“How are we to buy bread, so that these people may eat?"

Before the multitude which has followed him from the shores of the Sea of Galilee to the mountains in order to listen to his word, Jesus begins, with this question, the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves. This is the significant prelude to the long speech in which he reveals himself to the world as the real Bread of life which came down from heaven (cf. Jn 6:41).

1. We have listened to the evangelical narration: with five barley loaves and two fish, offered by a boy, Jesus feeds about five thousand people. But the latter, not understanding the depth of the "sign" in which they have been involved, are convinced that they have at last found the King-Messiah, who will solve the political and economic problems of their nation. Before this obtuse misunderstanding of his mission, Jesus withdraws, all alone, to the mountains.

We, too, beloved Brothers and Sisters, have followed Jesus and continue to follow him. But we can and must ask ourselves "With what interior attitude?" With the true one of faith, which Jesus expected of the Apostles and of the multitude that he had fed, or with an attitude of incomprehension? Jesus presented himself on that occasion like, in fact more than, Moses who had fed the people of Israel in the desert during the Exodus. He presented himself like, in fact more than, Elisha, who had fed a hundred persons with twenty loaves of barley and grain. Jesus manifested himself, and manifests himself to us today, as the One who is capable of satisfying for ever the hunger of our hearts: "I am the bread of life; he who comes to me shall not hunger, and he who believes in me shall never thirst." (Jn 6:33)

And man, especially modern man, is so hungry: hungry for truth, justice, love, peace, beauty; but, above all, hungry for God. "We must hunger for God!", St Augustine exclaims ("famelici Dei esse debemus": Enarrat. in psal. 146, n. 17,: PL 37, 1895 f.). It is he, the heavenly Father, who gives us the true bread!

2. This bread, which we need, is first and foremost Christ, who gives himself to us in the sacramental signs of the Eucharist, and makes us hear, at every Mass, the words of the last Supper: "Take and eat, all of you: this is my body offered in sacrifice for you." In the sacrament of the eucharistic bread—the Second Vatican Council affirms —"the unity of all believers who form one body in Christ (cf. I Cor 10:17) is both expressed and brought about. All men are called to this union with Christ, who is the light of the world, from whom we go forth, through whom we live, and toward whom our journey leads us." (Lumen Gentium, 3.)

The bread that we need is, moreover, the Word of God, because "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God" (Mt 4:4; cf. Dt 8:3). Certainly, men, too, can express and utter words of high value. But history shows us how the words of men are sometimes insufficient, ambiguous, disappointing, biased; while the Word of God is full of truth (cf. 2 Sam 7:28; 1 Cor 17:26); it is upright (Psalms 33:4); it is stable and remains for ever (cf. Psalms 119:89; 1 Pet 1:25).

We must listen religiously to this Word continually; assume it as the criterion of our way of thinking and acting; get to know it, by means of assiduous reading and personal meditation; but especially, we must day after day, in all our behaviour, make it ours, put it into practice,

The bread we need, finally, is grace; and we must invoke it, ask for it with sincere humility and tireless constancy, well aware that it is the most precious thing we can possess.

3. The path of our life, laid out for us by God's providential love, is a mysterious one, sometimes incomprehensible on the human plane, and nearly always hard and difficult. But the Father gives us the bread from heaven" (cf. In 6:32), to encourage us in our pilgrimage on earth.

I am happy to conclude with a passage from St Augustine, which sums up admirably that upon which we have meditated: "We can understand very well... how your Eucharist is daily food. The faithful know, in fact, what they receive and it is good that they should receive the daily bread necessary for this time. They pray for themselves, to become good, to be persevering in goodness, faith, and a good life... the Word of God, which is explained to us and, in a certain sense, broken, every day, is also daily bread" (Sermo 58, IV: PL 38, 395).

May Christ Jesus always multiply his bread, also for us!

Amen!

[Pope John Paul II, homily 29 July 1979]

This Sunday’s Gospel presents to us the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves (see Mt 14,13-21). The scene takes place in a deserted place, where Jesus had retired with His disciples. But the people found Him so as to listen to Him and to be healed: indeed, His words and His gestures restore and bring hope. At sundown, the crowd was still present and the disciples, practical men, invited Jesus to send them away so that they could go and find something to eat. But He answered: “You give them something to eat” (v. 16). We can imagine the disciples’ faces! Jesus was well aware of what He was about to do, but He wanted to change their attitude: not to say, “send them away,” “let them fend for themselves”, “let them find something to eat”, but rather, “what does Providence offer us to share?” These are two opposite ways of behaving. And Jesus wants to bring them to the second way of behaving because the first proposal is that of the practical person, but is not generous: “send them away so they can go and find, let them fend for themselves.” Jesus thinks another way. Jesus wants to use this situation to educate His friends, both then and now, about God’s logic. And what is God’s logic that we see here? The logic of taking responsibility for others. The logic of not washing one’s hands, the logic of not looking the other way. No. The logic of taking responsibility for others. That “let them fend for themselves” should not enter into the Christian vocabulary.

As soon as one of the Twelve says, realistically, “We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish”, Jesus answers, “Bring them here to me” (vv. 17-18). He takes the food in His hands, raises His eyes heavenward, recites the blessing and begins to break it and  give the pieces to the disciples to hand out. And those loaves and fish did not run out; there was enough, and plenty left over for thousands of people.

With this gesture, Jesus demonstrates His power; not in a spectacular way but as a sign of charity, of God the Father’s generosity toward His weary and needy children. He is immersed in the life of His people, He understands their fatigue and their limitations, but He does not allow anyone to be lost, or to lose out: He nourishes them with His word and provides food in plenty for sustenance.

In this Gospel passage we can perceive a reference to the Eucharist, especially in the description of the blessing, the breaking of the bread, delivery to the disciples, and distribution to the people (v. 19). It is noteworthy how close the link is between the Eucharistic bread, nourishment for eternal life, and daily bread, necessary for earthly life. Before offering Himself to the Father as the Bread of salvation, Jesus ensures there is food for those who follow Him and who, in order to be with Him, forgot to make provisions. At times the spiritual and the material are in opposition, but in reality spiritualism, like materialism, is alien to the Bible. It is not biblical language.

The compassion and tenderness that Jesus showed towards the crowds is not sentimentality, but rather the concrete manifestation of the love that cares for the people’s needs. And we are called to approach the Eucharistic table with these same attitudes of Jesus: compassion for the needs of others, this word that is repeated in the Gospel when Jesus sees a problem, an illness or these people without food… “He had compassion.” “He had compassion”. Compassion is not a purely material feeling; true compassion is patire con [to suffer with], to take others’ sorrows on ourselves. Perhaps it would do us good today to ask ourselves: Do I feel compassion when I read news about war, about hunger, about the pandemic? So many things… Do I feel compassion toward those people? Do I feel compassion toward the people who are near to me? Am I capable of suffering with them, or do I look the other way, or “they can fend for themselves”? Let us not forget this word “compassion,” which is trust in the provident love of the Father, and means courageous sharing.

May Mary Most Holy help us to walk the path that the Lord shows us in today's Gospel. It is the journey of fraternity, which is essential in order to face the poverty and suffering of this world, especially in this tragic moment, and which projects us beyond the world itself, because it is a journey that begins with God and returns to God.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 2 August 2020]

Prophecy, Revelation

(Mt 14:1-12)

Those who are cloaked in luster and power become ambitious, bold and willing to any violence for a false point of honor.

The courageous who denounces abuse is cut off, but the voice of his martyrdom will no longer be silent. That is why the episode does not induce Jesus to greater prudence.

Tyrants mock the isolated, uncomfortable and defenceless, but leaders and powerful are also cowards: they do not intend to alienate popular fame from themselves.

Besides being spineless, here Herod Antipas appears superstitious, even influenced by Hellenistic beliefs about the reappearance of the dead.

In addition, he thought of the men of God as doers of “miracles” - an ambiguous term, which some new translations avoid (cf. v.2).

Jesus never attended the new Herodian capital, Tiberias, the city of court palaces, built in diplomatic homage to the Roman emperor - after Sepphoris, where Jesus also worked.

Generic and confusing religiosity can adapt to every season and be made their own even by those who think that the others’ lives are worth nothing, but a Prophet does not settle on the whim of corrupt systems.

In the Palestinian villages the life of the people was harassed by taxes and abuses of landowners [who did not even reside on the spot] and controlled by the perfect combination of interests between civil and religious power.

The leaders of the popular faith, orthodox, subordinate and “befitting”, were at leash of the authorities on the territory. They considered themselves definitive, and found strength in the coalition.

It seemed absurd that in that society someone dared to break through the omertous wall that guaranteed the troublemakers - the guides, the bullies even of the lowest level - to consider themselves untouchable.

Faced with the blackmail (without too many compliments) of the privileged who had control of every social and cultural class, it seemed impossible to start a new path, or say and do anything not aligned.

The question of "Jesus, Who is he?» grows throughout the Gospels.

The statement of people's opinions (e.g. Mt 14:1-2; Mk 6:14-16; Lk 9:7-9) suggests that even around the first assemblies of believers there was an attempt to understand Christ from what was already known [from the criteria of Scripture and tradition, from ancient - even superstitious - beliefs and suggestions].

But the man of God is not simply a purifier of the Temple, nor a patchworker of conformist religiosity. He overturns popular, emotional or standard hopes.

In this way, each Prophet troubles all the “rank and file” characters, who hold the exclusiveness.

John and Jesus challenge and attract upon themselves the revenge of those who try to perpetuate the prerogatives of the old cosmos, and the wrath of those who are exposed in their hypocrisies.

It is the real difficulty that the Proclamation of the New Kingdom in the world encounters. 

His contemptuous refusal and each assassination attempt will be a litmus test of our singular and renewed testimony, the revelation of which will run parallel to the Two.

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

We see this great figure, this force in the Passion, in resistance to the powerful. We wonder: what gave birth to this life, to this interiority so strong, so upright, so consistent, spent so totally for God in preparing the way for Jesus? The answer is simple: it was born from the relationship with God, from prayer, which was the thread that guided him throughout his existence. John was the divine gift for which his parents Zechariah and Elizabeth had been praying for so many years (cf. Lk 1:13); a great gift, humanly impossible to hope for, because they were both advanced in years and Elizabeth was barren (cf. Lk 1:7); yet nothing is impossible to God (cf. Lk 1:36). The announcement of this birth happened precisely in the place of prayer, in the temple of Jerusalem, indeed it happened when Zechariah had the great privilege of entering the holiest place in the temple to offer incense to the Lord (cf. Lk 1:8-20). John the Baptist’s birth was also marked by prayer: the Benedictus, the hymn of joy, praise and thanksgiving which Zechariah raises to the Lord and which we recite every morning in Lauds, exalts God’s action in history and prophetically indicates the mission of their son John: to go before the Son of God made flesh to prepare his ways (cf. Lk 1:67-79).

The entire existence of the Forerunner of Jesus was nourished by his relationship with God, particularly the period he spent in desert regions (cf. Lk 1:80). The desert regions are places of temptation but also where man acquires a sense of his own poverty because once deprived of material support and security, he understands that the only steadfast reference point is God himself. John the Baptist, however, is not only a man of prayer, in permanent contact with God, but also a guide in this relationship. The Evangelist Luke, recalling the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples, the Our Father, notes that the request was formulated by the disciples in these words: “Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his own disciples” (cf. Lk 11:1).

Dear brothers and sisters, celebrating the martyrdom of St John the Baptist reminds us too, Christians of this time, that with love for Christ, for his words and for the Truth, we cannot stoop to compromises. The Truth is Truth; there are no compromises. Christian life demands, so to speak, the “martyrdom” of daily fidelity to the Gospel, the courage, that is, to let Christ grow within us and let him be the One who guides our thought and our actions. However, this can happen in our life only if we have a solid relationship with God. Prayer is not time wasted, it does not take away time from our activities, even apostolic activities, but exactly the opposite is true: only if we are able to have a faithful, constant and trusting life of prayer will God himself give us the ability and strength to live happily and serenely, to surmount difficulties and to witness courageously to him. St John the Baptist, intercede for us, that we may be ever able to preserve the primacy of God in our life. Thank you.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 29 August 2012]

1. [...] Christian tradition commemorates the martyrdom of St John the Baptist; the Messiah himself says in praise of him: "none born of woman is greater" (cf. Lk 7: 28). He gave to God the supreme witness of his blood, sacrificing his life for truth and justice; indeed, his head was cut off at the orders of Herod, whom he had dared to tell that it was not lawful to take his brother's wife (cf. Mc 6: 17-29).

2. In the Encyclical Veritatis Splendor, recalling the sacrifice of John the Baptist (cf. n. 91), I observed that martyrdom is "an outstanding sign of the holiness of the Church" (n. 93). Indeed, it "represents the high point of the witness to moral truth" (ibid.).

Although relatively few are called to make this supreme sacrifice, it is nonetheless "a consistent witness which all Christians must daily be ready to make, even at the cost of suffering and grave sacrifice" (ibid.). At times, a truly heroic effort is also needed in daily life, in order not to give in to the difficulties that are an incentive to compromise and to live the Gospel "sine glossa".

3. The heroic example of John the Baptist reminds us of the martyrs for the faith who down the centuries followed courageously in his footsteps. I recall in particular the multitude of Christians in the last century who were also victims of religious hatred in various European nations. Today too, in some parts of the world, believers are still subjected to harsh trials for adhering to Christ and his Church.

May these brothers and sisters of ours feel the full solidarity of the entire Ecclesial Community! Let us entrust them to the Blessed Virgin, Queen of Martyrs, whom we call on together.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus 29 August 2004]

A man, John, and a road, which is that of Jesus, indicated by the Baptist, but is also ours, in which we are all called at the moment of trial.

It starts from the figure of John, "the great John: in the words of Jesus "the greatest man born of a woman"" the reflection of Pope Francis in the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Friday 6 February. The Gospel of Mark (6:14-29) recounts the imprisonment and martyrdom of this "man faithful to his mission; the man who suffered many temptations" and who "never, never betrayed his vocation". A man 'faithful' and 'of great authority, respected by all: the great of that time'.

Pope Francis paused to analyse his figure: 'What came out of his mouth was right. His heart was just'. He was so great that "Jesus will also say of him that 'it is Elijah who has returned, to clean the house, to prepare the way'". And John "was conscious that his duty was only to proclaim: to announce the proximity of the Messiah. He was conscious, as St Augustine makes us reflect, that he was the voice only, the Word was another'. Even when "he was tempted to "rob" this truth, he remained just: "I am not, behind me comes, but I am not: I am the servant; I am the servant; I am the one who opens the doors, so that he may come".

At this point the Pontiff introduced the concept of the way, because, he recalled, 'John is the forerunner: forerunner not only of the Lord's entry into public life, but of the Lord's entire life'. The Baptist 'goes forward in the Lord's way; he bears witness to the Lord not only by showing him - "This is it!" - but also by bringing life to the end as the Lord has brought it'. And by ending his life "with martyrdom" he was "a forerunner of the life and death of Jesus Christ".

The Pope went on to reflect on these parallel paths along which "the great" suffers "many trials and becomes small, small, small to the point of contempt". John, like Jesus, "annihilates himself, he knows the road of annihilation. John, with all that authority, thinking about his life, comparing it with that of Jesus, tells people who he is, what his life will be like: 'It is better for him to grow, I instead must diminish'". This, the Pope stressed, is "the life of John: to diminish before Christ, so that Christ may grow". It is "the life of the servant who makes room, makes way for the Lord to come".

John's life "was not easy": in fact, "when Jesus began his public life", he was "close to the Essenes, that is, to the observants of the law, but also of prayers, of penances". Thus, at a certain point, during the time he was in prison, 'he suffered the ordeal of darkness, of the night in his soul'. And that scene, Francis commented, 'moves one: the great, the greatest sends two disciples to Jesus to ask him: "But John asks you: is it you, or have I made a mistake and must we wait for another?" Along John's path therefore came 'the darkness of error, the darkness of a life burnt in error. And this was a cross for him".

To John's question "Jesus answers with the words of Isaiah": the Baptist "understands, but his heart remains in darkness". Nevertheless he lends himself to the demands of the king, 'who liked to hear him, who liked to lead an adulterous life', and 'almost became a court preacher, of this perplexed king'. But "he humbled himself" because "he thought he was converting this man".

Finally, the Pope said, 'after this purification, after this continual descent into annihilation, making way for the annihilation of Jesus, his life ends'. That king from being perplexed 'becomes capable of a decision, but not because his heart has been converted'; rather 'because the wine gives him courage'.

And so John ends his life 'under the authority of a mediocre, drunken and corrupt king, at the whim of a dancer and the vengeful hatred of an adulteress'. Thus 'ends the great, the greatest man born of woman', commented Francis, who confessed: 'When I read this passage, I am moved'. And he added a useful consideration for the spiritual life of every Christian: "I think of two things: first, I think of our martyrs, the martyrs of our days, those men, women, children who are persecuted, hated, driven from their homes, tortured, massacred". And this, he stressed, 'is not a thing of the past: this happens today. Our martyrs, who end their lives under the corrupt authority of people who hate Jesus Christ'. Therefore, "it is good for us to think about our martyrs. Today we think of Paul Miki, but that was in the 1600s. Let us think of those of today, of 2015".

The Pontiff went on to add that this passage also prompts him to reflect on himself: 'I too will end. All of us will end. No one's life is 'bought'. We too, willingly or unwillingly, go down the road of the existential annihilation of life'. And this, he said, prompts him "to pray that this annihilation resembles Jesus Christ, his annihilation, as much as possible".

This closes the circle of Francis' meditation: 'John, the great, who continually diminishes to nothingness; the martyrs, who diminish today, in our Church of today, to nothingness; and we, who are on this road and going towards the earth, where we will all end'. In this sense the Pope's final prayer: "May the Lord enlighten us, make us understand this road of John, the forerunner of the road of Jesus; and the road of Jesus, who teaches us how ours should be."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 07.02.2015]

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [26 July 2026]

First Reading from the First Book of Kings (3:5, 7–12)

This passage from the First Book of Kings recounts the first great celebration of the reign of Solomon, David’s successor on the throne of Jerusalem. After his coronation, Solomon went to the sanctuary at Gibeon to offer a great sacrifice and there uttered a prayer that would become a model for all Israel.

However, the historical context shows that Solomon was not a perfect man. His accession to the throne was marked by dynastic struggles, political intrigues and violence. Although he was one of David’s youngest sons, he managed to secure power thanks to the rivalries among his elder brothers and the decisive intervention of his mother, Bathsheba. After his coronation, he swiftly eliminated his opponents. Therefore, his renowned wisdom was not an innate quality, but a gift received from God. True wisdom thus emerges as the most precious of all goods. Once in power, Solomon realised the difficulty of governing. This realisation represents the first sign of his wisdom. He recognised that the most precious good is not wealth or power, but wisdom, and that it comes only from God. In his prayer, he presents himself with humility: ‘I am a young and inexperienced man; grant your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between good and evil.’ His request recalls the hidden treasure and the precious pearl of which Jesus will speak in the Gospel (Mt 13:44–46): wisdom is worth more than any other good. Here is a lesson for all those who govern. The second lesson concerns not only kings, but anyone who exercises authority. Solomon does not ask for personal advantages, a long life, riches or victory over his enemies. He asks only for what is necessary to serve the people entrusted to him. In this, he shows that he has understood the ideal of the monarchy of Israel: the ruler must not seek his own interests, but the good and safety of the people. The prophets, beginning with Nathan, constantly reminded the kings of Israel of this mission. God’s response is generous: He appreciates the selflessness of the request and responds by granting Solomon a wise and discerning heart, superior to that of all other kings; by giving him the ability to discern and govern justly; and, furthermore, by granting him what he had not asked for: wealth, glory and prestige. This reveals God’s generosity: those who seek His will above all else also receive other gifts in addition. The theme echoes Jesus’ teaching: ‘Seek first the Kingdom of God, and all these things will be given to you as well’ (Mt 6:33).

Responsorial Psalm (118/119)

In the First Reading, Solomon, at the beginning of his reign, had grasped the essential truth: true wisdom is the most precious treasure and can come only from God. 

