Third Lent Sunday (year A) [8 March 2026]

May God bless us and the Virgin Mary protect us! Have a good Lenten journey as we pause today with Jesus at the well, a place of life-changing encounters.

*First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:3-7)

Looking at a map of the Sinai desert, Massa and Meriba are nowhere to be found: they are not specific geographical locations, but symbolic names. Massa means 'challenge', Meriba means 'accusation'. These names recall an episode of challenge, of protest, almost of mutiny against God. The episode takes place in Rephidim, in the middle of the desert, between Egypt and the Promised Land. The people of Israel, led by Moses, advanced from stage to stage, from one water source to another. But at Rephidim, the water ran out. In the desert, under the scorching sun, thirst quickly becomes a matter of life and death: fear grows, panic takes over. The only right response would have been trust: 'God wanted us to be free, he proved it, so he will not abandon us'. Instead, the people give in to fear and react as we often react ourselves: they look for someone to blame. And the culprit seems to be Moses, the 'government' of the time. What is the point, they say, of leaving Egypt only to die of thirst in the desert? Better to be slaves but alive than free but dead. And, as always happens, the past is idealised: they remember the full pots and abundant water of Egypt, forgetting the slavery. In reality, behind the accusation against Moses, there is a deeper accusation: against God himself. What kind of God is this, they ask themselves, who frees a people only to let them die in the desert? The protest: Why did you bring us out of Egypt? To let us, our children and our livestock die of thirst? It becomes increasingly harsh, until it turns into a real trial against God: as if God had freed the people only to get rid of them. Moses then cries out to the Lord: What shall I do with this people? A little more and they will stone me!

And God replies: he orders him to take the staff with which he had struck the Nile, to go to Mount Horeb and to strike the rock. Water gushes forth, the people drink, and their lives are saved (cf. Exodus 17). That water is not only physical relief: it is a sign that God is truly present among his people, that he has not abandoned them and that he continues to guide them on the path to freedom. For this reason, that place will no longer be called simply Rephidim, but Massah and Meribah, 'Testing and Accusation', because there Israel tested God, asking themselves: Is the Lord among us or not? In modern language: 'Is God for us or against us?' This temptation is also ours. Every trial, every suffering, reopens the same original question: can we really trust God? It is the same temptation recounted in the Garden of Eden (Genesis): the suspicion that God does not really want our good poisons human life. This is why Jesus Christ, teaching the Our Father, educates his disciples in filial trust. Do not abandon us to temptation could be translated as: "Do not let our Refidim become Massa, do not let our places of trial become places of doubt." Continuing to call God "Father," even in difficult times, means proclaiming that God is always with us, even when water seems to be lacking.

*Responsorial Psalm (94/95), 

In the Bible, the original text of the psalm reads as follows: "Today, if you hear his voice,

do not harden your hearts as at Massah and Meribah, as on the day of Massah in the desert, where your fathers tested me even though they had seen my works." This psalm is deeply marked by the experience of Massah and Meribah. This is why the liturgy proposes it on the third Sunday of Lent, in harmony with the story of the Exodus: it is a direct reference to the great question of trust. In a few lines, the psalm summarises the whole adventure of faith, both personal and communal. The question is always the same: can we trust God?

For Israel in the desert, this question arose at every difficulty: ' Is the Lord really among us or not?' In other words: can we rely on Him? Will He really support us? Faith, in the Bible, is first and foremost trust. It is not an abstract idea, but the act of 'relying' on God. It is no coincidence that the word 'Amen' means 'solid', 'stable': it means 'I trust, I have faith' . This is why the Bible insists so much on the verb 'to listen': when you trust, you listen. It is the heart of Israel's prayer, the Shema Israel: Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God... You shall love Him, that is, you shall trust Him. 'To listen' means to have an open ear. The psalm says: 'You have opened my ear' (Ps 40), and the prophet Isaiah writes: The Lord God has opened my ear. Even 'obeying' in the Bible means this: listening with trust. This trust is based on experience. Israel has seen the 'work of God': liberation from Egypt. If God has broken the chains of slavery, He cannot want His people to die in the desert. This is why Israel calls him 'the Rock': it is not poetry, it is a profession of faith. At Massah and Meribah, the people doubted, but God brought water out of the rock: since then, God has been the Rock of Israel. Even the story of the Garden of Eden (Genesis) can be understood in the light of this experience: every limitation, every command, every trial can become a question of trust. Faith is believing that, even when we do not understand, God wants us to be free, alive and happy, and that from our situations of failure he can bring forth new life. Sometimes this trust resembles a 'leap of faith' when we cannot find answers. Then we can say with Simon Peter in Capernaum: 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life'. When Paul of Tarsus writes: ' Be reconciled to God', it is like saying: stop suspecting God, as at Massah and Meribah. And when the Gospel of Mark says, 'Repent and believe in the Gospel', it means: believe that the Good News is truly good, that God loves you. Finally, the psalm says, 'Today'. It is a liberating word: every day can be a new beginning. Every day we can relearn to listen and to trust. This is why Psalm 94/95 opens the Liturgy of the Hours every morning and Israel recites the Shema twice a day. And the psalm speaks in the plural: faith is always a journey of a people. 'We are the people He guides'. This is not poetry: it is experience. The Bible knows a people who, together, come to meet their God: "Come, let us acclaim the Lord, let us acclaim the rock of our salvation." It is faith that comes from trust, renewed today, day after day.

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Romans (5:1-2, 5-8)

Chapter 5 of the Letter to the Romans marks a decisive turning point. Up to this point, Paul of Tarsus had spoken of humanity's past, of pagans and believers; now he looks to the future, a future transfigured for those who believe, thanks to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. To understand Paul's thinking clearly, we can summarise it in three fundamental statements. 1. Christ died for us while we were sinners. Paul affirms that Christ died 'for us'. This expression does not mean 'in our place', as if Jesus had simply replaced those who were condemned, but 'on our behalf'. When humanity was incapable of saving itself, marked by violence, injustice, greed for power and money, Christ took this reality upon himself and fought it to the point of giving his life.

Humanity, created for love, peace and sharing, had lost its way. Jesus comes to say, with his life and death: "I will show you to the very end what it means to love and forgive. Follow me, even if it costs me my life."

2. The Holy Spirit has been given to us: God's love dwells in us. The second great affirmation is this: the Holy Spirit has been given to us, and with him, God's own love has been poured into our hearts. It is no coincidence that Paul speaks of the Spirit for the first time when he speaks of the cross. For him, passion, cross and gift of the Spirit are inseparable. Here Paul is in complete harmony with the evangelist John. In his Gospel, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jesus promises "living water," explaining that he was speaking of the Spirit (cf. Gospel of John (7:37-39). And at the moment of the cross, John writes: Bowing his head, Jesus gave up his spirit (Jn 19:30). The promise is fulfilled: from the cross comes the gift of the Spirit. 3. Our 'boast' is the hope of God's glory. Paul also speaks of 'pride', but he makes it clear: we cannot boast about ourselves, because everything is a gift from God; but we can boast about God's gifts, about the wonderful destiny to which we are called. The Spirit already dwells in us, and we know that one day this same Spirit will transform our bodies and hearts into the image of the risen Christ.

The account of the Transfiguration has given us a foretaste of this glory.

From Massah and Meribah to glory. What an immense journey compared to Massah and Meribah, where the people doubted God! Now, thanks to our faith in Christ, we can say with Paul: "Through him we also have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (5:2). In conclusion, the Spirit that Jesus has given us is the very love of God. This certainty should overcome all fear. If God's love has been poured into our hearts, then the forces of division will not have the last word.

For believers, and for all humanity, hope is well-founded, because "the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (5:5).

*From the Gospel according to John (4:5-42) 

Jesus meets us today at the well. And this detail is not secondary. In the Bible, the well is never just a place where water is drawn: it is a place of decisive encounters, where life changes direction. At a well, Abraham's servant  meets Rebecca, who will become Isaac's wife; at a well, Jacob  falls in love with Rachel. At the well, relationships, alliances and the future are born. When John places Jesus at a well, he is telling us that something decisive is about to happen. Jesus arrives at Jacob's well in Samaria. It is midday. Jesus is tired and sits down. The Gospel immediately shows us a God who stops, who accepts fatigue, who enters our life as it is. Salvation begins with a pause, not with a spectacular gesture. At that hour, a woman arrives. She is alone. Jesus says to her, 'Give me a drink'. It is a surprising request. Jesus, a Jew, speaks to a Samaritan woman; a man speaks to a woman; a righteous man speaks to a person whose life has been wounded. God does not enter our lives by imposing himself, but by asking. He becomes a beggar for our hearts. From that simple request, a dialogue arises that goes ever deeper. Jesus leads the woman from the external well to her inner thirst: "If you knew the gift of God..." The water that Jesus promises is not water to be drawn every day, but a spring that gushes within, a life that does not run dry. It does not eliminate daily life, but transfigures it from within. Then Jesus touches on the truth of the woman's life. He does not judge her, he does not humiliate her. In the Gospel, truth does not serve to crush, but to liberate. Only those who accept to be known can receive the gift. The woman then asks a religious question: where should God be worshipped? On the mountain or in the temple? Jesus responds by shifting the focus: no longer where, but how. 'In Spirit and truth'. God is no longer encountered in one place as opposed to another, but in a living relationship. The true temple is the heart that allows itself to be inhabited. When the woman speaks of the Messiah, Jesus makes one of the most powerful revelations in the entire Gospel: 'I am he, the one who is speaking to you'. The Messiah does not manifest himself in the temple, but in a personal dialogue, at a well, to a woman considered unclean. As in the ancient stories of wells, here too the encounter opens up a promise: but now the Bridegroom is Jesus Christ and the covenant is new. The woman leaves her jug behind. It is a simple but decisive gesture. The jug represents old certainties, repeated attempts to quench a thirst that never goes away. Those who have encountered Christ no longer live to draw water, but to bear witness. The woman runs into town and says, 'Come and see'. She does not give a lesson, she recounts an encounter. And many believe, to the point of saying, 'Now we no longer believe because of what you said, but because we ourselves have heard'. Today's Gospel tells us this: Christ does not take us away from the well of life, but transforms the well into a place of salvation. Our thirst becomes an encounter, the encounter becomes a gift, the gift becomes a source for others. This is Lent: allowing ourselves to be encountered by Christ and becoming, in turn, living water for those who are thirsty.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Lk 15:1-3.11-32)

Love is a Feast, not an exchange of favors. So we aren’t marked for life, because the Father knows that our paradoxical escapes are dictated by a need (or legitimate fixation): to breathe.

And we must be proud of ourselves.

Inside our “Home” there is no freedom, because older brothers are sometimes unbearable.

They impose performance, they understand everything, and check for any comma; they imagine that everyone should receive a salary according to merit, rhythm, ability, effort, overtime hours, and «Yessir».

Grim about everything, they whine only because they imagine that one has to ask permission from authority even to rejoice in life and make noise for free. Their “duty and obey” kills Tenderness.

The Father, on the other hand, prevents us from feeling degraded, so He does not want to listen to the list of transgressions that the "pure" doesn’t know but imagines and foolishly spells out, because he represses them inside and in secret cultivates [identifying them with pleasure!].

He does not want us to make the mistake that ruins the whole of life and not just a few stretches of the path: to feel like wage earners. Thus He educates to let good prevail over evil, without demeaning anyone.

Everywhere we find a master who exploits. And even if we only return Home out of calculation, God prevents us from getting down on our knees.

We recite the Lord's Prayer standing: with Him we are always valiant face to face, and He likes «symphonies and choirs».

Tao Tê Ching (x) says: «Preserve the One by abiding in the two souls: are you capable of not making them separate?».

Contradiction inhabits each of us and the merciful Father doesn’t call anyone to wear inner or outer straitjackets according to perfection.

He doesn’t intend to absorb the life even of our subtleties and nuances, nor to reduce the coexistence of faces.

He knows that the evolution of each is combined with a varied experiential language, capable at its time of combining ancient wealth, personal inclinations, even momentary ones, and unexpected novelties.

If we deny the soul’s universe and the multitude of its antinomies, idioms, and co-present characters - like the two sons both contradictory but ultimately complementary - we would never have all the prospects for a growth in life and for the evolution in expressive strength of the Faith.

In the Artwork of the Spirit, Richness’ Opportunities for all, and... no one humiliated.

Everyone now free. How wonderful, such a monstrance! A living Body of Christ that smells of Sharing!

This is the beautiful and royal awareness that smoothes out and makes the content of the Announcement credible (vv.1-2).

Henceforth, the distinction ‘believers and non-believers’ will be much deeper than between the pure and the impure: a whole different caliber - and the beginning of a life as saved people.

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the discombobulated son and the precise one (in us), i.e. the more rubricistic - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character (the rigid one and the distracted one).

He will even make them flourish: they will become indispensable and winning aspects of the future testimony.

Tao Tê Ching [xlv] says: «Great straightness is like sinuosity, great skill is like ineptitude, great eloquence is like stammering».

To internalize and live the message:

When do I take myself hypocritical and close-hearted? When do I realize instead of being the protagonist of what the Father shares?

[Saturday 2nd wk. in Lent, March 7, 2026]

Lk 15:1-3.11-32 (Lk 15:1-32)

Value of imperfect uniqueness

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

(Lk 15:1-10)

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

Says the Tao Tê Ching (x): "Preserve the One by dwelling in the two souls: are you able to keep them apart?"

Even in the spiritual journey, Jesus is careful not to propose a dictated or planned universalism, as if his were an ideal model, "for the purpose of homogenisation" (Brothers All No.100).

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

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

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

In the Son, God is revealed no longer as exclusive property, but as the Power of Love that forgives the marginalised and lost: saving and creating, liberating. And through the disciples, he unfolds his Face that recovers, breaks down the usual barriers, calls out to miserable multitudes.

It seems an impossible utopia to realise in concrete terms (today of the health and global crisis), but it is the sense of the handover to the Church, called to become an incessant prod of the Infinite and ferment of an alternative world, for integral human development:

"Let us dream as one humanity, as wayfarers made of the same human flesh, as children of this same earth that is home to us all, each with the richness of his faith or convictions, each with his own voice, all brothers!" (FT no.8).

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

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

The swamp of stagnant energy that is generated by accentuating boundaries does not make anyone grow: it locks in the usual positions and leaves everyone to make do or lose themselves. Out of self-interested disinterest - that impoverishes everyone.

This made the creative virtues fall into despair.

And it plunged those who were outside the circle of the elect - anterior ones who had nothing superior. In fact, Luke portrays them as utterly incapable of beaming with human joy at the progress of others.

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

Instead, God is at the antipodes of the fake sterilised - or disembodied thinking - and looking for the one who wanders shakily, easily becomes disoriented, loses his way.

Sinful yet true, therefore more disposed to genuine Love. That is why the Father is searching for the insufficient.

The person who is so limpid and spontaneous - even if weak - hides his best part and vocational richness precisely behind his apparently detestable sides. Perhaps that he himself does not appreciate.

This is the principle of Redemption that astonishes and makes interesting our often distracted paths, conducted by trial and error - in Faith, however, generating self-esteem, credit, fullness and joy.

The commitment of the purifier and the impetus of the reformer are 'trades' that seemingly oppose each other, but are easy... and typical of those who think that the things to be challenged and changed are always outside themselves.

For example, in mechanisms, in general rules, in the legal framework, in worldviews, in formal (or histrionic) aspects instead of the craft of the concrete particular good; and so on.

They seem to be excuses not to look inside oneself and get involved, not to meet one's deepest states in all aspects and not only in the guidelines. And to recover or cheer up individuals who are concretely lost, sad, in all dark and difficult sides.

But God is at the antipodes of sterilised mannerists or fake idealists, and in search of the insufficient: he who wanders and loses his way. Sinful yet true, therefore more disposed to genuine Love.

The transparent and spontaneous person - even if weak - hides his best part and vocational richness precisely behind the apparently detestable aspects (perhaps which he himself does not appreciate).

Let us then ask for a solution to the mysterious, unpredictable interpersonal energies that come into play; from within things. 

Without interfering with or opposing ideas of the past or future that we do not see. Rather by possessing its soul, its spontaneous drug.

This is the principle of Salvation that astounds and makes interesting our paths [often distracted, led by trial and error] - ultimately generating self-esteem, credit and joy.

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

After all, a life of the saved is not one's own making, nor is it exclusive possession or private ownership - which turns into duplicity.

It is not the squeamish attitude, nor the cerebral attitude, that unites one to Him. The Father does not blandish suppliant friendships, nor does He have outside interests.

He rejoices with everyone, and it is need that draws Him to us. So let us not be afraid to let Him find us and bring us back (v.5)... to His house, which is our house.

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

For the LORD is not pleased with marginalisation, nor does he intend to extinguish the smoking lamp.

Jesus does not come to point the finger at the bad times, but to make up for them, by leveraging intimate involvement. Invincible force of faithfulness.

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

[What attracts one to participate and express oneself is to feel understood, restored to full dignity - not condemned].

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

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises again:

Jesus - our Engine and Motive - "had an open heart, which made the dramas of others its own" (n.84).

And he adds as an example of our great Tradition:

"People can develop certain attitudes which they present as moral values: fortitude, sobriety, industriousness and other virtues. But in order to properly direct the acts [...] we must also consider to what extent they realise a dynamism of openness and union [...] Otherwise we will only have appearances'.

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

In sects or one-sidedly inspired groups, human and spiritual riches are deposited in a secluded place, so they grow old and debased.

In the assemblies of the sons and daughters, on the other hand, they are shared: they grow and communicate; multiplying, they green up, for universal benefit.

To internalise and live the message:

What attracts you to the Church? In comparisons with the top of the class, do you feel judged or adequate?

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

Mutual pride, no discouragement

(Lk 15:11-32)

I had never understood what God's mercy had to do with my dignity: why should the pose of the sons [who sooner or later return] be the one depicted by Rembrandt - one standing, the other kneeling?

If the young man runs away because the atmosphere set up by the pretensions of the elder brothers is unbearable, should he also shave his head and stand in penance - hoping at best to be an object of compassion?

No, otherwise the master of the house would not have clothed his runaway son with cassock and ring, i.e. appointed him - foolishly - as the new head of administration of the house. As if everything were regular.

In the Year of the Father, I admired the chromatic artistry of the work now in the Hermitage, but the composition and sense of the figures did not sit well with me.

Worn feet, unserviceable footwear, I could even understand them. But not the stance of a bumbling man in search of an absurd and forced empathy.

The suit torn in several places, without a dignified belt - perhaps sold out of necessity - and replaced by a miserable scullion's lanyard, all right.

But the small sword hanging from his right hip seemed to me to illustrate that despite his disgrace and shaved slave head, the young man had not lost his cynical opportunism.

In my spiritual grammar at the time, however, the bald head already alluded to the idea of the unborn child.

In the seminary I realised that beyond events, we are unceasingly generated as fresh and clean creatures; never humiliated.

The emphasis of this Gospel in the penitential liturgies tinged with ambiguity for me: the protagonist is the yielding Father, not the lopsided actions of the son who runs away and comes back out of calculation (and will run away again).

Tapered, strong hands: only His are so complete.

In Liturgy classes I had also learnt the meaning of 'red': royalty capable of rewinding the lost; colour in unison with the tenderness of flesh and its living generosity.

And it is all carnal in its stooping down to stra-bacch [falling on the neck: thus the Greek text] the rediscovered and reborn. 

It is not a notary's gesture that finds, but one that shortens the distance and removes the dishonour of the rifts, unbridgeable by Perfection.

It justifies: it creates justice where there is no justice.

The opposite of the eldest son, upright and certain of his give and take; not solicitous to lift anyone up, let alone the weak.

He has a gaze that only sees the wretched on the outside, does not grasp the scene from within.

The elder brother remains rigid and indignant: no symphonies and choruses, but only realises his efficient service.

And he even whines, because in everything he imagines he has to ask permission, even to be able to party (v.29): the infantilism of the obedient... formalist and calibrated.

To the official icon of the Year of the Father I preferred the focus of Andrea Palma's painting at the Galleria Borghese - albeit less aesthetically creative and fascinating.

I understood further by delving into the text. And I became aware of the biblical meaning of a suppressed commandment [but a point of strength and distinction in the approach to God, a specificity of evangelical spirituality]: "Thou shalt not make thyself an image" (Ex 20:3-4ff; Deut 5:8ff).

The ancient precept supposes that representations detract from the Logos and the You-for-you, depersonalising the relationship with the Father: they perhaps deflect it and confuse it.

It is precisely the most attractive features, descriptive or decorative, that are sometimes able to dampen the disruptive force of the missionary Word, with its raw and biting tone, not at all intimist.

[In sacred art, especially Latin figurative art has pretensions that dwarf the impulse of the Text, not infrequently normalised according to 'cultural' and moral clichés].

The son does not return because he is intimately repentant, but out of opportunism and sheer hunger - and prepares a speech that might convince the parent. Indeed, it has moved many generations.

The Father prevents him from finishing the ready-made sentence (vv.18-19), precisely at the point where the son intended to express himself as a servant put to wages (vv.21-22). This is the whole game.

Thanks to his radical experience in the journey of faith, Andrea Palma, the lesser-rated but religious artist of the friars of St. Dominic, sensed what all traditional iconography - captured by clichés - had never grasped.

The Recall of the famous parable is not for the irritated, uninhibited and spendthrift young man, then repentant in pretense - but for the 'first-born' (vv.2-3) who still kidnap the Gratis.

The Father had shown respect for conscience and even yielded, but with a firm gesture he does not allow them to kneel.

He decisively prevents us from making the only mistake he really cares to avoid, because we would ruin not only the moral character of one section of existence, but the whole life of our neighbour as well - by becoming ridiculous, disassociated and hostile like the 'greater ones'.

In the sight of God we are equal, not beneath. He does not humiliate, he does not discredit, he does not demand that we bow down before Him or some guru who imposes external artifices.

It was good to know that - despite the sullen looks of the major gendarmes - I too would always fall on my feet.

Merciful Father and prodigal son: the Fierceness will be mutual.

No disheartened

Love is a Feast, not an exchange of favours.

So we are not marked for life, for He knows that our paradoxical escapes are dictated by a need (or legitimate fixation): to breathe.

And we must be proud of ourselves.

Inside the house there is no freedom, because the 'big brothers' are sometimes unbearable.

They impose performance, they understand everything, they control every comma; they imagine that everyone should be paid according to merit, pace, ability, effort, overtime hours, (manners and) sirs.

Arcane about everything, they whine only because they imagine that one must ask permission from authority even to rejoice in life and make noise for free.

Their 'must and obey' kills Tenderness.

The Father, on the other hand, prevents us from feeling degraded, so he does not want to hear the list of transgressions that the 'pure' one does not know but imagines and foolishly punctuates, because he represses them within and secretly cultivates them [identifying them with pleasure!]

He does not want us to make the mistake that ruins the whole of life and not just a few stretches of the path: to feel salaried.

In this way, he educates us to let good prevail over evil, without demeaning anyone.

Everywhere we find a master who exploits. And even if we only return home out of calculation, God prevents us from getting down on our knees.

We recite the Lord's Prayer standing: with Him we are always valiant face to face, and He likes "symphonies and choirs".

For an interiorisation of discernment

Although the Father is not understood by any of His intimates, He stands tall, remaining yielding without any demeanour. 

Not by being good and decent, but by being wise: the life of both sons would not be advanced by exasperating their fulcrums, denying forces, poles, sides of the soul, but by integrating these powers and taking them as a supplement. By recognising and coalescing them.

The famous parable is unsuccessful due to the fact that the certain conclusion of the plot does not and must not exist.

The two of them [who are each of us, at the same time, deep inside] will continue the usual indecent story of being in and out of the house.

All this in a brazen manner. But then they will know the many slopes of themselves - even in opposition.

This is perhaps the most relevant aspect: based on the different motions of the soul and happenings, everyone is called to his or her own (unpredictable) synthesis.

It can vary not only in situation, but also with respect to different ages, in the spirit.

Gradually the solution makes its way, but it does not emerge in the regularity of decent events - from alienated women and men.

Elder and younger son are co-present aspects in each.

It is a paradoxical condition, but one that makes it possible to be richer: e.g. not always neurotic, narrow-minded, stressful and busy like the eldest son; not only wild, epidermic and impulsive like the youngest.

Change and variegated calibre are resources that trigger both pauses and leaps forward, and the Father knows this.

God wants us complete: capable of imagining and thinking, but also solid.

Whereas a master father would place us where he needs us and it would be enough for him if we were servile servants of the boss.

Then we would be good and placed where he puts us for his needs.

Civil servants... without that ductile cooperation that opens up varied experience and a correlative added value - able to elaborate and to be.

Thus and in the Exodus of each character.

Evolving the polyhedron of the personality, and growing in freedom; towards an ever more convinced alliance and integration, and its fulfilment in Love.

In stagnating situations, the drive of unconditional understanding and friendship that makes the weak strong act as an unsurpassable therapy - an incentive to continue the journey.

In Journey, they are relationships that accept and welcome, accommodate and bless contrasts (in the case of the two, reliability and fantasy, for example).

By letting the conflicting slopes surface, all dispositions and talents... both better self-knowledge and external relationships, become territories of new expression.

Expansion of life, by innate plastic energies, which make the soul rich and confirm [or contest and denounce, in the case of conformism] personal inclinations.

Spiritual guides linked to customary and commonplace religiosity tend to make us deny contradictions. But this cuts the person back, saps his strength and impoverishes the even intimate situation, annihilating his normal drives.

And it inoculates the idea that God himself is a reductionist totem, not the Source, the exuberance of life and the platform of Being that we experience in particular essences.

Not infrequently, self-righteous religiosity reduces life in the Spirit to trifles, muddling us in puddles.

Conversely, communion with the Father enjoys perceiving the power of full Wholeness, which makes day and night meet.

The soul only feels fit if the magma of conflicting powers that it perceives and grasps are recognised, blessed.

The many nuances allow us to measure ourselves against different unities, and to be aware of opposing sides - from which intermediate sides will germinate.

Neglecting to welcome them is fruitless: we could not deal unconditionally with the facets of reality and the multitude of characters we carry within.

They are forces that come to our aid, recuperate, complement, according to events or personal sensitivity.

If we remain enclosed in an idol, in a chiselled idea, in a task, in a role, in manners, in even hyperactive and respectable, or faux-transgressive, mannerisms, to be recited, we would lose the opportunity and the capacity to recreate ourselves, the Church, the world.

Evangelisation itself must be able to take on unforeseen variations; so must missionary activity, which often goes hand in hand with an enterprising soul, full of discrepancies that open up the search for dialogue and the risk of empathy; going beyond the so-called 'charisma'.

Contradiction dwells in each of us and the merciful Father does not call anyone to put on inner or outer straitjackets.

He does not intend to absorb the life of our subtleties and nuances, nor does he intend to reduce the co-presence of faces.

He knows that each one's evolution is matched by a varied experiential language; capable in its own time of combining ancient richness, personal inclinations even momentary, and unexpected novelties. 

If we deny the manifold universe of the soul and the multitude of its antinomies, idioms and co-present characters - like the two sons who are both contradictory but ultimately complementary - we would never have all the prospects for a growth of the life-wave and for evolution in the expressive power of Faith.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xix): 'There is more to be observed: show yourself simple and keep yourself raw'.

In the Work of the Spirit, Occasions of Wealth for all, and... no one disheartened.

All now free. How wonderful, such a monstrance! A living Body of Christ that smells of Sharing!

This is the beautiful and regal awareness that levelled and made credible every content of the Proclamation (vv.1-2).

Henceforth, the distinction between believers or non-believers will be much deeper than between pure and impure, performers or not.

A whole other carat - and principle of a saved existence.

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the unhinged son and the precise one (in us) that is the more rubricistic - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character (the rigid one and the distracted one).

It will even make them flourish: they will become indispensable and winning aspects of future testimony.

Says the Tao Tê Ching [XLV]: 'Great uprightness is like sinuosity, great skill is like ineptitude, great eloquence is like stammering'.

Merciful Father and prodigal son: the Fierceness will be mutual.

To internalise and live the message:

When do I find myself hypocritical and narrow-hearted? When do I realise instead that I am the protagonist of what the Father shares?

The Parable of the Prodigal Son is one of the best-loved passages of Sacred Scripture. Its profound description of God's mercy and the important human desire for conversion and reconciliation, as well as the mending of a broken relationship, speak to men and women of every epoch. Man is frequently tempted to exercise his freedom by distancing himself from God. The experience of the Prodigal Son enables us to note, both in history and in our own lives, that when freedom is sought outside God the result is negative: a loss of personal dignity, moral confusion and social disintegration. The Father's passionate love for humanity, however, triumphs over human pride. Freely given, it is a love that forgives and leads people to enter ever more deeply into the communion of the Church of Christ. He truly offers to all peoples unity in God, and, just as this is perfectly demonstrated by Christ on the Cross, reconciles justice and love (cf. Deus Caritas Est, n. 10).

And what of the elder brother? Is he not, in a certain sense, all men and women as well; perhaps particularly those who sadly distance themselves from the Church? His rationalization of his attitude and actions evokes a certain sympathy, yet in the final analysis illustrates his inability to understand unconditional love. Unable to think beyond the limits of natural justice, he remains trapped within envy and pride, detached from God, isolated from others and ill at ease with himself.

Dear Brothers, as you reflect upon the three characters in this parable - the Father in his abundant mercy, the younger son in his joy at being forgiven, and the elder brother in his tragic isolation - be confirmed in your desire to address the loss of a sense of sin, to which you have referred in your reports. This pastoral priority reflects an eager hope that the faithful will experience God’s boundless love as a call to deepen their ecclesial unity and overcome the division and fragmentation that so often wound today’s families and communities. From this perspective, the Bishop’s responsibility to indicate the destructive presence of sin is readily understood as a service of hope: it strengthens believers to avoid evil and to embrace the perfection of love and the plenitude of Christian life.

[Pope Benedict, Address to the Bishops of Canada 9 October 2006]

"I believe in the remission of sins"

1. Continuing our reflection on the meaning of conversion, today we will also try to understand the meaning of the forgiveness of sins offered to us by Christ through the sacramental mediation of the Church.

First of all, we want to consider the biblical message about God's forgiveness:  a message that is amply developed in the Old Testament and reaches its fullness in the New. The Church has inserted this article of her faith into the Creed itself, where in fact she professes the forgiveness of sins:  Credo in remissionem peccatorum.

2. The Old Testament speaks to us in various ways about the forgiveness of sins. In this regard we find a variety of terms:  sin is "forgiven", "blotted out" (Ex 32: 32), "purged" (Is 6: 7), "cast behind your back" (Is 38: 17). For example, Psalm 103 says, "who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases" (v. 3). "He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor requite us according to our iniquities.... As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who fear him" (vv. 10, 13).
God's mercy is revealed in Jesus' words and deeds

God's willingness to forgive does not lessen man's responsibility and his need to be converted. However, as the prophet Ezekiel stresses, if the wicked man turns away from his wrongful behaviour his sins will not be remembered and he will live (cf. Ez 18, especially vv. 19-22).

3. In the New Testament, God's forgiveness is revealed through Jesus' words and deeds. In pardoning sins, Jesus shows the face of God the merciful Father. By opposing certain religious tendencies marked by hypocritical severity towards sinners, he shows on various occasions how great and profound is the Father's mercy towards all his children (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 1443).

The high point of this revelation can be considered the sublime parable which is usually called "the prodigal son", but which should be called "the merciful father" (Lk 15: 11-32). Here God's attitude is presented in terms that are truly overwhelming in comparison with human criteria and expectations. The father's conduct in the parable can be understood in all its originality, if we keep in mind that in the social context of Jesus' time it was normal for sons to work in their father's house, like the two sons of the vineyard owner, of whom he speaks in another parable (cf. Mt 21: 28-31). This system continued until the father's death, and only then did the sons divide the property they had inherited. In our case, instead, the father agrees to give the younger son his share of the inheritance and divides his possessions between him and his elder son (cf. Lk 15: 12).

4. The younger son's decision to be emancipated, squandering the goods he had received from his father and living a dissolute life (cf. ibid., 15: 13), is a shameless rejection of family communion. 

Leaving the father's house clearly expresses the meaning of sin as an act of ungrateful rebellion with its humanly painful consequences. Human reasonableness, in some way expressed in the elder brother's protest, would have recommended an appropriately severe punishment for the younger son's decision before he could fully rejoin the family.

But the father, catching sight of him while still a long way off, runs to meet him full of compassion (or better, "inwardly moved with pity", as the Greek text literally says:  Lk 15: 20), embraces him lovingly and wants everyone to celebrate with him.

The father's mercy is even more apparent when he tenderly reprimands the elder brother for demanding his own rights (cf. ibid., 15: 29f.), and invites him to the communal banquet of joy. Mere legalism is surpassed by the father's generous and gratuitous love, which exceeds human justice and calls both brothers to be seated again at the father's table.

Forgiveness consists not only in taking back under the paternal roof the son who has left, but also in welcoming him with the joy of restored communion, bringing him from death to life. This is why "it was fitting to make merry and be glad" (ibid., 15: 32).

The merciful Father who embraces the prodigal son is the definitive icon of God revealed by Christ. First and foremost he is Father. It is God the Father who extends his arms in blessing and forgiveness, always waiting, never forcing any of his children. His hands support, clasp, give strength and, at the same time, comfort, console and caress. They are the hands of both a father and a mother.

The merciful father in the parable possesses and transcends all the traits of fatherhood and motherhood. In throwing himself on his son's neck, he resembles a mother who caresses her son and surrounds him with her warmth. In the light of this revelation of the face and heart of God the Father, we can understand Jesus' saying, so disconcerting to human logic:  "There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance" (ibid., 15: 7). And:  "There is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents" (ibid., 15: 10).

5. The mystery of "home-coming" wonderfully expresses the encounter between the Father and humanity, between mercy and misery, in a circle of love that touches not only the son who was lost, but is extended to all.

The invitation to the banquet which the father extends to the elder son implies the heavenly Father's exhortation to all the members of the human family to be merciful as well.

