Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

Today's liturgy presents to us enlightening yet at the same time disconcerting words of Christ. 

On his last journey to Jerusalem someone asked him: "Lord, will those who are saved be few?" And Jesus answered: "Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able" (Lk 13: 23-24). 

What does this "narrow door" mean? Why do many not succeed in entering through it? Is it a way reserved for only a few of the chosen? 

Indeed, at close examination this way of reasoning by those who were conversing with Jesus is always timely: the temptation to interpret religious practice as a source of privileges or security is always lying in wait. 

Actually, Christ's message goes in exactly the opposite direction: everyone may enter life, but the door is "narrow" for all. We are not privileged. The passage to eternal life is open to all, but it is "narrow" because it is demanding: it requires commitment, self-denial and the mortification of one's selfishness. 

Once again, as on recent Sundays, the Gospel invites us to think about the future which awaits us and for which we must prepare during our earthly pilgrimage. 

Salvation, which Jesus brought with his death and Resurrection, is universal. He is the One Redeemer and invites everyone to the banquet of immortal life; but on one and the same condition: that of striving to follow and imitate him, taking up one's cross as he did, and devoting one's life to serving the brethren. This condition for entering heavenly life is consequently one and universal. 

In the Gospel, Jesus recalls further that it is not on the basis of presumed privileges that we will be judged but according to our actions. The "workers of iniquity" will find themselves shut out, whereas all who have done good and sought justice at the cost of sacrifices will be welcomed. 

Thus, it will not suffice to declare that we are "friends" of Christ, boasting of false merits: "We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets" (Lk 13: 26). 

True friendship with Jesus is expressed in the way of life: it is expressed with goodness of heart, with humility, meekness and mercy, love for justice and truth, a sincere and honest commitment to peace and reconciliation. 

We might say that this is the "identity card" that qualifies us as his real "friends"; this is the "passport" that will give us access to eternal life. 

Dear brothers and sisters, if we too want to pass through the narrow door, we must work to be little, that is, humble of heart like Jesus, like Mary his Mother and our Mother. She was the first, following her Son, to take the way of the Cross and she was taken up to Heaven in glory, an event we commemorated a few days ago. The Christian people invoke her as Ianua Caeli, Gate of Heaven. Let us ask her to guide us in our daily decisions on the road that leads to the "gate of Heaven".

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 26 August 2007]

2. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us that we are all called to salvation and to live with God, because there are no privileged people when it comes to salvation. Everyone must pass through the narrow gate of renunciation and self-giving. The prophetic reading vividly illustrates God's plan to gather all people into unity, to make them share in his glory. The reading from the New Testament urges us to endure trials as purification coming from the hands of God, 'for the Lord disciplines those he loves' (Heb 12:6; Pr 3:12). But the reasons for these readings can be said to be concentrated in the Gospel passage.

The question about the fundamental problem of existence: "Lord, are there few who are saved?" (Lk 13:23), cannot leave us indifferent. Jesus does not answer this question directly, but urges us to be serious in our intentions and choices: "Strive to enter through the narrow gate, for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able to" (Lk 13:24). The serious problem takes on a personal, moral and ascetic angle in Jesus' words. He vigorously affirms that achieving salvation requires sacrifice and struggle. To enter through that narrow gate, one must, according to the Greek text, "agonise", that is, struggle vigorously with all one's strength, without ceasing, and with firm determination. The parallel text in Matthew seems even more categorical today: "Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and many enter through it; but the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and few find it" (Mt 7:13-14).

The narrow gate is first and foremost the humble acceptance, in pure faith and serene trust, of the word of God, of his perspectives on ourselves, on the world and on history; it is the observance of the moral law, as a manifestation of God's will, in view of a higher good that fulfils our true happiness; it is the acceptance of suffering as a means of expiation and redemption for oneself and for others, and as the supreme expression of love; the narrow gate is, in a word, the acceptance of the Gospel mentality, which finds its purest expression in the Sermon on the Mount.

In short, we must follow the path traced out by Jesus and pass through the gate that is himself: " I am the door; if anyone enters through me, he will be saved' (Jn 10:9). To be saved, we must take up our cross as he did, deny ourselves in our aspirations contrary to the Gospel ideal, and follow him on his way: 'If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me' (Lk 9:23).

