The Church has consistently recognised Mary as holy and free from all sin or moral imperfection. The Council of Trent expresses this conviction by stating that no one ‘can avoid, throughout their entire life, every sin, even venial sin, except by virtue of a special privilege, such as the Church holds to be the case with regard to the Blessed Virgin’ (DS 1573). The possibility of sinning does not spare even the Christian who has been transformed and renewed by grace. For grace does not preserve one from every sin throughout one’s life, unless, as the Council of Trent affirms, a special privilege ensures such immunity from sin. This is what happened in the case of Mary.

The Council of Trent did not wish to define this privilege, but it did declare that the Church affirms it with vigour: “Tenet”, that is, it holds it firmly. This is a decision which, far from relegating this truth to the realm of pious beliefs or devotional opinions, confirms its character as sound doctrine, firmly rooted in the faith of the People of God. Moreover, this conviction is founded on the grace bestowed upon Mary by the angel at the time of the Annunciation. By calling her ‘full of grace’, kecharitoméne, the angel recognises in her the woman endowed with permanent perfection and a fullness of holiness, without a shadow of sin or any moral or spiritual imperfection.

Some Church Fathers of the early centuries, not yet having come to the conviction of her perfect holiness, attributed moral imperfections or faults to Mary. Even some recent authors have adopted this position. However, the Gospel passages cited to justify these views do not in any way permit the attribution of a sin, or even merely a moral imperfection, to the Mother of the Redeemer.

Jesus’ reply to his mother, at the age of 12: ‘Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?’ (Lk 2:49), has sometimes been interpreted as a veiled rebuke. A careful reading of the episode, however, makes it clear that Jesus did not reproach his mother and Joseph for looking for him, since they were responsible for looking after him.

Upon finding Jesus after a distressing search, Mary merely asks him the ‘why’ behind his behaviour: ‘Son, why have you treated us like this?’ (Lk 2:48). And Jesus replies with another ‘why’, refraining from any reproach and referring to the mystery of his divine sonship.

Nor can the words spoken at Cana – “What have I to do with you, woman? My hour has not yet come” (Jn 2:4) – be interpreted as a rebuke. Faced with the likely distress that the lack of wine would have caused the bride and groom, Mary turns to Jesus with simplicity, entrusting the problem to him. Jesus, whilst fully aware that as the Messiah he was bound to obey only the Father’s will, grants his Mother’s implicit request. Above all, he responds to the Virgin’s faith and thus begins to perform miracles, revealing his glory.

Some have also interpreted Jesus’ statement in a negative light when, at the start of his public life, Mary and his relatives asked to see him. By recounting Jesus’ reply to those who said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers are standing outside and wish to see you’, the evangelist Luke offers us the key to understanding the account, which must be interpreted in the light of Mary’s inner dispositions, quite different from those of his ‘brothers’ (cf. Jn 7:5). Jesus replied: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the Word of God and put it into practice” (Lk 8:21). In the account of the Annunciation, in fact, Luke showed how Mary was the model of listening to the Word of God and of generous docility. Interpreted from this perspective, the episode offers a great tribute to Mary, who perfectly fulfilled the divine plan in her own life. Jesus’ words, whilst opposing the attempt made by his brothers, extol Mary’s fidelity to God’s will and the greatness of her motherhood, which she lived out not only physically but also spiritually.

In weaving this indirect praise, Jesus employs a particular method: he highlights the nobility of Mary’s conduct in the light of statements of a more general nature, thereby better illustrating the Virgin’s solidarity with and closeness to humanity on the arduous path to holiness.

Finally, the words: ‘Blessed rather are those who hear the Word of God and keep it!’ (Lk 11:28), spoken by Jesus in response to the woman who declared his Mother blessed, far from casting doubt on Mary’s personal perfection, emphasise her faithful fulfilment of the Word of God: this is how the Church has understood them, incorporating this expression into the liturgical celebrations in honour of Mary.

The Gospel text, in fact, suggests that with this statement Jesus wished to reveal, precisely in her intimate union with God and in her perfect adherence to the divine Word, the highest reason for his Mother’s blessedness.

The special privilege granted by God to the ‘All-Holy One’ leads us to marvel at the wonders wrought by grace in her life. It also reminds us that Mary has always belonged entirely to the Lord, and that no imperfection has ever marred the perfect harmony between her and God.

Her earthly journey, therefore, is characterised by the constant and sublime growth of faith, hope and charity. For this reason, Mary is for believers the radiant sign of divine Mercy and the sure guide towards the lofty heights of evangelical perfection and holiness.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 19 June 1996]

Mk 3:20-35 shows us two types of misunderstanding that Jesus had to face: that of the scribes and that of his own brethren.

The first misunderstanding. The scribes were men educated in the Sacred Scriptures and charged with explaining them to the people. Some of them were sent from Jerusalem to Galilee, where Jesus’ reputation was beginning to spread, in order to discredit him in the eyes of the people: to play the role of gossips, to discredit the other, to remove his authority, to do this awful thing. And they were sent to do this. And these scribes arrived with a specific and terrible accusation — they spared no means; they went straight to the point and said: “He is possessed by Beelzebul, and by the prince of demons he casts out the demons” (v. 22). That is, the prince of demons is the one who drives Him, which is more or less tantamount to saying: “He is possessed by demons”. In fact Jesus healed many sick people, and the scribes wanted to make others believe that he did so not with the Spirit of God — as Jesus did — but with that of the Evil One, with the power of the devil. Jesus reacted with firm and clear words; he did not tolerate this, because those scribes, perhaps without realizing it, were falling into the gravest sin: denying and blaspheming against God’s Love which is present and active in Jesus. And blasphemy, the sin against the Holy Spirit, is the one unforgivable sin — as Jesus said — because it comes from closing the heart to God’s mercy which acts in Jesus.

But this episode contains an admonishment which is useful to all of us. Indeed, it can happen that deep envy of a person’s goodness and good works can drive one to falsely accuse him or her. Here there is true, lethal poison: the malice with which, in a premeditated manner, one wants to destroy the good reputation of the other. May God free us from this terrible temptation! And if, by examining our conscience, we realize that this weed is sprouting within us, let us go straight away to confess it in the Sacrament of Penance, before it grows and produces its evil effects, which are incurable. Be careful, because this attitude destroys families, friendships, communities and even society.

Today’s Gospel also speaks to us about another, very different misunderstanding with regard to Jesus: that of his brethren. They were worried, because his new itinerant life seemed folly to them (cf. v. 21). In fact, he exhibited such openness toward the people, especially toward the sick and toward sinners, to the extent that he did not even have time to eat. Jesus was like that: people first; serving people; helping people; teaching people; healing people. He was for the people. He did not even have time to eat. Thus, his brethren decided to take him back home to Nazareth. His brethren came to the place where Jesus was teaching and they sent to him and called him. He was told: “‘Your mother and your brethren are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied: ‘Who are my mother and my brethren?’. And looking around on those who sat about him, he said ‘Here are my mother and my brethren! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother’” (vv. 32-35).

Jesus formed a new family, no longer based on natural ties, but on faith in him, on his love which welcomes us and unites us to each other, in the Holy Spirit. All those who welcome Jesus’ word are children of God and brothers and sisters among themselves. Welcoming the word of Jesus makes us brothers and sisters, makes us Jesus’ family. Speaking ill of others, destroying others’ reputations, makes us the devil’s family.

Jesus’ response was not a lack of respect for his mother and his brethren. Rather, for Mary it is the greatest recognition, precisely because she herself is the perfect disciple who completely obeyed God’s will. May the Virgin Mother help us to live always in communion with Jesus, recognizing the work of the Holy Spirit who acts in him and in the Church, regenerating the world to new life.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 10 June 2018]

Which road leads to the Father?

(Mt 12:38-42)

Human correspondence does not grow with the multiplication of dizzying signals. God does not force the unconvinced, nor outclass with proofs; thus He earns a patrimony of love.

His authentic Church, without clamor or persuasive positions - apparently insignificant - is gathered entirely in intimate unity with her Lord.

The Queen of the South was looking for captivating solutions to enigmatic curiosities, but she could know them inside her soul and life.

Incarnation: there are no other valid signs than the events and new relationships with oneself and others - which offer the very and unheard-of Person of the Risen One, without wrappings.

The Eternal is no longer the pure transcendence of the Jews, nor the summit of the wisdom of the ancient world: the moving Sign of God is the story of Jesus alive in us.

We trust in Christ, so no more spiritual drugs that deceive us about happiness.

It is the meaning of the new Creation: abandonment to the Spirit, but all concrete (not in a manner) and which proceeds by dragging the alternative reality.

He is the Sign unique, who frees from the many substitutes of fears’ religion, of fetters, of consolidated roles that would like to imprison the Lord in an "ally" doer of seductive miracles, immediately resolving.

Some community members seemed to want to frame the Messiah into the pattern of normal sacred and scenic expectations.

They were already getting along with the world, starting to recede, and were proving fed up...

In these "veterans" of Mt there was no sign of conversion to the idea of ​​the Son of God as a Servant, confident in dreams without prestige.

In them? No trace of a new idea - nor change of pace that could mark the end of the blatant, dehumanizing society they were used to.

There are always those who remain tied to an ideology of power. So they do not want to open their eyes except to have their senses captured in a trivial way.

For these, the Lord never reserves impressive confirmations - which would be the paradoxical validation of ancient convictions.

The only «sign» is his living Church and the Risen himself pulsating in all those who take him seriously; eg. in recoveries, healings, and impossible revaluations.

But no shortcut lightning.

Guided by the intimate Friend, we will be a single inventive humanity ‘in the Master’.

Our free and life-giving testimony will nourish an experience of regenerating Faith, singularly incisive.

Far more than miracles, the appeals of our essence and reality will make us recognize the call and action of God in men and in the web of history.

The Father wants his sons to produce far more astonishment and prodigies of divine-human goodness than visions and sentimentality, or magic.

The only «sign» of salvation is Christ in us, without hysterical seams; image and likeness of the new humanity.

For authentic conversion: native power - and nothing external.

[Monday 16th wk. in O.T.  July 20, 2026]

What is the Sign of the Mystery?

(Mt 12:38-42)

Jesus encounters unbelief. It comes from various forms of blindness and prejudice, or (especially in the disciples) arises from inattention.

The Lord distances himself from those who test him and from those who reject what is given by God, demanding to dictate how he should act.

The Son of Man respects every person who follows him, but he makes it clear that decisions and, even more so, a lack of acute perception prevent the Encounter and the redemption of life.

From this perspective, believers do not live to 'prove' anything. Christ himself does not wait for us in subliminal and amazing manifestations, but on the shore of an earthly spirituality.

Value does not need applause (a double-edged sword) - a mask for artificial proposals and inauthentic life.

Humanising correspondence does not grow with the multiplication of dizzying signals.

God does not coerce the unconvinced, nor does he overwhelm with proof; in this way, he gains a heritage of Love in growth.

His authentic Church, without clamour or persuasive positions - apparently insignificant - is gathered in intimate unity with his Firstborn: native, portentous and regenerating power - solid and real.

The queen of the south sought captivating solutions to enigmatic curiosities, but she could find them within her soul and in her life.

Incarnation: there are no other valid signs than events and new relationships - with oneself and with others - which present the very Person and unheard-of nature of the Risen One (the one without wrappings).

The Eternal One is no longer the pure transcendence of the Jews, nor the summit of the wisdom of the ancient world.

The sign of the Most High is the story of Jesus (alive in us). It opens the exciting path that leads to the Father.

Let us trust in Christ, therefore, and reject spiritual drugs that delude us with happiness.

This is the meaning of the new Creation: abandonment to the Spirit - but in a concrete way (not in a mannered way) - which proceeds by drawing along an alternative reality.

His Person is a unique sign that frees us from the many surrogates of the religion of fears, shackles and established roles.

These are those who would like to imprison him as an 'ally' who performs seductive and immediately decisive miracles.

Some would like to see him as a simple purifier of the temple or a character from a fairy tale - and so would we, if we allow ourselves to be manipulated.

In fact, the religious leaders to whom Jesus addresses himself are those returning to his communities!

They were Judaizers who wanted to fit the Messiah into the pattern of normal expectations to which they had always been accustomed.

Or they already understood and were fed up...

In these 'veterans' there was no sign of conversion to the idea of the Son of God as a Servant, trusting in dreams without prestige.

In them? There was no trace of a new idea - nor any change of pace that would mark the decline of the ostentatious, dehumanising - and even sacred - society of the outside world.

Popular leaders sometimes miss the meaning of the only living Sign: Jesus, the Bread of Life.

Because of them, not because of those who are far away, the Lord 'groans in spirit' (cf. Mk 8:12, Greek text) - even today, saddened by so much blindness.

Life is in fact precluded to those who cannot shift their gaze.

Immediately after Mt (16:6), he refers to the danger of the dominant ideology that caused even the leaders to lose their objective perception of events.

A coarse "leaven" but rooted in the painful experience of the people - which stimulated swelling even in the disciples, contaminating them.

To the top of the class, it might have seemed that Jesus was a leader like Moses, because he fed the hungry people in the desert (cf. Mt 14:13-21; 15:32-39).

But the rejection is clear: especially Mark (8:12) brings it to life by emphasising the Master's sense of suffering.

Then, as in Matthew and Luke in the episode of Jonah, there is his radical, peremptory refusal.

To save a people in need of everything, there is no other way than to start from within.

Then proceed towards a fullness of being that spreads, approves us, and, flowing out, allows us to break our lives in favour of our brothers and sisters.

There is no escape. Only communion with the hidden source of one's own eminent Self and respectful and active dialogue with others can save us from a closed group mentality.

In this way, no club is allowed - no club that claims exclusive monopoly over God and souls (Mt 9:38-40) with the explicit claim to discipline the multitudes.

The community of the Risen One abhors the competitive conception of religious life itself, if it is a sacred reflection of the imperial world and of a society that oppresses and embitters the existence of the little ones.

It would be a sick life in search of prestige, even if only apparent.

On the contrary, in fraternal realities, 'whoever humbles himself is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven' (Mt 18:4).Therefore, it is absolutely necessary to avoid a pyramidal mentality and a mentality of rejection creeping into the faithful.

A spirit of competition that inevitably ends up seeking refuge in hypocritical miracle-mongering, a substitute for the life of faith.

The Master does the same to educate members of the Church who remain - perhaps even today - affected by a sense of superiority towards crowds and strangers.

A feeling of being a chosen and privileged people (Lk 9:54-55) that was even infiltrating the early communities.

To those who do not want to open their eyes except to be captivated by phenomena that are yet to be discerned - because despite the official creed they profess, they remain tied to an ideology of power - the Lord never reserves impressive confirmations coming 'from heaven' (Mt 16:1) that would be their paradoxical validation.

The only sign is and will be his living Church: the 'victory' of the Risen One who pulsates in all those who take him seriously.

Without fixed hierarchies - under the infallible guidance of the Call and the Word - the children know how to reinterpret, even in new ways.

Such is the miracle, embodied in a thousand events (in history, in personal and community life); in recoveries, healings and impossible re-evaluations.

The authentic Messiah does not offer any cosmic display.

There are no festivals that force spectators to bow their heads in the presence of such overwhelming glory and condescension, as if he were a heavenly dictator.

And no lightning bolts as a shortcut.

Over the centuries, churches have often fallen into this 'apologetic' temptation, which is entirely internal to devotions with a dry impulse: seeking marvellous signs and trumpeting them to silence opponents.

These are stratagems for a banal attempt to silence those who ask not for parapsychological experiences, but for testimonies that are not withered and without tricks or gimmicks: for concrete disalienation.

Not bad, this activity of ours to liberate the least among us, which is holding its own, unclutched by the idea of a demagogue with triumphalist or consolatory airs.

We prefer the wave of Mystery.

We yearn to be guided by an unknown energy that has a non-artificial goal in store for us - led by the eminent but intimate and hidden Friend (exclusive to us).

We will be one humanity in the Master, on the right path that belongs to us. Even if we walk along interrupted and incomplete paths, even paths of confusion.

Commenting on the Tao Te Ching (i), Master Ho-shang Kung writes: 'The eternal Name wants to be like the infant who has not yet spoken, like the chick that has not yet hatched. The luminous pearl lies within the oyster, the beautiful gem lies in the middle of the rock: however much it shines within, on the outside it is foolish and insipid'.

All this may be considered "unconsciousness" and "inconclusiveness"... but it brings out what we are - expressing another way of seeing the world.

In ourselves and within the Call of the Gospels, we have a fresh power that approves of a path that is different from the immediately normal and the conspicuous.

An Appeal that is enchanting, delightful and splendid, because it activates us by challenging us.

A word that does not think according to patterns. A heartfelt plea that is not impressed by exceptional things, by performances that suffocate the soul in search of meaning and authenticity.

Genuine wonder, an indomitable impulse nestled in the dimension of human fullness, which does not give up: it wants to express itself in its transparency and become reality.

A sort of intimate Infante: he moves in a way that is considered 'abstruse', but he puts things right, inside and out.

His free and invigorating testimony, attentive and always personally brilliant, will be innate and unprecedented, biting, inventive without artifice, unpredictable and completely non-conformist.

It will give rise to and incessantly nourish an experience of Faith that is convinced, singular and incisive - even though it may appear losing and unsuccessful, dishonourable and unspectacular.

Much more than miracles, the supplications of our essence and reality will make us recognise God's call and action in human beings and in the fabric of history.

These invitations can give rise to other astonishing wonders of divine-human goodness, rather than paroxysmal visions tinged with neurosis and empty sentimentality or magic.

The only sign of salvation is Christ in us - without seams or great hysterical gestures.

He is the image and likeness of the new humanity; the manifestation of God's power on earth.

For authentic conversion: nothing external.

To internalise and live the message:

What kind of evidence are you looking for?

How does your Sign (which makes people believe) differ from gimmicks, acts of force, or what others would like you to spread?

2) Il libro di Giona ci annuncia l’avvenimento di Gesù Cristo – Giona è una prefigurazione della venuta di Gesù. Il Signore stesso ci dice questo nel Vangelo del tutto chiaramente. 

Richiesto dai giudei di dar loro un segno che lo riveli apertamente come il Messia, risponde, secondo Matteo: "Nessun segno sarà dato a questa generazione se non il segno di Giona profeta. Come infatti Giona rimase tre giorni e tre notti nel ventre del pesce, così il Figlio dell’uomo resterà tre giorni e tre notti nel cuore della terra" (Mt12,39s). 

La versione di Luca delle parole di Gesù è più semplice: "Questa generazione [...] cerca un segno ma non le sarà dato nessun segno fuorché il segno di Giona. Poiché come Giona fu un segno per quelli di Ninive, così anche il Figlio dell’uomo lo sarà per questa generazione" (Lc 11,29s). Vediamo due elementi in entrambi i testi: lo stesso Figlio dell’uomo, Cristo, l’inviato di Dio, è il segno. Il mistero pasquale indica Gesù come il Figlio dell’uomo, egli è il segno in e attraverso il mistero pasquale.

Nel racconto veterotestamentario proprio questo mistero di Gesù traspare del tutto chiaramente. 

Nel primo capitolo del libro di Giona si parla di una triplice discesa del profeta: egli scende al porto di Giaffa; scende nella nave; e nella nave egli si mette nel luogo più riposto. Nel suo caso, però, questa triplice discesa è una tentata fuga davanti a Dio. Gesù è colui che scende per amore, non per fuggire, ma per giungere nella Ninive del mondo: scende dalla sua divinità nella povertà della carne, dell’essere creatura con tutte le sue miserie e sofferenze; scende nella semplicità del figlio del carpentiere, e scende nella notte della croce, infine persino nella notte dello Sheòl, il mondo dei morti. Così facendo egli ci precede sulla strada della discesa, lontano dalla nostra falsa gloria da re; la via della penitenza, che è via verso la nostra stessa verità: via della conversione, via che ci allontana dall’orgoglio di Adamo, dal volere essere Dio, verso l’umiltà di Gesù che è Dio e per noi si spoglia della sua gloria (Fil 2,1-10). Come Giona, Gesú dorme nella barca mentre la tempesta infuria. In un certo senso nell’esperienza della croce egli si lascia gettare in mare e così placa la tempesta. I rabbini hanno interpretato la parola di Giona "Gettatemi in mare" come offerta di sé del profeta che voleva con questo salvare Israele: egli aveva timore davanti alla conversione dei pagani e al rifiuto della fede da parte di Israele, e per questo – così dicono – voleva farsi gettare in mare. Il profeta salva in quanto egli si mette al posto degli altri. Il sacrificio salva. Questa esegesi rabbinica è diventata verità in Gesù.

[Papa Benedetto card. Ratzinger, Lectio in s. Maria in Traspontina, 24 gennaio 2003; in “30Giorni” febbraio 2003]

4. In fact, Jesus invites us to discern the words and deeds that bear witness to the imminent coming of the Father's Kingdom. Indeed, He directs and concentrates all signs in the enigmatic "sign of Jonah." In doing so, He overturns the worldly logic that seeks signs confirming man's desire for self-affirmation and power. As the Apostle Paul emphasises, "while the Jews demand miracles and the Greeks seek wisdom, we preach Christ crucified, a scandal to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles" (1 Cor 1:22-23).

As the firstborn among many brothers (cf. Rom 8:29), Christ was the first to overcome in himself the diabolical "temptation" to use worldly means to bring about the coming of the Kingdom of God. This happened from the moment of the messianic trials in the desert to the sarcastic challenge addressed to him while he was nailed to the cross: "If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!" (Mt 27:40). In Jesus crucified, there is a transformation and concentration of signs: he himself is the "sign of God," especially in the mystery of his death and resurrection. To discern the signs of his presence in history, we must free ourselves from all worldly pretensions and welcome the Spirit who "searches everything, even the depths of God" (1 Cor 2:10).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 23 September 1998]

Here is the Jonah syndrome, which "affects those who are not zealous for the conversion of people, who seek a holiness — if I may use the word — a holiness of the dry cleaners, that is, all beautiful, all well done, but without the zeal that leads us to preach the Lord." The Pope recalled that the Lord "before this generation, sick with the Jonah syndrome, promises the sign of Jonah." He added: 'In the other version, that of Matthew, it says: but Jonah was in the whale three nights and three days... The reference is to Jesus in the tomb, to his death and resurrection. And this is the sign that Jesus promises: against hypocrisy, against this attitude of perfect religiosity, against this attitude of a group of Pharisees'.

To clarify the concept, the Bishop of Rome referred to another parable from the Gospel "that well represents what Jesus wants to say. It is the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the temple (Luke 14:10-14). The Pharisee is so sure of himself before the altar that he says: 'I thank you, God, that I am not like all these people of Nineveh, nor even like that man over there! And the man over there was the tax collector, who said only: 'Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner'.

The sign that Jesus promises, Pope Francis explained, is his forgiveness through his death and resurrection. The sign that Jesus promises is his mercy, which God had been asking for a long time: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice'. Therefore, 'the true sign of Jonah is that which gives us the confidence that we will be saved by the blood of Christ. There are many Christians who think they are saved only because of what they do, because of their works. Works are necessary, but they are a consequence, a response to that merciful love that saves us." Works alone, without this merciful love, are not enough.

Therefore, "the Jonah syndrome affects those who trust only in their personal righteousness, in their works." And when Jesus says "this evil generation," he is referring to "all those who have the Jonah syndrome within themselves." But there is more: "The Jonah syndrome," said the Pope, "leads us to hypocrisy, to that self-sufficiency that we believe we achieve because we are clean, perfect Christians, because we do these works, we observe the commandments, everything. A great disease, the Jonah syndrome!" Whereas "the sign of Jonah" is "the mercy of God in Jesus Christ, who died and rose for us, for our salvation."

"There are two words in the first reading," he added, "that connect with this. Paul says of himself that he is an apostle, not because he studied, but because he was called. And he says to Christians: you are called by Jesus Christ. The sign of Jonah calls us." Today's liturgy, the Pope concluded, helps us to understand and make a choice: "Do we want to follow the syndrome of Jonah or the sign of Jonah?"

[Pope Francis, St. Martha's, in L'Osservatore Romano, 15 October 2013]

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

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

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

Responsorial Psalm (85/86)  

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

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

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

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

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

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

+Giovanni D’Ercole

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [12 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (55:10–11)

The central theme of this passage is the image of rain: the Word of God is life-giving rain; it does not return until it has fulfilled its mission of forgiveness and reconciliation. This oracle concludes the Second Isaiah (Isaiah 40–55) As prophets often do, Isaiah uses an image: rain and snow are daydreams for an Eastern farmer accustomed to often arid soil. In Babylon, where he is in exile with his people in the 6th century BC, the benefits of rain are experienced. A sun-drenched land, such as Israel or Babylon, flourishes anew at the first rain. The prophet applies this effectiveness to the Word of God: ‘So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth: it shall not return to me empty.’ Isaiah emphasises this effectiveness for two reasons. 1) He announces the end of the Exile and the return to Jerusalem. For 50 years, the inhabitants of Jerusalem have been in exile in Babylon. Isaiah promises, on God’s behalf, their liberation and their departure from Babylon. To believe in a promise long awaited requires trust in the Word of God. This is why Isaiah is so firm: ‘my word… shall not return to me empty…’. Statements about the effectiveness of the Word (‘Davar’ means both ‘word’ and ‘event’) are always made during difficult times in Israel’s history, when it is necessary to cling to faith.  Examples: ‘All flesh is like grass… dry grass; the flower withers, but the word of our God stands for ever’ (Isa 40:6–8); ‘I am watching over my word to bring it to pass’ (Jer 1:12). These words were spoken to combat idolatry, for during the exile the temptation was strong amongst the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who, in the face of defeat, thought it better to turn to the gods of the victorious Babylonians, since they were effective. There is a sarcastic passage by the prophet Isaiah: poor people who use the same wood to make a fire and to carve idols; then they expect help from those lifeless idols they have made themselves (cf. Isa 44).  2) The other reason for emphasising the power of the word is that the ‘mission’ of the Word is forgiveness and reconciliation. Immediately before this text, he notes: ‘Seek the Lord whilst he may be found; call upon him whilst he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, who will have mercy on him, and to our God, who abundantly forgives. For my thoughts are not your thoughts…’ (Isaiah 55:6–8).  The ‘mission’ referred to here is therefore a mission to proclaim God’s free forgiveness and the reconciliation of humanity with Him: God will ultimately reconcile humanity to Himself. Later, Paul will say the same: ‘God our Saviour desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth’ (1 Tim 2:4). This plan of God is fulfilled through the Incarnation of the Word and the sending of the disciples as ambassadors of reconciliation: “God has reconciled us to himself through Christ and has entrusted to us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:18). 

Responsorial Psalm (64/65)

Psalm 64 is a votive offering from a people written upon their return from exile to thank God for their deliverance: on the surface, it is a song of renewed creation, but it is not merely a song about nature. The liturgy presents us only with the final verses (10–14), which appear to be a contemplation of nature, but the preceding verses are fundamental, and without them the true meaning of the psalm is lost. This is a vow of thanksgiving for the return from exile, made in Babylon in the 6th century BC: if God frees us and brings us back to Israel, we shall celebrate in his temple. Deliverance is experienced as forgiveness because the exile was regarded as a punishment for the sins of the people and their leaders, and the return is a ‘return to favour’: God wipes the sinful past clean.  ‘Our sins have overwhelmed us; you forgive them’. It is clear that Israel’s election becomes a mission, and the people celebrate God’s faithfulness: “Blessed are those whom you have chosen and brought near: they shall dwell in your courts.” Just as the Levites had a special place to serve God in the temple, so Israel has a special place amongst the nations: when the other nations see Israel’s salvation, they will recognise that the God of Israel is the only Saviour. With the return to the homeland, a new life begins; it is a true re-creation. For this reason, the final bucolic section should not be separated from the central theme, which is thanksgiving. Lush nature is an image of new life and of God’s greatest gift: forgiveness

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Romans (8:18–23)

Creation is not complete; it is a work in progress and eagerly awaits the revelation of the children of God. This means that creation is not an event of the past: it is an ongoing project, comparable to a work of art.  Let us imagine the creation of an immense bronze sculpture. From the very first day, the artist knows that it will require patience and time: the process involves many successive stages.  There are hardships, struggles and risks to face; one must have a clear understanding of where this sometimes thankless work is leading and assess every possible difficulty. Only the artist can already visualise the finished work in his mind, but the challenge lies in how to describe the glimpsed beauty to his collaborators, and to share it with them with the same passion. God’s project is comparable to the birth of a work of art: Paul speaks specifically of ‘childbirth’. Only God, for now, can describe the finished work. And who has the mission to complete it? We do, each in our own small way, but above all the Spirit who breathes upon the world to direct it towards God. ‘We have received the firstfruits of the Spirit, but we await adoption as children, the redemption of our body’. In the biblical sense, ‘body’ refers to our whole being. Redemption of the body: our whole being, still in chains today, bound by sin, will finally be set free and free to live as children of God. We speak of the ‘firstfruits’, which biblically refer to the first handful of ears of corn or the firstborn lamb of the flock in spring. They were both the beginning and the promise of the entire harvest. A beautiful image to convey that we already possess the down payment of our ultimate salvation: “the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5). And it is because we already possess the firstfruits, because we are already animated by the Spirit, that we groan as we await our final transformation. Yet it is always the Spirit who continues the work in the world.  In the Fourth Eucharistic Prayer we say: “ He – your Son – has sent from you, Father, as a first gift to believers, the Holy Spirit who continues his work in the world and brings every sanctification to fulfilment”. “Every sanctification” – that is, every transformation.  For now, creation is still “subject to futility”, but in the new heavens and new earth that we await, towards which we strive, this energy will become a passion for unity: ‘According to his promise, we await new heavens and a new earth, in which righteousness dwells’ (2 Pet 3:13). Then creation will be ‘set free from the bondage of corruption to enter into the freedom of the glory of the children of God’.  Paul speaks of the whole of creation and the cosmos, not just of us. He takes up a theme familiar to the Bible: the disharmony caused by Adam’s wrong choice plunges the entire garden—that is, the whole of creation—into chaos: “The ground shall be cursed because of you” (Gen 3:17).  Conversely, when righteousness dwells on the earth, not only humans but also animals will know peace. Humanity is part of the cosmos and cannot be conceived of without it. This is one of the meanings of Isaiah’s magnificent ‘parable’ of the animals: ‘The wolf shall dwell with the lamb… the lion shall feed on straw like the ox… They shall do no harm or destroy any more on all my holy mountain, for the knowledge of the Lord shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea’ (Isaiah 11:6–9). As Paul says in Ephesians: it is ‘the whole universe, the things in heaven and on earth’ that will one day be brought together under one Head, Christ (Ephesians 1:9–10). It is our privilege to be able to catch a glimpse of the completed work even now. Returning to the analogy of the work of art: we who are engaged in God’s plan have an immense privilege compared to an artist’s collaborators: we can already glimpse the completed work: “The Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us; and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (Jn 1:14).  Meanwhile, this great labour of bringing forth the new humanity continues amidst pain and groaning. All the more reason for believers to find the courage to proclaim, even now, the glory promised to all creation.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:1–23)

Jesus speaks in parables because the ‘parable’ is a literary genre of the Jewish tradition, similar to a narrative with a pedagogical purpose, designed to lead the listener to change their perspective. A parable is not an allegory: not every detail has a precise meaning; the lesson comes from the overall context.  

  The disciples ask why Jesus speaks in parables, and Jesus gives three reasons: firstly, to distinguish between the disciples and the crowd: ‘To you it has been given to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven, but to them it has not been given.’ Secondly, to console them, because their opponents ‘look without seeing, listen without hearing or understanding’. Jesus quotes a passage from Isaiah to them: “This people’s heart has grown callous; their ears are hard of hearing, and they have closed their eyes…” (Isaiah 6:9–10). Thirdly, to recall the Old Testament theme of the two paths: “To those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have not, even what they have will be taken away.” In Matthew and Mark, this teaching in parables immediately follows the disputes with the Pharisees and with those who refuse to recognise Jesus as the Messiah, revealing their hardened hearts and their imperviousness to the Word. Indeed, the more the listeners shut themselves away in their certainties, the more impervious they become to the Word. The parables are a pedagogical means of touching those hardened hearts. However, the disposition of the heart is decisive in understanding Jesus. I shall now return to these words: ‘To those who have, more will be given’ – which is the theme of the two paths already present in the Old Testament and which always presents human existence as a crossroads. If you take the right path, every step brings you closer to your goal: ‘Give to the wise, and he will become wiser still; instruct the righteous, and he will increase his knowledge’ (Prov 9:9). If, on the other hand, you choose the wrong path, every step takes you further away. A clear choice is therefore required: either to listen, to open your ears to be taught and transformed by the Word; or to refuse to listen and become increasingly hard of hearing. In the parable of the sower, Jesus shows what the obstacles to preaching are.  Jesus is the Word of God made flesh (Jn 1:14); and he communicates only the Father’s Word: “The word that you hear is not mine, but the Father’s who sent me” (Jn 14:24). Yet he finds it difficult to find fertile ground.  What are the difficulties involved in listening to the Word? First of all, the cares of the world which choke out the demands of the Kingdom (Mt 6:25–34). A deeper difficulty is not trusting Jesus and recognising him as the Messiah. The disciples themselves stumbled: after the discourse on the bread of life, many said, ‘This teaching is hard! Who can accept it?’ From that moment on, many of the disciples turned back, and Jesus said to the Twelve, ‘Do you also wish to go away?’ Peter replied, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life’ (John 6:60–68). Despite the difficulties, Jesus proclaims that the harvest—‘a hundredfold, sixtyfold or thirtyfold’—is certain, though it comes at a high price. The Kingdom of God will be established through many failures. To enter into the understanding of the Kingdom is solely a gift from God: ‘It has been granted to you to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven… Blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear…’ Those who have received the seed in good soil are those who hear the Word and understand it with a receptive heart, capable of receiving from God the light that comes only from Him. This openness, too, is a gift. The Pharisees and the crowd were not yet ready. Jesus had Ezekiel in mind when he said, ‘Those who received the seed among the thorns are those who hear the Word, but the cares of the world and the allure of wealth choke the Word.’ Ezekiel writes: “They come to you as a people gather; they listen to your words, but do not put them into practice; their mouths are full of lusts, their hearts are set on gain. To them you are like a love song, with a sweet voice, well played” (Ezek 33:30–32).  

+ Giovanni D’Ercole