A few days ago, I read in the newspaper about another case of a 22-year-old girl being stabbed. She was stabbed because she was listening to music at too high a volume, annoying her attacker.

Recently, several similar incidents have been reported in the media, all involving young people and all for trivial reasons. Some were for looking too long at the girl of their dreams, others for a slightly risqué compliment, etc.

Unfortunately, many young people these days attack their peers with knives they carry with them. 

It should be noted that, like all objects, knives do not only have a negative value. They are used in the kitchen, for work; in the hands of a skilled chef, they become something precious. 

In primitive societies, they were used to defend against animals and enemies.

Today, in the world of young people and beyond, if we think of the numerous cases of femicide where women are killed with unprecedented ferocity, it seems to be becoming a kind of status symbol.

This tool is perceived as a sign of toughness and strength, especially among young people who feel marginalised. 

The episodes of violence that occur between two individuals have no valid reasons, but the spark that triggers them is a trivial, sometimes frivolous motive.

Often, the use of knives – weapons that are easy to obtain – is inherent in individuals associated with youth gangs, in order to  become part of them and become affiliated. Here, it is as if this object could be a 'magic wand' against feelings of inner malaise and emotional and social disappointments. And this weapon would make us feel invincible, or perhaps just stronger. 

Except for professionals, getting used to carrying a weapon with us can have repercussions on our way of being. We get used to it, and we may increasingly tend towards episodes of aggression towards others. 

Leaving the house and carrying a knife with us - sooner or later, at the slightest provocation, we are tempted to use it, thus fuelling fear and increasing the likelihood of becoming a victim ourselves. In the long run, our psyche 'brings out' aspects of ourselves that may have been 'dormant' in hidden corners of our unconsciousness.

The individual ends up engaging in antisocial behaviour. And in the many goals they try to achieve, this behaviour can sometimes be harmful to themselves.

These are individuals who have a normal intellectual level, sometimes even above average.

In my experience of similar cases, referred by the Juvenile Court to the Child Neuropsychiatry Service, episodes of knife violence were associated with a low intellectual level.

These individuals often encounter failure in every initiative they take, thus increasing their sense of frustration.

They generally tend to lie and often exploit others, giving little importance to moral values.

They habitually almost never tell the truth, even when they make a promise (which they usually do not keep), showing no distress and coldly maintaining their positions.

They may be influenced by films and ancestral cultures, which can reinforce their inclination to use such weapons, without being aware of the possible consequences and the potential escalation of violence. 

We 'young people of the past' were taught and passed on the ability to react constructively to the difficulties and humiliations that life inevitably brings. 

Today, however, it seems that everything is owed to us, that deprivation of anything in this excess of well-being is unbearable. 

And so, especially in emotionally unstable individuals, something triggers them to do harm; we are moving towards an insane, sick aggression. Not towards that 'healthy determination' that helps us overcome life's obstacles.

I have often heard from people who came before me, and perhaps also from some reading that I now cannot remember, that the most cruel beast is man. Two souls lurk in his heart: one made of sociability and a drive towards others, the other of jealousy and rivalry, of cruelty towards others.

People with these issues tend to be dishonest, to lie and deceive others, to try to exploit them, forgetting the moral principles they have learned.

These people always consider themselves 'the best'. If this is not perceived, anger rises - consciously or unconsciously.

When they cause harm, they feel no remorse and no guilt.

The line between what is legal and what is not becomes blurred. We tend to act impulsively, without considering the effect of our actions on others.

As a result, we sink lower and lower. We believe that others are only there to help us get what we want.

Often, violent or even sadistic behaviour is associated with a certain pleasure.

And here we also tend to participate in clashes with 'power'.

On a collective level, just look at the recent events in Turin, where violence is directed at law enforcement officers, those who represent the rules and seek to restore legality.

Without adhering to any ideology, I am personally convinced, leaving aside party politics, that limits must be restored from childhood. In this way, a child can grow up with a clear distinction between what is good and what is evil.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi, Psychologist-Psychotherapist.

5th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A) [8 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! We are approaching Lent. Let us begin to prepare ourselves spiritually. After the sixth Sunday, on 15 February, we will enter Lent.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (58:7-10)

At first glance, this text might seem like a nice moral lesson, which would already be something. In reality, however, it says much more. The context is that of the end of the 6th century BC: the return from exile has taken place, but deep wounds remain, 'the devastation of the past' and ruins to be rebuilt. In Jerusalem, religious practice has been re-established and, in good faith, people are trying to please God. However, the prophet has a delicate message to convey: the worship that pleases God is not what the people imagine. The fasts are spectacular, but daily life is marked by quarrels, violence and greed. For this reason, Isaiah denounces a worship that claims to obtain God's favour without conversion of heart: 'You fast for strife and self-defeating arguments... Is this the fast that I choose?' (Isaiah 58:4-5).

We are faced with one of the strongest texts in the Old Testament, which shakes our ideas about God and religion and answers with great clarity a fundamental question: what does God expect of us? These few biblical verses are the fruit of a long maturation in the faith of Israel. From Abraham onwards, people sought what pleased God: first human sacrifices, then animal sacrifices, then fasting, offerings and prayers. But throughout this history, the prophets never ceased to remind the people that true worship cannot be separated from the daily life of the Covenant. This is why Isaiah proclaims: the fast that God desires is to loose the chains of injustice, to free the oppressed, to break every yoke. In God's eyes, every gesture that frees a brother or sister is worth more than the most austere fast. This is followed by a list of concrete actions: feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming the homeless poor, clothing the naked, and helping all human misery. It is here that the truth of faith is measured. Three observations conclude the message: First, these actions are an imitation of God's own work, which Israel has always experienced as liberating and merciful. Human beings are truly called to be the image of God, and the way they treat others reveals their relationship with Him. Second: when Isaiah promises 'the glory of the Lord' (v. 8) to those who care for the poor, he is not speaking of an external reward, but of a reality: those who act like God reflect His presence, becoming light in the darkness, because 'where there is love, there is God'. Thirdly, every gesture of justice, liberation and sharing is a step towards the Kingdom of God, that Kingdom of justice and love that the Old Testament awaits and that the Gospel of the Beatitudes presents as being built day by day by the meek, the peaceful and those who hunger for justice.

