(Lk 12:49-59)

A functional Church? Discernment of the Fire

Flame and Peace, Immersion and division. Not tactical quietism

(Lk 12:49-53)

«I have come to cast fire upon the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!» (Lk 12:49)

The difference between religiosity and Faith becomes clear when comparing the mentality that identifies the biblical Fire with punishment, and that of a sacred Flame poured out with passionate love (v. 49) that evokes the Gift in our favour.

Francis proclaimed: "Praised be you, my Lord, through my brother fire, through whom you give light to the night: and he is beautiful and playful and strong."

For the Poor Man of Assisi, fire was a "noble and useful element among the creatures of the Most High" [Legenda antiqua].

He had a disconcerting relationship of courtesy with "brother fire". Of course, it did not chase away the night in the same way as the sun, but it brought light.

The disciples' fervour, on the other hand, was not much to write home about: James and John wanted it to incinerate their adversaries or the unfortunate (Luke 9:54).

Before Jesus, John the Baptist was still waiting for a Messiah who would immerse everyone in a devouring and avenging bonfire (Luke 3:17).

In the passage in Matthew 19:13-15, for example, the same theme is confused with the purist and fundamentalist zeal of the apostles who wanted at all costs to separate Jesus from his beloved children, who had no intention of submitting themselves.

The fire of Faith announced by the Person and activity of the Son does not consume or corrode; on the contrary, it is like food: full of energy for a complete life, not a destructive or divisive element.

All this brings about the rebirth of people, relationships and the surrounding reality. It changes our relationship with God, with ourselves and with our neighbour. Such is the division proclaimed (v. 51): the dividing line of our calling.

In common devotion, error of judgement or weakness is considered an infirmity, to be pointed out, corrected and punished.

Doctrine and discipline constitute the outer armour of consciences, and worship celebrates and inculcates them [not infrequently in a conformist and poor manner, albeit pretentious].

'Impurities' should not be 'melted' in the divine and providential Fire: only normalised according to atavistic prescriptions or sophisticated ideas à la page.

For life in the Spirit, on the other hand, the focus is elsewhere: personal fluctuations become possibilities; discouragement becomes a new strength.

Feelings of inadequacy, failure and impediments give rise to intensity, exchange, dialogue, new elaborations, the search for other processes; even anger and indignation flare up and stimulate redemption.

Faith is kindled wave upon wave, in welcoming and responding to God who reveals himself, calls and continues to propose - even cross-cultural mixtures that entangle abstract purisms.

"Let us dream as one humanity," emphasises the encyclical Fratelli Tutti (n. 8), rejoicing "in the diversity" that dwells within us (cf. n. 10).

In the imperfection of critical situations, the Father does not throw stones at us, but Bread [not stale - as in ancient ideologies].

Our unsatisfactory situations are also Food and Flame: the boulders that seemed to crush us and made us negative are taken up and become fuel that propels us forward; jubilation that, instead of 'settling us down', makes us grow even more.

Called to collaborate, we participate in the same creative, gratuitous and joyful action of the Lord.

He directs us towards the unprecedented Peace of completeness in the making, of all-round humanisation yet to be acquired.

The Plan of Love evolves and strengthens through concrete events, not excluding the engaging dynamics that spring from the awareness of one's own limits - which should not be swept away.

Faith does not create divisive idols that equate eccentricity with sin, but only looks at them in order to understand, allowing them to melt and blossom from that malleable energetic magma, transfiguring us.

For ancient beliefs, it was unimaginable that the Most High would not feel repugnance for our condition - and that it was precisely on the folds of carnal precariousness that he wanted to build a history of salvation.

Instead, the Son is our accomplice. He even winks at those aspects that the conformist gaze dismisses as imbalances, disorders, illnesses.

He wants to make each of us not a censor or a do-gooder, but a unique masterpiece - not built in a test tube, but unexpected.

The Lord does not standardise or sterilise, demanding unnatural performances or climaxes. It is He who humanises Himself - even in our oddities.

He recognises Himself in that which is mixed with expectations and sweat, even though it is considered unseemly for man [even the devout, or vice versa, the sophisticated] who longs to rise above himself.

Do we feel settled and 'arrived'? Only here is there no 'fire', passion, discovery, genesis, or therapy - and we are not even at the threshold of Faith.

'Incarnation' is the recovery of opposite sides: imperfection becomes a springboard, with its Treasures that we cannot see, hidden behind dark sides.

It is these sides that will then dominate our Desire.

This is the whole game: we start from where we are, and attention to the opportunities of the imperfect present - which we must not rush to disinfect - will make us startle at the unexpected life that rises again there.

The Flame of the Spirit that is building God's Newness lurks in the embers and in the sides considered inconclusive or opposed - it does not place itself in the shop window to immediately stifle instinct.

So it is with the Church: not 'functional', but capable of giving life. Kingdom and territory not marked by tactical pacifism, which anaesthetises.

In this way, Baptism is not a rubric or a coat of grey and common opinion, nor a device that brands, immediately cornering personalities and tensions - but rather an Immersion (v. 50 Greek text).

"Now, why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?" (v. 57).

In Christ, we have the capacity to think and we are made autonomous, for a solid fraternity with ourselves, which has 'stopped' - and which unfolds, revitalising Uniqueness.

By caring for the neglected parts and merging the foreign or dissimilar sides, we are brought back from the exteriority of things to the Origin of what happens.

Signs of the times and present motive (Person)

The room of Happiness, on the decisive Horizon

(Lk 12:54-59)

"Now, why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?" (v. 57).

We must learn lessons from nature and events - even for the horizon of Mystery.

In Christ, we have the capacity to think and we are made autonomous: from the exteriority of things, we are brought back to the Origin of what is happening.

Jesus' appeal on the Signs of the Times was the text that inspired Pope John to convene the Second Vatican Council, so that the Church might finally question itself, paying greater attention to God's calls in history and to the hopes of humanity.

Self-congratulatory security and the pomp of grand forms had dampened the ardent feeling and liberating enthusiasm of the Risen One.

Predictability did not change the spiritual pace; in each person, their predictions did not allow the soul to see far ahead.

The certainties of the codes dampened enthusiasm and caused the faithful to be overwhelmed by routine and petty problems.

Even today, the certainties of structure and circumstance - all established - weaken the blossoming of the present; they do not allow us to perceive and experience what is happening.

Clichés are capable of shifting Vocation from the magical territory where it arises (and knocks within), turning it into a sacramental everyday life that is entirely predictable - approved by the social or ecclesial context consolidated in the territory.

Instead, our founding Eros must be spent now and outwardly, because it lives on passion, not stagnation; it rests on desire and complicity with the Spirit, who with his Fire renews the face of the earth.

But it dies out if we allow ourselves to be carried away by pondered assessments of the forces at play: give-and-take calculations, opportunistic situationalism... even the intentions of others, or purists, and those of circumstance.

Convinced and personal enthusiasm pales in the face of coercion, planning, obsessions with control and verification, without decisive turning points - as if we were in kindergarten.

Love, in fact, is never based on expectations or linked beliefs, normal, without new, astonishing satisfactions - nor does it follow the ideas of a distracted mass, distracted by the usual conformist thoughts that dry up the gaze.

Beliefs that have never been examined or tested place character impulses on dead tracks.

Inculcated certainties generate paths that go round in circles, suspend awareness, and weaken any ability to perceive the possibilities of the inner world, as well as opportunities for communion.

It is the heart that sees the slightest possibilities. It grasps them in perennial questions in a reciprocal relationship with the meaning of the present life.

And Jesus wants our plant to sprout new leaves, all green (not withered). 

No mould: what we believe belongs to us is already lost.

So the invitation to Conversion - instead of grounding the soul and thought in ancient models or abstract, one-sided utopias - makes us attentive to the multifaceted nature of Friendship with ourselves, with our brothers and sisters, even those far away, and with all things, now.

A world of relationships that considers nothing irrelevant and can enrich us (unlock us) with adventurous, fresh, lively differences, which emerge from free energies that do not want a standard life, nor too much attachment to memories, but rather radical change, together.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises: 'This implies the habitual capacity to recognise in others the right to be themselves and to be different' (n. 218).

Radical change is... not thinking only of quick consensus, of our own immediate (even trivial) gain, which deep down we do not really want - and we know does not work: it would not change anything.

This intimate and social appeal must be grasped immediately, here and now, while the human time of grace lasts - God's moment in our favour.

The moment to discover the contents and not let ourselves be bewildered, the present opportunity, the spirit of the pilgrim, the recognition of cultures... are decisive for the evolution of life in the Spirit.

It does not rest on codified, enlisted protagonism, which already knows where it is going - and thus runs aground, adapts, loses sight of us, leaves us perplexed; it reaps victims of illusions and external friction, poisoning the path with muscular approaches and thoughts.

These are fleeting things, such as the fixed and unattractive idol that often enslaves souls: 'what we have achieved' - with its conformist goals, hard-won promotions, the gaze of others...

External compliments do not bring the 'I' and the 'you' back to the Roots, nor do they explode into the true future, the one to be lived intensely, the one that will make us vibrate.

The 'present moment' is simply the door to open to enter the room of happy energy, which remains magmatic - an incessant gift, 'anointing' and Vision that we do not know.

Amazement that invites and leads far beyond the conformist, one-sided, tail-wagging aspect - of noise, clichés, tactical manoeuvring, or the age of others to be reproduced.

'Theatre people! You know how to discern the appearance of the earth and the sky, but how is it that you do not know how to discern this time?

To internalise and live the message:

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

What relationship do you see between God's promise and our hopes?

Faith and Signs of the times

Faith is not a kind of object or ideology (which one may or may not have), but a relationship.

It proceeds from a God who reveals himself, challenges us and calls us by name.

His varied and rich face does not coincide with common thinking, but intercepts our desire for fullness of life, and in this way corresponds to us and conquers us.

It is not a one-off event, but something that springs forth and proceeds in waves throughout our existence – with all the surprises that time brings [which sometimes challenge us, sabotage us or astonish us].

In this relationship, the Faith that arises from listening is kindled when the initiative of the Father, who manifests and reveals himself in a proposal that comes to us, is accepted and not rejected.

In evolution, this dynamic establishes an invisible Presence in the hidden Self, the unquenchable fire of our founding Eros; a perceptible Echo – even in the genius of the times, in the furrows of personal history, in the folds of events and relationships, advice, opposing evaluations and even fractures.

The Relationship of Faith has different approaches. A first stage is that of Faith Assent: the person recognises themselves in a world of knowledge that corresponds to them. It is a very dignified level, but common to all religions and philosophies.

Scrutinising the Word, we understand that what is specific to biblical Faith concerns concrete existence much more than thought or discipline: it has a different character from codes, it is Spousal.

Already in the First Testament, faith is typically that trust of the Bride [in Hebrew, Israel is a feminine term] who has complete trust in the Bridegroom.

She knows that by relying on God-With, she will flourish authentically and enjoy the fullness of life, even when going through unpleasant events.

Faith lived in the Spirit of the Risen One enjoys other facets, which are decisive in giving colour to our journey in the world and to our full maturation and joy of living.

[In everything, it is essential both to listen to Sacred Scripture and to move from the whirlwind of thoughts that fragment our inner eye to perception, that is, to a contemplative gaze that knows how to rest on ourselves and on things].

The third step of Christological faith is precisely a kind of appropriation: the subject identifies himself and, secure in the friendly reciprocity experienced in the Gifts, takes possession of the meek and strong heart of the Lord with a stroke of the hand and without any prescribed merit.

Quoting St. Bernard, Alphonsus Maria de' Liguori states: "That merit which I lack to enter Paradise, I usurp from the merits of Jesus Christ." No arcane procedures or discipline.

Please note: this is not a "proof" of vicarious substitution, as if Jesus had to pay off a debt of sins because the Father needed blood and at least one person to pay dearly for it.

The person becomes intimate with Christ not simply through common belief, but through personal inner action.

God redeems us by educating us.

It is true that by sending a lamb among wolves, its end is sealed. But it is also the only way to teach men – still in a pre-human condition – that competition is not the life of people, but of ferocious beasts.

The lamb is the meek being that makes even wolves reflect: only by appropriating it completely do the beasts realise that they are such.

Thus we can begin to say, 'I' as human beings instead of beasts. 

Of course, only people who are reconciled with their own story do good. But the authentic and full best is beyond our reach; it is not our own production. We are not omnipotent.

A further stage in the journey of life in Christ and in the Spirit is that of Faith-Magnet.

This too takes the form of an Action, because the soul-bride reads the signs of the times, interprets the surrounding reality and her own inclinations. And by grasping the significance of the Future, she anticipates and actualises it.

In this way, we avoid wasting our lives supporting dead branches.

But the final and perhaps even more perfect stage (I would say the summit) of this Faith-Trigger is that of Faith-Wonder.

This is the specific belief in the Incarnation, because it recognises the Treasures hidden behind our dark sides.

These Pearls will come into play during the course of existence [they will do what they must when necessary] and it will be a wonder to discover them.

The broken cocoon will generate our Butterfly, which is not a construction homologated to prototypes, but Amazement.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In this Sunday's Gospel there is an expression of Jesus that always attracts our attention and needs to be properly understood. 

While he is on his way to Jerusalem, where death on a cross awaits him, Christ asked his disciples: "Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division". And he adds: "[H]enceforth in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against her mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Lk 12: 51-53). 

Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of Christ's Gospel knows that it is a message of peace par excellence; as St Paul wrote, Jesus himself "is our peace" (Eph 2: 14), the One who died and rose in order to pull down the wall of enmity and inaugurate the Kingdom of God which is love, joy and peace. 

So how can his words be explained? To what was the Lord referring when he said he had come - according to St Luke's version - to bring "division" or - according to St Matthew's - the "sword" (Mt 10: 34)? 

Christ's words mean that the peace he came to bring us is not synonymous with the mere absence of conflicts. On the contrary, Jesus' peace is the result of a constant battle against evil. The fight that Jesus is determined to support is not against human beings or human powers, but against Satan, the enemy of God and man. 

Anyone who desires to resist this enemy by remaining faithful to God and to good, must necessarily confront misunderstandings and sometimes real persecutions. 

All, therefore, who intend to follow Jesus and to commit themselves without compromise to the truth, must know that they will encounter opposition and that in spite of themselves they will become a sign of division between people, even in their own families. In fact, love for one's parents is a holy commandment, but to be lived authentically it can never take precedence over love for God and love for Christ. 

Thus, following in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus, in accordance with St Francis of Assisi's famous words, Christians become "instruments of peace"; not of a peace that is inconsistent and only apparent but one that is real, pursued with courage and tenacity in the daily commitment to overcome evil with good (cf. Rom 12: 21) and paying in person the price that this entails. 

The Virgin Mary, Queen of Peace, shared until his martyrdom her Son Jesus' fight with the Devil and continues to share in it to the end of time. Let us invoke her motherly intercession so that she may help us always to be witnesses of Christ's peace and never to sink so low as to make compromises with evil.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 19 August 2007]

1. The World Day of Peace this year is being celebrated in the shadow of the dramatic events of 11 September last. On that day, a terrible crime was committed: in a few brief hours thousands of innocent people of many ethnic backgrounds were slaughtered. Since then, people throughout the world have felt a profound personal vulnerability and a new fear for the future. Addressing this state of mind, the Church testifies to her hope, based on the conviction that evil, the mysterium iniquitatis, does not have the final word in human affairs. The history of salvation, narrated in Sacred Scripture, sheds clear light on the entire history of the world and shows us that human events are always accompanied by the merciful Providence of God, who knows how to touch even the most hardened of hearts and bring good fruits even from what seems utterly barren soil.  

This is the hope which sustains the Church at the beginning of 2002: that, by the grace of God, a world in which the power of evil seems once again to have taken the upper hand will in fact be transformed into a world in which the noblest aspirations of the human heart will triumph, a world in which true peace will prevail.

Peace: the work of justice and love 

2. Recent events, including the terrible killings just mentioned, move me to return to a theme which often stirs in the depths of my heart when I remember the events of history which have marked my life, especially my youth.  

The enormous suffering of peoples and individuals, even among my own friends and acquaintances, caused by Nazi and Communist totalitarianism, has never been far from my thoughts and prayers. I have often paused to reflect on the persistent question: how do we restore the moral and social order subjected to such horrific violence? My reasoned conviction, confirmed in turn by biblical revelation, is that the shattered order cannot be fully restored except by a response that combines justice with forgiveness. The pillars of true peace are justice and that form of love which is forgiveness.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 35th World Day of Peace]

The Gospel for this Sunday (Lk 12:49-53) is part of Jesus’ teachings to the disciples during his journey to Jerusalem, where death on the cross awaits him. To explain the purpose of his mission, he takes three images: fire, baptism and division. Today I wish to talk about the first image: fire.

Jesus expresses it with these words: “I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!” (v. 49). The fire that Jesus speaks of is the fire of the Holy Spirit, the presence living and working in us from the day of our Baptism. It — the fire — is a creative force that purifies and renews, that burns all human misery, all selfishness, all sin, which transforms us from within, regenerates us and makes us able to love. Jesus wants the Holy Spirit to blaze like fire in our heart, for it is only from the heart that the fire of divine love can spread and advance the Kingdom of God. It does not come from the head, it comes from the heart. This is why Jesus wants fire to enter our heart. If we open ourselves completely to the action of this fire which is the Holy Spirit, He will give us the boldness and the fervor to proclaim to everyone Jesus and his consoling message of mercy and salvation, navigating on the open sea, without fear.

In fulfilling her mission in the world, the Church — namely all of us who make up the Church — needs the Holy Spirit’s help so as not to let herself be held back by fear and by calculation, so as not to become accustomed to walking inside of safe borders. These two attitudes lead the Church to be a functional Church, which never takes risks. Instead, the apostolic courage that the Holy Spirit kindles in us like a fire helps us to overcome walls and barriers, makes us creative and spurs us to get moving in order to walk even on uncharted or arduous paths, offering hope to those we meet. With this fire of the Holy Spirit we are called to become, more and more, communities of people who are guided and transformed, full of understanding; people with expanded hearts and joyful faces. Now more than ever there is need for priests, consecrated people and lay faithful, with the attentive gaze of an apostle, to be moved by and to pause before hardship and material and spiritual poverty, thus characterizing the journey of evangelization and of the mission with the healing cadence of closeness. It is precisely the fire of the Holy Spirit that leads us to be neighbours to others, to the needy, to so much human misery, to so many problems, to refugees, to displaced people, to those who are suffering.

At this moment I am thinking with admiration especially of the many priests, men and women religious and lay faithful who, throughout the world, are dedicated to proclaiming the Gospel with great love and faithfulness, often even at the cost of their lives. Their exemplary testimony reminds us that the Church does not need bureaucrats and diligent officials, but passionate missionaries, consumed by ardour to bring to everyone the consoling word of Jesus and his grace. This is the fire of the Holy Spirit. If the Church does not receive this fire, or does not let it inflame her, she becomes a cold or merely lukewarm Church, incapable of giving life, because she is made up of cold and lukewarm Christians. It will do us good today to take five minutes to ask ourselves: “How is my heart? Is it cold? Is it lukewarm? Is it capable of receiving this fire?”. Let us take five minutes for this. It will do everyone good.

Let us ask the Virgin Mary to pray with us and for us to the Heavenly Father, that he dispense upon all believers the Holy Spirit, the divine flame which warms hearts and helps us to be in solidarity with the joys and the sufferings of our brothers and sisters. May we be sustained on our journey by the example of St Maximilian Kolbe, martyr of charity, whose feast day is today: may he teach us to live the fire of love for God and for our neighbour.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 14 August 2016]

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [10 August 2025]

*First reading from the Book of Wisdom (18:6-9)

The first verse immediately introduces us to the atmosphere: the author indulges in a meditation on the "night of the Paschal liberation," the night of Israel's exodus from Egypt, led by Moses. Year after year, Israel celebrates the Passover meal to relive the mystery of God's liberation on that memorable night (Ex 12:42). Celebrating in order to relive: the verb "to celebrate" does not simply mean to commemorate, but "to remember," that is, to allow God to act again, which implies allowing oneself to be profoundly transformed. Even today, when the father of the family, during the Passover meal, introduces his son to the meaning of the feast, he does not say to him: "The Lord acted on behalf of our fathers," but "The Lord acted on my behalf when I came out of Egypt" (Ex 13:8). And the rabbis' comments confirm: "In every generation, each person must consider himself as if he had come out of Egypt." The celebration of the Easter night encompasses all the dimensions of the Covenant, both the thanksgiving for the liberation accomplished by God and the commitment to fidelity to the commandments. Liberation, the gift of the Law and the Covenant are a single event, as God communicated to Moses, and through him to the people, at the foot of Mount Sinai (Ex 19:4-6). In the few lines of the Book of Wisdom, we are presented with two dimensions: first of all, thanksgiving: "The night (of liberation) was foretold to our fathers so that they might be courageous, knowing well to what oaths they had given their allegiance" (v. 6). Here we speak of oaths, which are God's promises to his people: a lineage, a land, a happy life in that land (Gen 15:13-14; 46:3-4). "For your people were waiting for the salvation of the righteous, for the ruin of their enemies. For as you punished our adversaries, so you glorified us by calling us to yourself” (v. 7). This is the lesson: by choosing oppression and violence, the Egyptians brought about their own ruin. The oppressed people, on the other hand, received God’s protection. The second dimension of the celebration of the Easter night is personal and communal commitment: “ The holy children of the righteous offered sacrifices in secret and agreed to share both success and danger, singing the sacred praises of their fathers” (v. 9). The author draws a parallel between the practice of worship “offering sacrifices in secret” and the commitment to fraternal solidarity “agreeing to share success and danger” . The Law of Israel has always united the celebration of God's gifts and solidarity among the members of the people of the Covenant. Jesus will also establish the same link: "remembering him" means, in a single gesture, celebrating the Eucharist and placing oneself at the service of one's brothers and sisters, as he himself did on Holy Thursday evening by washing the feet of his disciples.

*Responsorial Psalm (32/33, 1.12, 18-19, 20.22)

 "Rejoice, O righteous, in the Lord; praise is fitting for the upright." From the very first verse, we know that we are in the Temple of Jerusalem, in the context of a liturgy of thanksgiving. Please note: 'righteous' and 'upright' do not indicate attitudes of pride or self-satisfaction, but the humble attitude of those who enter into God's plan because in the Bible, righteousness (for us it would be holiness) is not a moral quality but a gift. "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people he has chosen as his inheritance" (v. 12). The Covenant is God's plan, that is, the free choice by which he wanted to entrust his mystery to a people. It is therefore natural to give thanks for this gift. This is not arrogant pride, but legitimate pride, the awareness of the honour God has bestowed on them by choosing them for a mission, and it is our pride in being incorporated through baptism into his people on mission in the world. Trust comes from faith, and the following verse expresses this experience of faith in another way: The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love' (v. 18). This is a splendid definition of 'fear of God' in the biblical sense: not fear, but total trust. The juxtaposition of the two parts of the verse is interesting: 'those who fear him' and 'those who hope in his love'.  The fear of God is, in reality, trust in God's love, not servile fear, but a response of love, as Psalm 102/103 says: "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him." The only true way to respect God is to love him, as is clearly stated in Israel's profession of faith: "Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength" (Deut 6:4). I return to the central verse: "The eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love." God watched over Israel like a father during its journey through the desert. Without divine intervention, the Jews, freed from Egypt, would not have survived either the crossing of the Sea or the trials of the desert. At the burning bush, the Lord promised Moses that he would accompany his people to freedom, and he kept his promise. When we read "the Lord," we are always referring to the famous tetragrammaton YHWH, which Jews do not pronounce out of respect and which means, "I am, I will be with you, every moment of your life." Ultimately, it refers to the breath of human beings.  The psalmist continues: "To deliver him from death and feed him in time of famine" (v. 19), which recalls the Book of Deuteronomy, where it is said that the Lord watched over his people "as the apple of his eye". The psalm continues: "The Lord is our help and our shield. May your love be upon us, Lord, as we put our hope in you" (vv. 20, 22). This trust is not always easy, and Israel has wavered between trust and rebellion, constantly attracted by idols. This psalm is ultimately a call to firm faith. The author is well aware of his people's uncertainties. That is why he invites them to rediscover the certainty of faith, the only thing capable of generating lasting happiness. He composed this psalm of twenty-two verses, like the letters of the Hebrew alphabet, to indicate that the Law is a treasure that guides life from A to Z.

*Second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (11:1-2, 8-19)

 'By faith': this expression recurs like a refrain in chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews, and the author even goes so far as to say that he does not have enough time to list all the believers of the Old Testament whose faith enabled God's plan to be fulfilled. The text proposed to us this Sunday focuses only on Abraham and Sarah, models of true faith. It all began for them with God's first call (Genesis 12): 'Leave your country, your homeland and your father's house, and go to the land I will show you'. And Abraham obeyed, the text tells us, in the most beautiful sense of the word: to obey in the Bible means free submission of those who accept to trust because they know that when God commands, it is for their good and for their liberation, knowing that God wants only our good, our happiness. Abraham set out for a country he was to inherit: to believe means to live everything we possess as a gift from God. He set out without knowing where he was going: if we knew where we were going, there would be no need to believe. Believing is trusting without understanding and without knowing everything; accepting that the path is not the one we planned or desired because it is God who decides it. Thy will be done, not mine, said Jesus much later, who in turn became obedient, as St. Paul says, even to death on the cross (Phil 2). "By faith Sarah, though past the age of childbearing (90 years old), was able to become a mother." It is true that at first she laughed at such an incredible announcement, but then she accepted it as a promise and trusted, listening to the Lord's response to her laughter: "Is anything too hard for the Lord?" said God. "At the appointed time I will return to you, and Sarah will have a son" (Gen 18:14). And what was humanly impossible came to pass. Another woman, Mary, centuries later, heard the announcement of the birth of the promised son, and accepted it, believing that nothing is impossible for God (Lk 1). By faith, Abraham faced the incredible trial of offering Isaac as a sacrifice, but even there, although he did not understand, he knew that God's command was given out of love: it was the path of the promise, a dark but sure path. From a human point of view, the promise of a descendant and the request for the sacrifice of Isaac are in stark contradiction, but Abraham, the believer, precisely because he had received the promise of a descendant through Isaac, can go so far as to offer him in sacrifice because he believes that God cannot deny his promise. When Isaac asked, 'Father, I see the fire and the wood... but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?', Abraham replied with complete confidence, 'God will provide, my son'. The path of faith is dark, but it is sure. And he was not lying when he said to his servants along the way, 'Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there to worship, and then we will come back to you.' He did not know what lesson God wanted to teach him about the prohibition of human sacrifice, he did not know the outcome of the test, but he trusted. Centuries later, Jesus, the new Isaac, believed that he could rise from the dead, and he was heard, as the Letter to the Hebrews says. Here we have an extraordinary lesson in hope! It is faith that saves us, and the author of the Letter to the Hebrews comments that the plan of salvation is fulfilled thanks to those who believe and allow the promise to be fulfilled through them.

NOTE In Hebrew, the verb 'to believe' is aman (from which our 'amen' derives), a term that implies solidity, firmness; to believe means 'to hold fast', to have complete trust, even in doubt, discouragement or anguish.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (12:32-48)

 This text begins with a word of hope that should give us all the courage we need:

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom." In other words: this Kingdom has certainly been given to you; believe it even if appearances seem to say otherwise.  But Jesus does not stop there: he immediately describes the demands that arise from this promise. For "to whom much is given, much will be required; to whom much is entrusted, much more will be asked." The only dominant thought in the heart of the believer is the fulfilment of God's promise, which frees us from all other concerns:

"Sell what you have and give it to the poor; make yourselves purses that do not grow old, a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Jesus explains what he expects of us with three short parables: the first is that of the servants waiting for their master's return; the second, shorter one, compares his return to the unexpected arrival of a thief; the third describes the arrival of the master and the judgment he pronounces on his servants. The key word is "service": God honours us by taking us into his service, by making us his collaborators. Later, Saint Peter, who understood Jesus' message well, would say to the Christians of Asia Minor: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some believe, but he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to be lost, but everyone to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9). He even goes so far as to say: "You who are waiting, hasten the coming of the day of God" (2 Pet 3:12). It is our responsibility to "hasten" the coming of the Kingdom of God, as we say in the Our Father: "Thy Kingdom come!" It will come all the more quickly the more we believe and commit ourselves to it. Thus, all our efforts, even the most modest, in a mysterious way, are a collaboration in the coming of the Day of God: "Blessed is that servant whom the master, on his arrival, finds doing so. Truly, I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions."  "Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he returns. Truly, I say to you, he will gird himself and have them sit at table, and he will come and serve them." On closer inspection, this happens every Sunday at Mass: the Lord invites us to his table and he himself nourishes us, renewing us with the energy we need to continue our service.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [3 August 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us. In the midst of the holiday season, the Word of God challenges us to give true meaning to life.

*First Reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes (1:2; 2:21-23)

 When reading the book of Qohelet (Qohelet means 'one who calls' or 'the teacher who speaks before the assembly'), also known as Ecclesiastes, one might think that the author is a philosopher; instead, he is a preacher and one of the most fascinating and uncomfortable personalities of biblical wisdom. It is true that his book is classified among the 'wisdom books', but the biblical books known as wisdom books are not philosophical essays in the manner of the pagans or agnostics. They are first and foremost books written by believers for believers; in a sense, they are catechisms. 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity': these are the first words of the book of Qohelet, and perhaps also what best sums it up. 'Vanity' literally translated would be 'breath of breath', something evanescent, and who can boast of holding a breath between their fingers? Another similar expression, very dear to the author, is 'running after the wind' (1:14). In other words, everything to which we devote our thoughts, dreams, energies, activities and time is ephemeral, temporary, fleeting. Everything, except one thing. What is it? The author keeps the mystery alive and only at the end of the book does he reveal that the only important thing in the world is the search for God. In the end, we understand that this is not a disillusioned philosophical meditation, but a vigorous preaching in a veiled form. In the meantime, he describes in a thousand ways the many human activities as futile efforts, a chasing after the wind to grasp a breath between one's fingers. To better argue his point, he has King Solomon himself speak as a man of desires and power, crowned with glory, but a glory that had no future. In fact, several phases mark his life: before becoming king, we know nothing about him except his thirst for power; as king, he was initially admirable for his wisdom and humility, but in the end he fell into idolatry and became a slave to his love of wealth. Qohelet has Solomon speak as if he were taking stock of his reign: a reign of power and wealth (Jesus will say of him: 'Solomon in all his glory'). He had wisdom and sought the great works that fascinate the powerful and wise of the time; all the pleasures of life, and in the end, the failure of his kingdom. With Rehoboam, his son, incapable of wise politics, the kingdom was divided, and worse still, idolatry regained the upper hand and in a few years Solomon's glory vanished. What we read today refers to him: "He who has worked with wisdom and knowledge will leave it to another who has not worked for it" (2:21). Rehoboam, his son and successor to the throne of Jerusalem, seriously lacked wisdom, and from there arose the schism that divided David's kingdom forever. In light of this experience, Qohelet affirms: "All is vanity." We read the same thing in Psalm 103: 'Man: his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field: a breath of wind, and he is no more' (15-16).  In Qohelet there is a true language of faith: God alone knows all mysteries, and every search for happiness outside of Him is vain because only He possesses the keys to true wisdom. Ultimately, even if we do not understand all the mysteries of existence, we know that everything is a gift from God. Those who trust in God will never be disappointed, and wisdom consists in abandoning oneself to God and observing His commandments is the only way to happiness: "Whoever keeps the commandment will know no evil." (Qo 8:5).  In the end, true wisdom is the humility of living life as a gift from God: "Every man who eats, drinks and enjoys well-being in all his labour: it is a gift from God. (Qo 3:13). 

*Responsorial Psalm 89/90 (3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14-17)

The psalm takes us to the context of a ceremony of supplication for forgiveness at the Temple in Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile: the prayer "Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants" (v. 13) is typical of a penitential liturgy.  This psalm is therefore a prayer asking for conversion: 'Teach us to count our days, that we may gain a wise heart' (v. 12). Conversion consists in living according to God's wisdom in order to know the true measure of our days. It is no coincidence that this psalm is offered to us as an echo of the first reading, from the book of Qohelet, a meditation on true wisdom, while the psalm offers a splendid definition of wisdom as the true measure of our days, a healthy lucidity about our condition as human beings. Born without knowing why and destined to die without even being able to foresee when: this is our destiny, and this is the meaning of the first verses we have read: You turn man back to dust when you say, 'Return, O children of men!' (v.3), that is, return to the earth from which I have drawn you. This does not create sadness but serenity because our misery rests on the greatness and stability of God: 'A thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, like a watch in the night' (v. 4). God gives us security because He wants only our good. However, trouble arises when we lose clarity about our misery, as chapters 2 and 3 of Genesis clearly illustrate, recounting the error of Adam, a symbolic character whose behaviour is considered a model of what not to do. "Adam did this or that" does not describe a hypothetical first man, but a type of behaviour, and in this light, this psalm is in harmony with the first reading, where Qohelet has Solomon, the wise king, speak at the beginning, but then seduced by luxury, power, and women who made him an idolater. In the second part of his reign, he behaved like Adam, who turned away from God's wisdom. This psalm invites us to rediscover the wisdom and humility of the young Solomon, because true wisdom is the awareness of man's smallness, which is never humiliating: a trusting, filial smallness. The conclusion is splendid: 'establish the work of our hands' (v. 17), which shows the cooperation between God and man: man works, God gives solidity and meaning to human work.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Colossians (3:1-5, 9-11)

Paul first makes a distinction between "things above" and "things on earth", two different ways of living: behaviours inspired by the Holy Spirit and those that are not. "Things above" are kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, mutual forgiveness, living according to the Spirit, and this is the behaviour of the baptised. "Things on earth" are debauchery, impurity, unbridled passion, greed, covetousness, behaviour not inspired by the Spirit. Paul establishes the link between baptism and the way of life: "if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above" (v. 1). He says "you have been raised," but then he says "you have died" (v. 2), and the words do not have the same meaning for him as they do for us. For Paul, from the resurrection of Christ onwards, nothing is as it was before. To be risen means precisely to be dead to the world and born to a life according to the Spirit, what he calls the realities above. The Christian is a "transformed person who lives in the manner of Christ," and Paul calls him "the new man." He does not despise "the things of the earth"; on the contrary, he will say shortly afterwards: "Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God through him" (3:17). It is not, therefore, a question of living a different life from the ordinary one, but of living it differently: not rejecting this world, but living it already as a seed of the Kingdom, where all men are brothers, as he explains in his letter to the Galatians (3:26-28) and repeats at the end of this Sunday's passage from the letter to the Colossians: "There is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free, but Christ is all and in all." The community of Colossae probably had the same problems as the Galatians and, in particular, the great question that agitated the early Christian communities, namely whether non-Jews who became Christians should take on Jewish practices: dietary rules, ritual ablutions, and above all circumcision. There were circumcised Christians and uncircumcised Christians, and some Jews insisted on circumcision. The answer to the Galatians and Colossians was the same: baptism makes everyone brothers and sisters, and all forms of exclusion are outdated; what matters is being a disciple of Christ. 

NOTE. Some exegetes believe that this letter attributed to Paul was not actually written by him; Paul, in fact, never visited Colossae: it was Epaphras, one of his disciples, who founded that community. According to a very common practice in the first century (called pseudepigraphy), it is hypothesised (but this is only a hypothesis) that a disciple very close to Paul's thinking addressed the Colossians under the authority of the apostle's name because the moment was serious. If this hypothesis is correct, it is not surprising to find in this writing phrases taken literally from Paul and others that show how theological reflection continued to develop in Christian communities. Jesus had said, 'The Spirit will guide you to the whole truth.' And in previous Sundays, we have already seen theological developments that are not yet found in Paul's own writings.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (12:13-21)

Jesus' response seems abrupt: "Who made me your judge or mediator?" However, as a good teacher, Jesus takes the opportunity to draw a lesson that he explains well with this parable. A man who has become rich through business is thinking about how best to enjoy his wealth; he thinks about demolishing his warehouses and building bigger ones to store all his grain and goods, and then he says to himself: 'My soul, you have many goods stored up for many years; rest, eat, drink and be merry' (v. 19). Unfortunately, he has forgotten that his life does not depend on him, and in fact he dies that very night. He thinks he is rich, but true wealth is not what he imagines. To better understand Jesus' teaching, we need to remember what he said earlier: "Be careful and keep away from all greed, because even if someone has an abundance, his life does not depend on what he has" (v. 13) and, even though it is not in this Sunday's liturgical reading, he concludes: "Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food and the body more than clothing' (Lk 12:22-23). Jesus' teaching is not new; it takes up themes already familiar in the Old Testament. Ben Sira said that those who become rich do not know how long they have to live, then they will leave their possessions to others and die (cf. Sir 11:18-19); and in this Sunday's first reading, Qohelet offered similar reflections: "What profit does a man gain from all his toil and from the cares of his heart, with which he toils under the sun?" (Qo 2:22), returning several times to the same theme (cf. Qo 5:9...15). The prophet Isaiah is very incisive in accusing the people of Jerusalem of being dazed by pleasures instead of listening to God's call to conversion (cf. Is 22:13), and the book of Job repeats: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there" (Job 1:21), a phrase still recited today in Israel at every funeral. All these phrases sound like reminders of the reality of life. Jesus denounces senseless behaviour: "Fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?" (v. 20) and the parable ends: "So is the one who stores up treasure for himself and is not rich in God." This implies two things: Never forget that riches come from God and belong to him because he entrusts them to us to put them at the service of the Kingdom of God. Life is short, but precisely for this reason, let us hurry to put it to good use! Jesus responds sharply to the man asking for his inheritance: that man has his priorities wrong because the most precious inheritance is the faith we have received from our fathers. And every time Jesus responds sharply (to his mother at Cana (Jn 2:4) and to Peter in Caesarea (Mt 16:23), it is because his mission is at stake.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [27 July 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This time I have taken a little longer to present some important details of the readings in the NOTES, which are useful for personal meditation and for lectio divina during this holiday period.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (18:20-32)

This text marks a step forward in the idea that men have of their relationship with God: it is the first time that one dares to imagine that a man can intervene in God's plans. Unfortunately, the liturgical reading does not allow us to hear the previous verses in which we read that immediately after the encounter at the Oaks of Mamre, Abraham takes his leave, accompanying the three mysterious men to contemplate Sodom from above. The Lord, speaking to himself, says: 'Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, when Abraham is to become a great and powerful nation, and all the nations of the earth will be blessed in him?' (vv. 17-19). God takes the covenant he has just made very seriously, and it is here that what we might call 'the most beautiful negotiation in history' begins: Abraham, armed with all his courage, intercedes to try to save Sodom and Gomorrah from a punishment they certainly deserve. In essence, he asks if God really wants to destroy these cities even if he finds at least fifty righteous people, or only forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, ten. What audacity! Yet, apparently, God accepts that man should act as his interlocutor: at no point does the Lord seem impatient and, indeed, he responds each time exactly as Abraham hoped. Perhaps God appreciates that Abraham has such a high opinion of his justice. In this regard, it can be noted that this text was written at a time when people were beginning to become aware of individual responsibility: in fact, Abraham would be scandalised by the idea that the righteous could be punished together with sinners and for their sins. We are far from the time when an entire family was eliminated for the sins of one. The great discovery of individual responsibility dates back to the prophet Ezekiel and the period of the Babylonian exile, i.e. the 6th century BC. We can therefore formulate a hypothesis about the composition of the chapter read today and last Sunday: it is a text written at a rather late date, although it derives from perhaps much older stories, whose oral or written form was not yet definitive. God loves it when people intercede for their brothers and sisters, as we can see with Moses: when the people made a 'golden calf' to worship immediately after swearing never to follow idols again. Moses intervened to beg God to forgive them, and God, who was waiting for nothing else, hastened to forgive them (Ex 32). Moses interceded for the people for whom he was responsible; Abraham, on the other hand, intercedes for pagans, and this is logical, after all, since he is the bearer of a blessing for all the families of the earth. This text is a great step forward in discovering the face of God, but it is only a stage, still within a logic of accounting: how many righteous people will it take to obtain forgiveness for sinners? The final theological step will be to discover that with God it is never a matter of payment. His justice has nothing to do with a scale, whose two pans must be perfectly balanced, and this is what St. Paul will try to make us understand in this Sunday's passage from the Letter to the Colossians. This text from Genesis is also a beautiful lesson on prayer, which is offered to us on the day when Luke's Gospel recounts Jesus' teaching on prayer, beginning with the Our Father, the plural prayer par excellence, which invites us to open our hearts to the whole of humanity. 

NOTE: Development of the notion of God's justice in the Bible: In the beginning, it was considered normal for the whole group to pay for the fault of one: see the case of Achan in the time of Joshua (Joshua 7:16-25). In a second phase, it is imagined that each person pays for himself. Here, there is a new step forward: if ten righteous people are found, they can save an entire city. Jeremiah dares to go further: a single righteous person can obtain forgiveness for all: 'Go through the streets of Jerusalem, search for one man who acts justly... I will forgive the city' (Jer 5:1). Ezekiel also reasons in these terms: 'I sought for a man among them who would stand in the breach before me... but I found none' (Ezek 22:30). It is with the book of Job, among others, that the final step is taken: when it is finally understood that God's justice is synonymous with salvation, not punishment. Jeremiah even goes so far as to invoke unconditional forgiveness, based solely on God's greatness: "If our sins testify against us, act, Lord, for the honour of your name!" (Jer 14:7-9). Before God, just like Jeremiah, Abraham understood that sinners have no other argument than God himself! Finally, note Abraham's optimism, which fully earns him the title of "father of faith": he continues to believe that all is not lost, that not all are lost. Even in a city as horrible as Sodom, he is convinced that there are at least ten good men!

Responsorial Psalm (137/138), 1-2a, 2bc-3, 6-7ab, 7c-8)

This psalm is a song of thanksgiving for the Covenant that God offers to humanity: the Covenant made first with Israel, but also the Covenant open to all nations, and Israel's vocation is precisely to bring other nations into it. Three times 

: 'I give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart', 'I give thanks to your name for your love and your faithfulness', and – in verse 4, which we do not hear this Sunday – 'May all the kings of the earth give thanks to you'. Here we see a progression: first, it is Israel speaking on its own behalf: "I give you thanks, Lord, with all my heart"; then the reason is specified: "I give thanks to your name for your love and your faithfulness"; finally, it is the whole of humanity that enters into the Covenant and gives thanks: "May all the kings of the earth give thanks to you". 

Since we are talking about the Covenant, it is normal that there are allusions to the experience of Sinai and echoes of the great discovery of the burning bush when God told Moses that he had seen the misery of his people and had come down to free them (Ex 2:23-24). Echoing this, the psalm sings: "On the day I called, you answered me" (v. 3). Another reference to God's revelation at Sinai is the expression "your love and faithfulness" (v. 2): these are the same words with which God defined himself before Moses (Ex 34:6). The phrase "Your right hand saves me" (v. 7) is, for Jews, an allusion to the exodus from Egypt. The "right hand" is, of course, the right hand, and since Moses' song after the miraculous crossing of the Red Sea (Ex 15), it has become customary to speak of the victory that God obtained with a strong hand and a powerful arm (Ex 15:6, 12). The expression "Lord, your love is forever" (v. 8) also evokes all of God's work, particularly the Exodus, as in Psalm 135/136, whose refrain is: "For his love is forever." Another link between this psalm and Moses' song is the connection between the entire epic of the Exodus, the Covenant at Sinai, and the Temple in Jerusalem. Moses sang:

"The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. This is my God, and I will praise him, my father's God, and I will exalt him" (Ex 15:1-2, 13), and the psalm echoes:

"Not to the gods, but to you I will sing, I bow down toward your holy temple" (vv. 1-2) because the

Temple is the place where all God's work on behalf of his people is remembered. However, God's presence is not limited to a stone temple, but that temple, or what remains of it, is a permanent sign of that presence. And even today, wherever they are in the world, every Jew prays facing Jerusalem, towards the holy temple mountain, because it is the place chosen by God, in the time of King David, to offer his people a sign of his presence. Finally, God's greatness does not crush man, at least not those who recognise their own smallness: "The Lord is exalted, but he looks upon the humble; he recognises the proud from afar" (v. 6). This too is a great biblical theme: his greatness is manifested precisely in his goodness towards the smallness of man (cf. Wis 12:18) and Psalm 113/112: "He raises the weak from the dust, lifts the poor from the ash heap" and in the Magnificat: "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the humble". The believer knows this and is amazed: God is great, he does not crush us, but on the contrary, he makes us grow.

These parallels, that is, the influence of Moses' song, the experience of Sinai from the burning bush to the exodus from Egypt and the Covenant, are found in many other psalms and biblical texts.

This shows how much this experience was – and remains – the foundation of Israel's faith.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Colossians (2:12-14)

God has cancelled the document written against us (Col 2:14). Paul here refers to a widespread practice when money was borrowed: it was customary for the debtor to give the creditor a 'debt acknowledgement document'. Jesus also used this image in the parable of the dishonest steward. On the day his master threatens to fire him, he thinks of making friends for himself; to this end, he summons his master's debtors and says to each one, 'Here is your debt document; change the amount. Did you owe a hundred sacks of wheat? Write eighty' (Lk 16:7). As he often does, Paul uses the language of everyday life to express a theological thought. His reasoning is this: because of the seriousness of our sins, we can consider ourselves debtors to God. Moreover, in Judaism, sins were often called "debts"; and a Jewish prayer from the time of Jesus said: "In your great mercy, cancel all the documents that accuse us." Well, anyone who looks up at the cross of Christ discovers the extent of God's mercy for his children: with Him, it is not a matter of keeping accounts: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do' is the prayer of the Son; but it is He himself who said, 'Whoever has seen me has seen the Father'. The body of Christ nailed to the cross shows that God is like this: He forgets all our wrongs, all our faults towards Him. His forgiveness is displayed before our eyes: "They will look on him whom they have pierced," said the prophet Zechariah (Zech 12:10; Jn 19:37). It is as if the document of our debt had been nailed to the cross of Christ. However, we are still surprised because this whole passage is written in the past tense: "buried with Christ in baptism, you have also been raised with him... with him God has given you life... forgiving us all our sins and cancelling the document written against us... he took it away by nailing it to the cross". 

NOTE Paul wants to affirm that the salvation of the world is already accomplished: this 'already-realised' salvation is one of the great themes of the Letter to the Colossians. The Christian community is already saved through baptism; it already participates in the heavenly reality. Here too we see an evolution with respect to some of Paul's earlier letters, such as 'We have been saved, but in hope' (Rom 8:24); "If we have been united with him in death, we will also be united with him in resurrection" (Rom 6:5). While the Letter to the Romans places the resurrection in the future, the Letters to the Colossians and Ephesians speak in the past tense, both of burial with Christ and of resurrection as an already present reality. “When we were dead in our sins, he made us alive with Christ – by grace you are saved –; with him he raised us up and seated us in the heavens in Christ Jesus” (Eph 2:5-6). “You were buried with Christ, with him you were also raised... You were dead... but God gave you life with Christ.” For Paul, baptism is like a second birth, and his insistence that salvation has already taken place through birth into a totally new life is probably also linked to the historical context: behind many expressions in the Letter, we can glimpse a climate of tension and conflict. The community in Colossae seems to be under dangerous influences, against which Paul wants to warn them: "Let no one deceive you with seductive words" (Col 2:4)... "Let no one trap you with empty and deceptive philosophy" (Col 2:8)... "Let no one judge you in matters of food and drink, or in regard to festivals or sabbaths" (Col 2:16). Thus, a recurring problem reappears in the background: how does one enter into salvation? Must one continue to strictly observe all Jewish law? Paul answers: through faith. This theme is present in many letters, and we find it clearly here as well (v. 12): buried in baptism with Christ... raised... through faith in the power of God who raised him from the dead. The Letter to the Ephesians repeats it even more clearly: 'It is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. It is not the result of works, so that no one can boast.' (Eph 2:8-9) Life with Christ in the glory of the Father is not only a future hope, but a present experience of believers: an experience of new life, of divine life. From now on, if we want, Christ lives in us; and we are enabled to live the divine life of the risen Christ in our daily lives! This means that none of our old ways of acting is any longer an inevitable condemnation. Love, peace, justice, and sharing are possible. And if we do not believe this is possible, then we are saying that Christ has not saved us! Be careful! Until now, we have always spoken of the Letter to the Colossians as if Paul were the author; in reality, many exegetes believe that it was written by a disciple very close to Paul, inspired by his thought, but from a later generation. 

From the Gospel according to Luke (11:1-13)

It may come as a surprise, but Jesus did not invent the words of the Lord's Prayer: they come directly from Jewish liturgy and, more profoundly, from the Scriptures. Starting with the vocabulary, which is very biblical: Father, name, holy, kingdom, bread, sins, temptations... Let us begin with the first two questions: with great pedagogical skill, they are addressed first of all to God and teach us to say 'your name', 'your kingdom'. They educate our desire and commit us to collaborate in the growth of his kingdom. The Our Father, probably taught by Jesus in Aramaic, 'Abun d'bashmaya... nethqadash shimukin', which recalls liturgical Hebrew, is a school of prayer, or if you prefer, a method for learning to pray: let us not forget the disciple's request that immediately precedes it: 'Lord, teach us to pray' (v. 1). Well, if we follow Jesus' method, thanks to the Lord's Prayer, we will end up knowing how to speak the language of God, whose first word is Father. The invocation 'Our Father' immediately places us in a filial relationship with God and was already present in the Old Testament: 'You, Lord, are our Father, our Redeemer from everlasting'. (Is 63:16). The first two questions concern the name and the kingdom. "Hallowed be thy name": in the Bible, the name represents the person himself; to say that God is holy (kadosh / shmokh in Aramaic - separate) is to affirm that He is "beyond everything, and this request means: "Make yourself known as God". "Thy kingdom come": repeated every day, this question will transform us into workers in the Kingdom. God's will, as we know, is that humanity, gathered in his love, should become queen of creation: 'Fill the earth and subdue it' (Gen 1:27), and believers await the day when God will be recognised as king over all the earth, as the prophet Zechariah announced: 'The Lord will be king over all the earth' (Zech 14:9). Our prayer, our method of learning the language of God, will make us people who desire above all else that God be recognised, adored and loved, that everyone recognise him as Father, passionate about evangelisation and the Kingdom of God. The next three questions concern daily life: "Give us", "Forgive us", "Do not abandon us to temptation". God never ceases to do all this, and we place ourselves in an attitude of acceptance of his gifts. "Give us this day our daily bread" (τὸν ἐπιούσιον): the manna that fell every morning in the desert taught the people to trust day by day, and this request invites us not to worry about tomorrow and to receive food each day as a gift from God: here bread has various meanings, including the Eucharistic bread, as I will explain in the Note, and the plural "our bread" invites us to share the Father's concern to feed all his children. "Forgive us our sins, for we too forgive everyone who is indebted to us": God's forgiveness is not conditioned by our behaviour, and fraternal forgiveness does not buy God's forgiveness, but is the only way to enter into the divine forgiveness that is already given: those who have a closed heart cannot receive God's gifts. "Do not abandon us to temptation." Here there is a translation problem, because – once again – Hebrew grammar is different from ours: the verb used in the Hebrew prayer means "do not let us enter into temptation." This refers to every temptation, of course, but above all to the most serious one, the temptation to doubt God's love. The whole of life is involved in the Lord's Prayer: speaking the language of God means knowing how to ask, and asking is not only permitted but recommended because it is an exercise in humility and trust. Nor are these just any requests: bread, forgiveness, strength against temptation. All the requests are in the plural, and each of us makes them on behalf of the whole of humanity. Ultimately, there is a close connection between the first petitions of the Lord's Prayer and the subsequent ones: we ask God for what we need to fulfil our baptismal mission: Give us all we need – bread and love – and protect us, so that we may have the strength to proclaim your Kingdom. The Gospel immediately follows with the parable of the importunate friend who invites us never to stop praying, certain that the heavenly Father always gives the Holy Spirit to those who ask him (v. 13), so that even if our problems are not solved with a wave of a magic wand, we will no longer experience them alone but together with Him.

NOTE 

1 – Regarding 'bread' in verse 3: the same adjective is found in a prayer in the Book of Proverbs: 'Give me neither poverty nor riches; give me only my daily bread' (Pr 30:8).  

2 The term bread τὸν ἐπιούσιον, a very rare adjective, is a hapax legomenon, i.e. it appears only here (and in Mt 6:11), and is not found elsewhere in classical Greek literature or in the LXX (Septuagint). There are many interpretations, but ἐπιούσιος remains enigmatic and carries with it a wealth of meanings: the material bread necessary for daily life; spiritual bread, that is, the Word of God and the Eucharist, the sign of daily trust in the Providence of the Father. Some exegetes read it as 'bread for the day that is coming', thus a confident invocation for the immediate future. 

3. Jesus takes the Our Father directly from the Jewish liturgy, and here are some Jewish prayers that are at its origin: 'Our Father who art in heaven' (Mishnah Yoma, common invocation); 'May your name be sanctified in the world you have created according to your will' (Qaddish, Qedushah and Shemoné Esré); May your kingdom come quickly and be recognised throughout the world... May your will be done in heaven and on earth... Give us our daily bread...

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us... Lead us not into temptation... Yours is the greatness, the power, the glory... (1 Chr 29:11)

4. The final doxology of the Lord's Prayer: Many Christian groups, well before the Second Vatican Council, recited at the end of the Lord's Prayer: Yours is the kingdom, yours is the power and glory forever. This "doxology" (word of praise) is found in some manuscripts of Matthew, and is probably derived from a very ancient liturgical use, already in the first century, but dating back even further, to David's prayer (cf. Chronicles 29:11).

5. On the importance of prayers of petition, I echo an interesting image proposed by Duns Scotus: imagine a boat on the sea; on the shore there is a rock, on which there is a ring, and another ring on the boat, tied together with a rope The man who prays is like someone in the boat pulling on the rope: he does not pull the rock towards himself, but brings himself – and the boat – closer to the rock.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

16th Sunday in O.T. (year C) [20 July 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! For those who can, summer is a time when we can devote more time to listening to the Word and praying for those who are so immersed in their worries that they believe they have no time to pray.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (18:1-10)

Mambré is an inhabitant of the land of Canaan who, on several occasions, offered hospitality to Abraham in his oak grove (near the present-day city of Hebron). We know that oak trees were sacred to the Canaanites. This story recounts an apparition of God in the grove belonging to Mambré. But, in reality, this is not the first time that God has spoken to Abraham. Since chapter 12, the book of Genesis has told us about God's repeated appearances and promises to Abraham. But, for the moment, nothing has happened yet, and Abraham and Sarah are about to die without children. It is often said that God chose a people, but in reality, God first chose a man—and, moreover, a man without children. And it was to this man without a future (at least according to human criteria) that God made an unprecedented promise: "I will make you a great nation... All the families of the earth will be blessed in you" (Gen 12:2-3). To this old, sterile man, he said: "Count the stars, if you can... So shall your descendants be." Based solely on this seemingly impossible promise, Abraham decided to stake his entire life. Abraham did not doubt that God would keep his word, but he was well aware of the obvious obstacle: he and Sarah were sterile, or at least they believed themselves to be, since at the ages of seventy-five and sixty-five they were still childless. Abraham had imagined solutions: God promised me descendants, but, after all, my servant is like a son to me. "Lord God, what will you give me? I am going away childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus" (Gen 15:2). But God refused: 'This man shall not be your heir, but one born to you shall be your heir' (Gen 15:4). A few years later, when God spoke again of that birth, Abraham could not help but laugh (Gen 17:17); then he thought of another solution: it could be my real son, Ishmael, the one I had from my union (authorised by Sarah) with Hagar. "Can a man of a hundred years old have a son? And can Sarah, who is ninety years old, still give birth? ... May Ishmael live before you!" But once again God refused: "No! Your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you shall call him Isaac" (Gen 17:19). A promise is a promise. The passage we read this Sunday presupposes this long history of a twenty-five-year covenant, according to the Bible. The event takes place near the oak of Mamre. Three men appeared to Abraham and accepted his hospitality. Let us stop here. Contrary to what one might think, the central point of the text is not the generous hospitality offered by Abraham! At that time, in that civilisation, it was nothing extraordinary, however exemplary it might have been. The author's message, what arouses his admiration and prompts him to write in order to pass it on to future generations, is much greater! The unthinkable has happened: for the first time in human history, God himself has become a guest of a man! No one doubts that the three distinguished visitors represent God. Reading the text is a little difficult for us, because it is not clear whether there is only one visitor or more than one: Abraham looked up and saw three men... he said: My Lord, if I have found favour in your eyes... go and fetch some water, wash your feet... I will fetch a morsel of bread and you can refresh yourselves... Where is Sarah, your wife? I will return to you in a year's time... your wife will have a son. In reality, the author wrote this much later, based on different accounts. He combined all these sources into one, harmonising everything as much as possible. And because he wanted to avoid any appearance of polytheism, he took care to reiterate several times that there is only one God. At the time, the author could not have imagined that this was the Trinity, but Abraham certainly recognised the divine presence in those three visitors without hesitation. God, therefore – for it is undoubtedly Him – made Himself a guest in Abraham's house. And to tell him what? To confirm the unheard-of plan He had for him: next year, at this same time, old Sarah will have a son. And from this son would be born a people who would be the instrument of divine blessing. Sarah, who was eavesdropping behind the curtain, could not help but laugh: they were both so old, and the traveller replied with a phrase that we should never forget: 'Is anything too hard for the Lord?' (Gen 18:14). And the impossible happened: Isaac was born, the first link in the promised lineage, as numerous as the stars in the sky.

*Responsorial Psalm (14/15, 1a. 2-3a, 3bc-4ab, 4d-5)

The psalms were all composed to accompany a liturgical action during pilgrimages and feasts at the Temple in Jerusalem, and the Psalter could be compared to the hymnals we find in our churches. Here, the pilgrim arrives at the gates of the Temple and asks the question: am I worthy to enter? The answer is found in the Book of Leviticus: 'Be holy, because I am holy' (19:2), and this psalm draws the consequences: those who wish to enter the Temple (the 'house' of God) must behave in a manner worthy of the holy God. 'Who shall dwell on your holy mountain? (v. 1) The answer is simple: "He who walks blamelessly, practises justice and speaks the truth that is in his heart" (v. 2), and the following verses clarify this: be righteous, be true, do no wrong to anyone. Ultimately, all this recalls the Decalogue (Ex 20) and the identikit of the righteous man drawn up by Ezekiel (Ez 18:5-9). Micah takes up the question of our psalm exactly and develops it (Mic 6:6-8), as does his contemporary Isaiah (Is 33:15-16). A little later, Zechariah also feels the need to repeat it (Zech 8:16-17). Reading these texts, which I am only mentioning but which are worth meditating on, we understand how essential it is to wait for the intervention of the One who can transform our hearts of stone into hearts of flesh, as Ezekiel says. Everything helps us to reread this psalm by applying it to Jesus, whom the Gospels describe as 'meek and humble of heart' (Mt 11:29), attentive to the excluded: lepers (Mk 1), the adulterous woman (Jn 8), the sick and demon-possessed, Jews and pagans. Jesus is completely foreign to the logic of profit and does not even have a place to lay his head. Jesus helps us to re-read verse 3: "He does not slander with his tongue, he does not harm his neighbour, he does not cast insults at his neighbour," giving it a new dimension and teaching us in the parable of the Good Samaritan that the circle of our "neighbours" can be expanded to infinity. Verse 4: "The wicked are despicable in his eyes" may seem out of place amid all these beautiful sentiments: but it probably indicates a commitment to fidelity because the "wicked" are the unfaithful, the idolaters, and the pilgrim must reject all forms of idolatry, for which reason fidelity to the one God has been a constant struggle in Israel. Finally, the reference to the demands of the Covenant is a catechesis addressed to pilgrims, not a condition for entering the Temple, because otherwise no one could ever have entered except Jesus of Nazareth, the only Holy One.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Colossians (1:24-28)

"I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church." How are we to understand the first sentence of this text? Is there something lacking in Christ's sufferings? Or are there other sufferings that we must endure in order to "compensate" in some way? In truth, there are still sufferings to endure, as Paul affirms, but it is not a matter of completing a measure. It is not the result of a divine demand, but rather a necessity due to the hardness of the human heart. What remains to be suffered are the difficulties, opposition, and even persecution that every work of evangelisation encounters. Jesus said this clearly, both before and after his Passion and Resurrection. If the Son of Man had to suffer greatly, rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, put to death and rise again on the third day (cf. Lk 9:22), a similar fate would befall his disciples: They will deliver you to courts and synagogues, you will be beaten, you will appear before governors and kings because of me, and this will be an opportunity for you to bear witness, but first, the Gospel must be proclaimed to all nations (cf. Mk 13:9-10). The warning is that until the mission is accomplished, the disciple must continue to labour, face difficulties, even persecution, certainly not by divine decree, as if God desired the suffering of his children and counted their tears, because such an assumption would distort the image of the God of tenderness and compassion that Moses himself had already discovered. For Paul, there are two characteristics that qualify the disciple of Christ: imitation of the suffering divine Master and proclamation of the 'mystery' (v. 26). The first characteristic is described in this difficult opening verse, and St Augustine applies this participation in the sufferings of Christ to all Christians who suffer so that the whole community may be purified from evil. The second characteristic is proclamation, the missionary commitment whose content is 'the mystery', that is, the plan of salvation revealed in Christ. For the work of evangelisation, God calls collaborators because he does not want to act without us. However, the world refuses to listen to the Word and resists with all its might the spread of the Gospel, an opposition that goes as far as persecuting and suppressing the martyrs, who are inconvenient witnesses. This is exactly what Paul is experiencing, imprisoned for speaking too much about Jesus of Nazareth. In his letters to the young Christian communities, he often encourages his readers to accept, in turn, the inevitable persecution (cf. 1 Thess 3:3). Peter also says the same thing: "Resist, standing firm in the faith, knowing that the same sufferings are being experienced by your brothers and sisters throughout the world" (1 Pet 5:9-10).  Therefore, we must not give up and we must proclaim Christ, despite everything, "admonishing everyone and teaching them with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone perfect in Christ" (v. 28). Christ began the work of proclamation, and it is our task to bring it to completion. In this way, the Church grows little by little as the Body of Christ. In the First Letter to the Corinthians (1 Cor 12), the image of the body was used to speak of the harmony among the members within each local Church. Here, however, Paul's vision broadens and contemplates the universal Church, the great body of which Christ is the head. This mystery, God's plan, has been revealed to Christians and becomes for them an inexhaustible source of joy and hope: "Christ in you, him, the hope of glory!" (v. 27) and it is the amazement at the presence of Christ in their midst that transforms believers into witnesses. Then we understand better the opening sentence of today's text: I find joy in the sufferings I endure for you, for what is lacking in Christ's sufferings, I complete in my flesh, for the sake of his body, which is the Church.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (10:38-42)

"Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (Mt 6:33): this is perhaps the best commentary on Jesus' lesson in the house of Martha and Mary, a story exclusive to the evangelist Luke that immediately follows the parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem with his disciples, an opportunity for him to give them many instructions, offering points of reference to help them remain faithful to their vocation to follow him. He first recommended to his disciples on mission that they accept hospitality (cf. Lk 9:4; 10:5-9) and now he willingly enters this house in Bethany, which he knew well. We should avoid contrasting Martha, the active one, with Mary, the contemplative one, because the evangelist seems rather to focus on the disciples' relationship with the Lord, as can be seen from the context and the repetition of the term 'Lord', which appears three times: Mary sat at the Lord's feet... Martha said, 'Lord, don't you care? The Lord answered her... The insistent use of this term indicates that the relationship described by Luke between Jesus and the two sisters, Martha and Mary, should not be judged according to human criteria of 'good behaviour', but according to what the Master wishes to teach his disciples. Here he invites us to discern what is the 'better part', that is, the essential and indispensable attitude in the life and mission of Christians. The two women welcome the Lord with all their attention: Martha is absorbed in many tasks related to serving, Mary entertains the guest by listening to him and does not miss a word. It cannot be said that one is active and the other contemplative: both, in their own way, are totally focused on him. The evangelist focuses on Jesus who is speaking, even though we are not told what he is saying, while Mary, 'sitting at the Lord's feet', listens with the attitude of a disciple, allowing herself to be taught (cf. Is 50). Martha protests: 'Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to serve you alone? Tell her to help me'. And here Jesus utters a phrase that has caused much ink to flow: "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things." Jesus does not reproach Martha for her desire to welcome him well because, in the culture of hospitality (especially in the East), hospitality meant preparing a good meal: "kill the fatted calf." Martha's agitation and restlessness inspire Jesus to give a lesson that is useful for all his disciples because it goes to the heart of the matter: "Only one thing is needed," that is, everything is useful if we do not forget "the better part," that is, the essential. In life, we must all be both Martha and Mary, but we must be careful not to confuse our priorities. Jesus will take up this lesson again later, in a more extensive way (Lk 12:22-32), which, however, the liturgy does not always propose. I would therefore like to recall it here: "Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. Life is worth more than food, and the body more than clothing... Now, if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, people of little faith! Therefore, do not seek what you will eat or drink, and do not be anxious. It is the pagans of the world who seek all these things, but your Father knows that you need them. Seek rather his Kingdom, and all the rest will be given to you in addition." Jesus warns us against the risk that our daily concerns will prevent us from listening to his word, which is "the better part". In dedicating ourselves to service like Martha, we must avoid forgetting that it is always God who takes care of us and not the other way around. We can paraphrase Jesus' words as follows: Martha, you are busy and agitated in welcoming me, doing many useful things, but the best way is to know that it is I who want to do things for you, so listen to me.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole