5th Sunday in Lent (year C) [6 April 2025]

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Tomorrow, Wednesday 2 April, will be the 20th anniversary of the death of St John Paul II. We remember him in prayer, invoking his protection and intercession.

*First Reading From the book of the prophet Isaiah (43:16-21)

At first glance, this text consists of two mutually contradictory parts: the first is a reference to the past, to leaving Egypt, while in the second, the prophet exhorts us to leave the past behind. But which past is it? Let us try to better understand by examining these two parts one after the other. The incipit is as always solemn: "Thus says the Lord" to introduce words of great importance which are immediately followed by the reference to the famous passage in the sea, the miracle of the Sea of Rushes during the Hebrews' flight from Egypt: "The Lord opened a way in the sea and a path in the midst of mighty waters". The reference to the memorable night of the deliverance from Egypt narrated in chapter 14 of the book of Exodus always returns. In the first reading, Isaiah offers further details: "the Lord brought forth chariots and horses, army and heroes at once, and they all lay dead and never rose again, they went out like a lamp. God saved his people by destroying the Egyptians and it is interesting to note that Isaiah uses the name 'Lord' (the Tetragrammaton YHVH), a name that qualifies the God of Sinai as the deliverer of his people. Here is God's work in the past that constitutes the source of hope for Israel's future, and Isaiah points out: 'Behold, I do a new thing'. To understand what this is all about and to whom the prophet foretells a new world, we need to go back to the historical context. The deuteroIsaiah, whom we are reading here, lived in the 6th century BC, during the exile in Babylon (from 587 to 538 BC), a period marked by a terrible trial: deported to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, who had defeated the small kingdom of Judah of which Jerusalem was the capital, the Jews hoped one day to escape from Babylon, but there were serious difficulties because they had to cross the Syrian desert, hundreds of kilometres long and in terrible conditions for fugitives. The prophet therefore has the difficult task of restoring courage to his contemporaries: he does so in this book called the Book of the Consolation of Israel, because chapter 40 begins: 'Console, console my people, says your God'. And when he says: 'your God' he recalls the Covenant that was never broken because God did not abandon them. In fact, one of the formulas of the Covenant was: 'You shall be my people and I will be your God' and whenever the expression my God or your God is echoed, the possessive is an encouraging reminder of the Covenant and, at the same time, a profession of faith. Isaiah intends to keep the exiles' hope alive by reminding them that God has not only not abandoned them, on the contrary, he is already preparing their return to their homeland. Nothing can be seen yet, but it will happen and why is it certain? Because God is faithful to his Covenant and since he chose this people he has never ceased to deliver them and keep them alive, through all the vicissitudes of their history. He has freed them from Pharaoh; he has protected them all along the way; he made them pass through the sea dry when they came out of Egypt.Israel's hope thus rests on its past: this is the meaning of the word 'memorial', constant remembrance of God's work that continues today, and from this we derive the certainty that it will continue into the future. Past, present, future: God is always present alongside his people. This is one of the meanings of God's name: 'I am', that is, I am with you in all circumstances. And precisely during the difficult period of exile, when there was the risk of giving in to despair, Isaiah develops a new metaphor, that of the sprout: "Behold, I am doing a new thing: right now I am sprouting, do you not notice?" Starting from the extraordinary experience of a tiny seed capable of becoming a great tree, it is easy to understand how the word "sprout" has become in Israel and today for us a symbol of hope, and it is important to learn to recognise the sprouts of the new world, the Kingdom that God is building.

*Responsorial Psalm [125 (126)]

 This psalm echoes the first reading, where the prophet Isaiah announces the return of the people exiled in Babylon and sings of this miracle just as the Jews had sung of the prodigy of the exit from Egypt. These are the events: in 587 BC. Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, had conquered Jerusalem and deported the population, but, in turn, was defeated by Cyrus, king of Persia well known for his successes. Nebuchadnezzar's troops pillaged, plundered, raped, massacred and devastated, systematically deporting the population. Cyrus, on the other hand, adopted a completely different policy: he preferred to rule over prosperous peoples and allowed all deported populations to return to their homelands by providing the means to do so. And so, having conquered Babylon in 539 B.C., he allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem as early as 538 B.C., also granting them economic aid and even returning the objects looted from the Temple by Nebuchadnezzar's soldiers.