*Responsorial Psalm (111/112)

Every year, during the Feast of Tabernacles, a feast that still lasts a week in autumn, the whole people made what we might call their "profession of faith": they renewed their Covenant with God and recommitted themselves to respecting the Law. Psalm 111/112 was certainly sung on this occasion. The entire psalm is in itself a short treatise on life in the Covenant: to understand it better, you have to read it from the beginning. I will read you the first verse: 'Hallelujah! Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who loves his will with all his heart!'. First of all, the psalm begins with the word Hallelujah, literally "Praise God," which is the key word of believers: when the man of the Bible invites us to praise God, it is precisely because of the gift of the Covenant. Then, this psalm is an alphabetical psalm: that is, it contains twenty-two verses, as many as there are letters in the Hebrew alphabet; the first word of each verse begins with a letter of the alphabet in alphabetical order. It is a way of affirming that the Covenant with God concerns the whole of man's life and that God's Law is the only path to happiness for the whole of existence, from A to Z. Finally, the first verse begins with the word 'blessed', addressed to the man who knows how to remain on the path of the Covenant. This immediately brings to mind the Gospel of the Beatitudes, which echoes the same term 'blessed': Jesus uses a word here that is very common in the Bible, but which unfortunately our English translation does not fully convey. In his commentary on the Psalms, André Chouraqui observed that the Hebrew root of this word (blessed is the man Ashrê hā'îsh) has as its fundamental meaning the path, the man's steps on the unobstructed road that leads to the Lord. It is therefore 'less about happiness than about the path that leads to it'. For this reason, Chouraqui himself translated 'Blessed' as 'On the way', implying: you are on the right path, continue. Generally, in the Bible, the word 'blessed' does not stand alone: it is contrasted with its opposite 'unhappy' (blessed is barùk and cursed is 'arūr). The general idea is that in life there are false paths to avoid; some choices or behaviours lead to good, others, on the contrary, lead only to unhappiness. And if we read the entire psalm, we realise that it is constructed in this way. Even the better-known Psalm 1 is structured in the same way: first it describes the good paths, the path to happiness, and only briefly the bad ones, because they are not worth dwelling on. Here, the good choice is already indicated in the first verse: 'Blessed is the man who fears the Lord!'. We find this expression frequently in the Old Testament: the 'fear of God'. Unfortunately, in the liturgical reading, the second part of the verse is missing; I will read it to you in its entirety: 'Blessed is the man who fears the Lord, who loves his will with all his heart.' Here, then, is a definition of 'fear of God': it is love of his will, because one acts in trust. The fear of the Lord is not fear in a negative sense: in fact, a little further on, another verse makes this clear: "The righteous man... trusts in the Lord. His heart is secure" (vv. 7-8). The "fear of God" in the biblical sense is both an awareness of God's holiness, a recognition of all that He does for man and, since He is our Creator, a concern to obey Him: only He knows what is good for us. It is a filial attitude of respect and trusting obedience. Israel thus discovers two truths: God is the All-Other, but He also makes Himself All-Near. He is infinitely powerful, but this power is that of love. We have nothing to fear, because He can and wants our happiness! In Psalm 102/103 we read: "As a father's compassion is toward his children, so the Lord's compassion is toward those who fear Him." To fear the Lord means to have a respectful and trusting attitude toward Him. It also means "to lean on Him." This is the right attitude towards God, the one that puts man on the right path: "Blessed is the man who fears the Lord!" And this is also the right attitude towards others: "The righteous man, merciful, compassionate and just... he gives generously to the poor" (vv. 4, 8). The previous psalm (110/111), very similar to this one, uses the same words "justice, tenderness and mercy" for God and for man. Daily observance of the Law, in everyday life, from A to Z, as symbolised by the alphabet of the psalm, shapes us in God's likeness. I say likeness, because the psalmist reminds us that the Lord remains the All-Other: the formulas are not identical. For God, it is said that He is justice, tenderness and mercy, while for man, the psalmist says "he is a man of justice, tenderness and mercy", that is, these are virtues that he practises, not his intrinsic being. These virtues come from God, and man reflects them in some way. And because his actions are in the image of God, the righteous man becomes a light for others: 'he springs up in the darkness, a light for the upright' (v. 4). Here we hear an echo of the first reading from the prophet Isaiah: 'Share your bread with the hungry, bring the homeless poor into your house, clothe the naked... then your light will rise like the dawn' (58:7). When we give and share, we are more in the image of God, who is pure gift. To the extent that we are able, we reflect his light.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (2:1-5)

