2. "Joseph, Son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins" (Mt 1:20-21).

In these words we find the core of biblical truth about St. Joseph; they refer to that moment in his life to which the Fathers of the Church make special reference.

The Evangelist Matthew explains the significance of this moment while also describing how Joseph lived it. However, in order to understand fully both its content and context, it is important to keep in mind the parallel passage in the Gospel of Luke. In Matthew we read: "Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child of the Holy Spirit" (Mt 1:18). However, the origin of Mary's pregnancy "of the Holy Spirit" is described more fully and explicitly in what Luke tells us about the annunciation of Jesus' birth: "The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary" (Lk 1:26-27). The angel's greeting: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you" (Lk 1:28) created an inner turmoil in Mary and also moved her to reflect. Then the messenger reassured the Virgin and at the same time revealed God's special plan for her: "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David" (Lk 1:30-32).

A little earlier the Gospel writer had stated that at the moment of the Annunciation, Mary was "betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David." The nature of this "marriage" is explained indirectly when Mary, after hearing what the messenger says about the birth of the child, asks, "How can this be, since I do not know man?" (Lk 1:34) The angel responds: "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God" (Lk 1:35). Although Mary is already "wedded" to Joseph, she will remain a virgin, because the child conceived in her at the Annunciation was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit.

At this point Luke's text coincides with Matthew 1:18 and serves to explain what we read there. If, after her marriage to Joseph, Mary is found to be with child of the Holy Spirit," this fact corresponds to all that the Annunciation means, in particular to Mary's final words: "Let it be to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38). In response to what is clearly the plan of God, with the passing of days and weeks Mary's "pregnancy" is visible to the people and to Joseph; she appears before them as one who must give birth and carry within herself the mystery of motherhood.

3. In these circumstances, "her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to send her away quietly" (Mt 1:19). He did not know how to deal with Mary's "astonishing" motherhood. He certainly sought an answer to this unsettling question, but above all he sought a way out of what was for him a difficult situation. "But as he considered this, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit; she will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins'" (Mt 1:20-21).

There is a strict parallel between the "annunciation" in Matthew's text and the one in Luke. The divine messenger introduces Joseph to the mystery of Mary's motherhood. While remaining a virgin, she who by law is his "spouse" has become a mother through the power of the Holy Spirit. And when the Son in Mary's womb comes into the world, he must receive the name Jesus. This was a name known among the Israelites and sometimes given to their sons. In this case, however, it is the Son who, in accordance with the divine promise, will bring to perfect fulfillment the meaning of the name Jesus-Yehos ua' - which means "God saves."

Joseph is visited by the messenger as "Mary's spouse," as the one who in due time must give this name to the Son to be born of the Virgin of Nazareth who is married to him. It is to Joseph, then, that the messenger turns, entrusting to him the responsibilities of an earthly father with regard to Mary's Son.

"When Joseph woke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him and took Mary as his wife" (cf. Mt 1:24). He took her in all the mystery of her motherhood. He took her together with the Son who had come into the world by the power of the Holy Spirit. In this way he showed a readiness of will like Mary's with regard to what God asked of him through the angel.

[Pope John Paul II, Redemtoris Custos]

Today we will reflect on Saint Joseph as the father of Jesus. The evangelists Matthew and Luke present him as the foster father of Jesus, and not as his biological father. Matthew specifies this, avoiding the formula “the father of”, used in the genealogy for all the ancestors of Jesus; instead, he defines Joseph as the “husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called Christ” (1:16). Luke, on the other hand, affirms it by saying that he was Jesus’ “supposed” father (3:23), that is, he appeared as His father,

To understand the supposed or legal paternity of Joseph, it is necessary to bear in mind that in ancient times in the East the institution of adoption was very common, more so than today. Think of the common case in Israel of the “levirate”, as formulated in Deuteronomy: “If brothers dwell together, and one of them dies and has no son, the wife of the dead shall not be married outside the family to a stranger; her husband’s brother shall go in to her, and take her as his wife, and perform the duty of a husband’s brother to her. And the first son whom she bears shall succeed to the name of his brother who is dead, that his name may not be blotted out of Israel” (25:5-6). In other words, the parent of this child is the brother-in-law, but the legal father remains the deceased, who gives the newborn child all hereditary rights. The purpose of this law was twofold: to ensure the descendants of the deceased and the preservation of the estate.

As the official father of Jesus, Joseph exercises the right to impose a name on his son, legally recognising him. Legally he is the father, but not generatively; he did not beget Him.

In ancient times, the name was the compendium of a person’s identity. To change one’s name meant changing oneself, as in the case of Abraham, whose name God changed to “Abraham”, which means “father of many”, “for”, says the Book of Genesis, he will be “the father of a multitude of nations” (17:5). The same goes for Jacob, who would be called “Israel”, which means he who has “striven with God”, because he fought with God to compel Him to give him the blessing (cf. Gen 32:28; 35:10).

But above all, naming someone or something meant asserting one’s authority over what was named, as Adam did when he conferred a name on all the animals (cf. Gen 2:19-20).

Joseph already knows that a name had already been prepared for Mary’s son, by God — Jesus’ name is given to him by his true father, God — The name “Jesus”, which means “the Lord saves”; as the Angel explains, “He will save his people from their sins” (Mt 1:21). This particular aspect of Joseph now enables us to reflect on fatherhood and motherhood. And this, I believe, is very important: to think about fatherhood today. Because we live in an age of notorious orphanhood. It is curious: our civilization is somewhat orphan, and this orphanhood can be felt. May Saint Joseph, help us understand how to resolve this sense of orphanhood that is so harmful to us today.

To bring a child into the world is not enough to say that one is also their father or mother. “Fathers are not born, but made. A man does not become a father simply by bringing a child into the world, but by taking up the responsibility to care for that child. Whenever a man accepts responsibility for the life of another, in some way he becomes a father to that person” (Apostolic Letter Patris corde). I think particularly of all those who are open to welcoming life by way of adoption, which is such a generous and beautiful, good attitude. Joseph shows us that this type of bond is not secondary; it is not second best. This kind of choice is among the highest forms of love, and of fatherhood and motherhood. How many children in the world are waiting for someone to take care of them! And how many married couples want to be fathers and mothers but are unable to do so for biological reasons; or, although they already have children, they want to share their family’s affection with those who do not have it. We should not be afraid to choose the path of adoption, to take the “risk” of welcoming. And today, even with orphanhood, there is a certain selfishness. The other day, I spoke about the demographic winter that exists nowadays: people do not want to have children, or just one and no more. And many couples do not have children because they do not want to, or they have just one because they do not want any more, but they have two dogs, two cats…. Yes, dogs and cats take the place of children. Yes, it is funny, I understand, but it is the reality. And this denial of fatherhood or motherhood diminishes us, it takes away our humanity. And in this way civilization becomes more aged and without humanity, because it loses the richness of fatherhood and motherhood. And our homeland suffers as it does not have children, and, as someone said somewhat humorously, “and now that there are no children, who will pay the taxes for my pension? Who will take care of me?”. He laughed, but it is the truth. I ask of Saint Joseph the grace to awaken consciences and to think about this: about having children. Fatherhood and motherhood are the fullness of the life of a person. Think about this. It is true, there is the spiritual fatherhood of those who consecrate themselves to God, and spiritual motherhood; but those who live in the world and get married, have to think about having children, of giving life, because they will be the ones to shut their eyes, who will think about the future. And also, if you cannot have children, think about adoption. It is a risk, yes: having a child is always a risk, either naturally or by adoption. But it is riskier not to have them. It is riskier to deny fatherhood or to deny motherhood, be it real or spiritual. A man or a woman who do not voluntarily develop a sense of fatherhood or motherhood are lacking something fundamental, something important. Think about this, please.

I hope that the institutions will always be prepared to help with adoptions, by seriously monitoring but also simplifying the necessary procedures so that the dream of so many children who need a family, and of so many couples who wish to give themselves in love, can come true. Some time ago I heard the testimony of a person, a doctor — important in his profession — who did not have children, and along with his wife, he decided to adopt one. And when the time came, they were offered a child, and they were told, “But we do not know how this child’s health will progress. Perhaps he may have an illness”. And he said — he had seen him — he said, “If you had asked me about this before coming, perhaps I would have said no. But I have seen him: I will take him with me”. This is the longing to be an adoptive father, to be an adoptive mother too. Do not be afraid of this.

I pray that no one may feel deprived of the bond of paternal love. And may those who are afflicted with orphanhood, go forward without this very unpleasant feeling. May Saint Joseph protect, and give his help to orphans; and may he intercede for couples who wish to have a child. Let us pray for this together:

Saint Joseph,
you who loved Jesus with fatherly love,
be close to the many children who have no family
and who long for a dad and mom.
Support the couples who are unable to have children,
help them to discover, through this suffering, a greater plan.
Make sure that no one lacks a home, a bond,
a person to take care of him or her;
and heal the selfishness of those who close themselves off from life,
that they may open their hearts to love.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 5 January 2022]

(Jn 5:17-30)

The center of Jewish hope was the return to ancient times, which however moved into an indeterminate future ["last day"].

According to the Master, life as saved persons begins now, and from listening to his specific Word-Person (v.24) which supplants every code.

He attributes to himself a total (also juridical) caliber. It replaces the area once believed to be the prerogative of God alone: ​​«He gave all judgment to the Son» (v.22).

Faced with the resounding of the present Logos and the Father's incisive and life-giving Dream which becomes actual, death loses all destructive efficacy.

The aspect of human and operative reality prevails over what to religions seemed to be reserved for the God of Heaven alone, and projected into a perfect future.

The Memorial is now. To redo the triumph - through Golgotha, here.

Impossible to confuse the scope of incessant life with observances.

Difficult to call God with the term Father [Abba, papa] if He transmitted to us the desire to be and to do, only with detachment.

The healing of the paralytic (vv.1-16) has in fact existential traits that pass in divine character. It is not comparable to the results of a doctor's activity, but to the work of the Spirit in us.

The time of man's diminution before the Most High is over: his plan is not for anguish, but for growth - which authentically manifests the Judgment of the Eternal.

Judgment: not of custody of order, but of love and regeneration. Human imprint in transmitting the divine condition (v.18) in fullness of being and freedom, in the intimate experience of his Heart.

Jesus expresses immanence with the Father by expanding his creative work, which is by no means finished: it continues to vivify us.

God supports the universe and our being, so He is always active. Here and now; not on the other side of time - therefore He does not incline to the quiet drowsiness of conscience.

The Father always works, the Son - his first and incessant imprint - imitates his quality of action in continuity.

It is a concrete Pact for the people: His Council all to be implemented, really comes to us.

To this end, He is not afraid to transgress an approximate and narrow precept, an idol of the sacred, albeit very devout, ancient tradition.

Moreover, even in the sabbath rest [!] the Creator blesses and consecrates (Genesis 2,3).

The whole multiple history is in a sort of unity’s principle: time of intervention for salvation and relationship with the Mystery.

Wherever we proceed, those who reflect God do not stun of prejudices on human reality: instead they are already there and remain indefinitely.

Sons in the «Son of man» (v.27) - to dialogue, open, support, give refreshment, make every situation intense and delicate.

Honoring the Most High is honoring humanity in need of everything, at any time.

Only this ‘manifests’ Him, even in ‘infractions’ - a land rich in new springs that shorten distances.

This is the reciprocal and singular Work of God (Jn 6:29): to love, not «works» (v.28) heavy with law and nomenclature.

[Wednesday 4th wk. in Lent, March 18, 2026]

(Jn 5:17-30)

The centre of the Jewish hope was the return to ancient times, which, however, was transferred to an indeterminate future ["last day"].

According to the Master, life as saved begins now, and from listening to his specific Word-Person (v.24) that supersedes every code.

He ascribes to himself a total (even legal) character. It replaces the sphere once believed to be the prerogative of God alone: "He has given all judgment to the Son" (v.22).

Faced with the resounding of the present Logos and the efficacious and life-giving Dream of the Father, death loses all destructive efficacy.

The aspect of human and operative reality prevails over what to religions seemed to be reserved for the God of Heaven alone, and projected into a perfect future.

The Memorial is now. To remake the triumph - through Golgotha, here.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxi): "From ancient times until now, his Name does not pass away, and so he consents to all beginnings. From what do I know the manner of all beginnings? From this'.

Jesus expresses the intimate immanence with the Father by expanding his creative work, which is by no means finished: he continues to enliven us. He sustains the universe and our being, so he is always active.

It is impossible to confuse the scope of unceasing life with observances.

It would be difficult to call God by the term Father [Abba, papa] if He conveyed to us a desire to be and to do, only with detachment.

In fact, the healing of the paralytic (vv.1-16) has existential traits that pass in divine character; it is not comparable to the results of a doctor's activity, but to the work of the Spirit in us.

The time of man's diminishment before the Most High is over: his design is not for distress, but for growth - which authentically manifests the Judgement of the Eternal.

A judgement not of the preservation of order, but of love and regeneration: a human imprint in transmitting to us the divine condition [(v.18); cf. commentary on Jn 10:31-42: You make yourself God, you are Gods] in fullness of being and freedom, in the intimate experience of his Heart.

Here and now; not on the other side of time - so there is no inclination to the quiet slumber of conscience.

Indulgent yes, but because of the falls in the risk - of witnessing at least a crumb of his image within, without the lowest denominator.

In the encounter with the Person of Jesus, we become aware of his resurrection power: devoid of partiality, consistent and objective on the terrain of both life and death, remission, and judgement.

Unceasingly we assimilate his thoughts, impulses, words, actions, charged events: everything becomes a young experience of God revealing himself.

The Father always works, the Son - his first and unceasing imprint - imitates his quality of action in continuity.

It is a concrete covenant for the people: his all-embracing Council truly comes to us.

To this end, he is not afraid to transgress an approximate and narrow precept, an idol of the sacred, albeit devout, ancient tradition.

After all, even in the Sabbath rest the Creator blesses and consecrates (Gen 2:3).

Father and Son are not custodians of tranquillitas ordinis, nor do they induce a drowsiness of conscience.

The whole of manifold history is in a kind of unity principle: time of intervention for salvation, and relationship to the Mystery.

Wherever we proceed, he who reflects God does not stun with prejudices about human reality: instead, he is already there and remains to the bitter end.

Sons in the "Son of Man" (v.27) - to dialogue, to open, to support, to give refreshment, to make every situation intense and delicate.

To honour the Most High is to honour humanity in need of everything, at all times.

Only this manifests him, even in the infractions - a land rich in new springs that shorten distances.

This is the reciprocal and singular Work of God (Jn 6:29): to love, not "works" (v.28) burdensome with law and nomenclature.

To internalise and live the message:

How to be the face of the Father, creator of life, friend and brother, who raises up?

How to recognise the new Covenant and correspond to it? What does it mean for you to believe in the victory of life over death?

You make yourself God

(Jn 10:31-42)

In Jn the term Jews indicates not the people, but the spiritual leaders. A blasphemous Jesus claims mutual immanence with the Father, and dares to expand to us the boundaries of the Mystery that envelops and fills him.

But the divine condition manifested in its human fullness is rejected by the religious leaders precisely in the name of adherence to the Eternal.

The authorities reject the Son in the name of the Eternal and fidelity to the traditional idea, to the irreducible image of the victorious God (from which springs a certain type of competitive society, ruthless even in spiritual life).

According to Jesus, the Father is not revealed by reasoning and cerebral arguments, but by the indestructible quality of 'beautiful' works (vv.32-33). 

The Greek term stands for the sense of fullness and wonder - truth, goodness, fascination, amazement - that emanates from the one action required in any work (major or minor): the love that resurrects the needy.

And Scripture recognises in each of us this sacred spark, which gives all happenings and emotions the step of Vertigo that surpasses the things around us, or how they 'should' be done.

Of course, to support us we need a Face, a relationship and a close kinship to identify what moves us, to peer inside what appears or is aroused.

The Unity of natures - He in us and we with the Father - corresponds to us in the Face of Christ, and is made manifest in listening, welcoming, not rushing to condemn, but making the weak strong.

The symbiosis with God in our activities, with our way of proposing or reacting, throughout our lives, unfolds in each Son His Likeness, even in difficult circumstances.

Everything that happens, even persecutions and assassination attempts due to misunderstanding or spiritual envy, can be looked at from a different perspective.

They are events, external happenings that activate overall energies: they become cosmic outside and acutely divine within us.

Rather than dangers and annoyances, they trace an Exodus destiny - like a river that carries, but in Christ escapes us from the hands of a deadly stasis (v.39), and admirably resonates with the forces that lead to the peripheries - where we must go.

From Son of David to Son of Man

The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces the whole of humanity in his mission of salvation. While Jesus' mission in his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, "to 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. Confronted with the faith of the Centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: "Now I tell you that many will come from the east and the west and sit down at table with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 8:11). This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from the presentation Jesus made of himself not only as "Son of David", but as "son of man" (Mk 10:33), as we also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title "Son of Man", in the language of the Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), recalls the person who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds an entirely 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 man and every man, 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 into this new kingdom, which the Church announces and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

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

44. To protest against God in the name of justice is not helpful. A world without God is a world without hope (cf. Eph 2:12). Only God can create justice. And faith gives us the certainty that he does so. The image of the Last Judgement is not primarily an image of terror, but an image of hope; for us it may even be the decisive image of hope. Is it not also a frightening image? I would say: it is an image that evokes responsibility, an image, therefore, of that fear of which Saint Hilary spoke when he said that all our fear has its place in love. God is justice and creates justice. This is our consolation and our hope. And in his justice there is also grace. This we know by turning our gaze to the crucified and risen Christ. Both these things—justice and grace—must be seen in their correct inner relationship. Grace does not cancel out justice. It does not make wrong into right. It is not a sponge which wipes everything away, so that whatever someone has done on earth ends up being of equal value. Dostoevsky, for example, was right to protest against this kind of Heaven and this kind of grace in his novel The Brothers Karamazov. Evildoers, in the end, do not sit at table at the eternal banquet beside their victims without distinction, as though nothing had happened. Here I would like to quote a passage from Plato which expresses a premonition of just judgement that in many respects remains true and salutary for Christians too. Albeit using mythological images, he expresses the truth with an unambiguous clarity, saying that in the end souls will stand naked before the judge. It no longer matters what they once were in history, but only what they are in truth: “Often, when it is the king or some other monarch or potentate that he (the judge) has to deal with, he finds that there is no soundness in the soul whatever; he finds it scourged and scarred by the various acts of perjury and wrong-doing ...; it is twisted and warped by lies and vanity, and nothing is straight because truth has had no part in its development. Power, luxury, pride, and debauchery have left it so full of disproportion and ugliness that when he has inspected it (he) sends it straight to prison, where on its arrival it will undergo the appropriate punishment ... Sometimes, though, the eye of the judge lights on a different soul which has lived in purity and truth ... then he is struck with admiration and sends him to the isles of the blessed”. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus (cf. Lk 16:19-31), Jesus admonishes us through the image of a soul destroyed by arrogance and opulence, who has created an impassable chasm between himself and the poor man; the chasm of being trapped within material pleasures; the chasm of forgetting the other, of incapacity to love, which then becomes a burning and unquenchable thirst. We must note that in this parable Jesus is not referring to the final destiny after the Last Judgement, but is taking up a notion found, inter alia, in early Judaism, namely that of an intermediate state between death and resurrection, a state in which the final sentence is yet to be pronounced.

47. Some recent theologians are of the opinion that the fire which both burns and saves is Christ himself, the Judge and Saviour. The encounter with him is the decisive act of judgement. Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms and frees us, allowing us to become truly ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives become evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire”. But it is a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally ourselves and thus totally of God. In this way the inter-relation between justice and grace also becomes clear: the way we live our lives is not immaterial, but our defilement does not stain us for ever if we have at least continued to reach out towards Christ, towards truth and towards love. Indeed, it has already been burned away through Christ's Passion. At the moment of judgement we experience and we absorb the overwhelming power of his love over all the evil in the world and in ourselves. The pain of love becomes our salvation and our joy. It is clear that we cannot calculate the “duration” of this transforming burning in terms of the chronological measurements of this world. The transforming “moment” of this encounter eludes earthly time-reckoning—it is the heart's time, it is the time of “passage” to communion with God in the Body of Christ. The judgement of God is hope, both because it is justice and because it is grace. If it were merely grace, making all earthly things cease to matter, God would still owe us an answer to the question about justice—the crucial question that we ask of history and of God. If it were merely justice, in the end it could bring only fear to us all. The incarnation of God in Christ has so closely linked the two together—judgement and grace—that justice is firmly established: we all work out our salvation “with fear and trembling” (Phil 2:12). Nevertheless grace allows us all to hope, and to go trustfully to meet the Judge whom we know as our “advocate”, or parakletos (cf. 1 Jn 2:1).

[Spe salvi]

1. "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ" (Eph 1:3). Paul's words are a good introduction to the newness of our knowledge of the Father as it unfolds in the New Testament. Here God appears in his Trinitarian reality. His fatherhood is no longer limited to showing his relationship with creatures, but expresses the fundamental relationship which characterizes his inner life; it is no longer a generic feature of God, but the property of the First Person in God. In his Trinitarian mystery, in fact, God is a father in his very being; he is always a father since from all eternity he generates the Word who is consubstantial with him and united to him in the Holy Spirit "who proceeds from the Father and the Son". In his redemptive Incarnation, the Word unites himself with us, precisely in order to bring us into this filial life which he possesses from all eternity. The Evangelist John says: "To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God" (Jn 1:12).

2. Jesus' experience is the basis for this specific revelation of the Father. It is clear from his words and attitudes that he experiences his relationship with the Father in a wholly unique way. In the Gospels we can see how Jesus distinguished "his sonship from that of his disciples by never saying "Our Father", except to command them: "You, then, pray like this: "Our Father"" (Mt 6:9); and he emphasized this distinction saying, "my Father and your Father"" (CCC, n. 443).

Even as a boy he answered Mary and Joseph, who had been looking for him anxiously: "Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Lk 2:48f.). To the Jews who had been persecuting him because he had worked a miraculous cure on the Sabbath he replied: "My Father is working still, and I am working" (Jn 5:17). On the cross he prayed to the Father to forgive his executioners and to receive his spirit (Lk 23:34, 46). The distinction between the way Jesus perceives God's fatherhood in relation to himself and in relation to all other human beings is rooted in his consciousness and emphasized by him in the words he addresses to Mary Magdalen after the Resurrection: "Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God" (Jn 20:17).

3. Jesus' relationship with the Father is unique. He knows he is always heard; he knows that through him the Father reveals his glory, even when men may doubt it and need to be convinced by him. We see all this in the episode of the raising of Lazarus: "So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, "Father I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you hear me always, but I have said this on account of the people standing by, that they may believe that you sent me"" (Jn 11:41f.). Because of this unique understanding, Jesus can present himself as the One who reveals the Father with a knowledge that is the fruit of an intimate and mysterious reciprocity, as he emphasizes in his joyful hymn: "All things have been delivered to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him" (Mt 11:27) (cf. CCC, n. 240). For his part, the Father expresses the Son's unique relationship with him by calling him his "beloved" son: as he did at the baptism in the Jordan (cf. Mk 1:11), and at the moment of the Transfiguration (cf. Mk 9:7). Jesus is also depicted as the son in a special sense in the parable of the wicked tenants who first mistreat the two servants and then the "beloved son" of the vineyard owner, sent to collect some of the fruit of the vineyard (Mk 12:1-11, especially v. 6).

4. The Gospel of Mark has preserved for us the Aramaic word "Abba" (cf. Mk 14:36) with which Jesus, during his painful hour in Gethsemane, called on God, praying to him to let the cup of the Passion pass him by. In the same episode Matthew's Gospel has given us the translation "my Father" (cf. Mt 26:39, cf. also v. 42), while Luke simply has "Father" (cf. Lk 22:42). The Aramaic word, which we can translate into contemporary language as "dad" or "daddy", expresses the affectionate tenderness of a child. Jesus uses it in an original way to address God and, in the full maturity of his life which is about to end on the cross, to indicate the close relationship which even at that critical moment binds him to his Father. "Abba" indicates the extraordinary closeness that exists between Jesus and God the Father, an intimacy unprecedented in the biblical or non-biblical religious context. Through the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, the only Son of this Father, we too, as St Paul said, are raised to the dignity of sons and have received the Holy Spirit who prompts us to cry "Abba! Father!" (cf. Rom 8:15; Gal 4:6). This simple, childish expression in daily use in Jesus' time and among all peoples thus acquired a highly significant doctrinal meaning to express the unique divine fatherhood in relation to Jesus and his disciples.

5. Although he felt united with the Father in so intimate a way, Jesus admitted that he did not know the hour of the final and decisive coming of the kingdom. "But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only" (Mt 24:36). This is an indication of the "emptying of himself" proper to the Incarnation, which conceals the eschatological end of the world from his human nature. In this way Jesus disappoints human calculations in order to invite us to be watchful and to trust in the Father's providential intervention. On the other hand, from the standpoint of the Gospels, the intimacy and absoluteness of his being "Son" is in no way prejudiced by this lack of knowledge. On the contrary, precisely because he is so united with us, he becomes crucial for us before the Father: "Every one who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven; but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 10:32f.)

Acknowledging Jesus before men is indispensable for being acknowledged by him before the Father. In other words, our filial relationship with the heavenly Father depends on our courageous fidelity to Jesus, his beloved Son.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 3 March 1999]

Through the Eucharistic celebration the Holy Spirit makes us participants in the divine life that is able to transfigure our whole mortal being. In his passage from death to life, from time to eternity, the Lord Jesus also draws us with him to experience the Passover. In the Mass we celebrate Passover. We, during Mass, are with Jesus, who died and is Risen, and he draws us forth to eternal life. In the Mass we unite with him. Rather, Christ lives in us and we live in him: “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ”, Saint Paul states, “who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20). This is what Paul thought.

Indeed, his Blood frees us from death and from the fear of death. It frees us not only from the dominion of physical death, but from the spiritual death which is evil, sin, which catches us each time we fall victim to our own sin or that of others. Thus our life becomes polluted; it loses beauty; it loses meaning; it withers.

Instead, Christ restores our life; Christ is the fullness of life, and when he faced death he destroyed it forever: “By rising he destroyed death and restored life” (cf. Eucharistic Prayer iv). Christ’s Passover is the definitive victory over death, because he transformed his death in the supreme act of love. He died out of love! And in the Eucharist, he wishes to communicate this, his paschal, victorious love, to us. If we receive him with faith, we too can truly love God and neighbour; we can love as he loved us, by giving our life.

If Christ’s love is within me, I can give myself fully to others, in the interior certainty that even if the other were to wound me I would not die; otherwise I should defend myself. The martyrs gave their own lives in this certainty of Christ’s victory over death. Only if we experience this power of Christ, the power of his love, are we truly free to give ourselves without fear. This is the Mass: to enter this passion, death, resurrection, ascension of Jesus; when we go to Mass it is as if were going to Calvary itself. But consider: whether at the moment of Mass we go to Calvary — let us ponder this with the imagination — and we know that that man there is Jesus. But will we allow ourselves to chat, to take photographs, to put on a little show? No! Because it is Jesus! We certainly pause in silence, in sorrow and also in the joy of being saved. As we enter the church to celebrate Mass, let us think about this: I am going to Calvary, where Jesus gave his life for me. In this way the spectacle disappears; the small talk disappears; the comments and these things that distance us from something so beautiful as the Mass, Jesus’ triumph.

I think that it is clearer now how the Passover is made present and active each time we celebrate the Mass, which is the meaning of memorial. Taking part in the Eucharist enables us to enter the Paschal Mystery of Christ, giving ourselves to pass over with him from death to life, meaning there, on Calvary. The Mass is experiencing Calvary; it is not a spectacle.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 22 November 2017]

4th Lent Sunday   [15 March 2026]  Laetare

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This Sunday is a pause of light in the penitential journey. In the Gospel, Jesus gives sight to the blind man. Laetare means this: light is already overcoming the shadows. Even though we are still in Lent, Easter is near. The blind man's joy is achieved through questioning, rejection and loneliness. Laetare is not an escape from pain, but joy that arises from trial. Laetare is the smile of the Church in the middle of the desert: if I allow myself to be enlightened by Christ, my night is not definitive. The man born blind thus becomes an icon of the catechumen, but also of every believer who, in the heart of Lent, discovers that the light is already present and that Christian joy is born from the encounter with Him.

*First Reading from the First Book of Samuel (16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a)

 Reading this biblical text, we understand that the great prophet Samuel had to learn to change his perspective. Sent by God to designate the future king from among the sons of Jesse in Bethlehem, he apparently had only the embarrassment of choice. Jesse first brought his eldest son, named Eliab: tall, handsome, with the appearance worthy of succeeding the current king, Saul. But no: God let Samuel know that his choice did not fall on him: Do not look at his appearance or his tall stature... God does not look as man looks: man looks at the appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (cf. 1 Sam 16:7).

So Jesse had his sons pass before the prophet one by one, in order of age. But God's choice did not fall on any of them. In the end, he had to call the last one, the one no one had thought of: David, whose only occupation was to tend the sheep. Well, it was he whom God had chosen to guard his people! The biblical account emphasises once again that God's choice falls on the smallest: "God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong," St Paul will say (1 Cor 1:27), because "my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9). Here is a good reason to change our way of looking at people! From this text we draw at least three lessons about kingship in Israel:

First: the king is God's chosen one, but the election is for a mission. Just as Israel is chosen for the service of humanity, so the king is chosen for the service of the people. This also entails the possibility of being deposed, as happened to Saul: if the chosen one no longer fulfils his mission, he is replaced. Second: the king receives anointing with oil; he is literally the 'messiah', that is, 'the anointed one'. God says to Samuel: 'Fill your horn with oil and set out! I am sending you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have chosen a king among his sons' (1 Sam 16:1). Third: anointing confers the Spirit of God. ' Samuel took the horn full of oil and anointed him in the midst of his brothers, and the Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that day forward' (1 Sam 16:13). The king thus becomes God's representative on earth, called to rule according to God's will and not according to that of the world. There is also another great lesson: men judge by appearances, God looks at the heart.  Many biblical stories insist on this mystery: God often chooses the least. David was the youngest of Jesse's sons; no one thought he had a great future. Moses declared himself slow of speech (Ex 4:10). Jeremiah considered himself too young (Jer 1:6). Samuel himself was inexperienced when he was called. Timothy was in poor health. And the people of Israel were small among the nations. These choices cannot be explained by human criteria. As Isaiah says: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways" (Is 55:8-9). The text summarises it thus: "What man sees does not count: for man sees the appearance, but the Lord sees the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). This truth protects us from two dangers: presumption and discouragement. It is not a question of merit, but of availability. No one possesses the necessary strength within themselves: God will give it at the right moment.

*Responsorial Psalm (22/23) 

We have just heard this psalm in its entirety: it is one of the shortest in the psalter, but it is so dense that the early Christians chose it as the privileged psalm for Easter night. On that night, the newly baptised, rising from the baptismal font, sang Psalm 22/23 as they made their way to the place of their Confirmation and First Eucharist. For this reason, it was called the 'psalm of Christian initiation'. If Christians were able to read the mystery of baptismal life in it, it is because this psalm already expressed in a privileged way the mystery of life in the Covenant, of life in intimacy with God for Israel. It is the mystery of God's choice, who elected this particular people for no apparent reason other than his sovereign freedom. Every generation marvels at this election and this Covenant offered: 'Ask the former generations that preceded you, from the day God created man on earth... has anything so great ever happened?' (Deut 4:32-35). This people, freely chosen by God, was given the privilege of being the first to enter into his intimacy, not to enjoy it selfishly, but to open the door to others. To express the happiness of the believer, Psalm 22/23 refers to two experiences: that of a Levite (a priest) and that of a pilgrim. We are familiar with the institution of the Levites: according to Genesis, Levi was one of the twelve sons of Jacob, from whom the twelve tribes of Israel took their name. But the tribe of Levi had a special place from the beginning: at the time of the division of the Promised Land, it did not receive any territory because it was consecrated to the service of worship. It is said that God himself is their inheritance; an image also taken up in another psalm: "Lord, my portion of inheritance and my cup... for me, the lot has fallen on delightful places" (Ps 15/16:5). The Levites lived scattered among the cities of the other tribes and lived on tithes; in Jerusalem, they were dedicated to the service of the Temple. The Levite in our psalm sings with all his heart: "Goodness and faithfulness shall follow me all the days of my life; I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for long days." His experience is an image of Israel's election: just as the Levite is happy to be consecrated to the service of God, so Israel is aware of its special vocation among humanity. Furthermore, Israel presents itself as a pilgrim going up to the Temple to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving. On the way, it is like a sheep: its shepherd is God. In the culture of the ancient Near East, kings were called "shepherds of the people," and Israel also uses this language. The ideal king is a good shepherd, attentive and strong to protect the flock. But in Israel it was strongly affirmed that the only true king is God; the kings of the earth are only his representatives. Thus, the true shepherd of Israel is God himself: 'The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul'. The prophet Ezekiel developed this image at length. Similarly, the Old Testament often presents Israel as God's flock: "He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock he leads" (Ps 94/95:7). This recalls the experience of the Exodus: it was there that Israel experienced God's care, who guided them and enabled them to survive amid a thousand obstacles. For this reason, when Jesus said, "I am the Good Shepherd" (Jn 10), his words had a shocking effect: they meant "I am the King-Messiah, the true king of Israel." Returning to the psalm: pilgrimage can be dangerous. The pilgrim may encounter enemies ("You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies"), he may pass through "the dark valley" of death; but he does not fear, because God is with him: "I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff give me security". Once he reaches the Temple, he offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving and participates in the ritual banquet that follows: a joyful feast, with an overflowing cup and the anointing of oil on his head. We can understand why the early Christians saw in this psalm the expression of their experience: Christ is the true Shepherd (Jn 10); in baptism he leads us out of the valley of death to the waters of life; the table and the cup evoke the Eucharist; the perfumed oil recalls Confirmation. Once again, Christians discover with amazement that Jesus does not abolish the faith experience of his people, but brings it to fulfilment, giving it fullness.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (5:8-14) 

Often in Scripture, it is the end of the text that provides the key. Let us start with the last sentence: 'For this reason it is said: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."' The phrase "This is why it is said..." clearly shows that the author did not invent this song, but quoted it. It must have been a well-known baptismal hymn in the early Christian communities. Awake... rise... and Christ will give you light was therefore a song of our first brothers and sisters in faith: and this cannot leave us indifferent. Thus, we better understand the beginning of the text: it simply serves to explain the words of that hymn. It is as if, after a baptismal celebration, someone had asked the theologian on duty — Paul, or one of his disciples (since it is not entirely certain that the Letter to the Ephesians was written by him personally) —: "What do the words we sang during baptism mean?" And the answer is this: thanks to baptism, a new life has begun, a radically new life. So much so that the newly baptised were called neophytes, meaning 'new plants'. The author explains the song in this way: the new plant that you have become is profoundly different. When a graft is made, the fruit of the grafted tree is different from the original one; and that is precisely why the graft is made. The colour makes it easy to distinguish what belongs to the new plant and what is a remnant of the past. It is the same with baptism: the fruits of the new man are works of light; before the grafting, you were darkness, and your fruits were works of darkness. But old habits may resurface: this is why it is important to recognise them. For the author, the distinction is simple: the fruits of the new man are goodness, justice and charity. Anything that is not goodness, justice and charity is a sprout from the old tree. Who can make you bear fruits of light? Jesus Christ. He is all goodness, all justice, all charity. Just as a plant needs the sun to bloom, so we must expose ourselves to his light. The song expresses both the work of Christ and the freedom of man: 'Awake, arise' — it is freedom that is called into question. 'Christ will enlighten you' — only he can do this. For St Paul, as for the prophets of the Old Testament, light is an attribute of God. To say 'Christ will enlighten you' means two things: first of all, Christ is God. The only way to live in harmony with God is to remain united to Christ, that is, to live concretely in justice, goodness and charity. The text of Isaiah (Is 58) comes to mind: share your bread with the hungry, welcome the poor, clothe the naked... Then your light will rise like the dawn. This is the glory of the Lord, his light that we are called to reflect. As Paul says in his second letter to the Corinthians (2 Cor 3:18): we reflect the glory of the Lord and are transformed into his image. To reflect means that Christ is the light; we are its reflection. This is the vocation of the baptised: to reflect the light of Christ. For this reason, at baptism, a candle lit from the Paschal candle is given. Secondly, a light does not shine for itself: it illuminates what surrounds it. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes: 'You shine like stars in the world' (Phil 2:14-16). This is his way of translating the words of Jesus Christ: 'You are the light of the world'. The Letter to the Ephesians, written directly by Paul or by one of his disciples (according to the then common practice of "pseudepigraphy"), remains for the Church a fundamental testimony of the baptismal vocation, called to pass from darkness to light.

*From the Gospel according to John (9:1-41)

The worst blindness is not what one thinks. Here we hear an illustration of what St John writes at the beginning of his Gospel, in the so-called Prologue:

"The Word was the true light, the light that enlightens every man... He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not recognise him" (Jn 1:9-10). This is what we might call the drama of the Gospels. But John continues: 'Yet to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to become children of God'. This is exactly what happens here: the drama of those who oppose Jesus and stubbornly refuse to recognise him as the One sent by God; but also, fortunately, the salvation of those who have the grace to open their eyes, like the man born blind.

John insists on making us understand that there are two kinds of blindness: physical blindness, which this man had from birth, and, much more serious, blindness of the heart.

Jesus meets the blind man for the first time and heals him of his natural blindness. He then meets him a second time and opens his heart to another light, the true light. It is no coincidence that John takes care to explain the meaning of the name 'Siloam', which means 'Sent'. In other cases, he does not translate the terms: here he does so because it is important. Jesus is truly the One sent by the Father to enlighten the world. Yet we return to the same question: why was the one who was sent to bring God's light rejected by those who awaited him most fervently? The episode of the man born blind takes place immediately after the Feast of Tabernacles, a great solemnity in Jerusalem, during which the coming of the Messiah was ardently invoked. And the danger of certainties can be great. At the time of Jesus Christ, the expectation of the Messiah was very intense. There was only one question: is he truly the Father's Envoy or is he an impostor? Is he the Messiah, yes or no? His actions were paradoxical: he performed the works expected of the Messiah — he restored sight to the blind and speech to the mute — but he did not seem to respect the Sabbath. And it was precisely on the Sabbath that he healed the blind man. Now, if he were truly sent by God, many thought, he should observe the Sabbath. It was 'obvious'. But it is precisely this 'obviousness' that is the problem. Many had too rigid ideas about what the Messiah should be like and were not ready for God's surprise. The blind man, on the other hand, is not a prisoner of preconceptions. To the Pharisees who ask him for explanations, he simply replies: "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes... I washed and gained my sight." The Pharisees are divided: He is not from God, because he does not observe the Sabbath. How can a sinner perform such signs? The blind man reasons with simplicity and freedom: If this man were not from God, he could do nothing (cf. Jn 9:31-33). It is always the same story: those who close themselves off in their own certainties end up seeing nothing; those who take a step in faith are ready to receive grace. And then they can receive true light from Jesus. This episode takes place in a context of controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees. Twice Jesus had rebuked them for  "judging by appearances" (Jn 7:24; 8:15). It is natural to recall the episode of David's choice: "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). The worst blindness, therefore, is not that of the eyes, but that of a heart that does not want to be enlightened. The man born blind does not only receive sight: he receives a new way of seeing. At first he sees Jesus as "a man"; then as a "prophet"; finally he recognises him as "Lord" and prostrates himself before him. The real miracle is not only the opening of the eyes, but the opening of the heart. Here we also find the wisdom of The Little Prince (novel by A.M. de Saint-Exupéry): "What is essential is invisible to the eye." The Pharisees see with their eyes, but remain blind inside; the beggar, on the other hand, passing through rejection and trial, comes to see the Invisible. The conclusion is this: faith is a journey from external light to inner light. One can have healthy eyes and remain in darkness; or one can have been blind and become a witness to the light. The man born blind teaches us that true sight is recognising Christ as the Light of the world and allowing our hearts to be illuminated.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Jn 5:1-3.5-16)

In the ‘devotion’ of competitive trophies, only the quickest heals, not the neediest.

Jesus prefers to transgress the law than to align himself with the merciless world that marginalizes the wretched.

In the holy places the cult of sacrifices required a lot of water [for the animals to be washed, then slaughtered], especially in the great feasts.

Large cisterns collected rainwater, and public baths agglomerated the sick waiting for help or recovery.

The pools outside were used to clean the lambs before the sacrifice to the Temple, and this old practise gave the water itself an aura of healing sanctity.

Many sick people flocked to bathe in the «motion of the water» [v.3: perhaps due to an intermittent source].

It was said that an angel stirred the waters of the popular baths and that the first person to enter them in the one moment the same waters became restless would be healed.

Symbol of a religion that offers false hopes to the excluded masses. 

Vain expectations attracted the imagination of the sick who did not know the man-God of their destiny.

«But he who had been healed did not know who He was, because Jesus had gone away, there being crowd in that place» (v.13).

The Face of the Son is unrecognisable in the masses pressing around, which is only distracting and content with habitual, exaggeratedly solemn forms.

Abundant conducts purified the Temple and neglected the people. The water flowed, but did not cure anyone - on the contrary, it made the situation worse.

An icon of a rich and miserable religiosity: vain, useless, harmful; that abandons those it is called upon to support.

Scribes taught the law to students in the sacred precincts, and the rabbis received clients under Solomon's porch: at the top the Torah and its trade, at the bottom and outside - close by - the treachery of the poor.

Official institution kept the unsteady at a safe distance, revealing only a ridiculous and brutal caricature of the Father's friendly, hospitable and sympathetic Face.

Crowd of the needy who were given ‘magic’ water [only randomly and by surprise] is a parable of destitute humanity, dramatically lacking everything - even genuine spiritual comfort.

On the other hand, Jesus approaches them on his own initiative (vv. 6.14).

And gets involved - at the risk of his life - with those who are most alone, awkward and clumsy; unables even to receive miracles.

We are ‘sent’ not to deserving and self-sufficient, but to those who are not able to use their ownn means to come forward.

Christ himself does not work in order to be recognized and acclaimed: «He had gone away» (v,13). Nor does He care for us, only to trigger a religious conversion.

He heals by perceiving the need, not so that the sick person ‘believes in God’.

We leave people free to go through their seasons, not stereotypes.

We enter the heart of Lent.

[Tuesday 4th wk. in Lent, March 17, 2026]

(Jn 5:1-3.5-16)

"On the other hand, he performs several gestures on him: first of all he led him away from the crowd. On this occasion, as on others, Jesus always acts with discretion. He does not want to impress people, He is not seeking popularity or success, but only wishes to do good to people. With this attitude, He teaches us that good is to be done without clamour, without ostentation, without "blowing the trumpet". It must be done in silence.

[...] The healing was for him an 'opening' to others and to the world.

This Gospel story emphasises the need for a twofold healing. First, healing from sickness and physical suffering, to restore the health of the body; even if this goal is not completely attainable on the earthly horizon, despite so many efforts of science and medicine. But there is a second healing, perhaps more difficult, and that is healing from fear. Healing from the fear that drives us to marginalise the sick, to marginalise the suffering, the disabled. And there are many ways of marginalising, even with a pseudo-pity or with the removal of the problem; we remain deaf and dumb in the face of the pain of people marked by illness, anguish and difficulty. Too many times the sick and the suffering become a problem, while they should be an opportunity to manifest the solicitude and solidarity of a society towards the weakest".

[Pope Francis, Angelus 9 September 2018].

Jesus would rather transgress the law than align himself with the ruthless world and the inviolable society outside, which marginalises the unfortunate.

In the religion of competitive trophies, of real abandonments and false or trivial hopes, someone by lottery is healed, everyone else is not. Only the quickest heals, not the neediest.

In any case, the vast majority stand by, paralysed by loneliness - conversely, those afflicted ask for life, refreshment; the bubbling song of an authentically sacred story.

At that time, in the 'holy' places, the cult of sacrifices demanded a lot of water [for the animals to be washed, then slaughtered and butchered] especially on the great feasts.

Large cisterns collected rainwater, and public baths (to the north) agglomerated the sick awaiting help or recovery from the very isolation to which they were condemned - according to purity rules.

Pools outside were used to bathe lambs before sacrifice at the Temple, and this method of use gave the water itself an aura of healing sanctity.

Many sick people flocked to bathe in the 'motion of the water' (v.3).

It was said that an angel stirred the waters of the popular baths [perhaps for an intermittent spring] and that the first person to enter them in the one moment they became restless would be cured.

A symbol of a religion that holds out bogus hopes to the shaky, which also attract the imagination of the excluded masses, harassed by calamities - who do not know the man-God of their destiny.

"But he who was healed did not know who he was, because Jesus had gone away, there being a crowd in that place" (v.13).

The Face of the Son is unrecognisable in the throng around, despite the plethora of impeccable guides and devotees - who are only distracting, and content with the customary forms of organisation, exaggeratedly solemn.

Abundant conduct purified the Temple and neglected the people.

An icon of a rich and miserable religiosity: vain, useless, harmful; which abandons to itself those it is called upon to support.

The scribes taught the law to students in the sacred precincts and the rabbis received clients under Solomon's porch, on the Temple esplanade, to the east.

Above the Torah and its trade; below and outside - nearby - the treachery of the poor.

The water flowed into the Temple, but it did not cleanse anyone - on the contrary, it made things worse.

This persisted for an entire era - a "generation" (v.5). Symbology of the 38 years (Deut 2:14) that precisely lacked a welcoming mentality.

The official religious institution kept the crowd at a safe distance, revealing only a ridiculous and brutal caricature of the friendly, hospitable and sharing Face of the Father.

The crowd of needy who were only randomly and surprisingly given magic water is precisely a parable of destitute humanity, dramatically lacking everything - even genuine spiritual comfort.

Jesus, on the other hand, approaches the needy on his own initiative (vv.6.14) and involves himself - at the risk of his life - with those who are most lonely, awkward and clumsy.

He in us: welcoming faces and active presence of the Father, instinctively approaching not the people who matter, but the neglected, the sick - unable even to receive miracles.

We are sent not to the worthy and self-sufficient, but precisely to those unable to use their own means to come forward. 

Those who wobble - and on this there is no need for imprimatur: such a rule is of divine right.

No joy from the authorities - only enquiries.

No matter: no reverential fear. God is not eager to be obeyed; rather, to fulfil us.

Christ himself does not work in order to be recognised and acclaimed ['he had turned away']. Nor does he care for us, only to trigger a religious conversion.

He heals by perceiving the need, not so that the sick person believes in God.

The Tao Tê Ching [x] says: "Let creatures live and feed them, let them live and not keep them as your own". "To speak much and scrutinise rationally is worth less than to keep empty" (v).

Let people be free to go through their seasons, not stereotype them.

Only, let us help open doors that are more genuine and commensurate with the personal journey, even if it is unplanned or uncontrolled.

We are challenged and sent to accompany each one in the unprecedented, all original - guiding not to an already drafted sacredness, but to the plasticity of healthy awareness.

Let us enter the heart of Lent.

To internalise and live the message:

How is it that you live in the Christian community and this Gospel surprises you?

Have you been without help for a long time? Does the Eucharist make you "someone for everyone" and spend yourself, or do you fall back into vain devotions?

Specialists in closure. Psychology of doctors of the law

Lent is a propitious time to ask the Lord, "for each one of us and for the whole Church", for "conversion to the mercy of Jesus". Too often, in fact, Christians "are specialists in closing doors to people" who, weakened by life and their mistakes, would instead be willing to start again, "people to whom the Holy Spirit moves the heart to move forward".

The law of love is at the heart of Pope Francis' reflection on the liturgy of the day at Mass on Tuesday 17 March at Santa Marta. A word of God that starts from an image: "the water that heals". In the first reading, the prophet Ezekiel (47:1-9.12) in fact speaks of the water that flows from the temple, 'a blessed water, the water of God, abundant as the grace of God: abundant always'. The Lord, in fact, the Pope explained, is generous 'in giving his love, in healing our wounds'.

Water returns in John's Gospel (5:1-16) where it tells of a pool - "in Hebrew it was called betzaetà" - characterised by "five porticoes, under which lay a great number of the sick: blind, lame and paralytic". In that place, in fact, "there was a tradition" according to which "from time to time, an angel came down from heaven" to move the waters, and the sick "who threw themselves there" at that moment "were healed".

Therefore, the Pontiff explained, "there were many people". And therefore there was also "a man who had been sick for thirty-eight years". He was there waiting, and to him Jesus asked, 'Do you want to be healed?' The sick man answered, "But, Lord, I have no one to immerse me in the pool when the water is stirring, when the angel comes. For as I am about to go there, another descends before me". Jesus, that is, is presented with "a defeated man" who "had lost hope". Sick, but - Francis emphasised - "not only paralytic": he was in fact sick with "another very bad disease", acedia.

"It was acedia that made him sad, lazy," he noted. Another person would in fact have 'sought the way to get there in time, like that blind man in Jericho who cried out, cried out, and they wanted to silence him and he cried out more: he found the way'. But he, prostrated by illness for thirty-eight years, "had no desire to heal himself", he had "no strength". At the same time, he had 'bitterness in his soul: "But the other comes before me and I am left behind"'. And he also had "some resentment". She was "truly a sad, defeated soul, defeated by life".

"Jesus has mercy" on this man and invites him, "Get up! Get up, let's finish this story; take your stretcher and walk". Francis then described the following scene: 'Instantly the man was healed and took his stretcher and began to walk, but he was so sick that he could not believe and perhaps walked a little doubtfully with his stretcher on his shoulders'. At this point other characters come into play: "It was the Sabbath and what did the man find? The doctors of the law', who ask him: 'But why do you bring this? You can't, today is the Sabbath". It is the man who replies: "But you know, I have been healed!". He adds: "And the one who healed me said to me, 'bring your stretcher'".

A strange thing then happens: "these people instead of rejoicing, of saying: 'How nice! Congratulations!", they ask: "But who is this man?". The doctors, that is, begin "an investigation" and discuss, "Let us see what has happened here, but the law.... We must keep the law'. The man, for his part, continues to walk with his stretcher, "but a little sad". The Pope commented: 'I am bad, but sometimes I think about what would have happened if this man had given a big cheque to those doctors. They would have said: 'But, go ahead, yes, this time go ahead!'".

Continuing in the Gospel reading, one encounters Jesus who "finds this man one more time and says to him, 'Behold, you are healed, but do not go back - that is, do not sin any more - lest something worse happen to you. Go on, keep going'". And the man goes to the doctors of the law, to say, "The person, the man who healed me is called Jesus. That's the one." And we read: 'This is why the Jews persecuted Jesus, because he did such things on the Sabbath'. Again Francis commented: 'Because he also did good things on the Sabbath, and it could not be done'.

This story, the Pope said, bringing his reflection up to date, "happens many times in life: a man - a woman - who feels sick in his soul, sad, who has made so many mistakes in life, at a certain moment he feels the waters move, there is the Holy Spirit moving something; or he hears a word". And he reacts: "I would like to go!". So he "takes courage and goes". But that man "how many times today in Christian communities he finds the doors closed". Perhaps he hears himself saying: 'You can't, no, you can't; you are wrong here and you can't. If you want to come, come to mass on Sunday, but stay there, but do no more'. So it happens that 'what the Holy Spirit does in people's hearts, Christians with a psychology of doctors of the law destroy'.

The Pontiff said he was sorry for this, because, he emphasised, the Church 'is the house of Jesus and Jesus welcomes, but not only welcomes: he goes to visit people', just as 'he went to visit' that man. "And if people are hurt," he wondered, "what does Jesus do? Does he rebuke them, because they are hurt? No, he comes and carries her on his shoulders". This, the Pope stated, 'is called mercy'. This is precisely what God is talking about when he 'rebukes his people: "Mercy I want, not sacrifice!"'.

As usual, the Pontiff concluded his reflection by suggesting a commitment for daily life: 'We are in Lent, we must convert'. Someone, he said, might admit: 'Father, there are so many sinners on the road: those who steal, those who are in the Roma camps...'. - to say one thing - and we despise these people'. But to him it must be said: 'And you? Who are you? And who are you, that you close the door of your heart to a man, to a woman, who wants to improve, to re-enter the people of God, because the Holy Spirit has stirred her heart?" Even today there are Christians who behave like the doctors of the law and "do the same as they did with Jesus", objecting: "But this, this says heresy, this cannot be done, this goes against the discipline of the Church, this goes against the law". And so they close the doors to many people. Therefore, the Pope concluded, "let us ask the Lord today" for "conversion to the mercy of Jesus": only then "will the law be fully fulfilled, because the law is to love God and our neighbour, as ourselves".

(Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 18/03/2015)

[Different opinion].

In all the Gospel commentaries that I know of, this episode of the pool of Bethsaida (John 5:1-16) is a symbol of the PERSEVERANCE of this poor man who remains there, at the edge of the water for thirty-eight years in the hope of being healed, without ever leaving it.

It is also a symbol of the patience we must have with ourselves in our inner struggle against prevailing faults.

One author, referring to this passage from the Gospel, explained that the Lord can ask us even thirty-eight years to grow in a virtue by being patient with our faults.

If the paralytic had been a lazy indolent complainer (and a bit of a hypochondriac, we seem to understand...), the Lord would not have helped him.

The man protagonist of today's Gospel PERSEVERED thirty-eight years, he did not FEAR ACCIDENT for thirty-eight years.

Not only that, he would have remained there until the end of his days, had he not had the reward of meeting Jesus, precisely because of his constancy.

Again, this episode explains the importance of evangelisation (proselytism for Pope Bergoglio).

In fact, this Gospel passage has always been used to explain that no one should confess 'Lord I have none', since the Gospel passage refers to - and must be interpreted as referring to - the sick in spirit.

The expression of the paralytic "HOMINEM NON HABEO" ("I have no man") has become, or perhaps always has been over the centuries, in every Gospel commentary, the meaning of SPIRITUAL INDIFFERENCE towards one's neighbour in need in the soul.

It means that everyone has been indifferent to the needs of his soul, except the Saviour.

(https://www.marcotosatti.com/2020/03/25/ics-al-papa-il-paralitico-a-betsaida-non-era-pigro-ipocondriaco/)