The psalm does not say 'when the king of Persia Cyrus restored the lot of Zion' but 'when the Lord restored the lot of Zion', a way of affirming that God remains the Lord of history who pulls all the strings and therefore there is no other god - again a nod to the fight against idolatry. This psalm, probably written long after the return from exile, evokes the joy and excitement of liberation and return. How many times during exile did one dream of this moment! When it was realised, one almost dared not believe it: 'When the Lord restored the lot of Zion, it seemed to us as if we were dreaming ... our mouths were filled with a smile, our tongues with joy'.  One even imagines that the other peoples are also amazed by this miracle: "Then it was said among the nations: 'The Lord has done great things for them'. In this sentence, two elements emerge: an infinite gratitude for the gratuitousness of God's choice and the chosen people's awareness of having been chosen for the world: their vocation is to be witnesses of God's work, an awareness matured precisely during exile. In the psalm, astonishment at God's choice is expressed with the words: 'great things', that is, God's work of deliverance, particularly the liberation from Egypt. Words like feat, work, great things, wonders, which are often found in the psalms, are always a reference to the Exodus. Here, a new work of God's deliverance is added: the end of the exile experienced by the people as a true resurrection. To express this, the psalmist uses two images: The streams in the desert: "Restore, Lord, our lot, like the streams in the Negheb", desert south of Jerusalem, where myriads of flowers bloom in spring. The other image is the seed: 'he who sows in tears, will reap in joy'. the sown grain seems to rot and die... but when the ears sprout, it is like a rebirth, an eloquent image because the return of the exiles meant a true rebirth for the land as well. A final observation: when the return from the Babylonian exile is sung in this psalm, it had already taken place a long time ago, but Israel does not speak of the past just to recount it, but to communicate a message and a teaching for the future: this return to life, historically placed, becomes a reason to hope for other future resurrections and deliverances. Every year, during the Feast of Tents in the autumn, this song was sung during the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. As the pilgrims ascend, they sing of the deliverance that has already taken place and pray to God to hasten the day of final deliverance, when the promised Messiah will appear. Even today, there are many places of slavery, many 'Egypt' and 'Babylon'. This is what we think of when we sing: "Restore, Lord, our lot like the streams in the Negheb", asking for the grace to collaborate with all our strength in the work of liberation inaugurated by the Messiah, in order to hasten the day when the whole of humanity can sing: "Great things the Lord has done for us".

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul the Apostle to the Philippians (3:8-14)