 Saint Paul, as he often does, proceeds by contrasts: the first contrast is that the mystery of God is completely different from the wisdom of men; the second contrast concerns the language of the apostle who proclaims the mystery, which is very different from beautiful human speech and eloquence. Let us take up these two contrasts: the mystery of God / human wisdom; Christian language / eloquence or oratory. First contrast: the mystery of God or human wisdom. Paul says that he came 'to proclaim the mystery of God'; by mystery we mean God's 'merciful plan', which will be developed later in the Letter to the Ephesians (Eph 1:3-14): this plan is to make humanity a perfect communion of love around Jesus Christ, founded on the values of love, mutual service, gift and forgiveness. Jesus already puts this into practice throughout his earthly life. We are therefore very far from the idea of a powerful God in the military sense, as some sometimes imagine. This mystery of God is realised through a 'crucified Messiah', which is completely contrary to human logic, almost a paradox. Paul affirms that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah, but not as expected: he was not expected to be crucified; according to our logic, the crucifixion seemed to prove the opposite, because everyone remembered a famous phrase from Deuteronomy: whoever was condemned to death by the law was considered cursed by God (Dt 21:22-23). Yet, this plan of the almighty God is nothing less than Jesus Christ, as Paul says. In witnessing to his faith, Paul has nothing to proclaim but Jesus Christ: He is the centre of human history, of God's plan and of his faith. He wants to know nothing else: "For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ." Behind this phrase we can glimpse the difficulties of resisting the pressures, insults and persecutions already present. This crucified Messiah shows us true wisdom, the wisdom of God: gift and forgiveness, rejection of violence... the whole message of the Gospel of the Beatitudes. In the face of this divine wisdom, human wisdom is reasoning, persuasion, strength and power; this wisdom cannot understand the message of the Gospel. In fact, Paul experienced failure in Athens, the centre of philosophy (Acts 17:16-34). Second opposition: the language of the preacher or the art of oratory. Paul makes no claim to eloquence: this already reassures us, if we are not skilled orators. But he goes further: for him, eloquence, oratory, and the ability to persuade are actually obstacles, incompatible with the message of the Gospel. Proclaiming the Gospel does not mean showing off knowledge or imposing arguments. It is interesting to note that the word 'convince' contains the word 'win': perhaps we are in the wrong place if we think we are proclaiming the religion of Love. Faith, like love, cannot be persuaded... Try to convince someone to love you: love cannot be demonstrated, it cannot be reasoned. The same is true of the mystery of God: it can only be penetrated gradually. The mystery of a poor Messiah, a Messiah-Servant, a crucified Messiah, cannot be proclaimed by means of power: that would be the opposite of the mystery itself! It is in poverty that the Gospel is proclaimed: this should give us courage! The poor Messiah can only be proclaimed by poor means; the Messiah-Servant only by servants. Do not worry if you are not a great speaker: our poverty of language is the only one compatible with the Gospel. Paul goes further and even says that our poverty is a necessary condition for preaching: it leaves room for God's action. It is not Paul who convinces the Corinthians, but the Spirit of God, who gives preaching the power of truth, enabling Christ to be discovered. It follows that it is not the power of our reasoning that convinces: faith is not based on human wisdom, but on the power of the Spirit of God. We can only lend him our voice. Obviously, as with Paul, this requires an enormous act of faith: It was in my weakness, trembling and fearful, that I came to you. My language, my preaching had nothing to do with convincing wisdom; but the Spirit and his power were manifested, so that your faith might not be based on human wisdom, but on the power of God. When it seems that the circle of believers is shrinking, when we dream of powerful media, electronic or financial tools, it is good for us to feel that the proclamation of the Gospel is best suited to poor means. But to accept this, we must admit that the Holy Spirit is the best preacher, and that the witness of our poverty is the best preaching.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (5:13-16)

If a lamp is beautiful, that is better, but it is not the most important thing! What is required first and foremost is that it gives light, because if it does not give good light, nothing can be seen. As for salt, its vocation is to disappear while performing its task: if it is missing, the dish will be less tasty. On closer inspection, salt and light do not exist for their own sake. Jesus says to his disciples: 'You are the salt of the earth... You are the light of the world': what matters is the earth, the world; salt and light matter only in relation to the earth and the world! By telling his disciples that they are salt and light, Jesus puts them in a missionary situation: you who receive my words become, for this very reason, salt and light for the world: your presence is indispensable. In other words, the Church exists only to evangelise the world. This puts us in our place! The Bible already reminded the people of Israel that they were the chosen people, but at the service of the world; this lesson also applies to us. Returning to salt and light: one may ask what the two elements to which Jesus compares his disciples have in common. We can answer that both are revelatory: salt enhances the flavour of food, light reveals the beauty of people and the world. Food exists before it receives salt; the world and beings exist before they are illuminated. This tells us a lot about the mission that Jesus entrusts to his disciples, to us: no one needs us in order to exist, but we have a specific role to play. Salt of the earth: we are here to reveal to people the flavour of their lives. People do not wait for us to perform acts of love and sharing, which are sometimes wonderful. Evangelising means saying that the Kingdom is among you, in every gesture, in every word of love, and "where there is love, there is God." Light of the world: we are here to enhance the beauty of this world. It is the gaze of love that reveals the true face of people and things. The Holy Spirit has been given to us precisely to be in tune with every gesture or word that comes from Him. But this can only happen with discretion and humility. Too much salt ruins the taste of food; too strong a light crushes what it wants to illuminate. To be salt and light, one must love deeply, truly love. Today's readings repeat this to us in different but consistent ways. Evangelisation is not a conquest; the New Evangelisation is not a reconquest. The proclamation of the Gospel takes place only in the presence of love. Let us remember Paul's warning to the Corinthians in the second reading: only the poor and the humble can preach the Kingdom. This presence of love can be very demanding, as the first reading shows: the connection between Isaiah and the Gospel is very significant. To be the light of the world means to be at the service of our brothers and sisters; Isaiah is concrete: sharing bread or clothing, breaking down all obstacles that impede human freedom. This Sunday's Psalm also says the same thing: 'the righteous man', that is, the one who generously shares his riches, is a light for others. Through his words and gestures of love, others will discover the source of all love: as Jesus says. Seeing the good that the disciples do, people will give glory to the Father in heaven, that is, they will discover that God's plan for humanity is a plan of peace and justice. On the contrary, how can people believe in God's plan of love if we, his ambassadors, do not multiply the gestures of solidarity and justice that society requires? Salt is always in danger of losing its flavour: it is easy to forget the powerful words of the prophet Isaiah, heard in the first reading; and it is no coincidence that the liturgy offers them to us just before the beginning of Lent, a time when we will reflect on what kind of fasting God prefers. One last observation: today's Gospel (salt and light) immediately follows the proclamation of the Beatitudes in Matthew last Sunday. There is therefore a link between the two passages, which can illuminate each other. Perhaps the best way to be salt and light is to live according to the spirit of the Beatitudes, that is, in opposition to the spirit of the world: to accept humility, gentleness, purity, justice; to be peacemakers in all circumstances; and, above all, to accept poverty and lack, with a single goal: 'so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven'. Additions: According to the Second Vatican Council document on the Church, Lumen Gentium, we are not the true light of the world; Jesus Christ is. By telling his disciples that they are light, Jesus reveals that it is God himself who shines through them, because in Scripture, as in the Council, it is always made clear that all light comes from God.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Presentation of Jesus at the Temple [2 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! Here is also a brief commentary on the texts of the liturgy for the feast of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Malachi (3:1-4)

Malachi's text was written in a context of crisis: there was no longer a Davidic king, the people were subjugated by the Persians, and authority was in the hands of the priests. For this reason, the prophet insists on the covenant with the Levites, recalling its divine origin and denouncing its present corruption. The central announcement is the imminent coming of the Lord to his temple, also called the Angel of the Covenant: not a simple messenger, but God himself who comes to re-establish the Covenant. This coming is both desired and feared, because it is a coming of judgement that purifies: it does not destroy man, but eliminates the evil that is in him. Before this coming, God sends a messenger who prepares the way by calling for conversion. The New Testament will recognise John the Baptist as this precursor and Jesus himself as the Angel of the Covenant announced by Malachi. The message remains relevant today: God enters his temple to renew the Covenant, purify worship and lead his people back to fidelity of heart.

*Responsorial Psalm (23/24, 7, 8, 9, 10)

The poetic expression "Lift up your heads, O gates" (v. 9) is a hyperbole that celebrates the majesty of the "King of Glory," that is, God himself, who solemnly enters the Temple of Jerusalem. The gates do not simply open: they are lifted up, as if the building itself had to become larger to accommodate the divine presence. The psalm refers to the solemn dedication of the first Temple by Solomon (around 950 BC), when the Ark of the Covenant was carried in procession to the Holy City, accompanied by singing, music and sacrifices. The Ark, placed in the Holy of Holies under the wings of the cherubim, represented the invisible throne of God in the midst of his people. The cherubim, far from the imagery of little angels, were majestic and symbolic figures, a sign of divine sovereignty. The psalm seems to be structured as a liturgical dialogue between two choirs: one invites the gates to open, the other proclaims the identity of the king of glory as the strong and victorious Lord. The warrior titles remind us that God accompanied Israel in its struggles for freedom and survival: the Ark was the sign of his presence in the people's battles. Even after the disappearance of the Ark, especially after the Babylonian Exile, this psalm continued to be sung in the Temple. It was precisely the absence of the Ark that increased its spiritual value: Israel learned that God's presence is not tied to an object, however sacred and laden with memory. Over the centuries, the psalm took on a messianic meaning: the invocation 'let the King of glory enter' became an expression of the expectation of the Messiah, the definitive king who would defeat evil and inaugurate a renewed humanity. The 'Lord of hosts' came to be understood progressively as the God of the universe, no longer just the God of Israel but the Lord of all humanity. This is why the Christian liturgy sings this psalm on the feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple: it is a profession of faith that recognises in that child the true king of glory, God himself who enters his Temple and comes to meet his people.

*Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (2:14-18)

The Letter to the Hebrews was written in a climate of controversy: Christians of Jewish origin were accused of following a Messiah who could not be a priest according to the Law. The author responds by showing that Jesus fulfils the priesthood in a new and definitive way. Although he does not belong to the tribe of Levi, Jesus is a priest according to the order of Melchizedek, that is, in a more ancient and universal form. He does not reproduce the priesthood of the Old Testament, but brings it to fulfilment, realising its profound purpose. Jesus is a true priest because: he is fully in solidarity with humanity, sharing its weakness, suffering and death; he is in full communion with God, as his resurrection demonstrates; he re-establishes the Covenant, freeing humanity from fear and the slavery of death. Salvation is offered to all, but it concerns in particular the 'children of Abraham', that is, those who live in faith as trust. The Covenant is a free gift from God, but it requires a free response: to accept or reject it remains the responsibility of man.

*From the Gospel according to Saint Luke (2:22-40)

  The account of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple is constructed with great care and highlights two fundamental elements: the Law and the Spirit. In the first verses, Luke repeatedly emphasises the Law of Israel, not as a simple set of prescriptions, but as an expression of the faith and expectation of the people. Jesus' life begins within the faith of Israel: Mary and Joseph devoutly perform the prescribed gestures, placing the child within the history and hope of their people. Luke's first message is clear: the salvation of humanity is born within the Law of Israel. It is in this context that the Word of God became incarnate and that God's plan of love for humanity took shape. Immediately afterwards, Simeon enters the scene, guided by the Holy Spirit, who is also mentioned several times. It is the Spirit who reveals the identity of the child to him: Jesus is the Saviour prepared by God before all peoples. Simeon's words summarise the entire Old Testament as a long preparation for the fulfilment of salvation, which concerns not only Israel but all humanity. Israel is the 'glory' because it has been chosen as the instrument of universal salvation. The event takes place in the Temple of Jerusalem, a decisive place for Luke: here Malachi's prophecy about the Lord's sudden entry into his Temple is fulfilled. Jesus is recognised as the Angel of the Covenant, the Lord himself who comes to visit his people. The images of light and glory used by Simeon fit perfectly into this perspective. The story also recalls the Psalm of the 'king of glory': the long-awaited royal Messiah enters the Temple, not with outward power, but in the poverty of a newborn baby. Nevertheless, the scene is solemn and full of glory, because in that child is present all the expectation of Israel, represented by Simeon and Anna, figures of faithful hope. Simeon's canticle affirms that Jesus is the Messiah and the glory of God: with him, divine glory enters the Sanctuary. This means that Jesus not only brings the glory of God, but is the glory of God, is God himself present among his people. With his coming, the time of the Law reaches its fulfilment: the Angel of the Covenant has entered the Temple to give the Spirit, enlighten the nations and inaugurate the new time of universal salvation.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [1 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Rereading and meditating on the Beatitudes in Matthew's Gospel is always an invitation to rediscover the heart of the Gospel faith and to have the courage to live it faithfully.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Zephaniah (2:3; 3:12-13)

The Book of Zephaniah is striking for its sharp contrasts: on the one hand, there are terrible threats against Jerusalem, with the prophet appearing very angry; on the other hand, there are encouragements and promises of a happy future, always directed at the city. The question is: to whom are the threats addressed and to whom the encouragement? Historically, we are in the 7th century BC, in the kingdom of Judah, the southern kingdom. The young king Josiah ascends the throne at the age of eight, after the assassination of his father, in very turbulent times. The Assyrian empire, with its capital at Nineveh, is expanding, and local kings often prefer to surrender to avoid destruction: Jerusalem becomes a vassal of Nineveh. The prophets, however, firmly support the freedom of the chosen people: asking for an alliance with an earthly king means not trusting in the King of heaven. Accepting Assyrian protection was not only a political act, but also entailed the cultural and religious influence of the ruler, with the risk of idolatry and the loss of Israel's mission. Zephaniah denounced all this and prophesied punishment: 'I will raise my hand against Judah and against all the inhabitants of Jerusalem... on the day of the Lord's wrath' (Zephaniah 1:4-6), a text reminiscent of the famous Dies Irae. Seek the Lord, all you humble of the land. Alongside the threats, Zephaniah addresses a message of comfort to the "humble of the land" (in Hebrew anawim, the bowed down), who are law-abiding and righteous, and therefore protected from the Day of the Lord's wrath: God himself is with them. It is the day when creation will be renewed and evil destroyed. The message is not for others, but for each one of us: we are all called to conversion, to become "the humble of the land," the "Remnant of Israel" that the previous prophets had announced. God, who is faithful, will always save at least a small group that has remained faithful. It will be this small remnant, poor and humble, that will carry on the mission of the chosen people: to reveal God's plan to the world. Being humble means recognising one's own limitations (humus) and trusting totally in God. Thus, God's judgement is not against people, but against the evil that corrupts. The small faithful remnant will be the leaven in the world, preserving the true identity of the people and the divine mission. God's wrath strikes only evil, never the innocent. Zephaniah also criticises the adoption of Assyrian customs, such as foreign clothing (Zeph 1:8): it was not just fashion, but a sign of imitation of the pagans, a risk of losing identity and faith.

*Responsorial Psalm (145/146)

Here we have three verses from the Psalm as an inventory of the beneficiaries of God's mercy: the oppressed, the hungry, the chained, the blind, the afflicted, the strangers, the widows and the orphans—all those whom men ignore or despise. The Israelites know these situations because they have experienced them: oppression in Egypt, then in Babylon. The Psalm was written after the return from the Babylonian exile, perhaps for the dedication of the rebuilt Temple. Liberation from evil and oppression is perceived as proof of God's faithfulness to the covenant: "The Lord brings justice to the oppressed, the Lord frees those in chains." God also provides for material needs: during the Exodus, he fed the people with manna and quails. Gradually, God reveals himself to the blind, lifts up the afflicted and guides the people towards justice: 'God loves the righteous'. The Psalm is therefore a song of gratitude: "The Lord brings justice to the oppressed / gives bread to the hungry / frees those in chains / opens the eyes of the blind / lifts up those who are afflicted / loves the righteous / protects the stranger / supports widows and orphans. The Lord is your God forever." The insistence on the name Lord (7 times) recalls the sacred Tetragrammaton YHVH, revealed to Moses at the burning bush, symbol of God's constant and liberating presence. "The Lord is your God forever," the final phrase recalls the Covenant: "You shall be my people, and I will be your God." The Psalm looks to the future, strengthening the hope of the people. The name of God Ehiè asher ehiè (I am who I am / I will be who I will be) emphasises his eternal presence. Repeating this Psalm serves to recognise God's work and to guide conduct: if God has acted in this way towards Israel, the people must behave in the same way towards others, especially the excluded. The Law of Israel provided rules to protect widows, orphans, and foreigners, so that the people would be free and respectful of the freedom of others. The prophets judged fidelity to the Covenant mainly on the basis of attitude towards the poor and oppressed: the fight against idolatry, the promotion of justice and mercy, as in Hos 6:6 (I desire mercy, not sacrifice) and Mic 6:8 (Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with God). Sirach also reminds us: 'The tears of the widow flow down the face of God' (Si 35:18), emphasising that those who are close to God must feel compassion for those who suffer.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (1:26-31).

It would seem to be the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector: the world is 'turned upside down'. Those who appear wise in the eyes of men, as Paul points out, are not considered worthy before God. This does not mean that Paul despises wisdom: since the time of King Solomon, it has been a virtue sought after in prayer, and Isaiah presents it as a gift of the Spirit of God: 'The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and discernment...' The Bible distinguishes between two types of wisdom: the wisdom of men and the wisdom of God. What seems reasonable in the eyes of men may be far from God's plan, and what is wise in the eyes of God may appear foolish to men. Our logic is human, God's is the logic of love: the folly of divine love, as Paul says, surpasses all human reasoning. This is why the life and death of Christ may seem scandalous. Isaiah says it clearly: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways" (Is 55:8). This distance between human and divine thought is such that Jesus goes so far as to rebuke Peter: "Get behind me, Satan! You are not thinking according to God, but according to men" (Mt 16:23). God is the "All-Other": the hierarchy of human values is overturned before him. Often in the history of the Covenant, God chooses the least: think of David, the youngest of Jesse's sons, or the people of Israel, "the least of all" (Deut 7:7; Deut 9:6). God's choices are gratuitous, independent of human merit. True wisdom, divine wisdom, is a gift from We cannot understand God with our own strength: everything we know about Him is revealed to us by Him. Paul reminds the Corinthians that all knowledge of God is a gift: "In him you have received every spiritual blessing... you are not lacking in any spiritual gift" (1 Cor 1:4-7). The gift of knowledge of God is not a reason for pride, but for gratitude. As Jeremiah says: "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom... but of having the intelligence to know me, the Lord" (Jer 9:22-23). Paul applies these principles to the Corinthians: in the eyes of the world, they were neither wise, nor powerful, nor noble. Yet God calls them, creating his Church out of their poverty and weakness. Their 'nobility' is Baptism. Corinth becomes an example of God's surprising initiative, recreating the world according to his logic, inviting men not to boast before God, but to give him glory for his love.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (5:1-12a)

 I pause to reflect on the beatitude that may seem most difficult: 'Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted' (Mt 5:4). It is not a question of rejoicing in mourning itself, nor of considering suffering as good fortune. Jesus himself devoted much of his life to comforting, healing and encouraging people: Matthew reminds us that 'Jesus proclaimed the Good News of the Kingdom and healed every disease and infirmity among the people' (Mt 4:23). The tears Jesus speaks of are, rather, tears of repentance and tears of compassion. Think of St Peter, who wept bitterly after his denial, finding consolation in God's mercy. Or remember the vision of the prophet Ezekiel: on the last day, God "will mark with a cross on the forehead those who groan and lament over the abominations that are committed" (Ezekiel 9:4). These words of Jesus were addressed to his Jewish contemporaries, who were accustomed to the preaching of the prophets. For us, understanding them means rereading the Old Testament. As the prophet Zephaniah invites us: 'Seek the Lord, all you humble of the earth' (Zeph 2:3). And the psalm sings: “I have asked one thing of the Lord: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life” (Ps 145/146:5). These are the true “poor in spirit,” those who entrust themselves completely to God, like the tax collector in the parable: aware of their sins, they open themselves to the Lord’s salvation. Jesus assures us that those who seek God with all their heart will be heard: "Seek and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you" (Mt 7:7). And the prophets call those whose hearts are turned solely to God "pure". The Beatitudes, therefore, are Good News: it is not power, knowledge or wealth that leads us to the Kingdom, but gentleness, mercy and justice. As Jesus says to his disciples: " I am sending you out like lambs among wolves” (Lk 10:3). Each beatitude points to a path towards the Kingdom: each “Blessed” is an invitation, an encouragement: it is as if it were saying, “take courage, you are on the right path”. Our weaknesses become fertile ground for God’s presence: poverty of heart, tears, hunger for justice, persecution. Paul reminds us: “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord” (1 Cor 1:31). Finally, let us remember that Jesus is the perfect model: poor in heart, gentle, merciful, compassionate, just and persecuted, always grateful to the Father. His life teaches us to look at ourselves and others through the eyes of God, and to discover the Kingdom where we least expect it.

St Augustine writes in his commentary on this beatitude: "Blessed, says the Lord, are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. He does not refer to bodily sadness, but to the sorrow of the heart for sins and the desire to convert to God" (Enarrationes in Psalmos, 30:5).

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)  [25 January 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! Today marks the end of the week of prayer for Christian unity. The word of God offers food for thought, especially  the second reading  (which recounts the situation of the community in Corinth with divisions due to the presence of various preachers).

The Gospel shows the beginning of Jesus' preaching with his disciples, who will accompany him all the way to Jerusalem.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (8:23b - 9:3)

At the time of Isaiah, the kingdom of Israel was divided into two: the North (Israel, capital Samaria) and the South (Judah, capital Jerusalem), the latter being legitimate as heir to the dynasty of David. Isaiah preaches in Jerusalem but speaks mainly of places in the North, such as Zebulun, Naphtali, Galilee and Transjordan, territories that were conquered by the Assyrian Empire between 732 and 721 BC. The prophet announces that God will transform the situation: the regions that were initially humiliated will be honoured, as a sign of liberation and rebirth. These promises also concern the south, because geographical proximity means that threats to one area weigh on the other, and because the south hopes for future reunification under its own leadership. Isaiah describes the birth of a king, associating his coming with royal coronation formulas: 'A child has been born to us, a son has been given to us' (Isaiah 9:5-6). This is the young Hezekiah, associated with the reign of his father, King Ahaz, and considered the 'prince of peace'. The prophet's certainty is based on God's faithfulness: even in trials and oppression, God will never abandon the dynasty of David. The promised victory recalls that of Gideon over the Midianites: even with few resources, faith in God leads to liberation. The final message is one of hope: do not be afraid, God does not abandon his plan of love for humanity, even in the darkest moments.

*Responsorial Psalm (26/(27)

"The Lord is my light and my salvation" is not just an individual expression: it reflects the invincible trust of the people of Israel in God, in every circumstance of life, from joys to difficulties. The psalm uses concrete images to tell the collective story of Israel, a frequent procedure in the Psalms called clothing: the people are compared to a sick person healed by God, to an innocent person unjustly condemned, to an abandoned child or to a besieged king. Behind these individual images, we recognise specific historical situations: external threats, sieges of cities and internal crises of the kingdom, such as the attack of the Amalekites in the desert, the kings of Samaria and Damascus against Ahaz, or the famous siege of Jerusalem by Sennacherib. The people can react like David, a normal and sinful man, but steadfast in his faith, or like Ahaz, who gives in to panic and loses his trust in God. In any case, the psalm shows that collective faith is nourished by trust in God and the memory of his works. Another key image is that of the Levite, servant of the Temple: just as the Levites serve God daily, so the whole people of Israel is consecrated to the service of the Lord and belongs to him. Finally, the psalm ends with a promise of hope: 'I am sure that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living'; trust is rooted in the memory of God's actions and translates into courage and active hope: 'Hope in the Lord, be strong,  strengthen your heart and hope in the Lord'. This hope is like the "memory of the future," that is, the certainty that God will intervene even in the darkest circumstances. The psalm is therefore very suitable for funeral celebrations, because it reinvigorates the faith and hope of the faithful even in times of sorrow, reminding them that God never abandons His people and always supports those who trust in Him.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (1:10-13, 17)

The port of Corinth, due to its strategic position between two seas and its lively trade, was a true crossroads of cultures, ideas and peoples. This explains why newly converted Christians reacted in different ways to the teachings of preachers: each traveller brought testimonies of the Christian faith according to his own experience, and the Corinthians were very sensitive, perhaps too sensitive, to beautiful words and persuasive arguments. In this context, divisions arose in the community: some referred to Paul, others to Apollos, others to Peter, and finally a group called themselves 'of Christ'. Paul not only condemns wrong behaviour, but sees in this phenomenon the risk of compromising the very meaning of baptism. Apollos, a Jew from Alexandria, is an emblematic example: an intellectual, well-versed in the Scriptures, eloquent and fervent, he was baptised only by John and perfected by Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus. When he arrived in Corinth, he was very successful, but he never sought to become a personal leader and, in order not to fuel divisions, he then moved to Ephesus. This episode shows how passion and skills should not become a source of division, but should be put at the service of the community. Paul reminds the Corinthians of the truth of baptism: to be baptised means to belong to Christ, not to a human preacher. Baptism is a real and definitive union with Christ, who acts through the sacrament: as the Second Vatican Council says, 'when the priest baptises, it is Christ who baptises'. Paul also emphasises that preaching should not be based on eloquence or persuasive arguments, because the cross of Christ and love are not imposed by the force of words, but are lived and witnessed. The image of grafting clarifies this point well: what is important is the result – union with Christ – not who administered the baptism. What matters is fidelity to the message and love of Christ, not rhetorical skill or personal prestige. Ultimately, Paul's message to the Corinthians is universal and relevant: the unity of the Christian community is based on a common faith in Christ, not on leaders or human eloquence, and the true greatness of the Church lies in its spiritual cohesion, founded on baptism and belonging to Christ.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (4:12-23)

We are in chapter 4 of Matthew's Gospel. In the previous three chapters, Matthew has presented us with: first, a long genealogy that places Jesus in the history of his people, particularly in the lineage of David; then, the angel's announcement to Joseph: "Behold, the Virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel, which means God with us," a quotation from Isaiah, with the clarification that all this happened so that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, emphasising that the promises are finally fulfilled and the Messiah has arrived. The subsequent episodes reiterate this message of fulfilment: the visit of the Magi, the flight into Egypt, the massacre of the children of Bethlehem, the return from Egypt and the settlement in Nazareth, the preaching of John the Baptist, the baptism of Jesus and the Temptations. All these stories are full of biblical quotations and allusions. Now we are ready to listen to today's text, which is also rich in references: from the outset, Matthew quotes Isaiah to show the importance of Jesus' settlement in Capernaum. Capernaum is located in Galilee, on the shores of Lake Tiberias. Matthew specifies that it belongs to the territories of Zebulun and Naphtali: ancient names, no longer in common use, linked to Isaiah's promise that these once-humiliated lands would be illuminated by the glory of Galilee, 'the crossroads of the Gentiles' (Isaiah 8:23). The prophet continues: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light," a formula reminiscent of the sacred ritual of the coronation of a king, symbolising a new era. Matthew applies these words to the arrival of Jesus: the true King of the world has come; light has dawned on Israel and on humanity. Galilee, the crossroads of nations, becomes an open door to the world, from which the Messiah will spread salvation. Furthermore, Matthew already foreshadows future events: Jesus heads for Galilee after the arrest of John the Baptist, showing that Christ's life will be marked by persecution, but also by the final victory over evil: from every obstacle, God will bring forth good. Upon arriving in Capernaum, Matthew uses the expression "From then on," which is unique in the Gospel along with another in chapter 16, signalling a major turning point. Here it indicates the beginning of public preaching: "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near." The other reference in chapter 16 will concern the passion and resurrection. This episode marks the transition from the time of promise to the time of fulfilment. The Kingdom is present, not only in words but in action: "Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the Kingdom and healing every kind of disease and infirmity among the people." Isaiah's prophecy is fully realised: the Kingdom of God is among us. To spread this Good News, Jesus chooses witnesses, ordinary men, to join him in his mission of salvation. He calls them "fishers of men", that is, those who save from drowning, a symbol of their task of salvation. Thus the apostles become participants in the Saviour's mission.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [18 January 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Today begins the week of prayer for Christian unity (18-25 January) and Ordinary Time resumes.

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (49:3-6)

This passage belongs to a group of four texts from the prophet Isaiah, called the "Songs of the Servant". They date back to the dramatic period of the Babylonian Exile (6th century BC) and are addressed to a discouraged people who wonder if God has forgotten them. The prophet, however, announces a decisive word: Israel is still God's servant. The Covenant is not broken; God has not only not abandoned his people, but entrusts them with an even greater mission. In this song, the Servant is not a particular individual, but the people of Israel as a whole, as the text clearly states: 'You are my servant, Israel'. Its vocation is equally clear: to manifest the glory of God. This glory is not abstract, but concrete: it is God's work of salvation, identified here with the return from exile. The liberation of the people will be the visible proof that God is the saviour. Thus, those who have been saved become witnesses of salvation before the world. In the ancient mindset, the defeat and deportation of a people could seem like the failure of their God; liberation, on the other hand, will manifest to the pagan peoples the superiority of the God of Israel. Being a "servant" therefore means, on the one hand, the certainty of God's support and, on the other, a mission: to continue to believe in salvation and to bear witness to it, so that other peoples may also recognise God as saviour. This explains the final announcement: 'I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth'. God's plan concerns not only Israel but all humanity. Here, the messianic expectation evolves profoundly: the Messiah is no longer an individual king but a collective subject, the people of Israel, who do not exercise political power but carry out a mission of service. One difficulty remains: if the Servant is Israel, how can he "gather Israel"? Isaiah is actually addressing the "Remnant," the small group of faithful who did not lose their faith during the exile. This Remnant has the task of bringing the people back to God, that is, of converting them. But this is only the first stage: the rise of Israel becomes the initial sign of the plan of universal salvation. Finally, the prophet insists on the divine origin of this message: it is not the fruit of human invention, but the word of the Lord. In the midst of discouragement, a confession of humble and profound trust resounds: the Servant's strength is not in himself, but in God.

decisive role of the faithful Remnant. +The foundation of everything: strength comes from God alone, not from man.

*Responsorial Psalm (39/40) 

The statement in Psalm 39/40 – "sacrifice  and offering  you do not desire" is surprising, because the psalms were sung in the temple itself, while sacrifices were being offered. In reality, the meaning is clear: what matters to God is not the ritual itself, but the attitude of the heart that it expresses. This is why the psalmist can say: "You have opened my ears"... then I said: "Here I am, I am coming". The whole Bible recounts a long educational journey in understanding sacrifice, which goes hand in hand with the revelation of the true face of God. To sacrifice means "to make sacred", to enter into communion with God; but the way of doing so changes as we understand who God really is. Israel did not invent sacrifice: it was a common practice among the peoples of the Near East. However, from the beginning, biblical faith introduces a decisive difference: human sacrifices are absolutely forbidden. God is the God of life, and cannot ask for death in order to draw closer to Him. Even the story of Abraham and Isaac shows that 'sacrificing' does not mean killing, but offering. Over the centuries, a true conversion of sacrifice took place, concerning first and foremost its meaning. If God is thought of as a being to be appeased or bought, sacrifice becomes a magical gesture. If, on the other hand, God is recognised as the one who loves first and gives freely, then sacrifice becomes a response of love and gratitude, a sign of the Covenant and not a commodity to be exchanged. Biblical pedagogy thus leads from the logic of 'giving in order to receive' to the logic of grace: everything is a gift, and man is called to respond with the 'sacrifice of the lips', that is, with thanksgiving. The substance of sacrifice also changes: the prophets teach that the true sacrifice pleasing to God is to give life, not to give death. As Hosea says (6:6): 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice'. The ultimate ideal is the service of our brothers and sisters, expressed in the Songs of the Servant of Isaiah: a life given so that others may live. Psalm 39/40 summarises this journey: God opens man's ear to enter into a dialogue of love; in the New Covenant, sacrifice becomes totally spiritual: 'Behold, I come'.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (1:1-3)

This text celebrates the dignity of those of us who are baptised. It is chosen for this Sunday, which marks the return to ordinary time in the liturgy: ordinary does not mean trivial, but simply in the order of the year. Every Sunday we celebrate extraordinary events: here St Paul reminds us of the greatness of our title as Christians. According to Paul, we are those who invoke the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, recognising him as God. To say 'Lord' means that Jesus is the centre of our life, of history and of the world. This is why Paul calls us 'holy people': being holy does not mean being perfect, but belonging to God. Baptism consecrates us to Him, and the community deserves to be honoured in the Eucharistic celebration. If Jesus is not truly our Lord, we must question our faith. Paul emphasises the name of Christ several times in his letter, showing that our relationship with Him is the foundation of Christian life. All Christians are 'called': Paul himself did not choose to be an apostle, but was called by God on the road to Damascus. The word Church (ecclesia) means 'called', and every local community is called to reflect God's universal love. The mission is universal, but accessible: God does not ask us for extraordinary gestures, only willingness to do His will, as today's Psalm reminds us: 'Behold, I am coming'. The Eucharistic liturgy echoes Paul's words: in the gesture of peace and in the greeting 'The Lord be with you', we are immersed in the grace and peace of Christ. This text is particularly suitable for the week of prayer for Christian unity: it reminds us of what unites Christians throughout the world, called to be seeds of a new humanity, which one day will be reunited in grace and peace around Jesus Christ. The historical context of this letter: Corinth was a city of great wealth and poverty, a crossroads between the Adriatic and the Aegean, with a mixed population and marked social contrasts. The Christian community founded by Paul reflected these differences. The letter to the Corinthians that we read today is probably the first to have come down to us, written around 55-56 AD, in response to specific questions from the community.

From the Gospel according to John (1:29-34)

John the Baptist solemnly proclaims: "I have seen and testified that this is the Son of God." At that time, the title "Son of God" was synonymous with Messiah: to recognise this in Jesus meant to announce the Messiah awaited by Israel. Every king of Jerusalem received the anointing and the title of Son of God as a sign that the Spirit was guiding him; but unlike previous kings, Jesus is the one on whom the Spirit 'sleeps' permanently, indicating that his entire mission will be led by the Holy Spirit. John the Baptist also describes Jesus as 'the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world'. The figure of the lamb evokes three images: the Paschal Lamb, a sign of liberation; Isaiah's Suffering Servant, innocent and bearing the sins of others; the lamb offered by God, as in Abraham's trial with Isaac. Jesus is therefore the Messiah, the liberator of humanity, but he does not immediately eliminate sin: he offers us the possibility of freeing ourselves from it by living guided by the Spirit, with love, generosity and forgiveness. Salvation is not for one man alone, but for all believers, the 'Body of Christ'. The new humanity begins in Jesus, through his obedience and his full communion with God, offering a model of new life.

*Origen, in his commentary on the Gospel of John, writes: 'Thus John calls Jesus the Lamb of God: "Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." With these words, John declares that Christ, the one who was before him, is the one who takes away the sins of the world.

+Giovanni D'Ercole