1. "Bless you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for you have kept these things hidden from the wise and the learned and revealed them to babes" (Mt 11:25).

We come here, dear brothers, to repeat with Christ the Lord these words, to "bless the Father".

- We come to bless him because of what he revealed, eight centuries ago, to a "Little One", to the Poverello of Assisi;

- the things in heaven and on earth, which the philosophers "had not even dreamed of";

- the things hidden from those who are only humanly "wise", and only humanly "intelligent";

- these "things" the Father, the Lord of heaven and earth, has revealed to Francis and through Francis.

Through Francis of Pietro di Bernardone, that is, the son of a rich merchant of Assisi, who abandoned all the inheritance of his earthly father and married "Lady Poverty", the inheritance of the heavenly Father offered to him in Christ crucified and risen.

The primary purpose of our pilgrimage to Assisi this year is to give glory to God.

In a spirit of veneration, let us also celebrate the Eucharist together, all of us, Pastors of the Church in Italy with the Bishop of Rome, successor of Peter.

2. "Yes, O Father, for it pleased thee" (Mt 11:26).

After eight centuries, relics and memories remain. The whole of Assisi is a living relic and a testimony of man. Of man alone? Of the unusual man alone?

- It is the testimony of a particular delight that the Heavenly Father, through his Only-Begotten Son, had in this man, in this "little one", in the "Poverello", in Francis who - like very few throughout the history of the Church and of humanity - learned from Christ to be meek and humble of heart.

Yes, Father, such was your contentment. So many men come here to follow in the footsteps of your complacency. Today we come, Bishops of Italy.

We have come to close and, at the same time, crown in this Jubilee Year of St Francis of Assisi the work carried out during the entire year of the visit "ad limina Apostolorum" to which the tradition and the law of the Church have invited our episcopate at this time.

3. We find ourselves in the presence of the Saint, who at the same time is the patron saint of Italy, hence the one who, among the many canonised and beatified sons and daughters of this land, unites Italy with the Church in a special way. In fact, the Church's task is to proclaim and realise in every nation that vocation to holiness that we have from the Father in the Holy Spirit through the work of Christ crucified and risen; of this Christ, whose wounds St Francis of Assisi bore in his body: 'For I bear the stigmata of Jesus in my body' (Gal 6:17).

So we stand in his presence and meditate on the words of the Gospel, sentence after sentence:

"Everything has been given to me by my Father; no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and he to whom the Son wishes to reveal him" (Mt 11:27).

Here, we find ourselves before a man, to whom the Son of God wished to reveal, in a particular measure and with particular abundance, what has been given to him by the Father for all men, for all times. Certainly, Francis was sent with the Gospel of Christ especially in his own time, in the transition from the 12th to the 13th century, in the midst of the Italian Middle Ages, which was a splendid and at the same time difficult period: but every age has retained something of it. However, the Franciscan mission did not end then; it continues to this day.

And here we, Bishops and Pastors of the Church, to whom are entrusted the Gospel and the Church of our times - how apparently splendid, how far removed from the Middle Ages according to the measure of earthly progress! and at the same time how, how difficult! - we Bishops and Pastors of the Church in this same Italy, pray above all for one thing. Let us pray that the same words of our Master, which were fulfilled on Saint Francis, be fulfilled upon us; that we be the sure depositories of the Revelation of the Son! That we be the faithful stewards of what the Father Himself handed down to the Only-Begotten Son, born of the Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit. That we are stewards of this truth and this love, of this word and this salvation, which all mankind and every man and every nation have in him and from him; for "no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and he to whom the Son wills to reveal him" (Matthew 11: 27).

Such is the pastoral and apostolic purpose of our pilgrimage today.

4. And behold, Francis seems to address us and speak to us with the accents of Paul the Apostle: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers" (Gal 6:18)!

Thank you, holy Poverello, for these good wishes with which you are receiving us!Looking with the eyes of the spirit

your figure 

and meditating on the words of the letter to the Galatians 

with which today's liturgy speaks to us, 

we wish to learn from you 

this 'belonging to Jesus 

of which your whole life constitutes 

such a perfect example and model. 

"As for me... 

let there be no other boast than in the cross 

of our Lord Jesus Christ, 

through whom the world for me 

was crucified as I for the world" (Gal 6:14).

Let us hear Paul's words, 

which are also, Francis, 

your words. 

Your spirit is expressed in them. 

Jesus Christ has allowed you, 

just as he once 

had allowed that Apostle 

who became a "chosen instrument" (Acts 9:15), 

to "boast", solely and exclusively, 

in the Cross of our Redemption.

In this way you have arrived at the very heart 

of the knowledge of the truth about God 

about the world and man; 

truth that can only be seen 

only with the eyes of love.

Now that we stand before you 

as successors of the Apostles 

sent to the men of our time 

with the same Gospel of the Cross of Christ, 

we ask: teach us, just as the Apostle Paul 

taught you 

to have "no other boast than 

in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ".

May each one of us, 

with all the insight of the gift of fear, 

of wisdom and fortitude 

know how to penetrate the truth 

of these words about the Cross 

in which the "new creature" begins, 

about the Cross that constantly brings 

to humanity "peace and mercy".

Through the Cross, God has expressed himself to the end in human history; God who is "rich in mercy" (Eph 2:4). In the Cross, the glory of Love willing to do everything is revealed. Only with the Cross in his hand - like an open book - can man learn to the full about himself and his dignity.

He must finally, fixing his eyes on the Cross, ask himself: 'who am I', man, in the eyes of God, if he pays such a price for me and my love!

"The Cross on Calvary," I wrote in the encyclical "Redemptor Hominis", "by which Jesus Christ - man, son of the Virgin Mary, putative son of Joseph of Nazareth - 'leaves' this world, is at the same time a new manifestation of the eternal fatherhood of God, who in him draws near once again to humanity, to every man, giving him the thrice holy 'Spirit of Truth' (cf. Jn 16:13)... His is love that does not recoil from anything that in Himself demands justice.

And for this reason the Son 

"who had known no sin, 

God treated him as sin for our sake" (2 Cor 5:21; cf. Gal 3:13). 

If he "dealt from sin" 

He who was absolutely 

without any sin, 

he did so to reveal the love 

which is always greater 

than all creation, 

the love that is himself, 

for 'God is love' (1 Jn 4:8, 16)" (John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis, 9).

This is exactly how you looked at things 

you, Francis. 

They called you the "Poor Man of Assisi", 

and you were and remained 

one of the men who gave 

most generously to others. 

You had therefore an enormous wealth, 

a great treasure. 

And the secret of your wealth 

was hidden in the Cross of Christ.

Teach us, 

Bishops and Pastors of the 20th century 

which is drawing to an end, 

to boast similarly in the Cross, 

teach us this wealth in poverty 

and this giving in abundance.

5. The first reading from the book of Sirach recalls the words about the high priest Simon, son of Onias, who "in his life repaired the temple and in his days strengthened the sanctuary" (Sir 50:1).

The liturgy refers these words to Francis of Assisi. He remained in tradition, literature and art as the one who 'repaired the temple... and fortified the sanctuary'. As the one who "caring to prevent the fall of his people, fortified the city against a siege (Sir 50:4).

The reading goes on to speak of Simon, son of Onias, and we relate these words to Francis, son of Peter of Bernardone. We also apply these comparisons to him:

"Like a morning star among the clouds, / like the moon in the days when it is full, / like the sun blazing over the temple of the Most High, / like the shining rainbow among clouds of glory" (Sir 50, 6-7).