Dear children and brothers and sisters, it is love that saves, love that is already on earth, the inner bliss of those who, in the most varied ways, in meekness, patience, justice, suffering and tears, forget themselves and give themselves. The path may seem steep and difficult, the door may seem too narrow. As I said at the beginning, such a prospect exceeds human strength, but persevering prayer, confident supplication, and the intimate desire to do God's will will enable us to love what he commands.

[Pope John Paul II, homily at the Opera S. Paolo Castelgandolfo, 24 August 1980]

Today’s Gospel passage (cf. Lk: 13 22-30) presents Jesus teaching in towns and villages, on his way to Jerusalem where he knows he will die on the Cross for the salvation of us all. In this context, a man asks a question, who addresses him saying: “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” (v. 23). The question had been a source of debate at that time — how many will be saved, how many not ... — and there were several ways to interpret Scriptures on the issue, depending on the texts chosen. Jesus, however, reverses the question — which stresses quantity, that is: “are they few?...” — and instead places the question in the context of responsibility, inviting us to make good use of the present. Indeed, he says: “Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able” (v. 24).

With these words, Jesus makes it clear that it is not a matter of numbers, there is no “limited number” in Paradise! Rather, it is a case of taking the right way from now, and this right way is for everyone, but it is narrow. This is the problem. Jesus does not want to give us false hopes by saying: “Yes, do not worry, it is easy, there is a beautiful highway with a large gate at the end ....”. He does not say this. He tells us things as they truly are: the doorway is narrow. In what sense? In the sense that, in order to save oneself, one has to love God and neighbour, and this is uncomfortable! It is a “narrow doorway” because it is demanding. Love is always demanding. It requires commitment, indeed, “effort”, that is, a determined and persevering willingness to live according to the Gospel. Saint Paul calls it “the good fight of the faith” (1 Tim 6:12). It takes a daily, all-day effort to love God and neighbour.

And in order to explain himself better, Jesus tells a parable. There is a householder who represents the Lord. His house symbolizes eternal life, thus salvation. And here the image of the door returns. Jesus says: “When once the householder has risen up and shut the door, you will begin to stand outside and to knock at the door, saying: ‘Lord, open to us’. He will answer you, ‘I do not know where you come from’” (Lk 13: 25). These people will then attempt to claim his acquaintance, reminding the householder: “I ate and drank with you ... I listened to your advice, to your public teaching ...” (cf. 26); “I was there when you held that talk ...” . But the Lord will repeat that he does not know them and he calls them “workers of iniquity”. Here is the problem! The Lord will not recognize us for our claims — “But look, Lord, I used to belong to that association, I was friends with this monsignor, this cardinal, this priest ...”. No, claims do not count, they do not count. The Lord will recognize us only for our humble life and a good life, a life of faith that resulted in good works.

And for us Christians, this means that we are called to establish a true communion with Jesus, praying, going to Church, drawing near to the Sacraments and nourishing ourselves of his Word. This keeps us in the faith, nourishes our hope, rekindles our charity. And thus, with God’s grace, we can and must live our lives for the good of our brothers and sisters, fighting against every kind of evil and injustice.

May the Virgin Mary help us in this. She went through the narrow door that is Jesus. She welcomed him with all her heart and she followed him every day of her life, even when she did not understand, even when a sword pierced her soul. This is why we invoke her as “Mary Gate of Heaven”, a gate that traces the form of Jesus precisely: the door to God’s heart, a demanding heart, but one that is open to us all.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 25 August 2019]

Being present to oneself: do not replace love with flakes and bows

(Mt 23:1-12)

The New Relationship between God and man could not be contained within the detailed rules of the First Covenant and its heavy customs.

At the time of Jesus, such sick obsessions of snooty verticism dominated, therefore only epidermal; incapable of providing breath, freedom, propulsive motivation.

The pyramidal conception of the world and the exterior idea of ​​the plot of the spiritual life do not correspond to Revelation.

Our reality is interwoven with opposing states, which innervate and complete; even making move forward. Sometime turning into a torrent in flood.

A refusal, an abandonment, an experience of failure, limitations, illness or others’ disregard - even a crisis - can bring us back to the dormant energies of life and give birth to the new Person.

How to contact our new ways of being? What precautions should be taken to enter a regeneration dynamism that helps to develop a lively climate - and where to start?

