Second Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [18 January 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Today begins the week of prayer for Christian unity (18-25 January) and Ordinary Time resumes.

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (49:3-6)

This passage belongs to a group of four texts from the prophet Isaiah, called the "Songs of the Servant". They date back to the dramatic period of the Babylonian Exile (6th century BC) and are addressed to a discouraged people who wonder if God has forgotten them. The prophet, however, announces a decisive word: Israel is still God's servant. The Covenant is not broken; God has not only not abandoned his people, but entrusts them with an even greater mission. In this song, the Servant is not a particular individual, but the people of Israel as a whole, as the text clearly states: 'You are my servant, Israel'. Its vocation is equally clear: to manifest the glory of God. This glory is not abstract, but concrete: it is God's work of salvation, identified here with the return from exile. The liberation of the people will be the visible proof that God is the saviour. Thus, those who have been saved become witnesses of salvation before the world. In the ancient mindset, the defeat and deportation of a people could seem like the failure of their God; liberation, on the other hand, will manifest to the pagan peoples the superiority of the God of Israel. Being a "servant" therefore means, on the one hand, the certainty of God's support and, on the other, a mission: to continue to believe in salvation and to bear witness to it, so that other peoples may also recognise God as saviour. This explains the final announcement: 'I will make you a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth'. God's plan concerns not only Israel but all humanity. Here, the messianic expectation evolves profoundly: the Messiah is no longer an individual king but a collective subject, the people of Israel, who do not exercise political power but carry out a mission of service. One difficulty remains: if the Servant is Israel, how can he "gather Israel"? Isaiah is actually addressing the "Remnant," the small group of faithful who did not lose their faith during the exile. This Remnant has the task of bringing the people back to God, that is, of converting them. But this is only the first stage: the rise of Israel becomes the initial sign of the plan of universal salvation. Finally, the prophet insists on the divine origin of this message: it is not the fruit of human invention, but the word of the Lord. In the midst of discouragement, a confession of humble and profound trust resounds: the Servant's strength is not in himself, but in God.

decisive role of the faithful Remnant. +The foundation of everything: strength comes from God alone, not from man.

*Responsorial Psalm (39/40) 

The statement in Psalm 39/40 – "sacrifice  and offering  you do not desire" is surprising, because the psalms were sung in the temple itself, while sacrifices were being offered. In reality, the meaning is clear: what matters to God is not the ritual itself, but the attitude of the heart that it expresses. This is why the psalmist can say: "You have opened my ears"... then I said: "Here I am, I am coming". The whole Bible recounts a long educational journey in understanding sacrifice, which goes hand in hand with the revelation of the true face of God. To sacrifice means "to make sacred", to enter into communion with God; but the way of doing so changes as we understand who God really is. Israel did not invent sacrifice: it was a common practice among the peoples of the Near East. However, from the beginning, biblical faith introduces a decisive difference: human sacrifices are absolutely forbidden. God is the God of life, and cannot ask for death in order to draw closer to Him. Even the story of Abraham and Isaac shows that 'sacrificing' does not mean killing, but offering. Over the centuries, a true conversion of sacrifice took place, concerning first and foremost its meaning. If God is thought of as a being to be appeased or bought, sacrifice becomes a magical gesture. If, on the other hand, God is recognised as the one who loves first and gives freely, then sacrifice becomes a response of love and gratitude, a sign of the Covenant and not a commodity to be exchanged. Biblical pedagogy thus leads from the logic of 'giving in order to receive' to the logic of grace: everything is a gift, and man is called to respond with the 'sacrifice of the lips', that is, with thanksgiving. The substance of sacrifice also changes: the prophets teach that the true sacrifice pleasing to God is to give life, not to give death. As Hosea says (6:6): 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice'. The ultimate ideal is the service of our brothers and sisters, expressed in the Songs of the Servant of Isaiah: a life given so that others may live. Psalm 39/40 summarises this journey: God opens man's ear to enter into a dialogue of love; in the New Covenant, sacrifice becomes totally spiritual: 'Behold, I come'.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (1:1-3)

This text celebrates the dignity of those of us who are baptised. It is chosen for this Sunday, which marks the return to ordinary time in the liturgy: ordinary does not mean trivial, but simply in the order of the year. Every Sunday we celebrate extraordinary events: here St Paul reminds us of the greatness of our title as Christians. According to Paul, we are those who invoke the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, recognising him as God. To say 'Lord' means that Jesus is the centre of our life, of history and of the world. This is why Paul calls us 'holy people': being holy does not mean being perfect, but belonging to God. Baptism consecrates us to Him, and the community deserves to be honoured in the Eucharistic celebration. If Jesus is not truly our Lord, we must question our faith. Paul emphasises the name of Christ several times in his letter, showing that our relationship with Him is the foundation of Christian life. All Christians are 'called': Paul himself did not choose to be an apostle, but was called by God on the road to Damascus. The word Church (ecclesia) means 'called', and every local community is called to reflect God's universal love. The mission is universal, but accessible: God does not ask us for extraordinary gestures, only willingness to do His will, as today's Psalm reminds us: 'Behold, I am coming'. The Eucharistic liturgy echoes Paul's words: in the gesture of peace and in the greeting 'The Lord be with you', we are immersed in the grace and peace of Christ. This text is particularly suitable for the week of prayer for Christian unity: it reminds us of what unites Christians throughout the world, called to be seeds of a new humanity, which one day will be reunited in grace and peace around Jesus Christ. The historical context of this letter: Corinth was a city of great wealth and poverty, a crossroads between the Adriatic and the Aegean, with a mixed population and marked social contrasts. The Christian community founded by Paul reflected these differences. The letter to the Corinthians that we read today is probably the first to have come down to us, written around 55-56 AD, in response to specific questions from the community.

