The Transfiguration of the Lord (year A)  [6 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Daniel (7:9–10, 13–14) 

The text recounts a vision of the prophet Daniel, written during the persecution of the Jews by Antiochus IV Epiphanes in the 2nd century BC. Its purpose is to encourage and console the suffering people. Daniel first sees God, depicted as an ‘Ancient of Days’ seated on a throne of fire, surrounded by millions of servants. It is an image of justice and victory: God is about to judge the persecutors and bring justice to the faithful. Next, the ‘Son of Man’ appears; he is brought before God on the clouds of heaven and receives power, glory and an eternal kingdom. It resembles a scene of a messianic coronation.

Who is the Son of Man? The explanation given in the text of Daniel itself is surprising: the Son of Man does not initially represent a single person, but the ‘people of the saints of the Most High’, that is, Israel faithful to God, especially that small group which remains faithful during persecution. The message is therefore clear: today you are oppressed, but God will grant you victory and his Kingdom will be eternal. After their deliverance from persecution, many Jews continued to interpret this prophecy as referring to the future. Some began to await not an individual Messiah, but a collective Messiah: the faithful people of Israel, called precisely the ‘Son of Man’. And here is the new insight brought by Jesus. Jesus of Nazareth takes up the title ‘Son of Man’, but gives it a deeper meaning: it does not simply refer to ‘a man’, but to the whole of humanity; Jesus applies it to himself more than eighty times in the Gospels; he unites two aspects that were separate in Daniel: glory and suffering. For Jesus, the Son of Man is not merely the glorious King who receives the Kingdom, but also the one who suffers, is rejected and dies before entering into glory. After the Resurrection, the disciples realise that Jesus is both man and God. He is the head of a new humanity, and all those united to him form one body. Therefore, Daniel’s prophecy is fully fulfilled in Christ and in his people: believers are called to share in his kingship and his glory.

This, then, is the central message: God created humanity to share in his dignity and his Kingdom. Suffering and persecution do not have the final say: the ultimate destiny of the faithful is to share in God’s victory and his eternal kingdom.

Responsorial Psalm (96/97) 

A constant struggle against idolatry: this could be the commentary on Psalm 96/97 (‘The Lord reigns’) to highlight a fundamental theme of the Bible: the constant struggle against idolatry and the affirmation that there is only one God.

When the psalm proclaims: ‘The Lord is King; let the earth rejoice’, it affirms that God is the one true sovereign of the universe. The expressions: ‘You reign above all gods; let all gods bow down before him’, do not mean that there are other inferior gods, but that all false deities and idols are nothing in the face of the one God of Israel.

In the Jewish faith, the fundamental principle is: ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is the one and only Lord.’ Israel always lived in close contact with polytheistic peoples and was often tempted to adopt their cults. For this reason, the prophets denounced the people’s unfaithfulness, comparing it to that of a wife who betrays her husband. However, alongside their rebuke, they always proclaimed God’s forgiveness and mercy. The text recalls that the first chapter of the Book of Genesis was written in contrast to the religious beliefs of Babylon. Whilst Babylonian myths spoke of many gods fighting amongst themselves and of humanity created to be slaves, the Bible affirms that: there is only one God;  creation is good; man and woman are created in the image of God; human beings are called to rule over creation and not to be its slaves. Even the sun and the moon are not named, to prevent them from being worshipped as deities: they are simply ‘luminaries’ in the service of life. God, Lord of the universe, and the psalm describes God’s manifestation with majestic imagery: fire, lightning, clouds, earthquakes, mountains melting like wax. These images recall Moses’ theophany on Mount Sinai and serve to demonstrate divine power and majesty. A universal message of joy emerges, and the expression ‘The Lord is King; let the earth rejoice’

means that God’s kingdom concerns not only Israel, but all humanity.

Indeed, the Bible always combines two ideas: the election of Israel and the salvation intended for all peoples. God’s plan is universal and oriented towards joy, justice and peace. Finally, the psalm invites us to believe that God guides history towards a future of peace and happiness for all. Even when the world seems dominated by wars, violence and injustice, the believer is called to maintain hope and to work together so that God’s plan may be realised. The commentary’s final observation is very practical: peace and joy are possible, but we must truly desire them. In other words, it is not enough simply to wait for God to intervene: we must also commit ourselves personally to building a more just and fraternal world.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (1:16–19)

The central theme of this passage could be summarised as follows: ‘Remain steadfast in the faith and beware of false prophets’, which may be regarded as Peter’s spiritual testament. The Second Letter of Peter resembles a farewell address: as he is about to depart, the one who is leaving recalls the fundamental truths that have inspired him and offers guidance for the future to those who have gathered around his testimony.  The verses presented here serve as an introduction to the entire letter and summarise its main themes: 1) remain steadfast in your faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God; 2) beware of false prophets. All this without losing sight of the horizon of faith: the hope of Christ’s return. Above all: remain steadfast in your faith in Jesus, the Son of God.  At the time of Jesus’ birth, it would never have occurred to anyone that God could have a Son; the one God was solitary. When John the Baptist heard the voice from heaven designating Jesus as the Son, he certainly interpreted it as ‘Messiah’; for, traditionally, the king of Israel received the title ‘Son of God’ on the day of his coronation, with the words ‘You are my Son; today I have begotten you’ (Ps 2:7). For Jewish believers, to call oneself the Son of God was a lie, a claim to authority, or even blasphemy. It was one of the reasons for Jesus’ condemnation (Mark 14:64). Gradually, much later, as they meditated on the mystery of Christ in the light of the Resurrection, the apostles discovered this unexpected truth: Jesus is truly the Son of God; he is God. The event of the Transfiguration now appears in full light: Christ ‘received honour and glory from God the Father; a voice came to him from the majestic glory: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”’  

Now, throughout the Old Testament, glory is the prerogative of God: for example, ‘Give to the Lord the glory due to his name’ (Ps 28/29:2) . Yet, according to Matthew and Mark, the voice from heaven at the Transfiguration said nothing different from what it said at the Baptism; what changes is precisely the glory that envelops Jesus at the Transfiguration: he is alone on the mountain, surrounded only by the two greatest figures of the Old Testament; at the Baptism he was immersed in the crowd, mingled with the people of sinners. It is the same Jesus whom the disciples have come to know little by little—the Son of Man, certainly, but also the Son of God. Moreover, this faith does not betray their previous faith. For the disciples, this renewed faith is not a betrayal of their past faith: none of them thinks they have changed religion by recognising in Jesus the Messiah so long awaited by his people. On the contrary, by re-reading the Scriptures, they discover that Jesus is precisely the one whom they foretold.  

Hence Peter’s words: ‘Thus we have confirmation of the prophetic word’, and his advice to the readers: ‘You would do well to pay close attention to it, as to a lamp shining in a dark place.’ A beautiful image: in the darkness of humanity awaiting its Saviour, the light of the prophets is already shining. From now on, Christians must always remember this Word that foretold Jesus. Another important point: beware of false prophets. If Peter speaks in this way, it is because his fear was not unfounded, and many passages in the New Testament express the same concern. For example, 

we read in the Gospel of Matthew: ‘Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves. ‘You will recognise them by their fruits’ (7:15–16).  The same issue recurs in John’s letters: ‘Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world’ (1 John 4:1).  And Paul also speaks of this: “The Spirit plainly states that in the last days some will fall away from the faith, following deceiving spirits and the teachings of demons” (1 Tim 4:1); “The time will come when people will no longer endure sound teaching, but, having an itch to hear something, they will gather around themselves a multitude of teachers… and turn to myths” (2 Tim 4:3–4).  Faced with these false prophets stand the authentic witnesses, those who have known Jesus of Nazareth and who alone have the right to speak. This concern for the authenticity of witness is a constant theme among the first apostles, and in Peter in particular. Hence the conditions for choosing Judas’s replacement (cf. Acts 1:21–22). Hence, too, Peter’s insistence on his presence at the Transfiguration: “We were eyewitnesses of his majesty… We ourselves heard this voice coming from heaven whilst we were with him on the holy mountain”.  It is because they were witnesses to the coming of the Son of God amongst men that his apostles can now, with full confidence, await his coming at the end of time ‘until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts’ (2 Peter 1:19).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (17:1–9)

Two essential points emerge from this text: the choice of witnesses and the Mount of the Transfiguration: Jesus took Peter, James and his brother John with him: once again we are faced with the mystery of God’s choices. Shortly before, at Caesarea, Jesus had said to Peter: ‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it’ (Mt 16:18). But Peter, entrusted with this crucial mission, is not alone with Jesus: he is accompanied by the two brothers, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. ‘And he led them aside to a high mountain’: on a high mountain, Moses had received the revelation of the God of the Covenant and had been given the tablets of the Law—that law which was to gradually teach the people of the Covenant to live in the love of God and of their brothers and sisters. On that same mountain, Elijah had received the revelation of the God of tenderness in the gentle breeze… Moses and Elijah, the two pillars of the Old Testament. On the high mountain of the Transfiguration, Peter, James and John—the pillars of the Church—receive the revelation of the God of tenderness incarnate in Jesus: ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ And this revelation is given to strengthen their faith before the storm of the Passion. Peter would later write: ‘We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty’ (2 Peter 1:16–18).  ‘Let us make three tents’: this remark by Peter suggests that the episode of the Transfiguration took place during the Feast of Tabernacles, or at least within the atmosphere of the feast celebrated in remembrance of the journey through the desert during the Exodus and of the Covenant made with God. During the feast, many psalms celebrated the messianic promises and implored God to hasten his coming. On the Mount of the Transfiguration, the three apostles suddenly find themselves faced with this revelation of the mystery of Jesus: it is hardly surprising that they are seized by the fear that grips every person in the presence of the holy God. Nor is it surprising that Jesus lifts their spirits and reassures them: the Old Testament had already revealed to the people of the Covenant that the Most Holy God is the God who is very close to humankind, and that there is no cause for fear. But this revelation of the mystery of the Messiah, in all its aspects, is not yet within everyone’s grasp; Jesus commands them not to tell anyone for the time being, until the Son of Man has risen from the dead. By uttering these words, Jesus confirms the revelation the three disciples have just received: he is truly the Messiah whom the prophet Daniel saw in the likeness of a man, coming on the clouds of heaven (cf. Dan 7:13–14). It should be remembered that Daniel himself presents the Son of Man not as a solitary individual, but as a people, whom he calls the people of the saints of the Most High. The fulfilment is even more beautiful than the promise: in Jesus, the God-Man, it is the whole of humanity that will receive this eternal kingship and be eternally transfigured. But Jesus was right to say: ‘Tell no one anything before the Resurrection…’ Only after Jesus’ resurrection will the apostles be able to bear witness to it.

Note: The Greek text begins with ‘Six days later’: this is understood to mean ‘six days after Yom Kippur’, the Day of Atonement. It invites us to imagine a connection with the Feast of Tabernacles, hence Peter’s suggestion: ‘Let us make three tents here.’ Furthermore, why are Moses and Elijah present? The very same two who received the revelation of the Father on Mount Sinai now receive the revelation of the Son here. The mosaic in the Basilica of the Transfiguration at St Catherine’s Monastery in Sinai confirms this interpretation: Moses is depicted barefoot, his sandals untied beside him, as he was before the burning bush (cf. Ex 3).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)  [2 August 2016]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (55:1–3)

We have reached the end of the second book of Isaiah, which is entirely focused on the end of the Exile and the return to the Promised Land, and is therefore called ‘the book of the consolation of Israel’. Chapter 54 heralds the long-awaited return, and this chapter specifies the spirit in which we are to return. Four major themes are evoked. The first theme is the gratuitous nature of God’s gifts: ‘Come, buy without paying’. Sometimes, it is precisely this gratuitousness that is the hardest to accept. We tend to think of merits and dignity that must be regained in order to stand before God, whilst mercy bends down to repentant sinners. Isaiah declares: ‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways’ (55:8–9).    Voltaire used to say: “God made man in his own image, and man has done him a fine job of it.” He was right, because we sometimes imagine a God with the same feelings as our own – one who takes revenge and punishes – whereas in the Bible, God always shows such an abundance that is entirely free and generous that we might say that in God’s supermarket, everything is always free. But if everything is free, can we do as we please? Certainly not, because if we are touched by God’s love, our hearts change and we begin to resemble him. In a society founded more on commerce than on service, Christians must nurture the kingdom of gratuitousness, for if we stray from the path of gratuitousness, we are far from God’s ways. The second theme is the struggle against idolatry, a temptation that constantly resurfaces. Only God holds the keys to our happiness and freedom, and with Him, everything is given. We simply need to trust. The third theme is listening and trust – ‘Give ear and you shall live’  ‘Give ear and come to me; listen and you shall live’ (55:3). We lend an ear to so much commercial advertising; why, then, does this message from Isaiah – spoken in God’s name and marked by gratuitousness – fail to convince us? The way of gratuitousness stands above our ways of calculation and ‘quid pro quo’. Fourth theme: God’s faithfulness to the Covenant, another key theme in the sermons of Second Isaiah: the exiles feared they would be abandoned by God forever, yet His love is entirely gratuitous and unconditional, and He never calls His Covenant into question; indeed, He renews it at every moment.  

Responsorial Psalm (144/145)

Psalm 144/145 is an alphabetic psalm of praise for the Covenant. This Sunday’s first reading speaks of the gratuitousness and abundance of God’s gifts; this psalm says nothing other than this!  It is an alphabetic, acrostic psalm: it has as many verses as there are letters in the Hebrew alphabet, with each verse beginning with a different letter of the alphabet. This style of composition has a specific, consistent purpose: to express to God the believers’ gratitude for the gift of the Covenant. It is therefore no surprise to find in this psalm a reference to all aspects of the Covenant: the extraordinary discovery of a God who is both almighty and close to humankind. The Book of Wisdom made this clear: ‘You, Lord, who possess power, judge with gentleness; you rule us with great forbearance, for when you wish, you can use your power’ (12:16–18). Even before the Book of Wisdom, other Old Testament texts had powerfully proclaimed God’s greatness and goodness. At the outset, verse 8 of the psalm echoes God’s revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai: ‘The Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness’ (Ex 34:6); the burning bush: Exodus 3:1–6 presents a twofold revelation: God reveals himself to Moses in the burning bush whilst he was tending the flock of Jethro, his father-in-law, the priest of Midian (cf. Exodus 3:7). He always reveals himself to be compassionate and merciful = literally ‘a heart open to our miseries’, who takes the side of those in distress. Moses, who had previously veiled his face, realises that he need not be afraid. ‘My people’ is a reference to the Covenant with the people dating back to Abraham. Just as God had seen the misery of Abraham, an elderly man without children, so He has seen the misery of His people. In conclusion, this psalm, like the account of the Exodus, is important for the faith of Israel and therefore for our own: it reveals the dual nature of God as both the Wholly Other and the Wholly Near. He is the Wholly Other, to whom one approaches only with awe and reverence, and at the same time the Wholly Near, who sees the misery of his people and raises up a liberator. In the verses chosen from Psalm 144/145 for this Sunday, the emphasis is placed on this tenderness of God, a conviction that forever nourishes the faith of the Jewish people and our own, just as it filled the heart of Jesus of Nazareth.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:35, 37–39)

 Nothing can ever separate us from the love of God: this statement brings to a close Chapter 8, which we have been reading for several weeks, in which Paul marvels at God’s love. In Chapter 5 he had said: ‘The love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit’ (Rom 5:5). Here he gives free rein to the exultation that fills the hearts of believers when they realise God’s work on their behalf: ‘God, who did not spare his own Son, but handed him over for us all’ (Rom 8:32). From now on, no one can break the covenant so closely bound between God and us. As the first Eucharistic Prayer of Reconciliation states, ‘with your arms outstretched on the cross, you have drawn between heaven and earth the indelible sign of the covenant’. From now on, every attempt at separation is doomed to failure. Paul takes up one of the major themes of Scripture: the very stake of the lives of the children of Adam is to remain attached to God, without allowing themselves to be separated from him by the Tempter. In the wilderness, Jesus faced the onslaught of the Tempter, who tempted him with power, ease and honours. Peter himself tempted Jesus to flee from the inevitable persecution. But nothing—neither hunger nor the mirages of success—could separate the Son from the Father. In turn, Paul and the other apostles draw from the Spirit of Christ the strength to remain grafted onto him. Paul offers us here a great profession of faith: ‘For I am convinced that neither death nor life… nor anything else will ever be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord’ (Rom 8:38–39). This is not pride, but the certainty of faith: Paul does not for a moment consider that the credit for this faithfulness lies with him. When he states, ‘In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us’, the key word is ‘through’ him. His declaration resembles that of the prophet Isaiah concerning the Servant of God: ‘The Lord God helps me; therefore I shall not be disgraced’ (Isaiah 50:7). 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (14:13–21)

The episode of the multiplication of the loaves follows immediately after the announcement of John the Baptist’s execution. Matthew recounts John’s death and concludes: ‘His disciples went and took his body, buried it, and went to tell Jesus’ (14:12).  Jesus’s first reaction, which appears to be prudence, is to withdraw: “On hearing this, Jesus got into a boat and withdrew to a deserted place by himself” (14:13). But he is immediately overtaken by the crowd’s pleas and “he had compassion on them” – literally, “he was moved to the depths of his being”, as Matthew puts it. Humanly speaking, Jesus commits an act of reckless folly. It was politically imprudent because the wise course of action at that moment would have been to keep a low profile, since his popularity would attract the hatred of the Pharisee leaders; it was folly because it was senseless to believe that five loaves and two fish would be enough to feed such a crowd. The disciples, being realists, pointed this out to him, but Jesus replied, unperturbed: ‘You yourselves give them something to eat’ (14:16). This episode brings to mind the prophet Elisha, in the Northern Kingdom, 800 years earlier, whose story was known to all. In the midst of a famine, a faithful follower had brought an offering of the first fruits of the harvest: twenty barley loaves that would normally have been Elisha’s due, but he, given the circumstances, decided to share them with everyone. Twenty loaves were too many for a single prophet, but they were a pittance for the hungry people around him: the text says there were a hundred people. Elisha had told his servant, ‘Give it to the people to eat’, but the servant could see that the numbers didn’t add up: ‘How can I set this before a hundred people?’.  And the prophet insisted: ‘Give it to the people to eat. For thus says the Lord: “They shall eat and there will be some left over.”’ And the servant distributed it: ‘They ate and there was some left over, according to the word of the Lord’ (2 Kings 4:42–44). In this miracle, too, we note the disparity between the number of diners, the few loaves and fish available, and the amount of leftovers collected. Matthew is keen to point out: ‘They all ate and were satisfied; and they carried away twelve baskets full of the fragments’ (14:20). What do Jesus and Elisha have in common? What is their secret? First of all, both believe that sharing is possible, whatever the number of diners, because both place their trust in God. They also share the mention of the leftovers and the precise statement that ‘everyone ate their fill’. This miracle brings to mind the gift of manna in the Book of Exodus: ‘I will satisfy you with bread, and you shall know that I am the Lord your God’ (Ex 16:12). Jesus, as the evangelist writes, had gone off to a deserted place on the outskirts in search of some peace and quiet, but he agrees to let himself be found, to draw near to the people, and this leads him to commit the ‘foolish recklessness’ I mentioned at the beginning. Disciples of all ages are in turn invited to nurture this reckless folly: in other words, it is enough to have faith to remember that sharing works miracles. And we must learn to rejoice in our own poverty, for it is the privileged place where God acts. When we recognise our powerlessness, we call upon God for help, and this is always the first thing to do. Whilst the first reading, taken from Isaiah, proclaims the abundance and gratuitousness of God’s gifts, Jesus’ multiplication of the loaves is a magnificent illustration of this.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Pure and impure: God's Law or formal blindness

(Mt 15:1-2.10-14)

The invisible Friend in us is the only Guide that should be followed with care and punctiliousness.

The only Master of Spirit who understands the different and does not harass him/her - because He does not use us.

Here comes the 'law or customs' paradox: «Why do you also transgress the Commandment of God in the name of your Tradition?» (v.3).

Sure, habits normalize manners.

Over time, mechanically fulfilled customs lose the sense of the Commandments from which they sprang.

And the vacuous standards then ruin life (vv.4-9), irritate, exacerbate tempers.

The purity laws discriminated against people and filled them with resentment.

Instead, no exclusivism is to be introduced at the Eucharistic Banquet. Nor are we to be part of the Lord's Community on the basis of artificial selections.

The ablution of the hands up to the elbows was customary practice, proclaiming the detachment of the Judaizers from the pagan world: a kind of rite celebrating the separation of the (supposedly) pure from the impure.

The 'breaking of the bread', on the other hand, is accessed without rigmarole or discipline of the arcane, nor prior x-rays.

All are welcome, because it is the encounter with God that makes humanity of all cultural backgrounds alive and healthy.

Christ opens a completely new Way, to bring ordinary people closer to a greater balance, animated by spousal, creative trust.

For Jesus, access to the Father is immediate and gratuitous.

In the area of Faith, it is Life that conquers death.

According to customary religiosity, it is conversely the germ of death that contaminates purity.

In this prison of screwed-up ideas, people lived with the fear of sin and transgressions (even unintentional ones) - just always stucked on to everybody.

In order to free the oppressed masses from the archaic ideology that subjected them to a daily barrage on all aspects of life, Jesus is forced to overthrow the 'in-out' hierarchy (v.11).

Spiritual leaders inculcated the idea that impurity came from without, and was so incisive as to contaminate even holy people [even for a mere rubbing - let alone the masses destined for an ordinary existence of deprivation].

Instead, Jesus makes us feel good: He reverses the virtues on the field. The Lord does so, well aware of the power of Life.

In doing so, He places the debate on 'pure or impure' at another level: of depth, behaviour, and relationship.

Father, Son, Spirit, emancipate us from corporate attitudes and from always being on the defensive; to restore our self-esteem, joy in life, and make us feel adequate, as in a Hearth.

His aim is to let us live intensely, with the perception that it is He in ourselves who is guiding the rudder; wisely, rather than letting us end up badly - as in the same, usual mass grave (v.14).

[Tuesday 18th wk. in O.T. (year A),  August 4, 2026]

(Mt 15:1–2, 10–14)

The encyclical Fratelli Tutti invites us to take a forward-looking perspective that inspires decision and action: a new way of seeing, filled with hope.

It ‘speaks to us of a reality that is rooted in the depths of the human being, regardless of the concrete circumstances and historical conditions in which they live. It speaks to us of a thirst, an aspiration, a yearning for fulfilment, for a life well-lived, for engaging with what is great, with what fills the heart and lifts the spirit towards great things, such as truth, goodness and beauty, justice and love. [...] Hope is bold; it knows how to look beyond personal comfort, the petty certainties and consolations that narrow the horizon, in order to open itself up to great ideals that make life more beautiful and dignified’ (no. 55; from an Address to young people in Havana, September 2015).

The Invisible Friend within us is the only Guide whom we should follow with prudence and diligence.

The sole Spiritual Teacher who understands diversity and does not harass it – because he does not use us (to promote himself or his own group).

The paradox of Law versus Tradition is found in verse 3 – initially included, then excluded from the Liturgy: ‘Why do you also transgress the Commandment of God in the name of your Tradition?’.

Habits normalise behaviour.

Over time, customs carried out mechanically cause us to lose sight of the meaning of the Commandments from which they sprang.

And hollow moral customs then ruin lives (vv. 4–9), cause annoyance and inflame tempers.

The laws of purity discriminated against people and filled them with resentment.

Instead, exclusivism must not be introduced at the Eucharistic Banquet. Nor does one belong to the Lord’s Community on the basis of ambiguous criteria.

The washing of hands up to the elbows was a customary practice, proclaiming the Judaizers’ detachment from the pagan world: a sort of rite celebrating the separation between the (supposedly) pure and the impure.

Access to the Eucharist, on the other hand, is without any secret rites or disciplines, nor any prior scrutiny.

Everyone is warmly welcomed, for it is the Encounter with God that makes humanity—whatever its cultural background—alive and whole.

For Jesus, access to the Father cannot be regulated: it depends on the individual and their life circumstances.

Communion with God is therefore immediate and free, entirely devoid of any prior conditions of perfection.

According to him, children may appear before the Father in any situation, at any time or in any manner: in a relationship of immediacy and freedom. 

Only a poor quality of relationship with one’s neighbour can taint a man or a woman; nothing else.

There are no other obligations or fears that can haunt us with feelings of imperfection, inadequacy or unworthiness.

Conversely, people lived in a climate of obsession, overwhelmed by fears about details that were of no concern to God.

And amidst the vibrancy of Semitic culture, there was certainly a current more attuned to the social and practical realities of life [linked to the theology of the prophets and the Psalms] which gave rise to Jesus of Nazareth.

A growing number of the faithful no longer agreed with the legalistic teaching of the official leaders.

Furthermore, the expectation of the Messiah helped them to hope for a path of ‘purity’ linked to the quality of life and to concrete relationships.

Christ opens up a completely new Way, to bring ordinary people closer to a greater balance; to an understanding and communion with the Father, animated by a spousal, creative trust.

Within the realm of Faith, it is Life that conquers death.

According to conventional religious thinking, it is, on the contrary, the seed of death that taints purity.

Trapped in this prison of misguided ideas, people lived in constant fear of sin and transgressions (even unintentional ones) that seemed to cling to them at all times.

To free the oppressed masses from the moralistic and devotional ideology that subjected them to a daily barrage across all aspects of life, Jesus found himself compelled to overturn the ‘inside-outside’ hierarchy (v. 11).

The spiritual leaders instilled the idea that impurity came from the outside, and was so pervasive that it could contaminate even holy people [even through a mere brush – let alone the masses destined for an ordinary existence of deprivation].

Jesus, on the other hand, makes us feel at ease.

He turns the tables, fully aware of the power of Life – and shifts the debate on purity and impurity to another level: that of depth, behaviour and relationship.

Even today, Faith instils in us balance and complete trust in the providential tide of true Grace, which, even in this time of rebirth from crisis, comes to revitalise us with its unexpected impulses – far from being merely religious or sterile.

It ceaselessly opens up new paths, to enable us to realise our potential and reach God. 

Father, Son and Holy Spirit free us from group-think and from always being on the defensive; to restore our self-esteem, our joy of living, and to make us feel as though we are in a ‘Focolare’.

In short, Christ’s teaching is Good News precisely because it is the exact opposite of established conventions.

Its aim is to let us live life to the full, with the sense that it is He within us who is at the helm. And to do so more wisely, rather than letting us come to a bad end – as if in the same old mass grave [v.14; where only a few contrived positions of leadership and manipulation are spared – which make no sense to us].

Towards a transparent way of living together

Jesus and the obsession with ruling: the blind and those made blind

[cf. Lk 6:39–45]

‘Leave them alone! They are blind guides. But if a blind man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit’ (Mt 15:14).

‘How much our human family needs to learn to live together in harmony and peace without all of us having to be the same!’ (Pope Francis, FT no. 100).

To live in a fraternal and wise manner, it is not enough simply to be together in twos, threes, tens or more: we could be like so many blind people who do not know how to be at peace with themselves.

In that case, our relationships become superficial and can turn hollow – filled only with judgements: harsh, stubborn and narrow-minded.

Then resentment arises within us, at being forced into a constricting space that does not suit us.

The inevitable unease begins to subside if and when the very person leading the group or company lives out their role with extreme modesty, with an awareness of their own limitations.

The Way of the Spirit is, in fact, a vocational initiative and response to the need for an authentic Guide.

Authentic shepherds help only when they question themselves before questioning others, when they do not become entangled in an exercise of vacuous indoctrination and moralising that exasperates people and causes irritation.

Thus, the inner Friend who unfailingly guides souls does indeed wish to be reflected in the ‘masters’ – but only to the extent that they lead us to encounter ourselves and the wisdom of Scripture (rather than indulging in their own megalomaniacal pursuits).

Commenting on the Tao xxix, Master Ho-shang Kung points out (regarding those who wish to be lords of the world):

‘He wishes to govern creatures through action. In my view, he will not succeed, for the Way of Heaven and the hearts of men are clear.

The Way of Heaven [Perfection of Harmony] abhors confusion [regarding one’s own nature, expressed spontaneously] and impurity [artifice]; the human heart abhors excessive desires’.

The ancient chosen people found themselves hard-hearted, lost and without a sense of direction, because they were misguided by religious leaders who were self-serving and worldly.

Their blinding and contrived blindness was the actual ruin of the destiny and quality of life of the entire nation.

Jesus appeals to the apostles so that his congregations of the simple, the humble and the disoriented may not meet the same fate – due to a lack of integrity on the part of those in charge of the community.

The latter – if intoxicated by self-satisfaction – sometimes, instead of humanising, uplifting and bringing joy to the lives of ordinary people, willingly suffocate them with trivialities and lead them astray into trivialities.

The Lord absolutely does not want the leaders of his communities to allow themselves the luxury of setting themselves above others and claiming to be masters of the truth. Gospel Truth is not something one possesses, but something one lives out.

The Master is not one who simply imparts lessons: he accompanies his disciples and lives with them; he does not confine himself to mere manners.

He does not teach various subjects, etiquette, mannerisms or good manners: rather, he conveys the living and all-encompassing Person of Christ – even that aspect which defies etiquette – without stripping the disciple of his or her individuality.

In short, the Risen One is not merely an example to be imitated, a model that imposes obligations and minutiae, a founder of an institution, of a specific ideology, or of a religion (grammar, doctrine, style and discipline).

In Jesus we are called to identify with him – not ‘by ear’, nor by copying. Faith itself is a multifaceted relationship.

It drives us to reinterpret Christ in a novel way; each of us in relation to our life story, to new situations, events, cultural developments, sensibilities and the spirit of the age.

It is the direct and personal experience of the Father as championed by the Son. A triumph that shatters childish, worldly or conventional standards.

A source and an appropriation that allows us to boldly recognise ourselves as already redeemed, so that we may pass from darkness into light without conditions or relentless scrutiny.

The Lord’s Light is the fruit of the Spirit’s unprecedented and powerful Action.

An intuition of the signs and a Virtue that overcomes the disorientation of every straying soul, whether a prisoner of opinions, pettiness, or selfishness—whether solitary or otherwise.

An unexpected energy which nevertheless comes into play thanks to the stagnant situations to which it feels compelled to react; and it becomes a regenerating power, an unexpected life (for those saved already here and now).

Christ calls for an inventive attitude even in reaching out to one’s neighbour – without preconceived, suffocating, morbid or intellectual frameworks and caveats; without ‘maybes’, simply to welcome. 

Such openness is almost impossible if community leaders remain distracted or are already set in their ways – and thus unnecessarily rigid towards others.

In this way, they would remain pedantic, more impatient than the pagan god they still harbour within their bodies and minds.

All of us, healed without merit, have indeed been called by Name: in a special way – and to guide our brothers and sisters on fundamental choices. As expert guides of the soul and of the depth of relationship.

Not commanders and rulers with no possibility of replacement: but rather bread, support, nourishment, a luminous sign of the Lord, a spur in favour of the lives of others.

Church leaders must be very special points of reference and cornerstones of imaginative, regenerating communion – through whom the persistence and tolerance of a higher force of reciprocity shine through.

The eye of the believer in Christ remains clear and luminous because they find brilliant Friends who introduce them to engaging with and reflecting upon not external, imposed models (derived from opinions or intentions), but the Word.

Influenced by the barrage of the ‘external society’ or by trivial partisan interests, the spiritual guide themselves may, conversely, lose their creative discernment.

Thus they cling once more to the old man, bound to vain hopes; so many petty and insignificant trifles – and in the end they become ‘blind’ once more.

In the realm of darkness, unfortunately, there are not only those who are short-sighted, long-sighted or astigmatic, but above all those who see ‘far away’ (as they say) but not the people right before their eyes.

More agile and organised than others, they take control of the situation.

For a long time, things in their company seem pleasant, but having no deep roots, it is precisely these people who ultimately ruin the fate of the weak.

They organise events or festivals, instead of renewing from within, and singing the authentic song of a full life, joyful for all.

Beyond these shortcomings of vision, we must also be mindful of ‘moderation’: we are not called to become do-gooders who are impeccable, nor to be defeatists who are merely a little more prudent and ‘practical’.

All these are already old failures, which fail to face the present head-on and do not open up the future.

We have received as a gift the mission to build the world in the Risen One, who radiates strength and divine spark: radically new heavens and earth, even in our own quests.

Let alone dwell on ‘splinters’.

In short, through grace, guidance, driving direction and action, the genuine workings of vital Providence draw us away from the domination of ancient superstructures [‘beams’ in the eye].

With this personal wealth of experience, we can also become companions to a humanity that is no longer alienated, but rather enabled to breathe beyond the usual rants… which incite trifles.

Despite our flaws, guided and blessed by the great Master and his Word in the Spirit, it will be our desire for a full, broad and complete life that prevents us from losing sight of our sacred Oneness in the world.

Nella Liturgia della Parola di questa domenica emerge il tema della Legge di Dio, del suo comandamento: un elemento essenziale della religione ebraica e anche di quella cristiana, dove trova il suo pieno compimento nell’amore (cfr Rm 13,10). La Legge di Dio è la sua Parola che guida l’uomo nel cammino della vita, lo fa uscire dalla schiavitù dell’egoismo e lo introduce nella «terra» della vera libertà e della vita. Per questo nella Bibbia la Legge non è vista come un peso, una limitazione opprimente, ma come il dono più prezioso del Signore, la testimonianza del suo amore paterno, della sua volontà di stare vicino al suo popolo, di essere il suo Alleato e scrivere con esso una storia di amore. Così prega il pio israelita: «Nei tuoi decreti è la mia delizia, / non dimenticherò la tua parola. (…) Guidami sul sentiero dei tuoi comandi, / perché in essi è la mia felicità» (Sal 119,16.35). Nell’Antico Testamento, colui che a nome di Dio trasmette la Legge al popolo è Mosè. Egli, dopo il lungo cammino nel deserto, sulla soglia della terra promessa, così proclama: «Ora, Israele, ascolta le leggi e le norme che io vi insegno, affinché le mettiate in pratica, perché viviate ed entriate in possesso della terra che il Signore, Dio dei vostri padri, sta per darvi» (Dt 4,1).

Ed ecco il problema: quando il popolo si stabilisce nella terra, ed è depositario della Legge, è tentato di riporre la sua sicurezza e la sua gioia in qualcosa che non è più la Parola del Signore: nei beni, nel potere, in altre ‘divinità’ che in realtà sono vane, sono idoli. Certo, la Legge di Dio rimane, ma non è più la cosa più importante, la regola della vita; diventa piuttosto un rivestimento, una copertura, mentre la vita segue altre strade, altre regole, interessi spesso egoistici individuali e di gruppo. E così la religione smarrisce il suo senso autentico che è vivere in ascolto di Dio per fare la sua volontà - che è la verità del nostro essere - e così vivere bene, nella vera libertà, e si riduce a pratica di usanze secondarie, che soddisfano piuttosto il bisogno umano di sentirsi a posto con Dio. Ed è questo un grave rischio di ogni religione, che Gesù ha riscontrato nel suo tempo, ma che si può verificare, purtroppo, anche nella cristianità. Perciò le parole di Gesù nel Vangelo di oggi contro gli scribi e i farisei devono far pensare anche noi. Gesù fa proprie le parole del profeta Isaia: «Questo popolo mi onora con le labbra, ma il suo cuore è lontano da me. Invano mi rendono culto, insegnando dottrine che sono precetti di uomini» (Mc 7,6-7; cfr Is 29,13). E poi conclude: «Trascurando il comandamento di Dio, voi osservate la tradizione degli uomini» (Mc 7,8).

Anche l’apostolo Giacomo, nella sua Lettera, mette in guardia dal pericolo di una falsa religiosità. Egli scrive ai cristiani: «Siate di quelli che mettono in pratica la Parola, e non soltanto ascoltatori, illudendo voi stessi» (Gc 1,22). La Vergine Maria, alla quale ora ci rivolgiamo in preghiera, ci aiuti ad ascoltare con cuore aperto e sincero la Parola di Dio, perché orienti i nostri pensieri, le nostre scelte e le nostre azioni, ogni giorno.

[Papa Benedetto, Angelus 2 settembre 2012]

Therefore the first and principal meaning of penitence is interior, spiritual. The principal effort of penitence consists "in entering oneself", one's deepest being, entering this dimension of one's own humanity in which, in a certain sense, God is waiting for us. The "exterior" man must

— I would say — yield, in each of us, to the "interior" man and, in a certain sense, "make way for him". In current life, man does not live enough on the "interior" plane. Jesus Christ clearly indicates that also acts of devotion and penitence (such as fasting, charity, prayer) which because of their religious finality are mainly "interior", may yield to the current "exteriorism", and can therefore be falsified. Penitence, on the contrary, as turning to God, requires above all that man should reject appearances, succeed in freeing himself from falsity, and find himself again in all his interior truth. Even a rapid, summary look into the divine splendour of man's interior truth is already a success. It is necessary, however, to consolidate this success skilfully by means of systematic work on oneself. This work is called "ascesis" (it had already been given this name by the Greeks of the times of the origins of Christianity). Ascesis means an interior effort not to let oneself be swept along and pushed by the different "exterior" currents, in such a way as to remain always oneself and keep the dignity of one's own humanity. 

But the Lord Jesus calls us to do something more. When he says "go into your room and shut the door", he indicates an ascetic effort of the human spirit, which must not end in man himself. That shutting-in of oneself is, at the same time, the deepest opening of the human heart. It is indispensable for the purpose of meeting the Father, and must be undertaken for this purpose. "Your Father who sees in secret will reward you." Here it is a question of acquiring again the simplicity of thought, of will, and of heart which is indispensable to meet God in one's own "self". And God is waiting for that, in order to approach man who is absorbed interiorly and at the same time open to his word and his love! God wishes to communicate himself to the soul thus disposed. He wishes to give it truth and love, which have their real source in him.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 28 February 1979]

We too could ask ourselves: why do Jesus and his disciples disregard these traditions? After all, they are not bad things, but good ritual habits, simple cleansing before eating.  Why is Jesus  not concerned with this? Because for him it is important to bring faith back to its centre. We see it repeatedly in the Gospel: this bringing faith back to the centre. And to avoid a risk, which applies to those scribes as well as to us: to observe outward formalities, putting the heart and  faith in the background. Many times we too “put makeup” on our soul. Outward formality and not the heart of faith: this is a risk. It is the risk of a religiosity of appearances : looking good on the outside, while neglecting to purify the heart. There is always the temptation to “deal with God” with some outward devotion, but Jesus does not settle for this worship. Jesus does not want outward appearances, he wants a faith that touches the heart.

 In fact, immediately afterwards, he calls the people back to speak a great truth: “there is nothing outside  a man which by going into him can defile him; but the things which come out of a man are what defile him” (v. 15). Rather, it is “from within, out of the heart” (v. 21) that evil things are born. These words are revolutionary, because in the mindset of the time, it was thought that certain foods or external contacts would make one impure. Jesus reverses the perspective: it is not what comes from the outside that is harmful, but rather, what is born from within.

Dear brothers and sisters, this also pertains to us. We often think that evil comes mainly from the outside: from other people’s conduct, from those who think badly of us, from society. How often we blame others, society, the world, for everything that happens to us! It is always the fault of “others”: it is the fault of people, of those who govern, of misfortune, and so on. It seems that problems always come from the outside. And we spend time assigning blame; but spending time blaming others is wasting time. We become angry, bitter and keep God away from our heart. Like those people in the Gospel, who complain, who are scandalized, who cause controversy and do not welcome Jesus. One cannot be truly religious while complaining: complaining poisons, it leads you to anger, to resentment and to sadness, that of the heart, which closes the door to God.

Let us ask the Lord today to free us from blaming others — like children: “No, it wasn’t me! It’s the other one, the other one…”. Let us ask in prayer for the grace not to waste time polluting the world with complaints, because this is not Christian. Jesus instead invites us to look at life and the world starting from our heart. If we look inside ourselves, we will find almost all that we despise outside. And if, with sincerity,  we will ask God to purify our heart, then indeed we will be starting to make the world cleaner. Because there is an infallible way to defeat evil: by starting to conquer it within yourself. The first Fathers of the Church, the monks, when they were asked: “What is the path of holiness, how should I begin”? The first step, they used to say, was to blame oneself: blame yourself. Blaming ourselves. How many of us, during the day, in a moment of  the day or a moment in the week, are able to blame ourselves within? “Yes, this one did this to me, the other one … that one, a  barbarity…”. But me? Do I do the same thing, or do I do it this way.... It is wisdom: learning to blame yourself. Try to do it, it will do you good. It does me good, when I manage to do so, but it is good for us, it is good for everyone.

May the Virgin Mary, who changed history through the purity of her heart, help us to purify our own, by overcoming first and foremost the vice of blaming others and complaining about everything.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 29 August 2021]

The difficult condition of the disciple in the Church and the world

(Mt 14:22-36)

Having reached the ultimate condition (v.23) Jesus does not allow the Apostles to keep the treasures of God for themselves.

He compels his own to the mission to the Gentiles (v.22). But the 'headwinds' were many.

About half a century after the Lord's death, the communities of Galilee and Syria faced a difficult crossing.

The securities of the ancient religion and the sense of rootedness in the customs of the “chosen” people were breaking down. Even small privileges of position were crumbling.

With the increasing entry of pagans into communities, third-generation believers were forced to ask themselves how they could break out of their old cultural isolation and open up to a new way of seeing things.

In addition to the persecutions, internal conflicts intensified: for example, over the position to be taken in relation to the Empire itself.

There was no shortage of heated debates about the figure and history of the Master himself - as well as on the attitude to take towards the tradition of the 'fathers' [which to some seemed a call to turn back].

Even though the situation was fraught with friction, bitterness, and rancour between Judaizers and those from paganism, as well as impetuous dangers, the Glad Tidings of unconditional Salvation could not be kept in an inner circle.

The quotation of the divine Name «I Am» (v.27) refers here to the Exodus story (3:14).

It is a reminder to the disciples. They still seemed to be in the grip of immediate fears about the real power of Life and Deliverance of Christ - so much so that they did not recognize Him (v.26).

Without ceasing, the Risen One still makes himself Present, so that we can open up and move forward; without the burden of opposition or nostalgia. There is a whole new reality waiting.

We are inhabited by the power of God (vv.28-31).

Authentic communities - «flap of his cloak» (v.36) that is of his Person - will still experience the power of the Spirit.

Through evangelization and the new way of living and helping others gratuitously, any storms that may be gathering on the horizon will clear up.

It will be replaced by an ever deeper and more acute experience of the burgeoning diversity of the 'other shore'; of one's neighbour, of oneself, of the life to come, and of God.

But the virtue that dominates the elements cannot be experienced as Peter intended, that is, as an external, immediate, decisive, and final power - but rather as mysterious and inner, animated in time, and of profound relationship.

The “victory” will be the result of Faith alone: trust in the strength that the silent Messiah gives.

Potency far greater than what we already know about ourselves - despite the fact that we often (like Simone) pretend to an easier, quicker, immediately decisive shortcut.

Emotionally relevant situations have their own meaning, they carry a significant appeal; they introduce a different introspection, the decisive change - a new 'genesis'.

Trial in fact activates souls in the most effective way, because it disengages us from the idea of stability, and brings us into contact with dormant energies, initiating the new dialogue with events.

In Him, we are therefore imbued with a different vision of danger.

[Monday 18th wk. in O.T. (year A),  August 3, 2026]