(Mt 8:23-27)

Our adventure proceeds like on a boat tossed by seisms. We go hopeful, but sometimes adversities threaten drowning us, and with us seem to drag down all life.

Using paraphrases from the book of Exodus, Mt tries to help his communities understand the Mystery of the Person of Jesus.

Not a few converted Jews considered Christ a character all in line with their mentality and tradition, in agreement with prophecies and figures of the First Testament.

Elsewhere, some pagans who had accepted the Lord advocated an understanding with the worldly mentality - a kind of agreement between Jesus and the Empire.

But Who could appease the storms?

The situation of the tiny Christian families of Galilee and Syria was still dark. Christ seemed not entirely present, and the sea rough, the wind against.

Could the Exodus be re-created?

Precisely in the condition of tossed pilgrims, in approaching his Person,  a strange and different stability was experienced: the against the current enduring.

A crossing towards freedom that came from clinging to Jesus alone, in the chaos of security. For a discordant permanence.

As the disciples caressed nationalist desires, the Master began to make it clear that He’s not the vulgarly awaited Messiah, restorer of the late empire of David or the Caesars.

The Kingdom of God is open to all humanity, which in those times of upheaval sought security, acceptance, points of reference. Everyone could find home and shelter there (Mt 13:32c; Mk 4:32b).

But the apostles and church veterans seemed averse to Christ’s proposal; they remained insensitive to an overly broad idea of fraternity - which was crowding them out.

The teaching and call imposed on the disciples is that of passing to the other shore (cf. Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22), that is, not to hold God’s treasures in favour of themselves.

The Apostles have the task of communicating the Father’s riches even to the pagans, considered impure and infamous.

Yet it were precisely the intimates of the Master who didn’t want to know about risky disproportions, which would actually the wide-meshed action of the Son of God bring out.

They were willingly calibrated to habits of common religiosity, and an (circumscribed) ideology of power.

Already in the 70s, resistance to divine proposal as well as the tearing internal debate that had ensued from it, had unleashed a great storm in the assemblies of believers.

«And behold, there came a great agitation into the sea, so that the boat was covered by the waves» (Mt 8:24).

The storm were concerning the disciples, the only dismayed; not Jesus: «but He was asleep» (v.24c) [it’s the Risen Lord].

What happened "inside" the little boat of the Church was not the simple reflection of what happened "outside"! This is the mistake to be corrected.

Emotionally relevant situations make sense, carry a meaningful appeal, introduce a different introspection, the decisive change; a new 'genesis'.

Trial in fact activates souls in the most effective way, because it disengages us from the idea of stability, and brings us into contact with dormant energies, initiating the new dialogue with events.

In Him, we are therefore imbued with a different vision of danger.

[Tuesday 13th wk. in O.T.  July 1st, 2025]

(Mt 8:23-27)

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" - with these and similar words the Church's liturgy repeatedly prays [...].

These invocations were probably formulated in the period of the decline of the Roman Empire. The disintegration of the supporting orders of law and of the basic moral attitudes, which gave them strength, caused the breaking of the banks that had hitherto protected peaceful coexistence between men. A world was passing away. Frequent natural cataclysms further increased this experience of insecurity. No force could be seen to halt this decline. All the more insistent was the invocation of God's own power: that He would come and protect men from all these threats.

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni". Today, too, we have many reasons to associate ourselves with this prayer [...] The world with all its new hopes and possibilities is, at the same time, distressed by the impression that the moral consensus is dissolving, a consensus without which legal and political structures do not function; consequently, the forces mobilised to defend these structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita - the prayer is reminiscent of the cry addressed to the Lord, who was sleeping in the disciples' storm-tossed boat that was close to sinking. When His powerful word had calmed the storm, He rebuked the disciples for their little faith (cf. Mt 8:26 and par.). He wanted to say: in yourselves faith has slept. He also wants to say the same thing to us. Even in us so often faith sleeps. Let us therefore pray to Him to awaken us from the sleep of a faith that has become weary and to restore to faith the power to move mountains - that is, to give right order to the things of the world.

[Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia 20 December 2010].

Our life proceeds as on a small boat tossed about by earthquakes. We go hopeful, but sometimes adversity threatens to drown us, and with us it seems to drag our whole life down.

