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

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

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

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

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

*Responsorial Psalm 18/19

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

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

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

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

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

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

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Not from the precept, but from the overthrow

(Lk 10:25-37)

«You are a fool and a samaritan!» - so the Jewish leaders (Jn 8:48). «No, I am not crazy...»: this is how the Stranger defended himself from the accusation that the fanatics moved to him, of being a possessed, obsessed and mentally ill.

Yet he quietly accepted the infamous title of «Samaritan»... epithet that designated one out of the loop, a vilified by decent people. 

An excluded person from the sacred enclosure; practically alien, irritating, avulsive, heretic and impure: a «bastard» and deranged who allowed himself to preach love in all decisions [heart], at every moment [life], with any of the resources [forces], not excluding intelligence, nor the others’ legitimate desire for the full being (v.27).

Well, the non-careless perception and the very sensitive work of a "mestizo" seem to be those of God!

They answer the crucial, intimate question: «Who loves me first, so that feeling welcomed, adequate and appreciated, I too can love my neighbour?» (v.29).

We know the Gospel passage. Those obsessed with ritual purity [the ministers who had just officiated] become ruthless.

And here is a new Decalogue, with an accumulation of "verbs" of the «take charge»:

«He came near, and saw him, moved to piety, went down, poured out his first aid, wrapped the wounds, loaded the wretched on the mount, brought him in the abode that receives everyone, took care, pulled out money».

Finally He exposed himself, with special regard also for a thoughtful and further look: «I will return to pay, where necessary».

The Ten authentic new Decrees deify us without deception, in harmony with the plan and the feeling of the Father in our favor: neither He nor his intimates ‘pass beyond’ the victims.

Promise and concern that ramify on our future: when there should be something else to be put in addition, the Friend Rescuer will give it in more and always.

From here Love starts: from Someone who considers us, without conditions.

Therefore, despite the risk of becoming entangled in the situation, even the common sons of God ‘notice’ the wounds, and does not “neglect” the shaky persons.

They identifiy with, preferring to challenge the events - redeeming the beaten, cornered as refusals that now await only the coup de grâce.

He’s a God of concrete experience; without patterns. And He tells us:

We are totally lovable in every condition, not "wrong" or marked for life.

From this awareness springs the desire and energy of altruistic love - even unknown and without reputation.

As the encyclical Brothers All emphasizes, so it will be possible to «start from below and, case by case, act at the most concrete and local levels, and then expand to the farthest reaches of our countries and our world, with the same care and concern that the Samaritan showed for each of the wounded man’s injuries» (n.78).

In the desert of Judah, on an engraved stone of a caravanserai that a tradition wanted to identify as the Everyone’s Home [image of the Church] to which Jesus referred in the parable - more or less halfway between Jerusalem and Jericho - an anonymous pilgrim wrote in medieval Latin:

«If even priests and the churchmen pass over your anguish, know that Christ is the good Samaritan, who will always have compassion on you, and in the hour of your death He will introduce you in the eternal Inn. Whoever you are, He will take you there».

[15th Sunday (year C), July 13, 2025]

Not from the precept, but from the overthrow

(Lk 10:25-37)

"You are a fool and a Samaritan!" - accused the Jewish leaders (Jn 8:48). "No, I am not mad...": this is how the Stranger defended himself against the accusation that the fanatics made against him, that he was possessed, obsessed and mentally ill.

Yet he calmly accepted the infamous title of 'Samaritan'... an epithet designating one who was out of the loop, vilified by decent people. 

One excluded from the sacred enclosure; practically an outsider, an irritant, an outsider, a heretic and impure: a 'bastard' and unbalanced, uninterested in his career, in the face of which one had to find strength in coalition.

The ancient religion seemed to have achieved tried and tested balances, sustained by the leadership of the interested alliance between throne and altar. Yet there was nervousness and dissatisfaction in the faithful.

The leaders quoted Scripture from memory, but to create restrictions - demonising those who did not immediately recognise them as 'authority'.

According to the Law - Leviticus and Numbers - the rules of purity prevented those who officiated in the Temple from touching a wounded person.

But the practitioners of the sacred do not understand that ancient procedures are worthless if they cause suffering to others.

By sacralising their own grievances, the legalists in the parable imagine that they do not have to learn anything, so they become perhaps worse than the insensitive and qualunquist: to us they appear rather, cruel and inhuman.

When there is a conflict between religious norms and the good of the brothers, they already have their excuses ready: they do not even notice the others. Painful events do not call them out, do not concern them.

In this way, even the traps of the vain against Jesus were never dialogue: always projections.

And the questions were only hurled to ridicule him, not to understand - question - or create freedom.

In short: what matters to some is the integrity of the doctrine-discipline and the prestige of the institution (which rules it).

Yet we ask ourselves: how much is the joy of humanity, and the good of the unfortunate, worth?

The man of 'titles' has no doubts whatsoever.

On the other hand, the careless perception and sensitive work of a 'half-breed' seem to be those of God himself!

The Lord gladly narrated his proposal of sharing, and of the new face of the believer.

Let us say it in words closer to us:

"Listen... no curtains: Love has no end point, and the believer is not one who obeys external provisions, but one who resembles God!".

After a brief reflexive gasp that he tried to disguise, the disposition expert retorted:

"Nice to say, of course; but how is it done in practice?".

And Jesus:

"In the same way as you think and equip yourself and desire fullness of life for yourself: in every decision [heart], in every moment of the way [life], with any of your resources [strength], not excluding intelligence" (cf. Mk 12:29-31), nor the legitimate desire for the life of others (v.27).

Already boiling over, the veteran squabbler played his last cards:

"I have to put a boundary on my neighbour, don't I?! And I justify myself again: who is 'my' neighbour?" (Lk 10:29).

"That is: who ever listens and loves me first, so that I can really do to others what I always desire for myself, even to those far away and enemies?"

"They do not feed us... and perhaps do not even respect us! So who is first 'to me' neighbour?"

Again the doctor of the law 'stood over', looming over the onlookers; but the different Rabbi did not flinch.

In conversations he was often forced (and accustomed) to lift his head, looking up at his interlocutor.

Everyone posed as an expert and chosen one, ready to scrutinise and judge; no one to be a disciple, subordinate and servant like him.

This is how he had behaved both with Zacchaeus (Lk 19:5) and with the adulteress - perhaps caught in the act by the group of peepers and watchers of public decency in Jerusalem (Jn 8, vv. 2.6-8.10; Greek text).

That carpenter's son proclaimed Father the One who related from below, without prior judgement; who made himself the Servant of man, putting himself on a par with the least.

In short, the crucial question was:

"Who loves me first, so that by feeling welcome, adequate and appreciated, I too may love my neighbour"?

The young Rabbi then told a story, to emphasise who is neighbour - He who is first Intimate and Close to us; so that we too are generated to proximity.

The ancient list of the Ten Commandments had over time become almost only an underlining of natural transience.

It was a code that imbued and exhausted the very souls most attentive to the ideal of perfection.

The last of the famous Words was summarising, but terrible: "Thou shalt not covet"!

It had spread dramatic lacerations and a sense of emptiness in the affairs of those closest to them who continued to attempt the impossible adventure.

Thus, the obsessives of ritual purity [priest and sacristan who had just officiated] became - by Law - ruthless.Instead, here proclaimed - by the stranger who had just arrived - a new Decalogue, with an accumulation of "verbs" of "taking charge":

"He came near, saw him, moved to pity, went down, poured out his first aid, bound up his wounds, loaded on his horse, carried to the dwelling that welcomes all, took care, brought out money".

Finally, he expounded, with special regard also for a caring and additional outlook: 'I will return to pay, where necessary'.

The authentic Ten New Decrees deify us without deception, in keeping with the Father's plan and feeling on our behalf: neither He nor His "pass over" victims.

In short, the Lord announced a different "Sacrifice".

In the custom of the time, through worship, the victim was supposed to be taken out of profane contact, in a bloody manner; on an altar.

With this sacral practice, the priests ideally introduced the victim into the world of the Most High, through the shedding of blood or a holocaust.

Instead, the Messiah did not want to distance the criteria of sanctification from the lives of ordinary people.

That which is made sacred [sacrifice: sacer-sacrum facere] must never depart from reality. It does not pass into the sphere of purity by means of a 'separation' from the weekday unclean.

For Jesus it is Communion - conviviality of differences - that transfigures the ordinary into the "Holy", because such a relationship makes the weak strong; and lifts all from misery.

Promise and concern that branch out into our future: when there is something else to be added, the Relief Friend will give it more and always.

This is where Love starts: from Someone who considers us, unconditionally.

Therefore, despite the risk of getting entangled in the situation, even the ordinary child of God notices and does not pass over the shaky person.

He identifies with it, preferring to defy the unknowns - and redeem the beaten, cornered like a reject who now only awaits the coup de grace.

He is a God of concrete experience; without schemes. And he tells us:

We are totally lovable in every condition, not 'wrong' or scarred for life.

From such awareness springs the desire and energy of selfless love - even unknown and without reputation.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises, so it will be "possible to start from the bottom and case by case, to fight for what is most concrete and local, to the last corner of the homeland and the world, with the same care that the wayfarer of Samaria had for every wounded man's wound" (No.78).

In the wilderness of Judah, on an engraved stone of a caravanserai that one tradition has identified as the Everyone’s House [image of the Church] to which Jesus referred in the parable - more or less halfway between Jerusalem and Jericho - an anonymous pilgrim wrote in medieval Latin

"If even priests and churchmen pass over your distress, know that Christ is the Good Samaritan, who will always have compassion on you, and at the hour of your death will bring you into the eternal inn. Whoever you are, He will take you there".

This Sunday's Gospel begins with the question that a lawyer asks Jesus:  "Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?" (Lk 10: 25). Knowing him to be expert in Sacred Scripture, the Lord asks this man to give the reply himself; indeed, he formulates it perfectly, citing the two main commandments:  you shall love the Lord your God, with all your heart, and with all your mind and with all your strength, and love your neighbour as yourself. Then the lawyer, as if to justify himself, asks:  "And who is my neighbour?" (Lk 10: 29). This time, Jesus answers with the famous words of the "Good Samaritan" (cf. Lk 10: 30-37) in order to show that it is up to us to make ourselves the neighbour of all who are in need of help. In fact, the Samaritan takes charge of the condition of a stranger whom robbers have left half dead on the wayside; while a priest and a Levite had passed him by, perhaps thinking, on account of a precept, that they would be contaminated by the contact with blood. The Parable must therefore induce us to change our mindset in accordance with the logic of Christ, which is the logic of charity:  God is love, and worshipping him means serving our brethren with sincere and generous love. 

This Gospel account offers the "standard", that is, "universal love towards the needy whom we encounter "by chance' (cf. Lk 10: 31), whoever they may be" (Encyclical Deus Caritas Est, n. 25). Besides this universal rule there is also a specifically ecclesial requirement:  that "in the Church herself, as family, no member should suffer because he is in need" (ibid.). The Christian's programme, learned from Jesus' teaching, is "a heart which sees" where there is a need for love, and acts accordingly (cf. ibid., n. 31).

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 11 July 2010]

The different commandments of the Decalogue are really only so many reflections of the one commandment about the good of the person, at the level of the many different goods which characterize his identity as a spiritual and bodily being in relationship with God, with his neighbour and with the material world. As we read in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, "the Ten Commandments are part of God's Revelation. At the same time, they teach us man's true humanity. They shed light on the essential duties, and so indirectly on the fundamental rights, inherent in the nature of the human person".

The commandments of which Jesus reminds the young man are meant to safeguard the good of the person, the image of God, by protecting his goods. "You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness" are moral rules formulated in terms of prohibitions. These negative precepts express with particular force the ever urgent need to protect human life, the communion of persons in marriage, private property, truthfulness and people's good name.

The commandments thus represent the basic condition for love of neighbour; at the same time they are the proof of that love. They are the first necessary step on the journey towards freedom, its starting-point. "The beginning of freedom", Saint Augustine writes, "is to be free from crimes... such as murder, adultery, fornication, theft, fraud, sacrilege and so forth. When once one is without these crimes (and every Christian should be without them), one begins to lift up one's head towards freedom. But this is only the beginning of freedom, not perfect freedom...".

14. This certainly does not mean that Christ wishes to put the love of neighbour higher than, or even to set it apart from, the love of God. This is evident from his conversation with the teacher of the Law, who asked him a question very much like the one asked by the young man. Jesus refers him to the two commandments of love of God and love of neighbour (cf. Lk 10:25-27), and reminds him that only by observing them will he have eternal life: "Do this, and you will live" (Lk 10:28). Nonetheless it is significant that it is precisely the second of these commandments which arouses the curiosity of the teacher of the Law, who asks him: "And who is my neighbour?" (Lk 10:29). The Teacher replies with the parable of the Good Samaritan, which is critical for fully understanding the commandment of love of neighbour (cf. Lk 10:30-37).

These two commandments, on which "depend all the Law and the Prophets" (Mt 22:40), are profoundly connected and mutually related. Their inseparable unity is attested to by Christ in his words and by his very life: his mission culminates in the Cross of our Redemption (cf. Jn 3:14-15), the sign of his indivisible love for the Father and for humanity (cf. Jn 13:1).

Both the Old and the New Testaments explicitly affirm that without love of neighbour, made concrete in keeping the commandments, genuine love for God is not possible. Saint John makes the point with extraordinary forcefulness: "If anyone 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" (Jn 4:20). The Evangelist echoes the moral preaching of Christ, expressed in a wonderful and unambiguous way in the parable of the Good Samaritan (cf. Lk 10:30-37) and in his words about the final judgment (cf. Mt 25:31-46).

15. In the "Sermon on the Mount", the magna charta of Gospel morality, Jesus says: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law and the Prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them" (Mt 5:17). Christ is the key to the Scriptures: "You search the Scriptures...; and it is they that bear witness to me" (Jn 5:39). Christ is the centre of the economy of salvation, the recapitulation of the Old and New Testaments, of the promises of the Law and of their fulfilment in the Gospel; he is the living and eternal link between the Old and the New Covenants. Commenting on Paul's statement that "Christ is the end of the law" (Rom 10:4), Saint Ambrose writes: "end not in the sense of a deficiency, but in the sense of the fullness of the Law: a fullness which is achieved in Christ (plenitudo legis in Christo est), since he came not to abolish the Law but to bring it to fulfilment. In the same way that there is an Old Testament, but all truth is in the New Testament, so it is for the Law: what was given through Moses is a figure of the true law. Therefore, the Mosaic Law is an image of the truth".

Jesus brings God's commandments to fulfilment, particularly the commandment of love of neighbour, by interiorizing their demands and by bringing out their fullest meaning. Love of neighbour springs from a loving heart which, precisely because it loves, is ready to live out the loftiest challenges. Jesus shows that the commandments must not be understood as a minimum limit not to be gone beyond, but rather as a path involving a moral and spiritual journey towards perfection, at the heart of which is love (cf. Col 3:14). Thus the commandment "You shall not murder" becomes a call to an attentive love which protects and promotes the life of one's neighbour. The precept prohibiting adultery becomes an invitation to a pure way of looking at others, capable of respecting the spousal meaning of the body: "You have heard that it was said to the men of old, 'You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment'. But I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment... You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery'. But I say to you that every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Mt 5:21-22, 27-28). Jesus himself is the living "fulfilment" of the Law inasmuch as he fulfils its authentic meaning by the total gift of himself: he himself becomes a living and personal Law, who invites people to follow him; through the Spirit, he gives the grace to share his own life and love and provides the strength to bear witness to that love in personal choices and actions (cf. Jn 13:34-35).

[Pope John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor, nos. 13-15]

Today the Gospel presents the well-known parable of the “Good Samaritan” (cf. Lk 10:25-37). When questioned by a doctor of the law on what is necessary to inherit eternal life, Jesus invites him to find the answer in the Scriptures, and says: “You shall love your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself” (v. 27). There were, however, different interpretations of who was intended as “neighbour”. In fact, that man also asks: “And who is my neighbour?” (v. 29). At this point, Jesus responds with the parable, this beautiful parable — I invite all of you to take up the Gospel today, the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 10, verse 25. It is one of the most beautiful parables in the Gospel. And this parable has become the paradigm of Christian life. It has become the example of how a Christian should act. Thanks to the Gospel of Luke, we have this treasure. 

The protagonist of the brief narrative is a Samaritan who, along the road encounters a man stripped and beaten by robbers, and takes care of him. We know that the Jews treated Samaritans with contempt, considering them as outsiders to the chosen people. Thus, it is no coincidence that Jesus chooses precisely a Samaritan as the positive character in the parable. In this way he seeks to overcome prejudice, by showing that even a foreigner, even one who does not know the true God and does not attend his temple, is capable of acting according to His will, showing compassion for a needy brother and helping him with all the means at his disposal.

Along that same road, before the Samaritan, a priest and a Levite had already passed — that is, people dedicated to the worship of God. However, on seeing the poor man on the ground, they continued on without stopping, probably so as not to be contaminated with his blood. They had prioritized a human rule — not to be contaminated with blood — linked to worship, over the great commandment of God who wants mercy above all. 

Jesus therefore, offers the Samaritan as an example — precisely one who did not have faith! Let us also consider the many people we know, perhaps agnostics, who do good. As a model, Jesus chooses one who was not a man of faith. And this man, by loving his brother as himself, shows that he loves God with all his heart and with all his strength — the God whom he does not know! — and at the same time expresses true religiosity and full humanity. 

After recounting this very beautiful parable, Jesus again addresses the doctor of the law who had asked Him “Who is my neighbour?”, and Jesus asks him: “Which of these three, do you think, proved neighbour to the man who fell among the robbers?” (v. 36). In this way he throws the question back to his interlocutor, and also overturns the mindset of us all. He makes us understand that based on our criteria, it is not we who define who is neighbour and who is not, but it is the person in a situation of need who must be able to recognize who is his neighbour, that is, “the one who showed mercy on him” (v. 37). Being able to have compassion: this is the key. This is our key. If you do not feel compassion before a needy person, if your heart is not moved, it means that something is not right. Be careful; let us be careful. 

Let us not allow ourselves to get carried away by egotistical insensitivity. The capacity for compassion has become the touchstone of Christians, indeed of the teachings of Jesus. Jesus himself is the Father’s compassion towards us. If you go along the street and see a homeless person lying there and pass him by without looking at him or you think: “well, it’s the effect of wine. He is a drunk”, do not ask yourself whether the man is drunk; ask yourself whether your heart has hardened, whether your heart has turned to ice. This conclusion indicates that mercy towards a human life in a state of need is the true face of love. This is how one becomes a true disciple of Jesus and the face of the Father is manifested: “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful” (Lk 6:36). And God, our Father, is merciful because he is compassionate. He is able to have this compassion, to draw near to our suffering, our sin, our vices, our miseries.

May the Virgin Mary help us to understand and above all to experience ever more the unbreakable bond between God, our Father, and concrete and generous love for our brothers and sisters, and may she give us the grace to be compassionate and to grow in compassion.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 14 July 2019]

Important Uniqueness does not let us “resume”: but it makes us Rebirth

(Mt 10:24-33)

Christ’s proposal subverts quietism and the sense of personal and social life, so his friends find themselves counter-hand.

The disciple of Truth is exposed to attacks.

There is no set orientation. But in states of discomfort, in defeat, in humiliation, a malleable energy world acts, which brings innate capacities to the surface; it activates the person to fly with its own wings.

It is a point of origin, which wherever we go we do not shake off. Because here we are ourselves; in the centre of our Mission, not homologated under conventions and accommodations.

As such, belonging to the Church is not a safe haven and shelter from every storm.

The faithful should not be astounded by the trials, sufferings, isolation, blackmail - ploys of those who use power [or established religiosity itself] for their own gain and as a weapon.

The fear of being marginalized cannot push us to hide the truth, which is a factor of recognition for us: to lose the connection and neglect to be one with it would be worse than torture.

To be honest, what makes us cowards, unfaithful, diplomatic and weak - therefore useless and irrelevant - is often much much less than a danger to life, to goods, or to our smallest freedoms.

Purposes that are too close do not unite man and the world to God. They do not confirm the rightness and conformity of the great End and Source: continuous Presence that accompanies our particular activity.

There are many «falling hairs», but each of them has an original appearance: it “is” in a special way, it has its own place and meaning.

The personal Call remains constitutive of the unrepeatable essence that opens the door to the commitment of Uniqueness.

It opens up the task of 'rebirth', in the exceptional awe of the new genesis of each person, and of the earth.

It is unprecedented essence. Grammar of our language, character of interacting in the world, and of listening to God.

The genuine Vocation - unrepeatable to the end, whatever the cost - is the only path to take to read and meet the 'genius of the age' before the problems.

Personal Atypicality fertilised by Mystery is a kind of impulse that turns crises into opportunities. Willingness-factor of recognition that accompanies and orients us in them; with the help of simplicity, for a new blossoming.

Here, even in seemingly insignificant or downright critical situations, we can perceive the energy of inner resources - left free to act and nurture all opposing situations.

By walking the paths of the unusual, we will become flexible; we will ride the waves of unexpected change.

But right there we will be totally ourselves: cosmic and divine intention, immeasurably important ones.

To internalize and live the message:

Did a persecution happen to you that - while you would have preferred other near goals - brought out the very originality of your vocational physiognomy?

[Saturday 14th wk. in O.T.  July 12, 2025]

Uniqueness

11. “Each in his or her own way” the Council says. We should not grow discouraged before examples of holiness that appear unattainable. There are some testimonies that may prove helpful and inspiring, but that we are not meant to copy, for that could even lead us astray from the one specific path that the Lord has in mind for us. The important thing is that each believer discern his or her own path, that they bring out the very best of themselves, the most personal gifts that God has placed in their hearts (cf. 1 Cor 12:7), rather than hopelessly trying to imitate something not meant for them. We are all called to be witnesses, but there are many actual ways of bearing witness. Indeed, when the great mystic, Saint John of the Cross, wrote his Spiritual Canticle, he preferred to avoid hard and fast rules for all. He explained that his verses were composed so that everyone could benefit from them “in his or her own way”. For God’s life is communicated “to some in one way and to others in another”.

[Gaudete et Exsultate]

The Mystery of Oneness: the all-important Uniqueness does not let us "resume": but it makes us be Reborn.

(Mt 10:24-33)

Christ's proposal subverts the quietism and meaning of personal and social life.

The disciple of the Truth is exposed to attack.

There is no set orientation. But in states of discomfort, in defeat, in humiliation, a malleable energy world acts, which brings out innate capacities; it activates the person to fly with his own wings.

It is a source of origin, which wherever we go, we do not shake off. Because here we are ourselves; in the centre of our Mission, not homologated under conventions and accommodations.

In this way, belonging to the Church is not a safe haven and shelter from every storm.

The faithful must not be astounded by the trials, sufferings, isolation, blackmail - ploys of those who use power [or established religiosity itself] for their own gain and as a weapon.

The fear of being marginalised cannot drive us to hide the truth, which is a factor of recognition for us: to lose the connection and neglect to be one with it would be worse than torture.

To be honest, what makes us cowardly, unfaithful, diplomatic and weak - therefore useless and irrelevant - is often much less of a danger to life, property, or our smallest freedoms.

Purposes that are too close do not unite man and the world with God. They do not confirm the rightness and conformity of the great End and Source: continuous Presence that accompanies our particular activity.

Many are the "falling hairs", but each of them has an original physiognomy: it "is" in a special way, it has its own place and meaning.

The personal Calling remains constitutive of the unrepeatable essence that opens to the commitment of Oneness.

It opens to the task of 'rebirth': in the time of the global crisis, not of 'recovery as before' - but of exceptional astonishment in the new genesis of each person, and of the earth.

It is unprecedented character, even with ourselves. Cipher of the grammar of our daily language, of interacting in the world.

And in the soul, of listening to God who reveals himself by triggering vital energies [complete because discordant]. With its unthinking healing processes, without formula.

The genuine Vocation - unrepeatable to the end, whatever the cost - is the only path to take to read and encounter the 'genius of time' before problems.

Personal Atypicality fertilised by Mystery is a kind of impulse that turns crises into opportunities.

Willingness-factor of recognition that accompanies and orients us in them; with the help of simplicity, for a new blossoming.

Here, even in seemingly insignificant or downright critical situations, we can perceive the energy of inner resources - left free to act and nurture all opposing situations.

By treading the paths of the unusual, we will become flexible; we will ride the waves of unexpected change.

But there we will be totally ourselves: cosmic and divine intention, immeasurably important.

The encyclical Fratelli Tutti rails against "a model of globalisation that consciously aims at one-dimensional uniformity and seeks to eliminate all differences and traditions in a superficial quest for unity. If globalisation claims to make everyone equal, as if it were a sphere, this globalisation destroys the distinctiveness of each person and each people. This false universalist dream ends up depriving the world of the variety of its colours, its beauty and ultimately its humanity. 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 person can make. How much our human family needs to learn to live together in harmony and peace without us all being equal!" (n.100)

It is good to rejoice in the dissimilarities that inhabit us, in the variety of contributions and points of view that each one can communicate - important: also in the view of difficulties and ways of solving them.

The mature, integral man, in the diversification and variety of knowledge, in the dissimilarity of approaches and processes, in the versatility of channels of expression, is more complete.

Today, even in a culture strongly marked by communitarian anthropology, such as that of Africa, one realises perfectly well the value of what is personal and unprecedented - even in favour of ties:

"A day will come when you too will have to share your knowledge of things and men. You will bear singular witness to a unique event revealed to you alone, in a language as yet unseen. And you will tell your brothers the unspeakable wisdom of your heart' [Irénée Guilane Dioh].A similarly African oral tradition - ceremonial and personalistic - indeed reads:

"The outward initiation is the opening of the eyes, all the teaching that is given during the traditional ceremonies or periods of retreat that follow. But this teaching one must then live it, assimilate it, make it bear fruit, adding to it one's own personal observations, one's own understanding, one's own experience'.

The scene of the spontaneous examples that Jesus draws from nature is also an echo of the conciliatory life dreamt for us by the Father.

It introduces us to the Happiness that makes one aware of existing, in all personal reality.

In fact, the Gospel passage shows the value of genuine, silent, unremarkable things, which nevertheless inhabit us - they are not 'shadows'. And we perceive them without effort or cerebral commitment.

In the time of epochal choices, of the emergency that seems to checkmate us - but wants to make us less artificial - such awareness can overturn our judgement of substance, of 'the small' and 'the great'.

Indeed, for the adventure of love there is no accounting.

'Heaven' that conquers death is in God and in reality the 'place' for each of us without lacerations.

The afterlife is not imprecise.

One does not have to distort oneself for consensus... much less for a constellated firmament.

The destiny of exceptional Uniqueness does not go to ruin: it is precious and dear, as every singularity is in nature.

Its Beauty, future and already present, must be discerned.

With immediate gain marginalised, or any social guarantee that does not concern the value of littleness - there will be no more need to identify oneself with the skeletons of established [or fashionable] thought and manners.

Nor will it matter to place oneself above and in front: rather, in the background; already rich and perfect, in the intimate sense of fullness of being.

Thus we will not have to trample on each other (cf. Lk 12:1)... even to meet Jesus.

In short:

"We are absolutely lost if we lack this particular individuality, the only thing we can truly say is ours - and whose loss is also a loss for the whole world. It is also precious because it is not universal' [Rabindranath Tagore].

Indeed, even in a relationship of deep love and coexistence "there is a need to free oneself from the obligation to be equal" (Amoris Laetitia, no.139).

To internalise and live the message:

Did a persecution happen to you that - while you would have preferred other near goals - brought out precisely the uniqueness of your vocational physiognomy?

For Jesus we are not a "mass", a "multitude"! We are individual "persons" with an eternal value, both as creatures and as re-deemed persons! He knows us! He knows me, and loves me and gave himself for me! (Gal 2:20) [John Paul II]

Uniqueness

11. “Each in his or her own way” the Council says. We should not grow discouraged before examples of holiness that appear unattainable. There are some testimonies that may prove helpful and inspiring, but that we are not meant to copy, for that could even lead us astray from the one specific path that the Lord has in mind for us. The important thing is that each believer discern his or her own path, that they bring out the very best of themselves, the most personal gifts that God has placed in their hearts (cf. 1 Cor 12:7), rather than hopelessly trying to imitate something not meant for them. We are all called to be witnesses, but there are many actual ways of bearing witness. Indeed, when the great mystic, Saint John of the Cross, wrote his Spiritual Canticle, he preferred to avoid hard and fast rules for all. He explained that his verses were composed so that everyone could benefit from them “in his or her own way”. For God’s life is communicated “to some in one way and to others in another”.

[Gaudete et Exsultate]

Tertullian's apologetic writings are above all the most famous. They manifest two key intentions: to refute the grave accusations that pagans directed against the new religion; and, more proactive and missionary, to proclaim the Gospel message in dialogue with the culture of the time.

His most famous work, Apologeticus, denounces the unjust behaviour of political authorities toward the Church; explains and defends the teachings and customs of Christians; spells out differences between the new religion and the main philosophical currents of the time; and manifests the triumph of the Spirit that counters its persecutors with the blood, suffering and patience of the martyrs: "Refined as it is", the African writes, "your cruelty serves no purpose. On the contrary, for our community, it is an invitation. We multiply every time one of us is mowed down. The blood of Christians is effective seed" (semen est sanguis christianorum!, Apologeticus, 50: 13).

Martyrdom, suffering for the truth, is in the end victorious and more efficient than the cruelty and violence of totalitarian regimes.

But Tertullian, as every good apologist, at the same time sensed the need to communicate the essence of Christianity positively. This is why he adopted the speculative method to illustrate the rational foundations of Christian dogma. He developed it in a systematic way, beginning with the description of "the God of the Christians": "He whom we adore", the Apologist wrote, "is the one, only God". And he continued, using antitheses and paradoxes characteristic of his language: "He is invisible, even if you see him, difficult to grasp, even if he is present through grace; inconceivable even if the human senses can perceive him, therefore, he is true and great!" (cf. ibid., 17: 1-2).

Furthermore, Tertullian takes an enormous step in the development of Trinitarian dogma. He has given us an appropriate way to express this great mystery in Latin by introducing the terms "one substance" and "three Persons". In a similar way, he also greatly developed the correct language to express the mystery of Christ, Son of God and true Man.

The Holy Spirit is also considered in the African's writings, demonstrating his personal and divine character.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience, 30 May 2007]