4th Lent Sunday   [15 March 2026]  Laetare

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This Sunday is a pause of light in the penitential journey. In the Gospel, Jesus gives sight to the blind man. Laetare means this: light is already overcoming the shadows. Even though we are still in Lent, Easter is near. The blind man's joy is achieved through questioning, rejection and loneliness. Laetare is not an escape from pain, but joy that arises from trial. Laetare is the smile of the Church in the middle of the desert: if I allow myself to be enlightened by Christ, my night is not definitive. The man born blind thus becomes an icon of the catechumen, but also of every believer who, in the heart of Lent, discovers that the light is already present and that Christian joy is born from the encounter with Him.

*First Reading from the First Book of Samuel (16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a)

 Reading this biblical text, we understand that the great prophet Samuel had to learn to change his perspective. Sent by God to designate the future king from among the sons of Jesse in Bethlehem, he apparently had only the embarrassment of choice. Jesse first brought his eldest son, named Eliab: tall, handsome, with the appearance worthy of succeeding the current king, Saul. But no: God let Samuel know that his choice did not fall on him: Do not look at his appearance or his tall stature... God does not look as man looks: man looks at the appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (cf. 1 Sam 16:7).

So Jesse had his sons pass before the prophet one by one, in order of age. But God's choice did not fall on any of them. In the end, he had to call the last one, the one no one had thought of: David, whose only occupation was to tend the sheep. Well, it was he whom God had chosen to guard his people! The biblical account emphasises once again that God's choice falls on the smallest: "God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong," St Paul will say (1 Cor 1:27), because "my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9). Here is a good reason to change our way of looking at people! From this text we draw at least three lessons about kingship in Israel:

First: the king is God's chosen one, but the election is for a mission. Just as Israel is chosen for the service of humanity, so the king is chosen for the service of the people. This also entails the possibility of being deposed, as happened to Saul: if the chosen one no longer fulfils his mission, he is replaced. Second: the king receives anointing with oil; he is literally the 'messiah', that is, 'the anointed one'. God says to Samuel: 'Fill your horn with oil and set out! I am sending you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have chosen a king among his sons' (1 Sam 16:1). Third: anointing confers the Spirit of God. ' Samuel took the horn full of oil and anointed him in the midst of his brothers, and the Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that day forward' (1 Sam 16:13). The king thus becomes God's representative on earth, called to rule according to God's will and not according to that of the world. There is also another great lesson: men judge by appearances, God looks at the heart.  Many biblical stories insist on this mystery: God often chooses the least. David was the youngest of Jesse's sons; no one thought he had a great future. Moses declared himself slow of speech (Ex 4:10). Jeremiah considered himself too young (Jer 1:6). Samuel himself was inexperienced when he was called. Timothy was in poor health. And the people of Israel were small among the nations. These choices cannot be explained by human criteria. As Isaiah says: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways" (Is 55:8-9). The text summarises it thus: "What man sees does not count: for man sees the appearance, but the Lord sees the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). This truth protects us from two dangers: presumption and discouragement. It is not a question of merit, but of availability. No one possesses the necessary strength within themselves: God will give it at the right moment.

*Responsorial Psalm (22/23) 

We have just heard this psalm in its entirety: it is one of the shortest in the psalter, but it is so dense that the early Christians chose it as the privileged psalm for Easter night. On that night, the newly baptised, rising from the baptismal font, sang Psalm 22/23 as they made their way to the place of their Confirmation and First Eucharist. For this reason, it was called the 'psalm of Christian initiation'. If Christians were able to read the mystery of baptismal life in it, it is because this psalm already expressed in a privileged way the mystery of life in the Covenant, of life in intimacy with God for Israel. It is the mystery of God's choice, who elected this particular people for no apparent reason other than his sovereign freedom. Every generation marvels at this election and this Covenant offered: 'Ask the former generations that preceded you, from the day God created man on earth... has anything so great ever happened?' (Deut 4:32-35). This people, freely chosen by God, was given the privilege of being the first to enter into his intimacy, not to enjoy it selfishly, but to open the door to others. To express the happiness of the believer, Psalm 22/23 refers to two experiences: that of a Levite (a priest) and that of a pilgrim. We are familiar with the institution of the Levites: according to Genesis, Levi was one of the twelve sons of Jacob, from whom the twelve tribes of Israel took their name. But the tribe of Levi had a special place from the beginning: at the time of the division of the Promised Land, it did not receive any territory because it was consecrated to the service of worship. It is said that God himself is their inheritance; an image also taken up in another psalm: "Lord, my portion of inheritance and my cup... for me, the lot has fallen on delightful places" (Ps 15/16:5). The Levites lived scattered among the cities of the other tribes and lived on tithes; in Jerusalem, they were dedicated to the service of the Temple. The Levite in our psalm sings with all his heart: "Goodness and faithfulness shall follow me all the days of my life; I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for long days." His experience is an image of Israel's election: just as the Levite is happy to be consecrated to the service of God, so Israel is aware of its special vocation among humanity. Furthermore, Israel presents itself as a pilgrim going up to the Temple to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving. On the way, it is like a sheep: its shepherd is God. In the culture of the ancient Near East, kings were called "shepherds of the people," and Israel also uses this language. The ideal king is a good shepherd, attentive and strong to protect the flock. But in Israel it was strongly affirmed that the only true king is God; the kings of the earth are only his representatives. Thus, the true shepherd of Israel is God himself: 'The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul'. The prophet Ezekiel developed this image at length. Similarly, the Old Testament often presents Israel as God's flock: "He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock he leads" (Ps 94/95:7). This recalls the experience of the Exodus: it was there that Israel experienced God's care, who guided them and enabled them to survive amid a thousand obstacles. For this reason, when Jesus said, "I am the Good Shepherd" (Jn 10), his words had a shocking effect: they meant "I am the King-Messiah, the true king of Israel." Returning to the psalm: pilgrimage can be dangerous. The pilgrim may encounter enemies ("You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies"), he may pass through "the dark valley" of death; but he does not fear, because God is with him: "I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff give me security". Once he reaches the Temple, he offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving and participates in the ritual banquet that follows: a joyful feast, with an overflowing cup and the anointing of oil on his head. We can understand why the early Christians saw in this psalm the expression of their experience: Christ is the true Shepherd (Jn 10); in baptism he leads us out of the valley of death to the waters of life; the table and the cup evoke the Eucharist; the perfumed oil recalls Confirmation. Once again, Christians discover with amazement that Jesus does not abolish the faith experience of his people, but brings it to fulfilment, giving it fullness.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (5:8-14) 

Often in Scripture, it is the end of the text that provides the key. Let us start with the last sentence: 'For this reason it is said: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."' The phrase "This is why it is said..." clearly shows that the author did not invent this song, but quoted it. It must have been a well-known baptismal hymn in the early Christian communities. Awake... rise... and Christ will give you light was therefore a song of our first brothers and sisters in faith: and this cannot leave us indifferent. Thus, we better understand the beginning of the text: it simply serves to explain the words of that hymn. It is as if, after a baptismal celebration, someone had asked the theologian on duty — Paul, or one of his disciples (since it is not entirely certain that the Letter to the Ephesians was written by him personally) —: "What do the words we sang during baptism mean?" And the answer is this: thanks to baptism, a new life has begun, a radically new life. So much so that the newly baptised were called neophytes, meaning 'new plants'. The author explains the song in this way: the new plant that you have become is profoundly different. When a graft is made, the fruit of the grafted tree is different from the original one; and that is precisely why the graft is made. The colour makes it easy to distinguish what belongs to the new plant and what is a remnant of the past. It is the same with baptism: the fruits of the new man are works of light; before the grafting, you were darkness, and your fruits were works of darkness. But old habits may resurface: this is why it is important to recognise them. For the author, the distinction is simple: the fruits of the new man are goodness, justice and charity. Anything that is not goodness, justice and charity is a sprout from the old tree. Who can make you bear fruits of light? Jesus Christ. He is all goodness, all justice, all charity. Just as a plant needs the sun to bloom, so we must expose ourselves to his light. The song expresses both the work of Christ and the freedom of man: 'Awake, arise' — it is freedom that is called into question. 'Christ will enlighten you' — only he can do this. For St Paul, as for the prophets of the Old Testament, light is an attribute of God. To say 'Christ will enlighten you' means two things: first of all, Christ is God. The only way to live in harmony with God is to remain united to Christ, that is, to live concretely in justice, goodness and charity. The text of Isaiah (Is 58) comes to mind: share your bread with the hungry, welcome the poor, clothe the naked... Then your light will rise like the dawn. This is the glory of the Lord, his light that we are called to reflect. As Paul says in his second letter to the Corinthians (2 Cor 3:18): we reflect the glory of the Lord and are transformed into his image. To reflect means that Christ is the light; we are its reflection. This is the vocation of the baptised: to reflect the light of Christ. For this reason, at baptism, a candle lit from the Paschal candle is given. Secondly, a light does not shine for itself: it illuminates what surrounds it. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes: 'You shine like stars in the world' (Phil 2:14-16). This is his way of translating the words of Jesus Christ: 'You are the light of the world'. The Letter to the Ephesians, written directly by Paul or by one of his disciples (according to the then common practice of "pseudepigraphy"), remains for the Church a fundamental testimony of the baptismal vocation, called to pass from darkness to light.

*From the Gospel according to John (9:1-41)

The worst blindness is not what one thinks. Here we hear an illustration of what St John writes at the beginning of his Gospel, in the so-called Prologue:

"The Word was the true light, the light that enlightens every man... He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not recognise him" (Jn 1:9-10). This is what we might call the drama of the Gospels. But John continues: 'Yet to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to become children of God'. This is exactly what happens here: the drama of those who oppose Jesus and stubbornly refuse to recognise him as the One sent by God; but also, fortunately, the salvation of those who have the grace to open their eyes, like the man born blind.

John insists on making us understand that there are two kinds of blindness: physical blindness, which this man had from birth, and, much more serious, blindness of the heart.

Jesus meets the blind man for the first time and heals him of his natural blindness. He then meets him a second time and opens his heart to another light, the true light. It is no coincidence that John takes care to explain the meaning of the name 'Siloam', which means 'Sent'. In other cases, he does not translate the terms: here he does so because it is important. Jesus is truly the One sent by the Father to enlighten the world. Yet we return to the same question: why was the one who was sent to bring God's light rejected by those who awaited him most fervently? The episode of the man born blind takes place immediately after the Feast of Tabernacles, a great solemnity in Jerusalem, during which the coming of the Messiah was ardently invoked. And the danger of certainties can be great. At the time of Jesus Christ, the expectation of the Messiah was very intense. There was only one question: is he truly the Father's Envoy or is he an impostor? Is he the Messiah, yes or no? His actions were paradoxical: he performed the works expected of the Messiah — he restored sight to the blind and speech to the mute — but he did not seem to respect the Sabbath. And it was precisely on the Sabbath that he healed the blind man. Now, if he were truly sent by God, many thought, he should observe the Sabbath. It was 'obvious'. But it is precisely this 'obviousness' that is the problem. Many had too rigid ideas about what the Messiah should be like and were not ready for God's surprise. The blind man, on the other hand, is not a prisoner of preconceptions. To the Pharisees who ask him for explanations, he simply replies: "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes... I washed and gained my sight." The Pharisees are divided: He is not from God, because he does not observe the Sabbath. How can a sinner perform such signs? The blind man reasons with simplicity and freedom: If this man were not from God, he could do nothing (cf. Jn 9:31-33). It is always the same story: those who close themselves off in their own certainties end up seeing nothing; those who take a step in faith are ready to receive grace. And then they can receive true light from Jesus. This episode takes place in a context of controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees. Twice Jesus had rebuked them for  "judging by appearances" (Jn 7:24; 8:15). It is natural to recall the episode of David's choice: "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). The worst blindness, therefore, is not that of the eyes, but that of a heart that does not want to be enlightened. The man born blind does not only receive sight: he receives a new way of seeing. At first he sees Jesus as "a man"; then as a "prophet"; finally he recognises him as "Lord" and prostrates himself before him. The real miracle is not only the opening of the eyes, but the opening of the heart. Here we also find the wisdom of The Little Prince (novel by A.M. de Saint-Exupéry): "What is essential is invisible to the eye." The Pharisees see with their eyes, but remain blind inside; the beggar, on the other hand, passing through rejection and trial, comes to see the Invisible. The conclusion is this: faith is a journey from external light to inner light. One can have healthy eyes and remain in darkness; or one can have been blind and become a witness to the light. The man born blind teaches us that true sight is recognising Christ as the Light of the world and allowing our hearts to be illuminated.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

No forced surrender

(Mk 12:28b-34)

That of the ‘Great commandment’ was the most familiar catechism rule, even to infants.

Jesus is questioned only to retort: and why do you not keep the one commandment that even God fulfils - the Sabbath rest?

The only disposition in which the Father recognizes himself is Love, not some particular precept - because only profound Quality obliges.

The spiritual proposal of the Master makes the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets its own: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God envelops the creature in every decision [heart], every moment and aspect of its concrete 'life', all its resources [strength].

Mt 22:37 does not explicitly mention this last aspect, perhaps to emphasize that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

And Jesus adds to the nuances of authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side to those who think of love as a feeling only emotional.

The Lord suggests study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions (v.30) - the mental and deep intelligence aspect that complements Dt 6.

At first glance, it appears to be a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wisely and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor absorb our forces or potential, depersonalising us; not even from the mental point of view.

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable, other people’s opinion.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimacy and feeling, but of a totally involving affinity, made less oscillating precisely by the development of our sapiential measure on issues.

Here is a decisive appointment, of the Love in the round.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Lord of Heaven who does not come to meet us and instead towers over us with an objective of his own, which is extrinsic to us and makes us marginal.

Loving «How [and Because] yourself»: it is a new Genesis in the spirit of Giving.

The paradox suggested by Jesus is that we love for the care to meet - and because we love ourselves - by expanding the I into the You.

God’s «great command» affects real life and concerns not only the quality of relationship with the world and neighbour, but the reflexive global with oneself. 

We should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting the challenges even intellectual ones that call into question beliefs, works, one’s worldview, language, style, and thought itself.

All added values.

Needless to complain, if the ecclesial realities that do not update or deepen, and remain in the inherited commonplaces [or vogues] slowly decay, then disappear.

Therefore to the ancient notes of true love, the Son of God adds the ‘quality of mind’: we are not gullible, clueless, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the result of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

«Faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived» [John Paul II].

To internalize and live the message:

What is Great for you? Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God’s Call?

[Friday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 13, 2026]

The commandment great: Love

(Mk 12:28b-34)

"What is the first commandment of all? Jesus answered [...] The first is: Listen Israel. The Lord our God is one Lord, and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your life and with all your mind and with all your much" (vv.28-30; Deut 6:4-5).

Jesus turns what was the most banal of catechism questions into a crucial question: what is the 'great' commandment?

Despite the different theological schools, the answer was well known to all: the Sabbath rest, the only prescription observed (even) by God.

The question posed to the Master by the expert in the Law was not so innocent, but "to test him" (Mt 22:35; Lk 10:25) - that is, to answer him: how then do you not fulfil the Sabbath precept?

Christ simplifies the tangle of disputes, about widening or narrowing theoretical cases, and gets to the point.

Always allergic to bickering over doctrines, He makes a proposition of life as the unifying moment of the demands of the Covenant.

All norms have an essence, otherwise they remain a dispersive jumble. They find their spontaneous foundation and natural meaning in the gift of self - but motivated.

But what is the solid point and context of such an invitation? A vague feeling, one emotion among many, a passing motion? Philanthropy? Or an experience?

We are thirsty for affection and grant friendship in an alternating current, so much so that love becomes a source of misunderstandings, rooted in the need to complete each other.

This is why the second commandment appears as an explanation of the first, not a reduction of it [Mt 22:39; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27].

In the ancient world it made no sense to speak of love towards God, the ineffable Mystery.

It was the Most High who favoured someone by giving him material fortune, and he acknowledged to him a duty of worship, and sacrifices.

Ditto for the unfortunate, at least to avoid retaliation (and keep him good).

With Jesus, one speaks openly of gratuitousness - not simple gratitude - as the unifying core, both of the person and of salvation history.

Gone is the idea of the exchange of favours.

The Father does not need anything; he does not enjoy seeing us submissive and feeling recognised [the pattern of pagan religiosity] as a sovereign would towards his subjects.

The relationship with the Eternal One remains concrete, but honour towards the Most High is manifested by making His plan of good and growth towards man our own, and recognising ourselves in it.

God's plan unfolds ... with a living demand. But there is a Departure, a Centre and an Arrival. In reality, a new Genesis.

In any case, only God's initiative brings out the best in us: more talent, more desire, more interests, more unexpressed capacities, more unseen - instead of soul-denying torments.

It is the difference between religiosity that weakens the personality, and Faith.

Through Faith a special creative relationship is triggered: that of the one who accepts the Calling by Name, as well as the proposals of the Source of being itself - wave upon wave.

They anticipate our initiatives and infallibly guide us to the perfect blossoming of our own and others' Seeds.

Especially in Mt (22:38-39) and Mk (12:29-31) it is clear that love for one's neighbour derives from the experience and awareness of being loved first and unconditionally by God - looked upon, accepted, valued, promoted, gladdened, completed.

One loves not by effort [force is a dirigiste lever: it produces episodes that make life worse] but on the basis of how much we feel loved - and with immediacy, repeatedly, unconditionally.

One loves on the argument of the 'forfeit' already experienced in one's favour by Providence, which gives meaning and value to human acts.

Not out of infatuation with external, induced, however other people's expectations.

Even in the spiritual field, not a few behaviours believed to be able to solve problems, often chronicle them.

In this way, they rely on an idea of permanence - not on the dynamic of vocational gratuitousness, on the unimaginable Gift, to be received.

So the point is to adjust according to resources that come, or the distortion of models, typical of the moralist mentality.

In fact the scheme of omnipotence in the good, paradoxically, folds the ego and its forces, and distorts its gaze.

But beyond all nuances, we are glad that the first and second commandments are about Love: what we most desire to do and receive. It is an urgency of life.

Yet we must be wise, so that the pattern of paradigms or the urges of natural affection and precipitation do not overwhelm and drag away - overturning - every good intention.

Love does not tolerate the excess of expectations, because it springs from an experience of Perfection that arrives; offered, unexpected, unpredictable. Not already set up according to concatenated and normal intentions. 

If authentic, we will experience blossoming in time; not in expectation of a return, but first and foremost in a Gift beyond time. Because it has already satiated and convinced us - with contemplative amazement - and made us rejoice.

Thus the vocational and foundational Eros will continue to mould us, with its perennially explorative virtue capable of activating new Births.

Personal energy - without the usual baggage of torment, reservations, outwardness... and (again) wrath.

Great Commandment: only profound Quality obliges

The only disposition in which the Father recognises Himself is Love, all-round and all-round; not some particular precept.

For Jesus there are no rankings in the things of God and man - in fact He showed a marked tendency to summarise the many dispositions - because only the profound Quality obliges.

The spiritual proposition of the Master appropriated the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God must envelop the creature in every decision [heart].

Likewise, in every moment and aspect of its concrete 'life', and involve all its resources [strength: cf. Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27].

Deut 6:5 (Hebrew text) reads in fact: "with all your 'much'", meaning a concrete participation in both cultic life and material fraternity - providing and helping with one's possessions.

Matthew does not explicitly mention the latter, perhaps to emphasise that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

But Jesus adds to the nuances of authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side to those who think of love as a delicate feeling only.

The Lord suggests the study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions [Mt 22:37; Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27] accompanied by the mental aspect and deep intelligence (excluded in Deut 6).

At first glance, this seems a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wise and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor does he absorb our potential or energy, depersonalising us.

It is a capital implication of our dignity and promotion - even human - and a specific discriminator in the discernment of Faith in Christ, as opposed to all devotional solutions in search of the Absolute (whatever).

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable opinion of others.

We not infrequently flee the all-round confrontation that would enrich everyone - precisely because of incompetence.

But we are not one-sided gullible. Being attentive and up-to-date, having the ability to think even critically is a required expansion in the development of one's human, moral, cultural and spiritual vocation.

Trivialities, identifications, impersonal scopiazzature, and half-hearted assembly repetitions get in the way of the tide of life, this divine cascade of perennial energy that pulses and does not go out.

On the contrary, it comes with stirring appeals: it calls to open us up to new relationship attractions and other interests, even intellectual; even denominational.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimism and sentiment, but of a totally involving affinity, made less uncertain precisely by the development of our sapiential measure, regarding matters.

Devotion swallows up everything. Faith, on the other hand, does not allow itself to be plagiarised by local or external civilisation: it presupposes an ability to competently enter into personal evaluations or those inherent in the community and overall debate - historical and up-to-date.

The testimony of our Hope does not disdain to allow itself to be enriched by dialogue with those who have greater psychological or biblical expertise, specialised pastoral and social, as well as archaeological, bioethical, economic, scientific and so on.

A commitment that shows true interest in the Sacred [of course, all aspects to be evaluated not as school options].

But it must be admitted that one of the most organic expressions of great Catholic theology is what was once called the 'doctrine' of the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.

In the existence of Love, the primacy (also relational) of the Gift of the Spirit was recognised, which completed the possibilities of 'natural' expression of the cardinal and theological virtues, bringing them to fullness.

As many as four of the seven Gifts were related to a character of profound knowledge: Wisdom, Intellect, Counsel and Science.

In short: there is still a decisive appointment here for all-round Love. 

To indulge in a few jokes along the lines of belief is everyone's domain [individualist or circle], but the ability to enter into the matter is only of those who have been willing to sift through and experience the issues - because they are more interested in understanding the Face of God and His Plan for humanity than in reiterating false narrative certainties.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Master of Heaven who does not come to meet us; as if he towers over us with 'his' objective (extrinsic to us) and thus makes everyone marginal.

[In sects - even those with a good-natured appearance - it is forbidden to delve deeper, to understand: the position is already there, the candidate must "only" adapt].

"As (and because) thou art thyself" [sense of the Greek text: Mt 22:39; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27]: it is a new Birth of life, new Genesis in the spirit of Gift.

The paradox suggested by Jesus surpasses the ancient norm of Lev 19:18.

We love not only the children of our people, "by the fact that" we care to meet and want to enrich ourselves together, expanding the I into the Thou.

God's "Great Command" invests real life and concerns not only the quality of our relationship with the world and our neighbour, but the reflexive global with self.

One should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting analytical challenges beyond the 'organic' ones - the long-term ones.

They all challenge beliefs, works, one's worldview; language, style, and thought itself.

We still have a great need to broaden our minds and become as vast as a panorama. And reharmonise the opposites we drag in.

Hidden Sides and Pearls to which we have not yet given breath, or visibility - and perhaps never considered Allies.

The troubled fate of the prophets remains unique, but it is not the certainties (ancient, or sophisticated, fashionable, à la page) that are the added value of the adventure of Faith in Love - but rather the risk of putting oneself in the balance and the all-round reworking.

It is then useless to complain, if the ecclesial realities that do not update, and remain in the inherited commonplaces, slowly decay, then disappear.

In spite of their resounding heritage and fabulous events.

In this way, the "doctor of the law" may already be close [Mk 12:34; Lk 10:28] but he still has to keep an eye on Jesus, to understand in Him the more dilated sense of the total gift, in the specifically personalising, which is not naive.

The Lord restores the sense of norms to their profound and original function: to become the viaticum of every encounter that raises events, people of all backgrounds, and creation.

In conclusion, experience and ritual have their fulcrum in the reciprocity of love.

Life in all its facets becomes Liturgy more meaningful than the accredited gesture of worship; its truly broken Bread becomes a convincing call to Communion and Mission.

Even if it does not make the headlines, the authentic thermometer of our journey will not be the volume or the pile of important things we do, but a pulsing of regenerated heart and mind.

That is why to the ancient notes of true Love the Son of God adds the quality of thought: we are not gullible, uninformed, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the fruit of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

"A faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived" [John Paul II].

To internalise and live the message:

What is Great for you? Titles? Having, power, appearing?

What in your experience of Love is the Starting Point, the Centre and the Arrival?

Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God's Call?

Deep Relationship

Dear brothers and sisters!

The Gospel [...] re-proposes to us Jesus' teaching on the greatest commandment: the commandment of love, which is twofold: to love God and to love one's neighbour. The Saints, whom we have recently celebrated all together in one solemn feast, are precisely those who, trusting in God's grace, seek to live according to this fundamental law. Indeed, the commandment of love can be fully put into practice by those who live in a deep relationship with God, just as a child becomes capable of love from a good relationship with its mother and father. St John of Avila, whom I have recently proclaimed a Doctor of the Church, writes at the beginning of his Treatise on the Love of God: 'The cause,' he says, 'that most impels our heart to love God is to consider deeply the love He has had for us... This, more than benefits, impels the heart to love; for he who gives another a benefit, gives him something he possesses; but he who loves, gives himself with all he has, without anything else left to give' (No. 1). Before being a command - love is not a command - it is a gift, a reality that God makes us know and experience, so that, like a seed, it can also germinate within us and develop in our lives. 

If God's love has taken deep root in a person, that person is able to love even those who do not deserve it, just as God does towards us. A father and mother do not love their children only when they deserve it: they love them always, even if they naturally let them know when they are wrong. From God we learn to always and only want good and never evil. We learn to look at the other not only with our eyes, but with God's gaze, which is the gaze of Jesus Christ. A gaze that starts from the heart and does not stop at the surface, goes beyond appearances and manages to grasp the other person's deepest expectations: expectations of being listened to, of gratuitous attention; in a word: of love. But the reverse also occurs: that by opening myself to the other as he is, by going out to meet him, by making myself available to him, I also open myself up to knowing God, to feeling that he is there and that he is good. Love of God and love of neighbour are inseparable and stand in a reciprocal relationship. Jesus invented neither one nor the other, but revealed that they are, after all, one and the same commandment, and he did so not only with his words, but above all with his testimony: the very Person of Jesus and his entire mystery embody the unity of love of God and neighbour, like the two arms of the Cross, vertical and horizontal. In the Eucharist He gives us this twofold love, giving us Himself, so that, nourished by this Bread, we may love one another as He has loved us.

Dear friends, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary, we pray that every Christian may know how to show his faith in the one true God with a limpid witness of love for his neighbour.

(Pope Benedict, Angelus 4 November 2012)

1. In acknowledging the centrality of love, Christian faith has retained the core of Israel's faith, while at the same time giving it new depth and breadth. The pious Jew prayed daily the words of the Book of Deuteronomy which expressed the heart of his existence: “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is one Lord, and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might” (6:4-5). Jesus united into a single precept this commandment of love for God and the commandment of love for neighbour found in the Book of Leviticus: “You shall love your neighbour as yourself” (19:18; cf. Mk 12:29-31). Since God has first loved us (cf. 1 Jn 4:10), love is now no longer a mere “command”; it is the response to the gift of love with which God draws near to us..

18. Love of neighbour is thus shown to be possible in the way proclaimed by the Bible, by Jesus. It consists in the very fact that, in God and with God, I love even the person whom I do not like or even know. This can only take place on the basis of an intimate encounter with God, an encounter which has become a communion of will, even affecting my feelings. Then I learn to look on this other person not simply with my eyes and my feelings, but from the perspective of Jesus Christ. His friend is my friend. Going beyond exterior appearances, I perceive in others an interior desire for a sign of love, of concern. This I can offer them not only through the organizations intended for such purposes, accepting it perhaps as a political necessity. Seeing with the eyes of Christ, I can give to others much more than their outward necessities; I can give them the look of love which they crave. Here we see the necessary interplay between love of God and love of neighbour which the First Letter of John speaks of with such insistence. If I have no contact whatsoever with God in my life, then I cannot see in the other anything more than the other, and I am incapable of seeing in him the image of God. But if in my life I fail completely to heed others, solely out of a desire to be “devout” and to perform my “religious duties”, then my relationship with God will also grow arid. It becomes merely “proper”, but loveless. Only my readiness to encounter my neighbour and to show him love makes me sensitive to God as well. Only if I serve my neighbour can my eyes be opened to what God does for me and how much he loves me. The saints—consider the example of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta—constantly renewed their capacity for love of neighbour from their encounter with the Eucharistic Lord, and conversely this encounter acquired its real- ism and depth in their service to others. Love of God and love of neighbour are thus inseparable, they form a single commandment. But both live from the love of God who has loved us first. No longer is it a question, then, of a “commandment” imposed from without and calling for the impossible, but rather of a freely-bestowed experience of love from within, a love which by its very nature must then be shared with others. Love grows through love. Love is “divine” because it comes from God and unites us to God; through this unifying process it makes us a “we” which transcends our divisions and makes us one, until in the end God is “all in all” (1 Cor 15:28).

[Deus Caritas est, nn.1.18]

1. "If any one says, "I love God', and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him, that he who loves God should love his brother also" (1 Jn 4: 20-21).

The theological virtue of charity, of which we spoke in our last catechesis, is expressed in two dimensions:  love of God and love of neighbour. In both these dimensions it is the fruit of the dynamism of Trinitarian life within us.

Indeed, love has its source in the Father; it is fully revealed in the Passover of the crucified and risen Son, and is infused in us by the Holy Spirit. Through it God lets us share in his own love.

If we truly love with the love of God we will also love our brothers or sisters as God loves them. 

This is the great newness of Christianity:  one cannot love God if one does not love one's brethren, creating a deep and lasting communion of love with them.

2. In this regard, the teaching of Sacred Scripture is unequivocal. The Israelites were already encouraged to love one another:  "You shall not take vengeance or bear any grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbour as yourself" (Lv 19: 18). At first this commandment seems restricted to the Israelites, but it nonetheless gradually takes on an ever broader sense to include the strangers who sojourn among them, in remembrance that Israel too was a stranger in the land of Egypt (cf. Lv 19: 34; Dt 10: 19).

In the New Testament this love becomes a command in a clearly universal sense:  it presupposes a concept of neighbour that knows no bounds (cf. Lk 10: 29-37) and is even extended to enemies (cf. Mt 5: 43-47). It is important to note that love of neighbour is seen as an imitation and extension of the merciful goodness of the heavenly Father who provides for the needs of all without distinction (cf. ibid., v. 45). However it remains linked to love of God:  indeed the two commandments of love are the synthesis and epitome of the law and the prophets (cf. Mt 22: 40). Only those who fulfil both these commandments are close to the kingdom of God, as Jesus himself stresses in answer to a scribe who had questioned him (cf. Mk 12: 28-34).

3. Abiding by these guidelines which link love of neighbour with love of God and both of these to God's life in us, we can easily understand how love is presented in the New Testament as a fruit of the Spirit, indeed, as the first of the many gifts listed by St Paul in his Letter to the Galatians:  "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control" (Gal 5: 22).

Theological tradition distinguishes, while correlating them, between the theological virtues, the gifts and the fruits of the Holy Spirit (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, nn. 1830-1832). While the virtues are dispositions permanently conferred upon human beings in view of the supernatural works they must do, and the gifts perfect both the theological and the moral virtues, the fruits of the Spirit are virtuous acts which the person accomplishes with ease, habitually and with delight (cf. St Thomas, Summa theologiae, I-II, q. 70 a. 1, ad 2). These distinctions are not contrary to what Paul says, speaking in the singular of the fruit of the Spirit. In fact, the Apostle wishes to point out that the fruit par excellence is the same divine charity which is at the heart of every virtuous act. Just as sunlight is expressed in a limitless range of colours, so love is manifest in the multiple fruits of the Spirit.

4. In this regard, it says in the Letter to the Colossians:  "Above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony" (3: 14). The hymn to love contained in the First Letter to the Corinthians (cf. 1 Cor 13) celebrates this primacy of love over all the other gifts (cf. vv. 1-3), and even over faith and hope (cf. v. 13). The Apostle Paul says of it:  "Love never ends" (v. 8).

Love of neighbour has a Christological connotation, since it must conform to Christ's gift of his own life:  "By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren" (1 Jn 3: 16). Insofar as it is measured by Christ's love, it can be called a "new commandment" by which the true disciples may be recognized:  "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another" (Jn 13: 34-35). The Christological meaning of love of neighbour will shine forth at the second coming of Christ. Indeed at that very moment, it will be seen that the measure by which to judge adherence to Christ is precisely the daily demonstration of love for our neediest brothers and sisters:  "I was hungry and you gave me food ..." (cf. Mt 25: 31-46).

Only those who are involved with their neighbour and his needs concretely show their love for Jesus. Being closed and indifferent to the "other" means being closed to the Holy Spirit, forgetting Christ and denying the Father's universal love.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 20 October 1999]

It is an invitation to discover "the idols hidden in the many folds that we have in our personality", to "chase away the idol of worldliness, which leads us to become enemies of God" that Pope Francis addressed during mass this morning, Thursday 6 June, in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae [...] The exhortation to undertake "the path of love to God", to set out on "the way to arrive" to his kingdom was the crowning of a reflection centred on the passage from Mark's Gospel (12:28-34), in which Jesus responds to the scribe who questions him on which is the most important of all the commandments. The Pontiff's first remark is that Jesus does not answer with an explanation but using the word of God: "Listen, Israel! The Lord our God is the only Lord'. These, he said, "are not Jesus' words". In fact, he addresses the scribe as he had addressed Satan in the temptations, 'with the word of God; not with his words'. And he does so using "the creed of Israel, that which the Jews every day, and several times a day, say: Shemà Israel! Remember Israel, to love only God'.

In this regard, the Pontiff confided that he believed that the scribe in question perhaps "was not a saint, and was going a little to test Jesus or even to make him fall into a trap". In short, his intentions were not the best, because "when Jesus responds with the word of God" it means that there is a temptation involved. "And this is also seen when the scribe says to him: you have said well master," giving the impression of approving his answer. That is why Jesus replies to him "you are not far from the Kingdom of God. You know well the theory, you know well that this is so, but you are not far off. You still lack something to get to the Kingdom of God'. This means that there is "a path to get to the Kingdom of God"; one must "put this commandment into practice".

Consequently, "the confession of God is made in life, in the journey of life; it is not enough," the Pope warned, "to say: I believe in God, the only one"; but one must ask oneself how one lives this commandment. In fact, we often continue to "live as if he were not the only God" and as if there were "other divinities at our disposal". This is what Pope Francis calls "the danger of idolatry", which "is brought to us with the spirit of the world". And Jesus was always clear on this: 'The spirit of the world no'. So much so that at the Last Supper he "asks the Father to defend us from the spirit of the world, because it leads us to idolatry". The Apostle James, in the fourth chapter of his letter, also has very clear ideas: he who is a friend of the world is an enemy of God. There is no other option. Jesus himself had used similar words, the Holy Father recalled: 'Either God or money; one cannot serve money and God'.

For Pope Francis, it is the spirit of the world that leads us to idolatry and does so with cunning. "I am sure," he said, "that none of us go in front of a tree to worship it as an idol"; that "none of us have statues to worship in our homes". But, he warned, 'idolatry is subtle; we have our hidden idols, and the road of life to get there, to not be far from the Kingdom of God, is a road that involves discovering hidden idols'. And it is a challenging task, since we often keep them 'well hidden'. As Rachel did when she fled with her husband Jacob from her father Laban's house, and having taken the idols from him, she hid them under the horse on which she sat. So when her father invited her to get up, she replied 'with excuses, with arguments' to hide the idols. We do the same, according to the Pope, who keep our idols 'hidden in our mounts'. That is why 'we must seek them out and we must destroy them, as Moses destroyed the golden idol in the desert'.

But how do we unmask these idols? The Holy Father offered a criterion for evaluation: they are those who make people do the opposite of the commandment: "Listen, Israel! The Lord our God is the only Lord'. Therefore "the way of love to God - you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul - is a way of love; it is a way of faithfulness". So much so that "the Lord likes to compare this road with nuptial love. The Lord calls his Church, bride; our soul, bride'. That is to say, he speaks of "a love that so closely resembles nuptial love, the love of fidelity". And the latter requires us "to cast out idols, to discover them", because they are there and they are well "hidden, in our personality, in our way of life"; and they make us unfaithful in love. In fact, it is no coincidence that the Apostle James, when he admonishes: 'he who is a friend of the world is an enemy of God', begins by rebuking us and using the term 'adulterers', because 'he who is a friend of the world is an idolater and is not faithful to the love of God'. 

Jesus therefore proposes "a way of faithfulness", according to an expression that Pope Francis finds in one of the Apostle Paul's letters to Timothy: "If you are not faithful to the Lord, he remains faithful, because he cannot deny himself. He is full fidelity. He cannot be unfaithful. So much love he has for us". Whereas we, 'with the little or not so little idolatries we have, with our love for the spirit of the world', can become unfaithful. Faithfulness is the essence of God who loves us. Hence the concluding invitation to pray like this: 'Lord, you are so good, teach me this way to be each day less distant from the kingdom of God; this way to cast out all idols. It is difficult," the Pontiff admitted, "but we must begin".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 07/06/2013]

Lk 11:14-23 (14-26)

Prejudice affects the union, and no one can kidnap Jesus, holding him hostage. He’s the strong man that no perched citadel can stem.

Those who fear losing command and their contrived prestige have already lost. There is no armor or booty that can resist and remain.

There is no custom, compromise or gendarmerie which can withstand the siege of Freedom in Christ.

The Scriptures form an inseparable unity. However, only in Him does Tradition not block charisms, doesn’t diminish us, doesn’t cause anxiety, nor lead to scruple - but acquires its vital implication.

In fact, friendship with the Risen is extraordinarily original, and has respect for uniqueness. It’s in a continuity and at the same time in the break with the ancient mind. Vital Monotheism of a new Spirit welcoming the Gifts.

The authorities were attached to the fake prestige they had gained and were very concerned that Jesus was faithful to his unique task.

In Him, the activity of his Church works also exorcisms: it emancipates from dehumanizing forces, conditioning, structures. It moves not on a legalistic level, but on an operative belief-love that guarantees each one that path of spontaneity and fullness desired within.

By overcoming ancient convictions that put people's reality in parentheses and accentuated their blocks, the community of sons is called to become the ‘power’ of God.

Clear sign of the enterprising presence of the personal and diligent Spirit [«the finger of God»: v.20] which surpasses empty and indolent spirituality.

And why does Jesus emphasize that the second fall is more ruinous than the first (vv.24-26)?

While Luke was writing the Gospel, in the mid-80s there were not a few defections due to persecutions.

Believers were disheartened, dismayed by social disdain - so many saw the enthusiasm of the early days pale.

In no way manners of doing were shifting the normal frame of reference, while difficulties were some people discouraging.

Afflictions that seemed to put a tombstone on the hope of actually building an alternative society.

But the Gospel reiterates that a neutral attitude (v.23) at a safe distance is not envisaged. In the vocation there are no half measures: only clear choices, and no repressed needs.

The baptized in Christ lives full attitudes, regardless of favorable circumstances or not;  he remains far from childish fears, enjoys a free heart. He is firm in action.

He foresees that he may be ‘wayfarer’, placed under siege by the system that does not tolerate real changes (v.22).

In this he rests, always involving his own natural and character roots - where the primordial energies of the soul and the innate dreams [that heal and guide] are kept.

For that matter, his itinerary is convoluted, “against traffic”, and surely punctuated with hard lessons. But the very difficult moments will be further ‘calls’ for transformation.

Reborn in Christ who protects and promotes our exceptional originality, we cannot "die" by losing the once-in-a-lifetime Encounter and returning to being photocopies - without Exodus of the soul.

Free toward the Promised Land that belongs to us, we seek not circumstantial perfections, but Fullness.

[Thursday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 12, 2026]

Lk 11:14-23 (14-26)

Prejudice undermines the union, and no one can put Jesus under hijacking, holding him hostage. He is the fortress that no entrenched citadel can hold.

He who fears losing his command and losing his own contrived prestige has already lost. There is no armour or booty that can hold.

No custom or compromise or gendarmerie to trust can withstand the siege of Liberty in Christ.

The Scriptures form an inseparable unity. However, only in Him does Tradition not block charisms, diminish us, cause anxiety, or lead to scruples - rather, it acquires its vital implication.

Friendship with the Risen One is indeed extraordinarily original, and has respect for uniqueness. It lies in a continuity and at the same time in a break with the ancient mind.

It is the vital monotheism of a new Spirit, which welcomes the Gifts.

Whoever does not strive to expand the creative work of the Father, whoever does not try his utmost to understand and enliven situations or persons - even with respect to eccentricities that previously had no place and seemed incommunicable - hovers over illusions, disperses himself, undermines the whole environment.

The Tao Tê Ching (LXV) says: "In ancient times those who well practised the Tao did not make the people discerning with it, but with it they strove to make them dull: the people with difficulty govern themselves, because their wisdom is too much.

Ordinary people accept chaos, they do not avoid life.

Missionaries are trained to find in every toil, in every error or imperfection, a new arrangement, ordered and secret. Nothing is external.

In every uncertainty there is a certainty, in every insecurity a greater security, in every shadowed side an unexpected Pearl, in every disorder a cosmos: this is the secret of life, of happiness, of the experience of Faith.

The authorities were attached to the fake prestige they had won and worried that Jesus would be faithful to his unique task, and could succeed in taking from them the people lured - but now liberated - by the religion of fears.

He [his community] remained more convincing because he fulfilled the Kingdom, he began to show it; not in fantasies of cataclysms that put souls on a leash, but alive and efficient, step by step, person by person.

It met the yearning for human wholeness that inhabited every heart, so it did not rely on obsessions and paroxysms or on the Law, but on the real good, the healing, the ever-changing life.

The cure of individual and relational infirmities was no longer a secondary matter: thus, for example, the liberation of an unhappy individual began to seem an event that had absolute, definitive value.

The scene on earth could no longer be dominated by adapted catechisms and a pious custom that denied everything but fears.

In short, Christ himself is the strong man who sees far, the sign of God's efficacious coming among men.

With him the reign of illusions and fixed positions declines; the world contrary to the unravelling of concrete existence takes over, respecting the uniqueness and conviviality of differences.

The activity of his Church works exorcisms: it emancipates from dehumanising forces-conditions-structures.

In the Lord, it moves not on a legalistic plane, but on a plane of operative belief-love, which guarantees to each one that path of spontaneity and fullness desired in the inner self.

Today too, the fraternal community must become aware of being an instrument of redemption and the energetic presence of God among ordinary women and men, from all walks of life.

Conspect, existence, participation. To lead, to accompany towards a present-future that gives breath not only to the group, but also to the individual inclination, by name.

Children's assemblies are empowered by grace and vocation to untie knots and overcome fences of mentality - thus giving rise to a sympathetic environment that accepts wayfarers.

This is the principle, non-negotiable horizon of the Faith.

By overcoming old fixed convictions that bracket the reality of people and accentuate their blockages, the community of children in the Risen One is called to become the power of God, for each one.

It is urged to become a clear sign of the enterprising closeness of the personal and diligent Holy Spirit ["the finger of God": v.20].

Contact that overcomes the reassuring and empty spirituality, as well as the superficial, indolent distraction of devotion according to custom imposed by convention or fashion, and by chains of command.

But why does Jesus emphasise that the second fall is more ruinous than the first (vv.24-26)?

The believer's mind can be emptied of the great step of the living Christ - which it has previously practised and recognised within itself and in the mission.

In this way, it does not remain focused on something useful, vital and splendid: weakened, it is lost.

While Lk wrote the Gospel, in the mid-1980s there were quite a few defections due to persecution. 

Believers were disheartened, dismayed by social scorn - so many saw the enthusiastic intoxication of the early days pale.

Love could not be banked, but several brethren in congregations already coming from paganism, after an initial conversion experience, preferred to return to their former life, to imitating models, to easy thinking, to the lure and approval of the crowds.

Falling back and resigning themselves to the forces at work, some abandoned the position of inner autonomy gained through the liberating action from idols, fostered by the wise and prayerful life in the fraternal community.

Then they also sought individual reparation and revenge for the difficult years spent in being faithful to their vocation, in that stimulus to grow together through the exchange of gifts and resources.

Lk warns: it is normal that there are as many nights as days.

One understands the stress of wandering to approach the infinity of the soul, the next (even of community), the competitive reality - but beware... a second fall would be worse than the first.

The person once restored to himself and who gives up everything demoralised, would then give way to general disillusionment, to a more global lack of judgement, awareness, and trust.

This still happens today because of particular impulses, discouragement, or precipitation, after seeing ideals shattered by imperfect circumstances.

Or due to the fatigue of facing discoveries and evolutions that always call everything into question - in the long time it takes for one to be patiently consistent with one's deepest codes.

So those who allow themselves to be shattered would easily return to seeking the go-ahead of others.

He would yearn for that alignment that hides conflicts and makes one tremble less - because the ancient conviction that has become a modus vivendi does not shift one's ways, nor the normal frame of reference.

The difficulties made some people's arms fall off, and this seemed to put a tombstone on the hope of actually building an alternative society without doing too much harm to themselves.

But the Gospel reiterates that there is no neutral attitude (v.23) at a safe distance.

There are no half-measures: only clear choices, and no suppressed needs.

Integrated yes: contradictory sides always dwell in the heart, there is no need to be dismayed by this.

Opposite states of being are a richness that completes us.

On the contrary, one becomes neurotic precisely when reductionist manias or monothematic (club) needs prevail and stifle the multifaceted Calling - which although chiselled for uniqueness, never becomes one-sided.

To live fully, freely and happily, it is good to be ourselves, aware of what we are: perfect children.

Indefectible women and men, for our task in the world.

So we can overlook the discomfort of the insults of those who scold and levell us, let them flow away - and dispense with chasing after praise.

The man of Faith has experienced and knows the essential: it is life that conquers death, not vice versa. So he neglects obsessions, even cloaked in the sacred; and he does not let the spirit wear him down.

It enjoys a critical conscience that knows how to place immediate results in the background; thus it regenerates. It ceaselessly reactivates and does not eradicate strength.

The baptised in Christ lives full attitudes, in order to authenticity and totality of being. This, regardless of favourable or unfavourable circumstances.

The friend of the Risen Jesus remains distant from childish fears, enjoys a free heart; he is firm in action.

He anticipates that he may be a wayfarer, besieged by the hysterical system, which does not tolerate real change (v.22).

In this he rests, always calling upon his natural and character roots - where the primordial energies of the soul and the innate (non-derivative) dreams that heal and guide are stored.

After all, his journey is against the grain and will surely be punctuated with hard lessons.

But the cliché is all induced silliness; it tries to invade us with recriminations without specific weight: attempts at blocking with no future.

No wonder the acolytes of the conformist world defend themselves in every way.

And attacks with that standard - socially 'appreciative' - vociferousness that attempts to accentuate intimate and personal conflicts.

Always with great means at their disposal, and by appealing to guilt.

We will still walk the Lord's way, even when urged on by doubts and indecisions. Without retreating, even when we feel lost - but with the taste of gain even in loss.

The most difficult moments will be further calls to transformation.

And in every circumstance we will experience the taste of the victory of full life over the power of evil and the imitative, other people's, banal cultural tenor. 

Here - in fidelity to our own inner world that wants to express itself, and in a change of style or imagination in our approaches - we solve the real problems and all issues, in a rich, personal way.

Reborn in Christ who protects and promotes from exceptional originality, we cannot "die" by losing the essence and the unrepeatable Encounter.

We would return to identifying ourselves in roles, as photocopies - without the Journey of the soul.

Free towards the promised land that belongs to us, we do not seek perfection of circumstance, but fullness.

To internalise and live the message:

Who and what activates me or loses me?

Is Jesus my Lord, or am I [status, my group, 'proper' manners, even religious influences] His master?

How do I deal with situations?

Do I open breaches and not disperse, in harmony with the old and new Voice of the soul, and in the Spirit?