Incarnation, or emptiness of humanity

(Mt 12:1-8)

On the conversion’s journey, conflicts of conscience are not parentheses or accidents of the path, but crucial knots.

The genuineness of believing then generates implicative strenght and new expressive abilities.

The alternative is between Intimacy and practice of Faith, or religion that condemns people without fault (v.7):

According to ordinary religious assessments, the legislation was worth more than hunger... but God’s experience in the life overturns ideas elaborated by experts.

To be honest, observance of the Sabbath had become a central law not because of theological subtleties, very well because in the period of the Exile the weekly rest had allowed believers to gather, share hopes, encourage each other, maintain the identity of the people.

But legalism ended up stifling the spirit of the day of worship, once a sign of a freedom in the service of people’s faith and happiness.

Thus where Jesus arrives, every spiritual module empty of humanity crumbles, and the Incarnation takes hold: the place where God and man  seriously ‘rest’ [other than the saturday!].

Therefore the Lord quotes the prophet Hosea, a man with a raw experience, but who clearly defines the summit of intimacy with God: an authentic Rite is to realize the needs of our neighbour and to have the heart in the others’ hopes.

The archaic «sacrifice» [‘sacrum-facere’, making sacred] reflected an idea of cutting, separation and distance between the perfect world of "heaven" and the profane existence of people.

But after the coming of the «Son of Man» (v.8) the new consecrated persons will not live far from the day-to-day existence.

Rather, they will be the first to welcome and relieve those in need.

Sign of the Covenant with God, and Encounter [authentic sanctification] is an ‘adherence’ that continues in the plot of days.

After the Messianic Hymn of Jubilation and the «Gladness of the Simple» that supplants the «yoke» of the ancient religion (Mt 11:25-30), the Master presents himself to the Pharisees in the (stand-in) regal guise of David, who sets out to conquer the alternative Kingdom, even with a small handful of followers.

To the slavery of customs, Christ opposes a looseness that makes the encounter between God and his people more agile, more spontaneous, richer and more personal.

A trail of light - even for us - in the face of the current pastoral collapse (despite the plethora of structures on the ground!).

In the time of the global crisis that seems to mortgage the future [and there is still an attempt to calculate it by directing it a priori, according to selective interests] the challenge is more open than ever.

To internalize and live the message:

How did you perceive that you were reliving Christ in the fluency of the norms?

[Friday 15th wk. in O.T.  July 18, 2025]

Incarnation for the sake of self and the world, or the spiritual form empty of humanity

(Mt 12:1-8)

On the path to conversion, conflicts of conscience are not parentheses or accidents of the way, but crucial nodes.

The genuineness of belief then generates implicative force and new expressive capacities.

The alternative is between Intimacy and the practice of Faith, or religion that condemns blameless people (v.7):

According to ordinary religious assessments, regulation was worth more than hunger....

Yes, there is much to dialogue, simply, but little to argue about: God's experience in life overturns the ideas developed by experts.

To be fair, Sabbath observance had become a central law, not because of theological niceties, but because in the period of the Exile, weekly rest had made it possible to come together, to share hopes, to encourage one another, to maintain identity as a people.

But legalism ended up stifling the spirit of the day of worship, once a sign of a freedom at the service of faith and man, both of which could not be enslaved.

So where Jesus arrives, every spiritual module empty of humanity crumbles, and the Incarnation takes hold: the place where God and man rest in earnest [other than on the Sabbath!]

The litmus test of the breaking in of the new kingdom is the flaring up of contrasts with leaders, managers, court intellectuals and executives!

They built their prestige on a patchwork of false teachings, which had nothing to do with the objective of the divine Law.

Dog doesn't eat dog, so the wranglers of tradition and provision had never commented on David's transgressive behaviour.

It just so happens that the masters of steam and the unsavoury fundamentalists do not go against each other....

On the Sabbath day the priests had many more sacred and preparation, slaughtering and tidying up of the sanctuary than on other days of the week, and the Torah obliged them... it happens to us too.

So the Lord quotes the prophet Hosea, a man of raw experience, but one who well defines the pinnacle of intimacy with God: Authentic ritual is to notice the needs of one's neighbour and to have one's heart in the needs of others.

The archaic 'sacrifice' [sacrum facere, to make sacred] reflected an idea of cut-off, separation and distance between the perfect world of 'heaven' and the profane life of people.

But after the coming of the "Son of Man" (v.8), the new consecrated will not live secluded, above the lines, far from summary existence.

Rather, they will be the first to welcome and lift up those in need.

Christ emphasises the poverty of any legalistic and hypocritical attachment in the way of conceiving relations with the Father.

A sign of the Covenant with God, and an encounter (authentic sanctification) is the adherence that continues in the pattern of days and in His active Person - not a ridiculous idolatry of observances or cultic parentheses.

Facts and rituals celebrate love; and outspoken adherence does not trace the pedantic 'how we should be', but expresses a Liberation of the person.

The biblical episode that Jesus cites might perhaps have seemed not entirely relevant to the theoretical question: his disciples did not seem to be kings or even priests.

Instead, in the new time that is impending, yes: 'sovereigns' of their own lives by Gift and Calling, as well as 'mediators' [of divine blessings on humanity] - and prophets too.

Authentic ones will no longer play the double game of the old theatrics, susceptible practitioners of the sacred - nor will they condemn the innocent and needy (v.7).

In Mk 2:27 Jesus relativises the commandment: 'The Sabbath was [instituted, has its meaning] for man, and not man for the Sabbath'.

The lovable God establishes a dialogue and friendship with us that invites, gives impetus, gives gusto.

The Tao Tê Ching (xiii) writes:

"To him who makes merit of himself for the sake of the world, the world can be entrusted. To him who cares for himself for the sake of the world, one can trust the world'.

To the bondage of customs, Christ opposes a looseness that makes the encounter between God and his people more agile, more spontaneous, richer and more personal.

It is the outcome of a messianic consciousness that is precisely that of a "Son of Man" (v.8): greater than the Temple (v.6) because incarnate.

In this way, transmissible to us, His brothers and friends - united to Him and intimate by faith.

After the Messianic Hymn of Jubilation and the "Joy of the simple" that supplants the "yoke" of the ancient religion (Mt 11:25-30), the Master presents himself to the Pharisees in the regal stature of David, who sets out to conquer the alternative "Kingdom", even with a small handful of followers.

A trail of light - even for us - in the face of the current pastoral collapse (despite the plethora of structures on the ground!).

In the time of the global crisis that seems to mortgage the future (we still try to calculate it by directing it a priori, according to selective interests), the challenge is more open than ever.The opposition on Justice

"It is precisely because of this personal experience of his relationship with Jesus Christ that Paul now places at the heart of his Gospel an irreducible opposition between two alternative paths to justice: one built on the works of the Law, the other founded on the grace of faith in Christ. The alternative between righteousness by the works of the Law and righteousness by faith in Christ thus becomes one of the dominant motifs running through his Epistles: "We, who by birth are Jews and not sinful pagans, yet knowing that man is not justified by the works of the Law, but only by faith in Jesus Christ, have also believed in Christ Jesus, that we might be justified by faith in Christ and not by the works of the Law; for by the works of the Law no one will ever be justified" (Gal 2:15-16). And to the Christians of Rome he reiterates that 'all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, but are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus (Rom 3:23-24). He adds, "For we hold that man is justified by faith, regardless of the works of the Law" (Ibid 28). Luther at this point translated: 'justified by faith alone'. I will return to this point at the end of the catechesis. First we must clarify what this "Law" is from which we are liberated and what those "works of the Law" are that do not justify. Already in the community of Corinth there was an opinion that would later return systematically in history; the opinion was that it was the moral law and that Christian freedom therefore consisted in liberation from ethics. Thus the word 'πάντα μοι έξεστιν' (everything is permissible to me) circulated in Corinth. It is obvious that this interpretation is wrong: Christian freedom is not libertinism, the liberation of which St Paul speaks is not liberation from doing good.

But what then is the Law from which we are liberated and which does not save? For St Paul, as for all his contemporaries, the word Law meant the Torah in its entirety, that is, the five books of Moses. The Torah implied, in the Pharisaic interpretation, the one studied and made his own by Paul, a complex of behaviours ranging from the ethical core to the ritual and cultic observances that substantially determined the identity of the righteous man. Particularly circumcision, observances about pure food and generally ritual purity, rules about Sabbath observance, etc. Behaviours that also frequently appear in the debates between Jesus and his contemporaries. All these observances expressing a social, cultural and religious identity had become singularly important by the time of the Hellenistic culture, beginning in the 3rd century BC. This culture, which had become the universal culture of the time, and was an apparently rational, polytheistic, apparently tolerant culture, constituted a strong pressure towards cultural uniformity and thus threatened the identity of Israel, which was politically forced into this common identity of the Hellenistic culture, resulting in the loss of its own identity, and thus also the loss of the precious inheritance of the faith of the Fathers, of faith in the one God and the promises of God.

Against this cultural pressure, which threatened not only Israelite identity, but also faith in the one God and His promises, it was necessary to create a wall of distinction, a shield of defence to protect the precious inheritance of faith; this wall consisted precisely of Jewish observances and prescriptions. Paul, who had learnt of these observances precisely in their defensive function of God's gift, of the inheritance of faith in one God, saw this identity threatened by the freedom of Christians: he therefore persecuted them. At the moment of his encounter with the Risen One he realised that with Christ's resurrection the situation had changed radically. With Christ, the God of Israel, the one true God, became the God of all peoples. The wall - so he says in the Letter to the Ephesians - between Israel and the pagans was no longer necessary: it is Christ who protects us against polytheism and all its deviations; it is Christ who unites us with and in the one God; it is Christ who guarantees our true identity in the diversity of cultures. The wall is no longer necessary; our common identity in the diversity of cultures is Christ, and it is he who makes us righteous. To be just is simply to be with Christ and in Christ. And that is enough. Other observances are no longer necessary. That is why Luther's expression 'sola fide' is true, if faith is not opposed to charity, to love. Faith is to look to Christ, to entrust oneself to Christ, to attach oneself to Christ, to conform oneself to Christ, to his life. And the form, the life of Christ is love; therefore to believe is to conform oneself to Christ and to enter into his love. That is why St Paul in the Epistle to the Galatians, in which he especially developed his doctrine on justification, speaks of faith working through charity (cf. Gal 5:14).

Paul knows that in the twofold love of God and neighbour the whole Law is present and fulfilled. Thus in communion with Christ, in the faith that creates charity, the whole Law is fulfilled. We become righteous by entering into communion with Christ who is love".

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 19 November 2008].

To internalise and live the message:

Have you felt oppression or exclusion in the name of the Law? Do you feel it was for offending God or for daring to disturb something or question someone and their cultural paradigm?

How did you perceive you were reliving Christ in the looseness of norms? What conflicts are a source of discussion and ecclesial controversy that you feel create detachment and suffering around you?

At the centre of the liturgy of the Word for this Sunday there is a saying of the Prophet Hosea to which Jesus refers in the Gospel: "I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice, the knowledge of God, rather than burnt offerings" (Hos 6: 6). It is a key word, one of those that bring us into the heart of Sacred Scripture. The context in which Jesus makes it his own is the calling of Matthew, a "publican" by profession, in other words a tax collector for the Roman imperial authority: for this reason the Jews considered him a public sinner. Having called Matthew precisely when he was sitting at his tax counter - this scene is vividly depicted in a very famous painting by Caravaggio -, Jesus took his disciples to Matthew's home and sat at the table together with other publicans. To the scandalized Pharisees he answered: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.... For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners" (Mt 9: 12-13). Here, the Evangelist Matthew, ever attentive to the link between the Old and New Testaments, puts Hosea's prophecy on Jesus' lips: "Go and learn what this means, "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice'".

These words of the Prophet are so important that the Lord cited them again in another context, with regard to the observance of the Sabbath (cf. Mt 12: 1-8). In this case too he assumed responsibility for the interpretation of the precept, showing himself to be "Lord" of even the legal institutions. Addressing the Pharisees he added: "If you had known what this means, "I desire mercy, and not sacrifice', you would not have condemned the guiltless" (Mt 12: 7). Thus in Hosea's oracle Jesus, the Word made man, fully "found himself", as it were; he wholeheartedly made these words his own and put them into practice with his behaviour, even at the cost of upsetting his People's leaders. God's words have come down to us, through the Gospels, as a synthesis of the entire Christian message: true religion consists in love of God and neighbour. This is what gives value to worship and to the practice of the precepts.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 8 June 2008]

I want mercy and not sacrifice...". (Mt 9:13).

The one who speaks these words is Jesus Christ: He who offered the most perfect sacrifice of Himself to God. This sacrifice was simultaneously the supreme revelation of the Father, who is God "rich in mercy" (Eph 2:4). During Lent, the Church meditates on her knees on this mystery: the mystery of sacrifice and mercy, and seeks to build her inner life and service from it. One must enter very deeply into this mystery of Christ's sacrifice in order to fulfil each day, with the strength that comes from it, the mission of mercy, that is, of love, which in Christ is always greater than any evil.

It is necessary to enter very deeply into the mystery of Christ's sacrifice in order to make all service to those who are in need of our mercy flow from it every day: the service of the Church and of all people of good will.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus 29 March 1981]

We have heard the Gospel account of the call of Matthew. Matthew was a “publican”, namely, a tax collector on behalf of the Roman Empire, and for this reason was considered a public sinner. But Jesus calls Matthew to follow him and to become his disciple. Matthew accepts, and invites Jesus along with the disciples to have dinner at his house. Thus an argument arises between the Pharisees and the disciples of Jesus over the fact that the latter sit at the table with tax collectors and sinners. “You cannot go to these people’s homes!”, they said. Jesus does not stay away from them, but instead goes to their houses and sits beside them; this means that they too can become his disciples. It is likewise true that being Christian does not render us flawless. Like Matthew the tax collector, each of us trusts in the grace of the Lord regardless of our sins. We are all sinners, we have all sinned. By calling Matthew, Jesus shows sinners that he does not look at their past, at their social status, at external conventions, but rather, he opens a new future to them. I once heard a beautiful saying: “There is no saint without a past nor a sinner without a future”. This is what Jesus does. There is no saint without a past nor a sinner without a future. It is enough to respond to the call with a humble and sincere heart. The Church is not a community of perfect people, but of disciples on a journey, who follow the Lord because they know they are sinners and in need of his pardon. Thus, Christian life is a school of humility which opens us to grace.

Such behaviour is not understood by those who have the arrogance to believe they are “just” and to believe they are better than others. Hubris and pride do not allow one to recognize him- or herself as in need of salvation, but rather prevent one from seeing the merciful face of God and from acting with mercy. They are a barrier. Hubris and pride are a barrier that prevents a relationship with God. Yet, this is precisely Jesus’ mission: coming in search of each of us, in order to heal our wounds and to call us to follow him with love. He says so explicitly: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick” (v. 12). Jesus presents himself as a good physician! He proclaims the Kingdom of God, and the signs of its coming are clear: He heals people from disease, frees them from fear, from death, and from the devil. Before Jesus, no sinner is excluded — no sinner is excluded! Because the healing power of God knows no infirmity that cannot be healed; and this must give us confidence and open our heart to the Lord, that he may come and heal us.

By calling sinners to his table, he heals them, restoring to them the vocation that they believed had been lost and which the Pharisees had forgotten: that of being guests at God’s banquet. According to the prophecy of Isaiah: “On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of fat things, a feast of wine on the lees, of fat things full of marrow, of wine on the lees well refined.... It will be said on that day, ‘Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us. This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation” (25:6, 9).

When the Pharisees see only sinners among the invited, and refuse to be seated with them, Jesus to the contrary reminds them that they too are guests at God’s table. Thus, sitting at the table with Jesus means being transformed and saved by him. In the Christian community the table of Jesus is twofold: there is the table of the Word and there is the table of the Eucharist (cf. Dei Verbum, n. 21). These are the medicines with which the Divine Physician heals us and nourishes us. With the first — the Word — He reveals himself and invites us to a dialogue among friends. Jesus was not afraid to dialogue with sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes.... No, he was not afraid: he loved everyone! His Word permeates us and, like a scalpel, operates deep in the heart so as to free us from the evil lurking in our life. At times this Word is painful because it discloses deception, reveals false excuses, lays bare hidden truths; but at the same time it illuminates and purifies, gives strength and hope; it is an invaluable tonic on our journey of faith. The Eucharist, for its part, nourishes us with the very life of Jesus, like an immensely powerful remedy and, in a mysterious way, it continuously renews the grace of our Baptism. By approaching the Eucharist we are nourished of the Body and Blood of Jesus, and by entering us, Jesus joins us to his Body!

Concluding that dialogue with the Pharisees, Jesus reminds them of a word of the prophet Hosea (6:6): “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice’” (Mt 9:13). Addressing the people of Israel, the prophet reproaches them because the prayers they raised were but empty and incoherent words. Despite God’s covenant and mercy, the people often lived with a “façade-like” religiosity, without living in depth the command of the Lord. This is why the prophet emphasized: “I desire mercy”, namely the loyalty of a heart that recognizes its own sins, that mends its ways and returns to be faithful to the covenant with God. “And not sacrifice”: without a penitent heart, every religious action is ineffective! Jesus also applies this prophetic phrase to human relationships: the Pharisees were very religious in form, but were not willing to sit at the table with tax collectors and sinners; they did not recognize the opportunity for mending their ways and thus for healing; they did not place mercy in the first place: although being faithful guardians of the Law, they showed that they did not know the heart of God! It is as though you were given a parcel with a gift inside and, rather than going to open the gift, you look only at the paper it is wrapped in: only appearances, the form, and not the core of the grace, of the gift that is given!

Dear brothers and sisters, all of us are invited to the table of the Lord. Let us make our own this invitation and sit beside the Lord together with his disciples. Let us learn to look with mercy and to recognize each of them as fellow guests at the table. We are all disciples who need to experience and live the comforting word of Jesus. We all need to be nourished by the mercy of God, for it is from this source that our salvation flows.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 13 April 2016]

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [13 July 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin Mary protect us. Let us live this summer accompanied and guided by the Word of God.

*First Reading from the Book of Deuteronomy (30:10-14)

 The Book of Deuteronomy contains Moses' last speech, a sort of spiritual testament, although it was certainly not written by Moses, since it often repeats: 'Moses said... Moses did'. The author is very solemn in recalling Moses' greatest contribution: bringing Israel out of Egypt and concluding the Covenant with God on Sinai. In this Covenant, God promises to protect his people forever, and the people promise to respect his Law, recognising it as the best guarantee of their newfound freedom. Israel makes this commitment, but it does not often prove faithful. When the Northern Kingdom, destroyed by the Assyrians, disappears from the map, the author invites the inhabitants of the Southern Kingdom, learning from this defeat, to listen to the voice of the Lord, to observe his commands and decrees written in the Torah. For they are neither difficult to understand nor to put into practice: "This commandment which I command you today is not too high for you, nor is it too far away from you" (v. 11).

A question arises: if observing the Law is not difficult, why are God's commandments not put into practice? For Moses, the reason lies in the fact that Israel is "a stiff-necked people": it provoked the Lord's anger in the desert and then rebelled against the Lord from the day it left Egypt until its arrival in the Promised Land (cf. Deut 9:6-7). The expression "stiff-necked" evokes an animal that refuses to bend its neck under the yoke, and the Covenant between God and his people was compared to a ploughing yoke. To recommend obedience to the Law, Ben Sira writes: "Put your neck under the yoke and receive instruction" (Sir 51:26). Jeremiah rebukes Israel for its infidelities to the Law: "For long you have broken my yoke and torn off my bonds" (Jer 2:20; 5:5). And Jesus: "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me... Yes, my yoke is easy and my burden light" (Mt 11:29-30). This phrase finds its roots right here in our text from Deuteronomy: "This commandment which I command you today is not too high for you, nor is it too far away from you" (v. 11). Both in Deuteronomy and in the Gospel, the positive message of the Bible emerges: the divine law is within our reach and evil is not irremediable, so that if humanity walks towards salvation, which consists in loving God and neighbour, it experiences happiness. Yet experience shows that living a life in accordance with God's plan is impossible for human beings when they rely solely on their own strength. But if this is impossible for men, everything is possible for God (cf. Mt 19:26) who, as we read in this text, transforms our 'stiff neck' and changes our heart: he 'will circumcise your heart and the heart of your descendants, so that you may love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and live' (Dt 30:6).. Circumcision of the heart means the adherence of our whole being to God's will, which is possible, as the prophets, especially Jeremiah and Ezekiel, note, only through God's direct intervention: "I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. I will be their God, and they shall be my people" (Jer 31:33).

*Responsorial Psalm 18/19

Obedience to the Law is a path to the true Promised Land, and this psalm seems like a litany in honour of the Law: "the law of the Lord", "the precepts of the Lord", "the commandment of the Lord", "the judgments of the Lord". The Lord chose his people, freed them and offered them his Covenant to accompany them throughout their existence, educating them through observance of the Torah. We must not forget that, before anything else, the Jewish people experienced being freed by their God. The Law and the commandments are therefore placed in the perspective of the exodus from Egypt: they are an undertaking of liberation from all the chains that prevent man from being happy, and it is an eternal Covenant. The book of Deuteronomy insists on this point: 'Hear, O Israel, and keep and do them, for then you will find happiness' (Deut 6:3). And our psalm echoes this: 'The precepts of the Lord are upright, they are joy to the heart'. The great certainty acquired by the men of the Bible is that God wants man to be happy and offers him a very simple means to achieve this, for it is enough to listen to his Word written in the Law: "The commandment of the Lord is clear, it enlightens the eyes." The path is marked out, the commandments are like road signs indicating possible dangers, and the Law is our teacher: after all, the root of the word Torah in Hebrew means first and foremost to teach. There is no other requirement and there is no other way to be happy: "The judgments of the Lord are all just, more precious than gold, sweeter than honey." If for us, as for the psalmist, gold is a metal that is both incorruptible and precious, and therefore desirable, honey does not evoke for us what it represented for an inhabitant of Palestine. When God calls Moses and entrusts him with the mission of freeing his people, he promises him: 'I will bring you out of the misery of Egypt... to a land flowing with milk and honey' (Ex 3:17). This very ancient expression characterises abundance and sweetness. Honey, of course, is also found elsewhere, even in the desert where John the Baptist fed on locusts and wild honey (cf. Mt 3:4), but it remains a rarity, and this is precisely what makes the Promised Land so wonderful, where the presence of honey indicates the sweetness of God's action, who took the initiative to save his people, simply out of love. For this reason, from now on there will be no more talk of the onions of Egypt, but of the honey of Canaan, and Israel is certain that God will save it because, as the psalm begins, 'the law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul; the testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple'.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Colossians (1:15-20)

I will begin by paraphrasing the last sentence, which is perhaps the most difficult for us: God has decided to reconcile everything to himself through Christ, making peace for all beings on earth and in heaven through the blood of his cross (vv. 19-20). Paul here compares Christ's death to a sacrifice such as those that were habitually offered in the temple in Jerusalem. In particular, there were sacrifices called 'sacrifices of communion' or 'sacrifices of peace'. Paul knows well that those who condemned Jesus certainly did not intend to offer a sacrifice, both because human sacrifices no longer existed in Israel and because Jesus was condemned to death as a criminal and was executed outside the city of Jerusalem. Paul contemplates something unheard of here: in his grace, God has transformed the horrible passion inflicted on his Son by men into a work of peace. In other words, the human hatred that kills Christ, in a mysterious reversal wrought by divine grace, becomes an instrument of reconciliation and pacification because we finally know God as he is: God is pure love and forgiveness.  This discovery can transform our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh (cf. Ezekiel), if we allow his Spirit to act in us. In this letter to the Colossians, we find the same meditation that we find in John's Gospel, inspired by the words of the prophet Zechariah: "I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and supplication. They will look on me, the one they have pierced... they will mourn for him bitterly' (Zechariah 12:10). When we contemplate the cross, our conversion and reconciliation can arise from this contemplation. In Christ on the cross, we contemplate man as God wanted him to be, and we discover in the pierced Jesus the righteous man par excellence, the perfect image of God. This is why Paul speaks of fullness, in the sense of fulfilment: "It pleased God to have all his fullness dwell in him". Let us now return to the beginning of the text: "Christ Jesus is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, for in him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible... All things were created through him and for him." In Jesus we contemplate God himself; in Jesus Christ, God allows himself to be seen or, to put it another way, Jesus is the visibility of the Father: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father," he himself says in the Gospel of John (Jn 14:9). Contemplating Christ, we contemplate man; contemplating Christ, we contemplate God. There remains one more fundamental verse: "He is also the head of the body, the Church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have firstness in everything" (v. 18). This is perhaps the text of the New Testament where it is stated most clearly that we are the Body of Christ, that is, he is the head of a great body of which we are the members. If elsewhere he had already said that we are all members of one body (Rom 12:4-5) and (1 Cor 12:12), here he makes it clear: "Christ is the head of the body, which is the Church" (as also in Eph 1:22; 4:15; 5:23), and it is up to us to ensure that this Body grows harmoniously. 

*From the Gospel according to Luke (10:25-37)

A doctor of the Law asks Jesus two challenging questions: "Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" and, even more challenging, "Who is my neighbour?" The answer he receives is demanding. Starting from his questions, Jesus leads him to the very heart of God and places this journey in a concrete context familiar to his listeners: the thirty-kilometre road between Jerusalem and Jericho, a road in the middle of the desert, which at the time was indeed a place of ambushes, so that the story of the assault and the care of the wounded man sounded extremely plausible. A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell into the hands of robbers, who robbed him and left him half dead. Added to his physical and moral misfortune is religious exclusion because, having been touched by 'unclean' people, he himself becomes unclean. This is the reason for the apparent indifference, indeed repulsion, of the priest and the Levite, who are concerned with preserving their ritual integrity. A Samaritan, on the other hand, has no such scruples. This scene on the side of the road expresses in images what Jesus himself did so many times when he healed even on the Sabbath, when he bent down to lepers, when he welcomed sinners, quoting the prophet Hosea several times: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice, knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings' (Hos 6:6). Jesus responds to the first question of the doctor of the Law as the rabbis would, with a question: "What is written in the Law? How do you read it?" And the interlocutor recites enthusiastically: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbour as yourself." "You have answered correctly," Jesus replies, because the only thing that matters for Israel is fidelity to this twofold love. The secret of this knowledge, which the entire Bible reveals to us, is that God is "merciful" (literally in Hebrew: "his bowels tremble"). It is no coincidence that Luke uses the same expression to describe Jesus' emotion at the sight of the widow of Nain carrying her only son to the cemetery (Luke 7) or to recount the Father's emotion at the return of the prodigal son (Luke 15). Even the good Samaritan, when he saw the wounded man, "had compassion on him" (he was moved in his bowels). Even though he is merciful to the Jews, he remains only a Samaritan, that is, one of the least respectable, since Jews and Samaritans were enemies: the Jews despised the Samaritans because they were heretics (an ancient contempt: in the book of Sirach, among the detestable peoples, "the foolish people who dwell in Shechem" are mentioned (Sir 50:26)), while the Samaritans did not forgive the Jews for destroying their sanctuary on Mount Gerizim (in 129 BC). Yet this despised man is declared by Jesus to be closer to God than the dignitaries and servants of the Temple, who passed by without stopping. The "compassion in the bowels" of the Samaritan — an unbeliever in the eyes of the Jews — becomes "the image of God," and Jesus proposes a reversal of perspective. When asked, "Who is my neighbour?", he does not respond with a "definition" of neighbour (the Latin word "finis," meaning "limit," is also found in the word "definition"), but makes it a matter of the heart. Pay attention to the vocabulary: the word 'neighbour' implies that there are also those who are far away. And so, to the question, 'Who then is my neighbour?', the Lord replies, 'It is up to you to decide how far you want to go to be a neighbour'. And he offers the Samaritan as an example simply because he is capable of compassion. Jesus concludes, 'Go and do likewise'. This is not mere advice. He had already said to the doctor of the Law: "Do this and you will live," and now Luke highlights the need for consistency between words and deeds: it is fine to talk like a book (as in the case of the doctor of the Law), but it is not enough, because Jesus said: "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and put it into practice" (Lk 8:21). Ultimately, Jesus challenges us to a love without boundaries!

NOTE The question "What is the greatest commandment?" also appears in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, while the parable of the Good Samaritan is unique to Luke. It is also interesting to note that this positive presentation of a Samaritan (Lk 10) immediately follows the refusal of a Samaritan village to welcome Jesus and his disciples on their way to Jerusalem (Lk 9). Jesus rejects all generalisations, and this parable ultimately highlights a question of priorities in our lives.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Yoke on the Little Ones: religion turned into obsession - for "held back" people

(Mt 11:28-30)

The rabbis chose the disciples from among those who had greater intellectual and ascetic abilities.

Jesus, on the other hand, goes to look for outside the loop, the «infants» (v.25) who didn’t even have self-esteem.

He frees precisely the sick from external constraints, and allow each one to release his inner strength.

Christ does not announce a very distant God, but Close; and the effective itinerary to become intimate with the Father is to know oneself as liberated family member.

Only here can we grasp Him in the centre of His ‘unveiling’: wise, helpful, united Power; for us, as we are.

The experts of official religion - overflowing with self-love and sense of election - preached an almighty Sovereign to be convinced with sure attitudes and artificial, sharp, imperious making.

They didn’t let persons be or become. Intransigence was a sign that they did not know the Father.

The Eternal transformed into Controller had become a source of discrimination and obsession for the intimate lives of minute, vexed by the insecurity of distinguishing-avoiding-observing, and by doubts of conscience.

Bothered by living in the first person [and as class] the conversion they preached to others, the professors did not realize they had to empty themselves of absurd presumptions and become - they - students of normal people.

We are not the subordinates of a scowling and all distant but manipulative Lord, and that asks to always be alert, with effort.

The new ones, the nullities, the voiceless, inadequate and invisible, do not know how to calculate in terms of norm and code - ancient «yoke»  (vv.29-30) that crushes vocations.

No one is empowered by God to force directions, to keep an eye on others in a maniacal, perfectionist and meticulous way [exasperating our failures].

The Father doesn’t want to exacerbate events by regulating every detail even "spiritual" starting from irritating patterns of vigilance that do not belong to us.

Sons prefer to let their personal paths of dealing with reality flow; thus tracing their essential and spontaneous energies.

They reason according to codes of life and humanization: nature, unrepeatable history, cultural influences, friendships of wide character. We don’t live to prevent.

Only in this way can we enrich the fundamental experience: Love - which does not come from judgments, cuts and separations, but from the Father-Son relationship. The bond that doesn't get us angry.

Root of the transformation of being into the Unpredictable of God is precisely the hiding, the concealment [‘tapeínōsis’ (‘lowering’), from ταπεινός (tapeinós, "low") [v.29 Greek text; Lc 1:48].

Only those who love strength start from too far away from themselves.

To internalize and live the message:

Do you suffer from some guide or from yourself a kind of controller complex?

[Thursday 15th wk. in O.T.  July 17, 2025]

Religion turned into obsession - for "held back"

(Mt 11:28-30)

The rabbis chose disciples from among those who had greater intellectual and ascetic abilities. Jesus, on the other hand, went looking for the outcasts, the "infants" (v.25) who did not even have self-esteem.

Even for the rebirth that lies ahead today, Christ has no need of false phenomena; on the contrary, it is He who frees from external constraints; He releases inner strength [and also heals the brain]. 

Into the intimacy of the Mystery of divine life enters he who knows how to receive everything and lets go - but remains himself.

God is not distant, but very close; he is not great, but small: the effective itinerary for becoming intimate with the Father is not to make oneself subordinate with effort, but to know how to be familiar disciples.

Only here can we grasp him in the centre of his unveiling: wise power, succouring, united; for us, as we are.

The experts of official religion - overflowing with self-love and a sense of election - envisaged a God to be convinced with confident attitudes and contrived, edgy, imperious actions.

They allowed neither being nor becoming. Their intransigence was a sign that they did not know the Father.

The Eternal One transformed into the Controller had become a source of discrimination and obsession for the intimate lives of minute people, harassed by the insecurity of distinguish-avoid-observe, and by doubts of conscience.

Discouraged from experiencing at first hand (and as a class) the conversion they preached to others, the professors did not realise that they had to empty themselves of absurd presumptions and become - they - pupils of ordinary people.

In short, as children we are incessantly invited to build a multifaceted family, where we are not always on the alert.

We are not the subordinates of a frowning and all-distant - but manipulative - Lord.

Rather, we are called to a paradoxical, personal and class choice: and without forcing it, to recognise ourselves - to stand alongside the humiliated and harassed.

This while provincial false piety continues to drag the burdens - precisely those of the thwarted and weary, of existence made more hesitant rather than free; obsessed and heavy, rather than light.

Why? Without mincing words, the Encyclical Brothers All would answer:

"The best way to dominate and advance without limits is to sow hopelessness and arouse constant distrust, albeit masked by the defence of certain values" (no.15).

As if to say: when the authorities and the top of the class have little credibility, only the sowing of fear produces significant conditioning in the people, and puts them on a leash.

In the widespread Church, only in the last few decades have we overcome the cliché of moralistic and terroristic preaching [e.g. even at Advent time] divorced from a meridian sense of humanisation.

The excluded, dejected and exhausted by meaningless fulfilments have nevertheless continued to meet the Saviour frankly, finding rest of soul, conviction, peace, balance, hope.

By instinct, they were able to carve out what no pyramid religion had ever been able to provide and deploy.

In this way, the new, the voiceless, the inadequate and invisible, never know how to calculate in terms of doctrine and laws, norm and code - ancient 'yoke' (vv.29-30) unbearable, crushing people and concrete vocations; particular autonomies or communionalities.

In short, no 'patriarch' is empowered by God to pack our souls, force directions, and keep a maniacal, perfectionist, meticulous eye on us.

Exacerbating failures, across the board.

Everyone has an inherent way of being in the world, all their own - even if it is habitual. It is an opportunity for momentum and richness for everyone.

We ourselves do not want to exacerbate events by regulating every detail, even 'spiritual' ones, from irritating patterns of vigilance that do not belong to us.

We prefer to let personal ways of dealing with reality flow; thus tracing its essential and spontaneous energies.

We reason according to codes of life and humanisation: temperament, unrepeatable history, cultural influences, broad friendships. We do not live to prevent.

Only in this way can we enrich the fundamental experience: Love - which does not come from judgements, cuts and separations, but from the Father-Son relationship. The only one that does not stigmatise.

The root of the transformation of being in God's unpredictable is precisely concealment, "tapinōsis" [(tapeínōsis, "lowering"), from ταπεινός (tapeinós, "low") [v.29 Greek text; Lk 1:48].

Only those who love strength begin from too far from themselves.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you find yourself more or less free and serene in community?

Does your Calling gain breath or do you feel the burden of others' doubts, judgements, prohibitions and prescriptions?

Do you suffer from some guide or from yourself a kind of controller complex?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

The Evangelists Matthew and Luke (cf. Mt 11:25-30 and Lk 10:21-22) have handed down to us a “jewel” of Jesus’ prayer that is often called the Cry of Exultation or the Cry of Messianic Exultation. It is a prayer of thanksgiving and praise, as we have heard. In the original Greek of the Gospels the word with which this jubilation begins and which expresses Jesus’ attitude in addressing the Father is exomologoumai, which is often translated with “I praise” (cf. Mt 11:25 and Lk 10:21). However, in the New Testament writings this term indicates mainly two things: the first is “to confess” fully — for example, John the Baptist asked those who went to him to be baptized to recognize their every sin (cf. Mt 3:6); the second thing is “to be in agreement”. Therefore, the words with which Jesus begins his prayer contain his full recognition of the Father’s action and at the same time, his being in total, conscious and joyful agreement with this way of acting, with the Father’s plan. The “Cry of Exultation” is the apex of a journey of prayer in which Jesus’ profound and close communion with the life of the Father in the Holy Spirit clearly emerges and his divine sonship is revealed.

Jesus addresses God by calling him “Father”. This word expresses Jesus’ awareness and certainty of being “the Son” in intimate and constant communion with him, and this is the central focus and source of every one of Jesus’ prayers. We see it clearly in the last part of the hymn which illuminates the entire text. Jesus said: “All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (Lk 10:22). Jesus was therefore affirming that only “the Son” truly knows the Father.

All the knowledge that people have of each other — we all experience this in our human relationships — entails involvement, a certain inner bond between the one who knows and the one who is known, at a more or less profound level: we cannot know anyone without a communion of being. In the Cry of Exultation — as in all his prayers — Jesus shows that true knowledge of God presupposes communion with him. Only by being in communion with the other can I begin to know him; and so it is with God: only if I am in true contact, if I am in communion with him, can I also know him. True knowledge, therefore, is reserved to the “Son”, the Only Begotten One who is in the bosom of the Father since eternity (cf. Jn 1:18), in perfect unity with him. The Son alone truly knows God, since he is in an intimate communion of being; only the Son can truly reveal who God is.

The name “Father” is followed by a second title, “Lord of heaven and earth”. With these words, Jesus sums up faith in creation and echoes the first words of Sacred Scripture: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen 1:1).

In praying, he recalls the great biblical narrative of the history of God’s love for man that begins with the act of creation. Jesus fits into this love story, he is its culmination and its fulfilment. Sacred Scripture is illumined through his experience of prayer and lives again in its fullest breadth: the proclamation of the mystery of God and the response of man transformed. Yet, through the expression: “Lord of heaven and earth”, we can also recognize that in Jesus, the Revealer of the Father, the possibility for man to reach God is reopened.

Let us now ask ourselves: to whom does the Son want to reveal God’s mysteries? At the beginning of the Hymn Jesus expresses his joy because the Father’s will is to keep these things hidden from the learned and the wise and to reveal them to little ones (cf. Lk 10:21). Thus in his prayer, Jesus manifests his communion with the Father’s decision to disclose his mysteries to the simple of heart: the Son’s will is one with the Father’s.

Divine revelation is not brought about in accordance with earthly logic, which holds that cultured and powerful people possess important knowledge and pass it on to simpler people, to little ones. God used a quite different approach: those to whom his communication was addressed were, precisely, “babes”. This is the Father’s will, and the Son shares it with him joyfully. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says: “His exclamation, ‘Yes, Father!’ expresses the depth of his heart, his adherence to the Father’s ‘good pleasure,’ echoing his mother’s ‘Fiat’ at the time of his conception and prefiguring what he will say to the Father in his agony. The whole prayer of Jesus is contained in this loving adherence of his human heart to the ‘mystery of the will’ of the Father (Eph 1:9)” (n. 2603).

The invocation that we address to God in the “Our Father” derives from this: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”: together with Christ and in Christ we too ask to enter into harmony with the Father’s will, thereby also becoming his children. Thus Jesus, in this “Cry of Exultation”, expresses his will to involve in his own filial knowledge of God all those whom the Father wishes to become sharers in it; and those who welcome this gift are the “little ones”.

But what does “being little” and simple mean? What is the “littleness” that opens man to filial intimacy with God so as to receive his will? What must the fundamental attitude of our prayer be? Let us look at “The Sermon on the Mount”, in which Jesus says: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Mt 5:8). It is purity of heart that permits us to recognize the face of God in Jesus Christ; it is having a simple heart like the heart of a child, free from the presumption of those who withdraw into themselves, thinking they have no need of anyone, not even God.

It is also interesting to notice the occasion on which Jesus breaks into this hymn to the Father. In Matthew’s Gospel narrative it is joyful because, in spite of opposition and rejection, there are “little ones” who accept his word and open themselves to the gift of faith in him. The “Cry of Exultation” is in fact preceded by the contrast between the praise of John the Baptist — one of the “little ones” who recognized God’s action in Jesus Christ (cf. Mt 11:2-19) — and the reprimand for the disbelief of the lake cities “where most of his mighty works had been performed” (cf. Mt 11:20-24).

Hence Matthew saw the Exultation in relation to the words with which Jesus noted the effectiveness of his word and action: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news of the Gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who takes no offence at me” (Mt 11:4-6).

St Luke also presented the Cry of Exultation in connection with a moment of development in the proclamation of the Gospel. Jesus sent out the “seventy-two” others (Luke 10:1) and they departed fearful of the possible failure of their mission. Luke also emphasized the rejection encountered in the cities where the Lord had preached and had worked miracles. Nonetheless the seventy-two disciples returned full of joy because their mission had met with success; they realized that human infirmities are overcome with the power of Jesus’ word. Jesus shared their pleasure: “in that same hour”, at that very moment, he rejoiced.

There are still two elements that I would like to underline. Luke the Evangelist introduces the prayer with the annotation: Jesus “rejoiced in the Holy Spirit” (Lk 10:21). Jesus rejoiced from the depths of his being, in what counted most: his unique communion of knowledge and love with the Father, the fullness of the Holy Spirit. By involving us in his sonship, Jesus invites us too to open ourselves to the light of the Holy Spirit, since — as the Apostle Paul affirms — “we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words… according to the will of God” (Rom 8:26-27), and reveals the Father’s love to us.

In Matthew’s Gospel, following the Cry of Exultation, we find one of Jesus’ most heartfelt appeals: “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). Jesus asks us to go to him, for he is true Wisdom, to him who is “gentle and lowly in heart”. He offers us “his yoke”, the way of the wisdom of the Gospel which is neither a doctrine to be learned nor an ethical system but rather a Person to follow: he himself, the Only Begotten Son in perfect communion with the Father.

Dear brothers and sisters, we have experienced for a moment the wealth of this prayer of Jesus. With the gift of his Spirit we too can turn to God in prayer with the confidence of children, calling him by the name Father, “Abba”. However, we must have the heart of little ones, of the “poor in spirit” (Mt 5:3) in order to recognize that we are not self-sufficient, that we are unable to build our lives on our own but need God, that we need to encounter him, to listen to him, to speak to him. Prayer opens us to receiving the gift of God, his wisdom, which is Jesus himself, in order to do the Father’s will in our lives and thus to find rest in the hardships of our journey. Many thanks.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 7 December 2011]

Bless you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for you have kept these things hidden from the wise and the learned and revealed them to the little ones...". (Mt 11:25).

This phrase from the Gospel of today's Sunday in July comes to mind, dear brothers and sisters, as we have gathered for the recitation of the Angelus.

Mary is the one to whom the most was revealed, at the moment when the Angel of the Lord appeared before her, announcing: "Behold, you will conceive a son, you will give birth to him and you will call his name Jesus" (Lk 1:31).

She was the first to receive this Truth that transforms the world..., a Truth so often hidden "from the wise and intelligent" of this world... And She, Mary of Nazareth, accepts it with the greatest simplicity of spirit and, therefore, in the most authentic fullness.

As we gather for the Angelus prayer, let us continually open our hearts to the same Divine Truth with such simplicity! May it come to us again and again, in the different places and circumstances of life, whether at work or at rest, as now at holiday time.

May this Divine Truth enable us to build everywhere and daily the life to which we have been called in Christ...: may we repeat with Christ: 'I bless you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth'. Such fruit of the Angelus prayer I invoke both for you, dear brothers and sisters, and for me.

2. I pray then for you, for each one of you, and for me, that the words that Jesus addresses in today's liturgy to all those who are "weary and oppressed", let us say: suffering, may be fulfilled upon us.

Behold, he says: "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, who am meek and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is soft and my burden light" (Mt 11:29-30).

For the fulfilment of these sacred words upon myself, particularly in the present period of my life, and also upon many, many of my brothers and sisters who are perhaps feeling their "sweet yoke" even more, I pray to Mary, Health of the Sick, / Mary, Refuge of Sinners / Comfort of the Afflicted, / Mary, Help of Christians / and I pray to all the saints.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus 5 July 1981]