27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [4 October 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah 5:1–7

This text begins as a song dedicated to the grape harvest: it recounts the vineyard-keeper’s patient care for his vineyard, from preparing the soil to selecting the best vine. In Israel, the vineyard was highly prized and required great care. For this reason, the song eventually came to be used as a wedding song too, urging the bridegroom to care for his wife with the same devotion as the vine-grower. The vineyard is also a symbol of the covenant with God. The prophet Isaiah draws on this image to speak of the relationship between God and Israel. The vineyard represents the house of Israel, whilst the beloved vine represents the people of Judah. The good fruits that God expects are righteousness and justice; the bad fruits, on the other hand, represent crime and cries of suffering.  Above all, Isaiah denounces: greed and the hoarding of property, with the rich seeking to possess ever more land, and indifference towards the poor; the excessive pursuit of pleasure and drunkenness, whilst remaining indifferent to God’s work; above all, the loss of moral values and justice, to the point of regarding what is evil as good and what is good as evil.  In summary: the vineyard is a metaphor for the people of Israel, loved and cared for by God. God expects this people to bear the fruits of justice, respect and solidarity, but Isaiah denounces selfishness, the accumulation of wealth, indifference towards the poor and moral corruption.

Responsorial Psalm (79/80)

The psalm takes up the theme of the vineyard from Isaiah: Israel is likened to a vineyard and God is the vine-grower. God has done for this vineyard everything a vine-grower can do: he has tended, protected and cared for it. He has prepared the soil, removed the stones, planted a choice vine, built a watchtower and set up a winepress. He expected good grapes, but the vineyard produced only bad grapes (Isaiah 5:1–2). Faced with this failure, the vineyard-keeper decides to abandon the vineyard: he will remove its protective hedge, turn it into a desolate wasteland, neither pruned nor cultivated, where thorns and brambles will grow, and he will even prevent the rain from falling on it (Isaiah 5:5–6). The metaphor of the vineyard was easily understood in the context of the Temple in Jerusalem, because the imagery of the vineyard describes the history and sufferings of Israel.

When the psalm says that God has opened the hedge and that passers-by are gathering the grapes, whilst wild boars and the beasts of the field are ravaging the vineyard, it is referring to foreign occupation: the wild beasts symbolically represent the enemies who are currently oppressing Israel. The vineyard is also described as destroyed and set ablaze, whilst the enemies and neighbouring peoples mock Israel. The people therefore turn to God, asking how long they must still endure his wrath, feeding on the ‘bread of tears’ and drinking tears in abundance. The text does not allow us to establish with certainty which particular invasion or occupation inspired this prayer. Wars and foreign occupations, in fact, produce similar situations of destruction and suffering. For this reason, it is not possible to establish with certainty the date of the psalm’s composition. One possibility is that it was written during the invasions of the Assyrian Empire, when the Northern Kingdom was threatened and Samaria was finally destroyed in 721 BC; this hypothesis would place the psalm between the 9th and 7th centuries BC, and therefore before the Babylonian exile. Another possibility is that it was composed later, after the conquest of Jerusalem by the Babylonians in the 6th century BC. The text does, however, acknowledge that other hypotheses also exist. Ultimately, the vineyard represents Israel, whilst God is the vine-grower who chose, tended and protected it. The failure to produce good fruit and the subsequent devastation of the vineyard represent the history of a people experiencing sin, suffering, invasions and foreign occupation. The psalm thus becomes a plea to God, in which Israel, wounded and persecuted, asks him to intervene and return to tend his vineyard. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Philippians (4:6–9)

‘Do not be anxious about anything,’ says Paul, and we might be tempted to reply that it is not always easy! But we must reread the verse that precedes this passage in Paul’s letter: ‘The Lord is near’. For Paul, this is the best – indeed, the only – reason to remain at peace, whatever may happen: ‘the Lord is near’. The Lord is near to us; we in Israel have known this for a long time, ever since the episode of the burning bush, and God is near to us because he loves us. The Lord is near because the time has been fulfilled, because the Kingdom of God has already begun and we are in the last days. Another phrase from Paul, ‘the time is short’, translates an expression taken from nautical vocabulary: ‘Time has lowered its sails’ (1 Cor 7:29); just as a boat about to enter harbour folds in its sails, so human history is very close to the harbour. To be a believer is to be drawn towards this fulfilment of history; not only has the Kingdom drawn near to us in Jesus Christ (for the Kingdom is Jesus Christ present in everyone), but, even more so, it draws us to itself like a magnet. The rest of the text follows on from this: since the Lord is near, let us not worry about anything. ‘Do not be anxious about anything’… since everything has already been given, all we need to do is draw upon it: we need do nothing but let ourselves be carried along by the torrent of grace. To pray, after all, is to immerse oneself in God’s gift. We then understand why, in prayer, supplication and thanksgiving are always linked; it is a characteristic of Jewish prayer, which always says simultaneously, ‘Blessed are You, Lord, who gives us… please, give us’ . It is logical, after all: if we pray to God, it is because we know that He can and does want our happiness. To ask Him for something is, at least implicitly, to give Him thanks. This is exactly what Paul says: ‘Brothers and sisters, do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation present your requests to God through prayer, supplication and thanksgiving’. But, as Jesus said, ‘Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord”, will enter the Kingdom of Heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven’ (Mt 7:21); Paul, too, makes the same recommendation: ‘Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is just, whatever is pure… let these be the focus of your thoughts’. He certainly attaches great importance to this practice of living a righteous life, for he places it on exactly the same level as prayer. He begins by speaking of prayer and concludes, ‘the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus’. He then speaks of Christian conduct, ending with the phrase ‘the God of peace will be with you’. It seems to me that this parallelism, which is certainly intentional, means that, in Paul’s eyes, prayer goes hand in hand with community life. In this, moreover, he is simply echoing the preaching of the Old Testament prophets. For Saint Paul, peace lies at the end of the journey where a life of prayer and communal values go hand in hand: ‘Do not be anxious about anything… pray and make requests, giving thanks, so that God may know your needs… and the peace of God will guard your hearts and your minds’. If we take seriously the Scriptures’ insistence on the necessary link between prayer and brotherly love, we learn that not only do our anxieties make us forget that God loves us, but they also close our hearts… If we worried less about our daily bread, there would be bread today for many others. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (21:33–43)

This parable of Jesus echoes the prophet Isaiah’s song of the vineyard: A man owned a piece of land where he planted a vineyard; he fenced it in, dug a pit for the winepress and built a watchtower. The owner tends to his vineyard with the same care as Isaiah’s vineyard-keeper, but the similarities end there. In the Gospel, the parable takes a new turn and thus offers a new lesson. In Isaiah, the owner is also the vineyard-keeper; the vineyard represents the people of Israel, a vineyard surrounded by care, yet disappointing and yielding only bad fruit. In Jesus’ parable, the owner is not the vine-grower; he does not work his vineyard directly, but entrusts it to other vine-growers: ‘He let it out to some farmers and went away to a distant place.’ Is there a vineyard? Who are the vine-growers? As for knowing what the vineyard represents, and who the vine-growers are, it is not clear. There are two possibilities: the first hypothesis is that the vineyard represents Israel, as in Isaiah, and the vine-growers are the chief priests and the Pharisees. They were responsible for the vineyard—the people of Israel—and they mismanaged it because they mistreated all the prophets and, ultimately, were about to reject the Father’s Beloved Son. The second possibility is that the vineyard represents the Kingdom of God and the vine-growers are the entire people of Israel, who had been entrusted with it. This second possibility is probably the correct one, as Jesus concludes by saying: ‘The Kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit’. This last statement by Jesus is terrible: ‘The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people who will produce its fruit’. Must we conclude, then, that the people of Israel would be rejected? This is a grave question that has poisoned dialogue between Jews and Christians for twenty centuries; and one with which Saint Paul, a Jew himself, was already painfully grappling in his Epistle to the Romans. His conclusion was that, in a mysterious yet certain way, Israel remains the chosen people in the service of the world because ‘God cannot deny himself’ . On the other hand, we must not forget that a parable is never a verdict, but a call to conversion; it is true that, from one parable to the next, in this final stage of Jesus’ life, the tone grows more urgent, but this is because the need to recognise the Messiah is becoming ever more pressing. We are on the eve of the Passion. We must never lose sight of the fact that Jesus’ constant desire is to save people, not to condemn them; and that, whilst he heals those born blind, he desires even more to heal his own people from their blindness. We therefore have here a final attempt by Jesus to warn the Pharisees; his words are stern, but they do not constitute a definitive judgement. This is by no means a final, irrevocable judgement on the Jewish people as a whole, nor even on their leaders; that would be contrary to the whole of the Gospel. Moreover, the most important message is not that the Kingdom is being taken away from them: what matters is that, despite the obstacles placed in its way by men, the Kingdom bears its fruit. It is not the vine-grower that matters, but the grapes. Above all, however, it is Jesus’ commentary that gives us the key to the parable: ‘Have you never read in the Scriptures: “The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This was the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes!”’ God is accustomed to such reversals of fortune. Indeed, in the Book of Genesis, Jacob’s sons had said of their brother Joseph, ‘Here is the dreamer; let us kill him’… they could not have imagined that the one they wished to kill was the very one who would save them, and the whole people (Gen 37:20). In a sense, Jesus is here foretelling his Resurrection: he, the rejected stone, will become the keystone of the building; in other words, the new people will be all those who gather round him, whatever their background. And no one is excluded: all the vine-growers are included in Jesus’ words on the cross: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’. This means that Jesus has indeed taken up the theme of the parable of the vineyard found in Isaiah, but has modified its symbolism – something quite common amongst biblical authors. One need only consider how biblical metaphors (such as that of the cornerstone, for example) evolve from one author to another. The judgement that Jeremiah had already passed on the people of Israel can shed light on this: ‘On the day I brought them (your forefathers) out of the land of Egypt… this is the command I gave them: “Listen to my voice: I will be your God and you shall be my people; you shall follow all the ways I prescribe for you, so that you may be happy.” But they did not listen; they paid no heed; they followed the evil inclinations of their hardened hearts; they turned their backs on me, not their faces. From the day your forefathers came out of the land of Egypt until today, I have sent all my servants, the prophets, to you without ceasing. But they did not listen to me, they paid no heed; they stiffened their necks and were worse than their fathers. You shall speak all these words to them, and they will not listen to you. You shall call out to them, and they will not answer you. Then you shall say to them: ‘This is the nation that has not listened to the voice of the Lord its God, nor accepted instruction! Truth is lost; it has vanished from their mouths.” (Jer 7:22–28). Matthew wrote his Gospel at the end of the first century, at a time when the Jews’ refusal to recognise the Messiah had facilitated the entry of pagans into the Church; it is therefore not surprising to find in texts from this period a hint of polemic against those who had led the Jewish people to reject Christ.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Mt 21:33-43.45-46)

Christ introduces everyone to an adventurous, uncomfortable journey, not without pitfalls that throw the situation upside down and destabilize - but it is the Way for each of us to recognize himself.

Otherwise we would not get closer to the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity - virtues that are necessary for rebirth, even from global emergency.

Jesus uses the figure of the Vineyard to describe the work of God and the response of men - first and foremost spiritual leaders (v.23).

Religious leaders were like this: hostile to divine action; equipped to appear, nevertheless violent and sclerotic.

The directors to whom Jesus addresses, follow the entire metaphor step by step - and they seem to find themselves unguarded. They only remain speechless at the end.

Why does He ask them imperatively: «Listen you» [which is not a simple invitation]?

From the beginning speaks with a master tone. Why?

He is Lord of those to whom he actually addresses: the Christ so much invoked by new caste of "pharisees" back in the communities, where top of the class already claimed to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated in third generation assemblies, especially by their chiefs.

Church elders who were already annoyed at taking care of the little people, who on the other hand came to the threshold of the communities with the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these «last» the new prophets called by God to awaken the immobility situation (of bosses) - comparable to the same swampy reality of other religions of time.

Everywhere and even today some potentates discriminate and manipulate consciences in order to protect their world - by eliminating Jesus Present, who recurs in the small, innocent and transparent ones.

Veterans accustomed to directing do not notice that they are decreeing their own condemnation (v. 41).

Of course, Christ does not intend to ridicule anyone: He wanted to lead people to ‘tell the truth’ about themselves.

In Gospel the behavior of the titled people does not change. On the contrary, feeling unmasked gets worse it, and only the hesitation of losing face in public can restrain them (vv.45-46).

But now they know who they are - so much so that they are ashamed to openly plot.

Categories that are considered closer to Paradise - those who produce inedible grapes - excluded from the testimony of the Kingdom innervated by tinies’ crowd.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of inept settlers (v.43).

It is «good news»: the Eternal one achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who should serve Him, and instead use Him.

In short, for Jesus the great enemy of God is expediency.

Even amidst ungenerous brutality and accusations of being deluded dreamers, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit are ready for succession.

An unstoppable course, sprinkled by the stream of blood of the prophets (v.46).

Outcasts, shunned, expelled, and to be crushed - but not locked into mental patterns: capable of giving free rein to regenerative energies.

Consciousness of the world, divorced from compromise.

[27th Sunday in O.T. (year A), October 4, 2026]

(Mt 21:33–43, 45–46)

    This is a continuous metaphor rather than a parable; it is therefore the fruit of post-Easter reflection – let us see why.

Christ leads us all on an adventurous, unsettling journey, not without pitfalls that turn the situation on its head and destabilise us – yet it is the Way by which each of us may come to know ourselves.

Otherwise, we would not be able to reconnect with the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity – virtues that are essential for rebirth, even in the face of the global crisis.

Jesus uses the image of the Vineyard to describe God’s work and humanity’s response – first and foremost that of the spiritual leaders (v. 23).

The religious leaders of old were just like that: hostile to divine action; skilled at putting on a show, yet violent and ossified.

The leaders to whom Jesus addresses himself follow the entire metaphor step by step – they seem to be caught off guard – and are left speechless only at the very end.

Why does he address them in such an imperious manner: ‘Listen’ [which is not a mere invitation]?

From the very beginning, he speaks in the tone of a master. Why?

He is the Lord of those to whom he is actually addressing himself: the Christ so fervently invoked by the new caste of ‘Pharisees’ returning to their assemblies, where already the top students were claiming the right to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated within third-generation communities, particularly by their leaders.

Church elders who were already annoyed at having to deal with the ordinary folk who turned up at the threshold of the communities in the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these ‘least’ who were the new prophets called by God to shake up the stagnant situation (of the veterans) – comparable to the very same stagnant reality found in other religions of that time.

In this way, let us proceed to a possible interpretation:

The hedge or low wall surrounding the Vineyard is the plan that God has revealed to protect us from other ways of life [paradigms not of Faith], which are senseless and self-destructive.

The winepress signifies that nothing was lacking [the Lord took the utmost care], nor was the anticipation of the time of joy, of the juice of love.

In short: excellent conditions and an abundant result; maximum production of ecstasy – one would expect. However…

The vineyard workers represent the established authorities. They have been entrusted with the task of placing us in the best position and under the right conditions for our growth and flourishing.

Indeed, under ideal conditions, everyone can produce the fruit of love that the ‘master of the vineyard’ expects.

The two groups of envoys were prophets sent by the Father before and after the Babylonian exile – in vain – to call for concrete adherence to, and fidelity to, the Covenant.

All met with a tragic end, because the point of reference for both the devout people and the irresponsible leaders remained the same: self-enrichment.

Here are the various groups in power at the time of Jesus:

Those in charge of Temple affairs [priests] managed the tithes, specific taxes and offerings.

The high priest was chosen from among the members of the aristocratic families who flaunted the greatest power and wealth.

The Sadducees were, in fact, the aristocratic elite; laymen themselves, and extremely wealthy. They readily involved themselves in trade, including that of the Temple, and in large-scale landownership.

The Pharisees were the leaders of popular piety, advocating strict adherence to the Law, particularly the purity laws. They also upheld the various traditions, including oral ones.

Their ethical authority was based on setting an example and a sense of sacred [and moralistic] separation. This exemplary conduct was felt and recognised in every village in Palestine.

The ‘Elders’ were leaders of the people (local authorities in villages or towns); descendants of the leaders of the ancient tribes.

Scribes [doctors of the Law] were those who, after a lifetime of studying the Word of God, were elevated to the rank of official theologians of the Sanhedrin.

Although divided into two factions – one favouring the Sadducees, the other the Pharisees – their prestige even managed to overshadow the letter of the Torah. Indeed, in the event of a conflict between the Law and their interpretation, it was the latter that was deemed superior.

Jesus, on the other hand, discredited the scholars, who readily distorted and twisted the meaning of the Holy Scriptures – always to their own advantage.

He knew full well that his act of denunciation would cost him his life, because he was exposing the entire system of profit, power balances and positions.

Yet he never backed down a single millimetre.

Everywhere, and even today, certain powerful figures discriminate against and manipulate people’s consciences to safeguard their commissions and their farcical world of public and private relations.

Despite all the hypocritical and conventional fire of condemnation, which often seeks to eliminate the ‘Present Jesus’ who reveals himself in the small, innocent and transparent.

Conversely, the supreme stewards of the House of God must adopt an attitude of service to the Vineyard; they must not draw up their own life plans, to which everyone – including the Father – must conform.

It is for this reason that the Son sought to dismantle that structure: indeed, to supplant the Temple with his own living Person.

A genuine mortal threat to a system that could no longer even tolerate the interference of God Himself.

But whilst it was considered irreverent to substitute the life of the people for the stone sanctuary, it also seemed sacrilegious to regard the Torah system as transitory.

The Pentateuch was the cornerstone of the ‘chosen people’s’ identity. This idea was interpreted with a rigid sense of permanence – even though its observance brought not happiness but dissatisfaction.

Yet the old guard, accustomed to hierarchical structures – and to being in charge – did not even realise that in doing so they were sealing their own doom (v. 41).

Of course, Christ does not intend to ridicule anyone: He wishes to lead people to question themselves and speak the truth about themselves.

In the Gospel, the behaviour of those holding official positions of piety does not change; on the contrary, feeling exposed, it worsens.

Only the fear of losing face in public can hold them back (vv. 45–46).

But now they know who they are, so much so that they are ashamed to plot openly.

The ‘inner circle’, who consider themselves closer to Heaven and therefore holders of power (which they claim for themselves), are invariably those who produce inedible grapes.

Circles excluded from the witness of the Kingdom.

The ageing forces know only how to oppose. The lifelong leaders – pretentious fools – always love command, and (all too much) their own interests, not those of the humble masses.

Unfortunately, this Gospel passage is a snapshot of the entire history of salvation, where disdain all too often prevails – and it is still relevant today.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of the inept tenants (v. 43).

It is ‘good news’: the Lord achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who ought to represent him, and who instead use him. Having no fruit of love to offer in return.

In short, it is our own story. The enigma of redemption, capable of embracing even violence and rebellion within itself.

For Jesus, there is no privileged ethnicity or civilisation – because God’s great enemy is not sin in the sense of imperfection, but self-interest.

Self-interest that goes hand in hand with indifference and (self-serving) contempt: a recurring problem – bringing history to a close.

And yet, when the days of fervour fade and the situation grinds to a halt because of those who see election as a privilege rather than a service, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit ceaselessly emerge. Ready to carry on the legacy of minds and hearts, even amidst ungenerous brutality and accusations of being deluded dreamers.

An unstoppable course, watered by the stream of the prophets’ blood (v.46).

Outcasts, struck off, expelled and destined to be crushed – yet not confined within outdated mental frameworks: capable of giving free rein to regenerating energies.

The world’s conscience, detached from compromise.

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

This Sunday’s Gospel ends with a particularly severe warning from Jesus, addressed to the chief priests and the elders of the people: “The kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a nation producing the fruits of it” (Mt 21:43). These are words that call to mind the great responsibility of those in every epoch who are called to work in the Lord’s vineyard, especially in roles of authority, and they press for a renewal of full fidelity to Christ. 

He is “the very stone which the builders rejected” (cf. Mt 21:42), because they judged him to be hostile to the law and a danger to public order; but he himself, rejected and crucified, is risen, to become the “corner stone” on which the foundations of every human life and of the whole world may rest in total safety. 

The truth of this is the subject of the Parable of the Unfaithful Tenants to whom a man entrusted his vineyard so that they might cultivate and harvest the produce. The owner of the vineyard symbolizes God himself, while the vineyard symbolizes his people, as well as the life he gives, so that with his grace and our hard work, we may do good. St Augustine comments: “God does also cultivate us... as a field, that he may make us better” (cf. Sermo 87, 1, 2: PL 38, 531). God has a project for his friends, but unfortunately the human response is often oriented to infidelity which is expressed in rejection. Pride and selfishness prevent us from recognizing and welcoming even God’s most precious gift: his Only-Begotten Son. 

When, in fact, “he sent his son to them”, the Evangelist Matthew wrote, “[the tenants] took him and cast him out of the vineyard, and killed him” (Mt 21:37, 39). God puts himself in our hands, agrees to make himself an unfathomable mystery of weakness and manifests his omnipotence in his faithfulness to a plan of love which, in the end, also provides for the proper punishment of the wicked (cf. Mt 21:41). 

Firmly anchored in faith to the cornerstone which is Christ, let us abide in him, like the branch that can bear no fruit unless it remains attached to the vine. The Church, the People of the New Covenant, is built only in him, for him and with him. On this the Servant of God Paul VI wrote: “The first benefit which We trust the Church will reap from a deepened self-awareness, is a renewed discovery of its vital bond of union with Christ. This is something which is perfectly well known, but it is supremely important and absolutely essential. It can never be sufficiently understood, meditated upon and preached” (Encyclical Ecclesiam Suam, 6 August 1964: AAS 56 [1964], 622).

Dear friends, the Lord is ever close and active in humanity’s history and accompanies us with the unique presence of his Angels, whom today the Church venerates as “Guardian Angels”, that is, ministers of the divine care for every human being. From the beginning until the hour of death, human life is surrounded by their constant protection. And the Angels encircle the august Queen of Victories, the Blessed Virgin Mary of the Rosary, who, on the first Sunday of October, at this very moment, receives the fervent supplication from the Shrine of Pompeii and from the whole world that evil may be defeated and God’s goodness revealed in its fullness.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 2 October 2011]

"The stone rejected ... has become cornerstone'
Psalm 117 [118], Lauds on Sunday of the Second Week 

1. When a Christian, in unison with the voice of prayer in Israel, sings Psalm 117{118}, that we just heard, he feels within him a special thrill. In fact, he finds in this liturgical hymn two phrases that echo with a new meaning in the NT. The first is verse 22, "The stone rejected by the builders has become the corner-stone". The phrase is quoted by Jesus, who applies it to his mission of death and glory, after having told the parable of the murderous vinedressers (cf. Mt 21,42). The phrase is also recalled by Peter in the Acts of the Apostles: "This Jesus is the stone, rejected by you the builders, which has become the cornerstone. There is no salvation in anyone else nor is there any other name given to men under heaven by which we are to be saved" (Acts 4,11-12). St Cyril of Jerusalem comments: "We say the Lord Jesus Christ is only one because his sonship is one; only one we say so that you do not think that there is another ... In fact he called stone, not inanimate stone nor cut by human hands, but the cornerstone, because he who believes in him will not remain disappointed" (The Catecheses, English title of the Italian version of St Cyril's Catecheses, Le Catechesi, Rome, 1993, p. 312-313).

The second phrase that the NT takes from Psalm 117[118] is proclaimed by the crowd at the solemn Messianic entrance of Christ into Jersualem: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" (Mt 21,9; cf. Ps 117,26). The acclamation is framed by a Hosanna that takes up the Hebrew petition hoshiac na',"please, save us!"

2. The splendid Biblical hymn is placed at the heart of the small collection of psalms, 112[113] to 117[118], called the Passover Hallel, namely, the psalms of praise used in Hebrew worship for the Passover and the major solemnities of the liturgical year. The processional rite can be taken as the theme of Psalm 117[118] articulated with the chants by the soloist or choir, with the Holy City and its Temple as the background. A beautiful antiphon begins and ends the psalm:  "Praise the Lord for he is good, his mercy endures forever" (verses 1 and 29).

The word "mercy" translates the Hebrew word hesed, that designates the generous fidelity of God towards the covenanted and friendly people. Three categories of people are told to praise this fidelity:  all of Israel, the "house of Aaron", namely the priests, and those "who fear the Lord", a way of speaking that includes the faithful and the proselytes, namely, the members of other nations who desire to follow the law of the Lord (cf. verses 2-4).

3. The procession makes its way through the streets of Jerusalem, because the psalm speaks of the "tents of the righteous" (cf. v. 15). There is, however, a hymn of thanksgiving (cf. vv. 5-18) whose basic message is:  Even when we are in anguish, we must keep high the torch of confidence, because the powerful hand of the Lord leads his faithful people to victory over evil and to salvation.

The sacred poet uses strong and vivid images; he compares the cruel adversaries to a swarm of bees or to a column of flames that advances turning everything to ashes (cf. v.12). There is the vehement reaction of the just person, sustained by the Lord. He repeats three times "In the name of the Lord I cut them off" where the Hebrew verb refers to an intervention that destroys evil (cf. vv.10.11.12). Behind all of it, indeed, there is the powerful right hand of God, namely, his effective intervention, and certainly not the weak and uncertain hand of man. For this reason the joy of the victory over evil leads to a vibrant profession of faith:  "The Lord is my strength and my song, he has become my salvation" (v. 14).

4. The procession then arrives at the temple, at the "gates of justice" (v. 19), at the Holy Door of Zion. Here a second song of thanksgiving is sung, that begins with a dialogue between the congregation and the priests to be admitted to worship. "Open to me the gates of justice:  I will enter to give thanks to the Lord", the soloist says in the name of the congregation in procession:  "This is the gate of the Lord, the righteous shall enter through it" (v. 20), and others reply, probably the priests.

Once they enter, they begin the hymn of thanksgiving to the Lord, who in the Temple offers himself as the stable and secure "corner stone" on which to build the house of life (cf. Mt 7,24-25). A priestly blessing descends upon the faithful who have come into the temple to express their faith, to raise their prayer and to celebrate their worship.

5. The last scene that opens before our eyes is constituted by the joyful rite of sacred dances, accompanied by the festive waving of branches:  "Bind the festal procession with branches, up to the horns of the altar" (v. 27). The liturgy is a joyful, festive celebration, expression of the entire life that praises the Lord. The rite of the branches brings to mind the Jewish Feast of Booths, observed in memory of the pilgrimage of Israel through the desert, a solemnity in which there was a procession with palm, myrtle and willow branches.

This rite evoked by the Psalm is proposed to the Christian in Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, celebrated in the liturgy of Palm Sunday. Christ is acclaimed as the "Son of David" (cf. Mt 21,9) by the crowd, who, "having come for the feast ... took branches of palms and went out to greet him shouting:  Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel" (Jn 12,12-13). At that festive celebration that is, however, the prelude to the hour of the Passion and Death of Jesus, the symbol of the cornerstone, proposed at the beginning, takes its full meaning, a glorious Easter meaning.

Psalm 117[118] encourages Christians to recognize in the Easter event of Jesus "the day that the Lord has made", on which "the stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone". With the psalm they can then sing with great thanksgiving:  " The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation" (v. 14); "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and exult in it" (v. 24).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 5 December 2001]

In today’s Gospel passage (cf. Mt 21:33-43) Jesus, foreseeing his passion and death, tells the parable of the murderous vintners, to admonish the chief priests and elders of the people who are about to take the wrong path. Indeed, they have bad intentions towards him and are seeking a way to eliminate him.

The allegorical story describes a landowner who, after having taken great care of his vineyard (cf. v. 33), had to depart and leave it in the hands of farmers. Then, at harvest time, he sends some servants to collect the fruit; but the tenants welcome the servants with a beating, and some even kill them. The householder sends other servants, more numerous, but they receive the same treatment (cf. vv. 34-36). The peak is reached when the landowner decides to send his son: the vinegrowers have no respect for him; on the contrary, they think that by eliminating him they can take over the vineyard, and so they kill him too (cf. vv. 37-39).

The image of the vineyard is clear: it represents the people whom the Lord has chosen and formed with such care; the servants sent by the landowner are the prophets, sent by God, while the son represents Jesus. And just as the prophets were rejected, so too Christ was rejected and killed.

At the end of the story, Jesus asks the leaders of the people: “When the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” (v. 40). And, caught up in the logic of the narrative, they deliver their own sentence: the householder, they say, will severely punish those wicked people and “let out the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the fruits in their seasons” (v. 41). 

With this very harsh parable, Jesus confronts his interlocutors with their responsibility, and he does so with extreme clarity. But let us not think that this admonition applies only to those who rejected Jesus at that time. It applies to all times, including our own. Even today God awaits the fruits of his vineyard from those he has sent to work in it. All of us.

In any age, those who have authority, any authority, also in the Church, in the People of God, may be tempted to work in their own interests instead of those of God. And Jesus says that true authority is when one performs service; it is in serving, not exploiting others. The vineyard is the Lord’s, not ours. Authority is a service, and as such should be exercised for the good of all and for the dissemination of the Gospel. It is awful to see when people who have authority in the Church seek their own interests.

Saint Paul, in the second reading of today’s liturgy, tells us how to be good workers in the Lord’s vineyard: that which is true, noble, just, pure, lovely and honoured; that which is virtuous and praiseworthy, let all this be the daily object of our commitment (cf. Phil 4:8). I repeat: that which is true, noble, just, pure, lovely and honoured; that which is virtuous and praiseworthy, let all this be the daily object of our commitment. It is the attitude of authority and also of each one of us, because every one of us, even in a small, tiny way, has a certain authority. In this way we shall become a Church ever richer in the fruits of holiness; we shall give glory to the Father who loves us with infinite tenderness, to the Son who continues to give us salvation, and to the Spirit who opens our hearts and impels us towards the fullness of goodness.

Let us now turn to Mary Most Holy, spiritually united with the faithful gathered in the Shrine of Pompeii for the Supplication, and in the month of October let us renew our commitment to pray the Holy Rosary.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 4 October 2020]

Scientists and Lowlies: abstract world and incarnation

(Lk 10:17-24)

Unlike the fruitless action of the Apostles [Lk 9 passim], the return of the new evangelizers is full of joy and results (vv. 17-20). Why?

The leaders looked at religiosity with purposes of interest. Theology professors were used to evaluating every comma starting from their own knowledge, ridiculous but opinionated - unrelated to events.

What remains tied to customs and usual protagonists does not make us dream, it is not amazing appearance and testimony of Elsewhere; takes away expressive richness from the Announcement and life.

The Lord rejoices in his own experience, which brings a non-epidermal joy and a teaching from the Spirit - about those who are well disposed, and able to understand the depths of the Kingdom, in common things.

In short, after a first moment of enthusiastic crowds, the Christ deepens the issues and finds himself all against, except God and the leasts: the weightlesses, but with a great desire to start from scratch.

Glimpse of the Mystery that lifts history - without making it a possession.

At first even Jesus was amazed by the refusal of those who considered themselves already satisfied and no longer expected anything that could overcome habits.

Then He understands, praises and blesses the Father's plan: the authentic Person is born from below, and possesses «the sense of neighborhood» (FT n.152).

The Creator is Relationship simple: He demystifies the idol of greatness.

The Eternal is not the master of creation: He is Refreshment that reassures us, because makes us feel complete and lovable; He looks for us, pays attention to the language of the heart.

He is the Tutor of the world, even of the uneducated - of the «infants»  (v.21) spontaneously empty of arrogant spirit, that is, of those who do not remain closed in their sufficient belonging.

Thus the Father-Son relationship is communicated to the poor of God: those who are endowed with the attitude of Family members (v.22).

Insignificant and invisible without great external capacities, but who abandon themselves to the proposals of the provident life that Comes, like babies in the arms of their parents.

With a pietas’ Spirit that favors those who allow themselves to be filled with innate wisdom. The only reality that corresponds to us and does not present the "account": it does not proceed along the paths of functional thinking, of calculating initiative.

Sapience that transmits freshness in the willingness to personally receive welcome restore the Truth as a Gift, and the spontaneous enthusiasm itself, capable of realizing it.

A simple blessing prayer, for the simple - this one from Jesus (v.21) - which makes us grow in esteem, fits perfectly with our experience, and gets along well with ourselves.

It does not presuppose the energy of 'models', nor the aggressive power of “bigwigs”.

In the perspective of the Peace-Happiness [Shalom] to be announced, what had always seemed imperfections and defects become preparatory energies, which complete and fulfill us also spiritually.

And instead of only living with the “big” and external, one must live in communion even with the 'small' of oneself, or there is no amiability, no authentic life.

To internalize and live the message:

How do you feel when you hear yourself say: «You don't count»?  Does it remain a humiliating contempt or do you consider it a great received Light, as Jesus did?

[Saturday 26th wk. in O.T.  October 3, 2026]

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

The Evangelists Matthew and Luke (cf. Mt 11:25-30 and Lk 10:21-22) have handed down to us a “jewel” of Jesus’ prayer that is often called the Cry of Exultation or the Cry of Messianic Exultation. It is a prayer of thanksgiving and praise, as we have heard. In the original Greek of the Gospels the word with which this jubilation begins and which expresses Jesus’ attitude in addressing the Father is exomologoumai, which is often translated with “I praise” (cf. Mt 11:25 and Lk 10:21). However, in the New Testament writings this term indicates mainly two things: the first is “to confess” fully — for example, John the Baptist asked those who went to him to be baptized to recognize their every sin (cf. Mt 3:6); the second thing is “to be in agreement”. Therefore, the words with which Jesus begins his prayer contain his full recognition of the Father’s action and at the same time, his being in total, conscious and joyful agreement with this way of acting, with the Father’s plan. The “Cry of Exultation” is the apex of a journey of prayer in which Jesus’ profound and close communion with the life of the Father in the Holy Spirit clearly emerges and his divine sonship is revealed.

Jesus addresses God by calling him “Father”. This word expresses Jesus’ awareness and certainty of being “the Son” in intimate and constant communion with him, and this is the central focus and source of every one of Jesus’ prayers. We see it clearly in the last part of the hymn which illuminates the entire text. Jesus said: “All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows who the Son is except the Father, or who the Father is except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him” (Lk 10:22). Jesus was therefore affirming that only “the Son” truly knows the Father. 

All the knowledge that people have of each other — we all experience this in our human relationships — entails involvement, a certain inner bond between the one who knows and the one who is known, at a more or less profound level: we cannot know anyone without a communion of being. In the Cry of Exultation — as in all his prayers — Jesus shows that true knowledge of God presupposes communion with him. Only by being in communion with the other can I begin to know him; and so it is with God: only if I am in true contact, if I am in communion with him, can I also know him. True knowledge, therefore, is reserved to the “Son”, the Only Begotten One who is in the bosom of the Father since eternity (cf. Jn 1:18), in perfect unity with him. The Son alone truly knows God, since he is in an intimate communion of being; only the Son can truly reveal who God is.

The name “Father” is followed by a second title, “Lord of heaven and earth”. With these words, Jesus sums up faith in creation and echoes the first words of Sacred Scripture: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen 1:1). 

In praying, he recalls the great biblical narrative of the history of God’s love for man that begins with the act of creation. Jesus fits into this love story, he is its culmination and its fulfilment. Sacred Scripture is illumined through his experience of prayer and lives again in its fullest breadth: the proclamation of the mystery of God and the response of man transformed. Yet, through the expression: “Lord of heaven and earth”, we can also recognize that in Jesus, the Revealer of the Father, the possibility for man to reach God is reopened.

Let us now ask ourselves: to whom does the Son want to reveal God’s mysteries? At the beginning of the Hymn Jesus expresses his joy because the Father’s will is to keep these things hidden from the learned and the wise and to reveal them to little ones (cf. Lk 10:21). Thus in his prayer, Jesus manifests his communion with the Father’s decision to disclose his mysteries to the simple of heart: the Son’s will is one with the Father’s. 

Divine revelation is not brought about in accordance with earthly logic, which holds that cultured and powerful people possess important knowledge and pass it on to simpler people, to little ones. God used a quite different approach: those to whom his communication was addressed were, precisely, “babes”. This is the Father’s will, and the Son shares it with him joyfully. The Catechism of the Catholic Church says: “His exclamation, ‘Yes, Father!’ expresses the depth of his heart, his adherence to the Father’s ‘good pleasure,’ echoing his mother’s ‘Fiat’ at the time of his conception and prefiguring what he will say to the Father in his agony. The whole prayer of Jesus is contained in this loving adherence of his human heart to the ‘mystery of the will’ of the Father (Eph 1:9)” (n. 2603).

The invocation that we address to God in the “Our Father” derives from this: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”: together with Christ and in Christ we too ask to enter into harmony with the Father’s will, thereby also becoming his children. Thus Jesus, in this “Cry of Exultation”, expresses his will to involve in his own filial knowledge of God all those whom the Father wishes to become sharers in it; and those who welcome this gift are the “little ones”.

But what does “being little” and simple mean? What is the “littleness” that opens man to filial intimacy with God so as to receive his will? What must the fundamental attitude of our prayer be? Let us look at “The Sermon on the Mount”, in which Jesus says: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Mt 5:8). It is purity of heart that permits us to recognize the face of God in Jesus Christ; it is having a simple heart like the heart of a child, free from the presumption of those who withdraw into themselves, thinking they have no need of anyone, not even God.

It is also interesting to notice the occasion on which Jesus breaks into this hymn to the Father. In Matthew’s Gospel narrative it is joyful because, in spite of opposition and rejection, there are “little ones” who accept his word and open themselves to the gift of faith in him. The “Cry of Exultation” is in fact preceded by the contrast between the praise of John the Baptist — one of the “little ones” who recognized God’s action in Jesus Christ (cf. Mt 11:2-19) — and the reprimand for the disbelief of the lake cities “where most of his mighty works had been performed” (cf. Mt 11:20-24). 

Hence Matthew saw the Exultation in relation to the words with which Jesus noted the effectiveness of his word and action: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news of the Gospel preached to them. And blessed is he who takes no offence at me” (Mt 11:4-6).

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 7 December 2011]

1. In the previous catechesis, we went over, albeit briefly, the Old Testament testimonies that prepared us to welcome the full revelation, announced by Jesus Christ, of the truth of the mystery of the Fatherhood of God.

Indeed, Christ spoke many times of his Father, presenting his providence and merciful love in various ways.

But his teaching goes further. Let us listen again to the particularly solemn words, recorded by the evangelist Matthew (and paralleled by Luke): 'I bless you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have kept these things hidden from the wise and the clever and revealed them to the simple . . ." and later: "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 11:25. 27; cf. Lk 10:2. 11).

So for Jesus, God is not only "the Father of Israel, the Father of men", but "my Father"! "Mine": precisely for this reason the Jews wanted to kill Jesus, because "he called God his Father" (Jn 5:18). "His" in the most literal sense: He whom only the Son knows as Father, and by whom alone he is mutually known. We are now on the same ground from which the prologue of John's Gospel will later arise.

2. My Father' is the Father of Jesus Christ, he who is the origin of his being, of his messianic mission, of his teaching. The evangelist John has abundantly reported the messianic teaching that allows us to fathom in depth the mystery of God the Father and Jesus Christ, his only Son.

Jesus says: "Whoever believes in me does not believe in me, but in him who sent me" (John 12: 44). "I did not speak from me, but the Father who sent me, he himself commanded me what I should say and proclaim" (Jn 12:49). "Verily, verily, I say unto you, the Son of himself can do nothing except what he sees the Father do; what he does, the Son also does" (Jn 5:19). "For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son to have life in himself" (Jn 5:26). And finally: ". . the Father, who has life, has sent me, and I live for the Father" (Jn 6:57).

The Son lives for the Father first of all because he was begotten by him. There is a very close correlation between fatherhood and sonship precisely because of generation: "You are my Son; today I have begotten you" (Heb 1:5). When at Caesarea Philippi Simon Peter confesses: "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God", Jesus answers him: "Blessed are you . . . for neither flesh nor blood has revealed it to you, but my Father . . ." (Mt 16:16-17), for only "the Father knows the Son" just as only the "Son knows the Father" (Mt 11:27). Only the Son makes the Father known: the visible Son makes the invisible Father seen. "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9).

3. A careful reading of the Gospels shows that Jesus lives and works in constant and fundamental reference to the Father. He often addresses him with the word full of filial love: "Abba"; even during the prayer in Gethsemane this same word returns to his lips (cf. Mk 14:36). When the disciples ask him to teach them to pray, he teaches them the "Our Father" (cf. Mt 6:9-13). After the resurrection, at the moment of leaving the earth he seems to refer once again to this prayer, when he says: "I ascend to my Father and your Father, my God and your God" (Jn 20, 17).

Thus through the Son (cf. Heb 1:2), God revealed Himself in the fullness of the mystery of His fatherhood. Only the Son could reveal this fullness of the mystery, because only "the Son knows the Father" (Mt 11:27). "God no one has ever seen him: it is the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father, who has revealed him" (Jn 1:18).

4. Who is the Father? In the light of the definitive witness we have received through the Son, Jesus Christ, we have the full knowledge of faith that the Fatherhood of God belongs first of all to the fundamental mystery of God's intimate life, to the Trinitarian mystery. The Father is the one who eternally begets the Word, the Son consubstantial with him. In union with the Son, the Father eternally "breathes forth" the Holy Spirit, who is the love in which the Father and the Son mutually remain united (cf. Jn 14:10).

Thus the Father is in the Trinitarian mystery the "beginning-without-beginning". "The Father by none is made, nor created, nor begotten" (Quicumque symbol). He alone is the beginning of life, which God has in Himself. This life - that is, the very divinity - the Father possesses in absolute communion with the Son and the Holy Spirit, who are consubstantial with him.

Paul, an apostle of the mystery of Christ, falls in adoration and prayer "before the Father from whom all fatherhood in heaven and on earth takes its name" (Eph 3:15), the beginning and model.For there is "one God the Father of all, who is above all, who acts through all and is present in all" (Eph 4:6).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 23 October 1985]