24th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [13 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Sirach (27:30–28:7)

In the teachings of the wise Ben Sira, who lived around 180 BC, shortly before the birth of Jesus, one can sense the gradual discovery of forgiveness in the Old Testament. Indeed, the Bible can be seen as God’s patient endeavour, through the prophets, to root out vengeance from our hearts. Cain was avenged seven times, and after him the spiral of violence had become so widespread that Lamech boasted of taking vengeance seventy times seven. It took a patient effort, through the laws and the preaching of the prophets, to reverse this trend. Ben Sira stands at the end of this chain of vengeance and highlights Israel’s realisation of how to bring it to an end. In today’s text, Ben Sira draws on three useful considerations to preach forgiveness.  First of all, we must not forget God’s constant faithfulness towards his people, who have, on the other hand, often been unfaithful to him. Furthermore, if you wish to observe God’s commandments, you cannot harbour a grudge against your neighbour, for the commandment to love your neighbour as yourself implies the ability to forgive. And finally, if we were to reflect on our own death, we would readily renounce all forms of hatred and vengeance. Ben Sira says: ‘This is why the Lord is patient with them and pours out his mercy upon them; he sees and knows that their lot is a painful one, for he abounds in forgiveness. Human mercy concerns one’s neighbour, whilst the Lord’s mercy concerns every living being (Sir 18:11–13). The wise man urges us to move beyond offences.  Moreover, in the phrase ‘the man who takes revenge will experience God’s vengeance’, there is a concrete truth that touches us deeply. It is these small steps in the spirit of mercy that prepare us to receive God’s mercy; and indeed, how can we imagine that God would be merciful towards us if we refuse even the smallest gesture of forgiveness towards others?  Finally, the last verse: ‘Remember the commandments and do not hate your neighbour’ leads us to reflect on the words of Jesus on the cross: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’. It makes us realise that sometimes we do wrong without considering all the consequences, and divine forgiveness even goes so far as to suggest that we do wrong out of ignorance. The Ecumenical Translation of the Bible offers this rendering of the verse (28:7): ‘Remember God’s covenant and look beyond the offence’ – a beautiful definition of forgiveness. Of course, one cannot erase an offence, but one must know how to move beyond it. After a wound, the skin retains a scar, and it is the same for emotional wounds, for nothing can erase slander, a gesture of contempt or infidelity. Words and behaviour bear poisonous fruit, and one cannot simply turn back as if nothing had happened. As Ben Sira says, moving beyond does not mean ignoring the past, but trying to mend a relationship torn apart by an offence, whilst accepting the possibility of a new future. The word ‘forgiveness’ – ‘for’ and ‘gift’ – tells us that forgiveness which goes beyond the offence is possible, and that perfect forgiveness is, ultimately, the work of the Holy Spirit. 

Responsorial Psalm (102/103)

Psalm 102/103 contains 22 verses, as many as there are letters in the Hebrew alphabet. For this reason, it is called an alphabetic psalm and belongs to the tradition of psalms of thanksgiving for the Covenant. It is a great hymn of gratitude to God for all his gifts and blessings. Another feature of the psalm is its parallelism: each verse consists of two phrases that echo and complement one another, almost like a dialogue between two choirs. This style of expression is very common in the Bible and served both to aid memorisation and to deepen the meaning of the words. In the first verse, ‘Bless the Lord, O my soul; bless his holy Name, O my whole being’, the parallelism helps us to understand two important things. Firstly, in the Bible, the Name refers to the person himself: to bless the Name of the Lord therefore means to bless God in his entirety. Secondly, the word ‘soul’ does not simply refer to a spiritual part of a person as opposed to the body. In the biblical mindset, a person is seen as a unified being: ‘soul’ therefore means the whole person, one’s entire being. The psalm then emphasises God’s mercy: ‘He does not hold a grudge for ever, nor does he harbour his anger for ever. He does not treat us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities’. God does not follow the logic of ‘quid pro quo’, nor that of punishment proportionate to the offence. His logic is one of gratuitousness and mercy. The Bible shows how Israel gradually discovered the true face of God: not a God who keeps a record of our sins, but a God who is ‘gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love’ (Ex 34:6). This is the great biblical revelation: God is completely different from our human notions of justice and judgement. For this reason, even the expression ‘fear of God’ must be understood correctly. It does not mean being afraid of God. When we discover that God is a merciful Father, full of tenderness, fear can be transformed into a filial attitude. The fear of God, in the biblical sense, is therefore a profound respect combined with trust, gratitude and the desire to follow his will. It is like a child who listens to his father when he tells him not to go near the fire: he obeys not because he is afraid of his father, but because he knows that his father loves him and wants to protect him. The Psalm itself expresses this with a beautiful image: ‘As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him.’ The spiritual journey therefore consists in transforming fear into trust, to the point of living before God as beloved children. God does not ask us for flawless perfection: when we fall, his mercy allows us to start again. His tenderness ‘passes over’ our sins and lifts us up again. It is the same tenderness that Jesus will show in the parable of the Merciful Father and the Prodigal Son. In summary: Psalm 102/103 invites us to bless God with our whole being and to recognise that his love is far greater than our faults. True ‘fear of God’ is not terror, but trust, respect and filial love. With God, we can always start afresh, because his mercy never fails.

A reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (14:7–9)

The central phrase of the text is ‘We belong to the Lord. None of us lives for ourselves, and none of us dies for ourselves’ (Rom 14:7). Saint Paul reminds us that we are not isolated individuals, independent of one another. Across time and space, we are deeply united. God’s plan is for humanity to be so united as to become one in Christ, a unity founded on the death and resurrection of Jesus, who has become ‘Lord of the dead and the living’. The problem is that divisions can arise even amongst Christians. In Paul’s time, the disputes centred mainly on dietary rules: some Christians, coming from a Jewish background, were very strict; others, coming from the pagan world, were more relaxed. Paul urges everyone not to judge one another: ‘Who are you to judge another’s servant?’ (Romans 14:4). The essential thing is not that we all have the same customs in living out our faith. What matters is that we all belong to Christ. Even today, divisions can arise from liturgical issues or from differing social and political views, because those who share the same faith and the same Baptism may make different choices. For Paul, no one should feel entitled to judge another: rather, each person should sincerely seek to serve the Lord according to their own conscience: ‘Whoever eats, eats for the Lord, for they give thanks to God; and whoever does not eat, does so for the Lord and gives thanks to God.’ This means that there is no single way to give thanks to God, and the same faith can be expressed in different ways. The true ‘spiritual sacrifice’ consists in offering one’s whole self to God, with sincerity and love, each person doing so according to what they consider right, in different and even opposing ways; but what matters is the sincere desire to serve God. Paul points out what must remain at the heart of the Christian life: ‘The kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking, but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit’ (Romans 14:17). We must seek what builds up the community, fosters peace and strengthens relationships; and the fundamental rule is mutual love: ‘Hold one another in high esteem’. This is the central message: Baptism makes us all belong to Christ, and for this reason our differences — in religious practices, sensibilities, and social or political choices — must not become a cause for judgement and division. What unites us is far more important than what divides us, and Christian maturity consists in respecting those who live their faith differently from us, refraining from judging them, knowing that we are all called to build peace, unity, respect and love, since ‘none of us lives for ourselves’: indeed, we all belong to the Lord.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (18:21–35)

The Gospel presents the parable of the unforgiving servant in three stages. 1. The king forgives the debt: a parable about God’s gratuitous love, which surpasses all our calculations. A servant had incurred an enormous debt to the king, one that was impossible to repay; according to the laws of the time, he and his family should have been imprisoned. The man, however, begged the king for patience and, moved to compassion, the king not only granted him more time but also forgave the debt entirely: ‘You owe me nothing more’. 2. The servant who cannot forgive. The same servant, as soon as he left, met a man who owed him a very small sum compared to what had been forgiven him; yet, instead of showing mercy, he immediately demanded payment and had him thrown into prison. He had received an immense gift, but was incapable of granting others even a small fraction of what he had received. For this reason, the king rebukes him: ‘Shouldn’t you too have shown mercy to your fellow servant, just as I showed mercy to you?’ 3. Forgiving without keeping score. Peter asks Jesus: ‘Lord, how many times must I forgive my brother? Up to seven times?’ Jesus replies: ‘Not seven times, but seventy times seven’, that is, without limit. Forgiveness must not become a matter of keeping score: we must not count how many times we have already forgiven or determine the limits of our obligation to do so. Jesus overturns the logic of the story of Cain and Lamech, where vengeance begets further vengeance and violence multiplies without end. Jesus sets Lamech’s boundless vengeance against boundless forgiveness; and so, in the Bible, God progressively leads humanity out of the spiral of violence: from the law of retaliation (an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth), which at least limits vengeance, we arrive at the discovery of forgiveness—a revelation that reaches its full fulfilment in the sacrifice of the Cross. But why does the servant in the parable forfeit the benefit of what he had received? Not because God ceases to give, but because our hearts can become incapable of receiving and passing on what they receive. It is like soil that has become dry and impermeable, where even a heavy downpour cannot penetrate it because it must first be tilled. In the same way, learning to forgive opens our hearts and makes us ready to receive once more what God offers us. A heart closed off by resentment becomes incapable of allowing itself to be transformed. The servant should have been so deeply grateful for the debt that had been forgiven him that he would not have refused his fellow servant’s request. The central point of the parable is that those who recognise what they have received become capable of giving it on in turn. We see this too in the episode of the woman caught in adultery (John 8). The accusers arrive with stones in their hands, ready to stone her; Jesus invites them first to look within themselves, and one by one they leave, starting with the elders, no longer feeling authorised to judge the adulteress because they are aware of their own frailty. The scene thus completes the message of this Sunday’s parable: before condemning another, remember that you too live thanks to God’s patience and goodness. A Christian is not someone who never makes mistakes, but someone who, having experienced the possibility of a fresh start, offers that same opportunity to others. We are truly converted when what we receive from God transforms the way we treat others.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Mt 18:21-35)

Throughout the ancient Middle East, non-disproportionate retaliation one to one [not cruel] was a sacred law.

Forgiveness was a humiliating and absurd attitude, an incomprehensible principle to anyone experiencing any injustice.

Conversely, in the dynamic of Faith, forgiveness becomes a power, which not only makes the air breathable, but activates our personal destiny.

Peter instead wants to know the limits of forgiveness (v.21).

Historically, at the end of the first century the picky, severe, style of the synagogue and of the Empire [«divide et impera»] reappear in believers. 

A question arises: will we have to stop welcoming?

In addition, in the same churches one begins to think that someone has sinned in lese majesty towards those who - now hard and heartless - are used to being revered.

Veterans who make trouble more than others and then dot on the minutiae of others (the weak brothers, considered subjected and destined to the fiscal rigour of moralisms, as well as penances).

While religious discipline exacerbates minute defects, the very experience of the disproportion between the forgiveness received from the Father and what we are able to offer to the brothers, makes us understand the need for tolerance.

Church should be this space of the experience of God who return life, an alternative place of fraternity.

Imperial society was harsh and uncompassionate, with no room for the small and shaky, who unassumingly sought any refuge for their hearts - but no religion gave them an answer.

Synagogues, too, identified material and spiritual blessings. Cloaked with requirements, purity rules and fulfilments, they did not offer the warmth of a welcoming place for the weak.

The issue was that in the early Christian communities themselves, some people insisted on the rigour of norms, customs and hierarchies, demanding coexistence based on the Judaizing model.

Furthermore, as the Letter of James testifies, towards the end of the first century the identical divisions of society, between miserables and wealthy, were already beginning to manifest themselves in the churches of Christ!

Welcoming space of the communities that in the Spirit had been given the task by the Lord to enlighten the world with their seed of life as a ‘shelter for all’ (and of alternative relationships) ran the risk of becoming again a place of conflict, judgement, punishment, condemnation.

«So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if you do not condone each one to his own brother from your heart» (v.35).

Divine forgiveness becomes effective and evident only in the testimony of the Church (v.35) where sisters and brothers - instead of showing themselves to be meticulous, let themselves be guided by a Vision of new heavens and new earth.

For this reason - without any effort, indeed blessing the needs of others as territories of preparatory energies - they live the communion of resources and remit even material debts, a misery.

Otherwise, we would always have to live in the incumbency of an indulgent God perhaps, but at times, and according to the cases retracting the doing of mercy.

It would be a life without surprising developments, all weighted down in a swamp of little pennies.

Instead, it is the active energy of the Faith that does not condemn us to trudge.

The magnanimity that comes out of the automatisms shifts our gaze and brings us an ineffable and growing wave, far ahead of what we can imagine.

Our surrenders are preparing new developments - the ones that count, without limitations.

The "win-or-lose" alternative is false: you have to get out of it.

[24th Sunday in O.T. (year A), September 13, 2026]

(Mt 18:21-35)

Throughout the ancient Middle East, disproportionate retaliation (one for one, not cruel) was sacred law.

Forgiveness was a humiliating and absurd attitude, an incomprehensible principle for anyone who experienced injustice or tragedy.

Conversely, in the dynamic of faith, forgiveness becomes a power that not only makes the air breathable, but also activates our personal destiny.

The Gospel according to Matthew devotes considerable attention to the theme of forgiveness and the need to heal internal divisions within the Church, where everyone seems to want to crush the other, even if only out of spiritual envy.

One wonders: is there a different counterpart to the pagan principle of retributive justice [uncuique jus suum], which, taken to extremes, ends up accentuating divisions?

What is the most reasonable behaviour for those who have been welcomed by God and forgiven in an exorbitant way?

It is not enough to counterpose a good-natured, even noble, but for this very reason out of proportion value, if it excludes the time of a journey, the horizon of development that ultimately supplants [and not simply overlooks: the so-called 'being positive'].

The only solution free of dormant revenge is to have a sense of the immeasurable, of gratuitous forbearance – received without merit or conditions – in view of new paths.

We must first of all realise that the decisive element in overcoming obstacles is not our strength or an induced voluntarism, which tears us and our brothers apart and destroys the atmosphere of conviviality.

Only a dizzying emotion can integrate our impulses and all our affections, and bring to the surface the seeds of passions that make us dizzy.

Personal or external ecstasies; unknown and neglected or unexpressed, to which we have not yet given space.

In fact, in our daily lives, it seems normal to react immediately and violate situations with impudence, then raise hell over minor transgressions by others - even claiming to suffocate those responsible for trifles.

Obviously, even immediately after we have begged and promised in the ritual.

Matthew offers even paradoxical nuances on forgiveness, always placing his catechesis on a priceless level, in the perspective of spousal and creative faith.

He insists on this in several passages because the communities he addresses are very poor, still rooted in the narrow-mindedness of ancient religiosity.

As happens not only in groups linked to the baggage of the tradition of the 'fathers' - not of the Father - the members of the communities of Galilee and Syria experienced the normality of disagreements, different opinions and all conflicts as an affront.

It seems incredible, but those who feel they possess a licence of immunity [linked to futuristic myths or sacred inhibitions, outdated restraints and observances or cosmic projects of abstract subversion] find it more difficult to enter into the minute logic of coexistence, of confrontation - of disproportion, of boundlessness, of the Gift that favours coexistence itself.

Peter wants to know the limits of forgiveness (v. 21).

Historically, at the end of the first century, the scrupulous, severe style of the synagogue and the Empire ['divide and rule'] had reappeared among believers.

The question arose and was raised again: should we stop welcoming?

In addition, within the churches themselves, people began to think that some had committed lese majesty against those who, now hardened and heartless, were accustomed to being revered.

Veterans who did more than others and then nitpicked at the minutiae of others (the weak brothers, considered subordinates and destined for the fiscal rigour of moralism and penance).

Does the insolvent debtor of the Gospel take it out on those who owe him a few pennies?

The excessive forgiveness of the living and true God can only be manifested to the world through a community that raises grudges and relationships to a new level - simply a more normal one.

The Tao Te Ching (x) says: 'Let creatures live and nourish them, let them live and do not keep them as your own; work and expect nothing, let them grow and do not govern them. This is the mysterious virtue'.

In commentary, Master Wang Pi writes: 'The Tao never acts, creatures transform themselves. Do not obstruct their source, do not hinder their nature. Creatures grow and satisfy themselves by themselves'.

Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'The Tao makes the ten thousand creatures grow and nourishes them, but does not harm them by governing them as if they were instruments. The implementation of virtue by the Tao is mysterious and obscure, and cannot be scrutinised. It wants to induce men to be like the Tao'.

Even today, legalistic practice exaggerates minor faults, but the very experience of the disproportion between the forgiveness received from the Father and what we are able to offer to our brothers and sisters makes us understand the need for indulgence.

Tolerance lived in a situation, not just in principle.

Even more so in times of global crisis, the Church should be this space of experience of God who restores life. An alternative place of fraternity that is less cheap, less sophisticated.

Imperial society was harsh and without compassion, with no room for the small and weak, who without too many pretensions sought any refuge for their hearts - but no religion responded to their need for understanding.

Even the synagogues identified material and spiritual blessings. Shrouded in prior requirements, purity rules and obligations, they did not offer the warmth of a welcoming place for the weak.

The trouble was that in the early Christian communities themselves, some insisted on strict rules.

They demanded that people live together according to the Jewish model or according to rigid, abstract principles that had no real meaning.

Furthermore, as the letter of James shows, towards the end of the first century, the same divisions that existed in society were beginning to appear in the churches of Christ, between the poor and the wealthy!

The welcoming space of the communities that had been given the task by the Lord in the Spirit to enlighten the world with their seed of life as Houses for all, of alternative relationships, was in danger of becoming once again a place of conflict, judgement, punishment and condemnation.

As usual: no Good News for the least, who were exhausted everywhere. 

And this unspeakable climate sowed death even for others, even those who were more fortunate but trapped in harsh reality.

What to do?

The fundamental educational function of the Church is still to include; to make people understand that the initiative can only come from the creditor (vv. 21-22, 27, 33): he too is one of the 'lost' (v. 25).

Only through an intimate awareness of the Faith can we overcome the ruthlessness of competition and retributive justice.

There is no wisdom in being pretentious and unforgiving just to feel important (vv. 28-30).

Our failures are preparing new developments - those that matter, without limitations.

"So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart" (v. 35).

Divine forgiveness becomes effective and evident in the witness of the Church, where sisters and brothers, instead of being petty, are moved to help one another.

They allow themselves to be guided by a vision of new heavens and a new earth.

For this reason, without any effort, indeed blessing the needs of others as territories of preparatory energies, they live in communion of resources and forgive even material debts, which are ultimately a poverty.

Otherwise, we would always have to live under the burden of a God of retribution.

And in this way we would reveal him: perhaps indulgent, but only for a time; a God who withdraws his mercy, as Pope Francis would say.

Thus, we would live under the lash of our tormentors, who advocate a way of life that is proper but artificial, made up of unimaginative exchanges.

An anticipated hell of pettiness, which underestimates and ridicules the Measure of the Gospel. Good News that goes hand in hand with differences.

Even the balancing of remissions would not save us from the offence (this one truly enormous) of stagnation that levels essences - and therefore from ruin.

It is beautiful and fruitful to live in the imbalance of gratuitousness, rather than in giving and receiving. This also happens with God.

Through forgiveness, we not only improve the obsessive atmosphere and attest to our belief - e.g. in the Cross - but we also build a flexible and malleable experience, full of recovery and being. 

Amazement; openness, flexibility, disproportion.

The rest remains mere commentary.

Echoes of a subject that trivially proposes to ratify the 'contract'.

Traces of an environment that remains where it is - until new forces take over.

It would be a life without wonderful developments, weighed down by the 'do ut des' and the swamp of small change.

Instead, it is the active energy of Faith that overcomes defined agreements. And it does not condemn us to struggle.

The ever-increasing magnanimity that emerges from automatisms shifts the gaze away from small cuts.

It brings an ineffable and growing Wave. Much further ahead than we can imagine.

The 'victory or defeat' alternative is false: we must get out of it.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you know how to live in the imbalance of gratuitousness?

Do you rush and judge, or do you perceive and wait?

Is your life of faith constituted by the giving and receiving typical of banal religion, or by the awareness that you are bound to echo what the Father has already given you in abundance?

What is the space for reconciliation in your reality?

What do you mean in concrete terms by the Gospel?

Forgiveness and Faith: A living encounter

Eccentric gratuitousness, moving forward: the sacrament of humanity as such

(Lk 17:1-6)

Knowledge of God is not a confiscated good or an acquired and already seized science: it moves from one action to another, incessantly; it is realised in an ever-living Encounter that neither blocks us nor dissolves us.

The experience of the 'little ones' [mikròi v.2] is typical. From the earliest communities of faith, they were those who lacked security and energy; unstable and without support.

The 'little ones' have always been the beginners, the newcomers who have heard about Christian brotherhood but are sometimes forced to stand aside or give up the journey.

But the criterion of welcome, tolerance, communion, even of material goods, was the first and main catalyst for the growth of the assemblies.

It was even the source and meaning of all the formulas and signs of the liturgy.

The existential and ideal centre towards which to converge. For a proactive and self-transforming Faith.

In the Spirit of the Master, even for us, the reconciliation of friction is not simply a work of magnanimity.

It is the beginning of the future world. The beginning of an unpredictable and indescribable adventure. And with it, we are suddenly reborn: we have come into direct contact with Christ. He who does not extinguish us at all.

Hence the Christian forgiveness of children, which is not... 'looking on the bright side' and 'turning a blind eye': rather, it is the Newness of God that creates an environment of Grace, propulsive, with enormous possibilities.

A force that bursts forth and paradoxically allows the dark poles to meet, instead of shaking them off. Genuinely eliminating comparisons, useless words and burdens that block the transparent Exodus.

A dynamic that leads to the indispensable and essential: shifting one's gaze. Teaching us to become aware of our own hysteria, to know ourselves, to face anxiety and its causes, to manage situations and moments of crisis.

A malleable virtue that listens intimately to one's personal essence.

Thus, solid, broad empathy introduces new energies; it brings together one's deepest states, even one's standard life... giving rise to other knowledge, different perspectives, unexpected relationships.

In this way, without too much struggle, it renews us and curbs the loss of truthfulness [typically in favour of circumstantial manners]. 

The Lord's greeting of peace is followed by two gestures that are decisive for Pentecost: the Lord wants the disciples to continue his mission: "As the Father has sent me, so I send you" (Jn 20: 21). 

After this, he breathes on them and says: "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive men's sins, they are forgiven them; if you hold them bound, they are held bound" (Jn 20: 23). The Lord breathes on the disciples, giving them the Holy Spirit, his own Spirit. The breath of Jesus is the Holy Spirit. 

We recognize here, in the first place, an allusion made to the story of creation in the Book of Genesis, where it is written: "The Lord God formed man out of the clay of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life" (Gn 2: 7). Man is this mysterious creature who comes entirely from the earth, but in whom has been placed the breath of God. Jesus breathes on the Apostles and gives them the breath of God in a new and greater way. 

In people, notwithstanding all of their limitations, there is now something absolutely new: the breath of God. The life of God lives in us. The breath of his love, of his truth and of his goodness. In this way we can see here too an allusion to Baptism and Confirmation, this new belonging to God that the Lord gives to us. The Gospel Reading invites us to this: to live always within the breath of Jesus Christ, receiving life from him, so that he may inspire in us authentic life, the life that no death may ever take away. 

To his breath, to the gift of the Holy Spirit, the Lord joins the power of forgiveness. We heard earlier that the Holy Spirit unites, breaks down barriers, leads us one to the other. The strength that opens up and overcomes Babel is the strength of forgiveness. 

Jesus can grant forgiveness and the power to forgive because he himself suffered the consequences of sin and dispelled them in the flame of his love. Forgiveness comes from the Cross; he transforms the world with the love that is offered. His heart opened on the Cross is the door through which the grace of forgiveness enters into the world. And this grace alone is able to transform the world and build peace. 

If we compare the two events of Pentecost - the strong wind of the 50th day and the gentle breath of Jesus on the evening of Easter - we might think about this contrast between the two episodes that took place on Mt Sinai, spoken of in the Old Testament. 

On the one hand, there is the narration of fire, thunder and wind, preceding the promulgation of the Ten Commandments and the conclusion of the Covenant (cf. Ex 19 ff.); on the other, there is the mysterious narration of Elijah on Mt Horeb. Following the dramatic events on Mt Carmel, Elijah fled from the wrath of Ahab and Jezebel. Following God's orders, he journeyed to Mt Horeb. The gift of the holy Covenant, of faith in the one God, seemed to have disappeared from Israel. 

In a certain way, Elijah must rekindle the flame of faith on God's mountain and bring it back to Israel. He experiences, in that place, wind, earthquake and fire. But God is not present in all of this. He then perceives a sweet soft murmur; and God speaks to him in this soft breath (cf. I Kings 19: 11-18). 

Is this not precisely what takes place the evening of Easter, when Jesus appeared to his Apostles to teach them what it means here? Might we perhaps see here a prefiguration of the servant of Yahweh, of whom Isaiah says: "He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street" (42: 2)? Does not the humble figure of Jesus appear this way, as the true revelation in whom God manifests himself and speaks to us? Are not the humility and goodness of Jesus the true epiphany of God? 

On Mt Carmel, Elijah sought to overcome the distancing from God with fire and the sword, killing the prophets of Baal. In this way, though, he was unable to restore the faith. 

On Mt Horeb, he was made to understand that God is not in the wind, the earthquake or the fire; Elijah has to learn and perceive the soft voice of God, and in this way to recognize in advance the One who overcame sin not with power but by his Passion; the One who, by his suffering, has given us the ability to forgive. This is how God wins. 

Dear Ordinandi, in this way the message of Pentecost is now aimed directly at you. The Pentecostal scene of the Gospel of John speaks to you and of you. To each one of you, in a very personal way, the Lord says: Peace to [all of] you - peace to you! When the Lord says this, he does not give something, but he gives himself. Indeed, he himself is peace (cf. Eph 2: 14). 

In this greeting of the Lord, we can also foresee a reference to the great mystery of faith, to the Holy Eucharist, in which he continually gives himself to us, and, in this way, true peace.
Sacrament of the Eucharist 

This greeting is placed at the centre of your priestly mission: the Lord entrusts to you the mystery of this Sacrament. In his Name you can say: "This is my Body.... This is my Blood". Allow yourselves to be drawn ever anew by the Holy Eucharist, by communion of life with Christ. Consider the centre of each day the possibility to celebrate the Eucharist worthily. Lead people ever anew to this mystery. Help them, starting from this, to bring the peace of Christ into the world. 

In the Gospel Reading we have just heard, a second phrase of the Risen One resounds: "As the Father has sent me, so I send you" (Jn 20: 21). Christ says this in a very personal way to each one of you. 

With priestly ordination you are inserted into the Apostolic mission. The Holy Spirit is wind, but it is not amorphous; it is an orderly Spirit. It becomes manifest precisely when it orders the mission, in the Sacrament of the Priesthood, in which the ministry of the Apostles is continued. 

Through this ministry, you are inserted in the multitude of those who, beginning with Pentecost, have received the apostolic mission. You are inserted into the communion of priests, into communion with the Bishop and with the Successor of St Peter, who here in Rome is also your Bishop. All of us are inserted in the network of obedience to the Word of Christ, to the word of the One who gives us true freedom because he leads us in the free spaces and open horizons of the truth. 

It is precisely in this common bond with the Lord that we can and must live the dynamism of the Spirit. As the Lord came from the Father and has given us light, life and love, so too the mission must continually set us in motion, make us restless, to bring the joy of Christ to those who suffer, those who are in doubt, as well as to the reluctant. 

Lastly, there is the power of forgiveness. The Sacrament of Penance is one of the Church's precious treasures, since authentic world renewal is accomplished only through forgiveness. Nothing can improve the world if evil is not overcome. 

Evil can be overcome only by forgiveness. Certainly, it must be an effective forgiveness; but only the Lord can give us this forgiveness, a forgiveness that drives away evil not only with words but truly destroys it. Only suffering can bring this about and it has truly taken place with the suffering love of Christ, from whom we draw the power to forgive.

[Pope Benedict, Pentecost homily on the occasion of priestly ordinations, 15 May 2005]

2. Forgiveness! Christ taught us to forgive. He spoke of forgiveness many times and in various ways. When Peter asked him how many times he should forgive his neighbour – ‘up to seven times?’ – Jesus replied that he should forgive ‘seventy times seven’ (Mt 18:21ff). In practice, this means always: indeed, the number ‘seventy’ multiplied by ‘seven’ is symbolic, and signifies, rather than a specific quantity, an incalculable, infinite quantity. In answering the question of how one ought to pray, Christ uttered those magnificent words addressed to the Father: ‘Our Father who art in heaven’; and amongst the petitions that make up this prayer, the last one speaks of forgiveness: ‘Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors’ – that is, those who have wronged us. Finally, Christ himself confirmed the truth of these words on the Cross, when, turning to the Father, he implored: ‘Forgive them!’, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’ (Luke 23:34).
‘Forgiveness’ is a word spoken by a man who has been wronged. Indeed, it is the word of the human heart. In this word of the heart, each of us strives to overcome the barrier of enmity that may separate us from another, seeking to rebuild the inner space of understanding, contact and bond. Christ taught us through the words of the Gospel, and above all through his own example, that this space opens up not only before our fellow human beings, but at the same time before God himself. The Father, who is the God of forgiveness and mercy, desires to act precisely within this space of human forgiveness; he desires to forgive those who are mutually capable of forgiving one another, those who seek to put into practice these words: ‘Forgive us, … as we forgive’.
Forgiveness is a grace which must be contemplated with profound humility and gratitude. It is a mystery of the human heart, which is difficult to expound upon.
5. Christ taught us to forgive. Forgiveness is also indispensable so that God may pose questions to the human conscience, to which He awaits a response in all inner truth.
In this age, when so many innocent people perish at the hands of others, there seems to be a particular need to draw near to each of those who kill, to draw near with forgiveness in our hearts and with the very same question that God, the Creator and Lord of human life, put to the first man who had attempted to take his brother’s life and had taken it away – having taken that which belongs solely to the Creator and Lord of life.
Christ taught us to forgive. He taught Peter to forgive ‘up to seventy times seven’ (Mt 18:22). God himself forgives when man responds to the question addressed to his conscience and his heart with all the inner truth of conversion.
Leaving judgement and sentence in their definitive form to God himself, let us never cease to ask: ‘Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors’.
[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 21 October 1981]

In the parable in today’s Gospel reading, that of the merciful King (cf. Mt 18:21-35), we find this plea twice: “Have patience with me, and I will pay you everything” (vv. 26, 29). The first time it is pronounced by the servant who owes his master ten thousand talents, an enormous sum. Today it would be millions and millions of euros. The second time it is repeated by another servant of the same master. He too is in debt, not towards his master, but towards the same servant who has that enormous debt. And his debt is very small, maybe like a week’s wages. 

The heart of the parable is the indulgence the master shows towards his servant with the bigger debt. The evangelist underlines that, “moved with compassion the master” — we should never forget this word of Jesus: “with compassion”, Jesus always had compassion — “moved with compassion the master let him go and forgave him the loan” (v. 27). An enormous debt, therefore a huge remission! But that servant, immediately afterwards, shows himself to be pitiless towards his companion, who owed him a modest amount. He does not listen to him, he is extremely hostile against him and has him thrown in prison until his debt is paid back (cf. v. 30), that small debt. The master hears about this and, indignant, calls the wicked servant back and has him condemned (cf. vv. 32-34): “I forgave you a great deal and you are not capable of forgiving so little?”.

In the parable we find two different attitudes: God’s — represented by the king who forgives a lot, because God always forgives — and that of the man. In the divine attitude justice is pervaded with mercy, whereas the human attitude is limited to justice. Jesus exhorts us to open ourselves with courage to the strength of forgiveness, because in life not everything can be resolved with justice. We know this. There is a need for that merciful love, which is also at the basis of the Lord’s answer to Peter’s question, which precedes the parable. Peter’s question goes like this: “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?” (v. 21). And Jesus replies, “I do not say to you, seven times but seventy times seven” (v. 22). In the symbolic language of the Bible this means that we are called to forgive always.

How much suffering, how many wounds, how many wars could be avoided if forgiveness and mercy were the style of our life! Even in families, even in families. How many disunited families, who do not know how to forgive each other. How many brothers and sisters bear this resentment within. It is necessary to apply merciful love to all human relationships: between spouses, between parents and children, within our communities, in the Church and also in society and politics.

Today, in the morning, as I was celebrating Mass, I paused, touched by a phrase in the first Reading from the book of Sirach. The phrase says, “Remember the end of your life, and cease from enmity”. A beautiful phrase! Think of the end! Think that you will be in a coffin… and will you take hatred there? Think of the end, stop hating! Stop the resentment. Let’s think of this phrase that is very touching. Remember the end of your life, and cease from enmity”.

It is not easy to forgive because in moments of calm we say: “Yes, this person has done so many things to me but I have done many too. Better to forgive so as to be forgiven”. But then resentment returns like a bothersome fly in the summer that keeps coming back. Forgiveness isn’t something we do in a moment, it is something continuous, against that resentment, this hatred that keeps coming back. Let’s think of our end and stop hating.

Today’s parable helps us to grasp fully the meaning of that phrase we recite in the Lord’s Prayer: “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us” (cf. Mt 6:12). These words contain a decisive truth. We cannot demand God’s forgiveness for ourselves if we in turn do not grant forgiveness to our neighbour. It is a condition: think of your end, of God’s forgiveness, and stop hating. Reject resentment, that bothersome fly that keeps coming back. If we do not strive to forgive and to love, we will not be forgiven and loved either.

Let us entrust ourselves to the maternal intercession of the Mother of God: May she help us to realise how much we are in debt to God, and to remember that always, so that our hearts may be open to mercy and goodness.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 13 September 2020]

House on the Rock or practitioners of vain things

(Lk 6:43-49)

«In order to give Himself to us, God often chooses unthinkable paths, perhaps those of our limits, our tears, our defeats».

Hasty builders are content to build directly on the ground; paying attention only to what is seen and experienced (on the spot).

They do not dig the house to the core - deep down, in the gold of themselves.

In the inner world everything is reversed: the primacy is of Grace, which displaces, because it takes into account only the essential, inexplicable reality - and our dignified autonomy.

«Too pure water has no fish» [Ts'ai Ken T'an].

Accepting ourselves will complete us: it will make us recover the co-present sides, opposite and shadowed.

It is the leap of the profound Faith.

Jesus aims to arouse in people a critical conscience about banal and external solutions; something common among the leaders of ancient religiosity.

To build a new Kingdom, the public liturgies abounding in beautiful signs and resounding social greetings are not enough - not even the most striking gifts.

False security is what makes you feel quiet. There is no sick or inmate worse than the one who thinks he is healthy, arrived and not infected: only here there is no therapy, nor new beginnings.

This will become clear in times of storm, when the need to put our exclusive relationship with the Lord into practice will be evident, starting with our ability to embrace the risk.

Merits not grounded in intimately firm beliefs will not hold the whirlwind of trial.

Are there foundations behind a front of butterflies?

You understand it in the storm, and if you become «rock» even for the invisible - not tourists of the "spirit" who praise praise and do not risk.

Security does not come from adapting to customs and obligations, nor from being admired (at least) like others, which makes the Common House unhealthy.

Our specific and hallmark of the Faith is not an identity drawn from protocols or the manners - it plays on appearances and not on the only steady point: the attitude of pilgrims in Christ.

We are simply firm in the prophetic royal priestly dignity, which is given to us in an unrepeatable Gift and will never be the fruit of deriving from consent.

We live to follow a strong Vocation: bold Root, Spring and Engine of our most intimate fibers; related to the dreams and naturalness of everybody.

Only by turning to one’s innermost soul can we find an authentic foundation, true salvation and healing.

The Mission will reach the existential peripheries, starting from the straightforward Core.

It seems senseless, paradoxical, incredible, but for every Called by Name, the Rock on which he can and must build his way of taking the field... is Freedom.

[Saturday 23rd wk.  in O.T.  September 12, 2026]

The strength of the inner world, even in its depths

(Lk 6:43-49)

Pope Francis said: "God often chooses unimaginable ways to give himself to us, perhaps those of our limitations, our tears, our defeats."

The Lord's call is not Manichean, but profound.

Our behaviour has fascinating roots. The light and shadows of our being remain in dynamic relation.

Sometimes, however, our discomforts or distortions are the result of an excess of 'light' - detached from its opposite. 

This excess is readily associated with the pretence of exorcising the dark side within us, which we would like to hide for social reasons.

We feel that our calling card should only reflect our bright, relaxed, serious and high-performing side.

Perhaps a moral style that is completely upright - at least at first glance.

However, those who become attached to their bright side and even try to promote it for reasons of appearance (even ecclesiastical), established culture, habit (even religious), risk strengthening the opposite side.

Be careful: in every person there is always a side that fails, that does not succeed; and it is not one-sided.

Perhaps it is precisely in those who preach goodness that there is the greatest danger of neglecting its coexisting opposite - which sooner or later will burst forth and find its space.

Blowing up the whole house of cards. But to achieve something alternative and absolutely not artificial.

For those who embark on a path of 'perfection', their counterpart seems only a danger.

And conditioned by models, we continue to play [our already identified 'part'].

Yet the dark side hides resources that the light side does not have.

In the dark side, we read our character seed.

Here lies the therapy and healing from the discomforts we rush to hide (in our family, with friends, in the community, at work).

The dark aspects [selfishness, coldness, closed-mindedness, introversion, sadness] lurk within; there is no point in denying it.

It is worth considering them instead as a source of characterising primordial energies.

It is in fact concealment - sometimes depression itself - that makes us find unimaginable solutions.

As if we were a grain planted in the ground, wanting to exist. And ultimately wanting a natural life, to develop its abilities.

It is precisely the emotions we dislike and detest – like muddy, dark earth – that reconnect us with our deepest essence.

In short, unpleasant emotional states are the well from which other ideas, other guiding 'images', new insights and different lifeblood come to us. And changes.

Light does not possess all possibilities, all dynamism. Indeed, it often seems to be presented [by traditions themselves] in a fictitious, reductive way.

In chiaroscuro, on the other hand, we no longer pretend. Because it is the foundation of the house of the soul.

We consider all this for a solid harmony that comes from within.

Paradoxes of personal vocation: if we did not follow it in its entirety, we would continue to follow wrong ideas or the styles of others.

And we would become ill. Evil will take over.

If we are structured around an abstract, local or false identity, then the storm could destroy everything.

In our trials and errors, we must keep all aspects close at hand - those we have learned to know over time and realised are part of us.

This will change the solidity of our relationship with ourselves, others, nature, history, and the world.

The harmony between conduct and intention of the heart overcomes hypocrisy, but conformity between word and life is not achieved by practising automatisms or surrendering to the convictions of others.

In the post-lockdown period, we are becoming acutely aware of this.

It was once thought that education (especially of young people) also shaped the soul, and that everything naturally flowed into choices: into means, results, external works, and even dreams: 'Tell me what you do and I will tell you who you are'.

Instead, qualitative harmony with the Mystery and the Word of Christ is not achieved by setting things up, but is found within (each of us) enigmatically, and starting from the depths - as a pure secret Gift, for creative independence.

Haste, fear of failure, a culture of concatenation and stability, resolutions (even 'spiritual' ones) or, conversely, the lure of tranquillity; aims, the desire to be recognised, lack of detachment, ambition, fear of being excluded, difficulty in shifting one's gaze... all lead to ignorance of the Mystery.

Devoid of depth, we will be condemned to never dig deep, not even within ourselves; perpetually at the mercy of particular roles, spheres and events; of occasional or local relationships.

Hasty builders are content to build directly on the ground, paying attention only to what they see and experience (on the spot). They do not dig the house down to its core - deep down, into the gold of themselves.In the inner world and its hidden power, everything is turned upside down: primacy belongs to Grace, which is unsettling because it takes into account only the essential, inexplicable reality - and our dignified autonomy.

The rest will unfortunately be destined to collapse disastrously, because it is not based on the Word, on character [albeit magmatic, but strongly potential]... nor on the vocational relationship with God and things, or on the most genuine communion [conviviality and shared richness of differences].

We are experiencing a laceration, even in times of emergency: the inner world is stronger and more convincing, yet the exterior does not want to give way to immediate goals. In fact, we are still attracted to them.

But we know full well that the latter do not reactivate any stage of specific weight, as our young inner being spontaneously does - almost like a child we are carrying in gestation.

In general, even on the spiritual path, we immediately fall into the coveted persona we would like to be: here we do not grow, we are only excited by futilities, nor do we realise that they are not our 'owners'.

Of course, the immediate external goal does not suffer from the wait for the long and necessary evolution of having to give birth to oneself (even in anguish and loneliness), stage after stage, which is activated and reactivated without comfort and security.

Yet we were born to fly, not to follow in others' footsteps and become photocopies in our souls.

So everything that matters will be in the oscillation, because a path of personal specific weight is configured according to the gift of our exceptionality.

And uniqueness can be achieved in the process of every side of ourselves, every aspect of our personality - even those that are apparently petty or superficial. Even those that are unflattering from the point of view of religious tranquillity; which will also have had its value.

Jesus does not intend to distinguish the good from the bad [cf. vv.15-20 and parallel passage in Lk 6:43-45] in a trivial way: he wants us to live fully, in integral uniqueness, and to perceive well.

The Lord does not propose an imprisoned destiny; rather, a reversal of meaning.

His is a warning to sharpen our gaze and focus it inward—not to leave it outside, observing ephemeral results, those that are obvious and sensational; and then that's it, don't live too many shocks... as if we were in a relaxation zone.

The unit of measurement in Christ is not what is immediately perceptible to the eye, nor is it 'progress' in itself, but rather 'the value of each part'.

It is precisely the awareness of limits that becomes a transformative principle within us. And every imperfection calls for Exodus.

To deny one's own boundaries means to allow oneself to be hijacked by common opinions, devoid of Mystery - with horizons reduced to a single 'word'.

It is, for example, the severe crisis that stimulates the upheaval of a system that is ostentatious but competitive and dehumanising, with corrupt inner principles - even though they once appeared to us as absolutes.

Why not be satisfied, if we are generally doing well? Because forced identification has taken away Freedom, even the freedom to admit that we are made of light and shadow.

It is not the disorder that deprives women and men of eloquent vocational emancipation.

Everyone who beats their chest does so in a particular way; and recognises themselves in symbiosis with their own Name.

Then, at every age of life - as in every era - there is a 'sin', which is not a monster but a symptom that speaks precisely of the personal, moral, cultural and social calling.

Even if we do not like it, this oscillation must be understood, not criticised and accused.

I would even say welcomed and reworked - not simplistically rejected, with attitudes of artificial distance or gestures of ambiguous virtue, which make them external and bring us back to square one.

Today, the lack of a full life and beautiful relationships, the general upheaval, the restlessness of the soul - nervousness, dissatisfaction - force us to abandon both the ancient and fascinating devout certainties and the disembodied sophistications 'à la page'.

All in favour of concrete and personal situations, within the horizon of a unique vocation and the leap of faith that opens up to coexistence.

'Water that is too pure has no fish' [Ts'ai Ken T'an].

Accepting ourselves without reservation will introduce us to a dizzying, astonishing experience: with the amazement produced by the recovery of coexisting, opposing and shadowed sides. As many as our brothers and sisters.

Perhaps we will find that they are the most activating and fruitful.

Not the ethics of perfection and approved distinctions, but rather the reviled chaos and our inner demons will paradoxically become the best companions on our journey, and the only true ones; leaders of an amazing Mission.

After all, our works are the fruit of our thoughts and desires. The latter certainly spring from a good, varied education, but not in a mechanical sense.

Here too, it is essential not to be thwarted. Poor discernment destroys the authentic Rock, which coincides with one's own spontaneous Guide to completeness.

The stable foundation of our journey is the Freedom to welcome and the Freedom to correspond to the unique character - our own - of the instinct to fulfil ourselves.

In fact, Jesus distances himself not only from ancient religion, but even from the rather crude messianic strands of early times (e.g. James 3:11-12).

This does not mean that the Master rejects the profound spirit of the ancient Holy Scriptures; on the contrary, he grasps their heart: Qo 3:14; 7:13-18; Sir 37:13-15 [and many other passages (incredible for the mentality in which we have been educated)].

Therefore, it is not enough to say, 'Lord, Lord' (v. 46). It is not enough to formally recognise the Son of God.

We must examine his Call in our being, make it our own and understand it fully, so that it is not corrupted and distorted into inessential forms of childish external conformity.

In insecurity, many people demand expressions of power, seek overt strength; they are content with moral paradigms, look for forms of immediate assurance, or crave renowned guides [who perpetuate and comfort their defensive path].

Paralysing illusions... even on the path of Faith.

On this path, one does not build the expected happiness, nor any solidity, but rather, day after day, one's own sadness - as is evident from too many events, and ultimately from the most hidden forms of compensation (now unmasked).

There is no guru who can put things right at the root.

Our Seed is what it is: we must discover its virtues, especially the unexpected ones - those that derive from the essence and from magmatic and plastic forms of energies that are even opposed.

It is useless to 'heal' oneself according to a conformist standard that does not belong to one's personal Core.

The soul has an autonomous life, suspended from contexts and distances; it exists both inside and outside the passing of time - like Love. 

Each person is a multiplicity of coexisting faces - to which space must be given for greater completeness.

This is what matters, and allying oneself with one's own limitations: embracing what the surrounding environment or the conventionalist cultural paradigm - which defends its territory - may consider inconclusive (and so on).

We guard other boundaries.

What we dislike is perhaps our best part.

In any case, giving voice to tensions means finally being able to name them, to welcome them with dignity - so that they may enjoy more complete joys.

And let them cross the threshold of the joy of living, and therefore of authentic reliability.

By sweeping away the anxiety of imperfection, we will find a more harmonious, energetic steadfastness.

By welcoming fragility along with rebellion, we will not live half-heartedly; on the contrary, we will experience the fullness of being (vital and lively).

Not always feeling trapped, we will be able to fly away.

But we can immediately realise that certain peaceful situations are counterfeit constraints and traps for the soul: in the radical discomforts that arise.

Many continue in vain to seek futile confirmation: in the search for extraordinary gifts or in meticulous observance, or in fashions of thought. All external realities.

However, this is not the pedagogy that educates and launches life in the Spirit outside of extrinsic mechanisms.

Nor is it enough to 'do God's will' in a disciplined manner but without friendly awareness of ourselves in order to truly overcome the storms.

No form of inculcated exteriority can convince us.

Nor can it make us become a 'rock' - or a small bulwark - to persuade, empower and strengthen others.

The difference between common religiosity and personal faith?

Life in its humanising and divine state of preciousness opens up varied paths - even abysmal ones, but full of inner experiences; of unimaginable searches and discoveries, where we can be ourselves.

In the sphere of Faith, there are no longer sacred times, places, knowledge, or models—all superficial if rigid—that are not also new and personal.

Union with the Lord, the Rock from which we were cut and extracted, is neither binary nor a groove, but a fundamental option.

It leaves the reins loose on each person's particular inclinations and colours.

With the entire Discourse on the Plain (vv. 17ff.) - now coming to an end - Jesus aims to awaken in people a critical awareness of trivial and external solutions. This is common among the leaders of popular and official ancient religiosity.

To build a new Kingdom, it is not enough to have public liturgies overflowing with beautiful signs and the right creed, and sensational social obeisance - not even the most ostentatious gifts.

False security is that of those who profess... but only perform conformist acts and reflect aligned ideas - and therefore feel they are okay.

There is no one more sick or reclusive than those who consider themselves healthy, accomplished and uninfected: only here is there no therapy, no revival.This will be seen in times of turmoil, when the need to translate one's personal relationship with the Lord into life will become evident, starting with oneself and one's ability to embrace the risk of Love.

Merits that are not rooted in deeply held convictions - gestures produced by intrigue, calculation and artificial attitudes - will not withstand the whirlwind of trial.

'Practisers of vain things', that is, insubstantial things (this is the meaning of the Greek text that introduces the parallel passage in Matthew 7:23): they are the standard-bearers of an empty spirituality which, despite its veneer, even spectacular aspects, has nothing to do with God.

According to convenience, the 'masters' who stand in the way of personal developments seem willing to renounce any commitment, plotting the reversal of their own proclamations - because they are prisoners in this regard [rather than how they appear: leaders].

They do not yet reveal the divine Face, but rather a populist and calculating opposite.

They live to get by - together with the club they belong to - and obtain only immediate recognition, obeisance, and handouts of consensus around them.

And this despite the great disciplines of censorship they advocate:

They do not correct the separation between teaching and personal commitment: they may preach the true God and (always) great things every day – but as if it were their job.

The schemers multiply high-sounding or symbolic formulas and gestures, like soporific or exciting drugs... but they are the first not to believe what they say and repeatedly impose on others.

Full of obtuse demands on people, they do not understand the Father, God of the desperate, exiled and mocked, who resurrects the unchosen - those deprived of a future; not those assured of life, commanded by self-interest and appearances.

Are there foundations behind a facade of butterflies? This can be understood in the test, and if one becomes a 'rock' even for the invisible - not spiritual tourists who praise (v.46) and take no risks.

Therefore, security does not come from conforming to customs and obligations, nor from being admired (at least) as much as others. Fiction that makes the common home unhealthy.

Our specific and defining feature of Faith is not a 'cultural' identity drawn from protocols or mainstream manners - a plot that plays on appearances and not on the only strong point: the attitude of pilgrims in Christ.

We are steadfast only in the prophetic, regal priestly dignity that is given as an unrepeatable gift and will never be the result of consensus.

Nor is it the result of appearances, of saying and not saying, of building oneself up, of adapting to the forces at play, of struggling to stay afloat.

We live to follow a profound vocation: the root, spring and motor of our innermost fibres; related to the dreams and naturalness of each one of us.

Only trusting in the soul is an authentic platform, true salvation and medicine.

The Mission will reach the existential peripheries, starting from the Core.

It seems senseless, paradoxical, incredible, but for every Called one, the Rock on which he can and must build his way of taking the field... is Freedom.

To internalise and live the message:

When the storm hits your house, do you imagine a great fall? What is the rock on which your community is built? Is it interested in your naturalness or does it want to standardise you?

Do you know people with strong prophetic, apostolic or thaumaturgical activity, who give the impression of an extraordinary or circumstantial familiarity with God, perhaps only apparent?

What do you think is the reason for this? Do you think they have ever truly surrendered to themselves and to the quintessence of their Calling by Name?

1. At the source of your deepest aspirations

In every period of history, including our own, many young people experience a deep desire for personal relationships marked by truth and solidarity. Many of them yearn to build authentic friendships, to know true love, to start a family that will remain united, to achieve personal fulfilment and real security, all of which are the guarantee of a serene and happy future. In thinking of my own youth, I realize that stability and security are not the questions that most occupy the minds of young people. True enough, it is important to have a job and thus to have firm ground beneath our feet, yet the years of our youth are also a time when we are seeking to get the most out of life. When I think back on that time, I remember above all that we were not willing to settle for a conventional middle-class life. We wanted something great, something new. We wanted to discover life itself, in all its grandeur and beauty. Naturally, part of that was due to the times we lived in. During the Nazi dictatorship and the war, we were, so to speak, “hemmed in” by the dominant power structure. So we wanted to break out into the open, to experience the whole range of human possibilities. I think that, to some extent, this urge to break out of the ordinary is present in every generation. Part of being young is desiring something beyond everyday life and a secure job, a yearning for something really truly greater. Is this simply an empty dream that fades away as we become older? No! Men and women were created for something great, for infinity. Nothing else will ever be enough. Saint Augustine was right when he said “our hearts are restless till they find their rest in you”. The desire for a more meaningful life is a sign that God created us and that we bear his “imprint”. God is life, and that is why every creature reaches out towards life. Because human beings are made in the image of God, we do this in a unique and special way. We reach out for love, joy and peace. So we can see how absurd it is to think that we can truly live by removing God from the picture! God is the source of life. To set God aside is to separate ourselves from that source and, inevitably, to deprive ourselves of fulfilment and joy: “without the Creator, the creature fades into nothingness” (Second Vatican Council, Gaudium et Spes, 36). In some parts of the world, particularly in the West, today’s culture tends to exclude God, and to consider faith a purely private issue with no relevance for the life of society. Even though the set of values underpinning society comes from the Gospel – values like the sense of the dignity of the person, of solidarity, of work and of the family –, we see a certain “eclipse of God” taking place, a kind of amnesia which, albeit not an outright rejection of Christianity, is nonetheless a denial of the treasure of our faith, a denial that could lead to the loss of our deepest identity.

For this reason, dear friends, I encourage you to strengthen your faith in God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. You are the future of society and of the Church! As the Apostle Paul wrote to the Christians of Colossae, it is vital to have roots, a solid foundation! This is particularly true today. Many people have no stable points of reference on which to build their lives, and so they end up deeply insecure. There is a growing mentality of relativism, which holds that everything is equally valid, that truth and absolute points of reference do not exist. But this way of thinking does not lead to true freedom, but rather to instability, confusion and blind conformity to the fads of the moment. As young people, you are entitled to receive from previous generations solid points of reference to help you to make choices and on which to build your lives: like a young plant which needs solid support until it can sink deep roots and become a sturdy tree capable of bearing fruit.

2. Planted and built up in Jesus Christ

In order to highlight the importance of faith in the lives of believers, I would like to reflect with you on each of the three terms used by Saint Paul in the expression: “Planted and built up in Jesus Christ, firm in the faith” (cf. Col 2:7). We can distinguish three images: “planted” calls to mind a tree and the roots that feed it; “built up” refers to the construction of a house; “firm” indicates growth in physical or moral strength. These images are very eloquent. Before commenting on them, I would like to point out that grammatically all three terms in the original text are in the passive voice. This means that it is Christ himself who takes the initiative to plant, build up and confirm the faithful.

The first image is that of a tree which is firmly planted thanks to its roots, which keep it upright and give it nourishment. Without those roots, it would be blown away by the wind and would die. What are our roots? Naturally our parents, our families and the culture of our country are very important elements of our personal identity. But the Bible reveals a further element. The prophet Jeremiah wrote: “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit” (Jer 17:7-8). For the prophet, to send out roots means to put one’s trust in God. From him we draw our life. Without him, we cannot truly live. “God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son” (1 Jn 5:11). Jesus himself tells us that he is our life (cf. Jn 14:6). Consequently, Christian faith is not only a matter of believing that certain things are true, but above all a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. It is an encounter with the Son of God that gives new energy to the whole of our existence. When we enter into a personal relationship with him, Christ reveals our true identity and, in friendship with him, our life grows towards complete fulfilment. There is a moment, when we are young, when each of us wonders: what meaning does my life have? What purpose and direction should I give to it? This is a very important moment, and it can worry us, perhaps for some time. We start wondering about the kind of work we should take up, the kind of relationships we should establish, the friendships we should cultivate... Here, once more, I think of my own youth. I was somehow aware quite early on that the Lord wanted me to be a priest. Then later, after the war, when I was in the seminary and at university on the way towards that goal, I had to recapture that certainty. I had to ask myself: is this really the path I was meant to take? Is this really God’s will for me? Will I be able to remain faithful to him and completely at his service? A decision like this demands a certain struggle. It cannot be otherwise. But then came the certainty: this is the right thing! Yes, the Lord wants me, and he will give me strength. If I listen to him and walk with him, I become truly myself. What counts is not the fulfilment of my desires, but of his will. In this way life becomes authentic.

Just as the roots of a tree keep it firmly planted in the soil, so the foundations of a house give it long-lasting stability. Through faith, we have been built up in Jesus Christ (cfr Col 2:7), even as a house is built on its foundations. Sacred history provides many examples of saints who built their lives on the word of God. The first is Abraham, our father in faith, who obeyed God when he was asked to leave his ancestral home and to set out for an unknown land. “Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness, and he was called the friend of God” (Jas 2:23). Being built up in Jesus Christ means responding positively to God’s call, trusting in him and putting his word into practice. Jesus himself reprimanded his disciples: “Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord’, and do not do what I tell you?” (Lk 6:46). He went on to use the image of building a house: “I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, listens to my words, and acts on them. That one is like a person building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock; when the flood came, the river burst against that house but could not shake it because it had been well built” (Lk 6:47-48).

Dear friends, build your own house on rock, just like the person who “dug deeply”. Try each day to follow Christ’s word. Listen to him as a true friend with whom you can share your path in life. With him at your side, you will find courage and hope to face difficulties and problems, and even to overcome disappointments and set-backs. You are constantly being offered easier choices, but you yourselves know that these are ultimately deceptive and cannot bring you serenity and joy. Only the word of God can show us the authentic way, and only the faith we have received is the light which shines on our path. Gratefully accept this spiritual gift which you have received from your families; strive to respond responsibly to God’s call, and to grow in your faith. Do not believe those who tell you that you don’t need others to build up your life! Find support in the faith of those who are dear to you, in the faith of the Church, and thank the Lord that you have received it and have made it your own!

3. Firm in the faith 

You are “planted and built up in Jesus Christ, firm in the faith” (cf. Col 2:7). The Letter from which these words are taken was written by Saint Paul in order to respond to a specific need of the Christians in the city of Colossae. That community was threatened by the influence of certain cultural trends that were turning the faithful away from the Gospel. Our own cultural context, dear young people, is not unlike that of the ancient Colossians. Indeed, there is a strong current of secularist thought that aims to make God marginal in the lives of people and society by proposing and attempting to create a “paradise” without him. Yet experience tells us that a world without God becomes a “hell”: filled with selfishness, broken families, hatred between individuals and nations, and a great deficit of love, joy and hope. On the other hand, wherever individuals and nations accept God’s presence, worship him in truth and listen to his voice, then the civilization of love is being built, a civilization in which the dignity of all is respected, and communion increases, with all its benefits. Yet some Christians allow themselves to be seduced by secularism or attracted by religious currents that draw them away from faith in Jesus Christ. There are others who, while not yielding to these enticements, have simply allowed their faith to grow cold, with inevitable negative effects on their moral lives.

To those Christians influenced by ideas alien to the Gospel the Apostle Paul spoke of the power of Christ’s death and resurrection. This mystery is the foundation of our lives and the centre of Christian faith. All philosophies that disregard it and consider it “foolishness” (1 Cor 1:23) reveal their limitations with respect to the great questions deep in the hearts of human beings. As the Successor of the Apostle Peter, I too want to confirm you in the faith (cf. Lk 22:32). We firmly believe that Jesus Christ offered himself on the Cross in order to give us his love. In his passion, he bore our sufferings, took upon himself our sins, obtained forgiveness for us and reconciled us with God the Father, opening for us the way to eternal life. Thus we were freed from the thing that most encumbers our lives: the slavery of sin. We can love everyone, even our enemies, and we can share this love with the poorest of our brothers and sisters and all those in difficulty.

Dear friends, the Cross often frightens us because it seems to be a denial of life. In fact, the opposite is true! It is God’s “yes” to mankind, the supreme expression of his love and the source from which eternal life flows. Indeed, it is from Jesus’ heart, pierced on the Cross, that this divine life streamed forth, ever accessible to those who raise their eyes towards the Crucified One. I can only urge you, then, to embrace the Cross of Jesus, the sign of God’s love, as the source of new life. Apart from Jesus Christ risen from the dead, there can be no salvation! He alone can free the world from evil and bring about the growth of the Kingdom of justice, peace and love to which we all aspire.

4. Believing in Jesus Christ without having seen him

In the Gospel we find a description of the Apostle Thomas’s experience of faith when he accepted the mystery of the Cross and resurrection of Christ. Thomas was one of the twelve Apostles. He followed Jesus and was an eyewitness of his healings and miracles. He listened to his words, and he experienced dismay at Jesus’ death. That Easter evening when the Lord appeared to the disciples, Thomas was not present. When he was told that Jesus was alive and had shown himself, Thomas stated: “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe” (Jn 20:25).

We too want to be able to see Jesus, to speak with him and to feel his presence even more powerfully. For many people today, it has become difficult to approach Jesus. There are so many images of Jesus in circulation which, while claiming to be scientific, detract from his greatness and the uniqueness of his person. That is why, after many years of study and reflection, I thought of sharing something of my own personal encounter with Jesus by writing a book. It was a way to help others see, hear and touch the Lord in whom God came to us in order to make himself known. Jesus himself, when he appeared again to his disciples a week later, said to Thomas: “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe” (Jn 20:27). We too can have tangible contact with Jesus and put our hand, so to speak, upon the signs of his Passion, the signs of his love. It is in the sacraments that he draws particularly near to us and gives himself to us. Dear young people, learn to “see” and to “meet” Jesus in the Eucharist, where he is present and close to us, and even becomes food for our journey. In the sacrament of Penance the Lord reveals his mercy and always grants us his forgiveness. Recognize and serve Jesus in the poor, the sick, and in our brothers and sisters who are in difficulty and in need of help.

Enter into a personal dialogue with Jesus Christ and cultivate it in faith. Get to know him better by reading the Gospels and the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Converse with him in prayer, and place your trust in him. He will never betray that trust! “Faith is first of all a personal adherence of man to God. At the same time, and inseparably, it is a free assent to the whole truth that God has revealed” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 150). Thus you will acquire a mature and solid faith, one which will not be based simply on religious sentiment or on a vague memory of the catechism you studied as a child. You will come to know God and to live authentically in union with him, like the Apostle Thomas who showed his firm faith in Jesus in the words: “My Lord and my God!”.

5. Sustained by the faith of the Church, in order to be witnesses

Jesus said to Thomas: “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (Jn 20:29). He was thinking of the path the Church was to follow, based on the faith of eyewitnesses: the Apostles. Thus we come to see that our personal faith in Christ, which comes into being through dialogue with him, is bound to the faith of the Church. We do not believe as isolated individuals, but rather, through Baptism, we are members of this great family; it is the faith professed by the Church which reinforces our personal faith. The Creed that we proclaim at Sunday Mass protects us from the danger of believing in a God other than the one revealed by Christ: “Each believer is thus a link in the great chain of believers. I cannot believe without being carried by the faith of others, and by my faith I help support others in the faith” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 166). Let us always thank the Lord for the gift of the Church, for the Church helps us to advance securely in the faith that gives us true life (cf. Jn 20:31).

In the history of the Church, the saints and the martyrs have always drawn from the glorious Cross of Christ the strength to be faithful to God even to the point of offering their own lives. In faith they found the strength to overcome their weaknesses and to prevail over every adversity. Indeed, as the Apostle John says, “Who is it that conquers the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” (1 Jn 5:5). The victory born of faith is that of love. There have been, and still are, many Christians who are living witnesses of the power of faith that is expressed in charity. They have been peacemakers, promoters of justice and workers for a more humane world, a world in accordance with God’s plan. With competence and professionalism, they have been committed in different sectors of the life of society, contributing effectively to the welfare of all. The charity that comes from faith led them to offer concrete witness by their actions and words. Christ is not a treasure meant for us alone; he is the most precious treasure we have, one that is meant to be shared with others. In our age of globalization, be witnesses of Christian hope all over the world. How many people long to receive this hope! Standing before the tomb of his friend Lazarus, who had died four days earlier, as he was about to call the dead man back to life, Jesus said to Lazarus’ sister Martha: “If you believe, you will see the glory of God” (cf. Jn 11:40). In the same way, if you believe, and if you are able to live out your faith and bear witness to it every day, you will become a means of helping other young people like yourselves to find the meaning and joy of life, which is born of an encounter with Christ!

[Pope Benedict, Message for the 26th World Youth Day, 2011]