22nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [30 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah (20:7–9).

The central theme here is Jeremiah’s inner struggle: the fire of the Word.  His is an experience of persecution and inner turmoil that he endured throughout his life. And he is not alone: many other prophets and, later, Jesus himself faced similar situations. Jeremiah carried out his ministry during the 40 years leading up to the disaster in Jerusalem in 587 BC and the deportation to Babylon. Forty years of spiritual decline. His task was to foretell the catastrophe, not to be a harbinger of doom, but on the contrary in the hope of securing, at the very last moment, the conversion of the king and the people. He spared no effort to warn his contemporaries, whilst there was still time, but they, in turn, spared no effort to silence this spoilsport. It is in this contentious and distressing context that the private reflections from which we have read an excerpt arise: his ‘confessions’. Unfortunately, the word ‘lamentations’, which derives from this, has taken on a pejorative connotation, and this is unjust: Jeremiah’s confessions are magnificent, full of sorrow, yes, but even more so full of faith and passion for the cause of his God. In today’s text, he reveals to us the inner struggle taking place deep within him: torn between God’s call, which urges him to speak, and human wisdom, which urges him to remain silent: ‘I said, “I will think no more of him; I will speak no more in his name!” But in my heart there was like a burning fire, shut up in my bones; I tried to hold it back, but I could not’ (Jer 20:9). To give up would mean abandoning his fellow citizens to their sad fate and betraying God’s trust. It is clear why this text is set before us on the Sunday when we hear the Gospel following Peter’s confession at Caesarea. When Jesus asked the disciples, ‘Who do you say that I am?’, Peter replied that Jesus was the expected Messiah. But immediately afterwards, Jesus reveals to the disciples the fate that awaits him: Passion, the cross, death and resurrection (Mt 16:21). Peter protests: ‘God forbid, Lord; this shall never happen to you.’ But Jesus calls him ‘Satan’ and warns the disciples that they will not be treated any better than their Master: ‘If anyone wishes to come after me… (Mt 16:24–25). This proves that every true prophet is inevitably a thorn in the side of the prevailing ideas of the moment. The consuming fire of the Word of God, which calls for conversion, is not meant to please: ‘I have become a byword all day long; everyone mocks me,’ confesses Jeremiah, and he does not hide the fact that at times he is afraid. He hears people talking behind his back and plotting to get rid of him: ‘I hear the slander of many’ (Jer 20:10). The prophet is all the more troublesome because, as the Lord’s messenger, the Lord gives him the strength to carry on despite all the persecution, so that there is no way to silence him. It is clear why persecution is inevitable. The verses preceding today’s reading describe a particularly harrowing episode: Jeremiah had so exasperated everyone in the Temple with his rebukes that the priest Pashur had him tied to a pillory, hanging upside down in the public square. The next day, when Pashur himself came to untie him, thinking that such punishment had calmed him down, Jeremiah spoke out even more forcefully and took his anger out on Pashur himself. Yet these confessions of Jeremiah’s, steeped in sorrow, are at the same time an admission of the all-consuming passion that burns within him and, ultimately, illuminates his life: ‘You have seduced me, Lord, and I let myself be seduced’ (Jer 20:7). He complains, yes, but he would not give his place to anyone else. The Word was a burning fire in my heart, a consuming fire that brings to mind Psalm 68/69: ‘Zelo for your house has consumed me’, which aptly expresses the persecution suffered by all the prophets. To begin with, this was the case with the people of Israel, entrusted with a prophetic mission in the service of the nations. Throughout their history, they sought to remain faithful to that mission, and this earned them terrible persecution at times. Then it was the case for all the prophets, one after another, and subsequently for the early Christians, who imitated Jesus, who was ultimately silenced. But nothing can silence the Word of God: Christ is risen; and now we know that a day will come when people will hear the Word and finally find their light in it. 

Responsorial Psalm (62/63) 

This psalm echoes the experience of Jeremiah, whom we encounter in the first reading, who endured inner turmoil and constant attacks, even though his passion for God—stronger than anything else—helped him to endure every threat and humiliation. However, this psalm was not composed to speak of Jeremiah; rather, it is like a prayer that King David might have composed whilst being hunted down by his enemies. The Old Testament recounts at least three episodes in which David had to take refuge in the Judean desert: the first two times to escape the murderous rage of King Saul, who had become so jealous of David that he wanted to kill him. The third time was even more dramatic: the one pursuing and seeking to kill David was his own son Absalom, who was too eager to seize the throne and hasten his father’s death, and who had already eliminated his elder brother. David did not immediately realise the danger, and by the time he did, it was too late: Absalom was on the verge of conquering Jerusalem; there was only one solution left: flight. And all of Jerusalem saw their king, humiliated, fleeing on foot from the holy city and climbing the Mount of Olives in tears (cf. 2 Sam 15:23–28). The words of this psalm are attributed to David: ‘Your love is better than life’ (v. 4). As is well known, the title of the psalms does not designate the author—in this case, King David. This psalm in particular contains several clear allusions to the Temple in Jerusalem, which David certainly did not know, as the Temple was only built by his son Solomon. ‘A psalm of David’ here means ‘in the manner of David, the one who thirsts for God’. The prayer ‘O God, you are my God; at dawn I seek you; my soul thirsts for you’ may have been David’s, but it is also that of all generations of the chosen people, from Abraham right up to the Day of Salvation. In the most dramatic periods, this prayer took on even greater force, as during the Exile in Babylon. Upon their return from the Exile, the people give thanks: ‘Yes, you have been my help; I rejoice in the shelter of your wings.’ These are the wings of the cherubim that cover the Ark of the Covenant in the Holy of Holies; but they also recall the wings of the great desert eagle that protects its brood whilst teaching them to fly: and Moses had taken up this image to express the care with which God had surrounded his people: ‘I carried you on eagle’s wings,’ God had said (cf. Ex 19:4; Dt 32:10–11). Then came the even more terrible periods of persecution in the 2nd century BC under the Greek king Antiochus Epiphanes, when many Jews died for their faith, proclaiming: ‘Your love, Lord, is worth more than life.’ This verse resonates particularly on this Sunday, when we shall hear Jesus say to his disciples: ‘Whoever loses their life for my sake will save it’ (Mt 16:25). This is the struggle of all the prophets.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (12:1–2)

‘I urge you, brothers and sisters, by the tenderness of God’: this is the theme of the Letter to the Romans. The first eleven chapters deal with the major themes of Paul’s theology, which are set out at length and in depth: the universality of sin, justification by faith, the Paschal Mystery, the work of the Holy Spirit, and the salvation promised and granted to all. But all of this always returns to a single subject: the tenderness of God. Now, as in all his letters, Paul draws out for his readers the implications of his teaching: the discovery of God’s immense tenderness cannot fail to shake us to the core, or rather, to permeate our whole life from now on. ‘I urge you, brothers and sisters, by the tenderness of God…’. What he is about to say is closely linked to everything he has written so far, particularly in the final lines of the previous chapter: ‘God wishes to show mercy to all’, which are followed by the hymn of thanksgiving we read last Sunday: ‘Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements, and his ways beyond our understanding!’ (Rom 11:32–33).  The logical response is to offer ourselves as a ‘living, holy sacrifice’. Therefore, says Saint Paul, there is no room for hesitation: to this God, so astonishing in his tenderness and his desire to save all humanity, there is but one possible response: that of trusting surrender, offering ourselves to him as a sacrifice so that he may accomplish his work within us. The verb ‘to sacrifice’ means ‘to make sacred’, and St Paul invites us to make our lives sacred—that is, divine. Paul devotes the remainder of his Letter to the Romans to setting out the nature of the Christian commitment: each person, according to their gifts and qualities, is invited to take their place in the Church’s mission, which is the service of all people. This commitment is an active participation in ‘God’s will’. This undoubtedly requires us to accept, day by day, to be transformed—that is, to ‘renew our minds’—which for us is, at times, a true conversion because, all too often, our thoughts are not God’s thoughts but those of men, as Jesus rebuked Peter at Caesarea Philippi, as we read in this Sunday’s Gospel. But the Spirit has been given to us to bring about this renewal within us, which requires us to refuse to conform to the mindset of this age (Rom 12:2). True freedom lies in charting our own course, whatever the siren calls of fashion may be; in loving the world without being enslaved by the world’s ways; and in remaining constantly immersed in God’s tenderness, even though we know full well that it is not easy.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (16:21–27)

From ‘You are the Christ’ to the rejection of the cross. This account follows Peter’s memorable profession of faith which we heard last Sunday: ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God’, a statement which earned him this reply from Jesus: ‘Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah: it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you (that is, you did not guess it on your own), but my Father in heaven. Like any blessing, this ‘Blessed are you’ sounds like a compliment – and what a compliment! – but also like encouragement. And indeed, it will take a great deal of courage for Peter to remain faithful to this first profession of faith. For he does not yet fully grasp its significance, and Jesus has not finished surprising him. In fact, Jesus accepts, at least implicitly, Peter’s recognition of his title as the Messiah: ‘My Father has revealed this to you’. And immediately afterwards, he sets out his plan, which does not fit at all with the common idea people had of the Messiah: ‘From that time on, Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly…’ (Mt 16:21). It was a world turned upside down: a king without weapons or privileges… Worse still, a king who was mistreated and seemingly consenting… . He speaks of suffering greatly and even of being put to death! Peter has some reason to protest because, like many of his contemporaries, he was expecting a triumphant, glorious, powerful Messiah-King who would drive the Roman occupiers out of Jerusalem. What Jesus announces is therefore unacceptable: the almighty God cannot allow such things to happen! One might almost entitle this text: ‘Peter’s first denial’, his first refusal to follow the Messiah in his suffering. Jesus faces this spontaneous refusal on Peter’s part as a real temptation for himself and tells him so vehemently: ‘Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me’ (Mt 16:23). We must allow the Spirit to transform—and at times completely overturn—our plans and ideas if we are to remain faithful to God’s plan. As Paul says in the second reading, we must allow the Spirit of God to transform our ways of seeing (cf. Rom 12:2) and we will experience wonderful surprises, for God’s ways are entirely different from our own. We must never lose sight of Isaiah’s famous words: ‘God says: “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord’ (Isaiah 55:8–9). ‘If I understood God, he would not be God,’ said Saint Augustine. We must therefore accept being taken by surprise: the apostles and all the Jews of their time were, Peter foremost among them. With rare exceptions, they had anticipated a powerful, triumphant Messiah; instead, Jesus is the very antithesis of these grand expectations. God’s plan is nothing other than the salvation of the world, that is, the birth of a new humanity, one that will live solely by tenderness and mercy, in the image of God Himself. The logic of the cross is required to save humankind, and the salvation of humankind—that is, our total and definitive conversion to love and forgiveness, to brotherhood and peace, to sharing and justice—cannot happen with a wave of a magic wand. The salvation of humankind inevitably involves a slow transformation of humankind, but how can we transform humankind without showing them the way? Therefore, it was absolutely necessary for Jesus to walk the path of gentleness, goodness and forgiveness to the very end, in order to give us some chance of walking it ourselves. This is why Jesus, when explaining his passion and death to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, said ‘it had to be’, in the sense of ‘unfortunately, it had to be’. God’s plan of salvation is not compatible with a triumphant Messiah. For people to come to a full knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4), they must discover the God of tenderness and forgiveness, of mercy and compassion, and this is not achieved through power but through the supreme gift of the Son’s life. We can then better understand this saying of Jesus: ‘No one has greater love than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends’ (John 15:13). Only this supreme proof of love can lead us, too, to walk the path of love.

NOTE. ‘You are a stumbling block to me’ – the Greek word skandalon means ‘stumbling block’ – and our frailties and doubts can become stumbling blocks for ourselves or for others.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

21st Sunday in Ordinary Time  (year A)  [23 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (22:19–23)

We are in Jerusalem around 700 BC, during the reign of Hezekiah. The steward of the royal palace, Shebna, holds a very important office: he is entrusted with the ‘keys of the house of David’, a symbol of the authority to control access to the king and to govern in his name. The prophet Isaiah accuses Shebna of two serious offences: 1. He supported an alliance with Egypt against the Assyrian empire, a choice that would have led to grave consequences for the kingdom: the offence, therefore, of giving bad advice. 2. Instead of serving the people, he was primarily concerned with his own prestige and power: the offence of pursuing his own interests. For this reason, Isaiah announces his dismissal and the appointment of Eliakim, described as a true servant of the people. He is entrusted with the keys to the kingdom with the words: ‘If he opens, no one will shut; if he shuts, no one will open.’ From this historical event, the sacred author draws several important messages: 1. God acts within concrete history, and political events too form part of the history of salvation. 2. Nothing escapes God’s plan of salvation, and everything contributes to its fulfilment. 3. In this context, the role of the prophets is to call rulers and those in power to justice and the common good. 4. We must constantly remember that all authority is a service: power exists for the good of the people, not for the personal interest of those who exercise it. 5 We must not forget that when the good of his people is threatened, God intervenes to raise up faithful leaders, for he never abandons his people or his plans for salvation. 

Responsorial Psalm (137/138)

The prayer of the poor rises above the clouds. This short psalm (138 according to the Hebrew numbering, 137 in the Greek) is a prayer of thanksgiving that summarises the entire history of the Covenant between God and Israel. As is often the case in the psalms, the ‘I’ who speaks actually represents the whole people of Israel, chosen by God to know his love and bear witness to it before the nations. The psalm opens with a thanksgiving: ‘I give you thanks, Lord, with all my heart’. In the Greek version, the reason for this praise is specified: God has heard the prayer of his people. This is one of the fundamental convictions of the biblical faith. Ever since the experience of Moses at the burning bush, God has presented himself as the one who sees the suffering of his people, hears their cry and knows their anguish. He is not indifferent to human suffering, but sustains his children so that they may not be overwhelmed by evil. This is why the psalm states that the Lord, though he is most high, looks with care upon the humble. The same teaching is taken up by Ben Sira: ‘The prayer of the poor pierces the clouds’, that is, it reaches God. And Jesus, too, will express the same trust before Lazarus’s tomb: ‘I knew that you always hear me’ (John 11:41–42). This is a universal psalm which, in some parts, lends itself to various possible interpretations due to differences between the Hebrew and Greek texts. The phrase ‘I will sing to you in the presence of the angels’ in the Hebrew text could be translated as ‘before the gods’ (the Elohîm). The two readings are not mutually exclusive: ‘Before the angels’ evokes the heavenly liturgy, in which the heavenly beings continually praise God with the song ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’, as in the vision of the prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 6:3). ‘Before the gods’ is a profession of faith: the God of Israel is the one true God, whilst the idols of the nations have no power whatsoever. A Syriac translation, on the other hand, proposes: ‘I sing to you before the kings’. In this case, Israel’s mission to bear witness to the Lord before all the peoples of the earth comes to the fore. Rather than contradicting one another, the three interpretations complement one another. The psalm sings of God’s love and faithfulness. In the Bible, ‘love and faithfulness’ is a phrase that denotes God’s unshakeable faithfulness to the Covenant. For Israel, remembering God’s love and faithfulness means remembering that the Lord never abandons his people, even when they prove unfaithful. The conclusion is trust in God’s work. Indeed, the psalm ends with a plea: ‘Do not forsake the work of your hands’. This is not a request born of fear, but of trust. The believer knows that God’s love is eternal and that, despite human frailty, the Lord will continue to carry out his plan of salvation. The final message is therefore simple and profound: God always hears the cry of the lowly and the poor; his faithfulness never fails and his work in history continues. For this reason, the believer can praise him with gratitude and entrust themselves to him with complete confidence.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (11:33–36)

This passage concludes Paul’s reflection on the rift within the Jewish people following the emergence of the Christian community. For centuries, the Jews had been certain that they were the people chosen by God to bear witness to the one true God before the world, and his Covenant had been confirmed throughout history. The prophets had recalled this vocation, proclaiming that Israel would be a light to the nations and an instrument of salvation for all peoples. The emergence of Christianity triggered a profound crisis, and a group of Jews arose who recognised Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah. Paul, who was Jewish and became a Christian, experienced this rift first-hand. On the one hand, he adhered to Christ; on the other, he suffered at the sight of the majority of his people rejecting the Gospel. This gave rise to his question: has God perhaps rejected Israel? Has the Covenant been annulled and replaced by a new people? Paul finds an initial answer in the Scriptures: the Covenant, founded on God’s gratuitous love and not on the people’s abilities or merits, cannot be revoked because God is faithful to his promises and cannot deny himself. For this reason, Paul affirms that ‘God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable’ (Rom 11:29). The second reason for hope is the conviction that the relationship between God and Israel – described by the prophets as a spousal love – will be maintained even in times of suffering, which are transformed into opportunities for salvation. A portion of Israel—the so-called ‘faithful remnant’ spoken of by the prophets—has accepted Christ, and Paul is convinced that this process will lead to full salvation: he cannot explain how, but he is certain of it. Having reached this point, Paul offers no further theoretical explanations, but contemplates the mystery of God: ‘Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are  his judgements and his ways beyond our understanding!’  The final message, which draws on words from Isaiah, Job and the wisdom tradition,  is an invitation to Christians to cultivate an attitude of humble trust: God’s plans are beyond human understanding, but his faithfulness is certain. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (16:13–20)

We have reached a decisive moment in the Gospel of Matthew. At Caesarea, Peter  recognises Jesus as the Messiah without Jesus having just performed any extraordinary sign: Peter’s faith springs from an inner revelation. For this reason, Jesus says to him: “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah, for neither flesh nor blood has revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” True faith does not arise from human intelligence, but is a gift from God. And this is what is new about Peter’s confession: it is not the use of individual titles, but their connection. Jesus asks who the ‘Son of Man’ is, and Peter replies that he is the ‘Son of God’. In this way, he recognises that the glorious figure foretold by Daniel is one and the same as the Messiah sent by God. However, Peter does not yet fully understand the mystery of Jesus. He knows that Jesus is the Messiah, but he has not yet realised that he is the Son of God made man. This understanding will mature after the Resurrection and the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Immediately after Peter’s profession of faith, Jesus begins to proclaim openly his Passion, death and Resurrection. The expression ‘from that time on’ indicates that a fundamental milestone in the understanding of his identity has been reached. In Jesus’ time, the expression ‘Son of God’ was essentially equivalent to ‘Messiah’ or ‘King consecrated by God’. The disciples had already used this title after the miracle of walking on water, but at that time they had been struck above all by his power. During his trial before the high priest, Jesus once again combines these two titles, declaring that the Son of Man will come on the clouds of heaven and sit at the right hand of God. Yet it is precisely at that moment that his kingship is revealed, not through force, but through the love with which he entrusts himself into the hands of men. In Caesarea, following his profession of faith, Peter is entrusted with the mission of leading the Church: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church.” The rock does not refer to a personal quality of Peter—who would repeatedly demonstrate his frailties—but to the faith he received from the Father. The foundation of the Church is therefore faith in Jesus Christ. The Church is the new people of God, the “people of the saints of the Most High” foretold by Daniel, united to Christ as the body is to its head. And Peter receives the power of the keys. Jesus adds: “Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” This is the so-called power of the keys, which recalls the symbol of the authority entrusted in the Old Testament to Eliakim. This does not mean that Peter and his successors are omnipotent, but that God undertakes to accompany their mission. The Church has the task of bringing people into communion with the Father and opening up access to the Kingdom for them. The final message is Jesus’ reassuring word: ‘I will build my Church’. It is not the Church that saves itself, nor is it people who build it by their own strength. It is Christ himself, the Risen One, who sustains and guides her. This is why Jesus can promise that the gates of hell shall not prevail against her. The strength of the Church does not depend on the perfection of her members, but on the faithfulness of Christ, the Son of the living God, who continues to build her throughout history.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Mt 23:23-26)

When leaders of an equivocal religiosity want to be accredited, they insist on abstract ideas or details, and pretend not to see the abnormal.

In ancient times, the duplicity between what they showed and what they cultivated was proverbial.

To cover up their despicable spirit of robbery (v.25), here they are to make sprout all sorts of legalistic subtleties, overshadowing the substantial demands.

Even in Israel, they were never on the line of the Prophets: they calculated to make Jesus suffer who exposed them, to discourage him with mocking insults and accusations - in order to undermine his boldness.

Yet the new Rabbi continued in the lashing condemnation of religious formalism, which created barriers to any profound motivations’ search for action.

However, his story makes us understand that even the harsh conditions and ambiguous attitudes of the authorities themselves can be an opportunity and a starting point.

Perhaps a gift, to act.

The inner person also enlivens by breaking a mask, a role, a formal task, a character; a consolidated icon of wanting to appear and not to be.

However, today it is also up to us to take the greatest risk with Christ, in favour of a long adventure of the soul.

Here we touch those spaces where the Call by Name does not resemble anyone else.

Where we meet ourselves, our profound vocational identity, the unexpressed talents, and the divine Author’s signature, in Uniqueness.

If we do not keep it quiet, then the vocational Seed that does not lie and guides us emerges; the present Risen Christ who reveals himself to be understanding, delicate, attentive, absolutely personal but clear.

Attention to details and minutiae is good and propulsive (v.23) only if it joins this intimate discovery of one’s singular Mission.

Here the reference to substantial values does not imply carelessness or contempt for what seems secondary: this appeal can conceal an unrepeatable character.

Devoid of extreme solicitations, the motive of our actions would perhaps remain the benefit and concern of our own fame; so on.

This would pervade the soul from not doing or not saying anything, making arid and discredited the experience of Faith.

In this way, even an internal or external contradiction can contribute to giving birth to our deepest side.

Even anger at a disorder can activate development, so that we correspond to our Name.

And so we sink our roots, strengthen the trunk, to stimulate inner youthfulness. With our sights set on the hidden Seed, before raising “branches”.

The Master proposes an ascent to essentiality - also so that we can follow the «one specific path that the Lord has in mind for us» [Gaudete et Exsultate n.11].

All in a great desire to be born again, in the small and the big, to give birth to our deepest side.

[Tuesday 21th wk. in O.T.  August 25, 2026]

In the Liturgy of the Word [...] the theme of God’s Law, of his commandments, makes its entrance in the Liturgy of the Word this Sunday. It is an essential element of the Jewish and Christian religions, where the complete fulfilment of the law is love (cf. Rom 13:10). God’s Law is his word which guides men and women on the journey through life, brings them out of the slavery of selfishness and leads them into the “land” of true freedom and life. This is why the Law is not perceived as a burden or an oppressive restriction in the Bible. Rather, it is seen as the Lord’s most precious gift, the testimony of his fatherly love, of his desire to be close to his People, to be its Ally and with it write a love story.

This is what the devout Israelite prays: “I will delight in your statutes, / I will not forget your word.... Lead me in the path of your commandments, / for I delight in it” (Ps 119[118]:16, 35). In the Old Testament the person who passes on the Law to the People on God’s behalf is Moses. After the long journey in the wilderness, on the threshold of the promised land, he proclaims: “Now, O Israel, give heed to the statutes and the ordinances which I teach you, and do them; that you may live, and go in and take possession of the land which the Lord, the God of your fathers, gives you” (Deut 4:1). And this is the problem: when the People put down roots in the land and are the depository of the Law, they are tempted to place their security and joy in something that is no longer the Word of God: in possessions, in power, in other ‘gods’ that in reality are useless, they are idols. Of course, the Law of God remains but it is no longer the most important thing, the rule of life; rather, it becomes a camouflage, a cover-up, while life follows other paths, other rules, interests that are often forms of egoism, both individual and collective.

Thus religion loses its authentic meaning, which is to live listening to God in order to do his will — that is the truth of our being — and thus we live well, in true freedom, and it is reduced to practising secondary customs which instead satisfy the human need to feel in God’s place. This is a serious threat to every religion which Jesus encountered in his time and which, unfortunately, is also to be found in Christianity. Jesus’ words against the scribes and Pharisees in today’s Gospel should therefore be food for thought for us as well.

Jesus makes his own the very words of the Prophet Isaiah: “This People honours me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the precepts of men” (Mk 7:6-7; cf. Is 29,13). And he then concludes: “You leave the commandment of God, and hold fast the tradition of men” (Mk 7:8).

The Apostle James too alerts us in his Letter to the danger of false piety. He writes to the Christians: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (Jas 1:22). May the Virgin Mary, to whom we now turn in prayer, help us to listen with an open and sincere heart to the word of God so that every day it may guide our thoughts, our decisions and our actions.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 2 September 2012]

1. "Lord, show us the Father" (Jn 14:8). In the culminating and concluding hour of the messianic activity of Jesus of Nazareth, on the eve of his passion and death on the cross, the Apostles gathered in the cenacle, and in particular Philip, ask the Master: "Lord, show us the Father". Jesus answers them: 'He who has seen me has seen the Father.... I am in the Father and the Father is in me" (Jn 14:9. 11). The disciples' last conversation with their Master is dense with profound content; in it the most profound elements of the Good News converge and are somehow encapsulated. During his earthly mission Jesus had continually spoken of the Father, he had always lived united with Him, in everything he had referred to Him. He, who is totally from Him and for Him, had commanded the disciples to pray to Him by calling Him: 'Our Father'. At the Last Supper, answering Philip's question, he says: "Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you, I do not speak them of myself; but the Father who is with me does his works... believe this by the works themselves" (John 14: 10-11).

2. Who is God? The answer to this question is undoubtedly paramount and fundamental to human life. The answers to the questions "Does God exist?" and "Who is God?" can be found in superabundance in the Good News enunciated by Christ. "The only-begotten Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, he has revealed him" (Jn 1:18). He has revealed God to us in his infinite glory. Although he always remains a mystery to us human beings, this God - Father, Son and Holy Spirit - allows us to call him by name. Already in the Old Covenant his Name was revealed to men: Yahweh, "He who is". In the Gospel revelation this Name of God, without losing its primordial identity, has in a certain sense been further opened to human intelligence: "He who is" is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Believers have thus been given to know through faith the inscrutable unity of the Trinity.

3. At the same time, this infinite and mysterious God in His only-begotten Son has drawn near to man in an ineffable way: in Him, the Word made flesh, God has become man. This is why man can now see God: "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9). But God has done even more: Christ, the Son of God, has come among men as the Way to the Father. He himself, who comes from the Father and returns to the Father through his cross and resurrection, becomes the Way for us all. Through Him, we too "go" to the Father: through Christ in the Holy Spirit. Through Him we can participate in the fullness of God's own Truth and Life: Yahweh, that is, "He who is" is precisely this absolute divine Fullness, which in Christ is shared with us. "No one comes to the Father except through me" (Jn 14:6), says Jesus. In Him, human life finds its ultimate end in God, who manifests Himself as the eternal "dwelling place" for man, whose existence on earth is like a pilgrimage in search of the Absolute. "In my Father's house there are many places" (Jn 14:2): therefore there are many who will dwell there. To the questions and difficulties of human intelligence, which before this statement wonders how this will be possible, Jesus replies: "If not, I would have told you. I am going to prepare a place for you...". (Jn 14:2). We are thus led to the summit of our faith and hope: Christ's messianic activity, which proclaims the Gospel of the Kingdom and fulfils the paschal mystery, constitutes a unique preparation for definitive communion with God. Through this salvific mission, the Son prepares a place for us in the Father's house. We are therefore all "called", that is, we are invited to dwell in the eternal dwellings, to participate in and enjoy that fullness of Truth and Life that is God himself.

4. The invitation to dwell in the eternal dwellings is addressed to all of us, dear Brothers and Sisters, gathered in this enchanting Valley, witness to the ancient and glorious Church of St Libertine. We stand before the largest complex of ancient temples still standing today. It speaks to us of the deep need for God present in the heart of humanity in every age and culture. And I am glad to be able to read and interpret with you this Johannine Gospel of today Sunday. I am glad that these ancient columns of Greek temples can hear the living voice of the Gospel, of Christian Revelation, after so many millennia. We are living, this evening, at the close of my visit to your Diocese, a special experience of faith and communion. Coming from the various regions of the Island, dear faithful, you have gathered together with the Successor of Peter to renew your adherence to Christ, the "cornerstone" that structures the whole edifice of God. You are the witnesses of Jesus, Way, Truth and Life of man in this Sicilian land. Your existence is called to become more and more an evangelical sign of reconciliation and resurrection.

5. When man opens himself to faith, he experiences that selfishness is replaced by altruism, hatred by love, revenge by forgiveness, greed by loving service, selfishness and individualism by solidarity, division by concord - as this ancient temple near Agrigento is called -, violence by mercy. This happens when man opens himself to faith. When, on the other hand, one rejects the Gospel and its message of salvation, a process of attrition of moral values is set in motion, which easily has negative repercussions on social life itself. Is this not perhaps the ultimate reason for the failure of a culture based on personal gain, which does not consider the real needs of people, especially the poorest, condemned to remain victims of the injustices of an increasingly competitive society with less and less solidarity? The real force capable of overcoming these destructive tendencies springs from faith. This, however, demands not only an intimate personal adherence, but also a courageous outward witness, expressed in a convinced condemnation of evil. It demands here, in your land, a clear reprobation of the culture of the Mafia, which is a culture of death, profoundly inhuman, anti-evangelical, an enemy of the dignity of persons and of civil coexistence.

6. The serious situations of poverty, which have caused so much suffering among your people, forcing a large number of men and women to separate from their dearest affections to emigrate to distant countries, have favoured the emergence and spread of real diseases in the social fabric, such as latifundialism and mafia phenomena. At the same time, however, many people, precisely in such difficult conditions, have learnt to suffer with dignity, to work with tenacity, and to never lose hope in God and man. Just as in past years the Sicilian people were able to overcome long and painful trials, so too today they have the necessary resources, together with the solidarity support of the Italian nation, to heal the current wounds, many of which are the fruit of atavistic social conditions. The Sicilian Church is called, today as in the past, to share the commitment, fatigue and risks of those who struggle, even at personal cost, to lay the foundations for a future of progress, justice and peace for the entire Island.

7. May divine grace sustain you, dear friends, in this fraternal and concerted effort. "Turn to us, O Lord; in you we hope" (Responsorial Psalm): the liturgy has had us repeat this confident invocation just now. We hope in the Lord: this is the firm certainty that sustains the steps of those who work for justice and peace. May this also be the comfort of all of you, living stones of the ancient edifice of the pilgrim Church of God in Sicily. With these sentiments I am happy to embrace in the Lord the dear Bishops of the Region, present here together with Cardinal Salvatore Pappalardo, Archbishop of Palermo. I greet in particular Monsignor Carmelo Ferraro, Pastor of the Diocese of Agrigento, which is hosting this solemn celebration. I cordially thank him for the courteous expressions he wished to address to me on your behalf. My thoughts turn then to the secular and regular Clergy, to the priests, to the men and women Religious, to the Members of secular Institutes and Societies of Apostolic Life, as well as to the Laity generously engaged in Christian life in the different fields, in the different vocations, in the different commitments. Finally, I address a special, affectionate thought to the sick, those who are present here and many others whom I wish to unite in my prayers and intentions. Then there are the young people. They have kept vigil all night. They should be tired and fatigued, but you cannot see it. You can see the strength. Where did this strength come from? I think it came from the Spirit that the Lord does not deny to those who pray to Him. And these young people prayed all night long. I wish you, dear friends, this strength, the strength for good, the strength to overcome the hardships, the moral illnesses of your land. The strength for a better future for Sicily. In this context, the words of the Apostle Peter ring true: 'You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people whom God has purchased to proclaim the wonderful works' (1 Pet 2:9) of the Lord. Be all of you apostles of the One who has called you out of darkness into his admirable light. This is the charge I leave you. Especially to you, young people, and to all you members of this splendid Christian community of Agrigento.

8. "I am the way, the truth and the life" (Jn 14:6): as he once spoke to the apostles, so Jesus speaks to us this evening. He adds: "I will take you with me, that you also may be where I am. And of the place where I go, you know the way" (John 14: 3-4), for: "I am going to the Father". We all, following Christ, his prayer, his Gospel, repeat tonight "Our Father". It is the prayer of our life. Not only do we strive to make the invocations of this prayer our own, but we want to love Christ, the only Way to the Father, with all our heart and life.

Lord Jesus, "show us the Father and that is enough for us" (John 14: 8).

Amen!

At the end of the Holy Mass, after the final Blessing, John Paul II pronounced these words in his own words (the transcription that follows is literal, therefore with some grammatical imperfections)

Dearly beloved,

I wish you, as the deacon said, to go in peace: to go in peace to find peace in your land.

Dearly beloved,

one does not easily forget such a celebration, in this Valley, against the backdrop of temples: temples from the Greek period that express this great culture and this great art and also this religiosity, the temples that are witnesses today to our Eucharistic celebration. And one has been named "Concordia": be this name emblematic, be it prophetic. Let there be concord in this land of yours! Concordia without death, without murder, without fear, without threats, without victims! Let there be concord! This concord, this peace to which every people and every family aspires! After so many times of suffering you finally have a right to live in peace. And these who are guilty of disturbing this peace, these who bear so many human victims on their consciences, they must understand, they must understand that innocent people are not allowed to be killed! God once said: 'Thou shalt not kill': no man, any, any human agglomeration, mafia, cannot change and trample on this most holy right of God!

This people, the Sicilian people, so attached to life, a people that loves life, that gives life, cannot always live under the pressure of an opposing civilisation, a civilisation of death. What is needed here is a civilisation of life! In the name of this Christ, crucified and risen, of this Christ who is life, the way, the truth and the life, I say to those responsible: convert! Once will come the judgement of God!

Dearly beloved,

thank you for your participation in this prayer that is so evocative, so profound, so participatory. I leave you with this greeting: Praised be Jesus Christ, the way, the truth and the life! Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, homily in the Valley of the Temples, Agrigento 9 May 1993]

11. “Each in his or her own way” the Council says. We should not grow discouraged before examples of holiness that appear unattainable. There are some testimonies that may prove helpful and inspiring, but that we are not meant to copy, for that could even lead us astray from the one specific path that the Lord has in mind for us. The important thing is that each believer discern his or her own path, that they bring out the very best of themselves, the most personal gifts that God has placed in their hearts (cf. 1 Cor 12:7), rather than hopelessly trying to imitate something not meant for them. We are all called to be witnesses, but there are many actual ways of bearing witness. Indeed, when the great mystic, Saint John of the Cross, wrote his Spiritual Canticle, he preferred to avoid hard and fast rules for all. He explained that his verses were composed so that everyone could benefit from them “in his or her own way”. For God’s life is communicated “to some in one way and to others in another”.

[Gaudete et Exsultate].

Furthermore, pastors and lay people accompanying their brothers and sisters in the faith or on a path of openness to God must always remember what the Catechism of the Catholic Church clearly states: 'Imputability and responsibility for an action can be diminished or even nullified by ignorance, unawareness, coercion, fear, habit, excessive attachment, and other psychological or social factors. Consequently, without departing from the evangelical ideal, they must accompany with patience and mercy through the various stages of personal growth when these occur. I want to remind priests that the confessional should not be a torture chamber, but rather a place of encounter with God's mercy that spurs us on to do our best. A small step, in the midst of our human limitations, can please God more than a life that is apparently perfect, but proceeds without ever encountering great difficulties.

[Pope Francis, in:

https://www.spaziosacro.com/node/186126]

From the ancient dream to the embodied relationship

(Jn 1:45-51)

People are convinced by meeting, seeing and experiencing, not by imposing. However, the Eternal plan baffles us.

Witness and sharing lead persons to Christ, but they are not enough - because his plan is not as people imagine or propose, as they await and desires it to be.

To the enthusiastic announcement, Nathanael responds with a preconceived skepticism that represents us: what good can come out of the most insignificant suburbs (v.46)?

Why does not the solution to our expectations come from predictable places [Judaea]?

Personal encounter with Jesus and listening to his Word go beyond every obstacle, up to an explicit and convinced profession of Faith.

And like Nathanael, whoever consecrates his life to the study of the Scriptures finds in them Christ himself (vv.45.48-49).

At first perhaps we too approached the Son of God imagining that he had the attributes of King of a chosen people (v.49).

Then the custom with the Person and the vital experience [«Come and see»: sense of the basic Semitic expression of v.46] showed us a much broader Relationship with Heaven (vv.50-51).

In walking the Way that the unexpected Messiah proposes, we perceive the convergence of God’s movement towards men and our longing for him.

It is the realization (and overcoming) of Jacob’s ancient dream.

Those who pursue preconceptions remain to take the cool under a fig tree (cf.v.48), ie he remains linked to the ancient religion [the rabbis taught the ancient Scriptures sitting under the trees; the fig tree was symbol of Israel].

«Israelite without deceit» (v.47): each one is so when, after sifting, he knows how to get rid of common opinions and teachings; when he realizes that they do not coincide with the Father’s plan.

Salvation history aims at «greater things» (v.50) than those already wanted; normal, expected, invoked, calculated, longed for.

From religiosity we will move on to Faith: the best of God’s Dream in us must come. «Greater things» than clichés.

Jesus is Jacob’s authentic Dream, which heralded to a vast lineage; further unfolded (Gen 28:10-22) and become reality.

But no one would have expected that the Messiah could identify himself with the «Son of Man» (v.51), the One who creates abundance where it is not there, and that before did not seem licit it could expand.

The new bond between God and human beings is in the Brother who becomes ‘next of kin’: which creates an atmosphere of humanization with wide outlines - not at all discriminating.

‘True, successful Son’ is the one who, having reached the maximum of human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it in a widespread way - not selective as expected.

It is the flowering and humanization of the people: the peaceful, true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

«Son of Man» is therefore not a stowed, cautious, controlled and reserved title, but an opportunity for all those who adhere to the Lord’s proposal, and reinterpret life in a creative personal way.

They go beyond the firm boundaries, making room for the Gift; welcoming from the Grace fullness of being, in its new unrepeatable tracks.

[St. Bartholomew, Apostle.  August 24]

From the ancient dream to the incarnate relationship

(Jn 1:45-51)

Today's liturgy presents the first encounter with the Lord of Nathanael, whom some traditions identify as the apostle Bartholomew.

The purpose of the call is to follow Jesus; let us see the concatenation of events. First of all: people are convinced by encountering, seeing and experiencing, not by imposing.

But the plan of the Eternal displaces us. Witnessing and sharing lead to Christ, but they are not enough - because his plan is not what people imagine or propose, what they expect and desire it to be.

To the enthusiastic announcement of Philip [a name of Greek origin], Nathanael [from the Hebrew Netan'El: "God has given"] responds with a preconceived scepticism that represents us: what good can come out of the most insignificant peripheries (v.46)?

How is it that the solution to our expectations does not come from the palaces of power, from the exceptional magnificence of the Holy City, or from the established and selective doctrinal prestige of the observant territory (Judea)?

Nazareth was a negligible village of hotheads and troglodyte Galileans; Jesus a carpenter-carpenter, so he did not even have land.

The expectation of the Messiah was anchored to quite other manifestations of prestige, wealth, pomp and power (substitutes for the authentic experience of relationship and fullness of being).

The personal encounter with Jesus and listening to his Word conquered every obstacle, up to an explicit and convinced profession of Faith.

And like Nathanael, he who consecrates his life to the study of the Scriptures finds Christ in them (vv.45.48-49).

At first perhaps we too approached the Son of God imagining that he had the attributes of King of a chosen people (v.49).

Then the familiarity with the Person and the vital experience ["Come and see": sense of the basic Semitic expression of v.46] showed us a much wider Relationship with Heaven (vv.50-51).

In walking the Way that the unexpected Messiah proposes, we grasp the convergence of God's movement towards mankind and our yearning for Him. It is the realisation (and overcoming) of Jacob's ancient dream.

Those who pursue preconceptions remain to take the cool under the fig tree (cf. v.48), that is, they remain tied to the ancient religion [the rabbis taught the ancient scriptures by sitting under the trees; the fig tree was a symbol of Israel].

By dwelling in expectations of magnificence and allowing ourselves to be carried away by standard intentions of expected glory, we do not enter into the movement that binds our land to Love: we find ourselves growing old, bogged down and barren - unable to generate new creatures and be born again.

"Israelite without deceit" (v.47): each one is when - having sifted - he knows how to discard common opinions and teachings; when he realises that they do not agree with the Father's plan for us.

The history of salvation aims at "greater things" (v.50) than those already desired; normal, foreseen, invoked, calculated and hoped for (transmitted by doctrines and "teachers" such and such).

Even the Design of Providence is not as people imagine or wish it to be. There are situations that no one has ever seen.

"God has given" [meaning of the proper name Nathanael], but each one must be born again.

From Nathanael each believer makes Exodus to transmigrate to the meaning of the name Bartholomew: "Son of the well-ploughed field and of the earth with abundant furrows".

From religiosity we pass to Faith: the best of God's Dream in us is to come. "Greater things" than platitudes.

Jesus is the authentic Dream of Jacob, which foreshadowed a vast descendants; further unfolded (Gen 28:10-22) and become reality.

But no one would have expected that the Messiah could be identified with the "Son of Man" (v.51), the One who creates abundance where there is none - and it did not seem permissible before to expand.

The new bond between God and human beings is in the Brother who becomes the 'next of kin', who creates an atmosphere of humanisation with broad contours - not at all discriminating.

"The 'Son of Man' is the one who, having reached the highest human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it widely - not selectively as expected.

Successful Son: the Person with the definitive step, who in us aspires to the most dilated fullness in events and relationships, to an indestructible carat within each one who approaches [and encounters divine marks].

It is growth and humanisation of the people: the quiet, true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

"Son of Man" is therefore not a religious, guarded, controlled and reserved title, but an opportunity for all those who adhere to the Lord's proposal, and reinterpret life in a personal creative way.

They overcome their own firm and summary boundaries, making room for the Gift; receiving from Grace fullness of being and character, in its new, unrepeatable tracks.Feeling totally and undeservedly friends, we discover other facets... we change the way we are with ourselves, and the way we read history.

In short, we can grow, realise ourselves, blossom, radiate the completeness we have received - without any more closures.

On this Path, every day we perceive the same impulse that brought Nathanael to Jesus: an unparalleled instinct of Presence [Michael: Who like God?], a liberation of the shrunken consciousness [Raphael: God healed - Rescuer], an awe-inspiring unveiling [Gabriel: Strength of God].

In short, on new adventures to be undertaken, the invisible world has a special relationship with humanity and creation.

In soul and in things, we are as it were guided on the right path (in an unceasing, growing, unexpected way) even through our anxieties, rebellions, crises and doubts.

From Son of David to Son of Man

The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces the whole of humanity in his mission of salvation. While Jesus' mission in his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Mt 15:24), it was nevertheless oriented from the beginning to bring the light of the Gospel to all peoples and to bring all nations into the Kingdom of God. Confronted with the faith of the Centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: "Now I tell you that many will come from the east and the west and sit down at table with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 8:11). This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from the presentation Jesus made of himself not only as "Son of David", but as "son of man" (Mk 10:33), as we also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title "Son of Man", in the language of the Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), recalls the person who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds an entirely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to Himself to manifest the true character of His messianism, as a mission destined for the whole man and every man, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters into this new kingdom, which the Church announces and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion".

[Pope Benedict, address to the Consistory 24 November 2012]