Episodes that nevertheless make us realise how much Christ's friendship is worth to us and what it conveys to us.

For we experience that only the Lord overcomes the fear of upheavals.

But he does so without rushing, and without any set patterns that would frame him forever (it would be like making him perish).

If we welcome Him in a simple and forthright manner, we realise that there is another realm, that every element is in His power.

On such a wave that has become vital, everything will serve to reactivate us - even the headwind and the pitfalls of evil.

The Invisible Friend guides and fulfils us infallibly. And he brings us to Riva. Landing that is the ultimate condition.

Dry land that the force of the waves cannot affect, even when we have the feeling of being swept away by the waves.

Using paraphrases from the book of Exodus, Mt tries to help his communities understand the Mystery of the Person of Jesus.

Not a few Jewish converts considered Christ to be a person in line with their mentality and tradition, in agreement with First Testament prophecies and figures.

Elsewhere, some pagans who had accepted the Lord advocated an understanding with the worldly mentality - a kind of agreement between Jesus and the Empire.

But who could calm the storms?

The situation of the tiny Christian families in Galilee and Syria was still dark. Christ seemed not quite present, and the sea was rough, the wind contrary.

Could the Exodus be re-created?

Faith in Him was shaken, not relaxed. The disciples did not possess the Master's same calm trust in the Father.

And yet, in the very condition of shaken pilgrims, in approaching His Person they experienced a strange and different stability: the perseverance against the tide.

A crossing towards freedom that came from clinging to Jesus alone, in the chaos of security. A discordant permanence.

Even today, it is the unaccustomed and critical path of growth that reveals Him capable of manifesting His quiet strength, restoring the disrupted elements to calm.

The direction of travel imposed by Jesus on His disciples seems to go against the grain, and brazenly breaks the rules accepted by all.

While the disciples fondle nationalist desires, the Master begins to make it clear that He is not the vulgarly expected Messiah, restorer of the defunct empire of David or the Caesars.

The Kingdom of God is open to all mankind, who in those turbulent times sought security, acceptance, points of reference. Everyone could find home and shelter there (Mt 13:32c; Mk 4:32b).

But the apostles and church veterans seemed averse to Christ's proposals; they remained insensitive to an overly broad idea of fraternity - which displaced them. This is still a live and very serious problem.

The teaching and call imposed on the disciples is to cross to the other shore (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22), that is, not to keep to oneself.

The Apostles have the task of communicating the riches of the Father to the pagans, who are considered impure and infamous.

Yet it was precisely the Master's intimates who did not want to know about risky disproportions that would actually make the Son of God's wide-ranging action stand out.

They were willingly tarred by common religiosity, and a circumscribed ideology of power.

The resistance to the divine commission, and the resulting lacerating internal debate, had already stirred up a great storm in the assemblies of believers in the 1970s.

"And behold, there came great turmoil in the sea, so that the boat was covered with waves" (Matthew 8:24).

The storm concerned the disciples alone, the only ones who were dismayed; not Jesus: "but he was asleep" (v.24c) [this is about the Risen One].

What was happening "inside" the little boat of the Church was not a mere reflection of what was happening "outside"! This is the error to be corrected.

For us too, such identification can block and make life chronic, precisely from the handling of emotionally relevant situations - which have their own meaning.

They always carry a meaningful appeal, introduce a different eye, introspection, dialogue.

In short, from the peace of the divine condition that dominates chaos, the Lord calls attention to and rebukes the apostles, accusing them of lacking Faith.

Though devout, they lack an ounce of risk. They lack love - like a mustard seed (v.26) - to bring to humanity to renew it.

And are we believers still confused, embarrassed? Is the chaos of patterns still raging - not excluding selfishness, which inexorably peeps out?

We paradoxically go the way of the Exodus, of the experience of the first; right 'knowledge', because it is direct. The only caveat: we must not be taken in by fear.

In Him, we are imbued with a different vision of danger.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxii): "The saint does not see by himself, therefore he is enlightened". Even in straits.

At all times it seems that Jesus expressly wanted the dark moments of confrontation and doubt for the apostles (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22b). First and foremost, it will be some church leaders who will be called upon to cleanse themselves of repetitive convictions. Only in this way will their proclamation not remain misplaced.

For textbook expectations (and the habit of setting up conformist harmonies) block the flowering of what we are and hope for.

Especially what is annoying or even 'against' has something decisive to tell us.

Even in the boat of the assemblies [cf. Mk 4:36] discomfort must express itself.

"And they drew near and awoke him, saying, Lord, save us, we are lost!" (v.25).

The peril is an opportunity to revive the essence of each person and of the community itself.

The trial introduces change (hidden or repressed) and activates it in the most effective way.

Novelty comes from natural contact with hidden, primordial energies.

More than opposing frictions and conflicting external events, anxiety, impression, anguish, arise from the very fear of facing the normal or decisive questions of existence.

This can happen out of distrust: feeling the danger perhaps only because we perceive ourselves to be intimately undeveloped, and incapable of other conversation; of discovering and reworking, converting, or remodelling.

The fatigue of questioning ourselves and the suffering that the adventure of Faith holds, will also fade amidst the discomfort of the rough sea - which precisely does not want us to return to 'those of before'.

It is enough to disengage from the idea of stability, even religious stability, and listen to life as it is, embracing it.

Even in its throng of bumps, bitterness, shattered hopes for harmony, sorrows - engaging with this flood of new emergencies, and encountering one's own deep nature.

The best vaccine against the anxieties of adventuring together with Christ on the changing waves of the unexpected. will be precisely not to avoid worries upstream - on the contrary, to go towards them and welcome them; to recognise them, to let them happen.

Even in times of global crisis, the apprehensions that seem to want to devastate us, come to us as preparatory energies of other joys that wish to break through. New cosmic attunements; for wonderment from within ourselves - and guidance from beyond.

Our little boat is in an inverted, inverted, unequal stability; uncertain, unseemly - yet energetic, prickly, capable of reinventing itself.

And it may even be excessive, but it is disruptive.

For a proposal of Tenderness (not corresponding) that is not a relaxation zone, because it rhymes with terrible anxiety and... still unfulfilled suburbs!

To internalise and live the message:

On what occasions have you found easy what before seemed impossible? Do you ever raise your voice to Jesus? By what Name did He reveal Himself to you? By what title would you call Him? Have you crossed waters you did not foresee in your plans and intentions? Who has calmed your storms? How do you experience harmony?Some other providence, which you ignore

"It is good not to fall, or to fall and rise again. And if you happen to fall, it is good not to despair and not to become estranged from the love the Sovereign has for man. For if he wills, he can do mercy to our weakness. Only let us not turn away from him, let us not be distressed if we are forced by the commandments, and let us not be disheartened if we come to nothing (...).

Let us neither hurry nor retreat, but always begin again (...).

Wait for him, and he will show you mercy, either by conversion or by trials, or by some other providence that you do not know."

[Peter Damascene, Second Book, Eighth Discourse, in La Filocalia, Turin 1982, I,94]

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni. Repeatedly during the season of Advent the Church’s liturgy prays in these or similar words. They are invocations that were probably formulated as the Roman Empire was in decline. The disintegration of the key principles of law and of the fundamental moral attitudes underpinning them burst open the dams which until that time had protected peaceful coexistence among peoples. The sun was setting over an entire world. Frequent natural disasters further increased this sense of insecurity. There was no power in sight that could put a stop to this decline. All the more insistent, then, was the invocation of the power of God: the plea that he might come and protect his people from all these threats.

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni. Today too, we have many reasons to associate ourselves with this Advent prayer of the Church. For all its new hopes and possibilities, our world is at the same time troubled by the sense that moral consensus is collapsing, consensus without which juridical and political structures cannot function. Consequently the forces mobilized for the defence of such structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita – the prayer recalls the cry addressed to the Lord who was sleeping in the disciples’ storm-tossed boat as it was close to sinking. When his powerful word had calmed the storm, he rebuked the disciples for their little faith (cf. Mt 8:26 et par.). He wanted to say: it was your faith that was sleeping. He will say the same thing to us. Our faith too is often asleep. Let us ask him, then, to wake us from the sleep of a faith grown tired, and to restore to that faith the power to move mountains – that is, to order justly the affairs of the world.

[Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia 20 December 2010]

The storm calmed on the Lake of Genesaret can be reread as a "sign" of Christ's constant presence in the "boat" of the Church, which many times throughout history is exposed to the fury of the winds during stormy hours. Jesus, awakened by the disciples, commands the winds and the sea to be becalmed. Then he says to them, "Why are you so fearful? Have you no faith yet?" (Mk 4:40). In this, as in other episodes, one can see Jesus' desire to inculcate in the apostles and disciples faith in his operative and protective presence even in the most stormy hours of history, in which doubt about his divine assistance could infiltrate the spirit. In fact, in Christian homiletics and spirituality, the miracle has often been interpreted as a 'sign' of Jesus' presence and a guarantee of trust in him on the part of Christians and the Church.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 2 December 1987]

Today’s liturgy tells the episode of the storm calmed by Jesus (Mk 4:35-41). The boat in which the disciples are crossing the lake is beaten by the wind and the waves and they fear they will sink. Jesus is with them on the boat, yet he is in the stern asleep on the cushion. Filled with fear, the disciples cry out to him: “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?” (v. 38).

And quite often we too, beaten by the trials of life, have cried out to the Lord: “Why do you remain silent and do nothing for me?”. Especially when it seems we are sinking, because love or the project in which we had laid great hopes disappears; or when we are at the mercy of unrelenting waves of anxiety; or when we feel we are drowning in problems or lost amid the sea of life, with no course and no harbour. Or even, in moments in which the strength to go forward fails us, because we have no job, or an unexpected diagnosis makes us fear for our health or that of a loved one. There are many moments when we feel we are in a storm; when we feel we are almost done in.

In these situations and in many others, we too feel suffocated by fear and, like the disciples, risk losing sight of the most important thing. In the boat, in fact, even if he is sleeping, Jesus is there, and he shares with his own all that is happening. If on the one hand his slumber surprises us, on the other, it puts us to the test. The Lord is there, present; indeed, he waits — so to speak — for us to engage him, to invoke him, to put him at the centre of what we are experiencing. His slumber causes us to wake up. Because to be disciples of Jesus, it is not enough to believe God is there, that he exists, but we must put ourselves out there with him; we must also raise our voice with him. Hear this: we must cry out to him. Prayer is often a cry: “Lord, save me!”. I was watching, on the programme “In his Image”, today, the Day of Refugees, many who come in large boats and at the moment of drowning cry out: “Save us!”. In our life too the same thing happens: “Lord, save us!”, and prayer becomes a cry.

Today we can ask ourselves: what are the winds that beat against my life? What are the waves that hinder my navigation, and put my spiritual life, my family life, even my psychological life in danger? Let us say all this to Jesus; let us tell him everything. He wants this; he wants us to grab hold of him to find shelter from the unexpected waves in life. The Gospel recounts that the disciples approach Jesus, wake him and speak to him (cf. v. 38). This is the beginning of our faith: to recognize that alone we are unable to stay afloat; that we need Jesus like sailors need the stars to find their course. Faith begins from believing that we are not enough for ourselves, from feeling in need of God. When we overcome the temptation to close ourselves off, when we overcome the false religiosity that does not want to disturb God, when we cry out to him, he can work wonders in us. It is the gentle and extraordinary power of prayer, which works miracles.

Jesus, begged by the disciples, calms the wind and waves. And he asks them a question, a question which also pertains to us: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” (v. 40). The disciples were gripped with fear, because they were focused on the waves more than on looking at Jesus. And fear leads us to look at the difficulties, the awful problems, and not to look at the Lord, who many times is sleeping. It is this way for us too: how often we remain fixated on problems rather than going to the Lord and casting our concerns to him! How often we leave the Lord in a corner, at the bottom of the boat of life, to wake him only in a moment of need! Today, let us ask for the grace of a faith that never tires of seeking the Lord, of knocking at the door of his Heart. May the Virgin Mary, who in her life never stopped trusting in God, reawaken in us the basic need of entrusting ourselves to him each day.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 20 June 2021]

Full dedication, but for a our own’s crossing

(Mt 8:18-22)

Continuing to venerate certainties, points of reference and habits, one can only manage a world of the dead (v.22).

Whoever welcomes Christ opens himself to a Newness - splendid but risky - that he doesn’t know.

The believer must take into account that we are all called to make strenuous crossings to other shores (v.18), compared to the usual.

