“Two men went up into the temple to pray”; the one “went down to his house justified rather than the other” (Lk 18:10, 14). The latter had paraded all his merits before God, virtually making God his debtor. Deep down, he felt no need for God, even though he thanked him for letting him become so perfect, “not like this tax collector”. And yet it was the tax collector who went down to his house justified. Conscious of his sins, and so not even lifting his head – although in his trust he is completely turned towards Heaven – he awaits everything from the Lord: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner” (Lk 18:13). He knocks on the door of mercy, which then opens and justifies him, for, as Jesus concludes: “everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted” (Lk 18:14).

Saint Paul, the patron saint of the city of Luanda and of this splendid church built some fifty years ago, speaks to us from personal experience about this God who is rich in mercy. I wanted to highlight the second millennium of the birth of Saint Paul by celebrating the present Pauline Year, so that we can learn from him how to know Jesus Christ more fully. This is the testimony which Paul has bequeathed to us: “The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. And I am the foremost of sinners; but I received mercy for this reason, that in me, as the foremost, Jesus Christ might display his perfect patience for an example to those who were to believe in him for eternal life” (1 Tim 1:15-16). In the course of the centuries, the number of people touched by grace has continually grown. You and I are among them. Let us give thanks to God because he has called us to be part of this age-long procession and thus to advance towards the future. In the footsteps of all Jesus’ followers, let us join them in following Christ himself and thus enter into the Light.

[Pope Benedict, homily, Luanda, 21 March 2009]

It is his Love that triumphs over death and gives us eternity and it is this love that we call "Heaven": God is so great that he also makes room for us. And Jesus the man, who at the same time is God, is the guarantee for us that the being-man and the being-God can exist and live, the one within the other, for eternity. 

This means that not only a part of each one of us will continue to exist, as it were pulled to safety, while other parts fall into ruin; on the contrary it means that God knows and loves the whole of the human being, what we are. And God welcomes into his eternity what is developing and becoming now, in our life made up of suffering and love, of hope, joy and sorrow. The whole of man, the whole of his life, is taken by God and, purified in him, receives eternity. Dear Friends! I think this is a truth that should fill us with deep joy. Christianity does not proclaim merely some salvation of the soul in a vague afterlife in which all that is precious and dear to us in this world would be eliminated, but promises eternal life, "the life of the world to come". Nothing that is precious and dear to us will fall into ruin; rather, it will find fullness in God. Every hair of our head is counted, Jesus said one day (cf. Mt 10: 30). The definitive world will also be the fulfilment of this earth, as St Paul says: "Creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God" (Rom 8: 21). Then we understand that Christianity imparts a strong hope in a bright future and paves the way to the realization of this future. We are called, precisely as Christians, to build this new world, to work so that, one day, it may become the "world of God", a world that will surpass all that we ourselves have been able to build. In Mary taken up into Heaven, who fully shares in the Resurrection of the Son, we contemplate the fulfilment of the human creature in accordance with "God's world". 

Let us pray the Lord that he will enable us to understand how precious in his eyes is the whole of our life; may he strengthen our faith in eternal life; make us people of hope who work to build a world open to God, people full of joy who can glimpse the beauty of the future world amidst the worries of daily life and in this certainty live, believe and hope. Amen!

[Pope Benedict, homily, 15 August 2010]

6. “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector” (Lk 18:10). However, only one returned home justified. And it was the tax collector (cf. Lk 18:14). This means that only he reached the inner mystery of the temple, the mystery united with its consecration. Only he, even though both had gone there to pray.

Thus, it appears that the sacred space itself, the temple, the cathedral, must be further filled with another space that is totally interior and spiritual: "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?" writes St Paul (1 Cor 3:16).

In fact, your cathedral, like so many others in the world, is filled with an almost infinite number of those inner temples, which are human "hearts". Who do these human "hearts" most resemble? The Pharisee or the tax collector? The temple is a sign of man's reconciliation with God in Jesus Christ. However, the reality of this reconciliation - which is indicated by the external sign of the temple - ultimately passes through the human heart, through this sanctuary of justification and holiness.

7. The Pharisee returned "unjustified" because he was "full of himself". In the 'space' of his heart there was no room for God. The Pharisee was present in the physical temple, but God was not present in the temple of his heart. Why, then, did the tax collector return 'justified'? Because, unlike the Pharisee, he humbly recognised that he needed to be justified. He did not judge others. He judged himself.

The tax collector 'stands at a distance', yet - and perhaps he does not realise it - he is closer than ever to the Lord, because 'the Lord, as the Psalm says (33:19), is close to those who have a wounded heart'. God is not at all far from the sinner, if that sinner has a 'broken heart', that is, a repentant heart, and trusts, like the tax collector, in divine mercy: 'O God, have mercy on me, a sinner'. The tax collector, therefore, does not glory in himself, but in the Lord. He does not exalt himself. He does not put himself first, but recognises God's majesty and transcendence. He knows that God is great and merciful, and that he bends down to the cry of the poor and the humble.

The tax collector "stands at a distance," but at the same time he trusts. This is the right attitude towards God. To feel unworthy of him because of one's sins, but to trust in his mercy precisely because he loves the repentant sinner.

[Pope John Paul II, homily in Perugia, 26 October 1986]

Jesus wants to show us the right attitude for prayer and for invoking the mercy of the Father; how one must pray; the right attitude for prayer. It is the parable of the pharisee and the tax collector (cf. Lk 18:9-14). Both men went up into the Temple to pray, but they do so in very different ways, obtaining opposite results. 

The pharisee stood and prayed using many words. His is yes, a prayer of thanksgiving to God, but it is really just a display of his own merits, with a sense of superiority over “other men”, whom he describes as “extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even,” for example, referring to the other one there, “like this tax collector” (v. 11). But this is the real problem: that pharisee prays to God, but in truth he is just self-lauditory. He is praying to himself! Instead of having the Lord before his eyes, he has a mirror. Although he is standing in the Temple, he doesn’t feel the need to prostrate himself before the majesty of God; he remains standing, he feels secure, as if he were the master of the Temple! He lists all the good works he has done: he is beyond reproach, observing the Law beyond measure, he fasts “twice a week” and pays “tithes” on all he possesses. In short, rather than prayer, he is satisfied with his observance of the precepts. Yet, his attitude and his words are far from the way of God’s words and actions, the God who loves all men and does not despise sinners. On the contrary, this pharisee despises sinners, even by indicating the other one there. In short, the pharisee, who holds himself to be just, neglects the most important commandment: love of God and of neighbour. 

It is not enough, therefore, to ask how much we pray, we have to ask ourselves how we pray, or better, in what state our heart is: it is important to examine it so as to evaluate our thoughts, our feelings, and root out arrogance and hypocrisy. But, I ask myself: can one pray with arrogance? No. Can one pray with hypocrisy? No. We must only pray by placing ourselves before God just as we are. Not like the pharisee who prays with arrogance and hypocrisy. We are all taken up by the phrenetic pace of daily life, often at the mercy of feelings, dazed and confused. It is necessary to learn how to rediscover the path to our heart, to recover the value of intimacy and silence, because the God who encounters us and speaks to us is there. Only by beginning there can we in our turn encounter others and speak with them. The pharisee walked toward the Temple, sure of himself, but he was unaware of the fact that his heart had lost the way. 

Instead the tax collector — the other man — presents himself in the Temple with a humble and repentant spirit: “standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast” (v. 13). His prayer was very brief, not long like that of the pharisee: “God, be merciful to me a sinner”. Nothing more. A beautiful prayer! Indeed, tax collectors — then called “publicans” — were considered impure, subject to foreign rulers; they were disliked by the people and socially associated with “sinners”. The parable teaches us that a man is just or sinful not because of his social class, but because of his way of relating to God and how he relates to his brothers and sisters. Gestures of repentance and the few and brief words of the tax collector bear witness to his awareness of his own miserable condition. His prayer is essential. He acts out of humility, certain only that he is a sinner in need of mercy. If the pharisee asked for nothing because he already had everything, the tax collector can only beg for the mercy of God. And this is beautiful: to beg for the mercy of God! Presenting himself with “empty hands”, with a bare heart and acknowledging himself to be a sinner, the tax collector shows us all the condition that is necessary in order to receive the Lord’s forgiveness. In the end, he is the one, so despised, who becomes an icon of the true believer.

Jesus concludes the parable with the judgment: “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted” (v. 14). Of these two, who is the corrupt one? The pharisee. The pharisee is the very icon of a corrupt person who pretends to pray, but only manages to strut in front of a mirror. He is corrupt and he is pretending to pray. Thus, in life whoever believes himself to be just and criticises others and despises them, is corrupt and a hypocrite. Pride compromises every good deed, empties prayer, creates distance from God and from others. 

If God prefers humility it is not to dishearten us: rather, humility is the necessary condition to be raised by Him, so as to experience the mercy that comes to fill our emptiness. If the prayer of the proud does not reach God’s heart, the humility of the poor opens it wide. God has a weakness for the humble ones. Before a humble heart, God opens his heart entirely. It is this humility that the Virgin Mary expresses in the Canticle of the Magnificat: “he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden […] his mercy is on those who fear him from generation to generation” (Lk 1:48, 50). Let her help us, our Mother, to pray with a humble heart. And we, let us repeat that beautiful prayer three times: “Oh God, be merciful to me a sinner”.

[Pope Francis, General Audience, 1 June 2016]

Conversion and Times

(Lk 13:1-9)

Conversion refers to a process that shakes the soul, due to an Encounter. A ‘meeting’ that opens to the knowledge of ourselves.

A dialogue that projects minds and actions onto reality and the Mystery, which ceaselessly refer to a new Exodus.

Even today, the swampy counterpart of the life of Faith wedges itself like a constant woodworm, and is symbolized by an arid confrontation, expressed in the absence of fruit on an unnecessarily leafy tree.

The ‘vineyard’ is an icon of the chosen people and the ‘fig tree’ of its central prosperity. Here evokes the Temple, in particular its liturgical nucleus: the Sanctuary.

The cult that took place in the sacred of ​​the vast area of ​​Mount Zion had to express the praise of a people who were constantly listening, called to a life of sharing and fraternity.

The delicious fruits that the Lord was waiting for should have been sweet and tender (like figs), but they were hard and inedible. The Call had been dropped on deaf ears.

The many and showy "leaves" of the most devout rite didn’t celebrate a life of welcome and understanding, rather tended to hide the bitter berries of a style in no way conforming to the divine plan.

We ask ourselves: how much time do we have available to amend and not regress, living fully the present?

Is the Father's governmental action punitive or only responsible and life-giving?

In the parable of the sterile fig tree we learn: the only condition that can change a history of infertility and squalor - as well as the danger of formalism - is the time still needed to assimilate the Word.

Forward process, linked to the unpredictable way in which the vital call of the Seed and the particular reaching out of its roots intertwine with the earth of the soul, then overflowing in relation to the events.

Appeal that never ceases, in the reverb of which is elaborated and strengthened the change of mentality that introduces into conviviality and into the plan of liberation for an alternative world: the Kingdom of God.

After the three years of the Son's public life, there is a ‘fourth year’ that extends to the history of the Church (vv. 7-9).

It does not want to conceal the luxuriance of life but to make it blossom, and without ceasing recalls a flourishing growth; for a feeling of Family with sweetest fruit, which is not satisfied with external practices.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, the Lord still dreams of a «plan that would set great goals for the development of our entire human family» (n.16).

For this purpose «we need to think of ourselves more and more as a single family dwelling in a common home. Such care does not interest those economic powers that demand quick profits» (n.17).

The hasty logic - as well as the epidermal rush of the society of events - creates inequalities, not only in the commercial field.

In short, everything becomes an opportunity for the Eternal’s flowering and action ground, history that is truly ours: teaching of authentic theology and humanization - if the people’s story unfolds ‘on the way’.