6. We gladly borrow these words from the book of Sirach to venerate, after eight hundred years, Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of Italy.

That is why we have all come here, Bishops and Pastors of the Church that is in all of Italy together with the Bishop of Rome, the successor of Peter.

However, the purpose of our pilgrimage is particularly apostolic and pastoral.

When we hear Christ's words about the yoke that is sweet and the burden that is light, (cf. Mt 11:30) we think of our mission as Bishops and pastoral service.

And let us repeat with confidence and joy the words of the Responsorial Psalm: "I said to God: 'You are my Lord, /Without you I have no good. / The Lord is my inheritance and my cup: / in your hands is my life. / I bless the Lord who has given me counsel.... / I always place before me the Lord, / he stands at my right hand, I cannot waver" (Ps 15 [16]).

With joy we have accepted the invitation to come here to Assisi, heard in a certain way in the words of our Lord and Master: "Come to me, all you who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest" (Mt 11:28). Let us hope that they will be fulfilled on us all, as well as the further words: "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, who am meek and humble of heart, and you will find rest for your souls" (Mt 11:29).

So we wish, Christ! Thus we desire! With such a thought we have come to Assisi today. We thank you for the holy "burden" of priesthood and episcopacy. We thank you for Saint Francis, who did not feel worthy to accept priestly ordination. Yet to him you entrusted, in such an exceptional way, your Church.

7. And behold, as we look towards Francis, who "poor and humble, enters richly into heaven, honoured with heavenly hymns" (Cant. ad Evang.), we would still like to apply to him the words of the book of Sirach, which summarise his famous vision so well: "Francis, take care to prevent the fall of your people"!

Francis! As in your life, so also now, repair the temple! Fortify the sanctuary!

For this we pray, we Pastors of the Church, who at the school of the Second Vatican Council have learned anew to surround the Church, Italy and the contemporary world with a common solicitude.

And with our beloved people we repeat:

"The Lord is my inheritance and my cup: / in your hands is my life; / I bless the Lord who has given me counsel;... / I always place before me the Lord'.

Yes, brothers and sisters, always! And so be it.

[Pope John Paul II, homily Assisi 12 March 1982]

“I give you thanks, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding, and revealed them to babes” (Mt 11:25).

Peace and all good to each and every one of you! With this Franciscan greeting I thank you for being here, in this Square so full of history and faith, to pray together.

Today, I too have come, like countless other pilgrims, to give thanks to the Father for all that he wished to reveal to one of the “little ones” mentioned in today’s Gospel: Francis, the son of a wealthy merchant of Assisi. His encounter with Jesus led him to strip himself of an easy and carefree life in order to espouse “Lady Poverty” and to live as a true son of our heavenly Father. This decision of Saint Francis was a radical way of imitating Christ: he clothed himself anew, putting on Christ, who, though he was rich, became poor in order to make us rich by his poverty (cf. 2 Cor 8:9). In all of Francis’ life, love for the poor and the imitation of Christ in his poverty were inseparably united, like the two sides of the same coin.

What does Saint Francis’s witness tell us today? What does he have to say to us, not merely with words – that is easy enough – but by his life? 

1. The first thing he tells us is this: that being a Christian means having a living relationship with the person of Jesus; it means putting on Christ, being conformed to him.

Where did Francis’s journey to Christ begin? It began with the gaze of the crucified Jesus. With letting Jesus look at us at the very moment that he gives his life for us and draws us to himself. Francis experienced this in a special way in the Church of San Damiano, as he prayed before the cross which I too will have an opportunity to venerate. On that cross, Jesus is depicted not as dead, but alive! Blood is flowing from his wounded hands, feet and side, but that blood speaks of life. Jesus’ eyes are not closed but open, wide open: he looks at us in a way that touches our hearts. The cross does not speak to us about defeat and failure; paradoxically, it speaks to us about a death which is life, a death which gives life, for it speaks to us of love, the love of God incarnate, a love which does not die, but triumphs over evil and death. When we let the crucified Jesus gaze upon us, we are re-created, we become “a new creation”. Everything else starts with this: the experience of transforming grace, the experience of being loved for no merits of our own, in spite of our being sinners. That is why Saint Francis could say with Saint Paul: “Far be it for me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Gal 6:14).

We turn to you, Francis, and we ask you: Teach us to remain before the cross, to let the crucified Christ gaze upon us, to let ourselves be forgiven, and recreated by his love.

2. In today’s Gospel we heard these words: “Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart” (Mt 11:28-29).

This is the second witness that Francis gives us: that everyone who follows Christ receives true peace, the peace that Christ alone can give, a peace which the world cannot give. Many people, when they think of Saint Francis, think of peace; very few people however go deeper. What is the peace which Francis received, experienced and lived, and which he passes on to us? It is the peace of Christ, which is born of the greatest love of all, the love of the cross. It is the peace which the Risen Jesus gave to his disciples when he stood in their midst (cf. Jn 20:19-20).

Franciscan peace is not something saccharine. Hardly! That is not the real Saint Francis! Nor is it a kind of pantheistic harmony with forces of the cosmos… That is not Franciscan either! It is not Franciscan, but a notion that some people have invented! The peace of Saint Francis is the peace of Christ, and it is found by those who “take up” their “yoke”, namely, Christ’s commandment: Love one another as I have loved you (cf. Jn 13:34; 15:12). This yoke cannot be borne with arrogance, presumption or pride, but only with meekness and humbleness of heart.

We turn to you, Francis, and we ask you: Teach us to be “instruments of peace”, of that peace which has its source in God, the peace which Jesus has brought us.

3. Francis began the Canticle of the Creatures with these words: “Praised may you be, Most High, All-powerful God, good Lord… by all your creatures (FF, 1820). Love for all creation, for its harmony. Saint Francis of Assisi bears witness to the need to respect all that God has created and as he created it, without manipulating and destroying creation; rather to help it grow, to become more beautiful and more like what God created it to be. And above all, Saint Francis witnesses to respect for everyone, he testifies that each of us is called to protect our neighbour, that the human person is at the centre of creation, at the place where God – our creator – willed that we should be. Not at the mercy of the idols we have created! Harmony and peace! Francis was a man of harmony and peace. From this City of Peace, I repeat with all the strength and the meekness of love: Let us respect creation, let us not be instruments of destruction! Let us respect each human being. May there be an end to armed conflicts which cover the earth with blood; may the clash of arms be silenced; and everywhere may hatred yield to love, injury to pardon, and discord to unity. Let us listen to the cry of all those who are weeping, who are suffering and who are dying because of violence, terrorism or war, in the Holy Land, so dear to Saint Francis, in Syria, throughout the Middle East and everywhere in the world. 

We turn to you, Francis, and we ask you: Obtain for us God’s gift of harmony, peace and respect for creation!

Finally, I cannot forget the fact that today Italy celebrates Saint Francis as her patron saint. I greet all the Italian people, represented by the Head of Government, who is present among us. The traditional offering of oil for the votive lamp, which this year is given by the Region of Umbria, is an expression of this. Let us pray for Italy, that everyone will always work for the common good, and look more to what unites us, rather than what divides us.