To overcome this insecurity and the natural fear, initial enthusiasm is not enough.

In view of the difficult moments of evangelization, it is good that the son of God understands his forces or inclinations - and whether they are able to lead him to the point of transgressing even indispensable bonds (v.21).

Not for effort and "resilience". In this way we do not waste attention and energy to sustain things that have no future (v.22).

From the earliest times the Risen One was not identified as a simple model of deprivation and humiliation, to be "imitated".

The Lord was a non-external Motive and an (all intimate) Engine of new life. That’s the point.

Religions teach only one "matter": the story and style of the Founder, which makes you learn beautiful "notions" and heroic deeds.

In the spirituality of the Passage in Christ to other shores [v.18] one can only be in synergy with the Source that gushes inside.

Growth will be faithful to its own Seed. Flowering will be commesurate on the Roots and flow of the Sap, not on the protrusion of the leaves.

In the adventure of Faith our Core generates us and leads us to introduce in the relationship with ourselves, with others and things, in the most different way.

Love is spontaneous and risky; it never has the outline of the standard mechanisms.

In following the Lord there is sobriety, yet pre-established schemes are lacking. As in Friendship: it too is "unsafe", but there is a Source.

It's the unprecedented personal that in the labours continues to convey creative Joy - and makes us take to the field, to remain qualitative and profound.

Lack of imposed tracks teaches the Road of spontaneity that opens stunning breaches.

Nature itself recovers the opposites and sides in half-light, or dim, considered superfluous.

Here we draw on the genuineness of our particular essence, in an uncontaminated way from cerebral or customary taboos.

Discovering it more faceted than we thought.

Moving away from obvious judgments (and from getting along with the mannerisms around) we are introduced to the green light of independence and vocational wealth.

Under the action of the Spirit, it will be precisely in real danger that everyone will finally access the ‘mystical dimension of the Following’.

What if we continue to feel the vertigo of the continuous crossings - of a task too great for such an inferior «me», incapable of constant performances, recognized?

But right here, without scaffolding, personally meeting the Lord, we have already perceived and felt with our whole being his subtle Appeal:

«I do not abandon yourself; you, do not leave yourself: Me in you».

[Monday 13th wk. in O.T.  June 30, 2025]

Full dedication, but for a crossing of our own

(Mt 8:18-22)

Jesus wants us to give new space to His Word; that by listening to Him, we allow Him to speak. And through our choices, that He becomes meaningful again.

His Word is demanding, but it frees us from ballasts, from mental cloaks that solidify in time and in our heads. Our real overburden.

The Sequela is simple but not facile. Easy, after all; in the gratuitousness of deep and immediate attunement, without external filters.

Continuing to venerate securities, landmarks and habits does nothing more than manage a world of the dead (v.22).

He who welcomes Christ opens himself to a Newness - splendid but risky - that he does not know.

The believer must take into account that we are all called to make tiring crossings to other shores (v.18) than the usual ones.

To overcome this insecurity and natural fear, initial enthusiasm is not enough.

In view of the hard times of evangelisation, it is good for the child of God to understand his own strengths or inclinations - and whether they are capable of leading him to the point of transgressing indispensable ties, family interests, "sacred" duties (v.21).

This is to allow new modes of expression and pastoral forms to emerge and flourish. Not by effort and 'resilience'.

It is useless to continue spending one's life propping up dead branches, keeping up sophisticated ideas or traditions, even if they are well established, squandering attention and energy to support things that have no future (v.22).

How do we find energy within ourselves when we are, for example, hindered and despised?

From the earliest times the Risen One was not identified as a mere model of hardship and humiliation, to be "imitated".

The Lord was a non-exterior motive and an (all-intimate) engine of new life. This is the point.

In religions only one "matter" is taught: the story and style of the Founder, who makes you learn splendid "notions" and heroic deeds.

In the spirituality of the Passage in Christ to other shores [v.18] one can only be in synergy with the Source that gushes within.

Growth will be true to one's Seed. Flowering will be commensurate with one's Roots and the flowing of the Sap, not with the prominence of the leaves.

In the adventure of Faith our Core generates us and brings us into relationship with ourselves, others and things, in the most diverse way.

Love is spontaneous and risky; it never has the outline of standard mechanisms.

In the following of the Lord, there is sobriety, yet there is a lack of predetermined patterns. As in Friendship: it too is "unsafe", but there is a Source.

So one does not waste one's life embalming graveyard chimeras, or chasing other people's ideas, disembodied fantasies, (or dehumanising violence) fashionable, which crumble us inside.

It is the personal unseen that in our travails continues to convey creative joy - and makes us take to the field, to remain qualitative and profound.

The lack of imposed binaries - typical of religions - teaches the Road of spontaneity that opens astounding breaches.

Nature itself recovers opposites and sides in the shadows, or shaky, considered superfluous.

Here we tap into the genuineness of our particular essence, transparently and uncontaminated by cerebral or customary taboos.

Discovering it to be more multifaceted than we thought.

Moving away from obvious judgements (and getting along with the mannerisms around) we are introduced to the Free Way of vocational independence and richness.

Under the action of the Spirit, it will be in real danger that each one will finally access the mystical dimension of the Sequela.

We will do so with polish and to the point of building the unthought-of completeness and Happiness for self and all.

Sometimes we, too, keep asking ourselves whether that Path we are treading is actually "ours".

And perhaps we continue to feel the vertigo or fear of the constant crossings - of a task too great, for such an inferior 'I', incapable of constant, recognised performance.

But right here, without scaffolding, personally encountering the Lord, we perceived and felt with our whole being his subtle Appeal:

"Do not forsake thyself: Me in thee".

To internalise and live the message:

What made you decide for the crossing? How did you leave everything or opinions behind?

Where do you share the hardship and joy of the intense and personal apostolate (e.g. in the cloister) or of the new evangelisation (e.g. among the slums)?

Do you do your utmost for the education of young people with varied training, and the action of dialogue and listening to those far away?

How do you approach the hardships and shady areas that you do not expect? Do you return to the reassuring den and nest?

The biblical readings of the Holy Mass [...] give me the opportunity to take up the theme of Christ's call and its requirements, a topic on which I also reflected a week ago, on the occasion of the ordinations of the new priests for the Diocese of Rome. In fact, those who have the good fortune to know a young man or woman who leaves the family and studies and works in order to consecrate him- or herself to God know well what is involved, for they have before them a living example of a radical response to the divine call. This is one of the most beautiful experiences one can have in the Church: seeing and actually touching the Lord's action in people's lives; experiencing that God is not an abstract entity but a reality so great and strong that it fills human hearts to overflowing, he is a Person, alive and close, who loves us and asks to be loved.

The Evangelist Luke presents to us Jesus, walking to Jerusalem, who meets some men on the road probably young men who promise they will follow him wherever he goes. Jesus proves very demanding with them and warns them that "the Son of Man", namely, the Messiah, "has nowhere to lay his head" that is to say, he has no permanent dwelling place of his own and that those who choose to work with him in God's field cannot turn back (cf. Lk 9:57-58; 61-62). On the other hand Christ says to someone else: "Follow me", asking him to sever completely his ties with his family (cf. Lk 9:59-60). These requirements may seem too harsh but in fact they express the newness and absolute priority of the Kingdom of God that is made present in the very Person of Jesus Christ. All things considered, it is a question of that radicalism that is due to the Love of God, whom Jesus himself was the first to obey. Those who give up everything, even themselves, to follow Jesus, enter into a new dimension of freedom that St Paul defines as "walk[ing] by the Spirit" (cf. Gal 5:16). "For freedom Christ has set us free", the Apostle writes, and he explains that this new form of freedom acquired from Christ consists in being "servants of one another" (Gal 5:1, 13). Freedom and love coincide! On the contrary, complying with one's own egoism leads to rivalry and conflict.

Dear friends, the month of June, characterized by the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Christ, is now coming to an end. On the Feast of the Sacred Heart we renewed our commitment to sanctification together with the priests of the whole world. Today, I would like to invite everyone to contemplate the mystery of the divine and human Heart of the Lord Jesus, to draw from the very source of God's Love. Those who fix their gaze on that pierced Heart that is ever open for our love sense the truth of this invocation: "You are my inheritance O Lord" (Responsorial Psalm), and are prepared to leave everything to follow the Lord. O Mary, who answered the divine call without reserve, pray for us!

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 27 June 2010]