From the Gospel according to John (1:29-34)

John the Baptist solemnly proclaims: "I have seen and testified that this is the Son of God." At that time, the title "Son of God" was synonymous with Messiah: to recognise this in Jesus meant to announce the Messiah awaited by Israel. Every king of Jerusalem received the anointing and the title of Son of God as a sign that the Spirit was guiding him; but unlike previous kings, Jesus is the one on whom the Spirit 'sleeps' permanently, indicating that his entire mission will be led by the Holy Spirit. John the Baptist also describes Jesus as 'the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world'. The figure of the lamb evokes three images: the Paschal Lamb, a sign of liberation; Isaiah's Suffering Servant, innocent and bearing the sins of others; the lamb offered by God, as in Abraham's trial with Isaac. Jesus is therefore the Messiah, the liberator of humanity, but he does not immediately eliminate sin: he offers us the possibility of freeing ourselves from it by living guided by the Spirit, with love, generosity and forgiveness. Salvation is not for one man alone, but for all believers, the 'Body of Christ'. The new humanity begins in Jesus, through his obedience and his full communion with God, offering a model of new life.

*Origen, in his commentary on the Gospel of John, writes: 'Thus John calls Jesus the Lamb of God: "Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." With these words, John declares that Christ, the one who was before him, is the one who takes away the sins of the world.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Revolution of healthy Tenderness

(Jn 1:29-34)

In the fourth Gospel the Baptist is not «the forerunner», but a «witness» of the Lamb Light that raises basic questions.

Alarmed, the authorities put him under investigation.

But it’s not he who sweeps away «sin», that is, the humiliation of unbridgeable distances - and the inability to correspond to the personal Vocation, for Life without limit.

Hindrance even underlined by the logic of the «world»: by the false teaching, by the very structure of the ancient official institution, so linked to the interweaving between religion and power.

Condemned to «noon-day» [culmination and full light] on Easter eve, Jesus crosses his earthly end with the hour when the priests of the Temple began to immolate the lambs of propitiation [originally, an apotropaic sacrifice that preceded transhumance].

As for the Lamb of the fathers in foreign land, who had spared them from the slaughter - his Blood gives impetus to cross the land of arid slavery, devoid of warmth and intimate consonance.

As is known, the effigy of the Lamb belongs to the sacrificial theological strand, stemming from the famous text of Isaiah 53 and from all the sacral imagery of the ancient East [which had elaborated a literature and a widespread thought on the King Messiah].

According to the biblical conception, the sovereign was a figure of the whole people and represented them. The Anointed would have had the ideal task of dragging away and atoning for human iniquities.

But Jesus does not "expiate" rather «extirpates». Not even "propitiates": the Father does not reject the precarious condition of his creatures.

In Christ who «supports and removes» all our shame and weaknesses, the Father’s Action is made intimate - for this reason decisive.

He doesn’t annihilate transgressions with a sort of amnesty, even vicarious: it would not be authentic salvation to touch only the suburbs and not the Core, to reactivate us.

An outer dress does not belong to us and will never be ours; it is not assimilated, nor does it become real life. Deletions don’t educate, far from it.

It’s true that a lamb in a world of cunning wolves has no escape. By introducing it you see it perish, but not as a designated victim: it was the only way for the beastmen who believe they were people, to understand that they were still only beasts.

Being considered strong, capable of commanding, excellent, untainted, magnificent, high-performing, extraordinary, glorious... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding. It makes the character we are sitting in, float above reality.

The Risen One introduces into the world a new force, a different dynamism, a way of teaching the soul that becomes a conscious process.

Only by educating us, does the Most High-neighbour annihilate and overcome the instinct of the fairs feeding each other, believing themselves to be authentic human beings - even spiritual.

A third allusion to the figure of the Lamb insists on the votive icon and archetypal category associated with the sacrifice of Abraham, where God himself provides for the victim (Gn 22).

Of course he provides: he did not create us angelic, but malformed, transient. Yet, every divine Gift passes through our shaky ‘condition’ - which is not sin, nor guilt, but a matter of fact; so nourishment, and resource.

We are Perfect in the multiplicity of our creative slopes, even in the limit: a blasphemy for the ancient religious man... a reality for the person of Faith.

Authentic Lamb is not just a [moral] reference: the Meekness of those who are called to give everything of themselves, even their skin.

It is an image of the (blatant) ‘boundary’ of those who could never make it to genius in life, so they ‘let themselves be found’ and loaded on the shoulders.

In this way, no decision-making delirium.

It will be the Friend of our vocational nucleus who will transmit strength and devise the way to make us return to the House that is truly ours: the Tent that stitches together the scattered events.

Dwelling that rewires all the being we should - and maybe even could - have brought to fruit.

Incarnation here means that the Lamb is depiction of an accepted - unusual - globality of the divine Face in men.

Totality finally solid - paradoxical, conciliated - that recovers its opposite innocent, natural, spontaneous, incapable of miracle.

Thus, the Dove, an icon of modest, non-aggressive energy; an example of attachment to one's «own» Nest.

Healthy Tenderness, which starts with self-knowledge.

Lamb and Dove: the peaceful differences - between strong-willed, improper, irritable religiosity, and personal Faith.

[2nd Sunday in O.T.  (year A), January 18, 2026]

Behold the Lamb, in the lambs

(Jn 1:29-34)

In the fourth Gospel, the Baptist is not 'the precursor', but a 'witness' to the Light Lamb who raises fundamental questions.

Alarmed, the authorities investigate him.