The God of religion has his own claims and does not appear long-suffering. The Father of Jesus knows how to wait. He does not get angry, he does not give in to the frenzy of blow for blow. He is not disinterested, but not complain; nor take revenge.

He proposes solutions.

In doing so He will not cause irreparable trouble - indeed will astound us. For a new Spring, in which the fig tree gives its unrepeatable sugary, juicy and highly energetic Fruit - before the many leaves.

So that ‘fraternity’ does not «remain just another vague ideal» (n.109).

[Saturday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 25, 2025]

Conversion and Times

(Luke 13:1-9)

Conversion refers to a process that shakes the soul, because of an Encounter. A rediscovery that opens to self-knowledge.

A dialogue that projects mind and actions onto reality and Mystery, which incessantly refer back to a new Exodus.

Even today, the swampy counterpart to the life of Faith wedges in like a constant woodworm, and is symbolized by a barren confrontation, expressed in the absence of fruit above an unnecessarily leafy tree.

The vineyard is iconic of the Chosen People and the fig tree of its central prosperity. Here it evokes the Temple, particularly its liturgical core: the Sanctuary.

According to religious prejudices - of class, purity conditions, ministry, progressive skimming - within strictly demarcated perimeters homage was paid to the God of Israel.

The worship that took place in the sacred zone of the vast Mount Zion area was to express the praise of a people in constant listening, called to a life of sharing and fraternity.

The delicious fruits that the Lord awaited should have been sweet and tender (like figs); conversely, they turned out to be hard and inedible. His Appeal had been let fall on deaf ears.

The many and conspicuous "leaves" of the devout rite did not celebrate a life of acceptance and understanding, but tended precisely to hide the bitter berries of a style in nothing in accordance with the divine plan.

We ask ourselves: how much time do we have to amend and not regress, living fully in the present? Is the Father's governing action punitive or only responsible and life-giving?

In the parable of the barren fig tree we learn: the only condition that can change a history of infertility and squalor - as well as the danger of formalism - is the time still needed to assimilate the Word.

Forward process, linked to the unpredictable manner in which the vital Call of the Seed and the particular outreach of its roots intertwines with the soil of the soul, then overflows in relation to happenings.

Call that does not cease; in whose reverberation is elaborated and strengthened the change of mentality that ushers in the mutual hospitable of convivialities and the design of liberation for an alternative world: the Kingdom of God.

Now in the hands of a useless and corrupt caste that had allowed the vital relationship to be extinguished, the threads of the ignored design of Salvation and Justice (in the sense first and foremost of authentic God-man positions and just relationships) are reknotted by the intensity of Father-Son relationship.

After the three years of public life, there is a "fourth year" that extends to the history of the Church (vv.7-9).

It is not meant to conceal the luxuriance of life but to make it blossom, and without ceasing it calls forth a flourishing growth; for a feeling of Family with the sweetest fruit, which is not satisfied with outward practices.

In order to overcome conditionings, suspicions, blockages, failures, there is a need for breath: it involves treading a long path of exploration.

There are no shortcuts, no useful U-conversions according to the code of official authorities, perpetually committed to mitigating and homologating charismatic peaks.

Indeed, Jesus had invited the crowds to have independent thinking and judgment (Luke 12:57: "Now why do you not judge for yourselves also what is right?").

Woe betide to be subjugated, accepting omertà out of calculation or fear. Our dignity and the missionary wealth to which God calls are at stake.

This is why the authorities considered Jesus to be like a Galilean: subversive and rebellious.

He suffers another intimidation by proxies of religious leaders (Lk 13:1). We seem to be witnessing a scene of prevarication with which we may be familiar.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, the Lord still dreams of a project "with great goals, for the development of all humanity (No. 16)."

For this purpose "we need to constitute ourselves into a 'we' that inhabits the Common House. Such care does not interest the economic powers that need quick revenues" (n.17).

The rushed logic - as well as the epidermic haste of the society of events - creates inequalities, not only in the mercantile field.

In short, everything becomes opportunity for flourishing and ground for action of the Eternal, history truly ours: magisterium of authentic theology and humanization-if the story of the people unfolds on the way.

In the processes that trigger a history of redemption according to Gospel logic, the memory of the past does not alienate but interpellates: it does not trivially provide inert indefectible criteria for judging the present and obtaining repercussions or predictive capacities for the future.

The creed of philosophical-religious idealism may be a cocoon in which to lull oneself, but from the attentive and propulsive Faith flows a life of love that is also unpredictable, capable of inexplicable recoveries: it demands personal judgment and new grit in situation.

Harmful to dust off and readjust old things or one-sided dreams.It is necessary to have open eyes and at the same time to give time, so that we overcome the fatalisms of archaic monotheism, the sentiments that confuse intimist emotionalism with passion for the things of God, the reductionist and schematic fundamentalisms, the illusions that we are already well on the path of conversion.

The God of ancient religion has its demands and does not appear longsuffering. The Father of Jesus knows how to wait. He tolerates both stubbornness and careless acceleration.

He does not get irritated, does not give in to the frenzy of blow after blow. He is not disinterested, however, he does not complain; nor does he retaliate.

It proposes solutions.

She reiterates occasions that would melt the hard temper of our idols -- for an evolution toward a renewed masterpiece of heavenly Patience.

It has the style of the mother or at any rate of the parent - close relative - who by dint of caresses and kisses persuades the wayward child to be fed the food that will make him grow (calmly) and thus surpass himself.

In this way he does not cause irreparable trouble - in fact he will astound us.

For a new Spring, in which the fig gives its unrepeatable sugary fruit [never already dry or dried] juicy and highly energetic-before the many leaves.

So that fraternity does not remain "at best a romantic expression" (FT, 109).

To internalize and live the message:

How do you safeguard community living and your transpositions of Faith in Christ? What is the point of homologation in satisfactions, and where do you place your Preciousness?

""Repent', says the Lord, "for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand'", we proclaimed before the Gospel […] that presents us with the fundamental theme of this "strong season" of the liturgical year: the invitation to change our lives and to do works worthy of penance.
Jesus, as we heard, recalls two items of news: a brutal repression in the Temple by the Roman police (cf. Lk 13: 1) and the tragic death of 18 people, killed when the tower in Siloam collapsed (v. 4). People interpret these events as divine punishment for those victims' sins, and thinking they are upright, believe they are safe from such accidents and that they have nothing in their own lives that they should change. Jesus, however, denounces this attitude as an illusion: "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered thus? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish" (vv. 2-3). And he invites us to reflect on these events for a greater commitment on the journey of conversion, for it is precisely the closure of ourselves to the Lord and the failure to take the path of our own conversion that lead to death, to the death of the soul. In Lent, each one of us is asked by God to mark a turning point in our life, thinking and living in accordance with the Gospel, correcting some aspect of our way of praying, acting or working and of our relations with others. Jesus makes this appeal to us, not with a severity that is an end in itself but precisely because he is concerned for our good, our happiness and our salvation. On our part, we must respond to him with a sincere inner effort, asking him to make us understand which particular ways we should change. 

The conclusion of the Gospel passage reverts to the prospect of mercy, showing the urgent need to return to God, to renew life in accordance with God. Referring to a custom of the time, Jesus presents the parable of a fig tree planted in the vineyard. However, this fig tree was barren, it produced no fruit (cf. Lk 13: 6-9). The dialogue that develops between the master and the vinedresser shows on the one hand the mercy of God who is patient and allows human beings, all of us, time in which to convert; and on the other, the need to start to change both our interior and exterior way of life straight away in order not to miss the opportunities that God's mercy affords us to overcome our spiritual laziness and respond to God's love with our own filial love. 

[Pope Benedict, homily parish St. John of the Cross, March 7, 2010]

3. I spoke of fructification, and I am also helped in this by the Gospel, when it proposes - a reading we recently encountered in the sacred liturgy - the simile of the barren fig tree, which is threatened with uprooting (Lk 13:6-9). Man must bear fruit in time, that is, during his earthly life, and not only for himself, but also for others, for the society of which he is an integral part. However, this operation of his in time, precisely because he is "contained" in time, must neither make him forget nor neglect his other essential dimension, of being that is oriented toward eternity: man, therefore, must bear fruit simultaneously for eternity as well.

And if we take this perspective away from man, he will remain a barren fig tree.

On the one hand, he must "fill with himself" time creatively, because the otherworldly dimension certainly does not dispense him from the duty to work responsibly and originally, participating effectively and in collaboration with all other men in the building up of society according to the concrete needs of the historical moment, in which he finds himself living. It is, this, the Christian sense of the "historicity" of man. On the other hand, this commitment of faith immerses the young person in a contemporaneity, which carries within itself, in a certain sense, a vision contrary to Christianity.

This anti-view has these characteristics, which I recall in a manner, albeit briefly.

Man today often lacks a sense of the transcendent, of supernatural realities, of something that surpasses him. Man cannot live without some thing that goes further, that surpasses him. Man lives himself if he is aware of this, if he must always go beyond himself, transcend himself. This transcendence is deeply inscribed in the human constitution of the person.

Behold, in the anti-view, as I have said, contemporary, the meaning of man's existence therefore comes to be "determined" within the framework of a materialistic conception in order to the various problems, such as those of justice, work, etc.: hence arise those multiform contrasts between social categories or between national entities, in which the various collective egoisms manifest themselves. It is necessary, on the other hand, to overcome such a closed and, in the end, alienating conception, contrasting it with that broader horizon that right reason and even more so the Christian faith already let us glimpse. There, in fact, problems find a fuller solution; there justice takes on completeness and implementation in all its aspects; there human relationships, excluding all forms of selfishness, come to correspond to the dignity of man, as a person on whom the face of God shines.

[Pope John Paul II, to the young people of Turin, April 13, 1980]

Unfortunately, every day the press reports bad news: homicides, accidents, catastrophes.... In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus refers to two tragic events which had caused a stir: a cruel suppression carried out by Roman soldiers in the temple, and the collapse of the tower of Siloam in Jerusalem, which resulted in 18 deaths (cf. Lk 13:1-5).

Jesus is aware of the superstitious mentality of his listeners and he knows that they misinterpreted that type of event. In fact, they thought that, if those people died in such a cruel way it was a sign that God was punishing them for some grave sin they had committed, as if to say “they deserved it”. Instead, the fact that they were saved from such a disgrace made them feel “good about themselves”. They “deserved it”; “I’m fine”.

Jesus clearly rejects this outlook, because God does not allow tragedies in order to punish sins, and he affirms that those poor victims were no worse than others. Instead, he invites his listeners to draw from these sad events a lesson that applies to everyone, because we are all sinners; in fact, he said to those who questioned him, “Unless you repent you will all likewise perish” (v. 3).

Today too, seeing certain misfortunes and sorrowful events, we can be tempted to “unload” the responsibility onto the victims, or even onto God himself. But the Gospel invites us to reflect: What idea do we have of God? Are we truly convinced that God is like that, or isn’t that just our projection, a god made to “our image and likeness”?

Jesus, on the contrary, invites us to change our heart, to make a radical about-face on the path of our lives, to abandon compromises with evil — and this is something we all do, compromises with evil, hypocrisy.... I think that nearly all of us has a little hypocrisy — in order to decidedly take up the path of the Gospel. But again there is the temptation to justify ourselves. What should we convert from? Aren’t we basically good people? — How many times have we thought this: “But after all I am a good man, I’m a good woman”... isn’t that true? “Am I not a believer and even quite a churchgoer?” And we believe that this way we are justified.

Unfortunately, each of us strongly resembles the tree that, over many years, has repeatedly shown that it’s infertile. But, fortunately for us, Jesus is like a farmer who, with limitless patience, still obtains a concession for the fruitless vine. “Let it alone this year” — he said to the owner — “we shall see if it bears fruit next year” (cf. v. 9).

A “year” of grace: the period of Christ’s ministry, the time of the Church before his glorious return, an interval of our life, marked by a certain number of Lenten seasons, which are offered to us as occasions of repentance and salvation, the duration of a Jubilee Year of Mercy. The invincible patience of Jesus! Have you thought about the patience of God? Have you ever thought as well of his limitless concern for sinners? How it should lead us to impatience with ourselves! It’s never too late to convert, never. God’s patience awaits us until the last moment.

Remember that little story from St Thérèse of the Child Jesus, when she prayed for that man who was condemned to death, a criminal, who did not want to receive the comfort of the Church. He rejected the priest, he didn’t want [forgiveness], he wanted to die like that. And she prayed in the convent, and when, at the moment of being executed, the man turned to the priest, took the Crucifix and kissed it. The patience of God! He does the same with us, with all of us. How many times, we don’t know — we’ll know in heaven — but how many times we are there, there ... [about to fall off the edge] and the Lord saves us. He saves us because he has great patience with us. And this is his mercy. It’s never too late to convert, but it’s urgent. Now is the time! Let us begin today.

May the Virgin Mary sustain us, so that we can open our hearts to the grace of God, to his mercy; and may she help us to never judge others, but rather to allow ourselves to be struck by daily misfortunes and to make a serious examination of our consciences and to repent.

[Pope Francis, Angelus February 28, 2016]

The room of Happiness, in the decisive horizon

(Lk 12:54-59)

«Now, why don’t you judge also for yourselves what is right?» (v.57).

From nature and events we must know how to draw lessons - even for the horizon of Mystery.

In Christ we have the capacity for thought and everyone is made autonomous: from the externality of things we are brought back to the Origin of what happens.

Jesus' appeal on the Signs of Time was the inspirational text of Pope John for the convocation of the Second Vatican Council, so that the Church might question herself, paying greater attention to God’s Calls  in history and to the hopes of humanity.

Predictability did not change spiritual pace; in each, its foreseeability did not allow the soul to see far.

In fact, Love is never according to chained, normal expectations or convictions, without new astonishing satisfactions.

Mass ideas are distracted, harnessed, by conformist thoughts. The never tested convictions wither the gaze, place the character impulses on dead tracks.

They generate paths that revolve around and suspend the realization, the ability to perceive the possibilities of the inner world; as well as opportunities for communion.

It’s the heart that sees the slightest possibilities. It grasps them on perennial questions, in a relationship of reciprocity with the meaning of present life.

And Jesus wants our plant to throw new leaves again. Because what we believe belongs to us, is already lost.

Then the invitation to Conversion - instead of stranding the soul and thought on models - makes attentive to the polyhedron of Friendship with ourselves, with our brothers and sisters even distant, and all things, now.

World of relationship that nothing considers irrelevant - and can make us enrich [if unlocked] with adventurous, fresh, lively discrepancies, which appear from free energies that do not want standard life; together.

Radical change is... not just thinking about fast consent, about immediate (even banal) interests that you don’t really want - and we know doesn’t work: it wouldn’t upset anything.

The Moment to discover the contents and not leave us be dazed, the present chance, the spirit of the pilgrim, the recognition of cultures... have a decisive character for the evolution of life in the Spirit.

It does not rest on the coded, enlisted protagonism, which already knows where it is going - and so it runs aground, adapts, loses sight of us, makes us interdicted. It reaps victims of illusions, of external friction; poisoning the road with muscular approaches and too much thoughts.

Compliments outside do not bring the I and the you back to the Roots, nor do they explode for the true future, the one to be lived intensely, which will make us vibrate.

Here is the «Present Moment»: the door to be opened to enter the room of happy energy, which remains magmatic - unceasing gift, ‘anointing’ and Vision that we do not know.

Astonishment that invites and leads far beyond the homologising, conformist, one-sided aspect - of din, cliché, tacticism, or other people's age to be reproduced.

To internalize and live the message:

How do you live the tension between the vision of the genius of time and the present moment?

What relationship do you see between God’s Promise and our hopes?

[Friday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 24, 2025]