The experience of God's fatherhood implies the acceptance of "brotherhood", precisely because God is the Father of all, even of our erring brother.

In recounting this parable, Jesus does not only speak of the Father but also lets us glimpse his own sentiments. To the Pharisees and the scribes who accused him of receiving sinners and eating with them (cf. ibid., 15: 2), he shows his preference for the sinners and tax collectors who were approaching him with trust (cf. ibid., 15: 1), and thus reveals that he has been sent to manifest the Father's mercy. This is the mercy that shines brightly especially on Golgotha, in the sacrifice offered by Christ for the forgiveness of sins (cf. Mt 26: 28).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 8 September 1999]

The Gospel [...] recounts the so-called Parable of the Prodigal Son (cf. Lk 15:11-32). It leads us to the heart of God,  who always forgives compassionately and tenderly. Always, God always forgives. We are the ones who tire of asking for forgiveness, but he always forgives. It [the parable] tells us that God is a Father who not only welcomes us back, but rejoices and throws a feast for his son who has returned home after  squandering all his possessions. We are that son, and it is moving to think about how much the Father always loves us and waits for us.

But there is also the elder son in the same parable who manifested his resentment in front of this Father. It can put us into crisis as well. In fact, this elder son is also within us and we are tempted to take his side, at least in part: he had always done his duty, he had not left home, and so he becomes indignant on seeing the Father embracing his [other] son again after having behaved so badly. He protests and says: “I have served you for so many years and never disobeyed your command”. Instead, for “this son of yours”, you go so far as to celebrate! (cf. vv. 29-30) “I don’t understand you!” This is the indignation of the elder son.

These words illustrate the elder son’s problem. He bases his relationship with his Father solely on pure observance of commands , on a sense of duty. This could also be our problem, the problem among ourselves and with God: losing sight that he is a Father, and living a distant religion, made of prohibitions and duties. And the consequence of this distance is rigidity towards our neighbour whom we no longer see as a brother or sister. In fact, in the parable, the elder son does not say my brother  to the Father. No, he says that son of yours , as if to say: he is not my brother. In the end, he risks remaining outside of the house. In fact, the text says: “he refused to go in” (v. 28), because the other one was there.

Seeing this, the Father goes out to plead with him: “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours” (v. 31). He tries to make him understand that for him, every child is all of his life. Parents know this well and are very close to feeling like God does. Something a father says in a novel is very beautiful: “When I became a father, I understood God” (H. de Balzac, Le Père Goriot).  At this point in the parable, the Father opens his heart to his elder son and expresses two needs, which are not commands, but essentials for his heart: “It was fitting to make merry and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive” (v. 32). Let us see if we too have in our hearts these two things the Father needs: to make merry and rejoice .

First of all, to make merry , that is, to demonstrate our closeness to those who repent or who are on the way, to those who are in crisis or who are far away. Why should we do this? Because this helps to overcome the fear and discouragement that can come from remembering one’s sins. Those who have made mistakes often feel reproached in their own hearts. Distance, indifference and harsh words do not help. Therefore, according to the Father, we have to offer them a warm welcome that encourages them to go ahead. “But father, he did so many things”: a warm welcome. And we, do we do this? Do we look for those who are far away? Do we want to celebrate with them? How much good an open heart, true listening and a transparent smile can do; to celebrate, not to make them feel uncomfortable! The Father could have said: “Okay, son, come back home, come back to work, go to your room, establish yourself and your work! And this would have been a good way to forgive. But no! God does not know how to forgive without celebrating! And the Father celebrates because of the joy he has because his son has returned.

And then, like the Father, we have to rejoice . When someone whose heart is synchronized with God’s sees the repentance of a person, they rejoice, no matter how serious their mistakes may have been. They do not stay focused on errors, they do not point fingers at what they have done wrong, but rejoice over the good because another person’s good is mine as well! And we, do we know how to look at others like this?

I would like to recount a fictional story, but one that helps illustrate the heart of the father. There was a pop theatre production, three or four years ago, about the prodigal son, with the entire story. And at the end, when that son decides to return to his father, he talks about it with a friend and says: “I’m afraid my father will reject me, that he won’t forgive me”. And the friend advises him: “Send a letter to your father and tell him, ‘Father, I have repented, I want to come back home, but I’m not sure that you will be happy. If you want to welcome me, please put a white handkerchief in the window’”. And then he began his journey. And when he was near home, at the last bend in the road, he had the house in view. And what did he see? Not one handkerchief: it was full of white handkerchiefs, the windows, everywhere! The Father welcomes us like this, completely, joyfully. This is our Father!

Do we know how to rejoice for others? May the Virgin Mary teach us how to receive God’s mercy so that it might become the light by which we see our neighbours.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 27 March 2022]

(Mt 21:33-43.45-46)

Christ introduces everyone to an adventurous, uncomfortable journey, not without pitfalls that throw the situation upside down and destabilize - but it’s the Way for each of us to recognize himself.

Otherwise we would not get closer to the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity - virtues that are necessary for rebirth, even from global emergency.

Jesus uses the figure of the Vineyard to describe the work of God and the response of men - first and foremost spiritual leaders (v.23).

Religious leaders were like this: hostile to divine action; equipped to appear, nevertheless violent and sclerotic.

The directors to whom Jesus addresses, follow the entire metaphor step by step - and they seem to find themselves unguarded. They only remain speechless at the end.

Why does He ask them imperatively: «Listen you» [which is not a simple invitation]?

From the beginning speaks with a master tone. Why?

He’s Lord of those to whom he actually addresses: the Christ so much invoked by new caste of "pharisees" back in the communities, where top of the class already claimed to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated in third generation assemblies, especially by their chiefs.

Church elders who were already annoyed at taking care of the little people, who on the other hand came to the threshold of the communities with the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these «last» the new prophets called by God to awaken the immobility situation (of bosses) - comparable to the same swampy reality of other religions of time.

Everywhere and even today some potentates discriminate and manipulate consciences in order to protect their world - by eliminating Jesus Present, who recurs in the small, innocent and transparent ones.

Veterans accustomed to directing do not notice that they are decreeing their own condemnation (v. 41).

Of course, Christ doesn’t intend to ridicule anyone: He wanted to lead people to ‘tell the truth’ about themselves.

In Gospel the behavior of the titled people doesn’t change. On the contrary, feeling unmasked gets worse it, and only the hesitation of losing face in public can restrain them (vv.45-46).

But now they know who they are - so much so that they are ashamed to openly plot.

Categories that are considered closer to Paradise - those who produce inedible grapes - excluded from the testimony of the Kingdom innervated by tinies’ crowd.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of inept settlers (v.43).

It’s «good news»: the Eternal one achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who should serve Him, and instead use Him.

In short, for Jesus the great enemy of God is expediency.

Even amidst ungenerous brutality and accusations of being deluded dreamers, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit are ready for succession.

An unstoppable course, sprinkled by the stream of blood of the prophets (v.46).

Outcasts, shunned, expelled, and to be crushed - but not locked into mental patterns: capable of giving free rein to regenerative energies.

Consciousness of the world, divorced from compromise.

[Friday 2nd wk. in Lent, March 6, 2026]

(Mt 21:33-43.45)

This is a continuing metaphor, rather than a parable; hence the fruit of post-Easter reflection - let us see why.

Christ introduces everyone to an adventurous, uncomfortable path, not without pitfalls that throw things off and destabilise - but it is the Way for each of us to recognise ourselves.

We would not otherwise approach the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity - virtues that are necessary for rebirth, even from global emergency.

Jesus uses the image of the Vineyard to describe the work of God and the response of men - first and foremost of spiritual leaders (v.23).

Ancient religious leaders were like this: hostile to divine action; equipped to appear, yet violent and sclerotic.

The leaders Jesus addresses follow the whole metaphor step by step - they seem to find themselves unequipped - and are only left speechless at the end.

Why does he address them imperatively: 'Listen' [which is not a simple invitation]?

Right from the start he speaks in a masterly tone. Why?

He is Lord of those he actually addresses: the Christ so much invoked by the new caste of 'Pharisees' back in their assemblies, where the top of the class were already claiming to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated in the third generation fraternities, especially by their leaders.

Church elders who were already annoyed to deal with the petty people who came to the threshold of the communities in the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these 'last ones' who were the new prophets called by God to awaken the situation of immobility (of the veterans) - comparable to the same swampy reality of other religions at the time.

Thus, we proceed to a possible identification:

The hedge or wall surrounding the Vineyard is the proposal God has revealed to protect us from other senseless and self-destructive models of life [non-Faith paradigms].

The crusher means: nothing was missing [the Lord took great care of it], and also the waiting for the time of joy, of the juice of love.

In short: excellent conditions and abundant result; maximum production of intoxication - one would expect. But...

The winegrowers are the constituted authorities. They have been given the task of placing us in the best position and in the right conditions for our growth and blossoming.

Indeed, under ideal conditions each one can produce the fruit of love that the 'master of the field' expects.

The two groups of envoys are prophets sent by the Father before and after the Babylonian exile - in vain - to call for concrete adherence, fidelity to the Covenant.

All ended badly, because the reference point of the devout people and the irresponsible leaders remained identical: appropriation.

Here are the different groups in power at the time of Jesus:

Temple workers [priests] managed tithes, specific taxes, offerings.

The high priest was chosen from among the members of the families of the aristocracy that flaunted the most power and wealth.

The Sadducees were precisely the aristocratic elite; for themselves secular, very wealthy. They willingly involved themselves in the Temple's commerce as well, and in the landed estates.

Pharisees were the leaders of popular religiosity, who advocated total respect for the Law, especially the rules of purity. And also that of the various Traditions, even oral.

Their ethical authority was based on exemplarity and a sense of sacred [and moralistic] separation. Exemplarity felt and recognised in every village in Palestine.

The 'Elders' were chiefs of the people (local, village or town authorities); descendants of the chiefs of the ancient tribes.

Scribes [doctors of the law] were those who, after a lifetime of studying the Word of God, were elevated to the rank of official theologians of the Sanhedrin.

Although divided into two sects - one favouring the Sadducees, the other the Pharisees - their prestige even managed to obscure the letter of the Torah. Indeed, in the event of a disagreement between the Law and their interpretation, it was the latter that was esteemed superior.

Jesus, on the other hand, discredited the learned, who willingly distorted and sophistrated the meaning of the sacred Scriptures - always to their own advantage.

He was well aware that his denunciation would cost him his life, because he unmasked the whole system of gains, balances and positions.

Yet he never backed down an inch.

Everywhere and even today, certain potentates discriminate and manipulate consciences to protect their commissions and their own farcical world of public and private relations.

In spite of all the polite and mannerist firebrands, often taking out the Present Jesus in the small, innocent and transparent. 

Conversely, the supreme stewards of the House of God must adopt an attitude of service to the Vineyard; they must not draw up their own life plans, to which everyone - including the Father - must adapt.

It is for this reason that the Son demanded to dismantle that structure: even to supplant the Temple with His living Person.

A real mortal threat to the system, which by now could not even stand the interference of God Himself.

But if it was irreverent to substitute the life of the people for the stone sanctuary, it also seemed sacrilegious to consider the Torah regime transitory.

The Pentateuch was the core of the identity of the 'chosen people'. This idea was interpreted with a rigid sense of permanence - although its practice did not bring happiness, but dissatisfaction.

Yet the veterans accustomed to pyramid situations - and to leadership - did not even realise that they were thus decreing their own doom (v.41).

Of course, Christ does not intend to ridicule anyone: He wants to bring people to question themselves, and tell the truth about themselves.

In the Gospel, the behaviour of the titled of official devotion does not change; on the contrary, feeling unmasked, it gets worse.

Only the qualms of losing face in public can restrain them (vv.45-46).

But now they know who they are, so much so that they are ashamed to plot openly.

The categories 'at the centre', who consider themselves closest to Heaven and therefore holders of power (which they demand for themselves), are assiduously those who produce inedible grapes.

Circles excluded from bearing witness to the Kingdom.

The aged forces only know how to oppose. Life-long leaders - pretentious gourds - always love leadership, and (too) their own interest, not that of the petty crowd.

Sadly, the gospel passage is a fresco of the entire history of salvation, where disdain not infrequently prevails - and it is relevant today.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of the inept settlers (v.43).

It is "glad tidings": the Eternal One achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who should represent him, and instead use him. Having no fruit of love to return.

In short, it is our story. An enigma of redemption, capable of taking on even violence and rebellion.

For Jesus, there is no privileged ethnicity or civilisation - because God's great enemy is not sin in the sense of imperfection, but convenience.

Convenience coupled with disinterest and (self-interested) contempt: a problem that returns - closing the story.

And yet, when the days of fervour fade and the situation comes to a standstill because of those who see election as a privilege rather than a service, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit ceaselessly arrive. Ready for the succession of minds and hearts, even amidst ungenerous brutalities and accusations of being deluded dreamers.

An unstoppable course, sprinkled by the prophets' stream of blood (v.46).

Outcasts, shunned, expelled and to be crushed - but not locked into outdated mental patterns: capable of giving free rein to regenerating energies.

World-consciousness, detached from compromise.

The [...] page of the Gospel according to Matthew, [proposes] to our liturgical assembly an evocative allegorical image of Sacred Scripture: the image of the vineyard which we have heard mentioned on the preceding Sundays. The initial passage of the Gospel account refers to the "canticle of the vineyard" which we find in Isaiah. This is a canticle set in the autumnal context of the grape harvest: a miniature masterpiece of Hebrew poetry which must have been very familiar to those listening to Jesus and from which, as from other references by the prophets (cf. Hos 10: 1; Jer 2: 21; Ez 17: 3-10; 19: 10-14; Ps 79: 9-17), it was easy to understand that the vineyard symbolized Israel. God bestowed the same care upon his vineyard, upon the People he had chosen, that a faithful husband lavishes upon his wife (cf. Ez 16: 1-14; Eph 5: 25-33).

Therefore the image of the vineyard, together with that of the wedding feast, describes the divine project of salvation and is presented as a moving allegory of God's Covenant with his People. In the Gospel, Jesus takes up the canticle of Isaiah but adapts it to his listeners and to the new period in salvation history. The emphasis is not so much on the vineyard as on the workers in it, from whom the landowner's "servants" ask for rent on his behalf. However, the servants are abused and even murdered. How is it possible not to think of the vicissitudes of the Chosen People and of the destiny reserved for the prophets sent by God? In the end, the owner of the vineyard makes a final attempt: he sends his own son, convinced that at least they will listen to him. Instead the opposite happens: the labourers in the vineyard murder him precisely because he is the landowner's son, that is, his heir, convinced that this will enable them to take possession of the vineyard more easily. We are therefore witnessing a leap in quality with regard to the accusation of the violation of social justice as it emerges from Isaiah's canticle. Here we clearly see that contempt for the master's order becomes contempt for the master: it is not mere disobedience to a divine precept, it is a true and proper rejection of God: the mystery of the Cross appears.

What the Gospel passage reports challenges our way of thinking and acting. It does not only speak of Christ's "hour", of the mystery of the Cross at that moment, but also of the presence of the Cross in all epochs. It challenges in a special way the people who have received the Gospel proclamation. If we look at history, we are often obliged to register the coldness and rebellion of inconsistent Christians. As a result of this, although God never failed to keep his promise of salvation, he often had to resort to punishment. In this context it comes naturally to think of the first proclamation of the Gospel from which sprang Christian communities that initially flourished but then disappeared and today are remembered only in history books. Might not the same thing happen in our time? Nations once rich in faith and vocations are now losing their identity under the harmful and destructive influence of a certain modern culture. There are some who, having decided that "God is dead", declare themselves to be "god", considering themselves the only architect of their own destiny, the absolute owner of the world. By ridding himself of God and not expecting salvation from him, man believes he can do as he pleases and that he can make himself the sole judge of himself and his actions. However, when man eliminates God from his horizon, declares God "dead", is he really happy? Does he really become freer? When men proclaim themselves the absolute proprietors of themselves and the sole masters of creation, can they truly build a society where freedom, justice and peace prevail? Does it not happen instead - as the daily news amply illustrates - that arbitrary power, selfish interests, injustice and exploitation and violence in all its forms are extended? In the end, man reaches the point of finding himself lonelier and society is more divided and bewildered.

Yet there is a promise in Jesus' words: the vineyard will not be destroyed. While the unfaithful labourers abandon their destiny, the owner of the vineyard does not lose interest in his vineyard and entrusts it to other faithful servants. This means that, although in certain regions faith is dwindling to the point of dying out, there will always be other peoples ready to accept it. For this very reason, while Jesus cites Psalm 118[117], "The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone" (v. 22), he gives the assurance that his death will not mean God's defeat. After being killed, he will not remain in the tomb, on the contrary, precisely what seems to be a total defeat will mark the beginning of a definitive victory. His painful Passion and death on the Cross will be followed by the glory of his Resurrection. The vineyard, therefore, will continue to produce grapes and will be rented by the owner of the vineyard: "to other tenants who will give him the fruits in their seasons" (Mt 21: 41).

The image of the vineyard with its moral, doctrinal and spiritual implications was to recur in the discourse at the Last Supper when, taking his leave of the Apostles, the Lord said: "I am the true vine and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch of mine that bears no fruit, he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes that it may bear more fruit" (Jn 15: 1-2). Thus, starting from the Paschal event, the history of salvation was to reach a decisive turning point and those "other tenants" were to play the lead as chosen shoots grafted on Christ, the true vine, and yield abundant fruits of eternal life (cf. Collect). We too are among these "tenants", grafted on Christ who desired to become the "true vine" himself. Let us pray the Lord that in the Eucharist he will give us his Blood, himself, that he will help us to "bear fruit" for eternal life and for our time.

The comforting message that we gather from these biblical texts is the certainty that evil and death do not have the last word but that it is Christ who wins in the end. Always! The Church never tires of proclaiming this Good News, as is also happening today, in this Basilica, dedicated to the Apostle to the Gentiles who was the first to spread the Gospel in vast regions of Asia Minor and Europe. We shall meaningfully renew this proclamation at the 12th General Ordinary Assembly of the Synod of Bishops whose theme is "The Word of God in the life and mission of the Church". I would like to greet here with cordial affection all of you, venerable Synod Fathers, and all those who are taking part in this meeting as experts, auditors and special guests. I am pleased also to welcome the Fraternal Delegates of other Churches and Ecclesial Communities. I extend to the Secretary General of the Synod of Bishops and his collaborators the expression of gratitude of us all for the hard work they have carried out in the past months, together with my good wishes for the efforts that await them in the coming weeks.

When God speaks, he always asks for a response. His saving action demands human cooperation; his love must be reciprocated. Dear brothers and sisters, may what the biblical text recounts about the vineyard never occur: "[he] looked for it to yield grapes but it yielded wild grapes" (Is 5: 2). The Word of God alone can profoundly change man's heart so it is important that individual believers and communities enter into ever increasing intimacy with his Word. The Synodal Assembly will focus attention on this fundamental truth for the life and mission of the Church. To draw nourishment from the Word of God is her first and fundamental task. In fact, if the Gospel proclamation is her raison d'être and mission, it is indispensable that the Church know and live what she proclaims, so that her preaching may be credible despite the weaknesses and poverty of the people of whom she is comprised. We know, furthermore, that the proclamation of the Word, at the school of Christ, has the Kingdom of God as its content (cf. Mk 1: 14-15, but the Kingdom of God is the very person of Jesus who, with his words and actions, offers salvation to people of every epoch. Interesting in this regard is St Jerome's reflection: "Whoever does not know Scripture does not know the power and wisdom of God, then ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ" (Prologue of the commentary on Isaiah: n. 1, CCL 73, 1).

In this Pauline Year we hear the cry of the Apostle to the Gentiles resounding with special urgency: "Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel!" (1 Cor 9: 16); a cry that becomes for every Christian a pressing invitation to serve Christ. "The harvest is plentiful" (Mt 9: 37) the Divine Teacher still repeats today: so many still do not know him and are awaiting the first proclamation of his Gospel; others, although they received a Christian formation, have become less enthusiastic and retain only a superficial contact with God's Word; yet others have drifted away from the practice of the faith and need a new evangelization. Then there are plenty of people of right understanding who ask themselves essential questions about the meaning of life and death, questions to which only Christ can give satisfactory answers. It is, therefore, becoming indispensable for Christians on every continent to be ready to reply to those who ask them to account for the hope that is in them (cf. 1 Pt 3: 15), joyfully proclaiming the Word of God and living the Gospel without compromises.

[Pope Benedict, opening homily XII Synod of Bishops 5 October 2008]