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

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [27 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (18:25–28)

To understand Ezekiel’s prophecy, we must recall the dramatic context in which he speaks. In 597 BC, many inhabitants of Jerusalem were deported to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar’s army. Jerusalem had been devastated, the Temple desecrated, and the population decimated. The exiles found themselves far from the Promised Land and from everything that had given meaning to their lives. Faced with such a tragedy, the question arose spontaneously: ‘What have we done to God to deserve all this?’. At that time, it was widely believed that there was a direct correlation between a person’s behaviour and what happened to them: the righteous are rewarded and the sinner punished. For this reason, the exiles repeated a proverb: ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’ (Ezekiel 18:2). In other words: we are paying for the sins of our fathers and of previous generations.

Ezekiel breaks with this mindset. God says through the prophet: ‘You shall no longer repeat this proverb in Israel.’ No one is condemned to live under the burden of others’ sins. Every person is called to answer for their own choices. And here a great new truth emerges: the past does not definitively determine the future. If the wicked turn away from their ways, practise righteousness and justice, repent and return to God, they may live. ‘If the wicked turn away from all the sins they have committed, […] they shall live’ (cf. Ezekiel 18:21). It is an extraordinarily relevant message: no one is a prisoner of their own past, but it is always possible to start afresh, and this frees people from the belief that they are condemned to pay for the sins of others and restores to them the possibility of hope. No past is so burdensome as to prevent a fresh start. Even in times of trial, God opens up a new path before us. Hope springs precisely from the certainty that God’s mercy always leaves open the possibility of a fresh start.  Conversion, from a biblical perspective, is precisely a change of direction, a ‘returning’ to God. Ezekiel also reminds us that true conversion does not consist merely of words or religious practices: it is manifested concretely in the practice of law and justice, that is, in the way we treat others.

Responsorial Psalm (24/25) 

The words ‘way’, ‘road’, ‘path’ and the verb ‘guide me’ recur several times in the Psalm: ‘Lord, make me know your ways; teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and instruct me, for you are the God of my salvation… The Lord shows sinners the way; he guides the poor in righteousness and teaches the humble his way’. The theme of the journey is characteristic of penitential psalms. God’s Law—that is, his commandments—is like a sort of ‘highway code’. The speaker is a sinner who recognises that he has gone astray, that he has taken the wrong path, and asks God to bring him back onto the right path. It is no coincidence that, in the Bible, to ‘convert’ literally means ‘to turn back’, ‘to turn round’. And it is never too late to turn back. In the first reading, Ezekiel reminded us that a future is always possible: no one is definitively condemned by their past. That is why we can still pray: ‘Lord, teach me your ways’. What is asked of us? First and foremost, not perfection, but humility: ‘The Lord teaches the humble his way’. The Hebrew word anawim, translated as ‘the humble’ or ‘the poor’, refers to those who recognise that they are poor, fragile, without resources and in need of God. They are the ‘poor in spirit’, those who are able to pray simply: ‘Lord, have mercy on me’. Their plea is already a call for conversion: ‘Lord, teach me your way’. And the ‘I’ speaking in the Psalm is not merely an individual, but the entire people. Psalm 24/25 was probably used in penitential celebrations in the Temple in Jerusalem, which is why there is a constant interplay between ‘I’ and ‘we’ in biblical prayer. The Psalm speaks in the first person, but at the end it says: ‘Deliver Israel, O God, from all its troubles’. The ‘I’ therefore encompasses the ‘we’. The biblical person possesses a strong sense of solidarity across generations: the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is the God of their descendants; the Covenant with Noah, Abraham and Moses concerns not only the individual, but the whole people. Today, however, our society often tends to place the individual, their freedom and their personal rights at the centre, sometimes at the expense of the communal dimension. The Bible has taken a different path: it has progressively discovered the importance of the individual without ever separating them from the community. This is one of the great riches of biblical revelation: the individual is not lost within the community, nor is the community forgotten in favour of the individual. We are personally responsible, yet at the same time we stand in deep solidarity with one another. For this reason, in the Psalm, that humble and trusting sinner is at once each one of us and the entire community of believers. Finally, there is a particularly beautiful detail: the Psalm continually plays on the theme of memory and forgetfulness: ‘Remember, Lord, your mercy… Do not remember the sins of my youth… Do not forget me’. It is almost a prayer that God might have a ‘selective memory’: that he might forget our sins and remember his mercy instead!

It is a bold prayer, yet also one of profound humility. Bold, because it springs from trust in the Covenant; humble, because it acknowledges one’s own sin and frailty. Man asks God: ‘Do not remember what I have been; remember instead who You are: merciful, faithful, slow to anger and great in love.’ After all, even in the Old Testament, Israel had discovered something surprising: God is not merely the Judge, but a Father full of tenderness and mercy. And so the prayer of the Psalm can also become our own: “Lord, when I have gone astray, teach me your way. When I have fallen, show me that I can return. When I recognise my own poverty and fragility, guide me. Do not remember my sins: remember your mercy. And grant that my ‘I’ may never forget the ‘we’ of the community of your children”.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Philippians (2:1–11)

On Palm Sunday, every year we hear above all the second part of this text, the part that contemplates the mystery of Christ: ‘Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped’. Today, however, let us focus on the first part, in which Paul explains to us how to live ‘in Christ’. Paul uses this expression at the beginning and end of the passage: ‘If, then, there is any consolation in Christ…’ and then: ‘Have in you the same mindset as Christ Jesus’. Between these two statements, he lists the attitudes that must characterise the Christian life: comfort, love, fellowship, tenderness, compassion. It is no coincidence that these are the very same attributes with which God is described in the Old Testament. Being ‘in Christ’ is therefore not merely a figure of speech. From the moment of Baptism, we belong to Christ; we are incorporated into Him and become members of His Body. This new identity transcends all our differences: cultural, social, economic and physical. We now have a common name: Christians. It is like what happens in a large family: when we meet, before any other differences, we recognise that we belong to the same family. It is this profound sense of belonging that should characterise the Christian community. Paul says: ‘Have the same mindset, the same love, one spirit and one purpose’. It is as if he were telling us: honour the family to which you belong; honour the name you bear. Then comes a surprising expression: ‘Consider others better than yourselves’. This does not mean belittling oneself or thinking one is inferior. The Gospel does not ask us to rank people as superior or inferior. The Kingdom of God does not operate according to the logic of competition and comparison. The point is quite another: to learn to look at others with a positive gaze, almost with an attitude of admiration, seeking to see not what they possess, but what they are. The differences we see – physical, cultural, social, economic – belong above all to the dimension of ‘having’. Paul, on the other hand, leads us into the dimension of ‘being’: ‘ ‘As many of you as were baptised into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ’ (Gal 3:27). When I meet another baptised person, therefore, I must not stop at what is apparent. I must remember that they are a member of the Body of Christ, a temple of the Holy Spirit, and that they have a personal vocation, different from my own, yet necessary to God’s plan. Everyone possesses a gift that no one else can replace. Because of the mission God has entrusted to them, the other person may be ‘better’ than me, in the sense that they possess what I do not possess and can accomplish what I cannot. For this reason, they also need my esteem, my encouragement and my trust. The important thing is not to determine who is worth more, but to know what mission God entrusts to each individual and to the community as a whole. Every person is called to contribute to the building of the Kingdom according to the gift received from the Spirit. Finally, there is a great truth contained in this text: the Kingdom of God is already present, but it has yet to be fulfilled in our lives. In Christ, indeed, God’s plan to reunite humanity has already begun and, through Baptism, we have been incorporated into this reality. But what is already true in Christ must also gradually become true in our daily lives. Our being ‘in Christ’ cannot remain merely an inner reality or a simple religious formula: it must tangibly transform the way we view, welcome and treat others, both Christians and non-Christians. And here we understand the profound link between the two parts of the text. First, Paul tells us how those who are ‘in Christ’ should live; then he shows us how Christ himself lived: not seeking his own advantage, but humbling himself, becoming a servant and giving himself even to the point of death on the cross. For this reason, the Christological hymn is not merely a beautiful contemplation of Jesus: it is the concrete measure of our lives. ‘Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus’. To be Christian, therefore, means allowing the very movement of Christ to enter our lives: not asserting ourselves against others, but giving of ourselves; not seeking to be superior, but serving; not focusing on what the other possesses, but recognising who they are before God. It is in this way that what Christ has already accomplished becomes, day by day, a reality lived out in the Church and in the world. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (21:28–32)

‘Which of the two did the will of his father?’ This question from Jesus seems simple, almost too simple. Once again we find ourselves in the vineyard, as we did last Sunday. A father asks his two sons to go and work in the vineyard. The first replies ‘no’, but then changes his mind and goes; the second replies straight away: ‘Yes, sir’, but then does not go. Jesus asks the chief priests and the elders: ‘Which of the two did the will of his father?’ Clearly, he does not wish to test them with a simple riddle: he wants to open their eyes. The answer is obvious: the first. And it is precisely then that Jesus applies the parable to his listeners: you are like the second son. You say ‘yes’ to God; you are religious people, you know the Law, you await the Messiah and pray for his coming; yet when God sends him to you, you do not recognise him and you do not accept his word. It was the Father’s will that his people—and above all his religious authorities—should welcome his Envoy, the Messiah, Jesus. Herein lies the tragedy that will lead to the Passion: precisely those who seemed best prepared to welcome the Messiah will be the ones who refuse to recognise him. Jesus then utters a very strong statement: ‘Tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the Kingdom of God before you.’ He is not praising them because they are sinners. Their sin is certainly no cause for merit. Rather, they are like the younger son: they began by saying ‘no’, but then changed their ways. What happened? They believed the preaching of John the Baptist. John had called everyone to repentance: ‘Bear fruit worthy of repentance.’ The tax collectors and prostitutes, precisely because they recognised their own poverty and sinfulness, were able to listen. The religious authorities, on the other hand, refused to believe John and later Jesus. Matthew probably links this parable to the events that had just taken place in Jerusalem. At the beginning of chapter 21, Jesus had entered the city and the crowd had welcomed him as the Messiah, shouting: ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ (Ps 117/118:26). But this enthusiasm was not shared by the chief priests and the elders. When Jesus was teaching in the Temple, they asked him: ‘By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority?’ In reality, the problem was precisely this: in their eyes, Jesus did not possess the necessary authority to speak in God’s name. Jesus, as is often the case, does not answer directly. He asks them: ‘Where did John’s baptism come from: from heaven or from men?’ They do not dare to reply, because any answer would have put them in a difficult position: to acknowledge John would have meant acknowledging his testimony about Jesus as well.

That is why Jesus tells the parable of the two sons. It is almost a final appeal for their conversion. Jesus does not wish to exclude anyone: he desires the salvation of all. If he speaks harshly, it is because time is now running out: we are on the eve of the Passion. But what had John the Baptist said? He had denounced precisely that religious self-assurance which prevents conversion: ‘Do not say amongst yourselves: “We have Abraham as our father.”’ It is not enough to belong to the chosen people, to know the Law or to hold a religious position. One must bear the fruits of conversion. Perhaps this was the real problem with the authorities: a certain certainty that they already possessed the truth about God, to the point where they were no longer capable of allowing themselves to be challenged by his word.

The tax collectors and the prostitutes, on the other hand, precisely because they recognised themselves as sinners and the poor before God, had more open ears and hearts. The problem, therefore, is not simply being a sinner or being religious. The problem is becoming so certain of one’s own convictions that one is no longer able to hear God when He speaks in a way that differs from what we expect. The parable thus presents us with a much deeper question. It is not enough to say ‘yes’ to God with our lips. Faith is recognised in our lives. It is not enough to know the Father’s will: we must carry it out. And the question that Jesus puts to the religious leaders becomes, today, a question for each of us: Have I truly entered the Father’s vineyard? Does my ‘yes’ to God find expression in my everyday life? Am I still capable of hearing a word that calls me to change? Or do I think I already know everything about God and leave no room for conversion?

The parable of the two sons goes even deeper than that of the labourers of the last hour. There, Jesus questioned the way we judge God’s mercy towards others; here, he questions our very piety. Ultimately, Jesus is not merely asking us: ‘Do you say “yes” to God?’, but: ‘Are you doing the Father’s will?’ Because in the Lord’s vineyard, it is not only what we say that counts, but the concrete response of our lives.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

From the ancient dream to the embodied relationship

(Jn 1:47-51)

People are convinced by meeting, seeing and experiencing, not by imposing. However, the Eternal’s plan baffles us.

Witness and sharing lead persons to Christ, but they are not enough - because his plan is not as people imagine or propose, as they await and desires it to be.

To the enthusiastic announcement, Nathanael responds with a preconceived skepticism that represents us: what good can come out of the most insignificant suburbs (v.46)?

Why does not the solution to our expectations come from predictable places [Judaea]?

Personal encounter with Jesus and listening to his Word go beyond every obstacle, up to an explicit and convinced profession of Faith.

And like Nathanael, whoever consecrates his life to the study of the Scriptures finds in them Christ himself (vv.45.48-49).

At first perhaps we too approached the Son of God imagining that he had the attributes of King of a chosen people (v.49).

Then the custom with the Person and the vital experience [«Come and see»: sense of the basic Semitic expression of v.46] showed us a much broader Relationship with Heaven (vv.50-51).

In walking the Way that the unexpected Messiah proposes, we perceive the convergence of God’s movement towards men and our longing for him.

It is the realization (and overcoming) of Jacob’s ancient dream.

Those who pursue preconceptions remain to take the cool under a fig tree (cf.v.48), ie he remains linked to the ancient religion [the rabbis taught the ancient Scriptures sitting under the trees; the fig tree was symbol of Israel].

«Israelite without deceit» (v.47): each one is so when, after sifting, he knows how to get rid of common opinions and teachings; when he realizes that they do not coincide with the Father’s plan.

Salvation history aims at «greater things» (v.50) than those already wanted; normal, expected, invoked, calculated, longed for.

From religiosity we will move on to Faith: the best of God’s Dream in us must come. «Greater things» than clichés.

Jesus is Jacob’s authentic Dream, which heralded to a vast lineage; further unfolded (Gen 28:10-22) and become reality.

But no one would have expected that the Messiah could identify himself with the «Son of Man» (v.51), the One who creates abundance where it is not there, and that before did not seem licit it could expand.

The new bond between God and human beings is in the Brother who becomes ‘next of kin’: which creates an atmosphere of humanization with wide outlines - not at all discriminating.

‘True, successful Son’ is the one who, having reached the maximum of human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it in a widespread way - not selective as expected.