Jesus proposes Faith: a founding Relationship, that is, a new way of placing oneself before the Father and the world... with a trusting, spousal and creative attitude; in the initiative of another point of view.

Multifaceted love, Eros coming to us in a palpable dialogue - not without inner struggles.

This in the time of a path (singular, not at all traced or external). Even on the spur of the moment, annoying, because it goes against the tide.

The religious authorities, on the other hand, sought their security in the rigorous and conspicuous observance of the written and oral Law. 

Without risk or mind-boggling customizations.

Faced with such an accommodating mentality, free from vertigo, the young Master insists on the practice of Friendship [much stronger than willpower] which relativizes the obligations.

He thus gives its true sense to the profound Tradition, rediscovering the authentic meaning of the Torah and the rules of behavior.

After all, it was precisely the spiritual leaders of the official religion who were the first to disbelieve what they preached to others... or felt exempt from it, because they were used to thinking of themselves as elective, recognised, selected, chosen models - almost cast from above.

The exaggerated spirit of control is a false attitude in itself - it causes excessive forcing, deaf to the inner core. But also deleterious for the building up of a family atmosphere, or encounter’s culture, synodal way; and so on.

By insisting, on the other hand, on the [yes, infallible] attitude of mutual service, there will no longer be time to get caught up in vanity, the dispute over priorities, discussions, and the gap between saying and doing.

Where can the theatre of unlove, which does not vitalise but depresses God's people, re-start from, instead?

From the imperishable scribes and pharisees (v.2). Self-styled superiors, with a limited and reductive yardstick.

Well, according to the Gospels, whoever assumes direct ecclesial duties has no right to any "ribbon": he’s simply a «deacon» (v.11) of the sisters and brothers.

To internalize and live the message:

Do you like ribbons? What does your soul say about peacocks?

[Saturday 20th wk. in O.T.  August 23, 2025]

Rabbi, Father and teachers? Be present to yourselves, not at the mercy of approval

(Mt 23:1-12)

The New Relationship between God and man could not be contained within the meticulous rules of the First Covenant and its heavy customs.

At the time of Jesus, such obsessions dominated, with their sickening arrogance, and were therefore only superficial, incapable of giving breath, freedom, or motivating force.

The pyramidal conception of the world and the external idea of the fabric of spiritual life never correspond to Revelation, nor to the simple criteria of natural wisdom.

In fact, the Tao Te Ching (iv) says: 'The Tao mitigates its splendour, makes itself like its dust. What depth! It seems to have always existed'.

Master Wang Pi comments: '[That which has no origin], by blunting its points, does not hurt creatures; by unravelling its knots, it does not tire them; by mitigating its light, it does not debase their bodies; by making itself like its dust, it does not disturb their authenticity'.

Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'Even though you have extraordinary splendour, you must know how to remain in darkness and gloom [...], make yourself like dirt and dust, together with the crowds: you must not differentiate yourself from them'.

Our reality is woven with contrasting states, which innervate and complete it, even making it advance. Even transforming it into a raging torrent.

Rejection, abandonment, an experience of failure, limitation, illness or lack of self-esteem - even a setback - can bring us back to the dormant energies of life and give birth to the new Person.

In this way:

How can we get in touch with our new ways of being? What steps can we take to enter into a dynamic of regeneration that helps to develop a lively atmosphere - and where do we start?

Jesus proposes Faith: a fundamental relationship, that is, a new way of standing before the Father and the world... with a trusting, spousal and creative attitude; in the initiative of another point of view.

Multifaceted love, Eros that comes to us in a palpable dialogue - not without inner struggles.

This takes place over the course of a journey (unique, not copied or external). Even on the spot, it can be annoying because it goes against the grain.

The religious authorities, on the other hand, sought their security in the strict and ostentatious observance of the written and oral Law.

Without risk, without dizzying personalisation.

Faced with this accommodating, unadventurous mentality, the young Master insists on the practice of Friendship [much stronger than voluntarism], which relativises fulfilments.

He thus gave deep Tradition its true meaning, rediscovering the authentic sense of the Torah and the rules of behaviour.

After all, it was precisely the spiritual leaders of the official religion who were the first not to believe what they preached to others... or rather, they felt exempt because they were accustomed to thinking of themselves as elected, recognised, selected, chosen models - almost as if they had been sent from above.

A recurring vice that the Risen One seems to see in the spiritual leaders of his own new people, where those in charge - while proclaiming Christ himself - began to become lovers of obsequiousness.

Just like the ancient professionals of religion, who pushed for conformism, legalism and moralism; accustomed to showing off, dictating judgement, and conditioning the very course of the Law.

Then, as skilled specialists, they always found any excuse to say and not do - and pass themselves off as 'impeccable believers':

'They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger' (v. 4).

Even today, true experts in communication always act in public, to be acclaimed.

But in their conduct they have no intimate, determining and rooted principle, remaining prey to situations; light as butterflies.

Driven by ambition, they are all show and vanity - even for the self-love aroused by the social influence they willingly desire and exercise.

A spirit of elitism and empty exaltation that Matthew notes winding its way even among his veterans of the community in Galilee and Syria.

Small assemblies were then besieged by an influx of pagans, from whom the Judaizing elders demanded hierarchical respect above all else.

Hypocritically dethroning Christ and the Father, these veterans of ancient religiosity also aspired to be called rabbis, fathers, preceptors (vv. 7-10). 

Self-proclaimed superiors, with limited and reductive standards of judgement.

In terms of the experience of faith, the Lord commands us instead to be all brothers and sisters - that is, equals - in the certainty of one Father.

This also applies to us, especially in this time of rebirth from the global crisis.

In Deus Caritas est (n. 35):

"This right way of serving makes the servant humble. He does not assume a position of superiority over others, however poor their situation may be at the moment. Christ took the last place in the world — the cross — and it is precisely through this radical humility that he redeemed us and constantly helps us. Those who are in a position to help recognise that it is precisely in this way that they themselves are helped; it is not their merit or a source of pride that they are able to help. This task is a grace. The more one works for others, the more one will understand and make one's own the words of Christ: "We are useless servants" (Lk 17:10). For one recognises that one is acting not on the basis of personal superiority or greater efficiency, but because the Lord has given one this gift. At times, excessive need and the limits of one's own work may expose one to the temptation of discouragement. But then he will be helped by the knowledge that, ultimately, he is only an instrument in the Lord's hands; he will thus be freed from the presumption of having to achieve, on his own and by himself, the necessary improvement of the world. In humility, he will do what he can and in humility he will entrust the rest to the Lord. It is God who rules the world, not us. We serve him only as we can and as long as he gives us the strength to do so. However, doing what we can with the strength we have is the task that keeps the good servant of Jesus Christ always on the move: 'The love of Christ impels us' (2 Cor 5:14).

How much we need a bath of humility in the soul of everyone who wants to be present in their actions!

We can start, for example, by avoiding using devotion and the Church as means of promotion, to appear important and emphasise some 'spiritual' rank higher than others.

This attitude is false in itself - it causes excessive forcing, deaf to the inner core. But it is also detrimental to the building of a family atmosphere, or a culture of encounter, a synodal journey, and so on.

On the contrary, by insisting on the attitude [which is indeed infallible] of mutual service, there will be no more time to be caught up in vanity, disputes over precedence, arguments, or the gap between words and deeds.

Where can the theatre of disaffection, which depresses rather than invigorates the people of God, start again?

From the everlasting scribes and Pharisees (v. 2), who are always exaggerated in their spirit of control.

Well, according to the Gospels, those who take on leadership roles in the Church are not entitled to any 'ribbons': they are simply 'deacons' (v. 11) of their brothers and sisters.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you like ribbons? What does your soul say about peacocks?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In this Sunday’s Liturgy, the Apostle Paul invites us to draw near to the Gospel “not as the word of men but as what it really is, the word of God” (1 Thess 2:13). Thus we can accept with faith the warning that Jesus offers to our conscience, in order to conform our way of living to it. In today’s passage he rebukes the scribes and the Pharisees, who were the teachers of the community, because their own conduct was openly in conflict with the teaching they rigorously taught others. Jesus underlines that they “preach, but do not practise” (Mt 23:3); rather “they bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger” (Mt 23:4). Good teaching must be received but it risks being contradicted by inconsistent behaviour. Thus Jesus says: “practise and observe whatever they tell you, but not what they do” (Mt 23:3). Jesus’ attitude is exactly the opposite: he is the first to practise the commandment of love, which he teaches to everyone, and he can say the burden is light and easy because he helps us carry it (cf. Mt 11:29-30). 

Thinking of teachers who oppress the freedom of others in the name of authority, St Bonaventure points out who the authentic teacher is, affirming that, “No one can teach or practise, or reach knowable truths unless the Son of God is present” (Sermo I de Tempore, Dom. XXII post Pentecosten, Opera omnia, IX, Quaracchi, 1901, 442). “Jesus sits on the cathedra of Moses... as the greater Moses, who broadens the Covenant to include all nations” (cf. Jesus of Nazareth, Doubleday, New York, 2007, p. 66). He is our true and only Teacher! We are, therefore, called to follow the Son of God, the Word Incarnate, who expresses the truth of his teaching through his faithfulness to the will of the Father, through the gift of himself. Bl. Antonio Rosmini writes: “The first teacher trains all the other teachers, as he also trains the same disciples themselves, because they exist only in virtue of that first tacit, but very powerful Magisterium” (Idea della Sapienza, 82, in: Introduzione alla filosofia, vol. II, Rome, 1934, 143). Jesus also firmly condemns vanity and observes that “deeds to be seen by men” (Mt 23:5), places them at the mercy of human approval, undermining the values that found the authenticity of the person. 

Dear friends, the Lord Jesus presented himself to the world as a servant, completely stripping himself and lowering himself to give on the Cross the most eloquent lesson of humility and love. His example gives rise to a proposal of life: “He who is greatest among you shall be your servant” (Mt 23:11). We invoke the intercession of Mary Most Holy and we ask especially for those in Christian communities, who are called to the ministry of teaching, that they may always witness by their works to the truths that they communicate by their words.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 30 October 2011]

1. With my gaze turned to the Shroud, I would like to extend a cordial greeting to you all, the faithful of the Church of Turin. I greet the pilgrims who have come from every part of the world at the time of this public exposition to look at one of the most unsettling signs of the Redeemer's suffering love. 

As I entered the cathedral, which still shows the scars of last year's terrible fire, I paused in adoration before the Eucharist, the sacrament which is the focus of the Church's attention and, under humble appearances, contains the true, real and substantial presence of Christ. In the light of Christ's presence in our midst, I then stopped before the Shroud, the precious Linen that can help us better to understand the mystery of the love of God's Son for us. Before the Shroud, the intense and agonizing image of an unspeakable torment, I wish to thank the Lord for this unique gift, which asks for the believer's loving attention and complete willingness to follow the Lord.

3. For the believer, what counts above all is that the Shroud is a mirror of the Gospel. In fact, if we reflect on the sacred Linen, we cannot escape the idea that the image it presents has such a profound relationship with what the Gospels tell of Jesus' passion and death, that every sensitive person feels inwardly touched and moved at beholding it. Whoever approaches it is also aware that the Shroud does not hold people's hearts to itself, but turns them to him, at whose service the Father's loving providence has put it. Therefore, it is right to foster an awareness of the precious value of this image, which everyone sees and no one at present can explain. For every thoughtful person it is a reason for deep reflection, which can even involve one's life. The Shroud is thus a truly unique sign that points to Jesus, the true Word of the Father, and invites us to pattern our lives on the life of the One who gave himself for us.

7. The Shroud is an image of silence. There is a tragic silence of incommunicability, which finds its greatest expression in death, and there is the silence of fruitfulness, which belongs to whoever refrains from being heard outwardly in order to delve to the roots of truth and life. The Shroud expresses not only the silence of death but also the courageous and fruitful silence of triumph over the transitory, through total immersion in God's eternal present. It thus offers a moving confirmation of the fact that the merciful omnipotence of our God is not restrained by any power of evil, but knows instead how to make the very power of evil contribute to good. Our age needs to rediscover the fruitfulness of silence, in order to overcome the dissipation of sounds, images and chatter that too often prevent the voice of God from being heard.

[Pope John Paul II, veneration of the Shroud, Turin, 24 May 1998]

Today’s Gospel passage (cf. Mt 23:1-12) is set in the final days of Jesus’ life, in Jerusalem; days filled with expectations and also tension. On the one hand, Jesus directs harsh criticism at the scribes and Pharisees, and on the other, he entrusts important mandates to Christians of all times, thus also to us.

