opposed to the attitude of resignation that considers man incapable of truth – as if this were more than he could cope with. This attitude of resignation with regard to truth, I am convinced, lies at the heart of the crisis of the West, the crisis of Europe. If truth does not exist for man, then neither can he ultimately distinguish between good and evil. And then the great and wonderful discoveries of science become double-edged: they can open up significant possibilities for good, for the benefit of mankind, but also, as we see only too clearly, they can pose a terrible threat, involving the destruction of man and the world. We need truth. Yet admittedly, in the light of our history we are fearful that faith in the truth might entail intolerance. If we are gripped by this fear, which is historically well grounded, then it is time to look towards Jesus as we see him in the shrine at Mariazell. We see him here in two images: as the child in his Mother’s arms, and above the high altar of the Basilica as the Crucified. These two images in the Basilica tell us this: truth prevails not through external force, but it is humble and it yields itself to man only via the inner force of its veracity. Truth proves itself in love. It is never our property, never our product, just as love can never be produced, but only received and handed on as a gift. We need this inner force of truth. As Christians we trust this force of truth. We are its witnesses. We must hand it on as a gift in the same way as we have received it, as it has given itself to us.

“To gaze upon Christ” is the motto of this day. For one who is searching, this summons repeatedly turns into a spontaneous plea, a plea addressed especially to Mary, who has given us Christ as her Son: “Show us Jesus!” Let us make this prayer today with our whole heart; let us make this prayer above and beyond the present moment, as we inwardly seek the Face of the Redeemer. “Show us Jesus!” Mary responds, showing him to us in the first instance as a child. God has made himself small for us. God comes not with external force, but he comes in the powerlessness of his love, which is where his true strength lies. He places himself in our hands. He asks for our love. He invites us to become small ourselves, to come down from our high thrones and to learn to be childlike before God. He speaks to us informally. He asks us to trust him and thus to learn how to live in truth and love. The child Jesus naturally reminds us also of all the children in the world, in whom he wishes to come to us. Children who live in poverty; who are exploited as soldiers; who have never been able to experience the love of parents; sick and suffering children, but also those who are joyful and healthy. Europe has become child-poor: we want everything for ourselves, and place little trust in the future. Yet the earth will be deprived of a future only when the forces of the human heart and of reason illuminated by the heart are extinguished – when the face of God no longer shines upon the earth. Where God is, there is the future.

“To gaze upon Christ”: let us look briefly now at the Crucified One above the high altar. God saved the world not by the sword, but by the Cross. In dying, Jesus extends his arms. This, in the first place, is the posture of the Passion, in which he lets himself be nailed to the Cross for us, in order to give us his life. Yet outstretched arms are also the posture of one who prays, the stance assumed by the priest when he extends his arms in prayer: Jesus transformed the Passion, his suffering and his death, into prayer, and in this way he transformed it into an act of love for God and for humanity. That, finally, is why the outstretched arms of the Crucified One are also a gesture of embracing, by which he draws us to himself, wishing to enfold us in his loving hands. In this way he is an image of the living God, he is God himself, and we may entrust ourselves to him.

“To gaze upon Christ!” If we do this, we realize that Christianity is more than and different from a moral code, from a series of requirements and laws. It is the gift of a friendship that lasts through life and death: “No longer do I call you servants, but friends” (Jn 15:15), the Lord says to his disciples. We entrust ourselves to this friendship. Yet precisely because Christianity is more than a moral system, because it is the gift of friendship, for this reason it also contains within itself great moral strength, which is so urgently needed today on account of the challenges of our time. If with Jesus Christ and his Church we constantly re-read the Ten Commandments of Sinai, entering into their full depth, then a great, valid and lasting teaching unfolds before us. The Ten Commandments are first and foremost a “yes” to God, to a God who loves us and leads us, who carries us and yet allows us our freedom: indeed, it is he who makes our freedom real (the first three commandments). It is a “yes” to the family (fourth commandment), a “yes” to life (fifth commandment), a “yes” to responsible love (sixth commandment), a “yes” to solidarity, to social responsibility and to justice (seventh commandment), a “yes” to truth (eighth commandment) and a “yes” to respect for other people and for what is theirs (ninth and tenth commandments). By the strength of our friendship with the living God we live this manifold “yes” and at the same time we carry it as a signpost into this world of ours today.

“Show us Jesus!” It was with this plea to the Mother of the Lord that we set off on our journey here. This same plea will accompany us as we return to our daily lives. And we know that Mary hears our prayer: yes, whenever we look towards Mary, she shows us Jesus. Thus we can find the right path, we can follow it step by step, filled with joyful confidence that the path leads into the light – into the joy of eternal Love. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, homily, 8 September 2007]