26th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [27 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (18:25–28)

To understand Ezekiel’s prophecy, we must recall the dramatic context in which he speaks. In 597 BC, many inhabitants of Jerusalem were deported to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar’s army. Jerusalem had been devastated, the Temple desecrated, and the population decimated. The exiles found themselves far from the Promised Land and from everything that had given meaning to their lives. Faced with such a tragedy, the question arose spontaneously: ‘What have we done to God to deserve all this?’. At that time, it was widely believed that there was a direct correlation between a person’s behaviour and what happened to them: the righteous are rewarded and the sinner punished. For this reason, the exiles repeated a proverb: ‘The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge’ (Ezekiel 18:2). In other words: we are paying for the sins of our fathers and of previous generations.

Ezekiel breaks with this mindset. God says through the prophet: ‘You shall no longer repeat this proverb in Israel.’ No one is condemned to live under the burden of others’ sins. Every person is called to answer for their own choices. And here a great new truth emerges: the past does not definitively determine the future. If the wicked turn away from their ways, practise righteousness and justice, repent and return to God, they may live. ‘If the wicked turn away from all the sins they have committed, […] they shall live’ (cf. Ezekiel 18:21). It is an extraordinarily relevant message: no one is a prisoner of their own past, but it is always possible to start afresh, and this frees people from the belief that they are condemned to pay for the sins of others and restores to them the possibility of hope. No past is so burdensome as to prevent a fresh start. Even in times of trial, God opens up a new path before us. Hope springs precisely from the certainty that God’s mercy always leaves open the possibility of a fresh start.  Conversion, from a biblical perspective, is precisely a change of direction, a ‘returning’ to God. Ezekiel also reminds us that true conversion does not consist merely of words or religious practices: it is manifested concretely in the practice of law and justice, that is, in the way we treat others.

Responsorial Psalm (24/25) 

The words ‘way’, ‘road’, ‘path’ and the verb ‘guide me’ recur several times in the Psalm: ‘Lord, make me know your ways; teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and instruct me, for you are the God of my salvation… The Lord shows sinners the way; he guides the poor in righteousness and teaches the humble his way’. The theme of the journey is characteristic of penitential psalms. God’s Law—that is, his commandments—is like a sort of ‘highway code’. The speaker is a sinner who recognises that he has gone astray, that he has taken the wrong path, and asks God to bring him back onto the right path. It is no coincidence that, in the Bible, to ‘convert’ literally means ‘to turn back’, ‘to turn round’. And it is never too late to turn back. In the first reading, Ezekiel reminded us that a future is always possible: no one is definitively condemned by their past. That is why we can still pray: ‘Lord, teach me your ways’. What is asked of us? First and foremost, not perfection, but humility: ‘The Lord teaches the humble his way’. The Hebrew word anawim, translated as ‘the humble’ or ‘the poor’, refers to those who recognise that they are poor, fragile, without resources and in need of God. They are the ‘poor in spirit’, those who are able to pray simply: ‘Lord, have mercy on me’. Their plea is already a call for conversion: ‘Lord, teach me your way’. And the ‘I’ speaking in the Psalm is not merely an individual, but the entire people. Psalm 24/25 was probably used in penitential celebrations in the Temple in Jerusalem, which is why there is a constant interplay between ‘I’ and ‘we’ in biblical prayer. The Psalm speaks in the first person, but at the end it says: ‘Deliver Israel, O God, from all its troubles’. The ‘I’ therefore encompasses the ‘we’. The biblical person possesses a strong sense of solidarity across generations: the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob is the God of their descendants; the Covenant with Noah, Abraham and Moses concerns not only the individual, but the whole people. Today, however, our society often tends to place the individual, their freedom and their personal rights at the centre, sometimes at the expense of the communal dimension. The Bible has taken a different path: it has progressively discovered the importance of the individual without ever separating them from the community. This is one of the great riches of biblical revelation: the individual is not lost within the community, nor is the community forgotten in favour of the individual. We are personally responsible, yet at the same time we stand in deep solidarity with one another. For this reason, in the Psalm, that humble and trusting sinner is at once each one of us and the entire community of believers. Finally, there is a particularly beautiful detail: the Psalm continually plays on the theme of memory and forgetfulness: ‘Remember, Lord, your mercy… Do not remember the sins of my youth… Do not forget me’. It is almost a prayer that God might have a ‘selective memory’: that he might forget our sins and remember his mercy instead!

It is a bold prayer, yet also one of profound humility. Bold, because it springs from trust in the Covenant; humble, because it acknowledges one’s own sin and frailty. Man asks God: ‘Do not remember what I have been; remember instead who You are: merciful, faithful, slow to anger and great in love.’ After all, even in the Old Testament, Israel had discovered something surprising: God is not merely the Judge, but a Father full of tenderness and mercy. And so the prayer of the Psalm can also become our own: “Lord, when I have gone astray, teach me your way. When I have fallen, show me that I can return. When I recognise my own poverty and fragility, guide me. Do not remember my sins: remember your mercy. And grant that my ‘I’ may never forget the ‘we’ of the community of your children”.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Philippians (2:1–11)

On Palm Sunday, every year we hear above all the second part of this text, the part that contemplates the mystery of Christ: ‘Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be grasped’. Today, however, let us focus on the first part, in which Paul explains to us how to live ‘in Christ’. Paul uses this expression at the beginning and end of the passage: ‘If, then, there is any consolation in Christ…’ and then: ‘Have in you the same mindset as Christ Jesus’. Between these two statements, he lists the attitudes that must characterise the Christian life: comfort, love, fellowship, tenderness, compassion. It is no coincidence that these are the very same attributes with which God is described in the Old Testament. Being ‘in Christ’ is therefore not merely a figure of speech. From the moment of Baptism, we belong to Christ; we are incorporated into Him and become members of His Body. This new identity transcends all our differences: cultural, social, economic and physical. We now have a common name: Christians. It is like what happens in a large family: when we meet, before any other differences, we recognise that we belong to the same family. It is this profound sense of belonging that should characterise the Christian community. Paul says: ‘Have the same mindset, the same love, one spirit and one purpose’. It is as if he were telling us: honour the family to which you belong; honour the name you bear. Then comes a surprising expression: ‘Consider others better than yourselves’. This does not mean belittling oneself or thinking one is inferior. The Gospel does not ask us to rank people as superior or inferior. The Kingdom of God does not operate according to the logic of competition and comparison. The point is quite another: to learn to look at others with a positive gaze, almost with an attitude of admiration, seeking to see not what they possess, but what they are. The differences we see – physical, cultural, social, economic – belong above all to the dimension of ‘having’. Paul, on the other hand, leads us into the dimension of ‘being’: ‘ ‘As many of you as were baptised into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ’ (Gal 3:27). When I meet another baptised person, therefore, I must not stop at what is apparent. I must remember that they are a member of the Body of Christ, a temple of the Holy Spirit, and that they have a personal vocation, different from my own, yet necessary to God’s plan. Everyone possesses a gift that no one else can replace. Because of the mission God has entrusted to them, the other person may be ‘better’ than me, in the sense that they possess what I do not possess and can accomplish what I cannot. For this reason, they also need my esteem, my encouragement and my trust. The important thing is not to determine who is worth more, but to know what mission God entrusts to each individual and to the community as a whole. Every person is called to contribute to the building of the Kingdom according to the gift received from the Spirit. Finally, there is a great truth contained in this text: the Kingdom of God is already present, but it has yet to be fulfilled in our lives. In Christ, indeed, God’s plan to reunite humanity has already begun and, through Baptism, we have been incorporated into this reality. But what is already true in Christ must also gradually become true in our daily lives. Our being ‘in Christ’ cannot remain merely an inner reality or a simple religious formula: it must tangibly transform the way we view, welcome and treat others, both Christians and non-Christians. And here we understand the profound link between the two parts of the text. First, Paul tells us how those who are ‘in Christ’ should live; then he shows us how Christ himself lived: not seeking his own advantage, but humbling himself, becoming a servant and giving himself even to the point of death on the cross. For this reason, the Christological hymn is not merely a beautiful contemplation of Jesus: it is the concrete measure of our lives. ‘Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus’. To be Christian, therefore, means allowing the very movement of Christ to enter our lives: not asserting ourselves against others, but giving of ourselves; not seeking to be superior, but serving; not focusing on what the other possesses, but recognising who they are before God. It is in this way that what Christ has already accomplished becomes, day by day, a reality lived out in the Church and in the world. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (21:28–32)

‘Which of the two did the will of his father?’ This question from Jesus seems simple, almost too simple. Once again we find ourselves in the vineyard, as we did last Sunday. A father asks his two sons to go and work in the vineyard. The first replies ‘no’, but then changes his mind and goes; the second replies straight away: ‘Yes, sir’, but then does not go. Jesus asks the chief priests and the elders: ‘Which of the two did the will of his father?’ Clearly, he does not wish to test them with a simple riddle: he wants to open their eyes. The answer is obvious: the first. And it is precisely then that Jesus applies the parable to his listeners: you are like the second son. You say ‘yes’ to God; you are religious people, you know the Law, you await the Messiah and pray for his coming; yet when God sends him to you, you do not recognise him and you do not accept his word. It was the Father’s will that his people—and above all his religious authorities—should welcome his Envoy, the Messiah, Jesus. Herein lies the tragedy that will lead to the Passion: precisely those who seemed best prepared to welcome the Messiah will be the ones who refuse to recognise him. Jesus then utters a very strong statement: ‘Tax collectors and prostitutes will enter the Kingdom of God before you.’ He is not praising them because they are sinners. Their sin is certainly no cause for merit. Rather, they are like the younger son: they began by saying ‘no’, but then changed their ways. What happened? They believed the preaching of John the Baptist. John had called everyone to repentance: ‘Bear fruit worthy of repentance.’ The tax collectors and prostitutes, precisely because they recognised their own poverty and sinfulness, were able to listen. The religious authorities, on the other hand, refused to believe John and later Jesus. Matthew probably links this parable to the events that had just taken place in Jerusalem. At the beginning of chapter 21, Jesus had entered the city and the crowd had welcomed him as the Messiah, shouting: ‘Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ (Ps 117/118:26). But this enthusiasm was not shared by the chief priests and the elders. When Jesus was teaching in the Temple, they asked him: ‘By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority?’ In reality, the problem was precisely this: in their eyes, Jesus did not possess the necessary authority to speak in God’s name. Jesus, as is often the case, does not answer directly. He asks them: ‘Where did John’s baptism come from: from heaven or from men?’ They do not dare to reply, because any answer would have put them in a difficult position: to acknowledge John would have meant acknowledging his testimony about Jesus as well.

That is why Jesus tells the parable of the two sons. It is almost a final appeal for their conversion. Jesus does not wish to exclude anyone: he desires the salvation of all. If he speaks harshly, it is because time is now running out: we are on the eve of the Passion. But what had John the Baptist said? He had denounced precisely that religious self-assurance which prevents conversion: ‘Do not say amongst yourselves: “We have Abraham as our father.”’ It is not enough to belong to the chosen people, to know the Law or to hold a religious position. One must bear the fruits of conversion. Perhaps this was the real problem with the authorities: a certain certainty that they already possessed the truth about God, to the point where they were no longer capable of allowing themselves to be challenged by his word.

The tax collectors and the prostitutes, on the other hand, precisely because they recognised themselves as sinners and the poor before God, had more open ears and hearts. The problem, therefore, is not simply being a sinner or being religious. The problem is becoming so certain of one’s own convictions that one is no longer able to hear God when He speaks in a way that differs from what we expect. The parable thus presents us with a much deeper question. It is not enough to say ‘yes’ to God with our lips. Faith is recognised in our lives. It is not enough to know the Father’s will: we must carry it out. And the question that Jesus puts to the religious leaders becomes, today, a question for each of us: Have I truly entered the Father’s vineyard? Does my ‘yes’ to God find expression in my everyday life? Am I still capable of hearing a word that calls me to change? Or do I think I already know everything about God and leave no room for conversion?

The parable of the two sons goes even deeper than that of the labourers of the last hour. There, Jesus questioned the way we judge God’s mercy towards others; here, he questions our very piety. Ultimately, Jesus is not merely asking us: ‘Do you say “yes” to God?’, but: ‘Are you doing the Father’s will?’ Because in the Lord’s vineyard, it is not only what we say that counts, but the concrete response of our lives.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

25th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [20 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (55:6–9)

‘Seek the Lord, for he is to be found.’ Isaiah’s message does not mean: ‘Hurry, for God might withdraw.’ On the contrary: God is always near and always allows himself to be found. It is we, in our freedom, who turn away from him, and sometimes we even lose the desire to seek him.

Isaiah speaks to a discouraged people, exiled to Babylon and convinced that God has abandoned them. The prophet urges them to reject this idea: God’s silence does not mean His absence, and God is not far away, inaccessible or incapable of forgiving. On the contrary, He is ‘abundant in forgiveness’. The fundamental theme is therefore that of return: when we think of God as a harsh, vengeful or indifferent judge, we turn away from Him. When, on the other hand, we turn back to Him, we discover His true face: a tender, merciful God, ready to forgive. This revelation runs throughout the Bible. Hosea presents God as the One who sets aside His anger because His heart is full of compassion. Jeremiah speaks of thoughts of peace, capable of bestowing a future and hope. In the Gospel, Jesus reminds us that God causes the sun to rise on the good and the bad and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Even Jonah rebukes God because his compassion towards Israel’s enemies is ‘tender and merciful’. God is the ‘Wholly Other’ and the ‘Wholly Near’. Isaiah declares: ‘My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are my ways your ways.’ God is infinitely different from us, but it is precisely this difference that reveals something extraordinary: God loves and forgives without keeping score. We are often accustomed to the logic of give and take: we think that the good should be rewarded and the wicked punished; we tally up our merits and ask ourselves whether we are worthy of forgiveness. God, on the other hand, does not ask us to ‘earn’ his love. His forgiveness is grace; it is freely given. The real question, therefore, is not whether God is willing to forgive us, but whether we are willing to accept his forgiveness. As the text from Chronicles says: ‘If my people […] turn from their wicked ways, I will hear them, I will forgive their sin and heal them.’ It is not God who attaches a condition to his love: it is we who must open ourselves up in order to receive it. Finally, ‘my thoughts are not your thoughts’ also calls us to humility and tolerance. Since God infinitely transcends our understanding, no one can claim to possess the full truth about him. Speaking of God therefore requires humility and a willingness to listen. In short, God does not turn away from us: it is we who turn away from Him. And when we return, we do not find a stern God who holds us to account for our mistakes, but a Father who is ever near, tender, merciful and rich in forgiveness. His love cannot be bought or earned: it is received freely. 