He says to the crowd: “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; so practice and observe whatever they tell you”. Meaning that they have the authority to teach what is in conformity with the Law of God. However, immediately after, Jesus adds: “but do not do ‘what they do; for they preach, but do not practice’” (vv. 2-3). Brothers and sisters, a frequent flaw of those in authority, whether civil or ecclesiastic authority, is that of demanding of others things — even righteous things — that they do not, however, put into practise in the first person. They live a double life. Jesus says: “They bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger (v. 4). This attitude sets a bad example of authority, which should instead derive its primary strength precisely from setting a good example. Authority arises from a good example, so as to help others to practise what is right and proper, sustaining them in the trials that they meet on the right path. Authority is a help, but if it is wrongly exercised, it becomes oppressive; it does not allow people to grow, and creates a climate of distrust and hostility, and also leads to corruption.

Jesus openly denounces some of the negative conduct of the scribes and of some Pharisees: “they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues, and salutations in the market places” (vv. 6-7). This is a temptation that corresponds to human pride and that is not always easy to overcome. It is the attitude of living only for appearances.

Then Jesus entrusts the mandates to his disciples: “you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren. [...] Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ. He who is greatest among you shall be your servant” (vv. 8-11).

We disciples of Jesus must not seek titles of honour, of authority or supremacy. I tell you, it pains me personally to see people who, psychologically, live in pursuit of vain accolades. We disciples of Jesus must not do this, because among ourselves there must be a simple and fraternal attitude. We are all brothers and sisters and in no way must we abuse others or look down on them. No. We are all brothers and sisters. If we have received talents from the heavenly Father, we must place them at the service of our brothers and sisters, and not exploit them for our own satisfaction and personal interests. We must not consider ourselves superior to others; modesty is essential for an existence that seeks to conform to the teaching of Jesus, who is meek and humble of heart and came not to be served but to serve. 

May the Virgin Mary, “humble and exalted more than any creature” (Dante,  Paradiso, xxxiii:2), help us, with her motherly intercession, to spurn pride and vanity, and to be meek and docile to the love that comes from God, for the service of our brothers and sisters and for their joy, which will also be our own.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 5 November 2017]

XX Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [17 August 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Here is the commentary on next Sunday's biblical texts.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah (38:4-6, 8-10)

 The name Jeremiah gave rise to the term 'jeremiad'. But it would be a mistake to think that this prophet spent his time complaining and feeling sorry for himself. It is true, however, that he was often led to cry out for mercy under the weight of his trials. And God knows how many he experienced! So much so that the proverb 'No one is a prophet in his own country' applies particularly to him. At times, expressions of utter discouragement emerge from his pen (cf. Jer 15:10, 18; 20:14). Faced with the repeated failures of his mission and the evils of which he is a victim, Jeremiah asks himself disturbing questions, even going so far as to call God to account, whose conduct seems surprising, if not downright unjust: "You are righteous, Lord! But I want to argue with you. Why do the wicked prosper? Why are all the treacherous at ease?" (Jer 12:1-2). Reading the book of Jeremiah, we realise that he had good reasons to ask these questions and complain: chapter after chapter, the plots of his adversaries emerge, along with their deceit and threats, which are then cruelly carried out (cf. Jer 20:10; 18:18; 11:21; 12:6). In the passage proposed by the liturgy this Sunday, we are faced with one of his many misfortunes, a typical episode of his life in which all the arguments and wickedness of his adversaries appear: "Kill Jeremiah, for he is discouraging the warriors who are left in this city and discouraging the people by speaking to them like this, for this man is not seeking the welfare of the people, but their harm" (v. 4). They took him and threw him into the cistern of Prince Melchiah, where there was no water but mud, and he sank into the mud, so that the persecution he suffered could not be described more realistically. However, God did not abandon his prophet, but kept the promise he made on the day of his calling, to sustain him against all adversity, and it was truly a covenant between God and him (Jer 1:4-5, 17-19); in fact, on a day when he was particularly discouraged, God renewed his mission and his promise (Jer 15:21), and now the instrument of liberation will be a foreigner, an Ethiopian named Ebed-Melech. This is not the first time that the Bible presents us with foreigners who are more respectful of God and his prophets than the chosen people. This Ethiopian has the courage to intervene with the king, who grants permission to save Jeremiah. When Jesus later tells the parable of the Good Samaritan, he may have been thinking of this Ethiopian who saved the prophet, because there are many similarities between the Good Samaritan and the Ethiopian. In the rest of the story, verses not included in the liturgical text, many details emerge about the sensitivity of the pagan who saves the prophet, taking every precaution not to hurt him during the ascent (28:11-13). Why is no one a prophet in his own country? This is a recurring question: it probably happens because the proclamation of God's love for humanity requires us to love one another, and when we live together, it is easier to see the negative than the positive: 'No one is great in the eyes of his neighbour'. Job's complaints (in chapter 3) are similar to those of Jeremiah, and it is thought that the author of the Book of Job was inspired by the lamentations of Jeremiah, considered the quintessential example of the persecuted righteous man.

Responsorial Psalm (39/40:2,3,4,18)

"I waited patiently for the Lord, and he turned to me." The psalm speaks in the first person singular, but in reality it is the people of Israel who sing their gratitude because they have gone through terrible trials and God has delivered them. This psalm is therefore a psalm of thanksgiving, composed to be sung in the Temple at the time of the offering of a sacrifice of thanksgiving, animal sacrifices celebrated until the final destruction of the Temple in 70 AD. The whole people bursts with joy on their return from Babylonian exile, as after the crossing of the Red Sea. Exile was like a deadly fall into a bottomless pit, an abyss from which it seemed impossible to rise, and the psalm speaks of the 'terror of the abyss'. During that long period of trial, the people, supported by priests and prophets, maintained their hope and strength to call for help: 'You are my help and my deliverer: my God, do not delay! (v. 18) and God saved them: 'The Lord... has heard my cry' (v. 2). On their return, the people seem resurrected and give thanks: 'He has put a new song in my mouth... Many will see and fear and trust in the Lord... But I am poor and needy: the Lord cares for me" (vv. 4, 18). Before the exile, Israel lived in security, but the prophets had failed to awaken it from its indifference. During the exile, it meditated on the causes of the disaster, wondering if the cause was not its own superficiality. This psalm sounds like a warning for the future, or rather a resolution because, in order not to fall back into the same error, Israel must live faithfully according to the Covenant. In this spirit, the psalm develops a reflection on what truly pleases God: "You do not desire sacrifices or offerings... You have not asked for burnt offerings or sacrifices for sin. Then I said, 'Here I am, I come'. (vv. 7, 8, 9). To express the experience of returning to the promised land as a return to life, the psalmist uses the parable of a man thrown into a pit by his enemies, perhaps inspired by the experience of the prophet Jeremiah, whose misadventures are recounted in the first reading: thrown into a pit, he is freed by Ebed-Melek, a foreigner. Jeremiah knew that behind that man's surprising generosity was God himself: "He has brought me up out of a pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock and established my goings" (v. 3). Freed, he bursts with joy: "He has put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and trust in the Lord" (v. 4). Those who have been saved sing God's praise, and others, seeing that God saves, will want to turn to Him. The psalm does not stop there, because the final verse proclaims: "You are my help and my deliverer: my God, do not delay!" (v. 18). Since humanity has not yet reached the full fulfilment of God's plan, the psalmist suggests two attitudes of prayer: praise for the salvation that has already taken place, so that others may open themselves to the saving God; supplication for the salvation we still await, so that the Spirit may inspire us to take the necessary action. It is not we who save the world, as the psalm says: "He has put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and trust in the Lord" (v. 4). God will always find a small remnant to save. Amos says: "The God of hosts will have mercy on the remnant of Joseph" (5:15); Isaiah also repeats similar things, which are then elaborated on by Micah, Zephaniah and Zechariah, who announce that the "remnant" of Israel will not only be saved, but will become an instrument of salvation for all others. God will use them to save all humanity, as Micah says: "The remnant of Jacob will be, among many peoples, like dew from the Lord" (5:6).

Second Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (12:1-4)

The author of the Letter addresses words of encouragement to persecuted Christians. He devoted chapter 11 to presenting the great models of faith in the Old Testament, and last Sunday we spoke about Abraham and Sarah. Here, at the beginning of chapter 12, he states that all believers in the Old Testament are like a "cloud of witnesses" surrounding us: a cloud of protectors. The author is not content with recommending that Christians imitate the trust and constancy of the great figures of the past, but invites them to "keep their eyes fixed on Jesus," the ever-present witness, the one who said, "I am with you always, until the end of the age" (Mt 28:20), the origin of faith and its fulfilment. A more literal translation would be: Jesus is the 'pioneer of faith', and the Greek term used, ἀρχηγός archēgós, translated as 'pioneer', indicates leader, commander, pioneer, initiator, founder, the one who opens the way and leads forward, a perfect guide who can be trusted because he leads to full fulfilment. In fact, he himself underwent the test of perseverance, in which Christians are now also engaged. His test was much harder: coming as the Bridegroom, for the joy of a wedding feast, he had said of himself that one cannot make the guests fast while the bridegroom is with them (cf. Mk 2:19), but the Bridegroom was not recognised and, renouncing the joy that was set before him, he endured the cross, despising the shame of that punishment. St. Paul says it in another way when he writes to the Philippians: "Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave... he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross" (Phil 2:6-8). Such a contrast is unimaginable: having come to save humanity from sin, Christ was dramatically rejected and killed because of the sins of men: "Consider carefully the one who has endured such hostility from sinners" (v. 3). Both the Letter to the Hebrews and the Letter to the Philippians emphasise that Jesus is our model and support not because of the quantity of his sufferings, but because of his "obedience" unto death, even death on a cross, as Paul writes, while in the Letter to the Hebrews we read that although he was a Son, he learned obedience from the things he suffered (cf. 5:8). To obey – from the Latin ob-audire – literally means 'to place one's ear before the Word', which is the attitude of absolute trust. Jesus, in the most extreme situation, maintains total trust in the Father, who is always present and attentive to his beloved Son, sharing his suffering and anguish: 'He remains faithful, because he cannot deny himself' (2 Tim 2:13). This is followed by the triumph of God's love, and Christ sits at the right hand of God, reigning with him. This same triumph is promised to those who endure persecution like Christ. The author does not hesitate to use the word "struggle" to describe this courage: the Christians to whom he writes visibly risk their lives to remain faithful to Jesus, who had warned them: "You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death... But by your perseverance you will save your lives" (Lk 21:12-19). Throughout the world, some Christians are directly affected by this fate because they are experiencing open or hidden persecution. We, who at least for the moment do not know direct persecution, are asked to be witnesses by speaking courageously about God and defending his truth.

From the Gospel according to Luke (12:49-53)

Jesus compares his mission to a fire: "I have come to set the earth on fire, and how I wish it were already burning!" From the fire of Pentecost, this proclamation spread like a flame: among the Jewish people it appeared as the destroyer of the entire religious edifice, in the pagan world it was considered a contagious madness. St Paul writes to the Corinthians: "We preach a crucified Messiah, a scandal to Jews and foolishness to pagans." (1 Cor 1:23). This fire leaves indelible traces: those who allow themselves to be burned by the Gospel and those who reject it become irreconcilable enemies, even if they are united by family ties, thus fulfilling what the prophet Micah described with desolation in his time of anguish: "The son insults his father, the daughter rebels against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; each person's enemies are their own family members." (Mi 7:6). When Jesus announces these divisions, it is not a mere premonition: he speaks from experience, as happened in Nazareth where, after an initial enthusiasm, his childhood friends and family turned against him because he had just said that his mission went beyond the borders of Israel (Lk 4:28-29). And this is not the only time that Jesus encounters misunderstanding, even opposition from his own people: St John writes that not even his brothers believed in him (cf. Jn 7:5). Moreover, Jesus does not hesitate to tell his disciples that one of the conditions for proclaiming the Kingdom of God is to accept possible painful separations. For if one wants to follow him but does not love him more than one's dearest ones and even more than one's own life, one will never become his disciple (cf. Lk 14:26). The fire he has kindled leads to radical choices. Israel was waiting for a Messiah who would bring peace to the world, as the prophecies of Isaiah (Isaiah 2:11) were well known, but Jesus instead announces divisions: "Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but division." Jesus' peace requires a radical conversion of the heart, but many will oppose this conversion with all their strength. His proclamation of peace will meet with the favour of some, but the opposition of many: having come among us to proclaim love and salvation, he suffered and died, as he himself had foretold: "The Son of Man must suffer greatly, be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, be killed and rise on the third day." (Lk 9:22). And again: he will be handed over to the pagans, mocked, insulted, spat upon, scourged and killed, but he will rise on the third day (cf. Lk 18:32). His resurrection gives us courage: enlivened by his Spirit poured out upon us, we are not afraid to set the world on fire with the fire of his charity.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole