29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [19 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. Once again, a strong reminder of how to live our faith in every situation in life.

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:8-13)

 The test of faith. On Israel's journey through the desert, the encounter with the Amalekites marks a decisive stage: it is the first battle of the people freed from Egypt, but also the first great test of their faith. The Amalekites, descendants of Esau, represent in biblical tradition the hereditary enemy, a figure of evil who tries to prevent God's people from reaching the promised land. Their sudden attack on the rear of the caravan — the weakest and most tired — reveals the logic of evil: to strike where faith falters, where fatigue and fear open the door to doubt. This episode takes place at Rephidim, the same place as Massah and Meribah, where Israel had already murmured against God because of the lack of water. There the people had experienced the trial of thirst, now they experience the trial of combat: in both cases, the temptation is the same — to think that God is no longer with them. But once again God intervenes, showing that faith is purified through struggle and that trust must remain firm even in danger. While Joshua fights in the plain, Moses climbs the mountain with God's staff in his hand — a sign of his presence and power. The story does not focus on the movements of the troops, but on Moses' gesture: his hands raised towards the sky. It is not a magical gesture: it is prayer that sustains the battle, faith that becomes strength for the whole people. When Moses' arms fall, Israel loses; when they remain raised, Israel wins. Victory therefore depends not only on the strength of weapons, but on communion with God and persevering prayer. Moses grows tired, Aaron and Hur support his hands: this is the image of spiritual brotherhood, of the community that bears the weight of faith together. Thus, prayer is not isolation, but solidarity: those who pray support others, and those who fight draw strength from the prayers of their brothers and sisters. This episode thus becomes a paradigm of spiritual life: Israel, fragile and still on its journey, learns that victory does not come from human strength, but from trust in God. Prayer, represented by Moses' raised hands, does not replace action but accompanies and transfigures it. The person who prays and the person who fights are two faces of the same believer: one fights in the world, the other intercedes before God, and both participate in the one work of salvation. Finally, the praying community becomes the living sign of God's presence at work in his people, and when a believer no longer has the strength to pray, the faith of his brothers and sisters sustains him. The story of Amalek at Rephidim is not just a page in history, but an icon of Christian life: we all live our battles knowing that victory belongs to God and that prayer is the source of all strength and the guarantee of God's presence.

Responsorial Psalm (120/121) 

Psalm 120/121 belongs to the group of 'Psalms of Ascents' (Ps 120-134), composed to accompany the pilgrimages of the people of Israel to Jerusalem, the holy city situated on high, symbol of the place where God dwells among his people. The verb 'to ascend' indicates not only geographical ascent but also and above all a spiritual movement, a conversion of the heart that brings the believer closer to God. Each pilgrimage was a sign of the Covenant and an act of faith for Israel: the people, travelling from all parts of the country, renewed their trust in the Lord. When the psalm speaks in the first person — "I lift up my eyes to the mountains" — it actually gives voice to the collective "we" of all Israel, the people marching towards God. This journey is an image of the entire history of Israel, a long march in which fatigue, waiting, danger and trust are intertwined. The roads that lead to Jerusalem, in addition to being stone roads, are spiritual paths marked by trials and risks. Fatigue, loneliness, external threats — robbers, animals, scorching sun, cold nights — become symbols of the difficulties of faith. In this situation, the words of the psalm are a profession of absolute trust: "My help comes from the Lord: he   made heaven and earth." These words affirm that true help comes not from human powers or mute idols, but from the living God, Creator of the universe, who never sleeps and never abandons his people. He is called "the Guardian of Israel": the one who watches over us constantly, who accompanies us, who is close to us like a shadow that protects us from the sun and the moon. The Hebrew expression "at your right hand" indicates an intimate and faithful presence, like that of an inseparable companion. The people who pray this psalm thus remember the pillar of cloud and fire that guided Israel in the desert, a sign of God who protects day and night, accompanying them on their journey and guarding their lives. Therefore, the psalmist can say: 'The Lord will guard you from all evil; he will guard your life. The Lord will guard you when you go out and when you come in, from now on and forever." The pilgrim who "goes up" to Jerusalem becomes the image of the believer who entrusts himself to God alone, renouncing idols and false securities. This movement is conversion: turning away from what is vain to turn towards the God who saves. In the New Testament, Jesus himself was able to pray this psalm as he "went up to Jerusalem" (Lk 9:51). He walks the path of Israel and of every human being, entrusting his life to the Father. The words "The Lord will guard your life" find their full fulfilment at Easter, when the pilgrim's return becomes resurrection because it is a return to new and definitive life. Thus, Psalm 121 is much more than a prayer for travel: it is the confession of faith of a people on a journey, the proclamation that God is faithful and that his presence accompanies every step of existence. In it, historical memory, theological trust and eschatological hope come together. Israel, the believer and Christ himself share the same certainty: God guards life and every ascent, even the most difficult, leads to communion with Him.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (3:14-4:2)

In this passage from the second letter to Timothy (3:14-4:2), Paul entrusts his disciple with the most precious legacy: fidelity to the Word of God. It is a text written at a difficult time, marked by doctrinal confusion and tensions in the community of Ephesus. Timothy is called to be a 'guardian of the Word' in the midst of a world that risks losing the truth it has received. The first words, 'Remain faithful to what you have learned', make it clear that others have abandoned the apostolic teaching: fidelity then becomes an act of spiritual resistance, a remaining anchored to the source. Paul speaks of 'dwelling' in the Word: faith is not an object to be possessed, but an environment in which to live. Timothy entered into it as a child thanks to his mother Eunice and his grandmother Lois, women of faith who passed on to him a love for the Scriptures. Here we have a reference to the communal and traditional character of faith: no one discovers the Word on their own, but always in the Church. Access to Scripture takes place within the living Tradition, that 'chain' that starts with Christ, passes through the apostles and continues in believers. 'Tradere' in Latin means 'to transmit': what is received is given. In this fidelity, Scripture is a source of living water that regenerates the believer and roots him in the truth. Paul affirms that the Holy Scriptures can instruct for the salvation that is obtained through faith in Christ Jesus (v. 15). The Old Testament is the path that leads to Christ: the entire history of Israel prepares for the fulfilment of the Paschal mystery. 'All Scripture is inspired by God': even before it became dogma, it was the deep conviction of the people of Israel, from which arose respect for the holy books kept in the synagogues. Divine inspiration does not cancel out the human word, but transfigures it, making it an instrument of the Spirit. Scripture, therefore, is not just another book, but a living presence of God that forms, educates, corrects and sanctifies: thanks to it, the man of God will be perfect, equipped for every good work (vv. 16-17). From this source springs the mission, and Paul entrusts Timothy with the decisive command: "Proclaim the Word, insist on it at the opportune and inopportune moment" (v. 4:2) because the proclamation of the Gospel is a necessity, not an optional task. The solemn reference to Christ's judgement of the living and the dead shows the gravity of apostolic responsibility. Proclaiming the Word means making present the Logos, that is, Christ himself, the living Word of the Father. It is He who communicates himself through the voice of the preacher and the life of the witness. But proclamation requires courage and patience: it is necessary to speak when it is convenient and when it is not, to admonish, correct, encourage, always with a spirit of charity and a desire to build up the community. Truth without love hurts; love without truth empties the Word. For Paul, Scripture is not only memory, but the dynamism of the Spirit. It shapes the mind and heart, forms judgement, inspires choices. Those who dwell in it become "men of God," that is, persons shaped by the Word and made capable of serving. Timothy is invited not only to guard the doctrine, but to make it a source of life for himself and for others. Thus, the Word, accepted and lived, becomes a place of encounter with Christ and a source of renewal for the Church. The apostle does not found anything of his own, but transmits what he has received; in the same way, every believer is called to become a link in this living chain, so that the Word may continue to flow in the world like water that quenches, purifies and fertilises. In summary: Scripture is the source of faith, Tradition is the river that transmits it, and proclamation is the fruit that nourishes the life of the Church. To remain in the Word means to remain in Christ; to proclaim it means to let Him act and speak through us. Only in this way does the man of God become fully formed and the community grow in truth and charity.

From the Gospel according to Luke (18:1-8)

The context of this parable is that of the 'end times': Jesus is walking towards Jerusalem, towards His Passion, death and Resurrection. The disciples perceive the tragic and mysterious epilogue, feel the need for greater faith ('Increase our faith') and are anxious to understand the coming of the Kingdom of God. The term 'Son of Man', already present in Daniel (7), indicates the one who comes on the clouds, receives universal and eternal kingship, and also represents, in the original sense, a collective being, the people of the Saints of the Most High. Jesus uses it to refer to himself, reassuring his disciples about God's ultimate victory, even in a context of imminent difficulties. The reference to judgement and the Kingdom emphasises the eschatological perspective: God will do justice to his chosen ones, the Kingdom has already begun, but it will be fully realised at the end. The parable of the persistent widow is at the heart of the message: before an unjust judge, the widow is not discouraged because her cause is just. This example combines two virtues essential to Christians: humility, recognising one's poverty (first beatitude: 'Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God'), and perseverance, confident insistence in prayer and justice. The widow's persistence becomes a paradigm for faith in waiting for the Kingdom: our cause, too, based on God's will, requires tenacity. The text also recalls the connection with the episode in the Old Testament: during the battle against the Amalekites, Moses prays persistently on the hill while Joshua fights on the plain. The victory of the people depends on the presence and intervention of God, supported by Moses' persevering prayer. The parable of the widow has the same function: to remind believers, of all times, that faith is a continuous struggle, a test of endurance in the face of difficulties, opposition and doubts. Jesus' concluding question, "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?", is a universal warning: faith should never be taken for granted; it must be guarded, nurtured and protected. From the early morning of the Resurrection until the final coming of the Son of Man, faith is a struggle of constancy and trust, even when the Kingdom seems far away. The widow teaches us how to face the wait: humble, stubborn, confident, aware of our weakness but certain of God's justice and saving will, which never disappoints those who trust in him totally. Luke seems to be writing to a community threatened by discouragement, as suggested by the final sentence: 'When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?'. This phrase, while appearing pessimistic, is actually a warning to be vigilant: faith must be guarded and nurtured, not taken for granted. The text forms an inclusion: the first sentence teaches what faith is — 'We must always pray without losing heart' — and the final sentence calls for perseverance. Between the two, the example of the stubborn widow, treated unjustly but who does not give up, shows concretely how to practise this faith. The overall teaching is clear: faith is a constant commitment, an active resistance, which requires stubbornness, humility and trust in God's justice, even in the face of difficulties and the apparent absence of a response.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

XXVIII Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [12 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! Reflecting on the gratitude that is easier to see in those who are far away is an invitation to review our personal relationship with God.

First Reading from the Second Book of Kings (5:14-17)

This Sunday's reading begins at the moment when General Naaman, apparently as docile as a lamb, immerses himself in the waters of the Jordan, on the orders of the prophet Elisha; but we are missing the beginning of the story: let me tell it to you. Naaman is a Syrian general highly esteemed by the king of Aram (present-day Damascus). Obviously, for the people of Israel, he is a foreigner and at times even an enemy, and above all, being a pagan, he does not belong to the chosen people. Even more serious: he is a leper, which means that soon everyone will avoid him, and for him it is a real curse. Fortunately for him, his wife has an Israelite slave girl who tells her mistress, 'There is a great prophet in Samaria who could surely heal Naaman'. The mistress tells her husband Naaman, who tells the king of Aram: the prophet of Samaria can heal me. And since Naaman is in great favour, the king writes a letter of introduction to the king of Samaria recommending Naaman, who is afflicted with leprosy, to go to the prophet Elisha. The king of Israel does not know that the prophet Elisha can heal him; on the contrary, he is in a panic because he thinks that the king of Syria is looking for a pretext to wage war on him. Elisha hears about this and asks Naaman to come. Naaman arrives with his entire entourage and luggage full of gifts for the healer. In reality, only a servant opens the door slightly and simply tells him that his master orders him to immerse himself seven times in the Jordan to be purified.  Naaman finds this offensive and wonders what is the point of immersing himself in the Jordan when there are rivers in Syria that are much more beautiful than the Jordan. Enraged, he sets off again for Damascus, but fortunately his servants say to him: 'Did you expect the prophet to ask you to do extraordinary things to heal you, and you would have done them? Now he is asking you to do something ordinary, so why can't you do it? Naaman allows himself to be persuaded, and this is where today's reading begins. Naaman obeys a simple order by immersing himself seven times in the Jordan and is healed. It seems simple to us, but for a great general of a foreign army, this obedience is not simple at all! The rest of the text demonstrates this. Naaman is healed and returns to Elisha to tell him two things. The first: 'Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel', and he adds that when he returns to his country, he will offer sacrifices to him. The author of this passage takes the opportunity to say to the Jews: you have had the protection of the one God for centuries, and now you see that God is also for foreigners, while you continue to be tempted by idolatry. This foreigner, on the other hand, quickly understood where his healing came from. Naaman also tells Elisha that he wants to give him a gift to thank him, but the prophet refuses emphatically: God's gifts cannot be bought. Finally, why does Naaman want to take some soil from Israel with him? He explains that he does not want to offer burnt offerings and sacrifices to other gods, but only to the God of Israel. This shows that, at the time of the prophet Elisha, all the peoples neighbouring Israel believed that the gods reigned over specific territories and, in order to offer sacrifices to the God of Israel, Naaman believed he had to take with him some soil from the land over which this God reigned.

Responsorial Psalm (97/98, 1-4)

In the first reading, Naaman, a Syrian general and therefore a pagan, is healed by the prophet Elisha and, thanks to this, discovers the God of Israel. Naaman is therefore perfectly suited to sing this psalm, which speaks of God's love both for the pagans, whom the Bible calls the nations (or peoples), and for Israel. 'The Lord has made known his salvation, he has revealed his justice in the sight of the nations' (v. 2) and immediately afterwards (v. 3): 'He has remembered his love, his faithfulness to the house of Israel', which is the consecrated expression to remember the election of Israel, the completely privileged relationship that binds this small people to the God of the universe. The simple words "his faithfulness" and "his love" are a reference to the Covenant: it is through these words that, in the desert, God made himself known to the people he chose. The phrase "God of love and faithfulness" indicates that Israel is the chosen people, but the previous phrase reminds us that if Israel has been chosen, it is not to enjoy the privilege selfishly, not to consider itself the only child, but to behave as an older brother, and its role is to proclaim God's love for all people, so as to gradually integrate all humanity into the Covenant. In this psalm, this certainty even marks the composition of the text; if you look more closely, you will notice the inclusion of verses 2 and 3. I would remind you that inclusion is a literary device often found in the Bible. It is a bit like a box in a newspaper or magazine; obviously, the purpose is to highlight the text written inside the box. In the Bible, it works the same way: the central text is highlighted, framed by two identical phrases, one before and one after. Here, the central phrase speaks of Israel, the chosen people, and is framed by two phrases that speak of the nations: the first phrase, 'The Lord has made known his salvation, he has revealed his righteousness in the sight of the nations', and the second concerns Israel: "He has remembered his love, his faithfulness to the house of Israel" and the third: "All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God". Here the term "the nations" does not appear but is replaced by the expression "all the ends of the earth". This means that the election of Israel is central, but we must not forget that it must radiate to all humanity. A second emphasis of this psalm is the very marked proclamation of God's kingship. For example, in the Temple of Jerusalem they sing: "Acclaim the Lord, all the earth, acclaim your king." This psalm is a cry of victory, the cry that rises on the battlefield after triumph, the teru'ah in honour of the victor. The victory of God, referred to here, is twofold: first, it is the victory of liberation from Egypt, and second, it is the victory expected at the end of time, God's definitive victory over all the forces of evil. Even then, God was acclaimed as the new king was once acclaimed on the day of his coronation, with cries of victory to the sound of trumpets, horns and the applause of the crowd. But while with the kings of the earth there was always disappointment, this time we know that we will not be disappointed; that is why this time the teru'ah must be particularly vibrant! Christians acclaim God with even greater force, because they have seen the king of the world with their own eyes: since the Incarnation of the Son, they know and affirm, against all apparent evidence to the contrary, that the Kingdom of God, that is, of love, has already begun.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (2:8-13)

The hymn "Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead; he is our salvation, our eternal glory" is found in its original context in the Second Letter to Timothy, where Paul writes: "Remember Jesus Christ, descendant of David". In the Jewish milieu, it was essential to affirm that Jesus was truly of the lineage of David in order to be recognised as the Messiah. Paul adds: 'He was raised from the dead: this is my Gospel'. The question is radical: either Jesus rose from the dead, or he did not. Paul, initially convinced that it was an invention, had tried to prevent the spread of this proclamation. But after his experience on the road to Damascus, he saw the Risen One and became his witness. Jesus is the conqueror of death and evil, and with him a new world is born, in which believers must participate with their whole lives. For this reason, Paul consecrates himself to proclaiming the Gospel and invites Timothy to do the same, preparing him for opposition and encouraging him to fight the good fight with courage, gentleness and trust in the Spirit he has received. The resurrection is the heart of the Christian faith. While for many Jews the resurrection of the flesh was credible, for the Greeks it was difficult to accept, as shown by the failure of Paul's preaching in Athens. Precisely because of his proclamation of the resurrection, Paul was imprisoned several times: "Christ has been raised from the dead; this is my Gospel. For his sake I suffer, even to the point of being chained like a criminal." Timothy, too, Paul warns, will have to suffer for the Gospel. Paul's chains do not stop the truth: 'I am in chains, but the Word of God is not in chains'. Jesus himself had said that if they remain silent, the stones will cry out, because nothing can stop the truth. Paul adds that he endures everything for the elect, so that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. Here the opening hymn echoes and probably follows an ancient baptismal hymn introduced with the formula: "Here is a word worthy of faith: If we died with him, we will live with him; if we persevere, we will reign with him." It is the mystery of Baptism, already explained in Romans 6: with it we are immersed in the death and resurrection of Christ, united with him in an inseparable way. Passion, death and resurrection constitute a single event that inaugurated a new era for humanity. The last sentences highlight the tension between human freedom and God's faithfulness because if we deny him, he too will deny us: God respects our conscious rejection. If we lack faith, he remains faithful, because he cannot deny himself, since God always remains faithful even in the face of our frailty.

From the Gospel according to Luke (17:11-19)

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, where his passion, death and resurrection await him. Luke emphasises the itinerary because what he narrates is linked to the mystery of salvation. During the journey, he meets ten lepers who, forced to remain at a distance according to the Law, cry out to him, calling him 'Master': this is a sign both of their weakness and of the trust they place in him. Unlike another episode (Lk 5:12), this time Jesus does not touch them, but only orders them to go and present themselves to the priests, a necessary step for official recognition of their healing. The order is already a promise of salvation. The story recalls the episode of Naaman and the prophet Elisha (2 Kings 5) in the first reading because as the ten set out on their journey, their leprosy disappears: their trust saves them. The disease had united them, but the healing reveals the difference in their hearts: nine Jews go to the priests, only one, a Samaritan, considered a heretic, returns. He recognises that life and healing come from God, glorifies God aloud, prostrates himself at Jesus' feet and gives him thanks: an attitude reserved for God. Thus he recognises the Messiah and understands that the true place to give glory to God is no longer the Temple in Jerusalem, but Jesus himself. His return is conversion, and Jesus proclaims it: "Get up and go; your faith has saved you." Jesus asks the other nine to account for themselves: they met the Messiah but did not recognise him, choosing to run immediately to the Temple to fulfil the Law without stopping to give thanks. The Gospel thus emphasises a recurring theme: salvation is for everyone, but often it is not those closest to God who welcome it: "He came among his own, and his own did not recognise him." Already the Old Testament affirmed the universality of salvation (cf. Ps 97/98). The first reading recalls the conversion of Naaman, a foreigner, and Jesus had rebuked Nazareth, citing the example of the Syrian who was healed while many lepers in Israel were not (Lk 4:27), arousing the anger of the synagogue. In Acts, Luke will again show the contrast between the rejection of part of Israel and the acceptance of the pagans. This question was alive in the early Christian communities: did one have to be Jewish to receive baptism, or could pagans also be accepted? The story of the converted Samaritan recalls three truths: the salvation brought by Christ through his passion, death and resurrection is for everyone; thanksgiving is often best performed by foreigners or heretics; the poor are the most open to encountering God. In conclusion, on the road to Jerusalem, that is, to salvation, Jesus leads all men who are willing to convert, whatever their origin or religion.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [5 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Paul's recommendations to Timothy are also very useful for us. And the word of the Gospel opens our hearts to humble trust in the fulfilment of our mission.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Habakkuk (1:2-3; 2:2-4) 

The prophet Habakkuk is not very popular today, but he certainly was at the time of the New Testament, since he is quoted several times. For example, the Virgin Mary's phrase in the Magnificat: "I rejoice in the Lord, I exult in God my saviour" was already found, centuries earlier, in the book of Habakkuk (Hab 3:18); it is also from him that St Paul drew and quoted several times a phrase that is part of our reading today: "The righteous shall live by his faith" (Rom 1:17; Gal 3:11). This little book is really a booklet, only three chapters, each with about twenty verses, but what a wealth of feelings! From lamentation to violence, from invocation for help to pure exultation. His cries of anguish bring to mind Job: "How long, O Lord, shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? I will cry out to you, 'Violence!' and you will not save?" (Hab 1:2). Yet hope never abandons him: when St Peter invites his readers to be patient, he repeats an expression inspired by Habakkuk: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise..." (2 Pt 3:9). The first verses resemble the book of Job: "How long, Lord, shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? I will cry out to you, 'Violence!' and you will not save?" It is a plea in the face of rampant violence, but above all it is a cry of extreme anguish, that of God's silence. Here, as in the book of Job and in many psalms, the Bible dares to say things in which man seems to call God to account: 'How long, O Lord, shall I cry for help, and thou wilt not hear? I will cry out to you, 'Violence!' and you will not save?" The violence Habakkuk speaks of is that of Babylon, the new emerging power in the Middle East. Since the beginning of time, the same atrocities of war have been repeated, as we can clearly see even today. Yet Habakkuk does not lose his faith. In another verse, he states: 'I will stand at my watch, I will station myself on the ramparts, and I will keep watch to see what the Lord will say to me' (Hab 2:1). There are at least two things in this expression: first of all, it is the watchman's expectation, certain that dawn will come; it is the same theme as in Psalm 129/130: 'My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the dawn." The second is the awareness that his questioning is somewhat bold: the prophet has asked God for an explanation and expects to be rebuked. Instead, God's response does not bring any condemnation; he only invites him to patience and trust: the days of the enemy's victory will not last forever (cf. Hab 2:2-3). In today's text, Habakkuk does not describe the content of the vision, which will be the subject of the following chapter, but we can already guess that it concerns the liberation of the oppressed. However, one fact remains: God has not really answered the question; he has not said why he sometimes seems deaf to our prayers. He has only reaffirmed that he never abandons us. Habakkuk's message seems to be this: in trials, even the most terrible ones, the only possible path for the believer is to keep faith in God: to accept not understanding, but not to accuse God. Any other position is destructive because distrust of God brings only pain. This is probably the meaning of the final formula: 'The righteous shall live by his faith' (Hab 2:4), or, in other words, it is trust in God that keeps us alive, otherwise suspicion and rebellion wear us down. On the contrary, it is legitimate to cry out in pain: if the Bible has us read cries of anguish and even reproaches directed at God in the book of Job and in the Psalms, it is because believers have the right to cry out in suffering, in impatience in the face of the violence that crushes them. Let us return to the final sentence: 'Behold, the unrighteous man shall perish, but the righteous shall live by his faith' (Habakkuk 2:4). The proud one is Babylon, which boasts of its conquests and thinks it can build lasting prosperity on them; the righteous one, on the other hand, knows that only God gives life. The most famous example in the history of Israel is Abraham: when he left his land and his family to respond to God's call, he did not know where he would be led. When, still obeying God, he prepared to offer his only son, he did not understand, but he continued to trust the One who had given him his son. And once again, his faith gave life to him and his son (Gen 22). Scripture says of him: 'Abraham believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness' (Gen 15:6).

*Responsorial Psalm (94/95:1-2, 6-7ab, 7d-8a, 9)

We are in the temple in Jerusalem, pilgrims are crowding the steps of the temple for a great celebration: "Come, let us sing to the Lord, let us acclaim the rock of our salvation". The rock of our salvation: this expression alone is a profession of faith. Israel has chosen to rely on God and God alone, as in the early days of the Covenant. The Bible often compares the history of the people of Israel to an engagement with their God. After the initial enthusiasm and promises, doubts and infidelities arose. God, however, always remained faithful, and after every storm and every infidelity, Israel always returned to Him, like a repentant bride grateful for the ever-renewed Covenant: Let us go to Him with thanksgiving. The Hebrew word here is tôdah: it indicates a specific moment in the worship of the Covenant, the sacrifice of tôdah, which expresses gratitude, thanksgiving, praise, repentance, and the desire to love... In modern Hebrew, thanks is still said tôdah. An English term that would sum up this psalm well is gratitude: recognising God, knowing who He is, knowing who we are, and then gratitude overwhelms us.First and foremost, recognising God: our Creator but, even more so, our liberator. It seems simple to trust in this God who guides and protects us, this God who freed us from slavery in Egypt. It is simple, as long as there are no problems. But when trials come, doubts arise. Yet it is precisely in trials that our trust is tested, and this is where the question of trust arises. In the Bible, listening means trusting; listening to his voice is also the opposite of hardening one's heart. In fact, the psalm continues: 'Today, if you hear his voice! Do not harden your hearts as at Meribah, as on the day of Massah in the desert, where your fathers tempted me, testing me even though they had seen my works'. Massa and Meriba mean, precisely, temptation and provocation. The episode of Massa and Meriba has remained famous in the memory of Israel as a symbol of the temptation to suspect God as soon as the first difficulty arises. The people began to regret slavery because their newly won freedom seemed very uncomfortable. In Egypt they were slaves, of course, but at least they survived... in the desert, the people were thirsty and a revolt broke out. The text says that the people murmured, but the term is probably stronger than in our English today, because Moses exclaims to God: "A little more and they will stone me!" (Ex 17:4). God intervenes, and water gushes from the rock (here the image returns: God, my rock). How much better it would have been to trust! In suffering, as we saw in Habakkuk in the first reading, we can cry out, beg, call on God, but never doubt Him. Massa and Meriba remain the names of that suspicion that can always resurface in our hearts.

*Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (1:6-8, 13-14)

When Paul writes his second letter to Timothy, he is in prison in Rome, shortly before his execution; he himself says that he is chained like a criminal and asks Timothy not to be ashamed of him, as others have been. He knows very well that he does not have much time left and feels very alone. This second letter to Timothy is therefore a kind of testament: Timothy will have to take his place and Paul gives him recommendations in this regard. It should be noted that, for reasons of style, vocabulary and even content, it is generally thought that the letters to Timothy were not written by Paul, but by one of his disciples after his death. It is not possible to settle this difficult question and, in order to be faithful to the teaching of these letters, we must not get lost in endless discussions. For the sake of convenience, we will therefore continue to refer to Paul and Timothy. After all, whether it is Paul and Timothy or their future disciples is of little importance to us now: what matters is the content of these letters, which contain Paul's recommendations to a young Christian leader, and therefore concern us closely. The first recommendation is perhaps the most important: "Revive the free gift of God"; this gift of God, if we read the rest of the text, is clearly the Holy Spirit. And, visibly, Timothy will really need it! Paul, chained for the Gospel, knows this all too well. Timothy received this gift of the Spirit through the laying on of hands: the words 'confirmation' and 'ordination' did not yet exist, but we know that, from the beginning of the Church, the gesture of laying on of hands signified the gift of the Spirit. 'Stir up the gift of God within you' means that God's gifts can therefore lie dormant within us. Elsewhere Paul says: "Do not quench the Spirit" (cf. 1 Thess 5:19). Here too, we can hear a message that encourages us to carry the fire of the Spirit within us, and even if it seems that we have covered it with ashes, it is still within us, burning under the ashes, since nothing can extinguish it. This Spirit is not a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love and self-control. Here we find a theme dear to Paul: that of the transmission of faith. Paul passed on this precious treasure to Timothy, who in turn must pass it on, and so on: Hold fast to the pattern of sound words which you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit with the help of the Holy Spirit who dwells in us. Elsewhere, in his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul wrote: 'I have passed on to you what I myself have received' (cf. 15:3-4). This brings to mind a relay race, in which the runners pass on a baton that remains the same from the beginning to the end of the race, while the deposit of faith is inevitably expressed in different terms over the centuries. Faith, in fact, is not a neatly packaged, untouchable object. The problem, however, is knowing whether the transmission is truly faithful. Many controversies over the centuries have arisen from differences among Christians about the content of the deposit of faith. But in reality, we are not the ultimate guarantors of this fidelity: it is the Holy Spirit who is the supreme guardian of the deposit of faith. In order to faithfully pass on the torch to subsequent generations, we need only to rekindle in ourselves the gift of God, the fire of the Spirit that nothing can extinguish.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (17:5-10)

 Here we find several verses that follow one another and are not similar. It almost seems as if there are two parts to this text: in the first, a dialogue between Jesus and his apostles about faith, with Jesus' somewhat terrible formula: 'If you had faith as small as a mustard seed, you would say to this tree, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea," and it would obey you'. In the second part, there is a kind of parable about the servant, which also ends with a very strong statement by Jesus: 'When you have done all that you were commanded, say, "We are unworthy servants. We have done what we ought to have done." Jesus is certainly not trying to discourage us; on the other hand, if these verses are so close together, without any interruption, it means that there is a connection between them. Here we have a dialogue between Christ and his apostles, that is, his envoys, which means that this phrase of Jesus concerns the activity of evangelisation. The envoys say to the one who sends them: Increase our faith! This is a prayer that is also very often ours when we become aware of our weakness, our powerlessness, and it seems to us that if we were richer in faith we would be more effective. But how can we reconcile this with Paul's words: "If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing" (1 Cor 13:2)? In his language, Jesus replies that it is not a question of measuring our faith: that is not the problem. Rather, it is a question of relying on God's power, because it is He who acts, not our faith, however small or great it may be. Jesus deliberately emphasises the paradox: the mustard seed was considered the smallest of all seeds, and the large tree he speaks of (in Greek, sycamore) was considered impossible to uproot. Jesus' statement therefore means: You don't need to have a lot of faith: a tiny mustard seed is enough to do seemingly impossible things. It could then be translated as follows: When you act in the name of the Gospel, remember that nothing is impossible for God. Then there is the expression 'useless servants' archreioi (17:10), which we can translate as follows: you are simply servants who are not even indispensable, called to serve in a task that is beyond you. And - I would say - fortunately so, because who would feel strong enough to bear the responsibility of the Kingdom of God? These words of Jesus, therefore, are not harsh or discouraging, but on the contrary, they are meant to encourage us: if we are only subordinates, the responsibility does not fall on us, but that does not make us useless: if the servant were truly useless, no master would keep him. If God takes us as servants, it is because he wants to need us. If Jesus chose the apostles and said that 'the harvest is plentiful but the labourers are few' (Mt 9:37-38), and if his words continue to resonate two thousand years later, it is because he wants our collaboration. We are what we are, and God associates us with his work of salvation. Jesus says: "When you have done all that you were commanded, say, 'We are unworthy servants. We have done what we ought to have done'" (17:10). In doing so, he suggests two attitudes: first, he invites us once again to abandon the logic of merits and rewards, but above all, he invites us to remain serene in the exercise of our mission. He is the master of the harvest, not us. Then we can better understand the connection between the two parts of this text: the message is the same: a little faith, however small, is enough for God to perform miracles. On condition, however, that we faithfully place ourselves at his service.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [28 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. We continue our teaching on wealth and our relationship with the poor, a subject that is particularly relevant for our reflection in the face of the injustices, both large and small, that we see in the news every day.

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Amos (6:1a, 4-7)

In the Bible, Amos is the first 'writing' prophet, that is, the first of whom a book remains. Other great prophets before him remained very famous: Elijah, for example, or Elisha, or Nathan... but we do not have their written sermons, only memories handed down by those around them. Amos preached around 780-750 BC and certainly had to say things that not everyone liked, since he was eventually expelled after being denounced to the king.  Originally from the south, he preached in the north during a period of great economic prosperity. Last week we read one of his texts in which he rebuked some rich people for building their wealth at the expense of the poor. Today's passage gives us an idea of the luxury that reigned in Samaria: 'Lying on beds of ivory... they eat lambs from the flock and calves from the stall... they sing to the sound of the harp like David and anoint themselves with the finest ointments, but they do not worry about Joseph's ruin'. The rulers do not know or do not want to know that a terrible threat hangs over them: 'they do not care about the ruin of Joseph'. They will then be deported, indeed they will be the first to be deported, and the band of revellers will no longer exist. This prophet of doom, who sought to warn the powerful and the ruling class, was not listened to; on the contrary, he was silenced by getting rid of him. But what he feared came true. Amos therefore addresses the rich and powerful, those in charge. What exactly does he reproach them for? The first sentence gives us the key: 'Woe to those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria'. In other words: you are comfortable, satisfied with your well-being and even your luxury... well, I pity you because you have understood nothing: you are like people who hide under the covers so as not to see the cyclone coming, and this whole society will collapse, crushed a few years later by the Assyrians, with many dead and the survivors deported. Woe to those who feel secure on the mountain of Samaria'... But what are they doing wrong? The wrong is to base their security on what is passing: some ephemeral military success, economic prosperity and the appearances of piety... so as not to displease God and his prophet. They even boast of their successes, believing they deserve some credit, when everything comes from God. Now, Israel's only security is fidelity to the Covenant. This is the great insistence of all the prophets, as Micah will do a few years later when he preaches in Jerusalem. Hypocrisy reigned in Samaria: when they offer sacrifices, they turn the banquet that follows into a revelry... because the meals that Amos describes are probably sacred meals, like those that followed certain sacrifices. Sacrilegious meals, therefore, that have nothing to do with the Covenant. The difficulty of this passage lies in its conciseness: in fact, to understand it, one must have in mind the whole of prophetic preaching; Amos' logic, like that of all the prophets, is as follows: the happiness of individuals and peoples inevitably depends on fidelity to the Covenant with God; and fidelity to the Covenant means social justice and trust in God, and if one departs from these two points, one is lost. This is what Amos is talking about, and we need only reread last Sunday's text, in which he rebuked the rich for enriching themselves on the backs of the poor. In today's text, the luxury banquets described obviously do not benefit everyone, and the need for God is no longer felt. Isaiah will also say: 'This people honours me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me' (Is 29:13). Samaria was covered with luxurious palaces, built by some at the expense of others; once they had become rich, thanks to flourishing trade, it was easy to expropriate small landowners, reducing some of the poorest to slavery, as in last Sunday's text. Archaeology also provides interesting details on this point: while in the tenth century the houses were all of the same model and represented identical standards of living, in the eighth century, on the contrary, there was a clear distinction between rich and poor neighbourhoods.

*Responsorial Psalm (145/146, 6c.7, 8.9a, 9bc-10)

This splendid litany is only part of Psalm 145/146, and today's liturgy does not include the Alleluias that frame it in the Hebrew text, as it is an Alleluia psalm. This means that, as last Sunday, we are faced with a psalm of praise. Speaking in this psalm are the oppressed, the hungry, the blind, the bent over, the strangers, the widows, and the orphans who recognise God's concern for them. In reality, it is the people of Israel who speak of themselves: it is their own history that they recount and give thanks for God's protection, having experienced all these situations: oppression in Egypt, from which God freed them with a mighty hand and outstretched arm, and oppression in Babylon, where once again God intervened. They experienced hunger in the desert, and God sent manna and quails. God opens the eyes of these blind people, revealing himself progressively through his prophets. It is these broken people that God tirelessly lifts up and makes stand; they are the people seeking justice that God guides. It is therefore a song of gratitude: The Lord brings justice to the oppressed, gives bread to the hungry, frees prisoners, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who have fallen, loves the righteous, protects the stranger and supports the widow and the orphan. The Lord, who returns in a liturgical manner, is the translation of the Name of God in four letters, the Tetragrammaton: YHVH, which speaks of his active and liberating presence. The verse preceding today's verses sums them all up: 'Blessed is he who has the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord (YHVH) his God': the secret of happiness is to rely on God and expect everything from Him. This psalm is chosen for this Sunday as a response to the text of Amos, who warned the people of Samaria to know well in whom to place their trust, fleeing false securities because only God is trustworthy. Recognising our dependence on God and living it with complete trust, because He is total benevolence: this is the definition of faith and the secret of happiness, as the prophets preach.  We must not forget the unique experience that the children of Israel had the privilege of enjoying: throughout their journey to freedom, they experienced the presence of the One they recognised as the Lord who led them in their search for freedom and justice for all, indeed for greater justice, respect and defence of the small and the weak. If we look more closely, we see that the law of Israel has no other goal: to make Israel a free people, respectful of the freedom of others. God leads his people on this long journey of liberation. It is good for us to reread this psalm not only to recognise what God does for his people, but also to give us a course of action: if God has acted in this way towards Israel, we, who are heirs to this long journey of Covenant, are in turn obliged to do the same for others.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (6:11-16)

One could not imagine a more complete summary of everything that constitutes the faith and life of a Christian. At the same time, Paul's solemn formulas are surprising: 'Before God and... Christ Jesus, I charge you'. At first reading, one seems to perceive echoes of difficulties in the community of Ephesus, where Timothy had responsibilities: 'Fight the good fight of faith'. A little earlier in the same letter, Paul had already spoken of the fight for the faith in the first chapter (1 Tim 1:18-19). There is therefore a battle to be fought in order to affirm one's faith. The moment is serious, which explains the solemn tone: the fidelity of the young Christian community to its baptism is at stake. The passage we read today is framed by two very similar texts that further clarify the two dangers to be avoided: false doctrines and the pursuit of riches. We must believe that there were real problems with false doctrines: Timothy, guard the deposit, avoid ungodly chatter and pseudo-scientific objections. Because they professed it (meaning this pseudo-science), some strayed from the faith (cf. 1 Tim 6:20-21). And in the same vein, a few verses earlier: If anyone teaches a different doctrine, if he does not adhere to the words of the Lord Jesus Christ and to the doctrine in accordance with godliness, he is blinded by pride. He is ignorant, sick, seeking controversy and verbal disputes (1 Tim 6:3-4). This problem had already appeared at the beginning of the letter, and Paul had recommended that Timothy remain in Ephesus (cf. 1 Tim 1:3-4). He then insists with the same force on the risk of seeking riches because the root of all evil is the love of money (cf. 1 Tim 6:10). These, then, are the two worst dangers to the faith in Paul's eyes, and he invites Timothy to remain faithful to his baptism. In Paul's time, baptisms were administered in front of the entire community, and in the baptismal rite itself, the profession of faith was a very important moment because the 'yes' of our baptism is rooted in Christ's 'yes' to the Father, and we must be able to repeat this 'yes' day after day. Timothy will need all his strength, which is why Paul multiplies his recommendations that he persevere in fighting for the faith in order to obtain eternal life. The weapons of combat are faith, love, perseverance and gentleness, which is the main weapon. True combat has nothing to do with religious wars, and history shows that religious wars have never converted anyone. The goal on which we must always keep our eyes fixed is eternal life, which is also the manifestation ('epiphany') of Christ. Paul concludes with a kind of profession of faith, which is precisely what Timothy must continue to affirm against all adversity: 'God is the blessed and only Sovereign, the King of kings and Lord of lords, the only one who possesses immortality and dwells in unapproachable light, whom no man has ever seen or can see'. God is the All-Other, a theme we find in the Old Testament: it is the transcendence of God, the All-Other who nevertheless draws close to us and, at the appointed time, will reveal the Lord Jesus Christ.

From the Gospel according to Luke (16:19-31)

The last sentence is doubly terrible: "If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be persuaded even if someone rises from the dead."  This statement seems desperate, as if nothing can change a heart of stone, and it is even more terrible coming from the mouth of Jesus. When Luke wrote the Gospel, he knew full well that Christ's Resurrection had not converted everyone; on the contrary, it had hardened the hearts of some even more. Let us move on to the story of the rich man and poor Lazarus: we do not know much about the rich man, not even his name; it is not said that he is evil; on the contrary, later he will think of saving his brothers from misfortune in the afterlife. However, he lives in his own world, so immersed in his comfort, like the Samaritans mentioned by Amos in the first reading, that he does not even see the beggar dying of hunger at his door who would be content with his leftovers. The poor man's name is Lazarus, which means 'God helps', and this already says a lot: God helps him, not because he is virtuous, but simply because he is poor. This is perhaps the first surprise that Jesus has in store for his listeners: this story was a well-known tale from Egypt, about two characters, a rich man full of sins and a poor man full of virtues: when they arrive in the afterlife, they are weighed on the scales, and the good and bad deeds of both the rich and the poor are evaluated. The good, both rich and poor, were rewarded, while the bad, rich or poor, were punished. Even the rabbis before Jesus told similar stories: the rich man was the son of a sinful tax collector, while the poor man was a very devout man; they too were weighed on the scales and the merits of each were carefully evaluated, with the devout man proving to be more deserving than the tax collector's son. Jesus upsets this logic somewhat: he does not calculate merits and good deeds because it is not said that Lazarus is virtuous and the rich man evil, but simply notes that the rich man remained rich all his life, while the poor man remained poor at his door: this signifies the abyss of indifference that was created between rich and poor, simply because the rich man never opened his door. Another important detail in Jesus' story: it is not entirely true that we know nothing about the rich man, because he tells us how he was dressed: in purple and linen, a clear allusion to the clothes of priests. The colour purple, originally the colour of royal clothing, had become the colour of the high priests because they served the king of the world; linen was the fabric of the high priest's tunic. Jesus means that you can be the High Priest, but if you despise your brothers, you do not deserve the title of children of Abraham. In fact, Abraham is mentioned seven times and is certainly a key to the text. Jesus' question is: "Who is truly a son of Abraham?" and he answers that if you do not listen to the Law and the Prophets, if you are indifferent to the suffering of your brothers, you are not a son of Abraham. And he goes further: the poor man would have liked to eat the rich man's crumbs, but it was the dogs that licked his sores. Dogs were unclean animals... so even if the pious rich man had taken the trouble to open the door, he would still have been scandalised and would have fled from that unclean man licked by dogs... Jesus' lesson is therefore: You worry about merits, you try to remain pure, you are proud to be descendants of Abraham... but you forget the essential... No extraordinary signs are needed to convert: the Law with the Prophets is enough, and for us the Gospel is enough: but we must live them!

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [21 September 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. As we resume our pastoral activities, the word of God guides us to understand where the true riches of life lie. 

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Amos (8:4–7)

This is certainly a grave moment, for this text from the prophet Amos concludes with a solemn formula: 'The Lord swears by the pride of Jacob' (v. 7). 'The pride of Jacob' is God himself, because he is (or should be) the only pride of his people; in other words, the Lord swears by himself. God can only commit himself to himself! But what is God swearing about? He assures that he will not forget "all their deeds", that is, all the misdeeds of Israel that the prophet Amos condemns because they seek only to enrich themselves at the expense of others. Amos is a prophet of the 8th century BC, when Palestine was divided into two kingdoms. A small shepherd from a village in the south (Tekoa, near Bethlehem), he was chosen by God to go and preach in the northern kingdom, also called Samaria after its capital. Under the reign of Jeroboam II, around 750 BC, Samaria experienced a period of economic prosperity, but this prosperity did not benefit everyone. On the contrary, Amos noted that the enrichment of some came at the expense of the impoverishment of others, simply because basic necessities, such as daily bread or sandals, were in the hands of unscrupulous sellers. Thus, the poor had no other solution, in order not to die of hunger or cold, than to sell themselves as slaves, 'buying the needy and the poor for a pair of sandals' (v. 6). Those who suffer injustice may try to seek justice, but whenever there is a trial for fraud or obvious scams, the courts take the side of the rich against the poor simply because the rich pay the judges. Amos says it clearly: 'They turn justice into poison and throw righteousness to the ground' (5:7). Justice itself is distorted, corrupted. The text we have heard is therefore one in which Amos speaks to announce God's judgement, and it is a veritable indictment: he states the facts, then gives his verdict: You crush the poor, you destroy the humble of the earth, and you ask when the new moon festival will be over so that we can sell our grain?  The new moon, the first day of the month (called 'neomenia'), was a holiday: no work, no travel, no commercial activity was allowed because it was a day of rest like the Sabbath. This time of suspension of business served to turn man towards God. But here it seems that it is lived with impatience, because man now has another master: money, and for those whose only thought is profit, a day of rest is a loss. This is why Amos rebukes: 'Hear this, you who trample on the poor... and say, "When will the new moon be over so that we may sell our grain? (v.7). He targets dishonest sellers, for whom trade means fraud, with exorbitant prices and falsified scales. The image of the falsified scales has a double meaning: on the one hand, we understand how a crooked balance can falsify a measurement, but, more profoundly, it means that the whole of society lives on rigged scales. Ultimately, Amos reproaches the people of Samaria for living in falsehood and injustice: the scales are rigged, justice is corrupt, holidays are observed reluctantly and with ulterior motives; in short, everything is rigged. Here, then, is the judgement: 'The Lord swears by the pride of Jacob: I will not forget all their deeds' (v. 7). In other words: You who enrich yourselves unjustly, quickly forget your crimes, and the courts follow you; but the Lord declares that all this must not be forgotten and that you must not become accustomed to injustice. Amos pronounces his warning in the most solemn way possible, because there is a very serious lesson: the first thing God asks of his people is to live in justice, and a society founded on injustice and misery of all kinds can only offend God. Amos is all the more severe because, for a hundred years, the Northern Kingdom has boasted of having eliminated idolatry by abolishing the cults of Baal; but in reality, what Amos reproaches them for is having fallen into an even more dangerous idolatry: that of money.

*Responsorial Psalm (113/[112])

This psalm is the first of those that Jesus sang on Holy Thursday evening before leaving for the Mount of Olives. The first word he sang was Alleluia, which literally means Praise God: Allelu is the imperative, praise; and Ya is the first syllable of the Holy Name. Therefore, it is a psalm of praise, as can be understood from the first word: Alleluia. The composition of this psalm is interesting, consisting of two parts of four verses each, framing a central verse. The central verse is a question: 'Who is like our Lord God? (v. 5) and the two parts contemplate the two faces of the mystery of God: his holiness and his mercy. In his revelation, God has made himself known as the Transcendent, the All-Holy and as the Merciful, the All-Near. To manifest his holiness, his Name, 'the Lord', is repeated, the Name of God, revealed by himself in four letters (YHWH) which, however, are never pronounced. And as we know, in the Bible, when these four letters appear, the Hebrew reader spontaneously replaces them with 'Adonai', which means My Lord, and which does not claim to describe or define God. The term 'Lord', which expresses well the distance between God and us, is used five times, while 'the Name' is used three times, and the verb 'to praise' three times. The great discovery is found in the central verse: 'Who is like our Lord God?': the God of glory is at the same time the God of mercy. The second part of the psalm describes God's action in favour of the smallest and poorest: he lifts the weak from the dust, he raises the poor from the rubbish (v. 7). Among the weak and poor was the barren woman, who lived in constant fear of being rejected: "He settles the barren woman in her home, a joyful mother of children" (v. 9). Sarah, Abraham's wife, experienced this miraculous reversal: the joy of the barren woman who, after several years, found herself with a house full of children. The Bible loves to emphasise these reversals of situation: because nothing is impossible for God. Mary's Magnificat is full of this confident certainty. When, after the Last Supper, Jesus sang this psalm with his disciples as they climbed the Mount of Olives, he felt the verse "he lifts the weak from the dust" in a special way. He was heading towards his death, and he certainly recognised here a proclamation of his resurrection. 

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (2:1-8)

At the heart of this passage is a phrase that sums up the entire Bible, is central to Paul's thinking, and above all is central to the history of humanity: "God our Saviour wants all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth" (v. 4). Every word is important: 'God wants': it is the mystery of his will, that plan of mercy that he had already established in himself to bring the times to their fullness, as the letter to the Ephesians says (cf. 1:9-10). God's will is a will for salvation that concerns all people.  Paul insists on the universal dimension of God's plan: "God, our Saviour, wants all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth." In sentences like this, the word "and" can be replaced by "that is"; we must therefore understand: God wants all men to be saved, that is, to come to the full knowledge of the truth. And what is truth? It is that God loves us and is always with us to fill us with his love. To be saved means to know this truth according to the biblical meaning of 'knowing': that is, to live it, to allow ourselves to be loved and transformed by it. As long as people do not know God's love, they remain prisoners, and Christ came to set us free. This is why we find the expression 'he gave himself as a ransom for all' (v. 6): each time, the word 'ransom' can be replaced with 'liberation': believing in God's love for all men and living by this love means being saved. So, true prayer, as Paul says, is entering into God's plan to be able to spread the Gospel like a spark that spreads. In the last sentence, Paul's insistence is not so much about outward appearance, but about the state of mind with which we must present ourselves in prayer: "I want men everywhere to pray, lifting up holy hands without anger or disputing." How can we enter into God's plan of love for all if our hearts are full of anger and evil intentions? Most likely, we can glimpse signs of serious difficulties, opposition, divisions, perhaps even persecution, in the community to which this letter was addressed. We cannot make precise assumptions, since we are not even sure of the date of the letter's composition, nor whether it is entirely by Paul or by one of his disciples. But that does not matter: what matters, in every age and in every difficulty, is that we must never forget that God wants all people to be saved and to come to the full knowledge of the truth, that is, of God's love.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (16:1-13)

This text holds a surprise: Jesus seems to be complimenting the swindlers: 'The master praised that dishonest steward because he had acted shrewdly' (v. 8). Be careful not to misunderstand! Jesus calls him dishonest, that is, wicked, because honesty was part of the most basic morality. Therefore, Jesus' intention is certainly not to go against basic morality, and he is careful to point out that the master praises the man for his shrewdness. If Jesus uses a provocative example, it is to make us reflect on something serious, as the last sentence shows: there is an urgent choice to be made between God and money because one cannot serve both God and money. Jesus lists a series of oppositions: between the children of this world and the children of light, between a small thing and a great thing, between deceitful money and authentic good, between the goods of others and what is truly ours. All these oppositions have a single purpose: to make us discover that money is a deception and that devoting one's life to making money is the wrong path; it is as serious as idolatry, which the prophets have always fought against. In the phrase, 'You cannot serve God and money', the verb 'serve' has a religious meaning. There is only one God: do not make idols, because all idolatry enslaves you, and money can become an end in itself and no longer a means. When you are obsessed with the desire to earn money, you quickly become a slave: it is important to beware of what you possess so that you are not possessed by it, as popular wisdom says. The Sabbath was also instituted to rediscover, once a week, the taste of gratuitousness, a way to remain free. Money is deceptive in two ways: first, it makes us believe that it will ensure our happiness, but one day we will have to leave everything behind. In Jesus' words, the expression 'when it fails' (v. 9) is an allusion to death, and there is certainly no great interest in being the richest person in the cemetery! Furthermore, money deceives us if we think that it belongs only to us. Jesus does not despise money, but puts it at the service of the Kingdom, that is, for the good of others, and no one is its owner, but rather its administrator. If it is true that there is no point in being the richest person in the cemetery, it makes a lot of sense to be rich so that others can benefit from it too. The question "if you have not been faithful with dishonest wealth, who will entrust you with true wealth?" (v. 11) helps us to understand that trust is important in the use of money: God trusts us, entrusts us with money of which we are administrators and responsible. All our wealth, of whatever kind, has been entrusted to us as stewards so that we may share it, transforming it into happiness for those around us. This helps us to better understand the previous parable, the story of the steward threatened with dismissal who, in order to save himself, once again gives gifts from his master's goods to make friends who will welcome him. He was completely dishonest, but he was able to quickly find an ingenious solution to secure his future. The cunning here lies in using money as a means and not as an end. It is therefore not dishonesty that Jesus admires, but skill: what are we waiting for to find creative solutions to secure everyone's future? The thirst for gain makes many people inventive; Jesus would like our passion for justice or peace to make us just as inventive! The day we devote as much time and intelligence to seeking ways of peace, justice and sharing as we devote to accumulating more money than we need, the face of the world will change. Ultimately, the moral of the parable can be summarised as follows: choose God decisively and put the same intelligence that you would use to make money at the service of the Kingdom. The children of light know that money is only a small thing; the Kingdom is the big thing, and that is why they do not serve money as a deity, but use it for the good of all.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole