After the Last Supper, the Lord, “lifted up his eyes to heaven and said, ‘Father, the hour has come; glorify thy Son’” — and then — “glorify thou me in thy own presence with the glory which I had with thee before the world was made” (Jn 17:1-5). Jesus asks for glory, a request which seems a paradox as his Passion is imminent. What glory is he referring to? In the Bible, glory refers to God’s self-revelation. It is the distinctive sign of his saving presence among mankind. Now, Jesus is the One who definitively manifests God’s presence and salvation. And he does this at Easter: lifted up on the Cross, he is glorified (cf. Jn 12:23-33). There, God finally reveals his glory: he removes the last veil and astonishes us as never before. Indeed, we discover that the Glory of God is entirely love: pure, unbridled and inconceivable love, beyond every limit and measure.

Brothers and sisters, let us make Jesus’ prayer our own: let us ask the Father to remove the veil from our eyes, so that in looking at the Crucifix over these days, we may understand that God is love. How often do we imagine him as master and not as Father; how often do we think of him as an austere judge rather than a merciful Saviour! But at Easter, God voids the distances, revealing himself in the humility of a love that seeks our love. Thus, we give him glory when we live whatever we do with love, when we do everything from our heart, as if for him (Col 3:17).

True glory is the glory of love because it is the only kind that gives life to the world. This glory is certainly the opposite of worldly glory, which comes from being admired, praised, acclaimed: when the ‘I’ is at the centre of attention. The Glory of God, on the other hand, is paradoxical: no applause, no audience. At the centre is not the ‘I’, but rather the other. Indeed, at Easter we see that the Father glorifies the Son as the Son glorifies the Father. No one glorifies him- or herself. We can ask ourselves today: “which glory do I live for? Mine or God’s? Do I wish only to receive from others or also to give to others?”.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 17 April 2019]

The misunderstandings echo

(Jn 16:29-33)

In John the Lord's statements always have a resonance of misunderstanding among the hearers.

After the announcement of Jesus 'ascent' to the Father, here it seems instead that the disciples - at least a little - understand him.

They will shortly betray him; but that doesn't mean not having intuited anything.

The post-Easter church experiences the dialectic of Faith: community clarifies it, deepens it over time, and step by step accepts it.

The Life of the Eternal is made present, becomes more aware. The Vision of Faith grasps and anticipates the future.

The apostles “understand” and “believe”, or at least begin to do so. But they are still so tied to external evidence. Hence the fatigue of the understanding journey, and the distrust of Christ [who knows us].

Ours is always a partial convincing, but abandonments, hesitations, betrayals, do not have the power to weaken the Son's relationship with the Father and his own intimates.

God cannot be overcome. He is the only support: far more reliable than our knowledge, certainty, faint confidence.

Misunderstanding is not an obstacle to the relationship of Faith, on the contrary, if brought to consciousness it allows the Gold to emerge; it arouses a burst, activates intimate acumen, a convinced involvement.

There the «Peace in Him» (v.33) arises - proper to her/him who is troubled. Shalôm that is neither quietism, nor truce.

The victory of life over the germs of death can only be understood in trials, in which what we are [in being and acting] emerges.

The stability of existing in the Spirit of Jesus does not rest on the lack of escapes, but on the authentic Foundation, only divine - hence multifaceted, life-wave-tolerant.

The text allows us to take measure of our misunderstandings, of our own rejections of the resounding appeals that Providence offers.

The many reminders immediately give the fruitful measure of the precarious condition, and hint that not even the eventual «Here I am» commensurate with a progression.

The conspicuous denials make it clear that the «Yes» is constantly in the germination phase.

Well, firm spiritual trust is not presumptuous, but incipient. Nor superficial. It is powerful in its powerlessness.

The verification of belief is not only the acceptance of the Cross - however improbable - but its silent and fruitful condition of Unexpected. Penetration of reality, which overcomes the world (v.33).

Jesus disillusioned the enthusiastic belief of his disciples: he knows that it heralds shameful escapes, or the most degrading stasis.

But in difficulties no one is alone. Every trial is an opportunity for reflection, full of profound energy and mysterious growth.

Faith is not epidermically perky certainty: if authentic, it is questioned step by step.

There is no moment in which problems are overcome.

And only with the Gift of the Spirit can it be accepted that the Father's Plan and the Son's Work be fulfilled in loss.

Velvets are illusory.

One only comes to know the Father of life, Heaven in us, by walking the road of an unceasing Liberation: for the raw and full understanding of the Most High, always a long way off lacks.

[Monday 7th wk. in Easter, June 2, 2025]

The echo of misunderstandings

(Jn 16:29-33)

In John, the Lord's statements always have a resonance of misunderstanding among the hearers.

After the announcement of Jesus' 'ascent' to the Father, here it seems instead that the disciples - at least a little - understand him.

They will soon betray him; but that is not to say that they have not guessed.

The post-Easter church experiences the dialectic of Faith: it clarifies it, deepens it over time, and step by step accepts it.

The Life of the Eternal becomes present, becomes more conscious. The Vision of Faith grasps and anticipates the future.

The apostles 'understand' and 'believe', or at least begin to do so. But they are still so tied to external evidence. Hence the fatigue of the journey of understanding, and the distrust of Christ [who knows us].

Ours is always a partial convincing, but abandonments, hesitations, betrayals, do not have the power to weaken the Son's relationship with the Father and his own.

God cannot be overcome. He is the only support: far more reliable than our knowledge, certainty, faint confidence.

Misunderstanding is not an obstacle to the relationship of Faith, on the contrary, if brought to consciousness it allows the Gold to emerge; it arouses a burst, activates the intimate acumen, a convinced involvement.

There arises the "Peace in Him" (v.33) - proper to him who is troubled.

Shalôm that is not quietism, nor respite; much less the result of letting go - because it is reflected [even in the anger that activates us].

The victory of life over the germs of death can only be understood in trials, in which what we are [in being and acting] emerges.

The stability of existing in the Spirit of Jesus does not rest on the lack of escapism, but on the authentic, only divine foundation - hence multifaceted, life-wave-tolerant.

The text allows us to take measure of our misunderstandings, of our own rejections of the resounding appeals that Providence makes.

The many reminders immediately give the fruitful measure of the precarious condition, and hint that even the eventual "Here I am" does not fit into a progression.

The conspicuous denials make it clear that the 'Yes' is constantly in its germinal phase.

In short, firm spiritual trust is not presumptuous, but incipient. Nor superficial. It is powerful in its impotence.

The verification of belief is not only the acceptance of the Cross - albeit improbable - but its silent and fruitful condition of the unexpected. Penetration of reality, which overcomes the world (v.33).

Jesus disillusioned the enthusiastic belief of his own: he knows that it heralds shameful escapes, or the most degrading stasis.

But in difficulties, no one is alone. Every trial is an opportunity for reflection, full of momentum and mysterious growth.

Faith is not bold certainty: if authentic, it is questioned step by step.

There is no moment in which problems are overcome.

And only with the Gift of the Spirit can one accept that the Father's Plan and the Son's Work be fulfilled in loss.

At the conclusion of a series of question-and-answer catecheses, John encourages his communities saddened by nerve-wracking waits not to fear the apparent power of the pact between official religion and empire, which seemed to ridicule the Faith of the little ones and put out of play the commitment of all brothers and sisters in Christ.

Even today, some 'disciples' think they have it all figured out and pose as doctors and allologists. But when in Jesus we feel correspondence and a light is manifested, it is good to know: the best is yet to be revealed.

Faith grows in the concrete experience of life and in the synergy with the Word of God that gradually illuminates its features.

Sometimes his Voice or events can be a cold shower that extinguishes flattery [which will prove fatal if carried out] and proud "childish" enthusiasm - deceptive.

Initially, believing in the Crucified One is perhaps linked to a spontaneous correspondence. But in time and in real discipleship, the life of Faith becomes better and better delineated, and extinguishes the false outbreaks of acerbic assent: when the presumption of self, of one's own ideas and strength, falls away.

For being in Christ is an engine that leads us, and gradually astounds us with unimaginable discoveries: treasures hidden behind dark sides. This re-creates the soul.

Some try to normalise our personalities and use us for themselves or their clan, but the Eternal One does not enter into any cultural patterns, indeed in time he disarms them all.

In vain is the common attempt of religions to transmit [dated or fashionable] obsessions peppered with hysterical fantasies and fake confidence to the simple.

The habitual devotees - the ones from parties and brackets - become disorientated as soon as they realise that God is not a protector of material blessings or conventional sacred idols.

The devious, deviant structures of sin are referred to in John as the "world" - meaning the seemingly happy union with power and gain: a trap of quietisms, concordisms and illusory velvet.One only comes to know the Father of life, Heaven within us, by walking the road of unceasing Liberation: for the raw and full understanding of the Most High is always a long way off.

Fatigue

“My hand shall ever abide with him, my arms also shall strengthen him” (Ps 89:21).

This is what the Lord means when he says: “I have found David, my servant; with my holy oil I have anointed him” (v. 20). It is also what our Father thinks whenever he “encounters” a priest. And he goes on to say: “My faithfulness and my steadfast love shall be with him… He shall cry to me, ‘You are my Father, my God and the rock of my salvation”’ (vv. 24, 26).

It is good to enter with the Psalmist into this monologue of our God. He is talking about us, his priests, his pastors. But it is not really a monologue, since he is not the only one speaking. The Father says to Jesus: “Your friends, those who love you, can say to me in a particular way: ‘You are my Father’” (cf. Jn 14:21). If the Lord is so concerned about helping us, it is because he knows that the task of anointing his faithful people is not easy, it is demanding; it can tire us. We experience this in so many ways: from the ordinary fatigue brought on by our daily apostolate to the weariness of sickness, death and even martyrdom.

The tiredness of priests! Do you know how often I think about this weariness which all of you experience? I think about it and I pray about it, often, especially when I am tired myself. I pray for you as you labour amid the people of God entrusted to your care, many of you in lonely and dangerous places. Our weariness, dear priests, is like incense which silently rises up to heaven (cf. Ps 141:2; Rev 8:3-4). Our weariness goes straight to the heart of the Father.

Know that the Blessed Virgin Mary is well aware of this tiredness and she brings it straight to the Lord. As our Mother, she knows when her children are weary, and this is her greatest concern. “Welcome! Rest, my child. We will speak afterwards…”. “Whenever we draw near to her, she says to us: “Am I not here with you, I who am your Mother?” (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 286). And to her Son she will say, as she did at Cana, “They have no wine” (Jn 2:3).

It can also happen that, whenever we feel weighed down by pastoral work, we can be tempted to rest however we please, as if rest were not itself a gift of God. We must not fall into this temptation. Our weariness is precious in the eyes of Jesus who embraces us and lifts us up. “Come to me, all who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). Whenever a priest feels dead tired, yet is able to bow down in adoration and say: “Enough for today Lord”, and entrust himself to the Father, he knows that he will not fall but be renewed. The one who anoints God’s faithful people with oil is also himself anointed by the Lord: “He gives you a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit” (cf. Is 61:3).

Let us never forget that a key to fruitful priestly ministry lies in how we rest and in how we look at the way the Lord deals with our weariness. How difficult it is to learn how to rest! This says much about our trust and our ability to realize that that we too are sheep: we need the help of the Shepherd. A few questions can help us in this regard.

Do I know how to rest by accepting the love, gratitude and affection which I receive from God’s faithful people? Or, once my pastoral work is done, do I seek more refined relaxations, not those of the poor but those provided by a consumerist society? Is the Holy Spirit truly “rest in times of weariness” for me, or is he just someone who keeps me busy? Do I know how to seek help from a wise priest? Do I know how to take a break from myself, from the demands I make on myself, from my self-seeking and from my self-absorption? Do I know how to spend time with Jesus, with the Father, with the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph, with my patron saints, and to find rest in their demands, which are easy and light, and in their pleasures, for they delight to be in my company, and in their concerns and standards, which have only to do with the greater glory of God? Do I know how to rest from my enemies under the Lord’s protection? Am I preoccupied with how I should speak and act, or do I entrust myself to the Holy Spirit, who will teach me what I need to say in every situation? Do I worry needlessly, or, like Paul, do I find repose by saying: “I know him in whom I have placed my trust” (2 Tim 1:12)?

Let us return for a moment to what today’s liturgy describes as the work of the priest: to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim freedom to prisoners and healing to the blind, to offer liberation to the downtrodden and to announce the year of the Lord’s favour. Isaiah also mentions consoling the broken-hearted and comforting the afflicted.

These are not easy or purely mechanical jobs, like running an office, building a parish hall or laying out a soccer field for the young of the parish… The tasks of which Jesus speaks call for the ability to show compassion; our hearts are to be “moved” and fully engaged in carrying them out. We are to rejoice with couples who marry; we are to laugh with the children brought to the baptismal font; we are to accompany young fiancés and families; we are to suffer with those who receive the anointing of the sick in their hospital beds; we are to mourn with those burying a loved one… All these emotions…if we do not have an open heart, can exhaust the heart of a shepherd. For us priests, what happens in the lives of our people is not like a news bulletin: we know our people, we sense what is going on in their hearts. Our own heart, sharing in their suffering, feels “com-passion”, is exhausted, broken into a thousand pieces, moved and even “consumed” by the people. Take this, eat this… These are the words the priest of Jesus whispers repeatedly while caring for his faithful people: Take this, eat this; take this, drink this… In this way our priestly life is given over in service, in closeness to the People of God… and this always leaves us weary.

I wish to share with you some forms of weariness on which I have meditated.

There is what we can call “the weariness of people, the weariness of the crowd”. For the Lord, and for us, this can be exhausting – so the Gospel tells us – yet it is a good weariness, a fruitful and joyful exhaustion. The people who followed Jesus, the families which brought their children to him to be blessed, those who had been cured, those who came with their friends, the young people who were so excited about the Master… they did not even leave him time to eat. But the Lord never tired of being with people. On the contrary, he seemed renewed by their presence (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 11). This weariness in the midst of activity is a grace on which all priests can draw (cf. ibid., 279). And how beautiful it is! People love their priests, they want and need their shepherds! The faithful never leave us without something to do, unless we hide in our offices or go out in our cars wearing sun glasses. There is a good and healthy tiredness. It is the exhaustion of the priest who wears the smell of the sheep… but also smiles the smile of a father rejoicing in his children or grandchildren. It has nothing to do with those who wear expensive cologne and who look at others from afar and from above (cf. ibid., 97). We are the friends of the Bridegroom: this is our joy. If Jesus is shepherding the flock in our midst, we cannot be shepherds who are glum, plaintive or, even worse, bored. The smell of the sheep and the smile of a father…. Weary, yes, but with the joy of those who hear the Lord saying: “Come, O blessed of my Father” (Mt 25:34).

There is also the kind of weariness which we can call “the weariness of enemies”. The devil and his minions never sleep and, since their ears cannot bear to hear the word of God, they work tirelessly to silence that word and to distort it. Confronting them is more wearying. It involves not only doing good, with all the exertion this entails, but also defending the flock and oneself from evil (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 83). The evil one is far more astute than we are, and he is able to demolish in a moment what it took us years of patience to build up. Here we need to implore the grace to learn how to “offset” (and it is an important habit to acquire): to thwart evil without pulling up the good wheat, or presuming to protect like supermen what the Lord alone can protect. All this helps us not to let our guard down before the depths of iniquity, before the mockery of the wicked. In these situations of weariness, the Lord says to us: “Have courage! I have overcome the world!” (Jn 16:33). The word of God gives us strength.

And finally – I say finally lest you be too wearied by this homily itself! – there is also “weariness of ourselves” (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 277). This may be the most dangerous weariness of all. That is because the other two kinds come from being exposed, from going out of ourselves to anoint and to do battle (for our job is to care for others). But this third kind of weariness is more “self-referential”: it is dissatisfaction with oneself, but not the dissatisfaction of someone who directly confronts himself and serenely acknowledges his sinfulness and his need for God’s mercy, his help; such people ask for help and then move forward. Here we are speaking of a weariness associated with “wanting yet not wanting”, having given up everything but continuing to yearn for the fleshpots of Egypt, toying with the illusion of being something different. I like to call this kind of weariness “flirting with spiritual worldliness”. When we are alone, we realize how many areas of our life are steeped in this worldliness, so much so that we may feel that it can never be completely washed away. This can be a dangerous kind of weariness. The Book of Revelation shows us the reason for this weariness: “You have borne up for my sake and you have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first” (Rev 2:3-4). Only love gives true rest. What is not loved becomes tiresome, and in time, brings about a harmful weariness.

The most profound and mysterious image of how the Lord deals with our pastoral tiredness is that, “having loved his own, he loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1): the scene of his washing the feet of his disciples. I like to think of this as the cleansing of discipleship. The Lord purifies the path of discipleship itself. He “gets involved” with us (Evangelii Gaudium, 24), becomes personally responsible for removing every stain, all that grimy, worldly smog which clings to us from the journey we make in his name.

From our feet, we can tell how the rest of our body is doing. The way we follow the Lord reveals how our heart is faring. The wounds on our feet, our sprains and our weariness, are signs of how we have followed him, of the paths we have taken in seeking the lost sheep and in leading the flock to green pastures and still waters (cf. ibid., 270). The Lord washes us and cleanses us of all the dirt our feet have accumulated in following him. This is something holy. Do not let your feet remain dirty. Like battle wounds, the Lord kisses them and washes away the grime of our labours.

Our discipleship itself is cleansed by Jesus, so that we can rightly feel “joyful”, “fulfilled”, “free of fear and guilt”, and impelled to go out “even to the ends of the earth, to every periphery”. In this way we can bring the good news to the most abandoned, knowing that “he is with us always, even to the end of the world”. And please, let us ask for the grace to learn how to be weary, but weary in the best of ways!

[Pope Francis, Chrism homily 2 April 2015]

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Once more in meditation, prayer and song, we have recalled Jesus’s journey along the way of the cross: a journey seemingly hopeless, yet one that changed human life and history, and opened the way to “new heavens and a new earth” (cf. Rev 21:1). Especially today, Good Friday, the Church commemorates with deep spiritual union the death of the Son of God on the cross; in his cross she sees the tree of life, which blossoms in new hope.

The experience of suffering and of the cross touches all mankind; it touches the family too. How often does the journey become wearisome and difficult! Misunderstandings, conflicts, worry for the future of our children, sickness and problems of every kind. These days too, the situation of many families is made worse by the threat of unemployment and other negative effects of the economic crisis. The Way of the Cross which we have spiritually retraced this evening invites all of us, and families in particular, to contemplate Christ crucified in order to have the force to overcome difficulties. The cross of Christ is the supreme sign of God’s love for every man and woman, the superabundant response to every person’s need for love. At times of trouble, when our families have to face pain and adversity, let us look to Christ’s cross. There we can find the courage and strength to press on; there we can repeat with firm hope the words of Saint Paul: “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? … No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Rom 8:35,37).

In times of trial and tribulation, we are not alone; the family is not alone. Jesus is present with his love, he sustains them by his grace and grants the strength needed to carry on, to make sacrifices and to evercome every obstacle. And it is to this love of Christ that we must turn when human turmoil and difficulties threaten the unity of our lives and our families. The mystery of Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection inspires us to go on in hope: times of trouble and testing, when endured with Christ, with faith in him, already contain the light of the resurrection, the new life of a world reborn, the passover of all those who believe in his word.

In that crucified Man who is the Son of God, even death itself takes on new meaning and purpose: it is redeemed and overcome, it becomes a passage to new life. “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it produces much fruit” (Jn 12:24). Let us entrust ourselves to the Mother of Christ. May Mary, who accompanied her Son along his way of sorrows, who stood beneath the cross at the hour of his death, and who inspired the Church at its birth to live in God’s presence, lead our hearts and the hearts of every family through the vast mysterium passionis towards the mysterium paschale, towards that light which breaks forth from Christ’s resurrection and reveals the definitive victory of love, joy and life over evil, suffering and death. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, Way of the Cross at the Colosseum 6 April 2012]

13. The great challenge of our time for believers and for all people of good will is that of maintaining truthful and free communication which will help consolidate integral progress in the world. Everyone should know how to foster an attentive discernment and constant vigilance, developing a healthy critical capacity regarding the persuasive force of the communications media.

Also in this field, believers in Christ know that they can count upon the help of the Holy Spirit. Such help is all the more necessary when one considers how greatly the obstacles intrinsic to communication can be increased by ideologies, by the desire for profit or for power, and by rivalries and conflicts between individuals and groups, and also because of human weakness and social troubles. The modern technologies increase to a remarkable extent the speed, quantity and accessibility of communication, but they above all do not favor that delicate exchange which takes place between mind and mind, between heart and heart, and which should characterize any communication at the service of solidarity and love.

Throughout the history of salvation, Christ presents himself to us as the “communicator” of the Father: “God, in these last days, has spoken to us through his Son” (Heb 1:2). The eternal Word made flesh, in communicating Himself, always shows respect for those who listen, teaches understanding of their situation and needs, is moved to compassion for their suffering and to a resolute determination to say to them only what they need to hear without imposition or compromise, deceit or manipulation. Jesus teaches that communication is a moral act, “A good person brings forth good out of a store of goodness, but an evil person brings forth evil out of a store of evil. I tell you, on the Day of Judgment people will render an account for every careless word they speak. By your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.” (Mt 12: 35-37)

14. The apostle Paul has a clear message for those engaged in communications (politicians, professional communicators, spectators), “Therefore, putting away falsehood, speak the truth, each one to his neighbor, for we are members one of another… No foul language should come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for needed edification, that it may impart grace to those who hear” (Eph 4: 25, 29).

To those working in communication, especially to believers involved in this important field of society, I extend the invitation which, from the beginning of my ministry as Pastor of the Universal Church, I have wished to express to the entire world “Do not be afraid!”

Do not be afraid of new technologies! These rank “among the marvelous things” – inter mirifica – which God has placed at our disposal to discover, to use and to make known the truth, also the truth about our dignity and about our destiny as his children, heirs of his eternal Kingdom.

Do not be afraid of being opposed by the world! Jesus has assured us, “I have conquered the world!” (Jn 16:33)

Do not be afraid even of your own weakness and inadequacy! The Divine Master has said, “I am with you always, until the end of the world” (Mt 28:20). Communicate the message of Christ’s hope, grace and love, keeping always alive, in this passing world, the eternal perspective of heaven, a perspective which no communications medium can ever directly communicate, “What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1Cor 2:9).

To Mary, who gave us the Word of life, and who kept his unchanging words in her heart, do I entrust the journey of the Church in today’s world. May the Blessed Virgin help us to communicate by every means the beauty and joy of life in Christ our Savior.

[Pope John Paul II, Apostolic Letter to those responsible for social communications, 24 January 2005]

“My hand shall ever abide with him, my arms also shall strengthen him” (Ps 89:21).

This is what the Lord means when he says: “I have found David, my servant; with my holy oil I have anointed him” (v. 20). It is also what our Father thinks whenever he “encounters” a priest. And he goes on to say: “My faithfulness and my steadfast love shall be with him… He shall cry to me, ‘You are my Father, my God and the rock of my salvation”’ (vv. 24, 26).

It is good to enter with the Psalmist into this monologue of our God. He is talking about us, his priests, his pastors. But it is not really a monologue, since he is not the only one speaking. The Father says to Jesus: “Your friends, those who love you, can say to me in a particular way: ‘You are my Father’” (cf. Jn 14:21). If the Lord is so concerned about helping us, it is because he knows that the task of anointing his faithful people is not easy, it is demanding; it can tire us. We experience this in so many ways: from the ordinary fatigue brought on by our daily apostolate to the weariness of sickness, death and even martyrdom.

The tiredness of priests! Do you know how often I think about this weariness which all of you experience? I think about it and I pray about it, often, especially when I am tired myself. I pray for you as you labour amid the people of God entrusted to your care, many of you in lonely and dangerous places. Our weariness, dear priests, is like incense which silently rises up to heaven (cf. Ps 141:2; Rev 8:3-4). Our weariness goes straight to the heart of the Father.

Know that the Blessed Virgin Mary is well aware of this tiredness and she brings it straight to the Lord. As our Mother, she knows when her children are weary, and this is her greatest concern. “Welcome! Rest, my child. We will speak afterwards…”. “Whenever we draw near to her, she says to us: “Am I not here with you, I who am your Mother?” (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 286). And to her Son she will say, as she did at Cana, “They have no wine” (Jn 2:3).

It can also happen that, whenever we feel weighed down by pastoral work, we can be tempted to rest however we please, as if rest were not itself a gift of God. We must not fall into this temptation. Our weariness is precious in the eyes of Jesus who embraces us and lifts us up. “Come to me, all who labour and are overburdened, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). Whenever a priest feels dead tired, yet is able to bow down in adoration and say: “Enough for today Lord”, and entrust himself to the Father, he knows that he will not fall but be renewed. The one who anoints God’s faithful people with oil is also himself anointed by the Lord: “He gives you a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit” (cf. Is 61:3).

Let us never forget that a key to fruitful priestly ministry lies in how we rest and in how we look at the way the Lord deals with our weariness. How difficult it is to learn how to rest! This says much about our trust and our ability to realize that that we too are sheep: we need the help of the Shepherd. A few questions can help us in this regard.

Do I know how to rest by accepting the love, gratitude and affection which I receive from God’s faithful people? Or, once my pastoral work is done, do I seek more refined relaxations, not those of the poor but those provided by a consumerist society? Is the Holy Spirit truly “rest in times of weariness” for me, or is he just someone who keeps me busy? Do I know how to seek help from a wise priest? Do I know how to take a break from myself, from the demands I make on myself, from my self-seeking and from my self-absorption? Do I know how to spend time with Jesus, with the Father, with the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph, with my patron saints, and to find rest in their demands, which are easy and light, and in their pleasures, for they delight to be in my company, and in their concerns and standards, which have only to do with the greater glory of God? Do I know how to rest from my enemies under the Lord’s protection? Am I preoccupied with how I should speak and act, or do I entrust myself to the Holy Spirit, who will teach me what I need to say in every situation? Do I worry needlessly, or, like Paul, do I find repose by saying: “I know him in whom I have placed my trust” (2 Tim 1:12)?

Let us return for a moment to what today’s liturgy describes as the work of the priest: to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim freedom to prisoners and healing to the blind, to offer liberation to the downtrodden and to announce the year of the Lord’s favour. Isaiah also mentions consoling the broken-hearted and comforting the afflicted.

These are not easy or purely mechanical jobs, like running an office, building a parish hall or laying out a soccer field for the young of the parish… The tasks of which Jesus speaks call for the ability to show compassion; our hearts are to be “moved” and fully engaged in carrying them out. We are to rejoice with couples who marry; we are to laugh with the children brought to the baptismal font; we are to accompany young fiancés and families; we are to suffer with those who receive the anointing of the sick in their hospital beds; we are to mourn with those burying a loved one… All these emotions…if we do not have an open heart, can exhaust the heart of a shepherd. For us priests, what happens in the lives of our people is not like a news bulletin: we know our people, we sense what is going on in their hearts. Our own heart, sharing in their suffering, feels “com-passion”, is exhausted, broken into a thousand pieces, moved and even “consumed” by the people. Take this, eat this… These are the words the priest of Jesus whispers repeatedly while caring for his faithful people: Take this, eat this; take this, drink this… In this way our priestly life is given over in service, in closeness to the People of God… and this always leaves us weary.

I wish to share with you some forms of weariness on which I have meditated.

There is what we can call “the weariness of people, the weariness of the crowd”. For the Lord, and for us, this can be exhausting – so the Gospel tells us – yet it is a good weariness, a fruitful and joyful exhaustion. The people who followed Jesus, the families which brought their children to him to be blessed, those who had been cured, those who came with their friends, the young people who were so excited about the Master… they did not even leave him time to eat. But the Lord never tired of being with people. On the contrary, he seemed renewed by their presence (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 11). This weariness in the midst of activity is a grace on which all priests can draw (cf. ibid., 279). And how beautiful it is! People love their priests, they want and need their shepherds! The faithful never leave us without something to do, unless we hide in our offices or go out in our cars wearing sun glasses. There is a good and healthy tiredness. It is the exhaustion of the priest who wears the smell of the sheep… but also smiles the smile of a father rejoicing in his children or grandchildren. It has nothing to do with those who wear expensive cologne and who look at others from afar and from above (cf. ibid., 97). We are the friends of the Bridegroom: this is our joy. If Jesus is shepherding the flock in our midst, we cannot be shepherds who are glum, plaintive or, even worse, bored. The smell of the sheep and the smile of a father…. Weary, yes, but with the joy of those who hear the Lord saying: “Come, O blessed of my Father” (Mt 25:34).

There is also the kind of weariness which we can call “the weariness of enemies”. The devil and his minions never sleep and, since their ears cannot bear to hear the word of God, they work tirelessly to silence that word and to distort it. Confronting them is more wearying. It involves not only doing good, with all the exertion this entails, but also defending the flock and oneself from evil (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 83). The evil one is far more astute than we are, and he is able to demolish in a moment what it took us years of patience to build up. Here we need to implore the grace to learn how to “offset” (and it is an important habit to acquire): to thwart evil without pulling up the good wheat, or presuming to protect like supermen what the Lord alone can protect. All this helps us not to let our guard down before the depths of iniquity, before the mockery of the wicked. In these situations of weariness, the Lord says to us: “Have courage! I have overcome the world!” (Jn 16:33). The word of God gives us strength.

And finally – I say finally lest you be too wearied by this homily itself! – there is also “weariness of ourselves” (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 277). This may be the most dangerous weariness of all. That is because the other two kinds come from being exposed, from going out of ourselves to anoint and to do battle (for our job is to care for others). But this third kind of weariness is more “self-referential”: it is dissatisfaction with oneself, but not the dissatisfaction of someone who directly confronts himself and serenely acknowledges his sinfulness and his need for God’s mercy, his help; such people ask for help and then move forward. Here we are speaking of a weariness associated with “wanting yet not wanting”, having given up everything but continuing to yearn for the fleshpots of Egypt, toying with the illusion of being something different. I like to call this kind of weariness “flirting with spiritual worldliness”. When we are alone, we realize how many areas of our life are steeped in this worldliness, so much so that we may feel that it can never be completely washed away. This can be a dangerous kind of weariness. The Book of Revelation shows us the reason for this weariness: “You have borne up for my sake and you have not grown weary. But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first” (Rev 2:3-4). Only love gives true rest. What is not loved becomes tiresome, and in time, brings about a harmful weariness.

The most profound and mysterious image of how the Lord deals with our pastoral tiredness is that, “having loved his own, he loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1): the scene of his washing the feet of his disciples. I like to think of this as the cleansing of discipleship. The Lord purifies the path of discipleship itself. He “gets involved” with us (Evangelii Gaudium, 24), becomes personally responsible for removing every stain, all that grimy, worldly smog which clings to us from the journey we make in his name.

From our feet, we can tell how the rest of our body is doing. The way we follow the Lord reveals how our heart is faring. The wounds on our feet, our sprains and our weariness, are signs of how we have followed him, of the paths we have taken in seeking the lost sheep and in leading the flock to green pastures and still waters (cf. ibid., 270). The Lord washes us and cleanses us of all the dirt our feet have accumulated in following him. This is something holy. Do not let your feet remain dirty. Like battle wounds, the Lord kisses them and washes away the grime of our labours.

Our discipleship itself is cleansed by Jesus, so that we can rightly feel “joyful”, “fulfilled”, “free of fear and guilt”, and impelled to go out “even to the ends of the earth, to every periphery”. In this way we can bring the good news to the most abandoned, knowing that “he is with us always, even to the end of the world”. And please, let us ask for the grace to learn how to be weary, but weary in the best of ways!

[Pope Francis, Chrism homily 2 April 2015]

Easter, Ascension. (There is evidence that He is Alive)

What is the fate, the trajectory of a life spent in faithfulness to a prophetic calling? The earthly outcome of Jesus - the faithful Son - would seem to be that of the failures of all times.

So is it worth being yourself? Wouldn’t it be more constructive to regulate oneself on the basis of personal convenience and group opportunism? 

In short, with the Easter and Ascension of Jesus, what has changed?

People continue as before to travel or stay still, to buy and sell, to work or party, to rejoice or weep...

But as in a landscape characterized by fog, suddenly the sun rises and we see clean profiles, enjoying the brilliance of colors, even shades.

A sharper Vision, in the experience of Faith.

Easter celebrates precisely a joy: it is the feast of those who realize that defeats do not remain dark sides. They hide disproportionate Gems.

A full flowering remains of our passage. And it’s not true that a destroyed or harassed existence is wasted or ends badly, leaving us orphans.

Rather, it sharpens listening and all perception. Thus we learn to welcome the reality of others and their-our unrepeatability.

We learn to dialogue with the raw reality and first of all with ourselves; so finally to honor God by respecting us in an integral way.

In Eastern icons, Passover is depicted as Descent to the Underworld: victory of the common woman and man [brought back to life].

Again in the icons, the Mystery of the Ascension is represented with two angels in white robes pointing out to the apostles the glorious nimbus of the Lord, seated on a throne.

As if to say: let’s contemplate where a life wasted according to men, but fulfilled according to the Father, has come.

Obeying our vocation uncompromisingly and wholly may seem imprudent, reckless. Instead, it is full self-respect, and leads us to our Homeland.

The nature of our fibres animated by the Inner Friend appeals not to social goals to be achieved, but to who we really are - and our profound Name unfolded in the path of Faith unfailingly accompanies us to the Cradle.

To allow oneself to be influenced and become external is to miss oneself and lose the Guide, ruining the completeness of being.

In spite of the apparent failure and reproaches that the personal and social unprecedented arouses, by listening to that unquenchable Fire that dwells within us, we realize life in an integral way.

If our attention is not on the scenery of what is happening around us, we can wince at the new awareness of an ongoing genesis of our personality and mission: a prototype and mode of ourselves that is mysteriously blossoming, and has value.

Unless we allow ourselves to be conditioned and overwhelmed by external interferences or calculations and circumstances around us, we sense that there is already a characterising track calling from the inside.

We intuit that we can be with ourselves and grow without foreclosures of unexpected, nor already commonly paradigmatic codes, because God expresses himself by creating renewed heavens within us and on earth.

Heaven: taking off without leaving. We are not alone. And the best is yet to Come.

P.S. Today, more than ever before, we are in the era of social showcases, which expose every aspect of history and news, even private ones.

When we value the aspect of the soul that communicates with the rinds of the achievements, we cut our heart off, or unbalance the mind with dominant thoughts, letting they be plagiarised by manipulators - even spiritual ones.

But the person who misplaces the Whole no longer follows the path that his Seed sings. It claims to express itself. Otherwise, we would proceed haphazardly or resort to clichés.

In short, we are not a judgement, an opinion, a crisis, a memory, but rather inventors of roads that tap into an ever springing Water.

Not to a well, nor to a swamp, where everything has already happened, but to a Source.

[Ascension of the Lord, June 1st, 2025]

Ascension of the Lord: We are not orphans

(Acts 1:1-11)

At the end of his Gospel, Lk places the Ascension of Jesus on the same day as Easter, in Bethany and in the perennial act of blessing (Lk 24:50-51) - with a form of presentation understandable according to the cosmological knowledge of the time.

The same is said in Acts 1, where the same editor situates the event after forty days [symbolising continuity with the teaching of Jesus: v.3] and on the Mount of Olives (cf. v.12).

Certainly, on Calvary Jesus had promised the unfortunate man who calls him by name: "Today with me you will be in Paradise" (Lk 23:43).

The evangelist and author of the Acts of the Apostles does not want to convey information, but rather a teaching in favour of the missionary fortunes of his churches - physically deprived of the Master.

Luke wishes to shake up and dissolve the doubts that had arisen in the communities, first of all about the meaning of the handover to the disciples, then about his Presence operating in the Spirit (vv.8.16).

He enlightens the third-generation followers about the mystery of the Lord's Passover, using images and a literary genre understandable to his contemporaries, mostly from the pagan world.

In a climate of living expectation, the apocalyptic writers announced the imminent coming of the Kingdom of God. And in the common mindset, the outpouring of the Spirit brought with it the inauguration of the last time.

From this conviction arose the hope of an immediate Manifestation (limited to Israel).

The Coming One and his new order of things would come amid cosmic upheavals: floods, earthquakes, purifying fire from heaven, the resurrection of the just and the beginning of a finally fulfilling world.

A climate of exaltation was also being created among some of the faithful, which, however, conflicted with the death of the Master and the delay of his expected glorious appearance.

Any speculation on the proximity of the end of the ancient world resulted in a fiasco.

This went so far as to expose itself to easy ironies [2 Peter 3:4: "They will say: Where is his coming, which he promised? From the day our fathers closed their eyes, all things remain as at the beginning of creation"].

But in the meantime, "Come Lord!" (Marana tha) was repeated in all the communities. But the years passed and events flowed on as before.

Daily life - like that of the empire - did not seem to change much.

In this disappointing situation, which questioned the members of the community about the depth of the Faith, Lk realised the misunderstanding: the Resurrection marked the beginning of the Kingdom, not the conclusion of history.

The new world is not built through shortcuts, sudden events, immediate situations, or by proxy - nor does it arise by imagining particularisms, which on the contrary had to be crumbled.

The times were and are always long, and the endeavour starts from scratch every day: no easy golden age; no definitively resolving character, guarantor of order and well-being - like the expected Messiah.

To correct false expectations (the colourful accounts of the apocrypha are decidedly fanciful) At describes the event of royal enthronement [Eph 1:20-22; Eph 4:8-10; Heb 9:24-28.10:19-21; cf. Ps 110, messianic par excellence] in a sober manner, and introduces it with the dialogue between the Risen Jesus and the Apostles.

Their question was the one that resounded on the lips of the disciples at the turn of the first century: "When?" (v.6).

The meaning of the text: this is not important, we just need not lose sight of the divine condition of the one judged by men but taken up to himself by the Father.

God is not interested in debates and curiosities: all that matters is the universal mission entrusted (vv.7-8).

The exact opposite of what was happening in some Christian realities, where some had even begun to neglect their daily duties.

Note that the Risen One addresses His own during the breaking of the Bread (cf. v.4) - while the Ascension scene moves to the Mount of Olives (vv.9-11.12).

Luke uses the biblical icon of Elijah's rapture (2 Kings 2:9-15) as a narrative backdrop to indicate that Christ pours out his Spirit and empowers his brethren to continue his mission in the world.

In fact, the book of Kings narrates of the works of the pupil Elisha: they were modelled on those of the master, Elijah.

The grandiose scenography used by the author of Acts should not be confusing: it is to clarify the meaning of the handover and the sending forth.

The victory of the Risen One is his people coming forth: such remains the access to the glory of the Father.

In the First Testament, the Cloud (v.9) indicated the divine presence in a certain place.

Luke employs such an image to indicate that Jesus' life was not a failure, but was accepted by God.

God's world [the two in white robes, the same ones at the tomb on Easter Day: Lk 24:4-6] proclaims him in truth Lord - although condemned by the authorities as an evildoer, a sinner, a curse.The "two men" (Lk 24:4) are probably Moses and Elijah - as in the Transfiguration (Lk 9:30) - i.e. the Law and the Prophets, fundamental witnesses that Christ is the Messenger from God.

The gaze turned towards heaven (vv.10-11) is instead that of the disciples who are still perhaps hoping for a "return" [a term never used in the Gospels] of Jesus, so that he may resume his work violently interrupted.

But the message "from heaven" (v.11) makes it clear that it will not be He who will bring His own Dream to fulfilment.

After the forty days [v.3: in the language of Judaism, a symbolic time necessary for the disciple's preparation] the followers have received the Spirit, the inner strength enriched by discernment.

This is on one condition, well understood by the Eastern icons, which in the mystery of the Ascension depict precisely two white-clothed angels pointing to the apostles the glorious nimbus of the Lord.

As in the story of Elijah's rapture, it is necessary for the disciples to "see" where a life given - even despised by men, yet blessed by the Father - has ended.

So it is worth it.

In this way, it is necessary for everyone to stop turning their little nose upwards, alienating themselves from the world: whatever it takes.

Indeed, possible only... "If you see me" (2 Kings 2:10).

In the Spirit, Vision-Faith fills our eyes with Heaven: it detaches us from the judgments of banal religiosity; it gives the intelligence of the folds of history, the impulse to face life face to face, the understanding of the astonishing fruitfulness of the Cross; the ability to grasp, activate and anticipate the future.

Hence the "great joy" (Lk 24:52) of the apostles, otherwise incomprehensible after a farewell.

«Dear brothers and sisters, the Lord, by opening the way to Heaven, gives us a foretaste of divine life already on this earth. A 20th century Russian author wrote in his spiritual testament: 'Look at the stars more often. When you have a burden on your soul, look at the stars or the blue of the sky. When you feel sad, when you are offended, ... entertain yourself ... with the sky. Then your soul will find stillness' (N. Valentini - L. Žák [ed.], Pavel A. Florensky. Do not forget me. Le lettere dal gulag del grande matematico, filosofo e sacerdote russo, Milano 2000, p. 418)».

[Pope Benedict, Regina Coeli 16 May 2010]

Ascension of the Lord

(Lk 24:46-53)

Lk interprets the Resurrection as the fulfilment of the First Covenant (vv.44-45): the whole history of Israel [like the stages of a journey] receives meaning and culmination in Christ, the key to the Scriptures.

Now the Passover expands in the sending of the Spirit (v.49) and is attested in the ecclesial Mission (vv.47-48).

The coming of the Spirit condenses and expands the Way of the Lord. By "ascending" to the Father, the Son gives us the strength to walk it, and it becomes ours.

In particular, the Mission is a testimony of the Christ's story; and of a change of mindset and forgiveness that is possible, open to the world.

All receive the grace of paths leading to reconciliation with men and communion with God. In fact, the emphasis falls on the figure of the blessing Jesus (vv.50-51).

"Ascension" stands for the depth of Easter, the goal of the development of history: the message of the Lord and the truth of his story are not a moment in the past.

From the height of the heavens (which precisely does not take us out of history) to the daily journey: Christ's experience becomes deep root and judgement, foundation and humus, truth and goal of our vicissitude.

The Ascension (not from the world, but with the world) glorifies humanity. It depicts the cosmic and universal dimension of the Resurrection - a new way of Heaven coming into human space, a perennial event.

What then is the destiny of a life spent in faithfulness to a prophetic vocation? The earthly outcome of Jesus - the faithful Son - would seem to be that of the failures of all times and of any culture, philosophy or religion.

Is it then worth it to be oneself? Wouldn't it be more constructive to regulate oneself on the basis of personal convenience and circle opportunism?

Easter celebrates a joy: it is the feast of those who realise that defeats do not remain dark, useless sides. They hide disproportionate gems.

Of our passing there remains a full bloom. And it is not true that a life vilified by bullies is wasted or ends badly.

In Eastern icons, Easter is depicted as Christ's Descent to the Underworld: victory of the common woman and man (Adam and Eve pulled up from their respective tombs).

Again in icons, the Mystery of the Ascension is depicted with two angels in white robes pointing out to the apostles the glorious nimbus of the Lord, seated on a throne.

As if to say: contemplate where a life wasted according to men but fulfilled according to the Father has come.

Obeying our Vocation uncompromisingly and wholly may seem imprudent and reckless. Instead, it is full self-respect and instinctive evaluation that leads us to our Fatherland.

The nature of our fibres animated by the Inner Friend appeals not to social goals to be achieved, but to who we really are - and the profound naturalness unfolded in the journey of Faith leads infallibly to the Cradle that corresponds to us.

To allow oneself to be influenced and become external is to lose one's bearings, ruining the wholeness of being in all those aspects that conformist thinking considers wrong and instead will sooner or later have to come into play to face real life and complete us - even in an unprecedented way.

In spite of the apparent failure and reproaches that the personal (and social or ecclesial) unusual arouses, by listening to our Calling by Name and that unquenchable Fire that dwells within us, we fulfil ourselves and others.

If our attention is not on the scenario of what once was or is happening around us, we recoil from the new awareness of an ongoing genesis of our personality and mission: a prototype and modality of ourselves that is mysteriously blossoming and having value.

Unless we allow ourselves to be conditioned by interference, overwhelmed by the plagiarism of established realities - or calculation of circumstances - we sense that there is a characterising track calling.

We realise that we can be with ourselves and grow without preclusions of the unexpected or already commonly paradigmatic criteria, because God does not express Himself by issuing saccharine regulations, but by creating renewed heavens within us and already on earth.

His language is unrepeatable for each person: life in the Spirit is not a matter of being retrograde or scapegoat - infecund fans.

In short, with Jesus' Easter and Ascension, what has changed? Apparently nothing, because people continue as before to travel or stand still, to buy and sell, to work or party, to rejoice or weep. That is the reality.

But as in a landscape characterised by fog... suddenly the sun rises and we see sharp contours, we enjoy the brilliance of colours, even shades. Personal isolation and the isolation of the steeple is shattered.

In fact [take for example the ending of Lk (which appears disconsolate)]: after Jesus has attempted to lead his own to the Exodus of Bethany (the community without pretended masters of the things of God; composed of only brothers and sisters - even coordinated by a woman, Martha) they willingly return to the ancient, Temple cult.

Spontaneously, the apostles would have found a compromise with the stagnant institution on which the Lord had pronounced himself with harsh expressions - and which had done him in with satisfaction.

This is why Easter Time does not end as one would perhaps expect with Ascension, but at Pentecost: the discovery of a Treasure and a vital Flame to be not withheld, but universal.

But in the meantime, this oscillation between an in and an out - a sitting (Lk 24:49: Greek text) and a leaving - conveys to us the right rhythm of Heaven.

Heaven that helps us come back into ourselves and avoid the homologising illusion of fashions or any club - they do not belong to us.

In short, in these Easter solemnities we are called to discover peripheries, distant realms, other ways of being in the field... but perhaps first to unveil a root of mystery, in those hidden sides of us - or hidden by the shadows - that must emerge to complete the personality.

Let us emancipate ourselves from the poverty of thought of the usual (ratified) era around: it also applies to spiritual conformism, which from the swampy energy of reassuring identification wants at all costs to leap into the full experience of personal Faith.

Even today in a world that shrinks young people into chat rooms and is increasingly distant from reality and nature, we want to sharpen listening and all perception (which develop character, the desire to coexist, the joy of living). 

We learn to broaden our spheres, to welcome the objectification of others, but in their-our unrepeatability, accentuating the codes of the inner world: we cannot stake our lives on a hypothetical mission, but on a strong identity yes - and one that does not crumble at the first landslide.

The soul orients itself towards its utopia (no longer narrow) and allows itself to be fertilised by that imagination that first feeds on the total real and then dives into the great ideals, even heroic ones - or pin-pointed ones.

We learn to dialogue with the concrete and integral human: our neighbour and ourselves. Thus finally honouring God by respecting ourselves in the round; accepting frailties, insecurities and fears: entirely our own.

To ascend is to find Heaven in us and in humanity: to take off without straying.

Easter, Ascension. Taking off without straying

There is evidence that He is Living

What is the fate of a life spent in faithfulness to a prophetic calling?

The earthly outcome of Jesus - the faithful Son - would seem to be that of failures of all times and of any culture, philosophy or religion.

Is it then worth it to be oneself?

Would it not be more constructive to regulate oneself on the basis of personal convenience and group opportunism?

Easter celebrates a joy: it is the feast of those who realise that defeats do not remain dark sides. They hide disproportionate gems.

Of our passing there remains a full flowering. And it is not true that a broken life is wasted or ends badly.

In Eastern icons, Easter is depicted as Descent to the Underworld: victory of the common woman and man.

Again in icons, the Mystery of the Ascension is usually depicted with two angels in white robes pointing out to the Apostles the glorious nimbus of the Lord, seated on a throne.

As if to say: contemplate where a life wasted according to men but fulfilled according to the Father has come.

Obeying our Call without compromise and in an integral manner may seem imprudent and reckless. Instead, it is full self-respect, and leads us to our Fatherland.

The nature of our fibres animated by the Inner Friend appeals not to social goals to be achieved, but to who we really are.

And our deep identity unfolded in the path of Faith leads infallibly to the Cradle of Being.

To allow oneself to be influenced and become external is to lose the guidance, ruining the completeness of innate abilities.

In spite of the apparent failure and reproaches that the personal and social unseen arouses, by heeding our Calling by Name and that unquenchable Fire that dwells within us, we realise life.

Today, more than ever before, we are in the age of social showcases, which expose every aspect of even personal history and news.

But the trunk, branches, flowers, buds and fruits are born from the roots. They live well hidden.

Our Heaven is intertwined with our earth and our dust: it is inside and below, not behind the clouds.

If there is no time for accurate perception and intimate reflection, there is no way to be reborn to the Newness of God.

In all the folds of going, even spiritual, we become more and more sensitive to the comments and judgements that come in real time.

Having become full members of the society of the epidermis, we lose the meridian, often the ability to evolve and grow others.

Not discovering the secret side that inhabits us, we become discouraged.

Losing our gaze in the meanderings of diffuse and all-out judgment, we lose the capacity to gestate the personal Jesus, and we no longer give birth to him.

At most, one will make him resemble a paradigmatic semblance of him; perhaps convincing that he is indeed the one, all exterior.

In this way, the Lord becomes a Jesus in the opinion of others, around him; of the group, of the patronal banners; or that of the 'live' [the opinion of those who make the audience].

If we value the aspect of the soul that communicates with the rinds of the targets, we cut it off or unbalance it with dominant thoughts, allowing it to be plagiarised by manipulators - even spiritual ones.

But the heart that loses the whole no longer guides the soul in what characterises the Vocation and our Seed.

The inward pretends to express itself. We proceed in vain, or in cliché.

We are not a judgement, an opinion, a crisis, a memory, but rather inventors of paths that draw from ever springing water.

Not from a well, nor from a swamp, where everything has already happened - but from a Source.

If our attention is not on the conformist scenery of what once was or around is happening, we wince at the new awareness of a genesis in action.

A re-birth of our personality and mission: a prototype and mode of ourselves that is mysteriously blossoming and having value.

Unless we allow ourselves to be conditioned and overwhelmed by cultural interference or calculation of circumstances, we sense that there is a characterising track calling us.

We realise that we can be with ourselves and grow without preclusions of the unexpected, or already commonly paradigmatic codes.

Because God does not express Himself by issuing all-encompassing regulations, but by creating renewed heavens within us and already on earth.

In short, with Jesus' Easter and Ascension, what has changed?

Apparently nothing, because people continue as before to travel or stay put, to buy and sell, to work or party, to rejoice or weep...

And yet, as in a landscape of fog, suddenly the sun rises and we see sharp profiles, we enjoy the brilliance of colours, even shades.

We sharpen our hearing and all perception.

We learn to accept the objectification of others and their-our unrepeatability.

We learn to dialogue with reality and first of all with ourselves; thus finally honouring the Eternal, respecting ourselves integrally.

Heaven: taking off without straying. We are not alone. And the best is yet to come.