It is the flowering and humanization of the people: the peaceful, true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

«Son of Man» is therefore not a stowed, cautious, controlled and reserved title, but an opportunity for all those who adhere to the Lord’s proposal, and reinterpret life in a creative personal way.

They go beyond the firm boundaries, making room for the Gift; welcoming from the Grace fullness of being, in its new unrepeatable tracks.

On this Way, every day we perceive the same impulse that brought Nathanael to Jesus: an instinct of incomparable Presence [Michael: Who as God?], a liberation of the shrunken consciousness [Raphael: God has healed - Rescuer], an astonishing unveiling [Gabriel: Strength of God].

In short, on the new adventures to be undertaken, the invisible world has a special relationship with humanity and creation.

In the soul and in things, we are as if guided on the right path (in an incessant, increasing, unexpected way) even through our anxieties, rebellions, crises and doubts.

[Saints Michael, Gabriel and Raphael, Archangels. September 29]

From the ancient dream to the incarnate relationship

(Jn 1:47-51)

Today's liturgy presents Nathanael's first encounter with the Lord, whom some traditions identify as the apostle Bartholomew.

The purpose of the Call is to follow Jesus; let us see the chain of events. First of all: people are convinced by encounter, by seeing and experiencing, not by imposition.

But the Eternal One's plan takes us by surprise. Witness and sharing lead to Christ, but they are not enough - because his plan is not what people imagine or propose, what they expect and desire it to be.

To Philip's enthusiastic announcement [name of Greek origin], Nathanael [from the Hebrew Netan'El: 'God has given'] responds with a preconceived scepticism that represents us: what good can come from the most insignificant suburbs (v. 46)?

Why does the solution to our expectations not come from the palaces of power, from the exceptional magnificence of the Holy City, or from the proven and selective doctrinal prestige of the observant territory (Judea)?

Nazareth was an insignificant village of hotheads and Galilean troglodytes; Jesus was a carpenter, so he did not even own land.

The expectation of the Messiah was anchored to other manifestations of prestige, wealth, splendour and power (substituting for the authentic experience of relationship and fullness of being).

The personal encounter with Jesus and listening to his Word overcome every obstacle, leading to an explicit and convinced profession of faith.

And like Nathanael, those who devote their lives to the study of the Scriptures find Christ in them (vv. 45, 48-49).

At first, perhaps we too approached the Son of God imagining that he had the attributes of the King of a chosen people (v. 49).

Then familiarity with the Person and life experience ["Come and see": meaning of the Semitic expression in verse 46] showed us a much broader relationship with Heaven (vv. 50-51).

In following the Way proposed by the unexpected Messiah, we see the convergence of God's movement towards men and our yearning for Him. It is the realisation (and overcoming) of Jacob's ancient dream.

Those who cling to preconceptions remain under the fig tree (cf. v. 48), that is, they remain tied to the ancient religion [the rabbis taught the ancient Scriptures while sitting under trees; the fig tree was a symbol of Israel].

By remaining in expectation of magnificence and allowing ourselves to be carried away by standard notions of expected glory, we do not enter into the movement that binds our earth to Love: we will find ourselves increasingly old, bogged down and sterile - incapable of generating new creatures and being reborn.

'Israelite without deceit' (v. 47): everyone is this when - having examined - they know how to discard common opinions and teachings; when they realise that they do not agree with the Father's plan for us.

The history of salvation aims at 'greater things' (v. 50) than those already desired; normal, expected, invoked, calculated and longed for (transmitted by doctrines and 'teachers' as they are).

Even the Plan of Providence is not as people imagine or desire it to be. Situations await us that no one has ever seen before.

'God has given' [meaning of the proper name Nathanael], but everyone must be reborn.

From Nathanael, every believer makes an Exodus to transmigrate to the meaning of the name Bartholomew: 'Son of the well-ploughed field and the land of abundant furrows'.

From religiosity we will move on to Faith: the best of God's Dream in us must come. 'Greater things' than commonplaces.

Jesus is the authentic Dream of Jacob, which foreshadowed a vast descendants; further unfolded (Gen 28:10-22) and became reality.

But no one would have expected that the Messiah could be identified with the 'Son of Man' (v. 51), the One who creates abundance where there is none - and where it did not seem possible for it to expand before.

The new bond between God and human beings is in the Brother who becomes a 'close relative', who creates an atmosphere of humanisation with broad contours - not at all discriminatory.

The 'Son of Man' is the one who, having reached the height of human fulfilment, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it in a diffuse way - not selectively as expected.

'Successful Son': the Person with the definitive step, who in us aspires to the most expansive fullness in events and relationships, to an indestructible calibre within each one who approaches [and encounters divine signs].

It is the growth and humanisation of the people: the peaceful, true and full development of the divine plan for humanity.

'Son of Man' is therefore not a religious title, reserved, cautious, controlled and discreet, but an opportunity for all those who adhere to the Lord's proposal and reinterpret life in a creative and personal way.

They overcome their fixed and summary boundaries, making room for the Gift; welcoming from Grace the fullness of being and character, in its new and unrepeatable paths.Feeling totally and undeservedly loved, we discover other facets... we change the way we are with ourselves and read history.

In short, we can grow, fulfil ourselves, flourish, and radiate the completeness we have received - without any more closures.

On this Path, every day we feel the same impulse that led Nathanael to Jesus: an instinct of incomparable Presence [Michael: Who like God?], a liberation of shrivelled consciousness [Raphael: God has healed - Rescuer], a revelation of wonder [Gabriel: Strength of God].

In short, on the new adventures to be undertaken, the invisible world has a special relationship with humanity and creation.

In our souls and in things, we are guided along the right path (in an incessant, growing, unexpected way) even through our anxieties, rebellions, crises and doubts.

From Son of David to Son of Man

The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces all humanity in his mission of salvation. While Jesus' mission in his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, 'the lost sheep of the house of Israel' (Mt 15:24), it was nevertheless oriented from the beginning to bring the light of the Gospel to all peoples and to bring all nations into the Kingdom of God. Faced with the faith of the Centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: "I tell you, many will come from the east and the west, and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 8:11). This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from Jesus' presentation of himself not only as the "Son of David" but as the "Son of Man" (Mark 10:33), as we have also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title "Son of Man," in the language of Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), refers to the figure who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds a completely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to himself to manifest the true character of his messianism, as a mission destined for the whole of humanity and for every human being, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters this new kingdom, which the Church proclaims and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

[Pope Benedict, address to the Consistory, 24 November 2012]

We are celebrating this Episcopal Ordination on the Feast of the three Archangels who are mentioned by name in Scripture: Michael, Gabriel and Raphael. This reminds us that in the ancient Church - already in the Book of Revelation - Bishops were described as "angels" of their Church, thereby expressing a close connection between the Bishop's ministry and the Angel's mission. From the Angel's task it is possible to understand the Bishop's service. But what is an Angel? Sacred Scripture and the Church's tradition enable us to discern two aspects. On the one hand, the Angel is a creature who stands before God, oriented to God with his whole being. All three names of the Archangels end with the word "El", which means "God". God is inscribed in their names, in their nature. Their true nature is existing in his sight and for him. In this very way the second aspect that characterizes Angels is also explained: they are God's messengers. They bring God to men, they open heaven and thus open earth. Precisely because they are with God, they can also be very close to man. Indeed, God is closer to each one of us than we ourselves are. The Angels speak to man of what constitutes his true being, of what in his life is so often concealed and buried. They bring him back to himself, touching him on God's behalf. In this sense, we human beings must also always return to being angels to one another - angels who turn people away from erroneous ways and direct them always, ever anew, to God. If the ancient Church called Bishops "Angels" of their Church, she meant precisely this: Bishops themselves must be men of God, they must live oriented to God. "Multum orat pro populo" - "Let them say many prayers for the people", the Breviary of the Church says of holy Bishops. The Bishop must be a man of prayer, one who intercedes with God for human beings. The more he does so, the more he also understands the people who are entrusted to him and can become an angel for them - a messenger of God who helps them to find their true nature by themselves, and to live the idea that God has of them. 

All this becomes even clearer if we now look at the figures of the three Archangels whose Feast the Church is celebrating today. First of all there is Michael. We find him in Sacred Scripture above all in the Book of Daniel, in the Letter of the Apostle St Jude Thaddeus and in the Book of Revelation.
Two of this Archangel's roles become obvious in these texts. He defends the cause of God's oneness against the presumption of the dragon, the "ancient serpent", as John calls it. The serpent's continuous effort is to make men believe that God must disappear so that they themselves may become important; that God impedes our freedom and, therefore, that we must rid ourselves of him.
However, the dragon does not only accuse God. The Book of Revelation also calls it "the accuser of our brethren..., who accuses them day and night before our God" (12: 10). Those who cast God aside do not make man great but divest him of his dignity. Man then becomes a failed product of evolution. Those who accuse God also accuse man. Faith in God defends man in all his frailty and short-comings: God's brightness shines on every individual. It is the duty of the Bishop, as a man of God, to make room in the world for God, to counter the denials of him and thus to defend man's greatness. And what more could one say and think about man than the fact that God himself was made man? Michael's other role, according to Scripture, is that of protector of the People of God (cf. Dn 10: 21; 12: 1). Dear friends, be true "guardian angels" of the Church which will be entrusted to you! Help the People of God whom you must lead in its pilgrimage to find the joy of faith and to learn to discern the spirits: to accept good and reject evil, to remain and increasingly to become, by virtue of the hope of faith, people who love in communion with God-Love. 

We meet the Archangel Gabriel especially in the precious account of the annunciation to Mary of the Incarnation of God, as Luke tells it to us (1: 26-38). Gabriel is the messenger of God's Incarnation. He knocks at Mary's door and, through him, God himself asks Mary for her "yes" to the proposal to become the Mother of the Redeemer: of giving her human flesh to the eternal Word of God, to the Son of God. The Lord knocks again and again at the door of the human heart. In the Book of Revelation he says to the "angel" of the Church of Laodicea and, through him, to the people of all times: "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me" (3: 20). The Lord is at the door - at the door of the world and at the door of every individual heart. He knocks to be let in: the Incarnation of God, his taking flesh, must continue until the end of time. All must be reunited in Christ in one body: the great hymns on Christ in the Letters to the Ephesians and to the Colossians tell us this. Christ knocks. Today too he needs people who, so to speak, make their own flesh available to him, give him the matter of the world and of their lives, thus serving the unification between God and the world, until the reconciliation of the universe. Dear friends, it is your task to knock at people's hearts in Christ's Name. By entering into union with Christ yourselves, you will also be able to assume Gabriel's role: to bring Christ's call to men.

St Raphael is presented to us, above all in the Book of Tobit, as the Angel to whom is entrusted the task of healing. When Jesus sends his disciples out on a mission, the task of proclaiming the Gospel is always linked with that of healing. The Good Samaritan, in accepting and healing the injured person lying by the wayside, becomes without words a witness of God's love. We are all this injured man, in need of being healed. Proclaiming the Gospel itself already means healing in itself, because man is in need of truth and love above all things. The Book of Tobit refers to two of the Archangel Raphael's emblematic tasks of healing. He heals the disturbed communion between a man and a woman. He heals their love. He drives out the demons who over and over again exhaust and destroy their love. He purifies the atmosphere between the two and gives them the ability to accept each other for ever. In Tobit's account, this healing is recounted with legendary images. In the New Testament, the order of marriage established in creation and threatened in many ways by sin, is healed through Christ's acceptance of it in his redeeming love. He makes marriage a sacrament: his love, put on a cross for us, is the healing power which in all forms of chaos offers the capacity for reconciliation, purifies the atmosphere and mends the wounds. The priest is entrusted with the task of leading men and women ever anew to the reconciling power of Christ's love. He must be the healing "angel" who helps them to anchor their love to the sacrament and to live it with an ever renewed commitment based upon it. Secondly, the Book of Tobit speaks of the healing of sightless eyes. We all know how threatened we are today by blindness to God. How great is the danger that with all we know of material things and can do with them, we become blind to God's light. Healing this blindness through the message of faith and the witness of love is Raphael's service, entrusted day after day to the priest and in a special way to the Bishop. Thus, we are prompted spontaneously also to think of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the Sacrament of Penance which in the deepest sense of the word is a sacrament of healing. The real wound in the soul, in fact, the reason for all our other injuries, is sin. And only if forgiveness exists, by virtue of God's power, by virtue of Christ's love, can we be healed, can we be redeemed.

[Pope Benedict, homily for the episcopal ordination, 29 September 2007]

1. Our catechesis on God, creator of the world, cannot conclude without devoting adequate attention to a specific content of divine revelation: the creation of purely spiritual beings, which Sacred Scripture calls 'angels'. This creation appears clearly in the Symbols of Faith, particularly in the Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed: "I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, of all things visible and invisible." We know that man enjoys a unique position within creation: thanks to his body, he belongs to the visible world, while his spiritual soul, which gives life to his body, places him almost on the border between the visible and invisible creation. According to the Creed professed by the Church in the light of revelation, the latter includes other beings, purely spiritual, not belonging to the visible world, even though they are present and active in it. They constitute a specific world.

2. Today, as in times past, there is much discussion, with varying degrees of wisdom, about these spiritual beings. It must be acknowledged that there is sometimes great confusion, with the consequent risk of passing off as Church teaching on angels what does not belong to the faith, or, conversely, of omitting some important aspect of revealed truth. The existence of spiritual beings, whom Sacred Scripture usually calls 'angels', was already denied in Christ's time by the Sadducees (cf. Acts 23:8). Materialists and rationalists of all ages also deny it. Yet, as a modern theologian astutely observes, "if one wanted to get rid of angels, one would have to radically revise Sacred Scripture itself, and with it the whole history of salvation" (A. Winklhofer, Die Welt der Engel, Ettal 1961, p. 144, note 2; in Mysterium Salutis, II, 2, p. 726).. The whole Tradition is unanimous on this question. The Creed of the Church is basically an echo of what Paul writes to the Colossians: "For through him (Christ) all things were created, those in heaven and those on earth, the visible and the invisible: Thrones, Dominions, Principalities, Powers, all things were created through him and for him" (Col 1:16). That is, Christ, who as the eternal Son-Word and consubstantial with the Father is "begotten before all creatures" (Col 1:15), is at the centre of the universe, as the reason and cornerstone of all creation, as we have already seen in previous catechesis and as we will see again when we speak more directly about him.

3. The reference to the “primacy” of Christ helps us to understand that the truth about the existence and work of angels (good and evil) is not the central content of God’s word. In revelation, God speaks first of all "to men . . . and converses with them, inviting them and admitting them to communion with himself," as we read in the Second Vatican Council's constitution Dei Verbum (Dei Verbum, 2). Thus, 'the profound truth . . . both of God and of the salvation of men' is the central content of revelation, which 'shines forth' most fully in the person of Christ. The truth about angels is in a sense "collateral," yet inseparable from the central revelation, which is the existence, majesty, and glory of the Creator shining forth in all "visible" and "invisible" creation and in God's saving action in human history. Angels are therefore not creatures of primary importance in the reality of revelation, yet they belong fully to it, so much so that at certain moments we see them performing fundamental tasks on behalf of God himself.

4. According to revelation, everything that belongs to creation is part of the mystery of divine Providence. This is stated in an exemplary concise manner by Vatican I, which we have already quoted several times: "Everything that God has created, he preserves and directs with his providence, 'extending his power from one end of the universe to the other and governing all things with his goodness' (cf. Wis 8:1). 'Everything is naked and open to his eyes' (cf. Heb 4:13), 'even what will take place by the free initiative of creatures'" (DS 3003). Providence therefore also embraces the world of pure spirits, who are even more fully rational and free beings than human beings. In Sacred Scripture we find valuable insights concerning them. There is also the revelation of a mysterious yet real drama that affected these angelic creatures, without anything escaping the eternal Wisdom, which with strength ("fortiter") and at the same time with kindness ("suaviter") brings everything to fulfilment in the kingdom of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

5. We recognise first of all that Providence, as the loving Wisdom of God, manifested itself precisely in the creation of purely spiritual beings, so that the likeness of God might be better expressed in them, who far surpass all that is created in the visible world, together with man, who is also an indelible image of God. God, who is absolutely perfect Spirit, is reflected above all in spiritual beings who, by nature, that is, because of their spirituality, are much closer to him than material creatures, and who constitute almost the 'environment' closest to the Creator. Sacred Scripture offers a fairly explicit testimony to this maximum closeness to God of the angels, of whom it speaks, in figurative language, as God's 'throne', his 'hosts', his 'heaven'. It has inspired the poetry and art of the Christian centuries, which present angels to us as the 'court of God'. 

(Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 9 July 1986)

8. Finally, it is worth noting that the Church honours three figures of angels with liturgical worship, who are called by name in Sacred Scripture. The first is Michael the Archangel (cf. Dan 10:13, 20; Rev 12:7; Jude 9). His name succinctly expresses the essential attitude of good spirits. "Mica-El" means "Who is like God?" This name expresses the salvific choice by which angels "see the face of the Father" who is in heaven. The second is Gabriel, a figure linked above all to the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God. (cf. Lk 1:19-26) His name means 'my power is God' or 'power of God', as if to say that, at the height of creation, the Incarnation is the supreme sign of the almighty Father. Finally, the third archangel is called Raphael. "Rafa-El" means "God heals". He is known to us from the story of Tobit in the Old Testament (cf. Tob 12:15 ff.), which is so significant in terms of entrusting God's little children, who are always in need of care, protection and guidance, to the angels.

On reflection, we see that each of these three figures - Mica-El, Gabri-El, Rafa-El - reflects in a particular way the truth contained in the question raised by the author of the Letter to the Hebrews: "Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to serve those who are to inherit salvation?" (Heb 1:14).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 6 August 1986]

A true act of entrustment to the archangels Michael, Raphael and Gabriel, asking them to help us in the fight against the temptations of the devil, to bring us the good news of salvation and to take us by the hand so that we do not stray from the path of life, thus cooperating in 'God's plan of salvation'. This is the prayer recited by the Pope during Mass celebrated in the chapel of Casa Santa Marta on Friday, 29 September, the feast day of the holy archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael.

"In the opening prayer at the beginning of Mass," Francis immediately pointed out, "we prayed as follows: 'O God, who calls angels and men to cooperate in your plan of salvation, grant us pilgrims on earth the protection of the blessed spirits, who stand before you in heaven to serve you and contemplate the glory of your face.'"

"One thing that attracts attention from the outset," the Pope explained, "is that angels and we have the same vocation: to cooperate in God's plan of salvation; we are, so to speak, 'brothers' in vocation." Angels "stand before the Lord to serve him, to praise him and also to contemplate the glory of the Lord's face: angels are great contemplatives, they contemplate the Lord; they serve and contemplate. But the Lord also sends them to accompany us on the path of life."

"Today we celebrate three of these archangels," said the Pontiff, "because they played an important role in the history of salvation. And we celebrate these three because they also play an important role in our journey towards salvation."

Starting with "Michael — the great Michael — the one who wages war against the devil," explained the Pope, referring to the passage from Revelation (12:7-12) proposed by the liturgy and emphasising: "In the end, when the dragon fought against Michael, when he was defeated, the text says: 'The great dragon, the ancient serpent, the one called the devil and Satan, who deceives the whole inhabited earth, was thrown down.'" The devil is 'our enemy' and this, explained the Pontiff, is 'a vision of the end of the world, but in the meantime he causes trouble, he causes trouble in our lives: he always tries to seduce, as he seduced our mother Eve, with convincing arguments: "Eat the fruit, it will do you good, it will teach you many things"'. And so, "like the serpent, he begins to seduce, to seduce, and then, when we have fallen, he accuses us before God: 'He is a sinner, he is mine!'"

So, Francis reiterated, '"this is mine" is precisely the devil's word, he wins us over by seduction and then accuses us before God: "He is mine, I will take him with me". And "Michael wages war against him, the Lord asked him to wage war: for us who are on our way, in this life of ours, towards heaven, Michael helps us to wage war against him, not to let ourselves be seduced by this evil spirit who deceives us with seductions." Precisely "for this reason, today we thank St Michael for this work he does for the Church and for each one of us, and we ask him to continue to defend us.".

The second archangel, "Gabriel, is the one who brings good news, the one who brought the news to Mary, to Zechariah, to Joseph," Francis continued. Gabriel, therefore, brings "good news and the good news of salvation." He too "is with us and helps us on our journey." Especially when, as often happens, "with so much bad news or news that has no substance, we forget the good news, that of the Gospel of God, of salvation, that Jesus came to us and brought us God's salvation." And it is precisely "Gabriel who reminds us of this, and for this reason today we ask Gabriel to always announce the good news to us." Gabriel, Francis prayed, "remind us of God's good news, of what God has done."

"And then there is the third archangel, Raphael, who helps us on our journey, who walks with us," said the Pontiff. "Michael defends us, Gabriel gives us the good news, and Raphael takes us by the hand and walks with us, helping us with the many things that happen along the way." To Raphael, "we must ask: please, do not let us be seduced into taking the wrong step, into taking the wrong path; guide us on the right path, on the good path. You are our companion on the journey, as you were Tobias' companion on his journey."

The three archangels, Francis continued, "are before God, they are our companions because they have the same vocation in the mystery of salvation: to carry forward the mystery of salvation. They adore God, they glorify God, they serve God." And so, "today we simply pray to the three archangels Michael, Gabriel and Raphael," the Pope invited, suggesting the words of the prayer: "Michael, help us in our struggle; everyone knows what struggle they have in their lives today, each of us knows the main struggle, the one that puts our salvation at risk. Help us, Gabriel, bring us news, bring us the good news of salvation, that Jesus is with us, that Jesus has saved us and gives us hope. Raphael, take us by the hand and help us on our way so that we do not stray from the path, so that we do not remain stationary: always walking, but helped by you."

[Pope Francis, St. Marta, in L'Osservatore Romano, 30/09/2017]

Initiates, circles, prejudices, or different paths

(Lk 9:46-50)

Redemption presents two essential aspects: the Gift of the Call and the aptitude to accept the Proposal.

From wave to wave this realizes a new Creation of the person, of fraternity, of the Church, and of the world.

Thus Faith: a relationship of welcome and incisiveness, wich reverberates; always young. Such is spiritual childhood.

It is for this reason that Greek text speaks of workshop boy, the servant of the house [«paidìon»: vv.47-48] as a model of disciple close to the Lord - ready to shoot in front of every life request. 

Greatness in smallness.

But in this passage Lk joins that of the servant, with an idea of "first period" typical of those who present themselves at the threshold of communities: «mikròi» [v.48: incipients and shakies].

Often those who have less energy.

However, instead of an unconditional welcome, the latter feel the mistrust of veterans, who disdain dialogue and confrontation; always beware of novelties - and the danger of to be "overshadowed".

The unprecedented life that could arise is immediately suffocated or encapsulated by self-styled experts (v.49), neglecting and dampening the renewed God’s Gift to the assembly.

In short, the Community must return to its immediate and spontaneous Principle, without making the arrangements chronic.

The «following together with us» [instead of following Him personally, v.49] is contrasted with the simple richness of spiritual childhood and service, in the wider coexistence and sharing.

We also know in ourselves the cravings for domination; but those who become «minimum», «servant», «voiceless», leave ample room for the strength and tolerant - transmuting - work of life.

The New radiates the unforeseeable divine and human. And the boldness of modesty that listens and has respect for one’s own soul and brother as a gift-proposal, can make everyone find again, from within.

Pure freshness that evokes the joy of Grace; that keeps a clear eye on everything - even on the wiles of others, because they too can make us take different directions.

The place of honor is so coveted, but those who remain unpretentious can be much better available to an unparalleled condition, and to fraternity that respects the vocation of each one.

In this way, let us avoid punctuating the present in Christ with the models (vv.49-50) because in following the Lord not everyone walks in the same mode.

The Coming tide wants to drag us on the territory of growth without mortification: inside, there exists and it is eloquent a secret time and space, that inhabit us.

They resonate in harmony with the Gospels. There is no need to "get back in step" of all time always, nor just find a way out.

Let’s surrender to the young and creative instinct. It would be the journey of Joy: in the new reality and eminent Beauty, from discomfort.

To internalize and live the message:

What nourishes your desire for God, for youth, for brothers and sisters?

[Monday 26th wk. in O.T.  September 28, 2026]