Responsorial Psalm (144/145) 

‘The Lord is good to all.’ Psalm 144/145 harmonises perfectly with the message of the prophet Isaiah: God is full of mercy, rich in forgiveness, and continually invites humanity to return to Him. The psalm is the response of one who has rediscovered faith: ‘I will bless you every day; I will praise your name for ever.’ It is an ‘alphabetical’ psalm: from beginning to end, from A to Z, the whole of life is steeped in God’s covenant, His tenderness and His greatness. The psalm proclaims: ‘Great is the Lord and worthy of all praise; His greatness is without end.’ Isaiah expresses the same idea by saying that God’s thoughts and ways are infinitely superior to our own. But God’s greatness is not that of human power, wealth or success. God’s true greatness lies in his love and, above all, in his capacity to forgive. The same principle applies to human beings: true greatness does not lie in dominating others, but in knowing how to love. This is natural, for we are created in God’s image. A justice different from our own The psalm states: ‘The Lord is good to all; his compassion extends to all his creatures.’ God’s forgiveness is not reserved for a select few: it is offered to everyone, even to the sinner who returns to him. Our idea of justice leads us to think that those who have sinned greatly should receive a greater punishment. God, however, invites us to change our perspective: God’s justice is not that of the scales, but that of love. This is also shown in the parable of the labourers of the last hour: everyone receives the same wage, regardless of the number of hours worked. Jesus thus teaches us that God’s love does not operate according to our calculations of merit, seniority or reward. His generosity takes nothing away from anyone. God is close to everyone. The psalm concludes: ‘ The Lord is close to all who call upon him, to all who call upon him in sincerity’. God’s goodness is for everyone. His greatness is his love; his justice is mercy; and his forgiveness is not measured by our merits. And when we discover this logic, we are called not only to accept his forgiveness, but also to rejoice in the good he bestows upon others, without envy or judgement. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Philippians 

‘For me, to live is Christ.’ The Letter to the Philippians is particularly moving because it combines Paul’s great passion for Christ and for his mission with his human and fraternal affection for the people he encountered. Paul writes whilst in prison and facing the threat of death. Yet he affirms with great serenity: ‘Christ will be glorified in my body, whether I live or die’, that is, in his person and in his life. If he is set free, he will be able to continue proclaiming the Gospel; if, on the other hand, he dies, even his martyrdom will become a testimony to faith in the Resurrection. For Paul, therefore, whatever happens can become an opportunity to make Christ known. Even his imprisonment has helped to encourage other Christians to proclaim the Word. ‘For me, to live is Christ’ When Paul says: ‘For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain’, he expresses the very heart of his existence: Christ is his reason for living. To live means to belong to Christ and to serve him; to die means to enter fully into communion with him. Paul does indeed long to depart so that he may be with Christ, yet he does not wish to shirk the mission entrusted to him. He is torn between two desires: on the one hand, he longs to be with Christ once and for all; on the other, he knows that his presence can be of service to others. Ultimately, what matters to him is not his own interest, but the good of the communities and the spread of the Gospel. The only thing that matters is the Gospel. Paul thus leaves us with a very important question: what do we live for? For him, the answer is clear: to live means to belong to Christ and to place one’s life at the service of the Gospel. He regards his own life as a gift to be spent on others. This is why he concludes by exhorting the Philippians: ‘Conduct yourselves, then, in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ’. It is not simply a matter of being morally upright people. It means taking the Gospel seriously and making it visible through one’s life, one’s words and one’s service. To live for Christ means transforming one’s whole life into a testimony to God’s love.  

From the Gospel according to Matthew (20:1–16a) 

Let us set aside our bookkeeper’s logic. This is the logic presented to us in the parable of the labourers in the vineyard. By our standards, it seems unfair: those who have worked all day receive the same pay as those who arrived at the last hour, but Jesus makes it clear straight away that he is not speaking of a normal business, but of the ‘Kingdom of Heaven’. And in the Kingdom of God, different criteria apply from our own: ‘My thoughts are not your thoughts,’ says the Lord. The central point of the parable is what it reveals about God: ‘I am good’. God’s goodness does not keep score, does not measure merits, and does not determine how much love each person has ‘earned’. In the Kingdom of God, there is no tally of merits. We, on the other hand, are often tempted to keep track of everything: sacrifices, sufferings, prayers, good works. We think that all this gives us ‘rights’ before God. Jesus invites us to completely change this mindset.

‘Are you envious because I am good?’ The workers hired at the first hour protest: ‘You treat them just like us!’, whilst thinking: ‘We deserve more.’ But love does not operate according to the logic of merit. Love cannot be bought or earned: it is received as a gift. God’s justice does not consist in distributing according to our calculations, but in loving each of his children fully and without measure. The same logic runs through the whole of the Bible: God forgives the people of Nineveh even though they are pagans; Jesus welcomes tax collectors and sinners; the father in the parable joyfully welcomes the prodigal son. And on the cross, the good thief, at the very last moment, turns to Jesus and receives the promise of Paradise. Who can call themselves a ‘worker of the first hour’? In reality, the parable should console us. Who amongst us can truly consider themselves a worker of the first hour? We are all, in some way, workers of the last hour. We all live by God’s mercy and free grace. The problem arises when we look at others with envy and think that God is too good to them. That is when our eyes become evil. The lesson, therefore, is an invitation to abandon the mindset of comparison, merit and calculation, and to enter into the logic of grace. In short, God does not love us according to our merits: he loves us freely, fully and without measure. True conversion consists in abandoning our ‘accountant’s logic’ and learning to see through God’s eyes. We must not ask ourselves who deserves more, but rejoice because God is good to everyone. ‘My thoughts are not your thoughts, and my ways are not your ways’ (Isaiah). God’s justice is, ultimately, the justice of love and mercy.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

In the riddle, the solution

(Lk 9:7-9)

Jesus, who is he? You cannot give an answer except in the light of his story and his condemnation: nothing to do with one of the spiritualists or miracle-makers who arouses curiosity, as Herod expected.

The contrast between the extraordinary figure expected and the obtuseness of (elusive) judgment ends up leaving things as they are. Worse: it encloses the Mystery and loses its "where" today.

One does not understand the Person of Christ starting from the things we know.

He intends to wipe out all attractive but false idols; however, he does not like the axe of the Baptizer, nor the violent zeal of Elijah.

The new Rabbi wants to value the intuition of consciences, rather than the duties or the desire to analyze behaviors. This is the incredible.

Jesus is not some sort of ‘ghost’ that emerges from the past.

He turns history to completion according to innate and spontaneous impulses, which will let emerge the simple personal and the obvious unheard of.

Each religious group closed the Messiah in its interpretative model, consonant with an environment veined with ancient hopes: defense of goods and customs, "cultural" identity, well-being at the expense of others, expansion, wonders.

The sons’ revolution poses a theme that seeks the authentic Way, near and Elsewhere. The humanity of God.

In short, questioning the Person of Jesus already means beginning to overcome conformist codes and small habitual interpretations; to embrace the irruption of the Eternal.

It is the very question about the Person dimension that invites us to broaden the horizon and begin an Exodus. It will guide to authentic understanding, and measure; to the reason why we are in the world.

Christ reverses the destiny of the man’s kingdom, and his claims.

Any external combination with even eminent figures of the gallery of the greats of history remains static, partial, too predictable.

Not infrequently deviant, due to the inevitable brain limitations it provides, caging the soul [and immobilizing life].

On the Way, the growth of knowledge of his story, adherence to his depth, and Action of the Spirit, will not allow to persist in fixed thoughts, attachments, commonplaces.

Interpretations, preconceptions or showcases that then permeate all of life and dampen it, depriving it of intoxication.

Completely personal Presence, new Sense, innate Wisdom of ‘nature’; not a specific particularism that does not offer regenerated life - that winks only at itself.

Jesus: he is the Engine, the Way and the Reason for the Journey in the Spirit that is leading us.

His Person in us finds in us a “point” within from which he pours forth the courage to be ourselves, and to no longer seek external approval.

This frees the soul from common or prodigious expectations; from the regrets of conformity. To make us advance from primordial states and beliefs to new Dreams of the being that corresponds and tinkles, that emerges and wants to express itself - humanizing.

To internalize and live the message:

When did you realize that in the enigma about the Person of Christ there is already a cut with the obvious expectation, and a cue - the energy of the solution?

[Thursday 25th wk. in O.T.  September 24, 2026]

Who is Jesus: a question that judges

(Lk 9:7-9)

Jesus, who is he? No answer can be given except in the light of his story and his condemnation: nothing to do with one of the spirits or miracle-makers who arouses curiosity, as Herod expected.

The contrast between the extraordinary figure expected and misunderstood, and the obtuseness of the elusive judgement ends up leaving things as they are. Worse: it encloses the Mystery - the most normal one in the world, but one that remains forever [God's humanity] - and loses its 'whereabouts' today.

One does not understand the Person of Christ from the things we know or try to frame him in the customary criteria of the First Testament; with the common feeling, with the magical models of the time...

He is not one of the ancient prophets, come back to purify the filthiness of the opportunist strings of the Temple, and to mend the practices of ancient religion. He comes to supplant them.

By political exigencies, Herod Antipas is forced to be constantly on the alert for the security of his small kingdom [Galilee and Perea] so the success of the Baptist frightens him.

As Josephus Flavius reports, the king preferred to do away with him for fear of a popular uprising, for which he would have to account to Rome.

But - it is the stupidity of power - once a prophet is beheaded, someone more incisive takes his place.

While the blood of the Baptist was still fresh, news came of a young Rabbi who shocked the minds of the subjects of those lands.

The subversive nightmare returns, more subtle than before: the Son of God does not merely call for an improvement of the situation; he wants to replace it.

He proclaims the Truth of the Father and of authentic man, proposing a germ of an alternative world to the ruthless, pyramidal society of the time.

He intends to sweep away the attractive but false idols; however, he does not like the axe of the Baptizer, nor the violent zeal of Elijah - who had sent down a portentous and unstoppable fire from heaven on his enemies.

Jesus wants to value the intuition of consciences, rather than duties or the eagerness to analyse behaviour. This is the incredible.

The Lord is not some kind of 'ghost' who emerges from the past to make the 'ultimate', in an atmosphere [also of group] that oppresses and expects enhanced or even outsized results.

He turns history to fulfilment according to innate and spontaneous impulses, which will allow the simply personal and the blatantly unprecedented to emerge.

Each religious group enclosed the Messiah in its own interpretative model, consonant with an environment tinged with ancient hopes: defence of goods and customs, 'cultural' identity, well-being at the expense of others, expansion, prodigies.

The revolution of the sons poses a theme that seeks the authentic, proximate Way and Elsewhere - precisely, the humanity of God. In the background, around the corner, but not relegated inside a corner.

In short, to question the Person of Jesus is already to begin to move beyond conformist codes and petty habitual interpretations... to embrace the irruption of the Eternal.

It is the very question about the prominence of Person that invites us not to look at a single banal solution [that of everyone or of some lover of paroxysm].

Rather, to broaden the horizon and begin an Exodus, which will lead us to the authentic understanding and measure; to the reason why we are in the world.

Christ reverses the fate and destiny of the kingdom of man.

Any outward juxtaposition to even eminent figures in the gallery of history's greats remains static, partial, too predictable.

Not infrequently deviant, because of the inevitable cerebral limitations it causes, caging the soul [and immobilising life].

By Way, the growth of knowledge of its story, the adherence to its depth, the Action of the Spirit, will not allow fixed thoughts, attachments, commonplaces to persist in our minds.

Interpretations, preconceptions or window dressing that then impregnate the whole of life and dull it, depriving it of intoxication.

Entirely personal presence, new insight, innate Wisdom of 'nature'; not a specific particularism that does not offer regenerated life - that only winks at itself.

Jesus: he is the Engine, the Way and the Motive of the Way in the Spirit that is leading us.

His Person in us finds a "point" within from which He pours forth the courage to be ourselves, and to no longer seek external approval.

This frees the soul from common, or prodigious expectations; from the regrets of conformity. To advance from primordial states and beliefs to new Dreams of being that corresponds and tinkles, that emerges and wants to express itself - humanising.

To internalise and live the message:

In your opinion, what interpretations and preconceptions dampen the exercise of personal intuition in one's growth, and Evangelisation?When did you realise that in the enigma about the Person of Christ there is already a cut with the obvious of expectations, and a cue - the energy of the solution, even for revival from the global emergency?

As we follow him

To truly know Jesus we must talk to him, dialogue with him as we follow him on his path. Pope Francis focused his homily at the mass celebrated on 26 September 2013 in the chapel of Santa Marta precisely on getting to know Jesus.

The Pontiff took as his starting point the passage from Luke's Gospel (9:7-9) in which Herod wonders who the Jesus he hears so much about is. The person of Jesus, the Pontiff recalled, often provoked questions such as: "Who is this? Where does he come from? Let us think, for example, in the synagogue in Nazareth, when he left for the first time: but where did he learn these things? We know him well: he is the carpenter's son. We think of Peter and the apostles after that storm, that wind that Jesus silenced. But who is he to whom heaven and earth, the wind, the rain, the storm obey? But who is he?"

Questions, the Pope explained, that one can ask out of curiosity or to be sure of how to behave before him. The fact remains, however, that anyone who knows Jesus asks these questions. Indeed, "some", continued the Pope, returning to the Gospel episode, "begin to feel afraid of this man, because he can lead them into a political conflict with the Romans"; and so they think they do not take into greater consideration "this man who creates so many problems".

And why, the Pontiff asked, does Jesus create problems? "One cannot know Jesus," was his answer, "without having problems". Paradoxically, he added, 'if you want to have a problem, go down the road that leads you to know Jesus' and then many problems will arise. In any case, Jesus cannot be known 'in first class' or 'in tranquillity', let alone 'in the library'. Jesus can only be known in the daily journey of life.

And one can get to know him, said the Holy Father, "even in the catechism. It is true! The catechism,' he specified, 'teaches us many things about Jesus and we must study him, we must learn him. In this way we learn that the Son of God came to save us and we understand from the beauty of salvation history the love of the Father'. The fact remains, however, that even knowledge of Jesus through the catechism "is not enough": knowing him with the mind is already a step forward, but "Jesus must be known in dialogue with him. Speaking with him, in prayer, on your knees. If you do not pray, if you do not speak with Jesus,' he said, 'you do not know him'.

Finally, there is a third way to know Jesus: "It is following him, going with him, walking with him, walking his ways. And as you walk with him, you know "Jesus with the language of action. If you know Jesus with these three languages: of the mind, of the heart, of action, then you can say that you know Jesus". Making this kind of knowledge involves personal involvement. "One cannot know Jesus," the Pontiff reiterated, "without involving oneself with him, without staking one's life for him. Therefore, to really know him it is necessary to read "what the Church tells you about him, to speak with him in prayer and to walk the road with him". This is the way and "each one - he concluded - must make his own choice".

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 27/09/2013]

My dear Professor Odifreddi, (...) I would like to thank you for having tried in great detail to engage with my book and thus with my faith; this is largely what I had intended in my speech to the Roman Curia at Christmas 2009. I must also thank you for the fair manner in which you treated my text, sincerely trying to do it justice.

My judgement of your book as a whole is, however, rather mixed in itself. I read some parts of it with enjoyment and profit. In other parts, however, I marvelled at a certain aggressiveness and recklessness of the argumentation. (...)

Several times, she points out to me that theology would be science fiction. In this regard, I am amazed that you nevertheless consider my book worthy of such detailed discussion. Allow me to propose four points on this matter:

1. Is it correct to say that 'science' in the strictest sense of the word is only mathematics, whereas I learnt from you that here too a distinction should be made between arithmetic and geometry. In all specific subjects, scientificity has its own form each time, depending on the particularity of its object. The essential thing is that it applies a verifiable method, excludes arbitrariness and guarantees rationality in the respective modes.

2. At the very least, it should recognise that, in the historical sphere and in that of philosophical thought, theology has produced lasting results.

3. An important function of theology is to keep religion bound to reason and reason to religion. Both functions are of essential importance to humanity. In my dialogue with Habermas, I showed that there are pathologies of religion and - no less dangerous - pathologies of reason. Both need each other, and keeping them continuously connected is an important task of theology.

4. Science fiction exists, on the other hand, within many sciences. What you expound on the theories about the beginning and end of the world in Heisenberg, Schrödinger, etc., I would designate as science fiction in the good sense: they are visions and anticipations, in order to arrive at true knowledge, but they are, in fact, only imaginations with which we try to approach reality. There is, after all, science fiction in a big way even within the theory of evolution. Richard Dawkins' The Selfish Gene is a classic example of science fiction. The great Jacques Monod wrote some sentences that he himself will surely have included in his work only as science fiction. I quote: 'The appearance of tetrapod vertebrates ... originates precisely from the fact that a primitive fish 'chose' to go and explore the earth, on which it was, however, unable to move except by jumping awkwardly and thus creating, as a consequence of a change in behaviour, the selective pressure thanks to which the robust limbs of the tetrapods would develop. Among the descendants of this daring explorer, this Magellan of evolution, some can run at speeds in excess of 70 kilometres per hour..." (quoted in the Italian edition Il caso e la necessità, Milan 2001, p. 117 ff.). 

In all the issues discussed so far this is a serious dialogue, for which I - as I have already said repeatedly - am grateful. Things are different in the chapter on the priest and Catholic morality, and still differently in the chapters on Jesus. As for what you say about the moral abuse of minors by priests, I can - as you know - only take note of this with deep consternation. I have never tried to disguise these things. That the power of evil should penetrate to such an extent into the inner world of faith is for us a suffering that, on the one hand, we must endure, while, on the other hand, we must at the same time do everything possible to ensure that such cases do not happen again. Nor is it any comfort to know that, according to research by sociologists, the percentage of priests guilty of these crimes is no higher than in other comparable professional categories. In any case, one should not ostentatiously present this deviation as if it were a filth specific to Catholicism.

If it is not permissible to remain silent about evil in the Church, one must not, however, remain silent either about the great luminous wake of goodness and purity that the Christian faith has traced down the centuries. We must remember the great and pure figures that the faith has produced - from Benedict of Norcia and his sister Scholastica, to Francis and Clare of Assisi, to Teresa of Avila and John of the Cross, to the great Saints of charity such as Vincent de Paul and Camillus de Lellis, to Mother Teresa of Calcutta and the great and noble figures of 19th century Turin. It is also true today that faith drives many people to selfless love, service for others, sincerity and justice. (...)

What you say about the figure of Jesus is not worthy of your scientific rank. If you pose the question as if nothing is known about Jesus and nothing can be ascertained about him as a historical figure, then I can only strongly urge you to become a little more historically competent. I recommend to you for this especially the four volumes that Martin Hengel (an exegete from the Protestant Theological Faculty in Tübingen) has published together with Maria Schwemer: it is an excellent example of historical accuracy and extensive historical information. In the face of this, what you say about Jesus is rash talk that you should not repeat. That much has also been written in exegesis that is not very serious is, unfortunately, an indisputable fact. The American seminar on Jesus that you cite on pages 105 ff. only confirms once again what Albert Schweitzer had noted about Leben-Jesu-Forschung (Research on the Life of Jesus), namely that the so-called 'historical Jesus' is mostly a mirror of the ideas of the authors. Such unsuccessful forms of historical work, however, in no way undermine the importance of serious historical research, which has brought us true and reliable knowledge about the proclamation and the figure of Jesus. 

(...) Furthermore, I must emphatically reject your claim (p. 126) that I have presented historical-critical exegesis as a tool of the antichrist. In dealing with the account of Jesus' temptations, I have only taken up Soloviev's thesis that historical-critical exegesis can also be used by the antichrist - which is an indisputable fact. At the same time, however, I have always - and in particular in the preface to the first volume of my book on Jesus of Nazareth - made it abundantly clear that historical-critical exegesis is necessary for a faith that does not propose myths with historical images, but claims true historicity and must therefore also present the historical reality of its claims in a scientific manner. That is why it is not even correct for you to say that I would only be interested in meta-history: on the contrary, all my efforts are aimed at showing that the Jesus described in the Gospels is also the real historical Jesus; that it is history that really happened. (...)

With the 19th chapter of your book we return to the positive aspects of your dialogue with my thinking. (...) Although your interpretation of John 1: 1 is far removed from what the evangelist intended, there is nevertheless a convergence that is important. If you, however, want to replace God with 'Nature', the question remains, who or what this nature is. Nowhere do you define it and it therefore appears as an irrational deity that explains nothing. Above all, however, I would still like to point out that in your religion of mathematics three fundamental themes of human existence remain unconsidered: freedom, love and evil. I am astonished that you with a single mention dismiss freedom, which has been and is the core value of the modern age. Love does not appear in your book and there is no information about evil either. Whatever neurobiology may or may not say about freedom, in the real drama of our history it is present as a determining reality and must be taken into account. But your mathematical religion knows no information about evil. A religion that leaves out these fundamental questions remains empty.

My dear Professor, my criticism of your book is harsh in parts. But frankness is part of dialogue; only in this way can knowledge grow. You have been very frank and so you will accept that I am too. In any case, however, I very much welcome the fact that you, through your confrontation with my Introduction to Christianity, have sought such an open dialogue with the faith of the Catholic Church and that, despite all the contrasts, there is no lack of convergence in the core area.

With cordial greetings and all good wishes for your work.

[Pope Benedict, article in La Repubblica 24/09/2013]

1. With last week's catechesis, following the oldest symbols of the Christian faith, we began a new cycle of reflections on Jesus Christ. The Apostolic Symbol proclaims: "I believe . . . in Jesus Christ, his only Son (of God)". The Niceno-Constantinopolitan Symbol, after defining with even greater precision the divine origin of Jesus Christ as the Son of God, goes on to declare that this Son of God 'for us men and for our salvation descended from heaven and . . . became incarnate'. As can be seen, the core of the Christian faith consists of the twofold truth that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Son of man (the Christological truth), and is the realisation of man's salvation, which God the Father has accomplished in him, his Son and Saviour of the world (the soteriological truth).

2. If in the previous catecheses we dealt with evil, and sin in particular, we did so also to prepare the present cycle on Jesus Christ the Saviour. Salvation in fact means deliverance from evil, particularly sin. Revelation contained in sacred Scripture, beginning with the Proto-Gospel (Gen 3:15) opens us up to the truth that only God can free man from sin and all the evil present in human existence. God, while revealing himself as the Creator of the world and its providential Orderer, simultaneously reveals himself as Saviour: as the one who liberates from evil, particularly from sin caused by the creature's free will. This is the culmination of the creative project implemented by God's Providence, in which world (cosmology), man (anthropology) and God the Saviour (soteriology) are closely linked.

In fact, as the Second Vatican Council recalls, Christians believe that the world is "created and kept in existence by the love of the Creator, a world certainly placed under the bondage of sin, but liberated by Christ crucified and risen . . ." (Gaudium et Spes, 2).

3. The name 'Jesus', considered in its etymological meaning, means 'Yahweh frees', saves, helps. Before the enslavement in Babylon it was expressed in the form 'Jehosua': a theophoric name containing the root of the most holy name of Yahweh. After the Babylonian enslavement it took the abbreviated form 'Jeshua', which in the translation of the Septuagint was transcribed as 'Jesoûs' from which the Italian 'Jesus' is derived.

The name was quite common, both in the time of the old and the new covenant. It is in fact the name borne by Joshua, who after the death of Moses introduced the Israelites into the promised land: "He, according to the meaning of his name, was great for the salvation of God's elect . . . to give possession to Israel' (Sir 46: 1). Jesus, son of Sirach, was the compiler of the book of Sirach (Sir 50: 27). In the genealogy of the Saviour, recorded in the Gospel according to Luke, we find enumerated 'Er, son of Jesus' (Lk 3:28-29). Among St Paul's co-workers is also a certain Jesus, "called Righteous" (cf. Col 4:11).

4. The name Jesus, however, never had the fullness of meaning that it would take on in the case of Jesus of Nazareth and that would be revealed by the angel to Mary (cf. Lk 1:31ff.) and Joseph (cf. Mt 1:21). At the beginning of Jesus' public ministry, people understood his name in the common sense of the time.

"We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and the prophets wrote, Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth". So says one of the first disciples, Philip, to Nathanael who replies: "Can anything good ever come from Nazareth?" (Jn 1:45-46). This question indicates that Nazareth was not highly esteemed by the children of Israel. In spite of this, Jesus was called "Nazarene" (cf. Matthew 2: 23), or even "Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee" (Matthew 21: 11), an expression that Pilate himself used in the inscription he had placed on the cross: "Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews" (John 19: 19).

5. People called Jesus "the Nazarene" after the place where he resided with his family until he was thirty years old. We know, however, that Jesus' birthplace was not Nazareth but Bethlehem, a town in Judea, south of Jerusalem. This is attested by the evangelists Luke and Matthew. The former, in particular, points out that because of the census ordered by the Roman authorities, "Joseph went up from the town of Nazareth and Galilee to Judea to the city of David, called Bethlehem, to be registered with Mary his wife, who was with child. Now while they were in that place, the days of childbirth were fulfilled for her" (Lk 2:4-6).

As with other biblical places, Bethlehem also takes on a prophetic value. Referring to the prophet Micah, Matthew recalls that this town was designated as the place of the birth of the Messiah: "And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are not the smallest chief town of Judah: for out of you shall come forth a leader who shall shepherd my people Israel" (Mt 2:6). The prophet adds: ". . its origins are from antiquity, from the earliest days" (Mt 5:1).

This text was referred to by the priests and scribes whom Herod had consulted to answer the Magi who, having come from the East, asked where the birthplace of the Messiah was.

The text in Matthew's Gospel (Matthew 2: 1): "Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the time of King Herod", refers to the prophecy of Micah, to which the question in the Fourth Gospel also refers: "Does not the Scripture say that the Christ will come from the seed of David and from Bethlehem, the village of David?" (John 7: 42).

6. From these details we deduce that Jesus is the name of a historical person who lived in Palestine. If it is right to give historical credibility to figures like Moses and Joshua, all the more reason to accept the historical existence of Jesus. The Gospels do not tell us in detail about his life because they do not have a primarily historiographical purpose. However, it is precisely the Gospels that, read with critical honesty, lead to the conclusion that Jesus of Nazareth is a historical person who lived in a specific space and time. Even from a purely scientific point of view, it is not those who affirm, but those who deny the existence of Jesus, as the mythological theories of the past have done and as some scholars still do today, that must arouse wonder.

As for the precise date of Jesus' birth, expert opinions do not agree. It is commonly accepted that the monk Dionysius the Small, when in the year 533 he proposed to calculate the years not from the foundation of Rome, but from the birth of Jesus Christ, fell into error. Until recently, it was believed that this was a mistake of about four years, but the matter is far from settled.

7. In the tradition of the Israelitic people, the name 'Jesus' has retained its etymological value: 'God frees'. Traditionally, it was always the parents who imposed the name on their children. However, in the case of Jesus, son of Mary, the name was chosen and assigned from above already before his birth, according to the angel's indication to Mary in the annunciation (Lk 1:31) and to Joseph in a dream (Mt 1:21). "He was given the name Jesus" - underlines the evangelist Luke - because by this name "he had been called by the angel before he was conceived in his mother's womb" (Lk 2:21).

8. In the plan laid out by God's providence, Jesus of Nazareth bears a name that alludes to salvation: "God delivers", because he is in fact what the name indicates, namely the Saviour. This is testified by a number of phrases in the so-called Infancy Gospels, written by Luke (Lk 2:11): ". . there was born . . . a Saviour", and by Matthew (Mt 1:21): "for he will save his people from their sins". These are expressions that reflect the truth that is revealed and proclaimed throughout the New Testament. For example, the Apostle Paul writes in the Letter to the Philippians: "For this reason God has exalted him and given him the name which is above every other name; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow . . . and every tongue proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord (Kyrios, Adonai) to the glory of God the Father' (Phil 2:9-11).

The reason for the exaltation of Jesus we find in the testimony given to him by the apostles who boldly proclaimed: 'In no one else is there salvation; for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which it is established that we may be saved' (Acts 4:12).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 14 January 1987]

"It would be a good habit if every day, at some time, we could say: 'Lord, may I know you and may I know myself' and so go on". This is the suggestion proposed by Pope Francis in the Mass celebrated on Thursday 25 October at Santa Marta. There is no need for "Christians in words" who say the Creed "in parrot fashion", said the Pontiff, inviting people to live the experience of seriously feeling themselves to be sinners.

"If someone," Francis began, "asks us 'who is Jesus Christ', we will certainly say what we learned in catechesis, how he came to save the world, we will say the true doctrine about Jesus: he is the saviour of the world, the Son of the Father, God, man, what we recite in the Creed." But, he pointed out, "a little more difficult will be to answer the question: 'True, but for you, who is Jesus Christ?'". And this is a "question" that "embarrasses us a little, because I have to think and reach into my heart to give the answer".

So, the Pope relaunched, 'for me, who is Jesus Christ? The knowledge of Jesus Christ that I have, what is it? When I say that for me Jesus Christ is the Saviour, it is so,' said the Pontiff, 'but each one of us must also answer from the heart, what we know and feel about Jesus Christ, because we all know that he is the Saviour of the world, that he is the Son of God, that he came to earth to save us, and we can also recount so many passages of the Gospel'.

The direct question remains, however: but 'for me' who is Jesus Christ? Precisely "this is Paul's work," Francis explained in reference to the liturgical passage from the letter to the Ephesians (3:14-21), noting that the apostle "has this restlessness to transmit his own experience of Jesus Christ. In fact, Francis insisted, Paul "did not come to know Jesus Christ by beginning with theological studies; then, he went to see how Jesus Christ was announced in Scripture". On the contrary, 'he came to know Jesus Christ by his own experience, when he fell from his horse, when the Lord spoke to his heart, directly'. And 'what Paul heard he wants us Christians to hear'.

If it were possible to ask Paul 'who is Christ for you?', he would, the Pope said, tell 'his own experience, simple: "He loved me and gave himself up for me"'. But Paul 'is involved with Christ, who has paid for him', and 'this experience Paul wants Christians - in this case the Christians of Ephesus - to have, to enter into this experience to the point where everyone can say: "He loved me and gave himself up for me"'. But it is important 'to say it with one's own experience,' the Pope suggested.

Francis wished to reread a passage from the letter to the Ephesians proposed as the first reading: "May Christ dwell through faith in your hearts, and so, rooted and grounded in charity, be able to understand - there goes Paul - what is the breadth, length, height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses all knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."

"Paul wants to lead us all to this experience," the Pontiff explained, because it is "the experience he had of Jesus Christ: the encounter with Jesus Christ made him understand this great thing".

But "how can one get there, what is the way?" is the question proposed by the Pope. Perhaps, he added, "I have to recite the Creed many times? Yes, but it is not really the right way to arrive at this experience: it will help, but it is not the right way'. In fact, Francis said, "Paul when he says that Jesus gave himself up for him, that he died for him, he means 'he paid for me' and he recounts his own experience many times in his letters: 'I was a sinner', 'I persecuted Christians'".

To do this, the Pope continued, he 'starts from his own sin, from his own sinful existence, and the first definition Paul gives of himself is "sinner": chosen out of love, but a sinner'. Thus, the Pontiff pointed out, 'the first step to the knowledge of Christ, to enter into this mystery, is the knowledge of one's own sin, one's own sins'.

"We all approach the sacrament of reconciliation and we say our sins," Francis continued. "But," he specified, "it is one thing to say one's sins, to recognise one's sins, and another thing to recognise oneself as a 'sinner', capable of doing anything". In short, 'recognising oneself as dirt'. And 'Paul has this experience'.

It takes, therefore, the knowledge that 'the first step to the knowledge of Jesus Christ is one's own knowledge, of one's own wretchedness, which needs to be redeemed, which needs someone to pay: to pay for the right to call oneself a "child of God"'. In reality, the Pope explained, 'we all are, but' to 'say it, to feel it, there was a need for Christ's sacrifice and, starting from this, Paul goes on with these religious experiences that he has, one after the other, through prayer and charity'.

Here then, the Pontiff reaffirmed, that 'the first step' is 'to recognise oneself as a sinner, but not in theory, in practice'. To say 'I started to do this, I stopped, but if I had gone further down this road, I would have ended up badly, very badly' is 'the root of sin that takes you forward'. So "the first step is this: to recognise yourself as a sinner and tell yourself your miseries, to be ashamed of yourself: that is the first step".

"The second step to knowing Jesus is contemplation, prayer," the Pope said, proposing the simple invocation: "Lord, may I know you". And adding that "there is a beautiful prayer, by a saint: 'Lord, may I know you and may I know myself'". It is a matter, Francis explained, of "knowing oneself and knowing Jesus". And "here we have this relationship of salvation: prayer," the Pontiff relaunched, inviting us "not to be content with saying three, four right words about Jesus" because "to know Jesus is an adventure, but an adventure in earnest, not a child's adventure.

To know Jesus, the Pope continued, "is an adventure that takes you your whole life, because the love of Jesus is without limits". Paul reminds us of this in his letter to the Ephesians: "What breadth, length, height and depth" is an expression to indicate, precisely, that "it has no limits". But "this only with the help of the Holy Spirit can we find: it is the experience of a Christian". And "Paul himself says it: He has all power to do far more than we can ask or think. He has the power to do it'. But "we must ask him: 'Lord, that I may know you; that when I speak of you, I speak not parrot words, I speak words born of my experience, and like Paul I may say: 'He loved me and gave himself up for me' and say it with conviction". This is our strength, this is our testimony".

"Christians of words, we have many; we too, many times we are," Francis warned. But "this is not holiness: holiness is being Christians who work in life what Jesus taught and what Jesus sowed in the heart". To do this one must "know Jesus" with "that knowledge that has no limits: the height, the length, the fullness, everything".

The "first step", the Pope repeated, remains "to know oneself as a sinner: without this knowledge, and also without this interior confession that I am a sinner, we cannot go forward". Then, he recalled, the "second step" is "prayer to the Lord that, with his power, he may make us know this mystery of Jesus who is the fire that he brought to earth."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 26/10/2018]

Satisfied sobriety: new Depth

(Lk 9:1-6)

At the time of Jesus, there was no lack of various renewal movements that sought to revive community life, undermined by economic and social collapse, and political and religious servility.

Essenes, Pharisees and Zealots had their missionaries, who although sent by those who most radically desired a new way of co-presence, were totally biased against other interlocutors.

They did not trust people, nor the customs or food of others, which was also legally considered unclean.

Instead, the Apostles must learn to accept hospitality; trusting people, and imagine being welcomed even by those whom common devotion considers defiled.

The person of Faith differs from the fundamentalist religious believer because he has an opposite criterion of fraternity and coexistence: he denounces the laws of ritual, cultural and social exclusion.

He/she have a new depth.

Access to 'purity' is in the intimate and personal relationship with God, and in the quality of open relationships; not elsewhere. And the Church is an eccentric reality; it does not live for itself, for advantage, to win.

It has only the task of keeping alive the Message that guides all to full Happiness.

Each one, and the Community itself, focus on the [real, through life] Announcement that has transforming power. Absolutely the Church is not established to impose ideas and triumph, far from it.

Thus the son of God on the way cannot spend time improving his lodging, as if it were a sign of social and spiritual rank - perhaps moving from an initial makeshift accommodation to more and more affluent and conspicuous forms on the territory (v.4).

The authentic witness to Christ has in his heart quite another Promise.

Lk insists that the Mission must take place in absolute poverty - a condition for continuing the dream of Jesus - and even takes away from the believer in Christ the [helpless] shortage of the travelling stick that Mk (6:8) leaves him instead.

Relationships with events, relationships with people and the blind forces of power, and natural contingencies, must become in us Encounter.

Stunning of new Empathy that in itself announces wisdom, healing, and victory over infirmity (vv.1-2) - introducing even the distant and desperate to the incisiveness of Faith.

This Journey of finding one's own and others' lives in the hands of the Father is not yet over.

The Truth of the Risen One is open to an updated and perspective, unframed Hope - to be enlivened again. The need for works transmuting the ancient world acquires an ever invigorated topicality.

It continues to the present day, but with needs, motives, horizons and offers of redemption in totally surprising “divine” forms - also due to multifaceted cultural contexts [or even internal interferences, with their unchanging attempts at rigid and pious respectability or fashionable obfuscation of the human spirit].

What matters is not the Means, tools [which are used from time to time], which differ according to environment or are more or less limited, but the proclamation of the Truth that one 'does', not that one 'has'.

In itself, material deprivation is a “chair”, but also a showcase. In other religions, there are forms of individual poverty and dispossession [compared to ours] that are heroic and astonishing, yet perhaps inaccessible and circle-like in their incredible athleticism - and depersonalisation.

The Church must be free, available, all dedicated, defenceless.

Its specific weight - a true guarantee of credibility - remains to be discerned in the order of a universal and perfect life ‘as saved ones’ [recovered by Grace], not like aseptic phenomena chiselled in minute detail.

We see it today, in the time of global crisis: we need to reinvent ourselves in order to be reborn, even in terms of the sacredness criteria.

In short: we have to stop sabotaging our spontaneous natural resources, and become who we are, starting from day-to-day frailties - in a more genuine [and at the same time, deeper] way.

Sometimes it will be necessary to make use of the very aspects that were once considered to be a weakness of character... precisely to be excluded, in a world that is all exterior, falsely extroverted, mannered, self-important.

In order to build one Family and one People of God, freed from fetters that humble the joy, all credible ‘facts’ and conforming ‘means’ - fragrant and spontaneous, or even culturally honed - can be welcomed, taken into account, reinvented.

The absolute and non-negotiable option is the good of the concrete woman and man, not a belief in pureness, or “cultural” appropriateness.

What matters is the concern for our relationship with God in the communion with our brothers and sisters as equals, for a conviviality of differences that enriches us, personally and together.

The quality of understanding is enough for everything, and marks a wise difference to idolizing aspects... such as material rivalry, control of weak consciences, and expansion into the territory - figures that are so important for ideologies and unfortunately also for some imposing forms of our beliefs [rigid or surreptitious].

If, on the other hand, we root ourselves in an exclusively convivial and broad-minded disposition of coexistence, we will inform our entire way of life. This, in the satisfied sobriety of those who already possess the authentic Treasure, within and without: the universal Christ, resurrected for the «multitudes»; Source and Summit of the Kingdom to be built.

To internalize and live the message:

How do you proclaim the Kingdom of God?

Do you bring what you, first, experienced, or do you prefer other people’s ideas, artificial attitudes, schemes, thoughts, organisation charts and ‘names’?

What do you think complicates the Announcement today?

[Wednesday 25th wk. in O.T.  September 23, 2026]

Dear friends, with your precious work of animation and missionary cooperation you remind the People of God of “the need in our day too for decisive commitment to the missio ad gentes” (Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini, n. 95), to proclaim the “the great hope”, “the God who has a human face and who has loved us to the end, each one of us and humanity in its entirety” (Encyclical Spe Salvi, n. 31). Indeed, new problems and new forms of slavery are emerging in our time, both in the so-called first world, well-off and rich but uncertain about its future, and in the developing countries, which, partly because of a globalization often characterized by profit ends by increasing the masses of the poor, emigrants and the oppressed, in which the light of hope fades.

The Church must constantly renew her commitment to bring Christ, to prolong his messianic mission to bring about the Kingdom of God, a Kingdom of justice, peace, freedom and love. It is the duty of the entire People of God to transform the world according to God’s plan with the renewing force of the Gospel, so “that God may be everything to every one” (1 Cor 15:28). Thus it is necessary to continue with renewed enthusiasm the work of evangelization, the joyful proclamation of the Kingdom of God, who came in Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit, to lead all men and women to the true freedom of children of God against every form of slavery. It is necessary to cast the nets of the Gospel into the sea of history to bring human beings towards the land of God.

“The mission of proclaiming the word of God is the task of all of the disciples of Jesus Christ based on their Baptism” (Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini, n. 94). However in order that they may be a decisive commitment to evangelization, it is necessary that individual Christians and communities truly believe that “the word of God is the saving truth which men and women in every age need” (ibid., n. 95). If this conviction of faith is not profoundly rooted in our own lives, we shall not be able to feel the urgency and beauty of proclaiming it. In fact, every Christian must make his or her own the pressing need to work for the edification of the Kingdom of God. Everything in the Church is at the service of evangelization: every sector of her activity and also each and every one, in the various duties that they are called to carry out. All must be involved in the missio ad gentes: bishops, priests, men and women religious and lay people. “No believer in Christ can feel dispensed from this responsibility which comes from the fact of our sacramentally belonging to the Body of Christ” (ibid., n. 94). It is therefore necessary to ensure that all the sectors of pastoral work, catechesis and charity are characterized by the missionary dimension: the Church is mission.

A fundamental condition for proclamation is to let oneself be completely grasped by Christ, the Word of God incarnate, because only those who listen attentively to the incarnate Word, who are intimately united to him, can become his heralds (cf. ibid., nn. 51, 91). The Gospel messenger must remain under the dominion of the Word and must draw nourishment from the Sacraments: it is on this vital sap that their existence and missionary ministry depends. Only if we are rooted profoundly in Christ and in his word are we capable of withstanding the temptation to reduce evangelization to a purely human, social project, hiding or glossing over the transcendent dimension of the salvation offered by God in Christ.

It is a word that must be witnessed to and proclaimed explicitly, because without a consistent witness it proves to be less comprehensible and credible. Even if we often feel inadequate, poor, incapable, let us always preserve our certainty of the power of God who places his treasure “in earthen vessels” precisely so that it may appear that it is he who acts through us.

The ministry of evangelization is fascinating and demanding. It requires love for proclamation and bearing witness, a love so total that it can even be marked by martyrdom. The Church cannot fail in her mission of bringing Christ’s light, of proclaiming the Good News of the Gospel, even if this entails persecution (cf. Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini, n. 95). It is part of her very life, as it was for Jesus. Christians must not be afraid, even if “Christians are the religious group which suffers most from persecution on account of its faith” (Message for the World Day of Peace 2011, n. 1).

St Paul said that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom 8:38-39).

[Pope Benedict, address to the General Assembly Pontifical Missionary Works 14 May 2011]