 St Paul uses the image of running, and we know how important the goal and the desire to reach it is for every person. Here the Apostle speaks of himself: "I know only this: forgetting what lies behind me and reaching out to what lies ahead, I run towards the goal, to the prize that God calls us to receive up there in Christ Jesus. To run towards this same goal and obtain the promised prize, one must turn one's back on many things, as St Paul did when he felt conquered by Christ. The Greek verb he uses (katalambano) means to grasp, to seize, to take by force, and expresses the way in which he was completely transformed from a persecutor of Christians into an apostle of the gospel (Acts.9) when Christ literally took possession of him on the road to Damascus. St Paul presents his Christian faith as a natural continuation of his Jewish faith because Christ fully realises the expectations of the Old Testament by ensuring its continuity with the New Testament. Here, however, he insists on the newness that Jesus Christ brings: 'I consider everything to be a loss because of the sublimity of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord. The knowledge of Christ brings radical newness because one truly becomes a 'new creature', as he writes in his second letter to the Corinthians, which we read last Sunday (2 Cor 5:17-21). Now he says it in another way: "For him I have given up all these things and consider them rubbish in order to gain Christ and be found in him". In other words: what previously appeared important in my eyes, that is, an advantage and a privilege, I now reject altogether. The advantages of which he speaks were the pride of belonging to the people of Israel, the faith and unshakeable hope of that people, the assiduous and scrupulous practice of all the commandments that he calls obedience to the law of Moses. But now Jesus Christ has taken all the space in his life and he possesses the greatest good, the only true wealth in the world, the true treasure of human existence: to know Christ. Knowing in biblical language does not mean intellectual knowledge but living in intimacy with someone, loving him and sharing his life. Paul insists on this bond with Christ because in the community of Philippi some Christians of Jewish origin wanted to impose circumcision on all Christians before baptism and this created great division as we read in the second reading of the second Sunday of Lent. This issue was resolved by the Apostles at the First Council in Jerusalem by affirming that in the New Covenant, the Law of Moses has been superseded and baptism in the name of Jesus makes us children of God so circumcision is no longer indispensable to be part of the people of the New Covenant. Paul also speaks here of "communion" with Christ's sufferings, of being conformed to his death in the hope of attaining the resurrection from the dead, grafted into him in order to follow his same path: "communion with his sufferings, making me conform to his death". 

Note: St Paul invites us to live like Christ and to accept all the risks of proclaiming the Gospel, but can we say, like him, that the only good for us is the knowledge of Christ and everything else is but rubbish? The word rubbish that is used here translates the Greek word skubala, which has a very strong meaning that can be translated in several ways: as waste, refuse, dry excrement and filth, rotten and spoiled food residue. In short, a total rejection of everything, when one knows Christ and is possessed by him.

*From the Gospel according to John (8:1-11)

We are already in the context of the Passion and the first line mentions the Mount of Olives. Since the evangelists only mention it in the last days of Jesus' public life and the Pharisees want to set a trap for him here, this makes it clear that it has now been decided to try and condemn him. That is why every detail of this text must be carefully examined because it is not a simple episode in Jesus' life, but the very heart of his mission.  At the beginning Jesus is seated as a teacher: "all the people came to him and he sat down and began to teach them". However, the question of the scribes and Pharisees immediately puts him in the position of judge and Jesus is the only seated person. This detail helps us to understand that the theme of judgement, in St John, is central: the episode of the adulterous woman implements what he writes at the beginning of his gospel: "God sent the Son into the world, not to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him" (John 3:17). We are faced with a mock trial because the issue is clear: the adulterous woman was caught in the act and there are witnesses; the Law of Moses condemns adultery as one of the commandments given by God on Sinai (Thou shalt not commit adultery, Ex 20:14; Deut 5:18); Leviticus prescribes the death penalty: "If anyone commits adultery with his neighbour's wife, the adulterer and the adulteress shall be put to death" (Lev 20:10). The scribes and Pharisees, who question Jesus, are as always very attached to the Law of Moses, but they forget to add that the Law provides for the condemnation of both offenders, the man and the adulterous woman. The fact that despite knowing this, no one remembers it, shows that the real issue is not the observance of the Law, but something else, and the text says it clearly: "They said this to test him and to have reason to accuse him". It is therefore a trap-question and what do they want to accuse Jesus of? Jesus cannot approve of the stoning because it would contradict the whole preaching on mercy; if, however, he publicly defends the woman, he can be accused of inciting the people to disobey the Law. In John's Gospel (chapter 5), we have already seen him tell the healed paralytic to take his bed, an act forbidden on the Sabbath. They failed to condemn him that day, but this time the disobedience would be public. After all, despite the apparent respect with which they call him 'Master', Jesus is in as much danger as the adulterous woman: both risk death. Jesus does not immediately respond: "He stooped down and began to write with his finger on the ground". With his silence, a constructive silence, he invites each one to reflect without humiliating anyone, and he, the incarnation of mercy, does not put the scribes and Pharisees or the adulterous woman in difficulty: he wants each one to take a step forward by trying to reveal to the Pharisees and scribes the true face of the God of mercy. When he responds, he does so almost by posing a question: 'Let him who is without sin among you cast the stone at her first'. At this point they all leave, "one by one, beginning with the elders". Nothing surprising: the elders appear to be the ones most ready to listen to the call to mercy. Who knows how many times they have experienced God's mercy on them... How many times they have read, sung, meditated on the verse: "God of tenderness and mercy, slow to anger and abounding in love" (Ex 34:6). How many times have they recited Psalm 50(51): "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your mercy, in your great goodness blot out my sin". Now they can understand that their lack of mercy is a fault, a lack of faithfulness to the God of the Covenant. Jesus' statement may have led them to this reflection: 'Let him who is without sin among you cast the stone first'. Being the first to throw the stone was an expression known to all in the context of the fight against idolatry. The Law did not say that it had to be the witness of adultery who threw the first stone; but it did say so expressly for the case of idolatry (Deut 13:9-10; Deut 17:7). Thus Jesus' reply can be interpreted as: "This woman is guilty of adultery, in the literal sense of the word, it is true; but are you not committing an even more serious adultery, an unfaithfulness to the God of the Covenant? The prophets often speak of idolatry in terms of adultery.  In the end, only Jesus and the woman remain: it is the face-to-face, as St Augustine says, between misery and mercy. For her, the Word once again fulfils his mission, speaking the word of reconciliation. Isaiah, speaking of the servant of God, had announced it: 'He will not break a cracked reed, he will not quench a smouldering wick...' (Is 42:3). But this is not goodism because Jesus clearly tells the woman to sin no more, sin remains condemned, but only forgiveness can enable the sinner to be reborn to hope.

Note: What does Jesus write on the ground? The evangelist does not specify, and this has given rise to various interpretations: Some Church Fathers, such as St Augustine, speculate that Jesus was writing down the hidden sins of those who accused the woman. This is why, one by one, they go away; It refers to the Mosaic Law: according to a rabbinic interpretation, it could refer to Jeremiah 17:13: "Those who turn away from you will be written in the dust, because they have forsaken the Lord, the source of living water." If so, Jesus would be indicating that the accusers themselves are guilty of unfaithfulness to God. It could be a symbolic act of detachment; writing in the dust could symbolise that the accusations against the woman are ephemeral, destined to fade away; it could indicate a call to patience and reflection; finally, it could be a way of not responding immediately, prompting the accusers to reflect on their hypocrisy.

Jesus' gesture invites us to shift our attention not to the guilt of others, but to our own conscience. No one can condemn another without first examining himself. This episode teaches us that God's mercy exceeds human condemnation, and that forgiveness is always possible when there is a heart willing to change. 

The first reading and this Sunday's Gospel have the same message: forget the past, don't get attached to it... nothing, not even memories, should stop you from moving on. In the first reading, Isaiah speaks to the people in exile... in the Gospel, Jesus speaks to a woman caught in the act of adultery: apparently, two very different cases, but the message is the same: turn your gaze firmly towards the future, no longer think about the past.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Today, 25 March, we are in the heart of the Jubilee contemplating the mystery of the Annunciation and Incarnation of the Word. It used to be a predominantly Marian feast, as it still appears in many popular religious traditions. With the liturgical reform, it was highlighted as an important Christological solemnity that immerses us in the heart of the Incarnation of the eternal Word: God becoming man for our salvation. The presence of Mary - The Annunciation - as the one who with her 'yes' made the mystery of our salvation possible, the miracle of the Incarnation, always remains strong; and she invites each one of us to unite our 'yes' to hers, aware that only in humility is the human heart capable of responding to God's call.

IV Sunday in Lent (year C) [30 March 2025] 

*First Reading From the book of Joshua (5, 9a 10- 12)

Moses did not enter the promised land because he died on Mount Nebo, at the Dead Sea, on the side that today corresponds to the Jordanian shore. It was therefore not he who introduced the people of Israel into Palestine, but his servant and successor Joshua. The whole book of Joshua recounts the entry of the people into the promised land, starting with the crossing of the Jordan since the tribes of Israel entered Palestine from the east. The aim of the writer of this book is quite clear: if the author recalls God's work for Israel, it is to exhort the people to faithfulness. Within the few lines of today's text lies a real sermon that is divided into two teachings: firstly, we must never forget that God has delivered the people from Egypt; and secondly, if he has delivered them, it is to give them this land as he promised our fathers. We receive everything from God, but when we forget this, we put ourselves in dead-end situations. This is why the text draws continuous parallels between leaving Egypt, life in the desert and entering Canaan. For example, in chapter 3 of the book of Joshua, the crossing of the Jordan is solemnly recounted as a repetition of the Red Sea miracle. In this Sunday's text, the author insists on the Passover: "they celebrated the Passover, on the fourteenth day of the month, in the evening". Just as the celebration of the Passover had marked the exit from Egypt and the Red Sea miracle, the Passover now follows the entry into the promised land and the Jordan miracle. These are intentional parallels by which the author wants to say that, from the beginning to the end of this incredible adventure, it is the same God who acts to free his people, in view of the promised land. The book of Joshua comes immediately after Deuteronomy. "Joshua" is not his name, but the nickname given to him by Moses: at first, he was simply called "Hoshéa", "Hosea" meaning "He saves" and the new name, "Joshua" ("Yeoshoua") contains the name of God to indicate more explicitly that only God saves. Joshua after all understood that he alone cannot deliver his people. The second part of today's text is surprising because on the surface it speaks only of food, but there is much more: "On the day after the Passover, they ate the produce of that land: unleavened and toasted wheat. And from the next day, as they had eaten, the manna ceased. The Israelites had no more manna: that year they ate the fruits of the land of Canaan." This change of food suggests a weaning: a new page is turned, a new life begins and the desert period with its difficulties, recriminations and even miraculous solutions ends. Now Israel, having arrived in the God-given land, will no longer be nomads, but a sedentary people of farmers feeding on the products of the soil; an adult people responsible for its own subsistence. Having the means to provide for themselves, God does not replace them because he has great respect for their freedom. However, this people will not forget the manna and will retain the lesson: just as the Lord provided in the desert, so Israel must become solicitous towards those who for various reasons are in need. It is clearly stated in the Book of Deuteronomy: God has taught us to feed the poor by sending down bread from heaven for the children of Israel, and now it is up to us to do the same (cf. Deut.34:6). Finally, the crossing of the Jordan and the entry into the promised land, the land of freedom, helps us to better understand Jesus' baptism in the Jordan, which will become the sign of the new entry into the true land of freedom. 

*Responsorial Psalm (33 (34) 2-3, 4-5, 6-7)

In this psalm, as in others, each verse is constructed in two lines in dialogue and ideally it should be sung in two alternating choruses, line by line. It is composed of 22 verses corresponding to the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, in poetry called an acrostic: each letter of the alphabet is placed vertically in front of each verse, beginning with the corresponding letter in the margin. This procedure, quite frequent in psalms, indicates that we are dealing with a psalm of thanksgiving for the covenant. We could say that it is a response to the first reading from the book of Joshua, where although it tells a story, there is actually an invitation to give thanks for all that God has accomplished for Israel.  The language of thanksgiving is omnipresent, as is evident in the first verses: 'I will bless the Lord at all times ... on my lips always his praise ... magnify the Lord with me ... let us exalt his name together'. The speaker is Israel, witness to the work of God: a God who responds, frees, listens, saves: "I sought the Lord: he answered me; from all fear he delivered me... this poor man cries out and the Lord listens to him: he saves him from all his anguish."  This attention of God emerges in the passage from chapter 3 of Exodus, which was the first reading of last Sunday, the third of Lent i.e. the episode of the burning bush: "I have seen the misery of my people... their cry has reached me... I know their sufferings." Israel is the poor liberated by God's mercy, as we read in this psalm, and has discovered its twofold mission: firstly, to teach all the humble about faith, understood as a dialogue between God and man who cries out his distress and God hears him, liberates him and comes to his aid; secondly, to be willing to collaborate with God's work. Just as Moses and Joshua were God's instruments to deliver his people and bring them into the promised land, so Israel will be the attentive ear to the poor and the instrument of God's concern for them: 'let the poor hear and rejoice'. Israel must echo down the centuries this cry, which is an interwoven polyphony of suffering, praise and hope to alleviate all forms of poverty. It is necessary, however, to be poor in heart with the realism of recognising ourselves as small and to invoke God for help in the certainty that he accompanies us in every circumstance to help us face life's obstacles. 

*Second Reading from the Second Epistle of St Paul to the Corinthians (5:17-21)

This text can be understood in two ways and everything revolves around the central phrase: "not imputing (God) to men their faults" (v.19) which can have two meanings. The first: since the beginning of the world, God has kept count of men's sins, but, in his great mercy, he agreed to wipe them out through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and this is what is known as 'substitution', i.e. Jesus took on in our place a debt too great for us. Secondly, God has never counted the sins of men, and Christ came into the world to show us that God has always been love and forgiveness, as we read in Psalm 102 (103): "God turns away our sins from us". The whole path of biblical revelation moves us from the first hypothesis to the second, and in order to understand it better, we need to answer these three questions: Does God keep count of our sins? Can we speak of 'substitution' in the death of Christ? If God does not reckon with us and if we cannot speak of 'substitution', how should we interpret this text of Paul?

First: Does God keep count of our sins? At the beginning of the covenant history, Israel was certainly convinced of this and it is clear why. Man cannot discover God unless God himself reveals himself to him. To Abraham God does not speak of sin, but of covenant, of promise, of blessing, of descent, and never does the word 'merit' appear. "Abraham had faith in the Lord and it was credited to him as righteousness" (Gen 15:6), so faith is the only thing that counts. God does not keep track of our actions, which does not mean that we can do anything, because we are responsible for building the Kingdom. To Moses, the Lord reveals himself as merciful and forgiving, slow to anger and rich in love (cf. Ex 34:6). David, precisely on the occasion of his sin, understands that God's forgiveness precedes even our repentance and Isaiah observes that God surprises us because His thoughts are not our thoughts: He is only forgiveness for sinners (cf. Is 55:6-8). In the Old Testament, the chosen people already knew that God is tenderness and forgiveness and called him Father long before we did. The parable of Jonah, for example, was written precisely to show that God cares even for the Ninevites, Israel's historical enemies.

Second: Can one speak of 'substitution' in the death of Christ? If God does not keep count of sins and therefore we do not have a debt to pay, there is no need for Jesus to replace us. Moreover, the New Testament texts speak of solidarity, never substitution, and Jesus does not act in our place, nor is he our representative. He is the 'firstborn' as Paul says, who opens the way and walks before us. Mixed in with sinners he asked for Baptism from John and on the cross he accepted to give his life for us. He drew near to us so that we could draw near to Him.

Thirdly: How then is this text of Paul's to be interpreted? First of all, God has never kept count of the sins of men, and Christ came into the world to make us understand this. When he says to Pilate: "I have come into the world to bear witness to the truth" (Jn 18:37), he affirms that his mission is to reveal the face of God who is always love and forgiveness. And when Paul writes: "...not imputing (God) to men their faults" he means to make it clear that God erases our false ideas about Him, those that portray Him as an accountant.  Jesus came to show the face of God Love, but was rejected and therefore accepted to die. He had become too inconvenient for the religious authorities of the time, who thought they knew better than he did who God was, and so he died on the cross because of human pride that had turned into implacable hatred. To Philip in the Upper Room he said: "He who has seen me has seen the Father" (Jn 14:9) and even in the midst of humiliation and hatred he only uttered words of forgiveness. We understand at this point the sentence with which this passage closes: "He who knew no sin, God made him sin for our sake, that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (v. 21). On the face of Christ crucified, we contemplate to what extent the horror of our sin reaches us, but also to what extent God's forgiveness reaches us, and from this contemplation our conversion can be born: "They shall look upon him whom they have pierced", a text from the prophet Zechariah (12:10), which we find in the Fourth Gospel (Jn 19:37). Hence our vocation as ambassadors of God's love: "We beseech you in the name of Christ: be reconciled to God" (v.20).

*From the Gospel according to Luke (15:1-3. 11-32)

The interpretive key to this text is found in the very first words. St Luke writes that "all publicans and sinners came to Jesus to listen to him" while "the Pharisees and scribes murmured, saying, 'He welcomes sinners and eats with them'. The former are public sinners to be avoided, while the latter are honest people who seek to do what pleases God. In truth, the Pharisees were generally upright, pious people and faithful to the Law of Moses, shocked however by the behaviour of Jesus who does not seem to understand who he is dealing with if he even eats and mingles with sinners. God is the Holy One and for them there was a total incompatibility between God and sinners and therefore Jesus, if he was truly from God, had to avoid associating with them. This parable is intended to help one discover the true face of God who is Father. In fact, the main character in this story is God himself, the father who has two kinds of sons, both with at least one point in common, namely the way they conceive of their relationship with their father in terms of merits and accounts, even though they behave differently: the younger offends him gravely, unlike the elder, and in the end, however, acknowledges his sin: "I am no longer worthy to be called your son"; the elder, on the other hand, boasts of having always obeyed but complains that he has never even received a kid as he deserves. The Father is out of these calculations and does not want to hear about merits because he loves his children and in this relationship there is no room for calculating accounts. To the prodigal son, who had demanded 'my share of the inheritance that is due to me', he had gone far beyond the demand, as he will eventually say to both of them: all that is mine is yours. To the prodigal son who returns he does not even leave time to express any repentance, he does not demand an explanation; on the contrary, he wants to celebrate immediately, because 'this son of mine was dead and has come back to life; he was lost and has been found'. The lesson is clear: with God it is not a matter of calculations, merits, even if we struggle to eradicate this mentality, and the whole Bible, from the Old Testament onwards, shows the slow and patient pedagogy with which God seeks to make himself known as Father, ready to celebrate every time we return to him.

Two small comments to conclude:

1. In the first reading, taken from the book of Joshua, Israel is nourished by manna during the desert crossing, while here there is no manna for the son who refuses to live with his father and finds himself in an existential desert, because he has cut himself off. 

2. Concerning the connection with the parable of the lost sheep, which is also found in this chapter of Luke, it is observed that the shepherd goes to look for the lost sheep and brings it back by putting it on his shoulders, while the father does not prevent the son from leaving and does not force him to return because he respects his freedom to the full.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

(Jn 5:17-30)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Impossible to confuse the scope of incessant life with observances.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Wednesday 4th wk. in Lent, April 2nd, 2025]

(Jn 5:17-30)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To internalise and live the message:

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

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

You make yourself God

(Jn 10:31-42)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

From Son of David to Son of Man

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

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

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

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

[Spe salvi]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pope Francis, General Audience 22 November 2017]

(Jn 5:1-3.5-16)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vain expectations attracted the imagination of the sick who didn’t know the man-God of their destiny.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We enter the heart of Lent.

[Tuesday 4th wk. in Lent, April 1st, 2025]

(Jn 5:1-3.5-16)

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

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

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

[Pope Francis, Angelus 9 September 2018].

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Abundant conduct purified the Temple and neglected the people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No joy from the authorities - only enquiries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let us enter the heart of Lent.

To internalise and live the message:

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

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

Specialists in closure. Psychology of doctors of the law

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Different opinion].

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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