The family is the heart of the Church. Let us today raise from this heart an act of special entrustment to the heart of the Mother of God.

In the Jubilee Year of the Redemption we want to confess that love is greater than sin and all evil, which threatens man and the world.

With humility let us invoke this love:

1. "Under your protection we seek refuge, Holy Mother of God"!

Speaking the words of this antiphon, with which the Church of Christ has prayed for centuries, we stand before you today, Mother, in the Jubilee Year of our Redemption.

We find ourselves united with all the pastors of the Church, in a special bond, constituting a body and a college, just as by Christ's will the apostles constituted a body and a college with Peter.

In the bond of such unity, we utter the words of this act, in which we wish to encapsulate, once again, the hopes and anxieties of the Church for the contemporary world.

Forty years ago, and then again ten years later, your servant, Pope Pius XII, having before his eyes the sorrowful experiences of the human family, entrusted and consecrated to your Immaculate Heart, the whole world and especially the peoples, who by their situation are particular objects of your love and solicitude.

This world of men and nations is also before our eyes today: the world of the second millennium that is coming to an end, the contemporary world, our world!

The Church, mindful of the words of the Lord: "Go . . . and teach all nations . . . Behold, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world' (Mt 28:19-20), has revived, in the Second Vatican Council, the consciousness of her mission in this world.

And therefore, O Mother of men and peoples, you who know all their sufferings and their hopes, you who maternally feel all the struggles between good and evil, between light and darkness, that shake the contemporary world, accept our cry which, moved by the Holy Spirit, we address directly to your Heart: embrace, with love as mother and servant of the Lord, this human world of ours, which we entrust and consecrate to you, full of concern for the earthly and eternal fate of men and peoples.

In a special way we entrust and consecrate to you those men and nations, who are in particular need of this entrustment and consecration.

"Under your protection we seek refuge, Holy Mother of God! Do not despise the pleas of us who are in trial!

2. Behold, as we stand before you, Mother of Christ, before your immaculate heart, we wish, together with the whole Church, to unite ourselves to the consecration which, out of love for us, your Son made of himself to the Father: "For their sake," he said, "I consecrate myself, that they also may be consecrated in truth" (Jn 17:19). We wish to unite ourselves with our Redeemer in this consecration for the world and for mankind, which, in his divine heart, has the power to obtain forgiveness and to procure reparation.

The power of this consecration endures for all time and embraces all men, peoples and nations, and overcomes every evil, which the spirit of darkness is capable of awakening in the heart of man and in his history, and which, in fact, it has awakened in our times.

Oh, how deeply we feel the need for consecration for humanity and for the world: for our contemporary world, in union with Christ himself! The redemptive work of Christ must be shared by the world through the Church.

This is manifested by the present Year of the Redemption: the extraordinary Jubilee of the whole Church.

Be blessed, in this Holy Year, above every creature You, servant of the Lord, who in the fullest manner obeyed the divine call!

Be hailed you, who are wholly united to the redemptive consecration of your Son!

Mother of the Church! Enlighten God's people on the paths of faith, hope and charity! Enlighten especially the peoples whose consecration and entrustment you await. Help us to live in the truth of Christ's consecration for the entire human family of today's world.

3. In entrusting to you, O Mother, the world, all men and all peoples, we also entrust to you the very consecration of the world, placing it in your motherly heart.

Oh, immaculate heart! Help us to overcome the menace of evil, which so easily takes root in the hearts of people today and which in its immeasurable effects already burdens the present life and seems to close the paths to the future!

From hunger and war, deliver us!

From nuclear war, from incalculable self-destruction, from all kinds of war, deliver us!

From the sins against the life of man since its dawning, deliver us!

From hatred and from the degradation of the dignity of God's children, deliver us!

From every kind of injustice in social, national and international life, deliver us!From the easy trampling of God's commandments, deliver us!

From the attempt to obfuscate in human hearts the very truth of God, deliver us!

From the loss of the conscience of good and evil, deliver us!

From sins against the Holy Spirit, deliver us! Deliver us!

Receive, O Mother of Christ, this cry laden with the suffering of all men! Burden us with the suffering of entire societies!

Help us with the power of the Holy Spirit to overcome all sin: the sin of man and the "sin of the world", sin in all its manifestations.

May the infinite saving power of the Redemption be revealed once more in the history of the world: the power of merciful Love! Let it arrest evil! Transform consciences! In Thy Immaculate Heart may the light of Hope be revealed for all!

[Pope John Paul II, Jubilee of Families 25 March 1984]

[...] The liturgy invites us to reflect on the experience of Mary, Joseph and Jesus, united by an immense love and inspired by great trust in God. Today’s Gospel passage (cf. Lk 2:41-52) recounts the journey of the family of Nazareth to Jerusalem, for the celebration of Passover. But, on the return journey, the parents realize that their 12-year-old son is not in the caravan. After three days of searching and fear, they find him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, focused on a discussion with them. At the sight of the Son, Mary and Joseph “were astonished” (v. 48) and the Mother revealed their fear to him, saying: “your father and I have been looking for you anxiously” (ibid.)

Astonishment — they “were astonished” — and anxiety — “your father and I, anxious” — are the two elements to which I would like to call your attention: astonishment and anxiety.

In the family of Nazareth astonishment never waned, not even in a dramatic moment such as Jesus being lost: it is the ability to be astonished before the gradual manifestation of the Son of God. It is the same astonishment that even strikes the teachers of the temple, “amazed at his understanding and his answers” (v. 47). But what is astonishment; what is it to be astonished? Being astonished and being amazed is the opposite of taking everything for granted; it is the opposite of interpreting the reality that surrounds us and historical events according to our criteria alone. A person who does this does not know what amazement is, what astonishment is. Being astonished is being open to others, understanding others’ reasons: this attitude is important for mending compromised interpersonal relationships, and is also indispensable for healing open wounds in the familial environment. When there are problems in families, we take for granted that we are right and we close the door to others. Instead, it is important to think: ‘What is good about this person?’, and to be astonished by this ‘good’. And this helps family unity. If you have problems in the family, think about the good things in the family member with whom you have problems, and be astonished by this. This will help to heal familial wounds.

The second element that I would like to grasp from the Gospel is the anxiety that Mary and Joseph felt when they could not find Jesus. This anxiety reveals Jesus’ centrality in the Holy Family. The Virgin and her husband welcomed that Son, protected him and watched him grow in age, wisdom and grace in their midst, but above all he grew in their hearts; and, little by little, their affection for him and their understanding of him grew. This is why the family of Nazareth is holy: because it was centred on Jesus; all of Mary and Joseph’s attention and concerns were directed toward him.

That anxiety that they experienced in the three days that Jesus was missing should also be our anxiety when we are distant from him, when we are distant from Jesus. We should feel anxious when we forget Jesus for more than three days, without praying, without reading the Gospel, without feeling the need of his presence and of his comforting friendship. And many times, days pass in which I do not remember Jesus. But this is bad, this is really bad. We should feel anxious when these things happen. Mary and Joseph searched for him and found him in the temple while he was teaching: for us too, it is especially in the house of God that we are able to encounter the divine Teacher and receive his message of salvation. In the Eucharistic celebration we have a living experience of Christ; he speaks to us; he offers us his Word; he illuminates us, lights our path, gives us his Body in the Eucharist from which we draw vigour to face everyday difficulties.

And today let us go home with these two words: astonishment and anxiety. Do I know how to be astonished, when I see the good things in others, and in this way resolve family problems? Do I feel anxious when I am distant from Jesus?

Let us pray for all the families in the world, especially those in which, for various reasons, peace and harmony are lacking. And let us entrust them to the protection of the Holy Family of Nazareth.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 30 December 2018]

A God in search of the lost and unequal, to expand our life

[Lk 15:3-7 (1-10)]

Jesus shatters all predictability. In the Son, God is revealed no longer as exclusive property, but as the Power of Love that forgives marginalized and lost: He saves and creates, freeing.

And through his Church He unfolds a Face that recovers, breaks down barriers and calls the wretched.

Jesus wants to awaken the conscience of the "righteous": there is a counterpart of us who supposes of himself, very dangerous, because it leads to exclusion and abandonment.

Instead, inexhaustible Love seeks. And finds the imperfect and restless.

The swamp of stagnant energy that is generated by accentuating the boundaries doesn’t allow you to grow: it locks in the usual positions and lets everyone manage or get lost.

All this made the creative virtues fall into despair. Instead, the Father is searching for the insufficient... Sinner but true, therefore more disposed to transparent love: this is the principle of Redemption.

It’s not the squeamish attitude that unites us to Him. The Lord has no outside interests.

He rejoices with everyone, and it’s the need that draws Him to us. So we are not afraid to let ourselves be found and let ourselves be brought back (v.5)... to His House, which is our home.

If there is a bewilderment, there will be a find, and this is not a loss for anyone - except for the envious of others' freedom (v.2).

In fact, God is not pleased with marginalization, nor does he intend to extinguish the fumiganting wick.

The Son does not come to point the finger at bad moments, but to recover, drawing on intimate involvement. An invincible force of loyalty.

This is the style of a Church with a Sacred Heart, amiable, elevated and blessed.

(What attracts participation and expression is to feel understood, not condemned). Carlo Carretto said: «It’s feeling loved, not criticized, that man begins his journey of transformation».

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti [Brethren All] emphasizes: Jesus - our Engine and Motive - «had an open heart, sensitive to the difficulties of others» (n.84).

And adds as example of Tradition: «People can develop certain habits that might appear as moral values: fortitude, sobriety, hard work and similar virtues. Yet if the acts of the various moral virtues are to be rightly directed, one needs to take into account the extent to which they foster openness and union with others. That is made possible by the charity that God infuses. Without charity, we may perhaps possess only apparent virtues, incapable of sustaining life in common».

«Saint Bonaventure, for his part, explained that the other virtues, without charity, strictly speaking do not fulfil the commandments “the way God wants them to be fulfilled”» (n.91).

Well, human and spiritual riches risk being deposited in a secluded place - if so, they age and debase.

On the contrary, in the assemblies of the sons they are shared: they grow and communicate; by multiplying they revive, with universal benefit.

[Sacred Heart of Jesus (year C), June 27, 2025]

The value of imperfect uniqueness

[Lk 15:3-7 (1-10)]

Why does Jesus speak of joy in reference to the one lost sheep?

The Tao Te Ching (x) says: 'Preserve the One by dwelling in the two souls: are you capable of not letting them separate?'.

Even on the spiritual path, Jesus is careful not to propose a dictated or planned universalism, as if his were an ideal model, 'with the aim of homogenising' (Fratelli Tutti n.100).

The type of communion that the Lord proposes to us does not aim at "a one-dimensional uniformity that seeks to eliminate all differences and traditions in a superficial search for unity."

For "the future is not 'monochromatic', but if we have the courage, we can look at it in the variety and diversity of the contributions that each person can make. How much our human family needs to learn to live together in harmony and peace without all being the same!" (from an Address to young people in Tokyo, November 2019).

Although the piety and hope of the representatives of official religiosity were based on a structure of human, ethnic and cultural securities and a vision of the Mystery consolidated by a great tradition, Jesus shatters all predictability.

In the Son, God is revealed no longer as exclusive property, but as the Power of Love that forgives the marginalised and lost: he saves and creates, liberating. And through his disciples, he reveals his Face that restores, breaks down the usual barriers, and calls the poor multitudes.

It seems like an impossible utopia to achieve in reality (today, with the global health crisis), but it is the meaning of the passing of the baton to the Church, called to be an incessant spur towards the Infinite and a leaven for an alternative world, for integral human development:

"Let us dream as one humanity, as travellers made of the same human flesh, as children of this same earth that hosts us all, each with the richness of his or her faith or convictions, each with his or her own voice, all brothers and sisters!" (FT n.8).

Through an absurd question (formulated rhetorically), Jesus wants to awaken the conscience of the 'righteous': there is a counterpart to us that supposes itself to be very dangerous because it leads to exclusion and abandonment.

Instead, inexhaustible Love seeks. And it finds the imperfect and restless.

The swamp of stagnant energy that is generated by accentuating boundaries does not allow anyone to grow: it blocks people in their usual positions and leaves them to fend for themselves or get lost. This is self-interested indifference, which impoverishes everyone.

All this caused creative virtues to fall into despair.

And it caused those outside the circle of the elect to fall - those who were placed above them but had nothing superior. In fact, Luke describes them as completely incapable of rejoicing in the progress of others.

Calculating, reciting and conformist, the leaders (fundamentalist or sophisticated) are ignorant of reality and use religion as a weapon.

Instead, God is the antithesis of sterile pretenders - or disembodied thinking - and seeks those who wander unsteadily, easily become disoriented, and lose their way. 

Sinners yet true, and therefore more open to genuine love. This is why the Father seeks out the inadequate.

Such clear and spontaneous people, even if weak, hide their best qualities and vocational richness behind their seemingly detestable sides. Perhaps they themselves do not appreciate them.

This is the principle of Redemption that amazes us and makes our often distracted paths interesting, guided by intuition, as if by 'trial and error' - but in Faith, generating self-esteem, trust, fulfilment and joy.

The commitment of the purifier and the impetus of the reformer are 'professions' that appear to be opposed, but they are easy... and typical of those who think that the things to be contested and changed are always outside themselves.

For example, in mechanisms, general rules, legal structures, worldviews, formal (or theatrical) aspects, rather than in the craftsmanship of concrete goods; and so on.

These seem like excuses for not looking within oneself and getting involved, for not encountering one's own deepest states in all aspects and not just in guidelines. And for recovering or cheering up individuals who are genuinely lost, sad, in all their dark and difficult aspects.

But God is the antithesis of the sterilised and the false idealists, and seeks out the inadequate: those who wander and lose their way. Sinners, yet true, and therefore more open to genuine love.

The transparent and spontaneous person - even if weak - hides their best side and vocational richness behind seemingly detestable aspects (perhaps which they themselves do not appreciate).

Let us therefore seek solutions in the mysterious, unpredictable new interpersonal energies that come into play from within things.

Without interfering with ideas of the past or future that we cannot see, or opposing them. Rather, by possessing their soul, their spontaneous medicine.

This is the principle of Salvation that amazes us and makes our paths interesting [often distracted, guided by instinct, as if by 'trial and error'] - ultimately generating self-esteem, credit and joy.

The idea that the Most High is a notary or prince of a court, and that he makes a clear distinction between the righteous and the transgressors, is a caricature.

After all, a saved life is not something we produce ourselves, nor is it our exclusive possession or private property - which turns into duplicity.

It is not a squeamish or cerebral attitude that unites us to Him. The Father does not flatter presumptuous friendships, nor does He have external interests.

He rejoices with everyone, and it is need that draws him to us. So let us not be afraid to let ourselves be found and brought back (v. 5) ... to his house, which is our home.

If there is a loss, there will be a finding, and this is no loss to anyone - except to the envious enemies of freedom (v. 2).

For the Eternal One does not delight in marginalisation, nor does he intend to extinguish the smouldering wick.

Jesus does not come to point the finger at bad moments, but to recover, drawing on intimate involvement. An invincible force of fidelity.

This is the style of a Church with a Sacred Heart, lovable, elevated and blessed.

[What attracts people to participate and express themselves is feeling understood, restored to full dignity - not condemned].

Carlo Carretto said: 'It is by feeling loved, not criticised, that man begins his journey of transformation'.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises once again:

Jesus - our Motor and Motive - 'had an open heart, which made the dramas of others his own' (n. 84).

And it adds, as an example of our great Tradition:

'People can develop certain attitudes that they present as moral values: fortitude, sobriety, hard work and other virtues. But in order to orient their actions properly [...] we must also consider to what extent they bring about a dynamic of openness and unity [...] Otherwise, we will have only appearances'.

"St Bonaventure explained that the other virtues, without charity, do not strictly fulfil the commandments as God intends them" (n.91).

In sects or groups of unilateral inspiration, through pedantic marginalisation, human and spiritual riches are deposited in a secluded place, where they age and deteriorate.

In assemblies of children, however, they are shared: they grow and communicate; multiplying, they are renewed, with universal benefit.

To internalise and live the message:

What attracts you to the Church? When you are with the top students, do you feel judged or adequate?

Do you feel the Love that saves, even if you remain uncertain?

A heart that does not give up

Celebrating the Jubilee of Priests on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, we are called to focus on the heart, that is, on interiority, on the strongest roots of life, on the core of our affections, in a word, on the centre of the person. And today we turn our gaze to two hearts: the Heart of the Good Shepherd and our hearts as shepherds.

The Heart of the Good Shepherd is not only the Heart that has mercy on us, but it is mercy itself. There the love of the Father shines forth; there I feel secure that I am accepted and understood as I am; there, with all my limitations and sins, I taste the certainty of being chosen and loved. Looking at that Heart, I renew my first love: the memory of when the Lord touched my soul and called me to follow him, the joy of having cast the nets of life on his Word (cf. Lk 5:5).

The Heart of the Good Shepherd tells us that his love has no limits, never tires and never gives up. There we see his continuous self-giving, without limits; there we find the source of faithful and gentle love, which leaves us free and makes us free; there we rediscover each time that Jesus loves us “to the end” (Jn 13:1) — he does not stop before, until the end — without ever imposing himself.

The Heart of the Good Shepherd is drawn towards us, “polarised” especially towards those who are furthest away; there the needle of his compass points stubbornly, there he reveals a particular weakness of love, because he wants to reach everyone and lose no one.

Before the Heart of Jesus, the fundamental question of our priestly life arises: where is my heart directed? This is a question that we priests must ask ourselves many times, every day, every week: where is my heart directed? The ministry is often full of many initiatives that expose it on many fronts: from catechesis to liturgy, charity, pastoral and even administrative commitments. Amidst so many activities, the question remains: where is my heart fixed? I am reminded of that beautiful prayer from the Liturgy: "Ubi vera sunt gaudia..." Where is it pointing, what is the treasure it seeks? Because, Jesus says, "where your treasure is, there also will your heart be" (Mt 6:21). There are weaknesses in all of us, even sins. But let us go deeper, to the root: where is the root of our weaknesses, of our sins, that is, where is that "treasure" that distances us from the Lord?

There are two irreplaceable treasures in the Heart of Jesus: the Father and us. His days were spent between prayer to the Father and meeting people. Not distance, but encounter. Even the heart of Christ's shepherd knows only two directions: the Lord and the people. The heart of the priest is a heart pierced by the love of the Lord; for this reason, he no longer looks at himself – he should not look at himself – but is turned towards God and his brothers and sisters. It is no longer a 'dancing heart', which allows itself to be attracted by the suggestion of the moment or which goes here and there in search of approval and small satisfactions. Instead, it is a heart firm in the Lord, captivated by the Holy Spirit, open and available to his brothers and sisters. And there he resolves his sins.

To help our hearts burn with the charity of Jesus the Good Shepherd, we can train ourselves to do three things that today's readings suggest: seek, include and rejoice.

Seek. The prophet Ezekiel reminded us that God himself seeks his sheep (34:11, 16). He, says the Gospel, 'goes in search of the lost' (Lk 15:4), without being frightened by risks; without hesitation, he ventures outside the pastures and outside working hours. And he does not charge overtime. He does not put off the search, he does not think, “I have already done my duty today, and if necessary I will take care of it tomorrow”, but he sets to work immediately; his heart is restless until he finds that one lost sheep. Once he has found it, he forgets his fatigue and carries it on his shoulders, full of joy. Sometimes he has to go out to look for it, to talk, to persuade; other times he has to remain before the tabernacle, wrestling with the Lord for that sheep.

This is the heart he seeks: a heart that does not privatise time and space. Woe to shepherds who privatise their ministry! He is not jealous of his legitimate tranquillity - legitimate, I say, not even that - and never demands not to be disturbed. The shepherd according to God's heart does not defend his own comforts, is not concerned with protecting his own good name, but will be slandered, like Jesus. Without fear of criticism, he is willing to take risks in order to imitate his Lord. "Blessed are you when they insult you, persecute you..." (Mt 5:11).

The shepherd according to Jesus has a heart that is free to leave his possessions behind; he does not live by accounting for what he has and the hours he has served. He is not an accountant of the spirit, but a good Samaritan in search of those in need. He is a shepherd, not an inspector of the flock, and he devotes himself to his mission not fifty or sixty per cent, but with his whole self. By going in search, he finds, and he finds because he takes risks. If the shepherd does not take risks, he does not find. He does not stop after disappointments and does not give up in the face of hardship; he is in fact stubborn in doing good, anointed with divine stubbornness so that no one may be lost. For this reason, he not only keeps the doors open, but goes out in search of those who no longer want to enter. And like every good Christian, and as an example for every Christian, he is always going out of himself. The epicentre of his heart is outside himself: he is decentralised from himself, centred only on Jesus. He is not attracted by his own self, but by the You of God and the us of men.

Second word: include. Christ loves and knows his sheep, he gives his life for them and none of them are strangers to him (cf. Jn 10:11-14). His flock is his family and his life. He is not a leader feared by his sheep, but the Shepherd who walks with them and calls them by name (cf. Jn 10:3-4). And he desires to gather the sheep that do not yet dwell with him (cf. Jn 10:16).

So too is the priest of Christ: he is anointed for the people, not to pursue his own plans, but to be close to the real people whom God, through the Church, has entrusted to him. No one is excluded from his heart, from his prayer and from his smile. With a loving gaze and a father's heart, he welcomes, includes and, when he must correct, it is always to bring closer; he despises no one, but is ready to get his hands dirty for everyone. The Good Shepherd does not wear gloves. As a minister of communion who celebrates and lives, he does not expect greetings and compliments from others, but is the first to offer his hand, rejecting gossip, judgement and poison. He listens patiently to problems and accompanies people on their journey, bestowing divine forgiveness with generous compassion. He does not scold those who leave or lose their way, but is always ready to welcome them back and settle disputes. He is a man who knows how to include others.

Rejoice. God is 'full of joy' (Lk 15:5): his joy comes from forgiveness, from the life that rises again, from the son who breathes the air of home once more. The joy of Jesus the Good Shepherd is not a joy for himself, but a joy for others and with others, the true joy of love. This is also the joy of the priest. He is transformed by the mercy he freely gives. In prayer, he discovers God’s consolation and experiences that nothing is stronger than his love. For this reason, he is serene within himself and happy to be a channel of mercy, to bring people closer to the Heart of God. Sadness is not normal for him, but only temporary; harshness is foreign to him, because he is a shepherd according to the meek Heart of God.

Dear priests, in the Eucharistic celebration we rediscover our identity as shepherds every day. Each time we can truly make his words our own: 'This is my body, which is given for you'. This is the meaning of our life; these are the words with which, in a certain way, we can renew daily the promises of our Ordination. I thank you for your 'yes', and for the many hidden 'yeses' of every day, which only the Lord knows. I thank you for your 'yes' to giving your lives united with Jesus: here lies the pure source of our joy.

(Pope Francis, homily, 3 June 2016)

We are celebrating the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and in the liturgy we peer, as it were, into the heart of Jesus opened in death by the spear of the Roman soldier. Jesus’ heart was indeed opened for us and before us – and thus God’s own heart was opened. The liturgy interprets for us the language of Jesus’ heart, which tells us above all that God is the shepherd of mankind, and so it reveals to us Jesus’ priesthood, which is rooted deep within his heart; so too it shows us the perennial foundation and the effective criterion of all priestly ministry, which must always be anchored in the heart of Jesus and lived out from that starting-point. Today I would like to meditate especially on those texts with which the Church in prayer responds to the word of God presented in the readings. In those chants, word (Wort) and response (Antwort) interpenetrate. On the one hand, the chants are themselves drawn from the word of God, yet on the other, they are already our human response to that word, a response in which the word itself is communicated and enters into our lives. The most important of those texts in today’s liturgy is Psalm 23(22) – “The Lord is my shepherd” – in which Israel at prayer received God’s self-revelation as shepherd, and made this the guide of its own life. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want”: this first verse expresses joy and gratitude for the fact that God is present to and concerned for us. The reading from the Book of Ezechiel begins with the same theme: “I myself will look after and tend my sheep” (Ez 34:11). God personally looks after me, after us, after all mankind. I am not abandoned, adrift in the universe and in a society which leaves me ever more lost and bewildered. God looks after me. He is not a distant God, for whom my life is worthless. The world’s religions, as far as we can see, have always known that in the end there is only one God. But this God was distant. Evidently he had abandoned the world to other powers and forces, to other divinities. It was with these that one had to deal. The one God was good, yet aloof. He was not dangerous, nor was he very helpful. Consequently one didn’t need to worry about him. He did not lord it over us. Oddly, this kind of thinking re-emerged during the Enlightenment. There was still a recognition that the world presupposes a Creator. Yet this God, after making the world, had evidently withdrawn from it. The world itself had a certain set of laws by which it ran, and God did not, could not, intervene in them. God was only a remote cause. Many perhaps did not even want God to look after them. They did not want God to get in the way. But wherever God’s loving concern is perceived as getting in the way, human beings go awry. It is fine and consoling to know that there is someone who loves me and looks after me. But it is far more important that there is a God who knows me, loves me and is concerned about me. “I know my own and my own know me” (Jn 10:14), the Church says before the Gospel with the Lord’s words. God knows me, he is concerned about me. This thought should make us truly joyful. Let us allow it to penetrate the depths of our being.

[Pope Benedict, homily, 11 June 2010]

3. The coincidence of this centenary with the last year of preparation for the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, which is "aimed at broadening the horizons of believers, so that they will see things in the perspective of Christ: in the perspective of the 'Father who is in heaven' (cf. Mt. 5:45)" (Apostolic Letter Tertio millennio adveniente, n. 49) offers a fitting opportunity to present the Heart of Jesus, "the burning furnace of love, ... the symbol and the expressive image of the eternal love with which 'God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son' (Jn 3:16)" (Paul VI, Apostolic Epistle Investigabiles divitias). The Father is love (1 Jn 4:8, 16), and the only-begotten Son, Christ, manifests this mystery while fully revealing man to man. 

Devotion to the Heart of Jesus has given form to the prophetic words recalled by St John: "They shall look on him whom they have pierced" (Jn 19:37; cf. Zec 12:10). It is a contemplative gaze,"which strives to enter deeply into the sentiments of Christ, true God and true man. In this devotion the believer confirms and deepens the acceptance of the mystery of the Incarnation, which has made the Word one with human beings and thus given witness to the Father's search for them. This seeking is born in the intimate depths of God, who loves man eternally in the Word, and wishes to raise him in Christ to the dignity of an adoptive son" (Tertio millennio adveniente, n. 7). At the same time devotion to the Heart of Jesus searches the mystery of the Redemption in order to discover the measure of love which prompted his sacrifice for our salvation. 

The Heart of Christ is alive with the action of the Holy Spirit, to whom Jesus attributed the inspiration of his mission (Lk 4:18; cf. Is 61:1) and whose sending he had promised at the Last Supper. It is the Spirit who enables us to grasp the richness of the sign of Christ's pierced side, from which the Church has sprung (cf. Constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium, n. 5). "The Church, in fact", as Paul VI wrote, "was born from the pierced Heart of the Redeemer and from that Heart receives her nourishment, for Christ "gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word" (Eph 5:25-26)" (Letter Diserti interpretes). Through the Holy Spirit, then, the love which permeates the Heart of Jesus is poured out in the hearts of men (cf. Rom 5:5), and moves them to adoration of his "unsearchable riches" (Eph 3:8) and to filial and trusting petition to the Father (cf. Rom 8:15-16) through the Risen One who "always lives to make intercession for us" (Heb 7:25). 

4. Devotion to the Heart of Christ, "the universal seat of communion with God the Father; ... seat of the Holy Spirit" (8 June 1994; L'Osservatore Romano English edition 15 June 1994, p. 3), aims at strengthening our bond with the Holy Trinity. Thus, the celebration of the centenary of the consecration of the human race to the Sacred Heart prepares the faithful for the Great Jubilee, because it concerns its objective of "giving glory to the Trinity, from whom everything in the world and in history comes and to whom everything returns" (Tertio millennio adveniente, n. 55), and because of its orientation to the Eucharist (cf. ibid.), in which the life that Christ came to bring in abundance (cf. Jn 10:10) is communicated to those who feed on him in order to have life because of him (cf. Jn 6:57). The entire devotion to the Heart of Jesus in its every manifestation is profoundly Eucharistic: it is expressed in religious practices which stir the faithful to live in harmony with Christ, "meek and humble of heart" (Mt 11:29), and it is intensified in adoration. It is rooted and finds its summit in participation in Holy Mass, especially Sunday Mass, where the hearts of the faithful, fraternally assembled in joy, listen to the word of God and learn to offer with Christ themselves and the whole of their lives (Sacrosanctum Concilium, n. 48). There they are nourished at the paschal banquet of the Redeemer's Body and Blood and, sharing fully the love which beats in his Heart, they strive to be ever more effective evangelizers and witnesses of solidarity and hope. 

We give thanks to God, our Father, who has revealed his love in the Heart of Christ and has consecrated us by the anointing of the Holy Spirit (cf. Dogmatic Constitution Lumen gentium, n. 10) so that, in union with Christ, we may adore him in every place and by our holy actions consecrate to him the world itself (ibid., n. 34) and the new millennium. 

Warsaw, 11 June 1999, Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

[Pope John Paul II, Warsaw, 11 June 1999; centenary of the consecration of the human race to the Divine Heart of Jesus]

This celebration of the Jubilee for Priests on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus invites us all to turn to the heart, the deepest root and foundation of every person, the focus of our affective life and, in a word, his or her very core. Today we contemplate two hearts: the Heart of the Good Shepherd and our own heart as priests.

The Heart of the Good Shepherd is not only the Heart that shows us mercy, but is itself mercy. There the Father’s love shines forth; there I know I am welcomed and understood as I am; there, with all my sins and limitations, I know the certainty that I am chosen and loved. Contemplating that heart, I renew my first love: the memory of that time when the Lord touched my soul and called me to follow him, the memory of the joy of having cast the nets of our life upon the sea of his word (cf. Lk 5:5).

The Heart of the Good Shepherd tells us that his love is limitless; it is never exhausted and it never gives up. There we see his infinite and boundless self-giving; there we find the source of that faithful and meek love which sets free and makes others free; there we constantly discover anew that Jesus loves us “even to the end” (Jn 13:1), to the very end, without ever imposing.

The Heart of the Good Shepherd reaches out to us, above all to those who are most distant. There the needle of his compass inevitably points, there we see a particular “weakness” of his love, which desires to embrace all and lose none.

Contemplating the Heart of Christ, we are faced with the fundamental question of our priestly life: Where is my heart directed? It is a question we need to keep asking, daily, weekly… Where is my heart directed? Our ministry is often full of plans, projects and activities: from catechesis to liturgy, to works of charity, to pastoral and administrative commitments. Amid all these, we must still ask ourselves: What is my heart set on? I think of that beautiful prayer of the liturgy, “Ubi vera sunt gaudia”… Where is it directed, what is the treasure that it seeks? For as Jesus says: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Mt 6:21). All of us have our weaknesses and sins. But let us go deeper: what is the root of our failings, those sins, the place we have hid that “treasure” that keeps us from the Lord?

The great riches of the Heart of Jesus are two: the Father and ourselves. His days were divided between prayer to the Father and encountering people. Not distance, but encounter. So too the heart of Christ’s priests knows only two directions: the Lord and his people. The heart of the priest is a heart pierced by the love of the Lord. For this reason, he no longer looks to himself, or should look to himself, but is instead turned towards God and his brothers and sisters. It is no longer “a fluttering heart”, allured by momentary whims, shunning disagreements and seeking petty satisfactions. Rather, it is a heart rooted firmly in the Lord, warmed by the Holy Spirit, open and available to our brothers and sisters. That is where our sins are resolved.

To help our hearts burn with the charity of Jesus the Good Shepherd, we can train ourselves to do three things suggested to us by today’s readings: seek out, include and rejoice.

Seek out. The prophet Ezekiel reminds us that God himself goes out in search of his sheep (Ez 34:11, 16). As the Gospel says, he “goes out in search of the one who is lost” (Lk 15:4), without fear of the risks. Without delaying, he leaves the pasture and his regular workday. He doesn’t demand overtime. He does not put off the search. He does not think: “I have done enough for today; perhaps I’ll worry about it tomorrow”. Instead, he immediately sets to it; his heart is anxious until he finds that one lost sheep. Having found it, he forgets his weariness and puts the sheep on his shoulders, fully content. Sometimes he has to go and seek it out, to speak, to persuade; at other times he must remain in prayer before the tabernacle, struggling with the Lord for that sheep.

Such is a heart that seeks out. A heart that does not set aside times and spaces as private. Woe to those shepherds to privatize their ministry! It is not jealous of its legitimate quiet time, even that, and never demands that it be left alone. A shepherd after the heart of God does not protect his own comfort zone. He is not worried about protecting his good name, but will be slandered as Jesus was. Unafraid of criticism, he is disposed to take risks in seeking to imitate his Lord. “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you….” (Mt 5:11).

A shepherd after the heart of God has a heart sufficiently free to set aside his own concerns. He does not live by calculating his gains or how long he has worked: he is not an accountant of the Spirit, but a Good Samaritan who seeks out those in need. For the flock he is a shepherd, not an inspector, and he devotes himself to the mission not fifty or sixty percent, but with all he has. In seeking, he finds, and he finds because he takes risks. Unless a shepherd risks, he does not find. He does not stop when disappointed and he does not yield to weariness. Indeed, he is stubborn in doing good, anointed with the divine obstinacy that loses sight of no one. Not only does he keep his doors open, but he also goes to seek out those who no longer wish to enter them. Like every good Christian, and as an example for every Christian, he constantly goes out of himself. The epicentre of his heart is outside of himself. He is centred only in Jesus, not in himself. He is not attracted by his own “I”, but by the “Thou” of God and by the “we” of other men and women.

The second word: Include. Christ loves and knows his sheep. He gives his life for them, and no one is a stranger to him (cf. Jn 10:11-14). His flock is his family and his life. He is not a boss to feared by his flock, but a shepherd who walks alongside them and calls them by name (cf. Jn 10:3-4). He wants to gather the sheep that are not yet of his fold (cf. Jn 10:16).

So it is also with the priest of Christ. He is anointed for his people, not to choose his own projects but to be close to the real men and women whom God has entrusted to him. No one is excluded from his heart, his prayers or his smile. With a father’s loving gaze and heart, he welcomes and includes everyone, and if at times he has to correct, it is to draw people closer. He stands apart from no one, but is always ready to dirty his hands. The Good Shepherd does not wear gloves. As a minister of the communion that he celebrates and lives, he does not await greetings and compliments from others, but is the first to reach out, rejecting gossip, judgements and malice. He listens patiently to the problems of his people and accompanies them, sowing God’s forgiveness with generous compassion. He does not scold those who wander off or lose their way, but is always ready to bring them back and to resolve difficulties and disagreements. He knows how to include.

Rejoice. God is “full of joy” (cf. Lk 15:5). His joy is born of forgiveness, of life risen and renewed, of prodigal children who breathe once more the sweet air of home. The joy of Jesus the Good Shepherd is not a joy for himself alone, but a joy for others and with others, the true joy of love. This is also the joy of the priest. He is changed by the mercy that he freely gives. In prayer he discovers God’s consolation and realizes that nothing is more powerful than his love. He thus experiences inner peace, and is happy to be a channel of mercy, to bring men and women closer to the Heart of God. Sadness for him is not the norm, but only a step along the way; harshness is foreign to him, because he is a shepherd after the meek Heart of God.

Dear priests, in the Eucharistic celebration we rediscover each day our identity as shepherds. In every Mass, may we truly make our own Christ’s words: “This is my body, which is given up for you”. This is the meaning of our life; with these words, in a real way we can daily renew the promises we made at our priestly ordination. I thank all of you for saying “yes”, and also for all those many times you secretly say “yes” each day, things that only the Lord knows about. I thank you for saying “yes” to giving your life in union with Jesus: for in this is found the pure source of our joy.

[Pope Francis, homily, 3 June 2016]

Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ [22 June 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! At a time when it seems that the Eucharist is not always at the centre of Christian life, this day invites us to reflect and to place at the heart of our priestly life the daily worthy celebration of the Eucharist and the adoration that prepares for it and continues its contemplation throughout the day.   

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (14:18-20)

Melchizedek is mentioned only twice in the Old Testament: here in the Book of Genesis and in Psalm 109/110, which we also read this Sunday. This character will play an important role for those who were waiting for the Messiah, and even more so among Christians, so much so that he is also mentioned in a Eucharistic prayer. Abraham meets Melchizedek on his return from a victorious expedition. The Bible rarely recounts the celebrations after a military victory, but here there is celebration, and much later, this story is given great importance. These are the facts: a war breaks out between two small coalitions, five against four, and the king of Sodom is among the combatants, but neither Melchizedek nor Abraham are directly involved at the beginning. The king of Sodom is defeated and Lot, Abraham's nephew, is taken prisoner among his subjects. Abraham, upon hearing this, rushes to free him along with the king of Sodom and his subjects. The king of Sodom thus becomes Abraham's ally. At this point, Melchizedek (whose name means 'king of righteousness') intervenes, perhaps for a meal of alliance, but the biblical author does not specify this and, indeed, from this point onwards, focuses the narrative on the figure of Melchizedek and his relationship with Abraham. We have very unusual information about Melchizedek in the Bible: he has no genealogy, he is both king and priest, whereas for many centuries in Israel this was not supposed to happen; he is king of Salem, probably the city that later became Jerusalem when David conquered it to make it his capital; the offering he brings consists of bread and wine and not animals, as will be the sacrifice offered by Abraham, recounted in Genesis 15.  Melchizedek blesses the Most High God and Abraham, who gives him a tithe (a tenth of the spoils of war), and with this gesture recognises his priesthood. These are all details that have clear significance for the sacred author, who focuses on the relationship between royal power and the priesthood: for example, this is the first time the word 'priest' appears in the Bible, and Melchizedek has all the characteristics of a priest: he offers a sacrifice, pronounces a blessing in the name of 'the Most High God who created heaven and earth' and receives a tithe of Abram's goods. There is complete silence about Melchizedek's origins: the Bible attaches great importance to the genealogy of priests, but we know nothing about Melchizedek, the first on the list, and he seems timeless. However, the fact that he is recognised as a priest means that a priesthood existed before the legal establishment of the priesthood in Jewish law linked to the tribe of Levi, son of Jacob and great-grandson of Abraham. In other words, there were priests who were not descended from Levi and therefore 'according to the order of Melchizedek', in the manner of Melchizedek. No exegete can say with certainty who wrote this text, when, or for what purpose. It may date back to the time when the dynasty of David seemed to have died out and a different Messiah was beginning to emerge: no longer a king descended from David, but a priest, capable of bringing the blessing of the Most High God to the descendants of Abraham. Melchizedek, "king of justice and king of peace", is considered an ancestor of the Messiah, as we see more clearly in Psalm 109/110. Abraham was not yet circumcised when he was blessed by Melchizedek, and in the controversies of the early communities formed by circumcised Jews and pagans, Christians deduced that it was not necessary to be circumcised to be blessed by God. Finally, in the offering of bread and wine, which seals a covenant meal, we Christians recognise Christ's gesture in continuity with God's plan. At every Eucharist, we repeat Melchizedek's gesture, accompanying the offering of bread and wine with the words "Blessed are you, God of the universe, from your goodness we have received the bread (wine) that we offer you..."

*Responsorial Psalm (109/110:1-4)

Some of these verses from the psalm are addressed to the new king of Jerusalem on the day of his coronation, a ritual that subtly expressed the expectation of the Messiah, and it was hoped that every newly crowned king would be the Messiah. The ceremony took place in two stages, first in the Temple, then inside the royal palace in the throne room. When the king arrived at the Temple escorted by the royal guard, a prophet placed the diadem on his head and handed him a scroll called 'the Testimonies', i.e. the document of the Covenant concluded by God with the descendants of David containing formulas applied to each king: 'You are my son, today I have begotten you', 'Ask of me and I will give you the nations for your inheritance', and this document also revealed his new name (cf. Isaiah 9:5). The priest anointed him, and the ritual in the Temple ended with the acclamation called "Terouah," a war cry transformed into an ovation for the new king-leader. The procession then wound its way to the Palace, and along the way, the king stopped to drink from a spring, symbolising the new life and strength he had to take on to triumph over his enemies. Once at the palace, the second part of the ceremony took place in the throne room. At this point, today's psalm begins: the prophet speaks on behalf of God, using the solemn formula: 'Oracle of the Lord to my lord', which should be read as 'word of God to the new king'. In the Bible, we find the expression 'to sit on the throne of kings', which means 'to reign'. The new king is invited to climb the steps of the throne and sit down: 'Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool'. Enemy warriors in chains are carved or engraved on the steps of the throne: thus, as he climbs the steps, the king will place his foot on the necks of these soldiers, a gesture of victory and a harbinger of his future victories. This is the meaning of the first verse, to make his enemies the footstool of his feet. The expression 'at my right hand' once had a concrete, topographical meaning: in Jerusalem, Solomon's palace is located south of the Temple (therefore to the right of the Temple, if one faces east), so God reigns invisibly above the Ark in the Temple and the king, sitting on his throne, will be at his right hand. Then the prophet hands the sceptre to the new king; and this is the second verse: 'The sceptre of your power extends from Zion; you rule in the midst of your enemies'. The handing over of the sceptre is a symbol of the mission entrusted to the king, who will rule over his enemies by joining the long line of kings descended from David, who in turn was the bearer of the promise made to David. The king is only a mortal man, but he bears an eternal destiny because God's plan is eternal. This is probably the meaning of the following verse, which is somewhat obscure: "The principality is yours on the day of your power (i.e. the day of your coronation) among holy splendours (you are clothed in the holiness of God and therefore in his immortality). From the womb of the dawn like dew, I have begotten you," a way of saying that it has been planned by God since the dawn of the world. The king remains mortal but, in the faith of Israel, the descendants of David, foreseen from eternity, are immortal. In the same sense, the following verse uses the expression 'forever': 'You are a priest forever', the future king (i.e. the Messiah) will therefore be both king and priest, mediator between God and his people. Here we have proof that, in the last centuries of biblical history, it was thought that the Messiah would also be a priest. Finally, the psalm specifies: priest "according to the order of Melchizedek" because there was the problem that one cannot be a priest unless one is descended from Levi. How can this Law be reconciled with the promise that the Messiah would be a king descended from David of the tribe of Judah and not from Levi? Psalm 109/110 provides the answer: he will be a priest, yes, but in the manner of Melchizedek, king of Salem, who was both king and priest long before the tribe of Levi existed. Psalm 109/110 was sung in Jerusalem during the Feast of Tabernacles to remember God's messianic promises: evoking a scene of enthronement, it was precisely these promises that were thought of in order to keep the hope of the people alive. Rereading this psalm in the New Testament, a new depth was discovered: Jesus Christ is truly that priest 'forever', mediator of the definitive Covenant, victor over man's worst enemy, death. St Paul says this in his first letter to the Corinthians: 'The last enemy to be destroyed will be death, for he has put everything under his feet'.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (11:23-26)

St Paul reveals here the true meaning of the word 'tradition': a precious deposit faithfully handed down from generation to generation. If we are believers today, it is because, for over two thousand years, Christians in every age have faithfully handed on the deposit of faith as in an unbroken relay race. Transmission is faithful when the tradition of the Lord is preserved, as St Paul writes: "I have received from the Lord what I have handed on to you". Only this faithful transmission builds the Body of Christ throughout human history, since it is not the transmission of intellectual knowledge, but of the mystery of Christ, and fidelity is measured by our way of life. This is why Paul is concerned with correcting the bad habits of the Corinthians and affirms that living in fraternal communion is directly connected with the mystery of the Eucharist. Paul writes: Jesus "on the night he was betrayed, took bread". "He was betrayed": Just as he was misunderstood and betrayed, handed over into the hands of his enemies, Jesus "took bread, gave thanks, broke it and said...". He thus has the strength to turn the situation upside down and, from a path of death, performs the supreme gesture of the Covenant between God and humankind, echoing his words: "No one takes my life from me. I lay it down of my own accord" (Jn 10:18). He transforms a context of hatred and blindness into a place of love and sharing: "My body is given for you", a body given for our liberation, and the effectiveness of this gift is linked to the biblical concept of "memorial": "Do this in memory of me".  "This cup is the new covenant in my blood." This formula centres on the theme of the new covenant, taken from Jeremiah (31:31-34) and established not with blood shed on the people (Ex 24), but with his blood and in the Holy Spirit. Here we can understand what forgiveness is, the perfect gift given beyond hatred, pure love that transforms death into a source of life. Only forgiveness is this miracle, and we repeat it in every Eucharist: 'Mystery of faith'. "For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death": we proclaim his death, a testimony of love to the extreme, as the Eucharistic Prayer of Reconciliation reminds us: "his outstretched arms mark the indelible sign of the Covenant" between God and humanity. "We proclaim his death": we commit ourselves to the great work of reconciliation and covenant inaugurated by Jesus. "Until he comes": we are the people of expectation that we proclaim in every Eucharist, and if Jesus invites us to repeat this prayer so often, it is to educate us in the hope that means becoming impatient for his Kingdom in joyful expectation of his coming. Finally, Paul says "until he comes" and not until he returns because Christ has not left us; he is with us until the end of the world (cf. Mt 28:20). Indeed, he never ceases to come because he is a working presence who progressively realises the great divine plan since the creation of the world and asks us to collaborate in it.

NOTE. The last words of the Bible, in Revelation, are precisely "Come, Lord Jesus." The beginning of the book of Genesis spoke to us of the vocation of humanity, called to be the image and likeness of God, and therefore destined to live in love, dialogue and sharing, just as God himself is Trinity. The last word of the Bible tells us that the plan is fulfilled in Jesus Christ, and when we say 'Come, Lord Jesus', we invoke with all our strength the day when he will gather us from the four corners of the world to form one Body.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (9:11b-17)

 For the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, we read the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves, in which Luke certainly wants to emphasise the link with the Eucharist by describing Jesus' gestures with the same words as the Eucharistic liturgy: "He took the five loaves and the two fish, raised his eyes to heaven, recited the blessing over them, broke them and gave them to the disciples": a clear allusion to the disciples of Emmaus (Lk 24:30). Jesus is announcing the kingdom of God, preaching the Gospel and performing miracles. The multiplication of the loaves takes place in this context: it is evening, the disciples are worried about the crowd and suggest sending everyone away so that they can find food for themselves in the surrounding area. Jesus does not accept this solution because the Kingdom of God is a mystery of communion. He is not satisfied with "every man for himself" and proposes his own solution: "You yourselves give them something to eat". But how? Five loaves and two fish, the apostles reply, are only enough for a family, not for five thousand men. Jesus does not want to put them in difficulty, but if he tells them to feed them themselves, it is because he knows they can do it. The disciples respond by offering to go and buy bread, but Jesus has another solution: "Have them sit down in groups of about fifty." He chooses the "solution of gathering" because the Kingdom of God is not an indistinct crowd, but a community of communities. Jesus blessed the loaves, recognising bread as a gift from God to be used to serve the hungry. Recognising bread as a gift from God is a true programme of life, and this is the meaning of the "preparation of the gifts" during Mass. It was formerly called the "offertory," and the liturgical reform of the Second Vatican Council replaced it with the "preparation of the gifts" to help us better understand that it is not we who give something of our own, but rather it is the 'preparation of God's gifts'. By bringing bread and wine, symbols of the entire cosmos and of humanity's work, we recognise that everything is a gift and that we are not masters of what God has given us (both material goods and physical, intellectual and spiritual riches), but only administrators. This gesture, repeated at every Eucharist with faith, transforms us, making us truly stewards of our riches for the good of all. It is precisely in this gesture of generous self-emptying that we can find the courage to perform miracles: when he tells his disciples, "Give them something to eat," Jesus wants them to discover that they have unsuspected resources, but on condition that they recognise everything as a gift from God. Before the hungry of the whole world, he also says to us: "Feed them yourselves," and, like the disciples, we have resources that we are unaware of, provided that we recognise that what we possess is a gift from God and that we are only administrators who reject the "logic of dispersion," that is, thinking only of our own interests. The link between this multiplication of the loaves and the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ thus becomes clear. The three synoptic Gospels recount the institution of the Eucharist on Holy Thursday evening, and Luke adds the Lord's command, "Do this in memory of me," but St John offers us another key: he relates the washing of the feet with Jesus' command to the disciples to do the same. Here, then, are two inseparable ways of celebrating the memorial of Christ: sharing the Eucharist and placing oneself at the service of others.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

House on the Rock or practitioners of vain things

(Mt 7:21-29)

Pope Francis said: «In order to give Himself to us, God often chooses unthinkable paths, perhaps those of our limits, our tears, our defeats».

Hasty builders are content to build directly on the ground; paying attention only to what is seen and experienced (on the spot). They do not dig the house to the core - deep down, in the gold of themselves.

In the inner world everything is reversed: the primacy is of Grace, which displaces, because it takes into account only the essential, inexplicable reality - and our dignified autonomy.

«Too pure water has no fish» [Ts'ai Ken T'an]. Accepting ourselves will complete us: it will make us recover the co-present sides, opposite and shadowed. It’s the leap of the deep Faith.

With the entire Sermon on the Mount - which is coming to an end - Jesus aims to arouse in people a critical conscience about banal and external solutions, something common among the leaders of ancient religiosity.

To build a new Kingdom, the public liturgies abounding in beautiful signs and resounding social greetings are not enough - not even the most striking gifts.

False security is what makes you feel quiet. There is no sick or inmate worse than the one who thinks he’s healthy, arrived and not infected: only here there is no therapy, nor revival.

It will be seen in the moment of the storm, when it will be evident the need to translate the personal relationship with the Lord into life, starting from the ability to welcome gambling.

Merits not grounded in intimately firm beliefs will not hold the whirlwind of trial.

«Practitioner of vain things» that is inconsistent [it’s the meaning of the Greek text that introduces the Gospel passage (v.23)].

They are the standard-bearers of an empty spirituality, who despite the paint - with even spectacular sides - have nothing to do with God.

Are there foundations behind a front of butterflies? You understand it in the storm, and if you become «rock» even for the invisible - not tourists of the "spirit" who praise praise and do not risk.

Security does not come from adapting to customs and obligations, nor from being admired (at least) like others, which makes the Common House unhealthy.

Our specific and hallmark of the Faith is not an identity drawn from protocols or the manners - it plays on appearances and not on the only strong point: the attitude of pilgrims in Christ.

We are only firm in the prophetic royal priestly dignity, which is given to us in an unrepeatable Gift and will never be the fruit of deriving from consent.

We live to follow a deep Vocation: Root, Spring and Engine of our most intimate fibers; related to the dreams and naturalness of each one.

Only relying on the soul is an authentic platform, true salvation and medicine.

The Mission will reach the existential peripheries, starting from the Core.

It seems senseless, paradoxical, incredible, but for every Called the Rock on which he can and must build his way of taking the field... is Freedom.

[Thursday 12th wk. in O.T.  June 26, 2025]

House on the Rock or practitioners of vain things

(Mt 7:21-29)

Pope Francis said: "In order to give himself to us, God often chooses unthinkable paths, perhaps those of our limitations, our tears, our defeats.

The Lord's call is not Manichean, but profound.

Our behaviour has fascinating roots. Lights and shadows of our being remain in dynamic relationship.

At times, however, our discomforts or distortions are the result of an excess of 'light' - detached from its opposite. 

Such excess is willingly associated with the claim to exorcise the dark aspect in us, which we would like to conceal for social reasons.

It seems to us that the business card should only reflect our bright, loose, serious, and performing appearance.

Perhaps, a moral style all of a piece - at least at first glance.

However, those who become attached to their bright side and even try to promote it for reasons of look (also ecclesiastical), established culture, habit (also religious), run the risk of enhancing the other side.

Beware: in every man there is always a side that misfires, that fails; and not one-sidedly.

Perhaps it is precisely in those who preach the good that there is the most pronounced danger of neglecting its co-present opposite - which sooner or later will break through, will find its place.

Blowing up the whole house of cards. But to achieve something alternative and absolutely not contrived.

For those who embark on a path of 'perfection', their own counterpart only seems a danger.

And conditioned by the models, we continue to play [our] already identified 'part'.

Yet in the dark side are hidden resources that the light-only side does not have.

In the dark side we read our character seed.

Here is the therapy and healing of the discomforts that we rush to conceal (in the family, with friends, in the community, at work).

The dark aspects [selfishness, coldness, closure, introversion, sadness] lurk within; no point in denying it.

It is rather worth considering them as a source of characterising primordial energies.

It is indeed concealment - sometimes depression itself - that makes us fish for unimaginable solutions.

As if we were a grain planted in the earth, which wants its existence. And it finally wants natural life, which develops its capacities.

It is precisely the emotions that we dislike and ourselves detest - like the muddy, dark earth - that reconnect us with our deepest essence.

In short, the unpleasant emotional states will be the well from which other ideas, other guiding 'images', new insights; different sap come to us. And change.

Light does not possess all possibilities, all dynamism. On the contrary, it not infrequently seems to be declined [by the traditions themselves] in a fictitious, reductive way.

In chiaroscuro, conversely, we no longer pretend. For it is the foundation of the house of the soul.

All this we consider, for a solid harmony, which arises from within.

Paradoxes of the Personal Vocation: if we did not follow it to the full, we would continue to follow misconceptions, or the styles of others.

And we would become sick. Evil will take over.

If structured on an abstract, local, or bogus identity, this is where the storm could destroy everything.

In our trial and error, we must keep all aspects - which we have come to know over time, and realised are part of us - beside us.

This will change the solidity of our relationship with ourselves, others, nature, history, and the world.

Conformity between conduct and intention of the heart overcomes hypocrisy, but conformity between Word and life is not set up by practising automatisms, nor by surrendering to others' convictions.

In the post-lockdown we are realising this sharply.

It used to be thought that training (especially of the young) also chiselled the soul, and everything flowed naturally into choices; into means, results, external works, and even dreams: "Tell me what you do and I will tell you who you are".

Instead, qualitative attunement with the Mystery and the Word of Christ is not achieved by setting it up, but is found within (each of us) enigmatically, and from the depths - as a pure secret Gift, for creative independence.

Haste, fear of failure, the culture of concatenation and stability, intentions (even 'spiritual' ones) or, conversely, flattery of tranquillity; ambitions, cravings to be recognised, lack of detachment, ambition, fear of being excluded, difficulty in shifting one's gaze... all lead to ignorance of the Mystery.

Deprived of depth, we will be condemned not to dig deep even within ourselves; perpetually at the mercy of particular roles, of spheres and their events; of occasional or local relationships.

Hasty builders are content to build directly on the ground; looking only at what they see and experience (on the spur of the moment). They do not dig the house down to the ground - into the depths, into the gold of self.In the inner world and its hidden power, everything is overturned: the primacy is of Grace, which displaces, because it only takes into account the essential, inexplicable reality - and our dignified autonomy.

The rest will unfortunately be destined to collapse ruinously, because it does not remain grounded in the Word, in character (albeit magmatic, but strongly potential)... nor in the vocational relationship with God and things, or in the most genuine communion (conviviality and shared richness of differences).

We experience a laceration, even in times of emergency: the inner world is stronger and more convincing, yet the outer world does not want to give way to the immediate goals. Indeed, we are still drawn to them.

But the latter we know well that they do not reactivate any stage of specific weight, as our young inner being does spontaneously - almost like a baby we carry in gestation.

Generally speaking, even on the 'spiritual' path we immediately fall into the coveted character we would like to be: here we do not grow, we are only turned on by futilities, nor do we realise that they are not our 'owners'.

Of course, the immediate external goal does not suffer the wait of the long necessary evolution of having to give birth to oneself (even in anguish and loneliness) stage after stage; which is activated and reactivated without comfort and security.

Yet we are born to take flight, not to tracing and becoming photocopies in the soul.

Thus all that is valuable will be in the oscillation, because a path of personal specific weight is configured according to the gift of our uniqueness.

And uniqueness will be achieved in the process of every side of us, of every side of the personality - even apparently petty or sketchy; even unflattering from the point of view of religious tranquillity (which will also have had its value).

Jesus does not intend to distinguish the good from the bad [cf. vv.15-20 and the parallel passage in Lk 6:43-45] in a trivial way: he wants us to live fully, in integral oneness, and perceive well.

The Lord does not propose an imprisoned destiny; rather, a reversal of meaning.

His is an admonition to sharpen our gaze, and set it within - not leave it outside, to observe ephemeral results, those of obviousness and hype; and then stop, don't experience too many jolts... as if we were in a relaxation zone.

The Unit of measurement in Christ is not the immediately perceptible to the eye, nor is it 'progress' per se, but rather: 'the value of every part'.

It is precisely the awareness of limitation that becomes a transformative principle in us. And every imperfection calls to Exodus.

To deny one's boundaries is to allow oneself to be hijacked by common views, devoid of Mystery - with horizons reduced to a single 'word'.

It is e.g. the severe crisis that stimulates the upheaval of an ostentatious but competitive and dehumanising system (also economic), with corrupt inner principles - although they once appeared to us as absolutes.

Why not be content, if we roughly manage? Because forced identification has taken away freedom, even the freedom to admit that we are made of light and shadow.

It is not disturbance that deprives women and men of eloquent vocational emancipation.

Even each one who beats his chest, does so in a particular way; and recognises himself in symbiosis with his own Name.

Then to each age of life - as to each era - touches its 'sin', which is not a monster but a symptom that speaks precisely of the personal, moral, cultural, social Calling.

Even if one does not like it, the oscillation must be understood, not criticised and accused.

I would even say welcomed and re-elaborated - not simplistically rejected, with attitudes of artificial distance or gestures of ambiguous virtue, which make one external and return to the starting point.

Today, the lack of complete life and beautiful relationships, the general upheaval, the restlessness of the soul - the nervousness, the dissatisfaction - force us to abandon both the ancient and fascinating devotional securities and the disembodied 'à la page' sophistications.

All in favour of concrete and personal situations, in the horizon of the unrepeatable vocation and the leap of Faith that opens up to coexistence.

"Too pure water has no fish" [Ts'ai Ken T'an].

Accepting ourselves without reserve will introduce us into a dizzying, awe-inspiring experience: with the amazement produced by the recovery of co-present, opposite and shadowed sides. As many as brothers and sisters.

Perhaps we will find that they are the most activating and fruitful.

Not the ethics of perfection and homologated distinctions, but the vituperated chaos and our inner demons will paradoxically become the best companions along the way, and the only true ones; coryphaeans of an astonishing Mission.

After all, works are the fruit of our thoughts and desires. The latter certainly also spring from a good, varied training, but not in a mechanical sense.

It is also crucial here not to be foiled. Bad discernment destroys the authentic Rock, which coincides with one's spontaneous Guidance to completeness.

The stable foundation of our itinerary is the Freedom to accept and the Freedom to correspond to the unrepeatable character - our own - of the instinct to fulfil ourselves.

In fact, Jesus detaches himself not only from ancient religion, but even from the - rather crude - messianic strands of early times (e.g. Jas 3:11-12).

This is not why the Master denies the profound spirit of the ancient Holy Scriptures, indeed he captures their heart: Qo 3:14; 7:13-18; Sir 37:13-15 [and many other passages (unbelievable for the mentality in which we have been educated)].

So it is not enough to say: 'Lord, Lord' (vv.21-22). It is not enough to formally recognise the Son of God.

One must sift through his call in being, make it one's own and understand it fully, so that it is not corrupted and disfigured into inessential forms of puerile external conformity.

In insecurity, many people demand expressions of power, seek overt strength; they settle for moral paradigms, look for forms of immediate assurance, or crave renowned guides (who perpetuate and comfort their defensive path).

Paralysing illusions... even in the path of Faith.

On this path one does not build expected happiness, nor any solidity at all, but day after day one's own sadness - as is evident from too many events, finally from the most occult forms of compensation (now unmasked).

There is no guru who can put things right at the root.

Our Seed is what it is: it is necessary to discover its virtues, even and especially the unexpected ones - which derive from the essence and magmatic and plastic forms of even opposing energies.

It is useless to 'cure' oneself according to a conformist homologation that does not belong to the personal Core.

The soul has an autonomous life, suspending contexts, distances; it exists within and also outside the passing of time - like Love. 

Everyone is a multiplicity of co-existing faces - to be given space for greater wholeness.

This matters, and allying oneself with one's limits: embracing what the surrounding environment or the conventionalist cultural paradigm - which defends its territory - deems perhaps inconclusive (so on).

We preside over other boundaries.

What we do not like is perhaps our best part.

In any case, giving voice to tensions means finally being able to name them, to accommodate them worthily - so that they have fuller joys.

And let them cross the threshold of the joy of living, hence of authentic reliability.

By sweeping away the anxiety of imperfection, we will find a more harmonious, energetic steadiness.

By embracing frailties along with rebellions, we will not live half-heartedly; on the contrary, we will experience fullness of being (vital and snappy).

By not feeling trapped all the time, we will be able to fly away.

But that certain tranquil situations are counterfeit narrowness and cut-offs of the soul, we can realise at once: in the radical discomforts that surface.

Many continue in vain to seek futile confirmations: in the search for extraordinary gifts or in the meticulousness of observances.

However, this is not the pedagogy that educates and launches life in the Spirit out of extrinsic mechanisms.

Nor is it enough to truly overcome the storms by 'doing God's will' (in a disciplined but) unfriendly self-consciousness.

No form of inculcated exteriority can convince us.

Let alone make us become a 'rock' - or small bulwark - to persuade, capacitate, strengthen others.

The difference between common religiosity and personal faith?

Life in the humanising and divine condition of preciousness opens up varied paths - of abysses even, but full of inner experiences; of unimaginable quests and discoveries, where we can be ourselves.

In the sphere of Faith, there are no longer sacred times, places, knowledge, models - all epidermal, if plastered - that are not also unprecedented and personal.

Union with the Lord, the Rock from which we have been as if cut and extracted, is not a track or a groove, but a fundamental option.

It leaves a free rein on the particular inclination and colour of each one.

With the entire Sermon on the Mount - here at the end of the day - Jesus aims at arousing in people a critical consciousness about trivial and external solutions. This is common among the leaders of ancient popular and official religiosity.

To build a new kingdom, public liturgies overflowing with beautiful signs with the right creed, and resounding social obsequies - not even the most conspicuous gifts - are not enough.

False security is that of those who profess ... but perform only conformist acts and reflect aligned ideas - so they feel OK.

There is no sick person or recluse worse than the one who considers himself healthy, arrived and uninfected: only here there is no therapy, no revival.This will be seen at the time of the storm, when the need to translate the personal relationship with the Lord into life, starting with oneself and the ability to accept the gamble of Love, will become evident.

Merits not rooted in intimately firm convictions - gestures produced by intrigue, calculation and contrived attitudes - will not withstand the whirlwind of the test.

"Practitioners of vain things", that is, inconsistent [this is the meaning of the Greek text that introduces the Gospel passage (v.23)] are the standard-bearers of an empty spirituality, which despite its varnish, with even spectacular sides, has nothing to do with God.

Conveniently, the 'masters' who stand in the way of the personal implications seem willing to go back on any adherence, plotting the reversal of their own proclamations - because they are prisoners in merit (instead of as they appear: leaders).

They do not yet reveal the divine Face, but rather a calculating, qualunquistic opposite.

They live to get by - along with the club to which they belong - and obtain only immediate recognition, obsequiousness, and alms of consensus around them.

And this despite the great disciplines of censorship that they advocate:

They do not correct the separation between teaching and personal commitment: they may preach the true God and (always) great things every day - but as if by trade.

The intriguers multiply formulas and symbolic gestures, like soporific drugs... but they are the first not to believe what they say and repeatedly impose on others.

Full of obtuse pretensions on people, they do not understand the Father, God of the desperate, exiled and mocked, who resurrects the non-elect - the deprived of a future; not the insured for life, commanded by self-interest and appearance.

Are there foundations behind a façade of butterflies? One understands this in the storm, and if one becomes a 'rock' even for the invisible - not tourists of the 'spirit' who praise praise and do not risk.

Therefore, security does not come from conforming to customs and fulfilments, nor from being admired (at least) as much as others. Fiction that makes the common house unhealthy.

Our specific and figure of Faith is not a 'cultural' identity drawn from protocols or manners - a plot that plays on appearances and not on the one strong point: the attitude of pilgrims in Christ.

We are steadfast only in the priestly prophetic royal dignity, which is given as an unrepeatable gift and will never be the result of deriving from consensus.

Nor of appearing, of saying and not saying, of building ourselves up; of adapting to the forces in the field, of struggling to float.

We live to follow a profound Vocation: Root, Spring and Motor of our intimate fibres; related to the dreams and naturalness of each one.

Only trusting the soul is an authentic platform, true salvation and medicine.

The Mission will reach the existential peripheries, starting from the Core.

It seems senseless, paradoxical, unbelievable, but for every Called One the Rock on which he can build his way is Freedom.

To internalise and live the message:

When the storm hits your house, do you imagine a great fall? What is the rock on which your community is built? Is it interested in your naturalness or does it want to conform to you?

Do you know people with strong prophetic, apostolic or thaumaturgical activity, who give the feeling of a familiarity with God that is only extraordinary or circumstantial, perhaps apparent?

What is the reason, in your opinion? Do you think they have ever really surrendered to themselves and the quintessence of their Calling by Name?