But it is not he who sweeps away 'sin', that is, the humiliation of unbridgeable distances - and the inability to respond to one's personal Vocation, to Life without limits.

This hindrance is even emphasised by the logic 'of the world': by false teaching, by the very structure of the ancient official institution, so closely linked to the intertwining of religion and power.

Condemned at 'midday' [the height and full light] of Easter Eve, Jesus' earthly journey coincides with the hour when the priests of the Temple began to sacrifice the lambs of propitiation [originally an apotropaic sacrifice that preceded transhumance].

As with the Lamb of the fathers in a foreign land, who had spared them from slaughter, his Blood gives impetus to cross the land of arid slavery.

The 'Egypt' of the pharaohs, devoid of warmth and intimate harmony (which lead us to premature death).

As is well known, the image of the Lamb belongs to the sacrificial theological tradition, which originated in the famous text of Isaiah 53 and in all the sacred imagery of the ancient East [which had developed a literature and widespread belief in the Messiah King].

According to the biblical conception, the sovereign united and represented the entire people. The Anointed One would have had the ideal task of carrying away and atoning for human iniquities.

But Jesus does not 'atone' but 'uproots'. Nor does he 'propitiate': the Father does not reject the precarious condition of his creatures, nor does he establish a protectorate favourable to a circle (like the God of archaic religions).

In Christ, who 'supports and removes' all our shame and weaknesses, the Father's action becomes intimate - and therefore decisive.

He does not destroy transgressions with a kind of amnesty, even vicarious: it would not be authentic salvation to touch only the peripheries and not the Core, in order to reactivate us.

An external habit does not belong to us and will never be ours; it is not assimilated, nor does it become real life. Amnesties do not educate, quite the contrary.

It is true that a little lamb in a world of cunning wolves has no chance of escape. To present it means to see it perish, but not as a designated victim: it was the only way for the beasts who believe themselves to be people to understand that they are still only beasts.

Being considered strong, capable of commanding, excellent, untainted, magnificent, high-performing, extraordinary, glorious... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding. It makes the character we are sitting in, float above reality.

The Risen One introduces a new force into the world, a different dynamism, a way of instructing the soul that becomes a conscious process.

Only by educating us does the Most High-near destroy and overcome the instinct of beasts that devour each other, believing themselves to be true human beings - even spiritual ones.

A third allusion to the figure of the Lamb insists on the votive icon and archetypal category associated with Abraham's sacrifice, where God himself provides the victim (Genesis 22).

Of course he provides: he did not create us angelic, but rather unstable, transitory. Yet every divine Gift passes through our shaky condition - which is not sin, nor fault, but rather a given; nourishment and resource.

We are Perfect in the multiplicity of our creaturely aspects, even in our limitations: blasphemy for the religious man of old... a reality for the man of Faith.

The authentic Lamb is not just a (moral) reference: it is the meekness of those who are called to give everything of themselves, even their skin.

It is an image of the obvious limitation of those who would never be able to make life brilliant, so they allow themselves to be found and carried on the shoulders of others.

In this way, there is no delusional decision-making.

It will be the Friend of our vocational core who will transmit strength and devise the way to return us to the House that is truly ours: the Tent that stitches together scattered events.

A dwelling that reconnects all the being that we should have - and perhaps even could have - brought to fruition.

The different paths that lead to the founding Eros that belongs to us, intimate and superior, are authentic and at the same time unique to each person.

The Perfection that will emerge along the Way already corresponds to us.

Then the desire to improve according to an ancient or other person's paradigm will no longer be a torment that unnerves the soul, attenuating its completeness.

Incarnation here means that the Lamb is the representation of an unusual, accepted totality of the divine Face in men.

A totality that is finally solid – paradoxical, reconciled – which recovers its innocent, natural, spontaneous opposite, incapable of miracles.

The difference between religiosity and Faith.

The Lamb is not an ego that already has its own path; equipped, self-confident and able to find its way in the world. Perhaps to be accepted, to be on a par with others, to always be in the foreground.

It is the passive virtues and weaknesses - not the artificial ones put on display - that activate the best, most fruitful parts of ourselves, enabling us to look within.

All this, in order to journey through ourselves and our brothers and sisters, overcoming our secret sides and anxieties; transmitting life.

Lamb: not wanting to be there at all costs and as protagonists, always at ease, with certainties on display; too exposed to projections, to other desires for protagonism - and not losing positions.

When we put ourselves on display, we remain completely external and shift our faculties, the other capacities of the heart - such as the need to yield, to let things flow in order to prepare for something else that we do not know. And to turn our gaze, discover new directions, or symbiosis with the different.

This is why we speak of a 'revolution of tenderness' [see below] - which cannot be a guided cultural mask or an expropriating conditioning.

In the end, we realise that people are artificial: they act out holiness - some only to gain spiritual superiority over the naive and innocent who are caught up in an authentically interior and fraternal gaze.

The Lamb is an image of stability in goodness, first and foremost received as a gift and perhaps not even invoked, but recognisable - which therefore reveals both the innate silence and the unexpected colours of the soul and of events.

Step by step, it becomes a deep knowledge of ourselves, a figure of orientation and solid dialogue to rely on, activating that singular hope full of intensity that tears us away from infatuations.

We hang on his universal and simple words.

They open our consciousness - overcoming both our demons and the shrill resonances of those who stand beside us to feel important (and govern relationships).

Incorporated into the Lamb, we enter into the right spirit of the inner journey. Then we continue willingly - never alone and orphaned; as Together - in the search for our own unique way of completing ourselves and becoming Food.

The Tao Te Ching (xv) asks:

'Who is capable of being restless in order to gradually clarify by resting? Who is capable of being placid in order to gradually live, removing over time?'.

Master Wang Pi comments:

'The man of supreme virtue is like this: his omens are not scrutinisable, the direction of his virtue is not manifest. If he perfects creatures by remaining obscure, he illuminates them; if he makes creatures rest by being restless, he clarifies them; if he removes creatures by remaining placid, he brings them to life'.

Christ the Lamb is definitely the beneficial therapeutic image of the soul seeking nourishment - and of our energetic destiny, even during normal occupations.

Then they will seem almost like a song, vibrating around us.

To internalise and live the message:

What does the expression 'the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world' mean to you?

Healthy tenderness: selfishness without reduction

The saint is the one who, following his own path in the wake of the Risen One, has learned to 'identify with the other, without paying attention to where [or] where from [...] ultimately experiencing that others are his own flesh' (cf. FT 84).

No plant lives only in the light: it would die. No animal: it would perish - if it did not have its den in the shade.

The man who denies his dark side is lying. And he would never enjoy Joy, the fruit of the Alliance between our multifaceted aspects.

Biblical spirituality is not empty; on the contrary, it is very sober and linked to concrete and multifaceted life, sometimes opposed - not at all inclined to sentimental consolation or unilateral retreats.

In Deuteronomy 6:4-5 [Hebrew text], the love owed to the Lord involves 'all your heart', that is, all your decisions, 'all your life', that is, every moment of your existence, and 'all your very being'. That is, the sharing of goods, which the Son of God understands in a universal sense.

Jesus' proposal evolves decisively towards overcoming barriers, freedom, and awareness.

It tends to recover the entire creaturely being - and is not inclined towards the liturgy of fulfilment, nor towards valuing performances.

The Son of God defines the coordinates of true Love towards the Father in terms that surprise us, because to the ancient criterion he adds questioning oneself in the understanding of the things of man, God and the Church.

Realising, trying to understand, dialoguing to enrich oneself, updating oneself, examining everything... these are not cerebral and individual trappings, but decisive steps towards communion with others and with the Father [Mt 22:37; Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27].

In pagan religions, it made no sense to speak of love for the gods.

They lived a capricious life and decided by lottery who among men should be favoured and who should endure a life of hardship and insignificance.

The fortunate (materially blessed) gave thanks by fulfilling prescriptions, e.g. obligations of worship; the others did the same - at least to keep the heavenly hosts happy and not be the object of retaliation from above.

Fear creates hierarchical pyramids. Love puts everyone on an equal footing.

Obviously, with the burden of many duties to observe (in order to win their favour), it was impossible to have much passion for the inhabitants of Olympus, or demigods, nymphs, heroes - in short, for anyone who towered above them.

The invisible and landless were obviously subject to personal and social contempt - sanctified by the indisputable will of the gods, identified with their destination in the slums; in this case, punitive. In any case, swampy.

[Far from the 'bowels of mercy': a maternal expression, common since the First Testament!].

Then the archaic idea of punishment or blessing (even endless) for merits accumulated in life has formed the fabric of religious mentality throughout the ages.

This was the case until recently, even in the civitas christiana in which we live.

Thus, the 'theology of retribution' has effectively destroyed all personal passion, with the hypocritical idea of exchange. As well as meritocracy projected even to the rank of Paradise - worse than selfishness.

Levelling us all to the point of 'ticking boxes'.

The complex procedures of 'weighing the heart' and 'divine judgement' on the souls of the dead are well known, even in the sarcophagi and the Book of the Dead of ancient Egypt.

Forensic-style concatenations that have humiliated the idea of divine justice, which establishes fair conditions and relationships where they do not exist. But these opinions and procedures have become common to all beliefs in the Mediterranean basin and the ancient Middle East.

Now detached from the invasion of obsessive catechesis about the terrible final judgement populated by acolytes armed with pitchforks, we finally feel understood in a personal way, with an exclusively vocational, non-massified criterion.

By virtue of our creaturely nature, we are souls called and activated to a path that can bear unique fruit - a decisive and non-homogeneous contribution to the entire history of salvation. Each one of us.

In the Vision-proposal of Jesus the Lamb, our being is not omnipotent in good; this does not bring any condemnation, not even to the incapable.

We are shaped by the need to receive love - as if we were children in front of parents who raise their children to be healthy with an abundance of initiatives that lead them to surpass themselves.

This is despite their whims; indeed, because of them: a magma of opposing yet malleable energies that see beyond easy identifications and are preparing for subsequent developments.

The experience of evangelical Tenderness does not come from good character and social meekness. It comes from having experienced first-hand the value of eccentricities - and having developed an understanding of one's own dark sides, or reworked and brought into play deviations that at a certain point in life have become amazing resources.

In fact, we can see the same evolution and transmutation in the aspects of ourselves that we do not like and would like to correct... then, as the days go by, they surprise us, and we discover that they are the best part of ourselves: our true inclination and the reason why we were born.

The deviant and unbalanced character of each person contains an essential secret of the Calling by Name and of one's destiny.

From this we start to recognise the specific weight of the differences and the very dissonances of our sisters and brothers, which are equally enriching.

The Lambs' approach is not one of do-goodism (which fluctuates according to the situation and is linked to artificial ways, subtle interests or partisanship): quite the opposite!

As Pope Francis said: 'Lambs, not stupid; but lambs'.

In personal and communal life, evangelical tenderness is real understanding and authentic inclusion of the 'different' - starting not from an erratic, momentary and (volatile) ideology, but from one's own experience of intimate and relational life.

It will lead us to experience a Father who provides well for us, just as we rejoice in the lives of others - enriching our own! - in the confluence and reharmonisation of our many faces.

All-round tenderness, truly convinced; without the standardised masks of the usual 'fixed points' of banal (recited) 'tenderness', perhaps obligatory and activated by a weakened conformist identity.

This is the wise contagion that will make us reborn from the great global crisis: indulgence that does not become hysterical indolence.

And that does not remain sectorial - because it does not start from manners or external knots, but from being oneself and recognising the You here.

Thus, the Dove, an icon of modest, non-aggressive energy; an example of attachment to one's «own» Nest.

Healthy Tenderness, which starts with self-knowledge.

Lamb and Dove: the peaceful differences - between strong-willed, improper, irritable religiosity, and personal Faith.

Together, brothers all, seeds of the Logos.

For a Tenderness of Dialogue without neurosis.

But why did Jesus, in whom there is no shadow of sin, go to be baptized by John? Why did he perform that gesture of penitence and conversion, beside all those people who in this way were trying to prepare for the coming of the Messiah? That gesture — which marks the start of Christ’s public life — comes in continuity with the Incarnation, the descent of God from the highest heaven into the abyss of hell. The meaning of this movement of divine lowering is expressed in a single word: love, the very name of God. The Apostle John writes: “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him”, and he sent him “to be the expiation for our sins” (1 Jn 4:9-10). That is why the first public act of Jesus was to receive baptism from John, who, seeing him approaching, said: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (Jn 1:29).

Luke the Evangelist recounts that while Jesus, having received baptism, “was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form, as a dove, and a voice came from heaven, ‘Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased’” (3:21-22). This Jesus is the Son of God who is totally immersed in the will of the Father’s love. This Jesus is the One who will die on the cross and rise again through the power of the same Spirit who now descends upon him and consecrates him. This Jesus is the new man who wills to live as the son of God, that is, in love; the man who in the face of the evil of the world, by choosing the path of humility and responsibility he chooses not to save himself but to offer his own life for truth and justice. Being Christian means living like this, but this kind of life involves a rebirth: to be reborn from on high, from God, from Grace. This rebirth is the Baptism, which Christ gives to the Church in order to regenerate men and women to new life. An ancient text attributed to St Hippolytus states: “Whoever goes down into these waters of rebirth with faith renounces the devil and pledges himself to Christ. He repudiates the enemy and confesses that Christ is God, throws off his servitude, and is raised to filial status” Discourse on the Epiphany, 10: PG 10, 862).

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 13 January 2013]

“Heart of Jesus, victim of sins, have mercy on us”.
1. Dear brothers and sisters, this invocation from the Litany of the Sacred Heart reminds us that Jesus, according to the words of the Apostle Paul, “was put to death for our sins” (Rom 4:25); although he had committed no sin, “God treated him as sin on our behalf” (2 Cor 5:21). The immense weight of the sin of the world rested on the Heart of Christ.
In him, the figure of the "Paschal Lamb" was perfectly fulfilled, a victim offered to God so that the firstborn of the Hebrews might be spared by the sign of his blood (cf. Ex 12:21-27). Rightly, therefore, John the Baptist recognised in him the true "Lamb of God" (Jn 1:29): - an innocent lamb, who had taken upon himself the sin of the world to immerse it in the healing waters of the Jordan (cf. Mt 3:3-16 et par.); - a meek lamb, "led like a sheep to the slaughter, as a sheep before its shearers is silent" (Is 53:7), so that his divine silence might confound the proud words of wicked men.
Jesus is a willing victim, because he offered himself "freely to his passion" (Missale Romanum, Prex euchar. II), as a victim of expiation for the sins of men (cf. Lev 1:4; Heb 10:5-10). which he consumed in the fire of his love.
2. Jesus is the eternal victim. Risen from the dead and glorified at the right hand of the Father, he preserves in his immortal body the marks of the wounds in his hands and feet, and his pierced side (cf. Jn 20:27; Lk 24:39-40) and presents them to the Father in his unceasing prayer of intercession on our behalf (cf. Heb 7:25; Rom 8:34).
The wonderful sequence of the Easter Mass, recalling this fact of our faith, exhorts us:
"To the Paschal victim, / let the sacrifice of praise be offered today. / The Lamb has redeemed his flock. / The innocent one has reconciled us sinners with the Father" (Sequentia "Victimae Paschali", str. 1).
And the preface of this solemnity proclaims:
Christ is "the true Lamb who took away the sins of the world; / it is he who, by dying, destroyed death, / and by rising, restored life to us".
3. Brothers and sisters, in this hour of Marian prayer we have contemplated the Heart of Jesus, victim of our sins; but first of all and most deeply of all, his sorrowful Mother contemplated it, of whom the liturgy sings: "For the sins of her people / she saw Jesus in the torments / of the harsh punishment" (Sequentia "Stabat Mater", str 7).
As we approach the liturgical memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Sorrows, we remember this intrepid and intercessory presence of Our Lady beneath the Cross of Calvary, and we think with immense gratitude that, at that moment, the dying Christ, victim of the sins of the world, entrusted her to us as our Mother: "Behold your Mother" (Jn 19:27).
We entrust our prayer to Mary, as we say to her Son Jesus:
Heart of Jesus, victim of our sins, accept our praise, our eternal gratitude, our sincere repentance. Have mercy on us, today and always. Amen.
[Pope John Paul II, Angelus, 10 September 1989]

This second Sunday of Ordinary Time is in continuity with the Epiphany and the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus. The Gospel passage (cf. Jn 1: 29-34) again speaks to us of the manifestation of Jesus. Indeed, after being baptized in the River Jordan, He was consecrated by the Holy Spirit Who came upon Him, and was proclaimed Son of God by the voice of the heavenly Father (cf. Mt 3: 16-17 et seq.). The Evangelist John, unlike the other three, does not describe the event, but proposes to us the witness of John the Baptist. He was the first witness of Christ. God had called him and prepared him for this.

The Baptist cannot hold back the urgent desire to bear witness to Jesus and declares: “I have seen and have borne witness” (v. 34). John saw something shocking, that is, the beloved Son of God in solidarity with sinners; and the Holy Spirit made him understand this unheard-of novelty, a true reversal. In fact, while in all religions it is man who offers and sacrifices something to God, in the event Jesus is God Who offers His Son for the salvation of humanity. John manifests his astonishment and his consent to this newness brought by Jesus, through a meaningful expression that we repeat each time in the Mass: “Behold the Lamb of God, Who takes away the sin of the world!” (v. 29).

The testimony of John the Baptist invites us to start out again and again on our journey of faith: to start afresh from Jesus Christ, the Lamb full of mercy that the Father gave for us. Let us be surprised once again by God’s choice to be on our side, to show solidarity with us sinners, and to save the world from evil by taking it on fully.

Let us learn from John the Baptist not to assume that we already know Jesus, that we already know everything about Him (cf. v. 31). This is not so. Let us pause with the Gospel, perhaps even contemplating an icon of Christ, a “Holy face”. Let us contemplate with our eyes and yet more with our hearts; and let us allow ourselves to be instructed by the Holy Spirit, Who tells us inside: It is He! He is the Son of God made lamb, immolated out of love. He alone has brought, He alone has suffered, He alone has atoned for sin, the sin of each one of us, the sin of the world, and also my sins. All of them. He brought them all upon Himself and took them away from us, so that we would finally be free, no longer slaves to evil. Yes, we are still poor sinners, but not slaves, no, not slaves: children, children of God!

May the Virgin Mary obtain for us the strength to bear witness to her Son Jesus; to proclaim Him with joy with a life freed from evil and a word full of astonished and grateful faith.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 19 January 2020]

Sitting and keeping eyes on the accounting records, only then rich - nay, ‘sir’

(Mk 2:13-17)

At the time when Mk drafted his Gospel, in the communities of Rome a friction arose over the kind of eligible participation in meetings, and on Breaking the Bread.

Opinions conflict that confronted one against the other the group of converts from paganism and the Judaizers.

Mk narrates the episode of Levi [avoiding explicitly calling him Matthew] to accentuate his derivation - and in this way describing how Jesus himself had faced the same conflict: without any ritual or sacred attention, except to man.

The evangelist thus intended to help the faithful to understand the leap from common religiosity to Faith in the Person of Christ, and trust in the brethren, without distinction.

To this end, the Gospel passage emphasizes that the apostles themselves (v.15) had not been called by the Lord at all to the rigourous segregation practice typical of ethnic-purist beliefs.

Mk’s Good News is that life of Communion is neither a gratification, nor a recognition.

The Eucharist is not a reward for merits, nor a discrimination in favor of sacral marginalization.

Prohibition must be replaced by friendship. Intransigence must be supplanted by indulgence, hardness by condescension.

The disciples of the Lord must share existence with anyone - even public sinners like the son of Alpheus.

This without first demanding any license, nor long disciplines of the arcane - or practices that celebrate distances [such as ablutions that preceded the meal].

In the parallel text of Mt 9,9-13 the tax collector is explicitly called by name: Matthew, in order to emphasize the identical appeal to the community.

Matathiah means «man of God», «given by God»; precisely «Gift of God» [Matath-Yah].

According to the direct teaching of Jesus himself - even towards one of the apostles - the only impurity is that of not giving space to those who ask for it because they have none.

The Lord wants to share with transgressors, not because of an ideological banality: it is the invitation to recognize themselves. Not to subject ourselves to some demeaning paternalism, but because allowing ourselves to be transformed from poor or rich into 'lords' is an asset.

«And it happens that He lies [at canteen] in His House and many tax collectors and sinners were lying down with Jesus and his disciples, because they were multitudes and they followed him» (v.15).

«They were lying down at canteen»: according to the way of celebrating solemn banquets by ‘free’ men - now all free.

How wonderful, such a ‘monstrance’! A living Body of Christ that smells of concrete Union, conviviality of differences - not of rejections for transgression!

It is such all empathetic and regal the beautiful awareness that paves the way and makes credible the content of the Announcement (v.17) - although it impacts the susceptibility of the official teachers.

But Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationship, and a New Covenant, of fruitful divergences - even within us.

It is not ‘perfection’ that makes us love the Exodus.

[Saturday 1st wk. in O.T.  January 17, 2026]

But can he participate in the rite?

(Mk 2:13-17)

Jesus does not exclude anyone from his friendship. The good proclamation of the Gospel consists precisely in this: in the offer of God's grace to the sinner! In the figure of Matthew, therefore, the Gospels propose to us a real paradox: the one who is apparently furthest from holiness can even become a model of welcoming God's mercy and allow us to glimpse its wonderful effects in his own existence.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 30 August 2006].

At the time when Mk wrote his Gospel (civil war in the year of the four Caesars) friction arose in the communities of Rome over the kind of permissible participation in meetings, and the Breaking of Bread.

Conflict of opinion pitted the group of converts from paganism and the Judaizing group against each other: the latter did not like habitual contact with those far from their mentality, but rather distinction.

Friction arose both in the assemblies and in the quality of everyday fraternal life. E.g. those from Judaism did not like to enter the homes of pagans - much less did they like to share the table with the (supposedly) defiled.

These church brethren were accustomed to still sacredly consider it profane to have any contiguity with anyone, or even to accept the judged infected.

The devout conception of moral subdivisions led them to believe that it was necessary to keep newcomers at a distance, under the simple suspicion that they had perhaps not adapted to the (as yet undemythologised) identity weight of Semitic traditions.

The evangelist narrates the episode of Levi [avoiding explicitly calling it Matthew] to accentuate its paradoxically cultic and Semitic derivation.

Thus Mk wants to describe how Jesus himself faced the same conflict as above: without any ritual or sacral attention, except to man.

In short, according to the Master, in the journey of Faith, the relationship with the distant and different, and our own hardships or hidden abysses, have something to tell us.

Mk intended to help the Judeo-Christian faithful to understand the leap of Faith in itinere - compared with common religiosity, full of absurd beliefs, separations, squeamish attitudes.

The discriminating opening is hope in life itself, which comes and calls to surrender artificial positions, so here is the possibility of inserting the teaching, the story, the Person of Christ.

He leads to existential reliance, to global trust; to believing the story of the public sinner, who is everyone, to be his own.

To proceed on such a Path one starts from the unexpressed energies of one's own primordial states, recognised, assumed, made personally fruitful and dilated in one's brothers and sisters; without distinction.

To this end, the Gospel passage emphasises that in its time the apostles (v.15) had by no means been called by the Lord to the same rigorous practice of segregation typical of ethno-purist beliefs, which nevertheless prevailed around them.

Therefore, the believers of the late 60s did not have to keep themselves apart: rather, they needed to learn how to break the isolation of the norms of social and cultic conformity.

The Father is Friendly Presence.

The Glad Tidings of that pericope is that the life of fraternity and coexistence is not gratification or recognition.

The Eucharist is therefore not a reward for merit, nor a discriminator in favour of sacred marginalisation - or adult casuistry.

God does not complicate our existence, burdening it with too many obligations and duties that weigh down our days and our whole life; on the contrary, He sweeps them away.

For this reason, the figure of the new Rabbi touched people's hearts, without borders.

In short, for us too, prohibition must be replaced by friendship. Intransigence must be supplanted by indulgence; harshness by condescension.

In such an adventure we are not called to forms of disassociation: we start with ourselves.

Thus one arrives without hysteria at micro-relationships, and without ideological charges, at the current even devout mentality.

No more bogus goals, superficial objectives, obsessions and useless reasoning, nor mechanical habits, ancient or others' [never reworked in themselves].

With such an experience of inner excavation and identification, women and men of Faith must share life with anyone - even with known transgressors like the son of Alphaeus; seeing themselves in them, laying down artifices.

Without first demanding any license, nor long disciplines of the arcane or pious practices that celebrate detachment, such as the ablutions that preceded the meal.

In the parallel text of Matthew 9:9-13, the tax collector is explicitly called by name: Matthew. This is to emphasise the same content - the identical call to community. 

Matathiah in fact means 'man of God', 'given by God'; precisely 'Gift of God' (Matath-Yah) [despite the anger of the official authorities].

According to the direct teaching of Jesus himself - even with regard to one of the apostles - the only impurity the Father does not tolerate is that of not giving space to those who ask for it because they have none.

The Lord wants full communion with transgressors, not because of an ideological banality: it is the invitation to acknowledge, confess, agree, share.

Not to subject his intimates to some form of humiliating paternalism: knowing oneself to be incomplete and allowing oneself to be transformed from poor or rich into 'lords' is a resource.

"And it came to pass that He reclined at Canteen in His House, and many publicans and sinners were reclining with Jesus and His disciples, for they were multitudes and followed Him" (v.15 Greek text).

"They were stretched out [at table]": in keeping with the way solemn banquets were celebrated by 'free' men - now all free.

How wonderful, such a 'monstrance'! A living Body of Christ that smells of concrete union, conviviality of differences - not rejection by transgression!

It is this empathetic and regal beautiful awareness that smoothes out and makes credible the content of the proclamation (v.17) - even though it strikes the susceptibility of the official teachers.

From now on, the division between believers and non-believers will be far more humanising than between "born again" and not, or pure and impure.

A whole other carat - the principle of a saved life that unfolds and overflows beyond the clubs.

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the Levi in us, that is, the more rubric - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character: the rigid one and the - equally our - rubricist one.

By reintegrating opposites, it will even make them flourish: they will become inclusive, indispensable, allied and intimately winning aspects of the future testimony, empowered with genuine love.

Being considered strong, capable of leading, observant, excellent, pristine, magnificent, performing, extraordinary, glorious, unfailing... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding. It floats the character we are sitting in, above reality.

For one's growth and blossoming, more important than always winning is to learn to accept, to surrender to the point of capitulation; to make oneself considered deficient, inadequate.

Says the Tao Tê Ching [XLV]: 'Great uprightness is like sinuousness, great skill is like ineptitude, great eloquence is like stammering'.

The artificial norm (unfortunately, sometimes also the unwise leadership) makes one live according to success and external glory, obtained through compartmentalisation.

Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationship, and 'covenants' of fruitful divergence - a New Covenant, even within ourselves.

Here, the Word alone 'Follow Me' (v.14) [not 'others'] creates everything.

The Master's Wisdom and the multifaceted art of Nature [exemplified in the crystalline wisdom of the Tao] lead all to be incisive and human.

It is not 'perfection' that makes us love Exodus.

To internalise and live the message:

What is your spiritual and human strength? How was it generated?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Continuing the series of portraits of the Twelve Apostles that we began a few weeks ago, let us reflect today on Matthew. To tell the truth, it is almost impossible to paint a complete picture of him because the information we have of him is scarce and fragmentary. What we can do, however, is to outline not so much his biography as, rather, the profile of him that the Gospel conveys.

In the meantime, he always appears in the lists of the Twelve chosen by Jesus (cf. Mt 10: 3; Mk 3: 18; Lk 6: 15; Acts 1: 13).

His name in Hebrew means "gift of God". The first canonical Gospel, which goes under his name, presents him to us in the list of the Twelve, labelled very precisely: "the tax collector" (Mt 10: 3).

Thus, Matthew is identified with the man sitting at the tax office whom Jesus calls to follow him: "As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax office; and he said to him, "Follow me'. And he rose and followed him" (Mt 9: 9). Mark (cf. 2: 13-17) and Luke (cf. 5: 27-30), also tell of the calling of the man sitting at the tax office, but they call him "Levi".

To imagine the scene described in Mt 9: 9, it suffices to recall Caravaggio's magnificent canvas, kept here in Rome at the Church of St Louis of the French.

A further biographical detail emerges from the Gospels: in the passage that immediately precedes the account of the call, a miracle that Jesus worked at Capernaum is mentioned (cf. Mt 9: 1-8; Mk 2: 1-12) and the proximity to the Sea of Galilee, that is, the Lake of Tiberias (cf. Mk 2: 13-14).

It is possible to deduce from this that Matthew exercised the function of tax collector at Capernaum, which was exactly located "by the sea" (Mt 4: 13), where Jesus was a permanent guest at Peter's house.

On the basis of these simple observations that result from the Gospel, we can advance a pair of thoughts.

The first is that Jesus welcomes into the group of his close friends a man who, according to the concepts in vogue in Israel at that time, was regarded as a public sinner.

Matthew, in fact, not only handled money deemed impure because of its provenance from people foreign to the People of God, but he also collaborated with an alien and despicably greedy authority whose tributes moreover, could be arbitrarily determined.

This is why the Gospels several times link "tax collectors and sinners" (Mt 9: 10; Lk 15: 1), as well as "tax collectors and prostitutes" (Mt 21: 31).

Furthermore, they see publicans as an example of miserliness (cf. Mt 5: 46: they only like those who like them), and mention one of them, Zacchaeus, as "a chief tax collector, and rich" (Lk 19: 2), whereas popular opinion associated them with "extortioners, the unjust, adulterers" (Lk 18: 11).

A first fact strikes one based on these references: Jesus does not exclude anyone from his friendship. Indeed, precisely while he is at table in the home of Matthew-Levi, in response to those who expressed shock at the fact that he associated with people who had so little to recommend them, he made the important statement: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I came not to call the righteous, but sinners" (Mk 2: 17).

The good news of the Gospel consists precisely in this: offering God's grace to the sinner!

Elsewhere, with the famous words of the Pharisee and the publican who went up to the Temple to pray, Jesus actually indicates an anonymous tax collector as an appreciated example of humble trust in divine mercy: while the Pharisee is boasting of his own moral perfection, the "tax collector... would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!'".

And Jesus comments: "I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted" (Lk 18: 13-14).

Thus, in the figure of Matthew, the Gospels present to us a true and proper paradox: those who seem to be the farthest from holiness can even become a model of the acceptance of God's mercy and offer a glimpse of its marvellous effects in their own lives.

St John Chrysostom makes an important point in this regard: he notes that only in the account of certain calls is the work of those concerned mentioned. Peter, Andrew, James and John are called while they are fishing, while Matthew, while he is collecting tithes.

These are unimportant jobs, Chrysostom comments, "because there is nothing more despicable than the tax collector, and nothing more common than fishing" (In Matth. Hom.: PL 57, 363). Jesus' call, therefore, also reaches people of a low social class while they go about their ordinary work.

Another reflection prompted by the Gospel narrative is that Matthew responds instantly to Jesus' call: "he rose and followed him". The brevity of the sentence clearly highlights Matthew's readiness in responding to the call. For him it meant leaving everything, especially what guaranteed him a reliable source of income, even if it was often unfair and dishonourable. Evidently, Matthew understood that familiarity with Jesus did not permit him to pursue activities of which God disapproved.

The application to the present day is easy to see: it is not permissible today either to be attached to things that are incompatible with the following of Jesus, as is the case with riches dishonestly achieved.

Jesus once said, mincing no words: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me" (Mt 19: 21).

This is exactly what Matthew did: he rose and followed him! In this "he rose", it is legitimate to read detachment from a sinful situation and at the same time, a conscious attachment to a new, upright life in communion with Jesus.

Lastly, let us remember that the tradition of the ancient Church agrees in attributing to Matthew the paternity of the First Gospel. This had already begun with Bishop Papias of Hierapolis in Frisia, in about the year 130.

He writes: "Matthew set down the words (of the Lord) in the Hebrew tongue and everyone interpreted them as best he could" (in Eusebius of Cesarea, Hist. Eccl. III, 39, 16).

Eusebius, the historian, adds this piece of information: "When Matthew, who had first preached among the Jews, decided also to reach out to other peoples, he wrote down the Gospel he preached in his mother tongue; thus, he sought to put in writing, for those whom he was leaving, what they would be losing with his departure" (ibid., III, 24, 6).

The Gospel of Matthew written in Hebrew or Aramaic is no longer extant, but in the Greek Gospel that we possess we still continue to hear, in a certain way, the persuasive voice of the publican Matthew, who, having become an Apostle, continues to proclaim God's saving mercy to us. And let us listen to St Matthew's message, meditating upon it ever anew also to learn to stand up and follow Jesus with determination.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 30 August 2006]