24th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [13 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Sirach (27:30–28:7)

In the teachings of the wise Ben Sira, who lived around 180 BC, shortly before the birth of Jesus, one can sense the gradual discovery of forgiveness in the Old Testament. Indeed, the Bible can be seen as God’s patient endeavour, through the prophets, to root out vengeance from our hearts. Cain was avenged seven times, and after him the spiral of violence had become so widespread that Lamech boasted of taking vengeance seventy times seven. It took a patient effort, through the laws and the preaching of the prophets, to reverse this trend. Ben Sira stands at the end of this chain of vengeance and highlights Israel’s realisation of how to bring it to an end. In today’s text, Ben Sira draws on three useful considerations to preach forgiveness.  First of all, we must not forget God’s constant faithfulness towards his people, who have, on the other hand, often been unfaithful to him. Furthermore, if you wish to observe God’s commandments, you cannot harbour a grudge against your neighbour, for the commandment to love your neighbour as yourself implies the ability to forgive. And finally, if we were to reflect on our own death, we would readily renounce all forms of hatred and vengeance. Ben Sira says: ‘This is why the Lord is patient with them and pours out his mercy upon them; he sees and knows that their lot is a painful one, for he abounds in forgiveness. Human mercy concerns one’s neighbour, whilst the Lord’s mercy concerns every living being (Sir 18:11–13). The wise man urges us to move beyond offences.  Moreover, in the phrase ‘the man who takes revenge will experience God’s vengeance’, there is a concrete truth that touches us deeply. It is these small steps in the spirit of mercy that prepare us to receive God’s mercy; and indeed, how can we imagine that God would be merciful towards us if we refuse even the smallest gesture of forgiveness towards others?  Finally, the last verse: ‘Remember the commandments and do not hate your neighbour’ leads us to reflect on the words of Jesus on the cross: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’. It makes us realise that sometimes we do wrong without considering all the consequences, and divine forgiveness even goes so far as to suggest that we do wrong out of ignorance. The Ecumenical Translation of the Bible offers this rendering of the verse (28:7): ‘Remember God’s covenant and look beyond the offence’ – a beautiful definition of forgiveness. Of course, one cannot erase an offence, but one must know how to move beyond it. After a wound, the skin retains a scar, and it is the same for emotional wounds, for nothing can erase slander, a gesture of contempt or infidelity. Words and behaviour bear poisonous fruit, and one cannot simply turn back as if nothing had happened. As Ben Sira says, moving beyond does not mean ignoring the past, but trying to mend a relationship torn apart by an offence, whilst accepting the possibility of a new future. The word ‘forgiveness’ – ‘for’ and ‘gift’ – tells us that forgiveness which goes beyond the offence is possible, and that perfect forgiveness is, ultimately, the work of the Holy Spirit. 

Responsorial Psalm (102/103)

Psalm 102/103 contains 22 verses, as many as there are letters in the Hebrew alphabet. For this reason, it is called an alphabetic psalm and belongs to the tradition of psalms of thanksgiving for the Covenant. It is a great hymn of gratitude to God for all his gifts and blessings. Another feature of the psalm is its parallelism: each verse consists of two phrases that echo and complement one another, almost like a dialogue between two choirs. This style of expression is very common in the Bible and served both to aid memorisation and to deepen the meaning of the words. In the first verse, ‘Bless the Lord, O my soul; bless his holy Name, O my whole being’, the parallelism helps us to understand two important things. Firstly, in the Bible, the Name refers to the person himself: to bless the Name of the Lord therefore means to bless God in his entirety. Secondly, the word ‘soul’ does not simply refer to a spiritual part of a person as opposed to the body. In the biblical mindset, a person is seen as a unified being: ‘soul’ therefore means the whole person, one’s entire being. The psalm then emphasises God’s mercy: ‘He does not hold a grudge for ever, nor does he harbour his anger for ever. He does not treat us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities’. God does not follow the logic of ‘quid pro quo’, nor that of punishment proportionate to the offence. His logic is one of gratuitousness and mercy. The Bible shows how Israel gradually discovered the true face of God: not a God who keeps a record of our sins, but a God who is ‘gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love’ (Ex 34:6). This is the great biblical revelation: God is completely different from our human notions of justice and judgement. For this reason, even the expression ‘fear of God’ must be understood correctly. It does not mean being afraid of God. When we discover that God is a merciful Father, full of tenderness, fear can be transformed into a filial attitude. The fear of God, in the biblical sense, is therefore a profound respect combined with trust, gratitude and the desire to follow his will. It is like a child who listens to his father when he tells him not to go near the fire: he obeys not because he is afraid of his father, but because he knows that his father loves him and wants to protect him. The Psalm itself expresses this with a beautiful image: ‘As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.’ The spiritual journey therefore consists in transforming fear into trust, to the point of living before God as beloved children. God does not ask us for flawless perfection: when we fall, his mercy allows us to start again. His tenderness ‘passes over’ our sins and lifts us up again. It is the same tenderness that Jesus will show in the parable of the Merciful Father and the Prodigal Son. In summary: Psalm 102/103 invites us to bless God with our whole being and to recognise that his love is far greater than our faults. True ‘fear of God’ is not terror, but trust, respect and filial love. With God, we can always start afresh, because his mercy never fails.

A reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (14:7–9)

The central phrase of the text is ‘We belong to the Lord. None of us lives for ourselves, and none of us dies for ourselves’ (Rom 14:7). Saint Paul reminds us that we are not isolated individuals, independent of one another. Across time and space, we are deeply united. God’s plan is for humanity to be so united as to become one in Christ, a unity founded on the death and resurrection of Jesus, who has become ‘Lord of the dead and the living’. The problem is that divisions can arise even amongst Christians. In Paul’s time, the disputes centred mainly on dietary rules: some Christians, coming from a Jewish background, were very strict; others, coming from the pagan world, were more relaxed. Paul urges everyone not to judge one another: ‘Who are you to judge another’s servant?’ (Romans 14:4). The essential thing is not that we all have the same customs in living out our faith. What matters is that we all belong to Christ. Even today, divisions can arise from liturgical issues or from differing social and political views, because those who share the same faith and the same Baptism may make different choices. For Paul, no one should feel entitled to judge another: rather, each person should sincerely seek to serve the Lord according to their own conscience: ‘Whoever eats, eats for the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever does not eat, does so for the Lord and gives thanks to God.’ This means that there is no single way to give thanks to God, and the same faith can be expressed in different ways. The true ‘spiritual sacrifice’ consists in offering one’s whole self to God, with sincerity and love, each person doing so according to what they consider right, in different and even opposing ways; but what matters is the sincere desire to serve God. Paul points out what must remain at the heart of the Christian life: ‘The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (Romans 14:17). We must seek what builds up the community, fosters peace and strengthens relationships; and the fundamental rule is mutual love: ‘Hold one another in high esteem’. This is the central message: Baptism makes us all belong to Christ, and for this reason our differences — in religious practices, sensibilities, and social or political choices — must not become a cause for judgement and division. What unites us is far more important than what divides us, and Christian maturity consists in respecting those who live their faith differently from us, refraining from judging them, knowing that we are all called to build peace, unity, respect and love, since ‘none of us lives for ourselves’: indeed, we all belong to the Lord.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (18:21–35)

The Gospel presents the parable of the unforgiving servant in three stages. 1. The king forgives the debt: a parable about God’s gratuitous love, which surpasses all our calculations. A servant had incurred an enormous debt to the king, one that was impossible to repay; according to the laws of the time, he and his family should have been imprisoned. The man, however, begged the king for patience and, moved to compassion, the king not only granted him more time but also forgave the debt entirely: ‘You owe me nothing more’. 2. The servant who cannot forgive. The same servant, as soon as he left, met a man who owed him a very small sum compared to what had been forgiven him; yet, instead of showing mercy, he immediately demanded payment and had him thrown into prison. He had received an immense gift, but was incapable of granting others even a small fraction of what he had received. For this reason, the king rebukes him: ‘Shouldn’t you too have shown mercy to your fellow servant, just as I showed mercy to you?’ 3. Forgiving without keeping score. Peter asks Jesus: ‘Lord, how many times must I forgive my brother? Up to seven times?’ Jesus replies: ‘Not seven times, but seventy times seven’, that is, without limit. Forgiveness must not become a matter of keeping score: we must not count how many times we have already forgiven or determine the limits of our obligation to do so. Jesus overturns the logic of the story of Cain and Lamech, where vengeance begets further vengeance and violence multiplies without end. Jesus sets Lamech’s boundless vengeance against boundless forgiveness; and so, in the Bible, God progressively leads humanity out of the spiral of violence: from the law of retaliation (an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth), which at least limits vengeance, we arrive at the discovery of forgiveness—a revelation that reaches its full fulfilment in the sacrifice of the Cross. But why does the servant in the parable forfeit the benefit of what he had received? Not because God ceases to give, but because our hearts can become incapable of receiving and passing on what they receive. It is like soil that has become dry and impermeable, where even a heavy downpour cannot penetrate it because it must first be tilled. In the same way, learning to forgive opens our hearts and makes us ready to receive once more what God offers us. A heart closed off by resentment becomes incapable of allowing itself to be transformed. The servant should have been so deeply grateful for the debt that had been forgiven him that he would not have refused his fellow servant’s request. The central point of the parable is that those who recognise what they have received become capable of giving it on in turn. We see this too in the episode of the woman caught in adultery (John 8). The accusers arrive with stones in their hands, ready to stone her; Jesus invites them first to look within themselves, and one by one they leave, starting with the elders, no longer feeling authorised to judge the adulteress because they are aware of their own frailty. The scene thus completes the message of this Sunday’s parable: before condemning another, remember that you too live thanks to God’s patience and goodness. A Christian is not someone who never makes mistakes, but someone who, having experienced the possibility of a fresh start, offers that same opportunity to others. We are truly converted when what we receive from God transforms the way we treat others.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Going up and down, to go further or back

(Jn 3:13-17)

One of st Francis' first companions - friar Egidio - said: «The way to go up is to go down». We ask ourselves: what is the meaning of this paradox?

Today’s feast has the title of Exaltation. The Gospel speaks instead of «Elevation».

Of course, synonymous with being seen and noticed, but under a «contrary species». So, how to elevate life by staring at Jesus crucified?

Nicodemus’ passage suggests an answer.

The doctor of the Law, a Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin is «in the night»because he is disinducated to the normal idea of a ‘successful’ man, according to the attributes of possession, power and glory.

However, the moment comes when even the costume is shaken by doubt, by the alternative of Christ.

The Cross no longer takes anything for granted. It is a new Judgment, from which other possibilities emerge, precisely in the ons of unregulated vacillations.

Misadventures, upheavals, the adversities of life, the context of chaos... bring out a better relationship with actions and our destiny.

Uncertainty guide us closer to our essence - it invokes resources, pure air, relationships.

In short, scaffold situations can get creative.

Compromising «reputation» reshapes our soul, our point of view; it calls into question the idea we made of ourselves.

It opens up stunning new paths, sudden - otherwise suffocated achievements at the start.

Of course, for those who choose to be themselves, the fate of persecution, misunderstanding, mockery and slander, lack of credit and laurels, is marked - as if we were failures.

But in the Judgment of the Crucified One, this is the «right position» to become ‘sons’ who find human completeness, and give birth to corresponding fruits: often the best time in their story.

The Cross is a free Gift, for a Life as Saved persons. The Cross redeems from the attractions that extinguish our growth.

The Cross is the best opportunity for development.

In fact, realization and completion emerge from sides of ourselves [and situations] that we do not want. Even from deep wounds, which invest a whole way of being, doing and appearing.

‘Trial’ is not the end of the world. It annihilates our powerful appearance, yet it lets out the virtue of the fragile side, first overshadowed for social catwalk needs.

Here is the Crucified One, who bleeds not only to heal, soften and remove ballasts, but to overthrow, replace horizons and supplant the entire system of addicted conformisms. And even (self-styled) alternative aspects, ways of thinking that seemed like who knows what.

Thus the embraced Cross saves us.

It seems like a sabotage to our "infallible" side, instead it is the Antidote to the city dormant on the same paths as before - in the usual ways of being and taking the field [now without a future].

Raising the Cross goes far beyond resilience capacity.

[Exaltation of the Holy Cross,  September 14]

To go up and to go down, to go further or to go backwards

(Jn 3:13-17)

Nothing doing, despite two millennia of Christian symbols, formulas and rituals, especially in Italy we remain at the usual pole: Guelphs versus Ghibellines; even as a shaky destiny looms.

Why such a folded-up faith, incapable of freeing us from occasional stings? Why is it that - even when we are on our way to a mountain of debt - we continue to behave like those who do not stop pawing each other?

We need a good Conversion, with the inverted pyramids of 'supremacy' and glory: arrogant, aggressive, intransigent and haughty becoming humble, meek, benevolent and weak.

Never need? Have great need! All the more reason to cling to the Crucifix.

After all, one of Francis' first companions - Brother Aegidius - used to say: "The way to go up is to go down". We ask ourselves: what is the meaning of such a paradox?

Today's feast has the title of Exaltation (or Invention - derived from the Latin: finding). The Gospel, on the other hand, speaks of "Elevation".

Of course, synonymous with being seen and noticed, but under an 'opposite species'. So, how can one elevate one's life by staring at the crucified Jesus? The Nicodemus passage suggests an answer.

The doctor of the Law, Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin is "in the night" because he is uneducated to the normal idea of a successful man: if God is "somebody", the follower too... must resemble him in the attributes of possession, power and glory.

However, there comes a time when even popular or theological custom and the antiquated way of seeing things is shaken by doubt, by the alternative of Christ.

Is the person who evolves really the one who imposes himself? Is the successful man really the one who rises above others - treated as a stool - or is he not the one who has the freedom to come down and let us breathe?

Everything with spontaneity and fluidity, not effort: imposing climbs of renunciation and pain is not therapeutic and does not extract the best from us. On the contrary, it separates us from that plasticity and simplicity that produce the best things in the world.

The Cross is not a discipline of standard purifications, such as wanting to change one's life, sorting out relationships by suffocating the inconsistencies that belong to us, setting oneself up to hit targets and succeed (even spiritually) at all costs...

These are the usual clichéd improvement programmes that often do not make us natural, but full of artifice - and do not allow us to be open with ourselves, and therefore not even with others.

In Christ, the Cross opens up unbroken horizons, because it no longer takes anything for granted. It is a new Judgement, global and of merit.

Other possibilities emerge, which make us encounter the change that solves the real problems - precisely in the midst of unbridled vacillation.

When lived in Faith, the wavering mixture is a profoundly energetic, malleable and evolutionary reality.

It brings us into a situation of chaos, disorder in which, however, a better relationship with actions and our destiny emerges, even recovering all that we thought unattainable.

This happens in the indeterminacy that brings us closer to our essence - in the days when events become serious, and we call for resources, fresh air, more solid relationships.

We then need to take a leap, not retreat [to stand there and retreat (self-centred) in order to identify problems and faults, then hastily and unnaturally correct them].

It would be an absurd waste of virtues and opportunities for growth in the search for our territory.

Even on the spiritual path, in fact, we do everything to achieve complete life, total fulfilment, strong freedom. Not to be seen to be perfect.

The passage into the climate of social contempt will be inevitable.

The Crucified One does not say 'how we should be and yet are not' (in a conventional way): for we only approach our Vocation if we surprise ourselves and others - just when common, conformist opinion judges us inconsistent.

It does not mean that we are rejecting the gallows.

Convicting situations can become creative, so the gallows that belongs to us in that situation - although it compromises reputation - need not torment the soul beyond measure.

Mishaps, upheavals, contrarieties, bitter contexts... they reshape the soul and the point of view, questioning the idea (that we have already made) of ourselves.

Indeed, they open up astounding new paths - realisations otherwise stifled at the start, due to external convictions.

This is why there is something paradoxical and absurd in Jesus' proposal: to grow, reach fullness and complete oneself, one must lose; not be an opportunist, not be quick-witted, not take advantage. All insulting and puerile attitudes that do not regenerate, that bring us back to friction, to unreliable conformisms, and accentuate them.The logic of the Cross is puzzling: on the spur of the moment it seems to humiliate us. Conversely, it shields us from the poison of a vain religiosity, of fine manners and bad habits.

Empty, consolatory or merely theatrical spirituality, which produces conflictual but inert environments [they make the arms fall off: useless and haunting].

Everyone knows that one must learn to accept the inevitable contrarieties of existence. But this is not the meaning of the Cross.

God does not redeem through pain, but with Love - that which does not fold and crumple, but expands life and unexpressed capacities.

The providential Cross is not given by God, but actively taken up and accepted by the disciple. In the Gospels it signifies the acceptance of the inevitable shame involved in following Jesus - even in a comically vain, albeit papier-mache scenario.

For those who choose to be themselves in the world of 'seeming' and name-calling, the (outward) fate of persecution, misunderstanding, mockery and slander, lack of credit and laurels - as if we were failures - is sealed.

But in the Judgement of the Crucified One, this is the right position to become children who find human completeness, stand firm in their choices of specific weight - and bear corresponding fruit: often the best time in their history.

A free gift, for a Saved Life, the Cross redeems us from the lure of appreciation in society that willingly on the side of the banal and extrinsic bestows ample credits, which however extinguish our complete personal growth.

It saves us from the dangers of crumbling pedestals, on which it is not worthwhile to keep climbing in order to be noticed and unnecessarily - cunningly - pleasured. As would any manipulator who loves mightiness; even a pious one, full of attributes of vigour, but inexorably old and doomed to death - bogged down and sterile - incapable of generating new creatures and reviving himself.

The best opportunities for development, fulfilment and completion emerge from sides of ourselves and situations we do not want. Exactly; even from deep wounds, which affect a whole way of being, doing and appearing.

It is not the end of the world. Today, the global crisis has already annihilated our powerful side, yet it is bringing out the virtue of the fragile side; previously overshadowed for the sake of social catwalks.

Here is the Crucified One, who bleeds not only to heal, soften and remove ballasts, but to overthrow, replace horizons and supplant the entire system of addicted conformisms; and 'stitches' even self-styled alternatives, ways of thinking that seemed like who knows what.

All this, by Faith. Not with identified tension and design, but by baptismal attitude to the new integrity that comes: given, welcomed, recognised.

Thus the embraced Cross saves us.

It appears to be a sabotage to our 'infallible' side, instead it is the Antidote to the city slumbering on the same paths as before - in the usual ways of being and taking the field (now without a future).

Lifting up the Cross goes far beyond resilience.

[Exaltation of the Holy Cross, 14 September]

“What a great thing it is to possess the Cross! He who possesses it possesses a treasure” (Saint Andrew of Crete, Homily X on the Exaltation of the Cross, PG 97, 1020). On this day when the Church’s liturgy celebrates the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the Gospel you have just heard reminds us of the meaning of this great mystery: God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that men might be saved (cf. Jn 3:16). The Son of God became vulnerable, assuming the condition of a slave, obedient even to death, death on a cross (cf. Phil 2:8). By his Cross we are saved. The instrument of torture which, on Good Friday, manifested God’s judgement on the world, has become a source of life, pardon, mercy, a sign of reconciliation and peace. “In order to be healed from sin, gaze upon Christ crucified!” said Saint Augustine (Treatise on Saint John, XII, 11). By raising our eyes towards the Crucified one, we adore him who came to take upon himself the sin of the world and to give us eternal life. And the Church invites us proudly to lift up this glorious Cross so that the world can see the full extent of the love of the Crucified one for mankind, for every man and woman. She invites us to give thanks to God because from a tree which brought death, life has burst out anew. On this wood Jesus reveals to us his sovereign majesty, he reveals to us that he is exalted in glory. Yes, “Come, let us adore him!” In our midst is he who loved us even to giving his life for us, he who invites every human being to draw near to him with trust.

This is the great mystery that Mary also entrusts to us this morning, inviting us to turn towards her Son. In fact, it is significant that, during the first apparition to Bernadette, Mary begins the encounter with the sign of the Cross. More than a simple sign, it is an initiation into the mysteries of the faith that Bernadette receives from Mary. The sign of the Cross is a kind of synthesis of our faith, for it tells how much God loves us; it tells us that there is a love in this world that is stronger than death, stronger than our weaknesses and sins. The power of love is stronger than the evil which threatens us. It is this mystery of the universality of God’s love for men that Mary came to reveal here, in Lourdes. She invites all people of good will, all those who suffer in heart or body, to raise their eyes towards the Cross of Jesus, so as to discover there the source of life, the source of salvation.

The Church has received the mission of showing all people this loving face of God, manifested in Jesus Christ. Are we able to understand that in the Crucified One of Golgotha, our dignity as children of God, tarnished by sin, is restored to us? Let us turn our gaze towards Christ. It is he who will make us free to love as he loves us, and to build a reconciled world. For on this Cross, Jesus took upon himself the weight of all the sufferings and injustices of our humanity. He bore the humiliation and the discrimination, the torture suffered in many parts of the world by so many of our brothers and sisters for love of Christ. We entrust all this to Mary, mother of Jesus and our mother, present at the foot of the Cross.

[Pope Benedict, homily 150th anniversary Lourdes, 14 September 2008]

1. "Rejoice, Holy Church, for today Christ, King of heaven, has crowned you with his Cross and adorned your walls with the splendour of his glory".

Your liturgy sings these words on many occasions, dear brothers and sisters of the Armenian people who have come here to celebrate your Jubilee. The Bishop of Rome extends his cordial greeting to you all and gives you a fatherly embrace.

I exchange a holy kiss of brotherhood with His Beatitude Nerses Bedros XIX, Patriarch of Cilicia for Armenian Catholics, and the Bishops who accompany him. On this happy occasion, I express my best wishes for the Synod which in a few days will begin in this city of Rome. I greet the priests, the religious and all the lay people who have come for this meeting and for today's celebration.

"Today Christ has crowned you with his Cross". Supreme shame, ignoble torture, the cross of the condemned has become a crown of glory. We exalt and venerate what was the despicable sign of abandonment and shame for everyone. How is this paradox possible? The hymn you will sing in this evening's Office explains it to us:  "You were hung on this holy Cross, O God, and you spilled your precious blood upon it". Our salvation originates in Christ's total humiliation.

"I, when I am lifted up from the earth", he said, "I will draw all men to myself" (Jn 12: 32).

The power that triumphs over death is born of the inexpressible pain of love, and the Spirit, sent into the world by the crucified One, restores the rich foliage of the earthly paradise to the withered tree of humanity.

Humanity is astounded by this mystery; it can only kneel and adore the divine plan of our liberation.

2. Brothers and sisters, a few months ago the celebrations of the 1,700th anniversary of the Baptism of the Armenian people began. With this act, accomplished by your ancestors, the holy waters of redemption have brought forth new seeds of life and prosperity among the thorns and thistles that the earth had produced as a consequence of our first parents' sin. This Jubilee of the universal Church opens your Jubilee, in a wonderful continuity of spirit and theological content:  from the Cross, from the side of the crucified Lord, flowed the water of your Baptism. May this anniversary be the opportunity for a precious renewal, for rediscovered hope, and for deep communion among all believers in Christ.

The Armenian people know the Cross well:  they bear it engraved upon their hearts. It is the symbol of their identity, of the tragedies of their history and of the glory of their recovery after every adverse event. In all epochs, the blood of your martyrs has mingled with that of the crucified One.

Whole generations of Armenians have not hesitated to give their lives in order not to deny the faith which, as one of your historians says, belongs to you as the colour belongs to your skin.

The crosses with which your land is strewn are of bare stone, just as human pain is bare; at the same time they are carved with elegant volutes, to show that the whole world is sanctified by the Cross, that pain is redeemed. This evening you will bless the four cardinal points with the Cross, to recall that this poor instrument of torture has become the measure of the world's judgement, a cosmic symbol of the blessing of God, which sanctifies all things and makes all things fruitful.

3. May this blessing reach your regions and bring them serenity and trust! I pray to the crucified One first of all for your communities in Armenia:  there, new and serious forms of poverty are putting your brothers and sisters to the test, giving rise to the temptation of new exoduses to seek elsewhere the means to live and assure safety to their families. Your people are asking for bread and justice, asking politics to be what they should be by their profound vocation:  the honest and disinterested service of the common good, the struggle to enable the poorest and the most forsaken, always clothed in spite of all in the indelible dignity of every child of God, to live a dignified and human life. Do not abandon your suffering brethren:  today, more than ever, may Armenians across the world who, through their hard work, have achieved financial and social security, take charge of their compatriots in a common effort for rebirth!

Today the Pope wants to carry with you the cross of those who suffer. He reminds you that in privations and daily suffering your gaze must be raised to the Cross, from which salvation continues to come. The Gospel is not only a comfort, it is also an incitement to live to the full the values which restore dignity to civil life, uprooting from the depths of the human heart the temptation of violence and injustice, of the exploitation of the lowly and the poor by the powerful and the rich. It is only by putting Christ the Lord at the centre of life that society will be just and that the selfishness of the few will give way to the good of all.

In addition to the Catholics, my remembrance and my greeting are extended to the children of the Armenian Apostolic Church:  may they rest assured that the Pope of Rome is following with concern their efforts to be "the salt of the earth and the light of the world", so that the world will believe and find the strength to hope and to fight. The Catholic Church intends to uphold this effort as though it were her own, in the love which unites us all in Christ.

4. Dear friends, I invoke the blessings of the Lord upon you here, upon all your loved ones, upon the entire Armenian people and particularly upon the sick, the elderly and all who are suffering in body and in soul.

Today I will be with you in spirit during your pilgrimage of faith which is a fundamental dimension of the Jubilee. The pilgrimage reminds us that our being is on the way towards the fullness of the kingdom, which will be given to us when, with grateful wonder, we will see the Lord of the ages come again in glory, still bearing on his Body the marks of the Passion:  "per Crucem ad gloriam".

Do not forget to pray for me too, so that the Lord will guide my steps on the path of peace!
I cordially impart my Blessing to everyone!

[Pope John Paul II, Audience Armenian Patriarchate 14 September 2000]

On 14 September the Church celebrates the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Some non-Christian person might ask: why “exalt” the Cross? We can respond that we do not exalt any cross whatsoever or all crosses: we exalt the Cross of Jesus, because in it God’s love for humanity was fully revealed. That’s what the Gospel of John reminds us of in today’s liturgy: “God so loved the world that He gave his only Son” (3:16). The Father “gave” the Son to save us, and this resulted in the death of Jesus, and his death on the Cross. Why? Why was the Cross necessary? Because of the gravity of the evil which enslaved us. The Cross of Jesus expresses both things: all the negative forces of evil, and all of the gentle omnipotence of God’s mercy. The Cross would seem to decree Christ’s failure, but in reality it signals His victory. On Calvary, those who mocked him said to him, “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross” (cf. Mt 27:40). But the opposite was true: it was precisely because Jesus was the Son of God, that He was there, on the Cross, faithful to the end to the loving plan of the Father. And for this very reason God “exalted” Jesus (Phil 2:9), conferring universal kingship on Him.

When we look to the Cross where Jesus was nailed, we contemplate the sign of love, of the infinite love of God for each of us and the source of our salvation. The mercy of God, which embraces the whole world, springs from the Cross. Through the Cross of Christ the Evil One is overcome, death is defeated, life is given to us, hope is restored. This is important: through the Cross of Christ hope is restored to us. The Cross of Jesus is our one true hope! That is why the Church “exalts” the Holy Cross, and why we Christians bless ourselves with the sign of the cross. That is, we don’t exalt crosses, but the glorious Cross of Christ, the sign of God’s immense love, the sign of our salvation and path toward the Resurrection. This is our hope.

While we contemplate and celebrate the Holy Cross, we think with emotion of so many of our brothers and sisters who are being persecuted and killed because of their faith in Christ. This happens especially wherever religious freedom is still not guaranteed or fully realized. It happens, however, even in countries and areas which, in principle, protect freedom and human rights but where, in practice, believers, and especially Christians, encounter restrictions and discrimination. So today we remember them and pray for them in a special way.

On Calvary, there at the foot of the Cross, was the Virgin Mary (cf. Jn 19:25-27). She is Our Lady of Sorrows, whom we shall celebrate tomorrow in the liturgy. To her I entrust the present and the future of the Church, so that we may all always be able to discover and welcome the message of love and salvation of the Cross of Christ.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 14 September 2014]

(Mt 18:21-35)

Throughout the ancient Middle East, non-disproportionate retaliation one to one [not cruel] was a sacred law.

Forgiveness was a humiliating and absurd attitude, an incomprehensible principle to anyone experiencing any injustice.

Conversely, in the dynamic of Faith, forgiveness becomes a power, which not only makes the air breathable, but activates our personal destiny.

Peter instead wants to know the limits of forgiveness (v.21).

Historically, at the end of the first century the picky, severe, style of the synagogue and of the Empire [«divide et impera»] reappear in believers. 

A question arises: will we have to stop welcoming?

In addition, in the same churches one begins to think that someone has sinned in lese majesty towards those who - now hard and heartless - are used to being revered.

Veterans who make trouble more than others and then dot on the minutiae of others (the weak brothers, considered subjected and destined to the fiscal rigour of moralisms, as well as penances).

While religious discipline exacerbates minute defects, the very experience of the disproportion between the forgiveness received from the Father and what we are able to offer to the brothers, makes us understand the need for tolerance.

Church should be this space of the experience of God who return life, an alternative place of fraternity.

Imperial society was harsh and uncompassionate, with no room for the small and shaky, who unassumingly sought any refuge for their hearts - but no religion gave them an answer.

Synagogues, too, identified material and spiritual blessings. Cloaked with requirements, purity rules and fulfilments, they did not offer the warmth of a welcoming place for the weak.

The issue was that in the early Christian communities themselves, some people insisted on the rigour of norms, customs and hierarchies, demanding coexistence based on the Judaizing model.

Furthermore, as the Letter of James testifies, towards the end of the first century the identical divisions of society, between miserables and wealthy, were already beginning to manifest themselves in the churches of Christ!

Welcoming space of the communities that in the Spirit had been given the task by the Lord to enlighten the world with their seed of life as a ‘shelter for all’ (and of alternative relationships) ran the risk of becoming again a place of conflict, judgement, punishment, condemnation.

«So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if you do not condone each one to his own brother from your heart» (v.35).

Divine forgiveness becomes effective and evident only in the testimony of the Church (v.35) where sisters and brothers - instead of showing themselves to be meticulous, let themselves be guided by a Vision of new heavens and new earth.

For this reason - without any effort, indeed blessing the needs of others as territories of preparatory energies - they live the communion of resources and remit even material debts, a misery.

Otherwise, we would always have to live in the incumbency of an indulgent God perhaps, but at times, and according to the cases retracting the doing of mercy.

It would be a life without surprising developments, all weighted down in a swamp of little pennies.

Instead, it is the active energy of the Faith that does not condemn us to trudge.

The magnanimity that comes out of the automatisms shifts our gaze and brings us an ineffable and growing wave, far ahead of what we can imagine.

Our surrenders are preparing new developments - the ones that count, without limitations.

The "win-or-lose" alternative is false: you have to get out of it.

[24th Sunday in O.T. (year A), September 13, 2026]

(Mt 18:21-35)

Throughout the ancient Middle East, disproportionate retaliation (one for one, not cruel) was sacred law.

Forgiveness was a humiliating and absurd attitude, an incomprehensible principle for anyone who experienced injustice or tragedy.

Conversely, in the dynamic of faith, forgiveness becomes a power that not only makes the air breathable, but also activates our personal destiny.

The Gospel according to Matthew devotes considerable attention to the theme of forgiveness and the need to heal internal divisions within the Church, where everyone seems to want to crush the other, even if only out of spiritual envy.

One wonders: is there a different counterpart to the pagan principle of retributive justice [uncuique jus suum], which, taken to extremes, ends up accentuating divisions?

What is the most reasonable behaviour for those who have been welcomed by God and forgiven in an exorbitant way?

It is not enough to counterpose a good-natured, even noble, but for this very reason out of proportion value, if it excludes the time of a journey, the horizon of development that ultimately supplants [and not simply overlooks: the so-called 'being positive'].

The only solution free of dormant revenge is to have a sense of the immeasurable, of gratuitous forbearance – received without merit or conditions – in view of new paths.

We must first of all realise that the decisive element in overcoming obstacles is not our strength or an induced voluntarism, which tears us and our brothers apart and destroys the atmosphere of conviviality.

Only a dizzying emotion can integrate our impulses and all our affections, and bring to the surface the seeds of passions that make us dizzy.

Personal or external ecstasies; unknown and neglected or unexpressed, to which we have not yet given space.

In fact, in our daily lives, it seems normal to react immediately and violate situations with impudence, then raise hell over minor transgressions by others - even claiming to suffocate those responsible for trifles.

Obviously, even immediately after we have begged and promised in the ritual.

Matthew offers even paradoxical nuances on forgiveness, always placing his catechesis on a priceless level, in the perspective of spousal and creative faith.

He insists on this in several passages because the communities he addresses are very poor, still rooted in the narrow-mindedness of ancient religiosity.

As happens not only in groups linked to the baggage of the tradition of the 'fathers' - not of the Father - the members of the communities of Galilee and Syria experienced the normality of disagreements, different opinions and all conflicts as an affront.

It seems incredible, but those who feel they possess a licence of immunity [linked to futuristic myths or sacred inhibitions, outdated restraints and observances or cosmic projects of abstract subversion] find it more difficult to enter into the minute logic of coexistence, of confrontation - of disproportion, of boundlessness, of the Gift that favours coexistence itself.

Peter wants to know the limits of forgiveness (v. 21).

Historically, at the end of the first century, the scrupulous, severe style of the synagogue and the Empire ['divide and rule'] had reappeared among believers.

The question arose and was raised again: should we stop welcoming?

In addition, within the churches themselves, people began to think that some had committed lese majesty against those who, now hardened and heartless, were accustomed to being revered.

Veterans who did more than others and then nitpicked at the minutiae of others (the weak brothers, considered subordinates and destined for the fiscal rigour of moralism and penance).

Does the insolvent debtor of the Gospel take it out on those who owe him a few pennies?

The excessive forgiveness of the living and true God can only be manifested to the world through a community that raises grudges and relationships to a new level - simply a more normal one.

The Tao Te Ching (x) says: 'Let creatures live and nourish them, let them live and do not keep them as your own; work and expect nothing, let them grow and do not govern them. This is the mysterious virtue'.

In commentary, Master Wang Pi writes: 'The Tao never acts, creatures transform themselves. Do not obstruct their source, do not hinder their nature. Creatures grow and satisfy themselves by themselves'.

Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'The Tao makes the ten thousand creatures grow and nourishes them, but does not harm them by governing them as if they were instruments. The implementation of virtue by the Tao is mysterious and obscure, and cannot be scrutinised. It wants to induce men to be like the Tao'.

Even today, legalistic practice exaggerates minor faults, but the very experience of the disproportion between the forgiveness received from the Father and what we are able to offer to our brothers and sisters makes us understand the need for indulgence.

Tolerance lived in a situation, not just in principle.

Even more so in times of global crisis, the Church should be this space of experience of God who restores life. An alternative place of fraternity that is less cheap, less sophisticated.

Imperial society was harsh and without compassion, with no room for the small and weak, who without too many pretensions sought any refuge for their hearts - but no religion responded to their need for understanding.

Even the synagogues identified material and spiritual blessings. Shrouded in prior requirements, purity rules and obligations, they did not offer the warmth of a welcoming place for the weak.

The trouble was that in the early Christian communities themselves, some insisted on strict rules.

They demanded that people live together according to the Jewish model or according to rigid, abstract principles that had no real meaning.

Furthermore, as the letter of James shows, towards the end of the first century, the same divisions that existed in society were beginning to appear in the churches of Christ, between the poor and the wealthy!

The welcoming space of the communities that had been given the task by the Lord in the Spirit to enlighten the world with their seed of life as Houses for all, of alternative relationships, was in danger of becoming once again a place of conflict, judgement, punishment and condemnation.

As usual: no Good News for the least, who were exhausted everywhere. 

And this unspeakable climate sowed death even for others, even those who were more fortunate but trapped in harsh reality.

What to do?

The fundamental educational function of the Church is still to include; to make people understand that the initiative can only come from the creditor (vv. 21-22, 27, 33): he too is one of the 'lost' (v. 25).

Only through an intimate awareness of the Faith can we overcome the ruthlessness of competition and retributive justice.

There is no wisdom in being pretentious and unforgiving just to feel important (vv. 28-30).

Our failures are preparing new developments - those that matter, without limitations.

"So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart" (v. 35).

Divine forgiveness becomes effective and evident in the witness of the Church, where sisters and brothers, instead of being petty, are moved to help one another.

They allow themselves to be guided by a vision of new heavens and a new earth.

For this reason, without any effort, indeed blessing the needs of others as territories of preparatory energies, they live in communion of resources and forgive even material debts, which are ultimately a poverty.

Otherwise, we would always have to live under the burden of a God of retribution.

And in this way we would reveal him: perhaps indulgent, but only for a time; a God who withdraws his mercy, as Pope Francis would say.

Thus, we would live under the lash of our tormentors, who advocate a way of life that is proper but artificial, made up of unimaginative exchanges.

An anticipated hell of pettiness, which underestimates and ridicules the Measure of the Gospel. Good News that goes hand in hand with differences.

Even the balancing of remissions would not save us from the offence (this one truly enormous) of stagnation that levels essences - and therefore from ruin.

It is beautiful and fruitful to live in the imbalance of gratuitousness, rather than in giving and receiving. This also happens with God.

Through forgiveness, we not only improve the obsessive atmosphere and attest to our belief - e.g. in the Cross - but we also build a flexible and malleable experience, full of recovery and being. 

Amazement; openness, flexibility, disproportion.

The rest remains mere commentary.

Echoes of a subject that trivially proposes to ratify the 'contract'.

Traces of an environment that remains where it is - until new forces take over.

It would be a life without wonderful developments, weighed down by the 'do ut des' and the swamp of small change.

Instead, it is the active energy of Faith that overcomes defined agreements. And it does not condemn us to struggle.

The ever-increasing magnanimity that emerges from automatisms shifts the gaze away from small cuts.

It brings an ineffable and growing Wave. Much further ahead than we can imagine.

The 'victory or defeat' alternative is false: we must get out of it.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you know how to live in the imbalance of gratuitousness?

Do you rush and judge, or do you perceive and wait?

Is your life of faith constituted by the giving and receiving typical of banal religion, or by the awareness that you are bound to echo what the Father has already given you in abundance?

What is the space for reconciliation in your reality?

What do you mean in concrete terms by the Gospel?

Forgiveness and Faith: A living encounter

Eccentric gratuitousness, moving forward: the sacrament of humanity as such

(Lk 17:1-6)

Knowledge of God is not a confiscated good or an acquired and already seized science: it moves from one action to another, incessantly; it is realised in an ever-living Encounter that neither blocks us nor dissolves us.

The experience of the 'little ones' [mikròi v.2] is typical. From the earliest communities of faith, they were those who lacked security and energy; unstable and without support.

The 'little ones' have always been the beginners, the newcomers who have heard about Christian brotherhood but are sometimes forced to stand aside or give up the journey.

But the criterion of welcome, tolerance, communion, even of material goods, was the first and main catalyst for the growth of the assemblies.

It was even the source and meaning of all the formulas and signs of the liturgy.

The existential and ideal centre towards which to converge. For a proactive and self-transforming Faith.

In the Spirit of the Master, even for us, the reconciliation of friction is not simply a work of magnanimity.

It is the beginning of the future world. The beginning of an unpredictable and indescribable adventure. And with it, we are suddenly reborn: we have come into direct contact with Christ. He who does not extinguish us at all.

Hence the Christian forgiveness of children, which is not... 'looking on the bright side' and 'turning a blind eye': rather, it is the Newness of God that creates an environment of Grace, propulsive, with enormous possibilities.

A force that bursts forth and paradoxically allows the dark poles to meet, instead of shaking them off. Genuinely eliminating comparisons, useless words and burdens that block the transparent Exodus.

A dynamic that leads to the indispensable and essential: shifting one's gaze. Teaching us to become aware of our own hysteria, to know ourselves, to face anxiety and its causes, to manage situations and moments of crisis.

A malleable virtue that listens intimately to one's personal essence.

Thus, solid, broad empathy introduces new energies; it brings together one's deepest states, even one's standard life... giving rise to other knowledge, different perspectives, unexpected relationships.

In this way, without too much struggle, it renews us and curbs the loss of truthfulness [typically in favour of circumstantial manners].