I make my own the prayer of Saint Francis for Assisi, for Italy and for the world: “I pray to you, Lord Jesus Christ, Father of mercies: Do not look upon our ingratitude, but always keep in mind the surpassing goodness which you have shown to this City. Grant that it may always be the home of men and women who know you in truth and who glorify your most holy and glorious name, now and for all ages. Amen.” (The Mirror of Perfection, 124: FF, 1824).

[Pope Francis, homily Assisi 4 October 2013]

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [28 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. We continue our teaching on wealth and our relationship with the poor, a subject that is particularly relevant for our reflection in the face of the injustices, both large and small, that we see in the news every day.

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Amos (6:1a, 4-7)

In the Bible, Amos is the first 'writing' prophet, that is, the first of whom a book remains. Other great prophets before him remained very famous: Elijah, for example, or Elisha, or Nathan... but we do not have their written sermons, only memories handed down by those around them. Amos preached around 780-750 BC and certainly had to say things that not everyone liked, since he was eventually expelled after being denounced to the king.  Originally from the south, he preached in the north during a period of great economic prosperity. Last week we read one of his texts in which he rebuked some rich people for building their wealth at the expense of the poor. Today's passage gives us an idea of the luxury that reigned in Samaria: 'Lying on beds of ivory... they eat lambs from the flock and calves from the stall... they sing to the sound of the harp like David and anoint themselves with the finest ointments, but they do not worry about Joseph's ruin'. The rulers do not know or do not want to know that a terrible threat hangs over them: 'they do not care about the ruin of Joseph'. They will then be deported, indeed they will be the first to be deported, and the band of revellers will no longer exist. This prophet of doom, who sought to warn the powerful and the ruling class, was not listened to; on the contrary, he was silenced by getting rid of him. But what he feared came true. Amos therefore addresses the rich and powerful, those in charge. What exactly does he reproach them for? The first sentence gives us the key: 'Woe to those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria'. In other words: you are comfortable, satisfied with your well-being and even your luxury... well, I pity you because you have understood nothing: you are like people who hide under the covers so as not to see the cyclone coming, and this whole society will collapse, crushed a few years later by the Assyrians, with many dead and the survivors deported. Woe to those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria'... But what are they doing wrong? The wrong is to base their security on what is passing: some ephemeral military success, economic prosperity and the appearances of piety... so as not to displease God and his prophet. They even boast of their successes, believing they deserve some credit, when everything comes from God. Now, Israel's only security is fidelity to the Covenant. This is the great insistence of all the prophets, as Micah will do a few years later when he preaches in Jerusalem. Hypocrisy reigned in Samaria: when they offer sacrifices, they turn the banquet that follows into a revelry... because the meals that Amos describes are probably sacred meals, like those that followed certain sacrifices. Sacrilegious meals, therefore, that have nothing to do with the Covenant. The difficulty of this passage lies in its conciseness: in fact, to understand it, one must have in mind the whole of prophetic preaching; Amos' logic, like that of all the prophets, is as follows: the happiness of individuals and peoples inevitably depends on fidelity to the Covenant with God; and fidelity to the Covenant means social justice and trust in God, and if one departs from these two points, one is lost. This is what Amos is talking about, and we need only reread last Sunday's text, in which he rebuked the rich for enriching themselves on the backs of the poor. In today's text, the luxury banquets described obviously do not benefit everyone, and the need for God is no longer felt. Isaiah will also say: 'This people honours me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me' (Is 29:13). Samaria was covered with luxurious palaces, built by some at the expense of others; once they had become rich, thanks to flourishing trade, it was easy to expropriate small landowners, reducing some of the poorest to slavery, as in last Sunday's text. Archaeology also provides interesting details on this point: while in the tenth century the houses were all of the same model and represented identical standards of living, in the eighth century, on the contrary, there was a clear distinction between rich and poor neighbourhoods.

*Responsorial Psalm (145/146, 6c.7, 8.9a, 9bc-10)

This splendid litany is only part of Psalm 145/146, and today's liturgy does not include the Alleluias that frame it in the Hebrew text, as it is an Alleluia psalm. This means that, as last Sunday, we are faced with a psalm of praise. Speaking in this psalm are the oppressed, the hungry, the blind, the bent over, the strangers, the widows, and the orphans who recognise God's concern for them. In reality, it is the people of Israel who speak of themselves: it is their own history that they recount and give thanks for God's protection, having experienced all these situations: oppression in Egypt, from which God freed them with a mighty hand and outstretched arm, and oppression in Babylon, where once again God intervened. They experienced hunger in the desert, and God sent manna and quails. God opens the eyes of these blind people, revealing himself progressively through his prophets. It is these broken people that God tirelessly lifts up and makes stand; they are the people seeking justice that God guides. It is therefore a song of gratitude: The Lord brings justice to the oppressed, gives bread to the hungry, frees prisoners, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who have fallen, loves the righteous, protects the stranger and supports the widow and the orphan. The Lord, who returns in a liturgical manner, is the translation of the Name of God in four letters, the Tetragrammaton: YHVH, which speaks of his active and liberating presence. The verse preceding today's verses sums them all up: 'Blessed is he who has the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord (YHVH) his God': the secret of happiness is to rely on God and expect everything from Him. This psalm is chosen for this Sunday as a response to the text of Amos, who warned the people of Samaria to know well in whom to place their trust, fleeing false securities because only God is trustworthy. Recognising our dependence on God and living it with complete trust, because He is total benevolence: this is the definition of faith and the secret of happiness, as the prophets preach.  We must not forget the unique experience that the children of Israel had the privilege of enjoying: throughout their journey to freedom, they experienced the presence of the One they recognised as the Lord who led them in their search for freedom and justice for all, indeed for greater justice, respect and defence of the small and the weak. If we look more closely, we see that the law of Israel has no other goal: to make Israel a free people, respectful of the freedom of others. God leads his people on this long journey of liberation. It is good for us to reread this psalm not only to recognise what God does for his people, but also to give us a course of action: if God has acted in this way towards Israel, we, who are heirs to this long journey of Covenant, are in turn obliged to do the same for others.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (6:11-16)

One could not imagine a more complete summary of everything that constitutes the faith and life of a Christian. At the same time, Paul's solemn formulas are surprising: 'Before God and... Christ Jesus, I charge you'. At first reading, one seems to perceive echoes of difficulties in the community of Ephesus, where Timothy had responsibilities: 'Fight the good fight of faith'. A little earlier in the same letter, Paul had already spoken of the fight for the faith in the first chapter (1 Tim 1:18-19). There is therefore a battle to be fought in order to affirm one's faith. The moment is serious, which explains the solemn tone: the fidelity of the young Christian community to its baptism is at stake. The passage we read today is framed by two very similar texts that further clarify the two dangers to be avoided: false doctrines and the pursuit of riches. We must believe that there were real problems with false doctrines: Timothy, guard the deposit, avoid ungodly chatter and pseudo-scientific objections. Because they professed it (meaning this pseudo-science), some strayed from the faith (cf. 1 Tim 6:20-21). And in the same vein, a few verses earlier: If anyone teaches a different doctrine, if he does not adhere to the words of the Lord Jesus Christ and to the doctrine in accordance with godliness, he is blinded by pride. He is ignorant, sick, seeking controversy and verbal disputes (1 Tim 6:3-4). This problem had already appeared at the beginning of the letter, and Paul had recommended that Timothy remain in Ephesus (cf. 1 Tim 1:3-4). He then insists with the same force on the risk of seeking riches because the root of all evil is the love of money (cf. 1 Tim 6:10). These, then, are the two worst dangers to the faith in Paul's eyes, and he invites Timothy to remain faithful to his baptism. In Paul's time, baptisms were administered in front of the entire community, and in the baptismal rite itself, the profession of faith was a very important moment because the 'yes' of our baptism is rooted in Christ's 'yes' to the Father, and we must be able to repeat this 'yes' day after day. Timothy will need all his strength, which is why Paul multiplies his recommendations that he persevere in fighting for the faith in order to obtain eternal life. The weapons of combat are faith, love, perseverance and gentleness, which is the main weapon. True combat has nothing to do with religious wars, and history shows that religious wars have never converted anyone. The goal on which we must always keep our eyes fixed is eternal life, which is also the manifestation ('epiphany') of Christ. Paul concludes with a kind of profession of faith, which is precisely what Timothy must continue to affirm against all adversity: 'God is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, the only one who possesses immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no man has ever seen or can see'. God is the All-Other, a theme we find in the Old Testament: it is the transcendence of God, the All-Other who nevertheless draws close to us and, at the appointed time, will reveal the Lord Jesus Christ.

From the Gospel according to Luke (16:19-31)

The last sentence is doubly terrible: "If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded even if someone rises from the dead."  This statement seems desperate, as if nothing can change a heart of stone, and it is even more terrible coming from the mouth of Jesus. When Luke wrote the Gospel, he knew full well that Christ's Resurrection had not converted everyone; on the contrary, it had hardened the hearts of some even more. Let us move on to the story of the rich man and poor Lazarus: we do not know much about the rich man, not even his name; it is not said that he is evil; on the contrary, later he will think of saving his brothers from misfortune in the afterlife. However, he lives in his own world, so immersed in his comfort, like the Samaritans mentioned by Amos in the first reading, that he does not even see the beggar dying of hunger at his door who would be content with his leftovers. The poor man's name is Lazarus, which means 'God helps', and this already says a lot: God helps him, not because he is virtuous, but simply because he is poor. This is perhaps the first surprise that Jesus has in store for his listeners: this story was a well-known tale from Egypt, about two characters, a rich man full of sins and a poor man full of virtues: when they arrive in the afterlife, they are weighed on the scales, and the good and bad deeds of both the rich and the poor are evaluated. The good, both rich and poor, were rewarded, while the bad, rich or poor, were punished. Even the rabbis before Jesus told similar stories: the rich man was the son of a sinful tax collector, while the poor man was a very devout man; they too were weighed on the scales and the merits of each were carefully evaluated, with the devout man proving to be more deserving than the tax collector's son. Jesus upsets this logic somewhat: he does not calculate merits and good deeds because it is not said that Lazarus is virtuous and the rich man evil, but simply notes that the rich man remained rich all his life, while the poor man remained poor at his door: this signifies the abyss of indifference that was created between rich and poor, simply because the rich man never opened his door. Another important detail in Jesus' story: it is not entirely true that we know nothing about the rich man, because he tells us how he was dressed: in purple and linen, a clear allusion to the clothes of priests. The colour purple, originally the colour of royal clothing, had become the colour of the high priests because they served the king of the world; linen was the fabric of the high priest's tunic. Jesus means that you can be the High Priest, but if you despise your brothers, you do not deserve the title of children of Abraham. In fact, Abraham is mentioned seven times and is certainly a key to the text. Jesus' question is: "Who is truly a son of Abraham?" and he answers that if you do not listen to the Law and the Prophets, if you are indifferent to the suffering of your brothers, you are not a son of Abraham. And he goes further: the poor man would have liked to eat the rich man's crumbs, but it was the dogs that licked his sores. Dogs were unclean animals... so even if the pious rich man had taken the trouble to open the door, he would still have been scandalised and would have fled from that unclean man licked by dogs... Jesus' lesson is therefore: You worry about merits, you try to remain pure, you are proud to be descendants of Abraham... but you forget the essential... No extraordinary signs are needed to convert: the Law with the Prophets is enough, and for us the Gospel is enough: but we must live them!

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [21 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. As we resume our pastoral activities, the word of God guides us to understand where the true riches of life lie. 

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Amos (8:4–7)

This is certainly a grave moment, for this text from the prophet Amos concludes with a solemn formula: 'The Lord swears by the pride of Jacob' (v. 7). 'The pride of Jacob' is God himself, because he is (or should be) the only pride of his people; in other words, the Lord swears by himself. God can only commit himself to himself! But what is God swearing about? He assures that he will not forget "all their deeds", that is, all the misdeeds of Israel that the prophet Amos condemns because they seek only to enrich themselves at the expense of others. Amos is a prophet of the 8th century BC, when Palestine was divided into two kingdoms. A small shepherd from a village in the south (Tekoa, near Bethlehem), he was chosen by God to go and preach in the northern kingdom, also called Samaria after its capital. Under the reign of Jeroboam II, around 750 BC, Samaria experienced a period of economic prosperity, but this prosperity did not benefit everyone. On the contrary, Amos noted that the enrichment of some came at the expense of the impoverishment of others, simply because basic necessities, such as daily bread or sandals, were in the hands of unscrupulous sellers. Thus, the poor had no other solution, in order not to die of hunger or cold, than to sell themselves as slaves, 'buying the needy and the poor for a pair of sandals' (v. 6). Those who suffer injustice may try to seek justice, but whenever there is a trial for fraud or obvious scams, the courts take the side of the rich against the poor simply because the rich pay the judges. Amos says it clearly: 'They turn justice into poison and throw righteousness to the ground' (5:7). Justice itself is distorted, corrupted. The text we have heard is therefore one in which Amos speaks to announce God's judgement, and it is a veritable indictment: he states the facts, then gives his verdict: You crush the poor, you destroy the humble of the earth, and you ask when the new moon festival will be over so that we can sell our grain?  The new moon, the first day of the month (called 'neomenia'), was a holiday: no work, no travel, no commercial activity was allowed because it was a day of rest like the Sabbath. This time of suspension of business served to turn man towards God. But here it seems that it is lived with impatience, because man now has another master: money, and for those whose only thought is profit, a day of rest is a loss. This is why Amos rebukes: 'Hear this, you who trample on the poor... and say, "When will the new moon be over so that we may sell our grain? (v.7). He targets dishonest sellers, for whom trade means fraud, with exorbitant prices and falsified scales. The image of the falsified scales has a double meaning: on the one hand, we understand how a crooked balance can falsify a measurement, but, more profoundly, it means that the whole of society lives on rigged scales. Ultimately, Amos reproaches the people of Samaria for living in falsehood and injustice: the scales are rigged, justice is corrupt, holidays are observed reluctantly and with ulterior motives; in short, everything is rigged. Here, then, is the judgement: 'The Lord swears by the pride of Jacob: I will not forget all their deeds' (v. 7). In other words: You who enrich yourselves unjustly, quickly forget your crimes, and the courts follow you; but the Lord declares that all this must not be forgotten and that you must not become accustomed to injustice. Amos pronounces his warning in the most solemn way possible, because there is a very serious lesson: the first thing God asks of his people is to live in justice, and a society founded on injustice and misery of all kinds can only offend God. Amos is all the more severe because, for a hundred years, the Northern Kingdom has boasted of having eliminated idolatry by abolishing the cults of Baal; but in reality, what Amos reproaches them for is having fallen into an even more dangerous idolatry: that of money.

*Responsorial Psalm (113/[112])

This psalm is the first of those that Jesus sang on Holy Thursday evening before leaving for the Mount of Olives. The first word he sang was Alleluia, which literally means Praise God: Allelu is the imperative, praise; and Ya is the first syllable of the Holy Name. Therefore, it is a psalm of praise, as can be understood from the first word: Alleluia. The composition of this psalm is interesting, consisting of two parts of four verses each, framing a central verse. The central verse is a question: 'Who is like our Lord God? (v. 5) and the two parts contemplate the two faces of the mystery of God: his holiness and his mercy. In his revelation, God has made himself known as the Transcendent, the All-Holy and as the Merciful, the All-Near. To manifest his holiness, his Name, 'the Lord', is repeated, the Name of God, revealed by himself in four letters (YHWH) which, however, are never pronounced. And as we know, in the Bible, when these four letters appear, the Hebrew reader spontaneously replaces them with 'Adonai', which means My Lord, and which does not claim to describe or define God. The term 'Lord', which expresses well the distance between God and us, is used five times, while 'the Name' is used three times, and the verb 'to praise' three times. The great discovery is found in the central verse: 'Who is like our Lord God?': the God of glory is at the same time the God of mercy. The second part of the psalm describes God's action in favour of the smallest and poorest: he lifts the weak from the dust, he raises the poor from the rubbish (v. 7). Among the weak and poor was the barren woman, who lived in constant fear of being rejected: "He settles the barren woman in her home, a joyful mother of children" (v. 9). Sarah, Abraham's wife, experienced this miraculous reversal: the joy of the barren woman who, after several years, found herself with a house full of children. The Bible loves to emphasise these reversals of situation: because nothing is impossible for God. Mary's Magnificat is full of this confident certainty. When, after the Last Supper, Jesus sang this psalm with his disciples as they climbed the Mount of Olives, he felt the verse "he lifts the weak from the dust" in a special way. He was heading towards his death, and he certainly recognised here a proclamation of his resurrection. 

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (2:1-8)

At the heart of this passage is a phrase that sums up the entire Bible, is central to Paul's thinking, and above all is central to the history of humanity: "God our Saviour wants all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth" (v. 4). Every word is important: 'God wants': it is the mystery of his will, that plan of mercy that he had already established in himself to bring the times to their fullness, as the letter to the Ephesians says (cf. 1:9-10). God's will is a will for salvation that concerns all people.  Paul insists on the universal dimension of God's plan: "God, our Saviour, wants all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth." In sentences like this, the word "and" can be replaced by "that is"; we must therefore understand: God wants all men to be saved, that is, to come to the full knowledge of the truth. And what is truth? It is that God loves us and is always with us to fill us with his love. To be saved means to know this truth according to the biblical meaning of 'knowing': that is, to live it, to allow ourselves to be loved and transformed by it. As long as people do not know God's love, they remain prisoners, and Christ came to set us free. This is why we find the expression 'he gave himself as a ransom for all' (v. 6): each time, the word 'ransom' can be replaced with 'liberation': believing in God's love for all men and living by this love means being saved. So, true prayer, as Paul says, is entering into God's plan to be able to spread the Gospel like a spark that spreads. In the last sentence, Paul's insistence is not so much about outward appearance, but about the state of mind with which we must present ourselves in prayer: "I want men everywhere to pray, lifting up holy hands without anger or disputing." How can we enter into God's plan of love for all if our hearts are full of anger and evil intentions? Most likely, we can glimpse signs of serious difficulties, opposition, divisions, perhaps even persecution, in the community to which this letter was addressed. We cannot make precise assumptions, since we are not even sure of the date of the letter's composition, nor whether it is entirely by Paul or by one of his disciples. But that does not matter: what matters, in every age and in every difficulty, is that we must never forget that God wants all people to be saved and to come to the full knowledge of the truth, that is, of God's love.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (16:1-13)

This text holds a surprise: Jesus seems to be complimenting the swindlers: 'The master praised that dishonest steward because he had acted shrewdly' (v. 8). Be careful not to misunderstand! Jesus calls him dishonest, that is, wicked, because honesty was part of the most basic morality. Therefore, Jesus' intention is certainly not to go against basic morality, and he is careful to point out that the master praises the man for his shrewdness. If Jesus uses a provocative example, it is to make us reflect on something serious, as the last sentence shows: there is an urgent choice to be made between God and money because one cannot serve both God and money. Jesus lists a series of oppositions: between the children of this world and the children of light, between a small thing and a great thing, between deceitful money and authentic good, between the goods of others and what is truly ours. All these oppositions have a single purpose: to make us discover that money is a deception and that devoting one's life to making money is the wrong path; it is as serious as idolatry, which the prophets have always fought against. In the phrase, 'You cannot serve God and money', the verb 'serve' has a religious meaning. There is only one God: do not make idols, because all idolatry enslaves you, and money can become an end in itself and no longer a means. When you are obsessed with the desire to earn money, you quickly become a slave: it is important to beware of what you possess so that you are not possessed by it, as popular wisdom says. The Sabbath was also instituted to rediscover, once a week, the taste of gratuitousness, a way to remain free. Money is deceptive in two ways: first, it makes us believe that it will ensure our happiness, but one day we will have to leave everything behind. In Jesus' words, the expression 'when it fails' (v. 9) is an allusion to death, and there is certainly no great interest in being the richest person in the cemetery! Furthermore, money deceives us if we think that it belongs only to us. Jesus does not despise money, but puts it at the service of the Kingdom, that is, for the good of others, and no one is its owner, but rather its administrator. If it is true that there is no point in being the richest person in the cemetery, it makes a lot of sense to be rich so that others can benefit from it too. The question "if you have not been faithful with dishonest wealth, who will entrust you with true wealth?" (v. 11) helps us to understand that trust is important in the use of money: God trusts us, entrusts us with money of which we are administrators and responsible. All our wealth, of whatever kind, has been entrusted to us as stewards so that we may share it, transforming it into happiness for those around us. This helps us to better understand the previous parable, the story of the steward threatened with dismissal who, in order to save himself, once again gives gifts from his master's goods to make friends who will welcome him. He was completely dishonest, but he was able to quickly find an ingenious solution to secure his future. The cunning here lies in using money as a means and not as an end. It is therefore not dishonesty that Jesus admires, but skill: what are we waiting for to find creative solutions to secure everyone's future? The thirst for gain makes many people inventive; Jesus would like our passion for justice or peace to make us just as inventive! The day we devote as much time and intelligence to seeking ways of peace, justice and sharing as we devote to accumulating more money than we need, the face of the world will change. Ultimately, the moral of the parable can be summarised as follows: choose God decisively and put the same intelligence that you would use to make money at the service of the Kingdom. The children of light know that money is only a small thing; the Kingdom is the big thing, and that is why they do not serve money as a deity, but use it for the good of all.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Exaltation of the Holy Cross [Sunday, 14 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us!  Contemplating the Mystery of the Cross, we discover the sweetness of a love that is born where life seems to die. As he dies crucified, Jesus reveals forever the definitive victory of Love and Mercy.

*First Reading from the Book of Numbers (21:4–9)

The Book of Exodus and the Book of Numbers recount similar episodes: when the people, freed from slavery in Egypt, walk towards the Promised Land, they must face daily life in the desert, a totally inhospitable place. As slaves in Egypt, they were sedentary, certainly not accustomed to long marches on foot, but they had a master who fed them, so they did not die of hunger as they did in the desert, where they began to regret the famous onions of Egypt.  They were tempted by discouragement due to hunger, thirst and fear of all the inconveniences of the desert, and, disheartened, they began to murmur against God and Moses for leading them to die in the desert. The Lord then sent poisonous snakes against the people, and many Israelites died. At this point, the people repented, acknowledged their sin, and prayed to the Lord to remove the snakes. God commanded Moses to make a snake (tradition says of bronze) so that, when fixed on a pole, it could heal anyone who looked at it. It is interesting to consider how Moses reacted: he did not question whether or not the snakes came from God, but his aim was to lead this distrustful people to an attitude of trust, whatever the difficulties, because it was not so much the snakes as their lack of trust in God that was slowing down their journey to freedom. To educate them in the faith, he uses a familiar practice: the worship of a healing god represented by a bronze serpent on a pole (probably the ancestor of the caduceus, today's symbol of medicine). It was enough to look at the fetish to be healed. Moses does not destroy the tradition, but transforms it: Do as you always have done, but know that it is not the serpent that heals you but the Lord, and do not be confused because one God has freed you from Egypt, and by looking at the serpent, you are actually worshipping the God of the Covenant. Centuries later, the Book of Wisdom would comment: 'Those who turned to look at it were saved, not by the object they looked at, but by you, Saviour of all' (Wis 16:7). The struggle against idolatry, magic and divination runs through the entire biblical history and perhaps continues to this day. That bronze serpent, a sign to lead people to faith, came to be considered a magical object again, and for this reason King Hezekiah destroyed it definitively, as we read in the Book of Kings (2 Kings 18:4).

*Responsorial Psalm (77/78:3-4, 34-39)

In the responsorial psalm, taken from Psalm 77/78, we have a summary of the history of Israel, which unfolds in the relationship between God, who is always faithful, and that fickle people, who are forgetful but still aware of the importance of memory, so they repeat: 'We have heard what our fathers told us, we will repeat it to the next generation'. Faith is transmitted when those who have experienced salvation can say, 'God has saved me,' and in turn share their experience with others. It will then be up to their community to remember and preserve this testimony because faith is an experience of salvation shared over time. The Jewish people have always known that faith is not intellectual baggage, but the common experience of God's ever-renewed gift and forgiveness. This psalm expresses all this: in seventy-two verses, it recalls the experience of salvation that founded the faith of Israel, namely, liberation from Egypt, and for this reason, the psalm contains many allusions to the Exodus and Sinai. Listening in the biblical sense means adhering wholeheartedly to the Word of God, and if a generation neglects to continue to bear witness to its faithfulness to God, the chain of transmission of faith is broken. Often over the centuries, fathers have confessed to their children that they have murmured against God despite his acts of salvation. This is what the psalm speaks of and accuses the people of unfaithfulness and inconstancy: "They flattered him with their mouths, but murmured with their tongues; their hearts were not steadfast towards him, and they were not faithful to his covenant" (vv. 36-37). This is idolatry, the target of all prophets because it is the cause of humanity's misfortune. Every idol sets us back on the path to freedom, and the definition of an idol is precisely what prevents us from being free. Marx said that religion is the opium of the people, revealing in a crude way the power and manipulation that any religion, whatever it may be, can exert over humanity. Superstition, fetishism and witchcraft prevent us from being free and learning to freely assume our responsibilities, because they make us live in a regime of fear. Every idolatrous cult distances us from the living and true God: only the truth can make us free men. Even the excessive worship of a person or an ideology makes us slaves: just think of all the fundamentalisms and fanaticisms that disfigure us, and money too can very well become an idol. In other verses that are not part of this Sunday's liturgy, the psalm offers a very eloquent image, that of a deformed bow: the heart of Israel should be like a bow stretched towards its God, but it is crooked. And it is precisely within this ingratitude that Israel had its most beautiful experience: that of God's forgiveness, as the psalm clearly states: "Their heart was not steadfast toward him; they were not faithful to his covenant. But he, being merciful, forgave  their iniquity instead of destroying them" (v. 38). This description of  God's tender mercy shows that the psalm was written at a time when the revelation of the God of love had already deeply penetrated the faith of Israel. 

NOTE The great assembly at Shechem organised by Joshua had precisely this purpose: to revive the memory of this people who were the object of so much concern, but so often inclined to forget (Joshua 24: see the 20th Sunday in Ordinary Time B): after reminding the assembled tribes of all God's works since Abraham, he said to them: "Choose today whom you will serve: either the Lord or an idol." And the tribes made the right choice that day, even if they would soon forget it. The transmission of faith is therefore like a relay race: "I have passed on to you what I myself have received," Paul says to the Corinthians (1 Cor 11:23), and the liturgy is the privileged place for this witness and for this reviving of memory in the sense of gratitude that comes from experience.

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Philippians (2:6-1)

This passage from Paul is read every year on Palm Sunday and now on the Feast of the Glorious Cross: this means that the two celebrations have something in common, which is the close link between Christ's suffering and his glory, between the lowering of the cross and the exaltation of the resurrection. Paul says it clearly: 'Christ humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross... Therefore God exalted him above all else' (vv. 8-9). The expression 'therefore' indicates a strong link and contrast between humiliation and exaltation, but we must not read these sentences in terms of reward, as if Jesus, having behaved admirably, received an admirable reward. This could be the 'tendency' or rather the 'temptation', but God is love and knows no calculations, exchanges, or quid pro quo, because love is free. The wonder of God's love is that it does not wait for our merits to fill us, and in the Bible, men discovered this little by little because grace, as its name indicates, is free. So, if, as Paul says, Jesus suffered and was then glorified, it is not because his suffering had accumulated enough merit to earn him the right to be rewarded. Therefore, to be faithful to the text, we must read it in terms of gratuitousness. For Paul, it is clear that God's gift is free, and this is evident in all his letters, having experienced it himself. When we read, 'Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited' (v. 6), it is clear that Paul is alluding to Adam and Eve, and here Paul probably offers us a commentary on the story of the Garden of Eden: the tempter had said, 'You will be like God', and to become like God, all they had to do was disobey God. Eve reached out her hand towards the forbidden fruit and took it (the Greek labousa in theological reading is 'claimed to be like God' as if it were her right). Paul contrasts the attitude of Adam/Eve (grabbing/avenging) with that of Christ (welcoming freely, obeying). Jesus Christ was only acceptance (what Paul calls 'obedience'), and precisely because he was pure acceptance of God's gift and not vindication, he was able to let himself be filled by the Father, completely available to his gift. Jesus' choice is 'kenosis', the total emptying of himself marked by five verbs of humiliation: emptying himself, taking on the condition of a servant, becoming like men, humbling himself, becoming obedient. The cross is the abyss of annihilation (vv. 6-8), but also the climax of the second sentence of the hymn (vv. 9-11). 'God exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name' (v. 9). Jesus receives the Name that is above every name: the name 'Lord' is the name of God! To say that Jesus is Lord is to say that he is God: in the Old Testament, the title of Lord was reserved for God, as was genuflection. When Paul says, "For at the name of Jesus every knee should bend," he is alluding to a phrase from the prophet Isaiah: "Before me every knee shall bend, and every tongue shall swear allegiance" (Isaiah 45:23). The hymn concludes with 'every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father' (v. 11): seeing Christ bring love to its culmination, accepting to die to reveal the extent of God's love, we can say like the centurion: 'Truly this man was the Son of God'... because God is love.

*From the Gospel according to John (3:13-17)

The first surprise in this text is that Jesus speaks of the cross in positive, even 'glorious' terms: on the one hand, he uses the term 'lifted up' – 'the Son of Man must be lifted up' (v. 14) – and then this cross, which in our eyes is an instrument of torture and pain, is presented as proof of God's love: 'God so loved the world' (v. 17). How can the instrument of torture of an innocent person be glorious? And here lies the second surprise: the reference to the bronze serpent. Jesus uses this image because it was well known at the time. The first reading speaks at length about this event in the Sinai desert during the Exodus, following Moses. The Jews were attacked by poisonous snakes and, having a guilty conscience because they had murmured, they were convinced that this was a punishment from the God of Moses. They begged Moses to intercede, and Moses was commanded to fix a fiery (i.e., poisonous) serpent on a pole: whoever had been bitten and looked at it would live (Num 21:7-9). At first glance, it seems like pure magic, but in reality, it is exactly the opposite. Moses transforms what was until then a magical act into an act of faith. Jesus refers to this episode when speaking of himself: 'Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life' (vv. 14-15). If in the desert it was enough to look with faith towards the God of the Covenant to be physically healed, now it is necessary to look with faith at Christ on the cross to obtain inner healing. As is often the case in John's Gospel, the theme of faith returns: "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life" (v. 17).  When Jesus draws a parallel between the bronze serpent raised up in the desert and his own elevation on the cross, he also reveals the extraordinary leap that exists between the Old and New Testaments. Jesus brings everything to fulfilment, but in him everything takes on a new dimension. In the desert, only the people of the Covenant were involved; now, in him, the whole of humanity is invited to believe in order to have life: twice Jesus repeats that "whoever believes in him will have eternal life". Moreover, it is no longer just a matter of external healing, but of the profound transformation of man. At the moment of the crucifixion, John writes: 'They will look upon him whom they have pierced' (Jn 19:37), quoting the prophet Zechariah who had written: "On that day I will pour out on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem a spirit of grace and supplication; they will look upon me, the one they have pierced" (Zechariah 12:10). This "spirit of grace and supplication" is the opposite of the murmuring in the desert: man is now finally convinced of God's love for him.  There are therefore two ways of looking at the cross of Christ: as a sign of human hatred and cruelty, but above all as the emblem of the meekness and forgiveness of Christ, who accepts the cross to show us the extent of God's love for humanity. The cross is the very place where God's love is revealed: "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9), Jesus said to Philip. Christ crucified shows God's tenderness, despite the hatred of men. That is why we can say that the cross is glorious: because it is the place where perfect love is manifested, that is, God himself, a God great enough to make himself small in order to share the life of men despite misunderstanding and hatred: he does not flee from his executioners and forgives from the height of the Cross. Those who accept to fall to their knees before such greatness are transformed forever: "But to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to become children of God, to those who believe in his name" (Jn 1:12).

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [7 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! In this Sunday's Gospel, Jesus develops the 'precautionary principle', which is also enshrined in Article 191 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU). This proves that the Word of God is divine wisdom which, as we understand in the first reading and in the responsorial psalm, illuminates every human choice and decision.  Wisdom that is always the secret of true happiness.

*First Reading from the Book of Wisdom (9:13-18)

Wisdom, in the biblical sense, is in some ways the art of living. Israel, like all neighbouring peoples, developed extensive reflection on this theme beginning with the reign of Solomon, and its contribution in this field is entirely original. It can be summarised in two points: first of all, according to the Bible, only God knows the secrets of happiness, and if man claims to discover them on his own, he follows false paths, as is clear from the lesson of the Garden of Eden. Secondly, God alone reveals the secret of happiness to his people and to all humanity: this is the message of this text, which is above all a lesson in humility. Isaiah had already stated that God's thoughts and ways are different from ours (cf. Is 55:8), and the book of Wisdom, written much later in a very different style, repeats: 'Who can discover the will of God? Who can imagine what the Lord wants?" (v. 13). We cannot have the slightest idea of what God thinks, and we know only what He has communicated through His prophets. Job had asked where to seek wisdom, because it does not exist on the earth of the living, and only God knows where it is (cf. Job 28:12-13, 23); shortly afterwards, God reminds Job of his limitations (chapters 38–41) and, at the end of the demonstration, Job bows down and admits that he spoke without understanding  the wonders that "are beyond me and that I did not know" (Job 42:3). In the Book of Wisdom, the discussion on human knowledge develops among the most intellectual minds that existed in Alexandria, when scientific and philosophical disciplines were highly developed and the Library of Alexandria was famous. The author reminds these scholars of the limits of human knowledge: 'The reasoning of mortals is timid, and our reflections are uncertain' (v. 14). And again: 'We can scarcely imagine the things of the earth, we discover with difficulty those within our reach; but who has investigated the things of heaven? (v. 16). The author does not mean that if we can discover the earth, we will be able to understand heavenly things, but he affirms that it is not only a question of the level of knowledge, as if man could discover the mysteries of God through reasoning and research, but it is a question of nature: we are only human, and there is an abyss between God and us, God being the Totally Other and his thoughts being beyond our reach. Herein lies the second lesson of the text: if we recognise our powerlessness, God himself reveals to us what we cannot discover on our own, giving us the gift of his Spirit (cf. 1:9). The other readings for this Sunday indicate the new behaviours inspired by the Spirit who dwells in us. One more observation: in verse 14, 'a corruptible body weighs down the soul, and the clay tent oppresses a mind full of worries', we see a conception of man that is unusual in the Bible, which usually insists on the unity of the human being, whereas here he is described as a being composed of an immaterial spirit and a material shell that contains it. The Book of Wisdom, written in a Greek context, uses this vocabulary so as not to scandalise its Greek readers, but it certainly does not want to describe a dualism of the human being: rather, it presents the inner struggle that takes place in each of us and which St Paul describes as follows: 'I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want' (Rom 7:19). Ultimately, this text makes an original contribution to a great dual biblical discovery: God is both Totally Other and Totally Near. God is Totally Other: 'Who can know the will of God? Who can imagine what the Lord wants?' (v. 13). At the same time, He makes Himself Totally Near by giving man wisdom and His Holy Spirit (v. 17). And so men were instructed in what is pleasing to God and were saved through wisdom (cf. v. 18).

*Responsorial Psalm (89/90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14, 17)

The first reading, taken from the book of Wisdom, is echoed in this psalm, which offers a magnificent definition of wisdom: 'Teach us to count our days, and we will gain a wise heart' (v. 12). These verses give an idea of the general atmosphere, and one expression sounds quite unusual: 'Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants' (v. 13). It is as if to say: 'We are unhappy at this moment, we are being punished for our sins; forgive us and take away the punishment', a typical formula of a penitential liturgy in the context of a penitential ceremony in the temple of Jerusalem. Why does Israel ask for forgiveness? The first verses suggest the answer: 'You turn man back to dust, when you say: Return, children of man' (v. 3).  The problem is that our condition as sinners is linked to Adam, and the entire psalm meditates on the account of Adam's sin in the book of Genesis. In the beginning, God and man stood face to face: God, the creator, and man, his creature made from dust. The second verse (absent here) of the psalm says precisely: 'Before the mountains were born and the earth and the world were created, from everlasting to everlasting, you are God'. Before Him, we are but a handful of dust in His hands. Yet man dared to challenge God and can only meditate on his true condition: "The years of our life are seventy, eighty for the strongest, and their bustling is toil and disappointment; they pass quickly and we fly away" (v. 10).  And we are truly small: "A thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, like a watch in the night" (v. 4), as St Peter comments: "Do not ignore this one fact, beloved: with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day" (2 Pet 3:8). After this realisation comes the plea: “Teach us to count our days, that we may gain a wise heart. Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants. Satisfy us in the morning with your love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days” (vv. 12-14). True wisdom is to remain small before God, and the psalm compares human life to grass that “in the morning it flourishes and sprouts, in the evening it is mown and withers” (v. 6). How often, when faced with sudden death, do we say that we are nothing! It is not a matter of humbling ourselves, but of being realistic and remaining serene in God’s hands. 'Satisfy us in the morning with your love: we will exult and rejoice all our days' (v. 14): this is the experience of the believer, aware of his own smallness and trusting in the hands of God, to whom we can ask that 'you make known to your servants your work and your splendour to their children. May the goodness of the Lord our God be upon us" (vv. 16-17a). Even more daring is the last verse of the psalm, which repeats twice, "Make firm the work of our hands" (v. 17). Perhaps the psalmist was referring to the reconstruction of the temple in Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile, amid all kinds of opposition. More generally, however, it expresses the common work of God and man in the fulfilment of creation: man works in creation, but it is God who gives human work stability and effectiveness. 

*Second Reading from the letter of St Paul the Apostle to Philemon (9b-10.12-17)

On previous Sundays, we read passages from Paul's letter to the Colossians; today, however, Paul, while in prison, writes to Philemon, a Christian from Colossae (in Turkey), and it is a personal letter, full of diplomacy, on a very delicate subject. Philemon probably had several slaves, although history does not specify this, and one of them was called Onesimus. One fine day, Onesimus ran away, which was totally forbidden and severely punished by Roman law because slaves belonged to their masters as objects and were not free to dispose of themselves. During his escape, Onesimus met Paul, converted and entered the apostle's service. It was a complicated situation: if Paul kept Onesimus, he would be complicit in his abandonment of his post, and Philemon would not like that. If, on the other hand, Paul sent him back, the slave would be at serious risk, as Paul acknowledges later in the letter that Onesimus was indebted to his master. However, he decided to send Onesimus back with a request for forgiveness, in which he used all his powers of persuasion to convince Philemon: 'I, Paul, as I am, an old man and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus, appeal to you for my child Onesimus' (vv. 9-10). He points out that he would like to keep him, but he knows that the final decision rests with Philemon (vv. 12-14), so he does not intend to force Philemon's hand. However, he knows exactly what he wants to achieve and reveals it gradually. First of all, he asks Philemon to forgive Onesimus for running away, and more than simple forgiveness, Paul suggests a true conversion: Onesimus is baptised and is now a brother to Philemon, a Christian and his former master: "For this reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave, but much more than a slave, as a beloved brother" (vv. 15-16). Paul goes even further: "If you consider me a friend, welcome him as you would welcome me" (v. 17).

*From the Gospel according to Luke (14:25-33)

The ending illuminates the whole discourse: emphasising totality (the renunciation of all his possessions, v. 33), Luke re-proposes his theology of poverty as radical discipleship of Christ. Let us begin with the phrase concerning family ties (v. 26): Jesus does not say to consider them as nothing, because that would be contrary to all his teaching on love and to the commandment "Honour your father and your mother". Rather, he means that these ties are good, but they must not become obstacles that prevent us from following Christ because the bond that unites us to Christ through Baptism is stronger than any other earthly bond. The difficulty of this Gospel lies elsewhere: at first glance, the connection between the different parts is not clear. Jesus says: "If anyone comes to me and does not love me (in Eastern Semitic language, 'to hate' also means 'to love less') more than his father, his mother... he cannot be my disciple" (v. 26), a phrase that we find echoed (included) in the last one: "Anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple". Between these two statements there are two short parables: that of the man who wants to build a tower and that of the king who goes to war. Their lesson is similar: whoever wants to build a tower must first calculate the cost so as not to embark on a senseless undertaking; in the same way, the king who plans to go to war must first assess his forces. Wisdom consists in adapting one's ambitions to one's possibilities: a truth that applies in every area. How many projects fail because they are started too hastily without reflection, foresight and calculation of the risks? This is elementary wisdom, the secret of success. In fact, to govern is to foresee, and perhaps one becomes an adult on the day one finally learns to calculate the consequences of one's actions. But does this not seem to contradict the message of the phrases that open and close Jesus' discourse? These seem to speak a language that is anything but prudent and measured: first of all, to be a disciple of Christ, one must prefer him to anyone else and follow him with all one's heart, yet wisdom and even justice require respect for natural ties with family and environment. The second requirement is to carry one's cross decisively, accepting the risk of persecution, and the third condition is to renounce all one's possessions. In short, to leave behind all emotional and material security for Christ. But is all this prudent? Does it not seem far removed from the arithmetic calculations of the two short parables? Yet it is clear that Jesus does not enjoy cultivating paradoxes and does not contradict himself. It is therefore up to us to understand his message and how the two short parables shed light on the choices we must make in order to follow him. On closer inspection, Jesus always says the same thing: before embarking on an undertaking, whether it be following him, building a tower or going to war, he invites us to do our sums carefully and not to make mistakes. Those who build a tower calculate the cost; those who go to war assess the number of men and weapons; and those who follow Christ must also do their calculations, but of a different kind: they must renounce anything that might hinder them and thus place all their riches, both emotional and material, at the service of the Kingdom. Above all, they must rely on the power of the Spirit who 'continues his work in the world and brings every sanctification to completion', as the fourth Eucharistic prayer says. Here too, it is a calculated risk: in order to follow Jesus, he points out the risks to us — knowing how to leave everything behind, accepting misunderstanding and sometimes persecution, renouncing immediate gratification. To be Christians, the true calculation, the true wisdom, is not to rely on any of our earthly securities; it is as if he were saying to us: Accept that you have no securities: my grace is enough for you! Already the first reading, taken from the book of Wisdom, clearly stated this: the wisdom of God is not that of men; what appears to be folly in the eyes of men is the only true wisdom before God. With him, we are always in the logic of the grain of wheat: accept to die underground, but only in this way can it sprout and bear fruit. Blessed are those who know how to free themselves from false precautions in order to prepare themselves to pass through the narrow gate mentioned in the Gospel of the twenty-first Sunday (Lk 13:24). 

NOTE Jesus develops here the 'precautionary principle' which is also enshrined in Article 191 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU). In the two parables, it is clear that we must sit down to calculate risks and costs, taking preventive measures - even in the absence of complete scientific evidence. In the case of the disciple, the data for the calculation are completely different: Jesus wants us to evaluate well that our only wealth is in him and our only strength is his grace. And even the assessment of risks and objectives eludes us: as the Book of Wisdom says in the first reading: 'Who can know the will of God? Who can imagine what the Lord wants? The reasoning of mortals is timid and our reflections uncertain'.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole