The scandal of waiting

(Lk 18:1-8)

In the 80s the communities of Asia Minor suffered persecution because the emperor of Rome [the star Domitian] wanted to be venerated as god.

The official religious institution - servile and flattering - adapts itself. Christians not - aware of their own dignity and project of an alternative world.

Lk intends to encourage faithful and communities victims of abuse by highlighting how to reach the most effective disposition, capable of undermining the blackmail of social estrangement underway.

The ‘silence of God’ over abuses and domination of bullies posed questions and raised reserves of faith.

But in the parable, the irresponsible judge is not the Father! The unjust is icon that dramatizes the condition in which the disciples (without Master) come to be found in a world of cunning people.

Here is the «widow»: the community of the new ‘Anawim, poor of Yahweh [in the Gospels «ptōchôis»] ie defenseless, exposed to abuse - who have the Lord as their only hope.

They don’t remain on the surface of situations. They perceive the signs of the new Kingdom - of an alternative humanity - and crave them.

Lk says: the only means of finding oneself and not losing one’s founding energy is Prayer. It is not a folding in on oneself (vv.3.7).

The prayer of the sons is rather a forward action. A sort of leap that becomes magnetic and finally takes possession with force of his deep desire.

An embezzlement. As St. Bernard said: «How much I miss, I usurp from the side of Christ».

In short, Christian prayer has the same step of the Faith, and its multifaceted sides.

So it doesn’t plant us on the spot: it becomes a Source that induces rash gestures.

Why? At certain times things change. In the "world", only by calculation - but that said, even the most banal interests move something (vv.4-5).

There are aspects of our Dialogue with God characterized by traits of assent. But the “colourful” part of prayer comes when one enters the spousal climate - of listening, intuition; also of struggle and personal quarrel.

They result in a sort of reading of one’s own story’s weight, of the time’s genius and the grips for an actualization, which brings us out of mediocrity: take it or leave.

In short, prayer is a concrete gesture. It puts us in touch with a ‘vision’ that gives indications. Vocation at all costs.

A sort of primordial energy that comes back to heal and direct situations.

Not only is it the great tool for not losing head, and a means not to discourage.

Rather, a pungent and annoying action, with an attractive effect - as a ‘magnet’.

The dynamic, not very reassuring nest of prayer, brings us back to the Core of essence, to the eminent Self; to the realm of the Call by Name.

It becomes Reading and Intuition that meets the deep states.

It’s in shift of gaze and Vision that we actualize the future.

In this way, prayer itself guides us to the realization of our individual and ministerial-ecclesial being.

In fact, it creates: suddenly places (v.8) the appropriate conditions, the acute moments of the turning - because it lives Elsewhere, and in the base of the soul.

It sees God in the furrows of history, therefore it activates the energies of becoming: it drags reality, attracts it.

It enshrines and actualizes what is ‘coming’; it questions and stirs up the institution that tends to wither.

With his Rudder, even among too many mists, it plows through the waves of ageing toxins, flies over the harassment; moves the world and our whole life.

[Saturday 32nd wk. in O.T.  November 15, 2025]

The scandal of waiting and the kidnapping of the prelates

(Lk 18:1-8)

In the 80s, communities in Asia Minor suffered persecution because the emperor of Rome [the divine Domitian] demanded to be worshipped.

The official religious institution - servile and flattering - complies with the diktats of the Caesar on duty. 

Christians do not - aware of their own dignity and alternative world project, linked to a new face of God: no longer legislator and judge, but Creator and Redeemer of our intelligence, development and freedom.

The assemblies of the early believers are thus faced with hardships, discrimination and weariness that may be beyond their strength, but not their conscience.

Lk encourages believers and communities that are victims of abuse, with a narrative catechesis that emphasises how to arrive at the most effective disposition, capable of undermining the blackmail of social estrangement.

In fact, a kind of marginalisation (devious rather than violent) imposed by the religious and political authorities, by all the cliques in power.

If our gaze is obscured by conventions, the 'silence of God' in the face of abuses and the domination of bullies raises questions and raises reservations of faith.

[Today also for the kind of Church nostalgic for Constantine, or vice versa à la page; of later cynicism or disembodied superimpositions, and of many mists - not catacombs].

Certainly prayer does not force the Father to obey us, but our insistence is a sign of a living relationship, not a formal one.

This is the case even when it may happen that we become exhausted and (while remaining on the surface) do not consider the Creator entirely innocent in the face of evil and degradation.

But such an approach would cause us to miss the course of the King who reveals himself within... hiding in the furrows of events, and surfacing in hearts.

In the parable, the irresponsible judge is not the Father!

The unjust 'jurist' - a man of power - is an icon that dramatises the condition in which the disciples find themselves, deprived of the Master.

The authentic witnesses find themselves in a world of cunning, impregnated with ideology and the practice of having, power, appearing. Configurations that suffocate any yearning for genuine life.

Here is the "widow": the community of the new 'Anawim, Yahweh's poor [in the Gospels "ptōchôis"], that is, defenceless, exposed to abuse, deprived of worldly support - who have the Lord as their only hope.

Despite their shaky condition, the masses, though deprived of energy, do not desire conformity. They do not linger in adapting themselves to wiles - by dislodging themselves - without a Fire, a vital wave; without within a travelling companion to perceive, to welcome, to listen.

They reason and act from the hidden core of being and evolving. They do not remain at the bark of situations. They desire to be reborn.

They grasp the signs of the new emerging kingdom - of an alternative humanity - and yearn for them.

Should they lose the core, the meaning, they should return to learning to see in everything a calling, an infinity, an outside of time.

And a way of looking at themselves that is different from common sense. Us too: as if we were all lying on the foundational energy of our Dream - unique, personal, integral - that truly belongs to us.

Lk says: the only way to find ourselves and not lose the game of our character identity as children and critical witnesses is Prayer.

It is not the devout, predictable chanting that would put us to sleep (vv.3.7). Nor is it understood as religious duty: performance, formula, nerve-racking obligation; recognition of the honour due to the Master, or retreat.

It is evident from the tone of the narrative: the children's tu-per-tu is not an avalanche of pious emotions, rather an action forward.

A kind of leap that becomes magnetic and finally seizes powerfully on his deep desire.

An undue appropriation, but a corroborated one; not set up, or by our own merits, but through those of Christ - through the tenacious intuition he instils.

As St Bernard said: 'How much I miss the usurpation from the side of Christ'!

I recall the account of a great Roman parish priest ordained a priest by Paul VI who confided to me that he had participated in a blitz in the very Seminary I know so well. At the end of the celebration of a Eucharist (!) with distinguished guests, the students in revolt against the traditionalist prelates and professors of the Lateran - not at all intimidated by the rank of the sequestered - locked them in the sacristy, to force the various beautiful names present to yield to their demands for freedom [of readings and other]. They won the game shamelessly, unceremoniously - and some of the professors present changed their line on the spot (cf. v.8). Today those former seminarians are landmarks in the capital, all in the pastoral vanguard, people determined to follow their Calling. Real tough faces, who do not resign themselves. Impertinent, but imposing the appropriate developments, for everyone. They know: to lose sight of one's mission would mean losing the meaning of life, no longer knowing how to be with oneself, with others and with reality; finally, falling ill, because one would otherwise choose to live in a swamp, compulsorily slumbering.

Christian Prayer has the same pace as Faith, not only peacefully dialoguing - and in such nodal traits it can be described through its own multifaceted facets.

So it does not plant us on the spot: it becomes a Source that induces reckless, brazen and inappropriate actions; totally inappropriate.

Why? At certain times, things change. In the 'world', just by calculation - but having said that, even the most trivial interests move something (vv.4-5).

There are aspects of our relationship with God characterised by traits of assent.

But the colourful part of prayer comes when we enter into a spousal atmosphere - of listening, intuition; also of personal struggle and quarrelling.

Such true moments result in a kind of reading of the weight of one's own story, of the genius of the time, of the footholds for actualisation.

Vision and 'pulse' that takes us out of mediocrity. Exodus dynamics corroborated by unrepeatable sensibilities and inclinations.

In short, we are not qualunquists, nor do-gooders, but ourselves: take it or leave it.

Even if in prayer we are not triggered by a pious disposition but by anger, that wrath will be embodied in our hands.

That same 'wrath' will become energy to build the prophetic present - and to critically anticipate the future - without, however, 'raging' [v.1 Greek text].

In short, prayer is a concrete gesture: it puts us in contact with a Vision that gives direction.

Living Prayer brings us closer to the world, through the inner gaze: in the perception of an innate Image that is our clear mirror and Vocation at all costs.

Here, a kind of primordial energy arises; to heal and direct situations.

Not only is it the great tool not to lose one's head, and a means not to discourage.

Rather than fall back, here is a prickly and annoying action, which recovers the whole being dispersed in a thousand questing events, with an attractive, positively uplifting effect - a magnet.

The dynamic, not very reassuring nest of prayer takes us back to the Core of the essence, to the eminent Self; into the realm of the Calling by Name.

It becomes Reading and Intuition encountering the profound states.

It is in such a shift of gaze and Vision that we actualise the future.

In this way, prayer itself guides us to the realisation of our individual and ministerial-ecclesial [or para-ecclesial] being.

For it creates: it suddenly [v.8 Greek text] places the fitting conditions, the acute moments of the turning point - because it lives Elsewhere, and in the base of the soul.

It discerns God in history, therefore it activates the energies of becoming: it drags reality, it attracts it.

He sanctions and actualises what is coming; he questions and stirs the institution that tends to wither.

With his helm, even in the midst of too much fog, he ploughs through the storms of ageing toxins, he flies over anguish, he unravels the world and our whole life.

"The gift is so great that no eye has ever seen it, for it is not colour; no ear has ever heard it, for it is not sound; nor has it ever entered the heart of man (cf. 1 Cor 2:9), for it is there that the heart of man must enter. We shall receive it with all the greater ability, the firmer our faith, the firmer our hope, the more ardent our desire. We therefore always pray in this same faith, hope and charity, with unceasing desire. But at certain times and in certain circumstances, we also address God with words, so that, through these signs, we may stimulate ourselves and at the same time realise how far we have progressed in our holy aspirations, spurring us on with greater ardour to intensify them. For the more vivid the desire, the richer the effect. And therefore, what else do the words of the Apostle mean: "Pray unceasingly" (1 Thess 5:17) if not this: Desire, without tiring, from him who alone can grant it, that blessed life, which would be worth nothing if it were not eternal?".

S. Augustine, "Letter to Proba"

Continuous Prayer: a condition of grace and strength, which does not fail.

Failing without failing: unceasing struggle with ourselves and with God

(Mt 7:7-12)

Sometimes we put the Father in the dock, because he seems to let things go as our freedom directs them.

But his design is not to make the world work to the perfection of transistors (of yesteryear) or integrated circuits (in their respective 'packages') or 'chips' [various 'bits']...

God wants us to acquire a New Creation mindset. His Action moulds us to the Son, transforming projects, ideas, desires, words, standard behaviour.

At first, prayer may perhaps seem tinged with mere requests. The more one proceeds in the experience of prayer in the Spirit of Christ, the less one asks.

The demands diminish, until they almost cease.

Desires for accumulation, or revenge and triumph, give way to listening and perception.

The penetrating eye becomes aware of what is at hand and of the unusual - in the increasingly conscious welcoming, which becomes real contemplation and union.

We do not know how long, but the 'result' comes suddenly: not only certain, but disproportionate.

But as if extracted from a process of continuous incandescence, where there are no logical networks, no easy shortcuts.

We receive the ultimate and complete Gift. And we can host it with dignity. A new Creation in the Spirit, a different Face.

An unexpected Face - not simply the fantasised or well-arranged one (as passed on by the family or expected on the side).

God allows events to take their own course, seemingly distant from us; therefore prayer can take on dramatic overtones and provoke irritation - as if it were an open dispute between us and Him.

But He chooses not to be the guarantor of our outer dreams. He does not allow Himself to be introduced into petty limits.

He wants to involve us in more than just our goals, which often conform too much to what is right under our noses.

It invents expanded horizons, but in this labour it must be clear that we must not fail ourselves. That is, to the character of our essence and vocation.

All this, precisely by failing ourselves - that is, by surrendering the rigid point of view and dialoguing with our deepest layers.

This process shifts the conditional emphasis.

It is not that God delights in being relentlessly prayed to and bent over by the poor.

It is we who need time to meet our own souls and allow ourselves to be introduced to another kind of agenda that is not conformist and predictable.

Reading happenings according to totally 'inadequate', eccentric or excessive views, less contracted within the usual armour (and so on) can open the mind.

The expansion of the gaze increases intuition, modifies feelings, transforms, activates. It grasps other designs, opens up different horizons - with intermediate results that are already prodigious, certainly unpredictable.

When someone believes he has understood the world, he already conditions further, more intense desires that would like to invade our space.

This artificial 'nature' of spurious set-ups, external or other, blocks the itinerary towards the nature of character, the true personal call and mission.

Prayer must be insistent, because it is like a view laid upon oneself; not as we thought: authentically. 

The inner eye serves to make a kind of clear, individual space within, which opens to our and others' Presence, all to be looked at (in the way that counts).

It will be the wisest, strongest and most reliable travelling companion... carrying our identity-character and not pulling the essential self of the person elsewhere.

The conscious emptying out of the piled-up junk (by ourselves or others) must be filled over time by an intensity of Relation.

Here is the interpersonal dialogue-listening with the Source of being.

In it is nested our particular Seed: there the difference of face that belongs to us is seated and in bloom.

It will be the radical depth of the relationship with our Root - perhaps lost in too many regular, even elevated or functioning expectations - that will confer another, more convincing Way.

And it will uncover the unique tendency and destination that belongs to us, for Happiness we did not think of.

Goals, resolutions, disciplines, memories of the past, dreams of the future, searches for reference points, habitual evaluations of possibilities, piles of merit... are sometimes ballasts.

They distract from the soil of the soul, where our grain would like to take root to become what is in the heart.

And from the kernel make one understand the proposal of Mission received - not conquered, nor possessed - so that it grants another prodigious character (not: visibility).

Often the mental and affective system recognises itself in an album of thoughts, definitions, gestures, forms, problems, titles, tasks, characters, roles and things already dead.

Such a morphology of interdiction loses the authentic present, where, on the contrary, the divine Dream that completes - realising us in specificity - takes root.

So, here is the therapy of the absolute present in Listening - of non-planning; starting with each one.

This in the conscious gap of that part of us that seeks security, approval, and panders to trivialities.Through unceasing dialogue with the Father in prayer, we make space for the roots of Being, which (in the meantime) is already filling us with views and opportunities for a different fate.

By reactivating the exploratory charge stifled in the gears, we create the right gap and start again in the Exodus.

To settle, to stop, to settle in one spot, would turn even qualitative conquests into a land of new slavery.

It would oblige us to recite and retrace milestones that have already been conquered - which conversely we are by vocation called upon to cross.

Exodus... within a springing, cosmic and identifying Relationship, singularly foundational.

Through prolonged Listening in prayer, we children acquire knowledge of the soul and the Mystery.

We dwell long in the House of our very special essence.

Thus we plant it - or root it even deeper - in order to understand it and recover it completely, clear and full.

Now freed from the destiny mapped out in a narrow environment, already marked but devoid of dreams.

When we are ready, Oneness will come into the field with a new solution, even an extravagant one.

It will give birth to what we really are, at our best - within that chaos that solves real problems. And from wave to wave it will leap to Goal.

Away with the definitions and aspirations of nomenclature, in a kind of coming undone of ourselves - in a state of 'discharge' but full of potential energy - we will give space to the new Germ that knows best.

Already here and now our distinctive and unmistakable Plant wants to touch the divine condition.

Continuous prayer (incessant listening and perception) excavates and disposes of the volume of trivial redundant thoughts in this space.

Opportunities open up in this interstice and 'emptiness'. Inner cleansing is created so that the Gift - not second-hand - arrives.

Do we desire a decisive conversion? Do we desire the call to the totality of humanising existence, without limitations and in our uniqueness?

[Then divine action can reach anyone? Does it touch any face? And how does one not break it?].

Why not now the new beginning? Prayer and the 'new fullness' of the Spirit become for us - growing children - the milk of the soul.

This Sunday's Liturgy offers us a fundamental teaching: the need to pray always, without tiring. At times we grow weary of praying, we have the impression that prayer is not so useful for life, that it is not very effective. We are therefore tempted to throw ourselves into activity, to use all the human means for attaining our goals and we do not turn to God. Jesus himself says that it is necessary to pray always, and does so in a specific parable (cf. Lk 18: 1-8). 

This parable speaks to us of a judge who does not fear God and is no respecter of persons: a judge without a positive outlook, who only seeks his own interests. He neither fears God's judgement nor respects his neighbour. The other figure is a widow, a person in a situation of weakness. In the Bible, the widow and the orphan are the neediest categories, because they are defenceless and without means. The widow goes to the judge and asks him for justice. Her possibilities of being heard are almost none, because the judge despises her and she can bring no pressure to bear on him. She cannot even appeal to religious principles because the judge does not fear God. Therefore this widow seems without any recourse. But she insists, she asks tirelessly, importuning him, and in the end she succeeds in obtaining a result from the judge. At this point Jesus makes a reflection, using the argument a fortiori: if a dishonest judge ends by letting himself be convinced by a widow's plea, how much more will God, who is good, answer those who pray to him. God in fact is generosity in person, he is merciful and is therefore always disposed to listen to prayers. Therefore we must never despair but always persist in prayer. 

The conclusion of the Gospel passage speaks of faith: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Lk 18: 8). It is a question that intends to elicit an increase of faith on our part. Indeed it is clear that prayer must be an expression of faith, otherwise it is not true prayer. If one does not believe in God's goodness, one cannot pray in a truly appropriate manner.
Faith is essential as the basis of a prayerful attitude.

[Pope Benedict, homily for the canonisation of the blessed, 17 October 2010]

To all people of good will who feel a living and active part of the parish community, I say: do not tire of seeking all the opportunities that the Lord offers you to expand contacts and carry out that work of promotion based on truth, justice and respect for the person of others, which constitutes, for those who feel distant from the faith, the necessary preamble to the knowledge of Christ, which you are fortunate enough to profess with your life and with the practice of the sacraments of faith.

9. Be living praise of God in the eyes of those who seek the Lord, but have not yet found him. Repeat with the psalmist: "Praise, my soul, the Lord your Creator". Dear brothers and sisters! Learn to praise God; give glory to him on behalf of all creatures. Learn to do so in the spirit of the "poor widow" of today's liturgy, that the sacrifice of glory may find its evangelical "resonance" in the heart of Christ. Learn - again and again - to participate in the Eucharist so that your Christian life may mature and be enriched through "poverty in spirit".

[Pope John Paul II, homily 6 November 1988]

The Gospel parable which we have just heard (cf. Lk 18:1-8) contains an important teaching: we “ought always to pray and not lose heart” (v. 1). This means, then, pray constantly, not just when I feel like it. No, Jesus says that we ought “always to pray and not lose heart”. And he offers the example of the widow and the judge.

The judge is a powerful person, called to issue judgment on the basis of the Law of Moses. That is why the biblical tradition recommended that judges be people who fear God, who are worthy of faith, impartial and incorruptible (cf. Ex 18:21). However, this judge “neither feared God nor regarded man” (Lk 18:2). As a judge, he was unfair, unscrupulous, who did not take the Law into account but did whatever he wanted, according to his own interests. It was to him that a widow turned for justice. Widows, along with orphans and foreigners, were the most vulnerable groups of society. The rights afforded them by the Law could be easily disregarded because, being isolated and defenceless, they could hardly be assertive. A poor widow, there, alone, with no one to defend her, might be ignored, might even be denied justice. Just as the orphan, just as the foreigner, the migrant: in that time this was a very serious problem. Faced with the judge’s indifference, the widow has recourse to her only weapon: to bother him incessantly with her request for justice. And because of her insistence, she achieves her end. At a certain point, the judge grants her request, not because he is moved by mercy or because his conscience has been working on him; he simply admits: “because this widow bothers me, I will vindicate her, or she will wear me out by her continual coming” (v. 5).

From this parable Jesus draws two conclusions: if the widow could manage to bend the dishonest judge with her incessant requests, how much more will God, who is the good and just Father, “vindicate his elect, who cry to him day and night”; moreover, will not “delay long over them”, but will act “speedily” (vv. 7-8).

That is why Jesus urges us to pray and “not to lose heart”. We all go through times of tiredness and discouragement, especially when our prayers seem ineffective. But Jesus assures us: unlike the dishonest judge, God promptly answers his children, even though this doesn’t mean he will necessarily do it when and how we would like. Prayer does not work like a magic wand! It helps us keep faith in God, and to entrust ourselves to him even when we do not understand his will. In this, Jesus himself — who prayed constantly! — is our model. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him [God] who was able to save him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear” (5:7). At first glance this statement seems far-fetched, because Jesus died on the Cross. Yet, the Letter to the Hebrews makes no mistake: God has indeed saved Jesus from death by giving him complete victory over it, but the path to that [victory] is through death itself! The supplication that God has answered referred to Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. Assailed by looming anguish, Jesus prays to the Father to deliver him of this bitter cup of the Passion, but his prayer is pervaded by trust in the Father and he entrusts himself entirely to his will: “not as I will,” Jesus says, “but as thou wilt” (Mt 26:39). The object of prayer is of secondary importance; what matters above all is his relationship with the Father. This is what prayer does: it transforms the desire and models it according to the will of God, whatever that may be, because the one who prays aspires first of all to union with God, who is merciful Love.

The parable ends with a question: “when the Son of man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (v. 8). And with this question we are all warned: we must not cease to pray, even if left unanswered. It is prayer that conserves the faith, with out it faith falters! Let us ask the Lord for a faith that is incessant prayer, persevering, like that of the widow in the parable, a faith that nourishes our desire for his coming. And in prayer let us experience that compassion of God, who like a Father comes to encounter his children, full of merciful love.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 25 May 2016]

Dedication of the Basilica of St. John Lateran [9 November 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! Let us be moved by Jesus' zeal for his Church, which he loves and wants to remain whole and faithful.

First Reading from the Book of Ezekiel (47:1-12)

Before rereading Ezekiel's vision, it is useful to recall the plan of the Temple that he knew, that of Solomon. Unlike our churches, the Temple was a large esplanade divided into courtyards: those of the pagans, of women and of men. The Temple itself had three parts: the open air with the altar of burnt offerings, the Vestibule, the Holy Place and the Holy of Holies. For Israel, the Temple was the centre of religious life: the only place of pilgrimage and sacrifice. Its destruction in 587 BC represented a total collapse, not only physical but also spiritual. The question was: would faith collapse with it? How could they survive after the destruction? Ezekiel, deported to Babylon in 597 BC, found himself on the banks of the Kebar River in Tel Aviv. During the twenty years of exile (ten before and ten after the destruction), he devoted all his energies to keeping the people's hope alive. He had to act on two fronts: to survive and to keep alive the hope of return. As a priest, he spoke mainly in terms of worship and visions, many of which concerned the Temple. Surviving meant understanding that the Temple was not the place of God's presence, but its sign. God was not among the ruins, but with his people on the Kebar. As Solomon said: 'The heavens themselves and the heavens of heavens cannot contain you! How much less this House that I have built!' (1 Kings 8:27). God is always in the midst of his people and does not abandon Israel: before, during and after the Temple, he is always in the midst of his people. Even in misfortune, faith deepens. The hope of return is firm because God is faithful and his promises remain valid. Ezekiel imagines the Temple of the future and describes abundant water flowing from the Temple towards the east, bringing life everywhere: the Dead Sea will no longer be dead, like the Paradise of Genesis (Genesis 1). This message tells his contemporaries: paradise is not behind us, but ahead of us; dreams of abundance and harmony will be realised. The reconstruction of the Temple, a few decades later, was perhaps the result of Ezekiel's stubborn hope. Perhaps in memory of Ezekiel and the hope he embodied, the capital of Israel is now called Tel Aviv, 'hill of spring'.

Responsorial Psalm 45/46

The liturgy of the Feast of Dedication offers only a division of Psalm 45/46, but it is useful to read it in its entirety. It is presented as a canticle of three stanzas separated by two refrains (vv. 8 and 12): 'The Lord of hosts is with us; our bulwark is the God of Jacob'. God, king of the world. First stanza: God's dominion over the cosmic elements (earth, sea, mountains). Second stanza: Jerusalem, "the city of God, the most holy dwelling place of the Most High" (v. 5). Third stanza: God's dominion over the nations and over the whole earth: "I rule the nations, I rule the earth". The refrain has a tone of victory and war: the Lord of the universe is with us.... The name 'Sabaoth' means 'Lord of hosts', a warrior title that at the beginning of biblical history referred to God as the head of the Israelite armies. Today it is interpreted as God of the universe, referring to the heavenly armies. The second verse is about the River. The evocation of a river in Jerusalem, which in reality does not exist, is surprising. The water supply was guaranteed by springs such as Gihon and Ain Roghel. The river is not real, but symbolic: it anticipates Ezekiel's prophecy of a miraculous river that will irrigate the entire region as far as the Dead Sea. Similarities can be found in Joel and Zechariah, where living waters flow from Jerusalem and bring life everywhere, showing God as king of all the earth. All the hyperbole in the Psalm anticipates the Day of God, the final victory over all the forces of evil. The warlike tone in the refrains and in the last verse ("Exalted among the nations, exalted on earth") means that God fights against war itself. The Kingdom of God will be established over the whole earth, over all peoples, and all wars will end. Jerusalem, the "City of Peace," symbolises this dream of harmony and prosperity. For some commentators, the River also represents the crowds that pass through Jerusalem during the great processions.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (3:9...17)

The deepest desire of the Old Testament was that God would be forever present among his people, establishing a kingdom of peace and justice. Ezekiel expresses this with the prophetic name of Jerusalem: 'The Lord is there'. However, the fulfilment of this promise exceeds all expectations: God himself becomes man in Jesus of Nazareth, 'the Word who became flesh and dwelt among us'. St Paul, rereading the Old Testament, recognises that the whole history of salvation converges towards Christ, the eternal centre of God's plan. When the time is fulfilled, God manifests his presence no longer in a place (the Temple of Jerusalem), but in a person: Jesus Christ, and in those who, through Baptism, are united to him. The Gospels show this mystery of God's new presence in various ways: the Presentation in the Temple, the tearing of the veil at the moment of Jesus' death, the water flowing from his side (the new Temple from which life flows), and the purification of the Temple. All these signs indicate that in Christ, God dwells definitively among men. After the Resurrection, God's presence continues in his people: the Holy Spirit dwells in believers. Paul affirms this forcefully: "You are the temple of God, and the Spirit of God dwells in you." This reality has a twofold dimension: Ecclesial: the community of believers is the new temple of God, built on Christ, the cornerstone. Everything must be done for the common good and to be a living sign of God's presence in the world. Personal: every baptised person is a "temple of the Holy Spirit." The human body is a holy place where God dwells, and for this reason it must be respected and cared for. The new Temple is not a material building, but a living reality, constantly growing, 'a temple that expands without end', as Cardinal Daniélou said: humanity transformed by the Spirit. Finally, Paul warns: 'If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him'. The dignity of the believer as the dwelling place of God is sacred and inviolable. Christ's promise to Peter is the guarantee: 'The powers of evil will not prevail against my Church'. In summary: God, who in the Old Testament dwelt in a temple of stone, in the New Testament dwells in Christ and, through the Spirit, in the hearts and community of believers. The Church and every Christian are today the living sign of God's presence in the world.

From the Gospel according to John (2:13-22)

Trade on the Temple esplanade. In the Gospel of John (chapter 2), Jesus performs one of his most powerful and symbolic acts: he drives the merchants out of the Temple in Jerusalem. The episode takes place at the beginning of his public mission and reveals the profound meaning of his presence in the world: Jesus is the new Temple of God. In Jesus' time, the presence of animal sellers and money changers around the Temple was a normal and necessary practice: pilgrims had to buy animals for sacrifices and exchange Roman money, which bore the emperor's image, for Jewish coins. The problem was not the activity itself, but the fact that the merchants had invaded the Temple esplanade, transforming the first courtyard – intended for prayer and reading the Word – into a place of commerce. Jesus reacted with prophetic force: 'Do not make the house of the Father a market'. He thus denounced the transformation of worship into economic interest and reaffirmed that one cannot serve two masters, God and money. His words echo those of the prophets: Jeremiah had denounced the Temple as a 'den of thieves' (Jer 7:11), and Zechariah had announced that, on the day of the Lord, 'there shall be no more merchants in the house of the Lord' (Zech 14:21). Jesus follows in this prophetic line and brings their words to fulfilment. Two attitudes emerge in response to Jesus' gesture: the disciples, who know him and have already seen his signs (as at Cana), understand the prophetic meaning of the gesture and recall Psalm 68(69): "Zeal for your house consumes me." John changes the tense of the verb ("will consume me") to announce Jesus' future passion, a sign of his total love for God and for humanity. His opponents ("the Jews" in John) react with mistrust and irony: they ask Jesus to justify his authority and refuse to be admonished by him. To their request for a sign, Jesus responds with mysterious words: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." They think of the stone Temple, restored by Herod in forty-six years, a symbol of God's presence among the people. But Jesus is speaking of another temple: his body. Only after the resurrection do the disciples understand the meaning of his words: the true Temple, the sign of God's presence, is no longer a building, but the person of the risen Jesus himself, 'the stone rejected by the builders, which has become the cornerstone'. This episode, placed by John at the beginning of his Gospel, already announces the whole Christian mystery: Jesus is the new place of encounter with God, the living Temple where man finds salvation. The ancient cult is outdated: it is no longer a matter of offering material sacrifices, but of welcoming and following Christ, who offers himself for humanity. Faith divides: some (the disciples) welcome this newness and become children of God; others (the opponents) reject it and close themselves off to revelation. Jesus, by driving the merchants out of the Temple, reveals that the true house of God is not made of stones but of people united with Him. His risen body is the new Temple, the definitive sign of God's presence among men. The episode thus becomes a prophecy of Easter and an invitation to purify the heart, so that God's dwelling place may never become a place of interest, but remain a space of faith, communion and love.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Among corpses and vultures: different in Depth

(Lk 17:26-37)

There is a very simple essential discernment: where life is extinguished, is not favored, not rejoiced or promoted, the earth becomes an early cemetery, and the "sky" is populated by flocks of vultures.

It is the bitter result of a culture from which unfortunately the clear ‘presence’ of the One who has clothed the world of Beauty does not emerge. 

Mentality that appears totally inert: unable to make us recognize - we without a voice - as the real Reason and End of God’s initiative. Even the only authentic Sanctuaries.

We should be like Relationships that fill the heart with dreams. And centers of irradiation, icons of full satisfaction; places of not static passions, but respectful of the intimate nature of things.

But convictions and pastoral proposal do not seem to hold up. And they do not affect perhaps because they have lost the magic inside: that befriends what there is in everyone's journey.

Here there is a more subtle discernment - feature of today’s Gospel passage: Judgment is presented in the form of surprise.

The slightest problems of daily existence can become so absorbent that we lose the very meaning of imperfections - and, in general, the dimension of depth.

The frontiers of the Kingdom are in the world, in the people, in their laments and joys, in the events. The place of ‘judgment’ is everywhere.

Jesus' invitation is not to let oneself be distracted, not even by the minutiae of religiosity.

The manifestation of the last times - that is, the possibility of starting a new world - continually comes: it must be received and brought aware.

Kept alive personally.

The decisive Encounter doesn’t happen in dedicated spaces and times: it’s re-proposed in a thousand channels, moments and places, but - here is the other salient datum - there is someone who notices, others do not.

The "division" between those who are associated with divine life and those who cannot be, doesn’t concern the etycisms on capital vices, but the living discernment.

It is also about the minute reality (vv.31.34-35) and its message.

Faith in the turns and the union with Christ that pulsates in the soul and dreams - intimate Brother of each one and shining measure of many other things - wants to open up the Vision to us.

We also read it in our hearts in revolt, which want to awaken us from the loculi and the dictatorship of pre-packaged thoughts.

The hidden Self thirsts to understand the appeal of what is daily and precarious, of the "defects"; the call of the bifrontality nature of situations.

The "symmetries" that seemed so reassuring do not make virtue grow, within the weaknesses.

Here then we reach the sting of the troubles, even epochal: the idea of perfection would not make us move the gaze, to make exodus, to grow, and bloom.

The active ‘Judgment’ in Christ instead conveys the ability to grasp a scenario that we didn’t know.

The advent of the «Son of Man» (vv.26.30) calls into question, and his Judgment overtakes the distracted ones, the contracted by habit.

On the contrary, it grasps the core of existence: we will be recognized as different... not in the moral, but in Depth.

[Friday 32nd wk. in O.T.  November 14, 2025]

Between corpses and vultures: different ones in depth

(Lk 17:26-37)

There is a very simple essential discernment: where life is extinguished, not fostered, not cheered nor promoted, the earth becomes an early graveyard, and 'heaven' is populated with whole flocks of vultures.

Photograph of the ageing, stagnant, (accustomed) spiritual monopoly of the West, which no longer makes anything bloom.

It is the bitter result of a religious structure that is perhaps devout, certainly adept at satisfying the senses, but indolent; certainly capillary, expert, and pronouncing on everything, but disjointed in parochialisms of all kinds.

A spectacular institution, yet folded, inwardly estranged and sometimes hostile [which extinguishes the creative urge and does not mix with the hopes of today's woman and man]; from which, unfortunately, the clear presence of the One who clothed the world in Beauty does not transpire. 

The hierarchical pyramid on the ground remains exaggerated, perhaps for the very purpose of self-validation, tightening ranks to make a better body.

The resulting mentality appears totally inert: unable to make us - we voiceless ones - recognise ourselves as the real Reason and End of God's initiative. Even the only authentic Sanctuaries.

We should be living and speaking Relations, filling the heart with dreams. And centres of irradiation, icons of full fulfilment; places of passions that are not static, but respectful of the intimate nature of things.

Conversely, we catch around us flashes of life, yes, young and exuberant and trying to blossom, but obscurely suffocated by too many ties, past or disembodied ideas, established group interests, and overlords.

Here is the crisis of meaning, the truly human time that is failing; as in an anticipation of perdition - out of perspective with the Father, the lover of life.

Convictions and pastoral proposal seem incapable of constituting: they do not hold up, they pale, they do not affect, they do not seek uniqueness.

All this, in spite of the (distracted) army of institutional and capillary realities, which sucks vocations even from lands in the midst of Mission.

All the more reason to start building a profoundly different ecclesiality, one that does not expect to be merely fed by the programmes of professionals of the sacred.

Kingdom of God starting from real life bare and raw; yet, with magic within: befriending what is in each one's journey.

Here there is a more subtle discernment - a feature of today's Gospel passage: the Judgement comes as a surprise.

The smallest problems of everyday existence (the nostalgias of the traditionalists, like the same disembodied ideas of the sophisticates) can become so absorbing that we lose the very sense of imperfection - and in general, the dimension of depth.

The frontiers of the Kingdom are in the world, in people, in their grievances and joys, in happenings - if read as turning points.

Not in convocations where circles of initiates self-represent themselves with a plethora of signs unsupported by life.

The place of 'Judgement' is everywhere.

Especially outside the sacristies: "we want to be a Church that serves, that leaves home, that leaves its temples, its sacristies, to accompany life, sustain hope, be a sign of unity [...] to build bridges, break down walls, sow reconciliation" [from a September 2015 homily in Santiago de Cuba, cited in: Brothers All n.276].

Jesus' invitation is not to be distracted, not even by the minutiae of religiosity.

The manifestation of the end times - that is, the possibility of starting a new world - continually comes: it must be received and made aware.

Kept alive personally.

The decisive Encounter does not happen in prearranged spaces and times: it recurs in a thousand guises, moments and places, but - here is the other salient fact - there are some who become aware, others do not.

The 'division' between those who are associated with the divine life and those who cannot be, does not concern ethics on capital vices, but rather living discernment

It is about even minute reality (vv.31.34-35) and its message - what the person of Faith feels is indestructible consistency, and is total self-revelation.

Without the turning point Faith, the alienating cultic sense fills humanity with appearances, with garments that have become masks and dross - incapable by now of questioning us. Devastating attitude.

Devotion then, which only cares for details or grand visions of the world and shoots straight, fights the reversals of existence and does not grasp its appeals, its richness for us.

Even in the time of the emergency, the leaps forward, the malaise of habituation or petty error, are stopping even the most exuberant spiritual festivals where they were.

That is, in the graves in which we have willingly allowed ourselves to be buried, and we can see this dramatically.The union with Christ pulsating in the soul, and dreaming - everyone's intimate Brother and dazzling measure of much more - wants to open up the Vision to us.

A Vision of alternative heavens and earth. A vision today often enraptured by vain expectations of restoration to 'the way we were'.

We also read it in our hearts in revolt, which want to awaken us from the loculi and the dictatorship of pre-packaged thoughts.

The hidden self thirsts to understand the appeal of the summary, of the 'defects', the call of the two-facedness of situations.

Duplicities that are unfortunately scarcely cultivated in the congealed or one-sided realities, those without prodigy, and which we do not want.

The 'symmetries' that seemed so reassuring do not grow virtues, within weaknesses.

Here then comes the sting of annoyances, even epochal ones: the idea of perfection would not do us as much to shift our gaze, to exodus, to grow, to flourish.

The active 'Judgement' in Christ, on the other hand, conveys the ability to grasp a scenario that we did not know, and to overturn a whole vintage, accustomed approach to existence.

Even reacting suddenly (v.31).

In short, Jesus is calling his own not to walk on air:

Many pious conquests will be at a loss. Many risks of love, both in ordinary and extraordinary events, will be calculated at "gain".

In this way we will be ready to receive the God-in-One.

This is true both in our relations with men, and in the signs of the times and personal events.

We will not be caught unawares by retrospective thinking alone - or the result of opposing attachments - which is satisfied with external practicalities, but does not watch.

The advent of the "Son of Man" (vv.26.30) calls into question. And his Judgement overpowers the distracted, the contracted by habit; with no more capacity for deep reading and intuition.

The Lord conversely grasps the core of existence.

His theology of Incarnation wants to create alliance between our varied primordial powers [all genuine in themselves].

We will thus be recognised as different [living or not]... not in the mannerisms or petty places of 'morality' (vv.31.34).

Not even in the laborious (epidermal) elaboration of the admitted virtues: 'He who seeks to keep his life will lose it; but he who loses it will keep it alive' (Lk 17.33).

All this, rather, in the depth of perception.

To internalise and live the message:

Are you being coached by others or are you edifying yourself and your understanding?

Do you feel secure for assuming the dreams, virtues, hopes, successes of others? That is, for having experienced and recognised them - as a true love story - yourself?

What profound difference do you bring with you in the time of attachments and upheavals?