He continues in the psalm: ‘The law from your mouth is more precious to me than thousands of pieces of gold and silver.’ And the psalmist adds: ‘How wonderful are your commandments; that is why I keep them!’ For the believer, faithfulness to the commandments is a delight, not a burden. This psalm is a litany of love for the Law; today’s verses are just a short stanza from a very long psalm: 176 verses = 22 stanzas of 8 verses each.  Why 22 stanzas? Because there are 22 letters in the Hebrew alphabet. Each stanza is an ‘acrostic’: all 8 verses begin with the same letter, and the stanzas follow the alphabetical order from Alef to Tav.  This is not literary virtuosity. It is a true profession of faith: a poem in honour of the Law, a meditation on the gift of God that is the commandments. Rather than a ‘psalm’, it is a litany in honour of the Law. It may sound strange to us, but that is how it is. In the Bible, to love the Law is to love the Father’s gift; this is why the biblical believer truly loves the Law. The commandments are not endured as God’s dominion over us, but as advice—the only valid advice for living happily. When the biblical person says this, they mean it with all their heart. And the Law is not endured as dominion; it is received as a gift that God gives to his people to warn them against all false paths. It is said that God ‘gives’ his Law, and it is indeed regarded as a ‘gift’. God did not merely free Israel from slavery in Egypt. By giving his Law, God has, in a sense, provided the ‘user’s manual’ for freedom. The Torah is an expression of God’s love for his people. If God is Love, his Law leads to love.  We did not have to wait for the New Testament to discover that God is Love and that the Law has but one purpose: to lead us along the path of love. The entire Bible is the story of the chosen people’s learning, in the school of brotherly love, from Deuteronomy (Dt 6:4) to Leviticus (Lv 19:18).  The famous Rabbi Hillel, who lived from 70 BC to 10 AD, said: ‘Do not do to your neighbour what you would hate for yourself: this is the whole of the Torah; the rest is commentary. Go and study.’ He also said: ‘Do not judge your neighbour until you have been in his place.’ Jesus takes the same line: the two commandments of love for God and for one’s neighbour sum up the whole Law. And the Golden Rule echoes this as follows: ‘Do to others whatever you would have them do to you: for this is the Law and the Prophets’ (Mt 7:12). Finally, this psalm resembles a litany: after the first three verses, which affirm the happiness of those faithful to the Law, the remaining 173 verses address God directly, at times in a contemplative tone, at others in supplication: ‘Open my eyes, that I may see the wonders of your Law’ (v. 18), and the litany continues, almost always repeating the same phrases. In Hebrew, eight identical words recur throughout all the stanzas to describe the Law: Law, Word, Precepts, Statutes, Commandments, Judgements, Promises, Ways. Only lovers repeat themselves like this without ever tiring. Nor is the number 8 coincidental: in the Bible, it is the number of the new creation. God created the first Creation in seven days; therefore, the eighth day will be that of the renewed Creation, of the ‘new heavens and new earth’. This will finally come to pass when all humanity lives according to God’s Law—that is, in love—because they are one and the same. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:28–30)

For weeks now we have been reading chapter eight of the Letter to the Romans: Paul contemplates the whole of human history as a long journey towards a magnificent future. One day we shall be like Jesus Christ, in his image, and we shall be one with him.  This is God’s plan: ‘God calls those he loves according to his plan’ (Rom 8:28), with the best commentary: ‘God chose you from the very beginning for salvation, through the Holy Spirit who sanctifies and through faith in the truth. For this is what he has called you to through our Gospel, so that you may share in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ’ (2 Thessalonians 2:13–14). This plan, which culminates in union with Christ, is the work of the Spirit, made possible by our free participation. Paul puts it even more simply: ‘God calls you to his Kingdom and to his glory’ (1 Thessalonians 2:12). We are on a journey towards the transformation of our whole being, a ‘shaping’ that will mould us in the image of Christ.  Earlier, Paul had compared this transformation to a birth: ‘The whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth’ (Rom 8:22). Here we see the image of entering into a great family: God has ‘predestined us to be conformed to the image of his Son, so that he might be the firstborn among many brothers’ (Rom 8:29).  Shortly before, he had called us “children of God” and had continued: “If we are children, then we are also heirs: heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ” (Rom 8:17). To God’s invitation to take part in this great plan, we respond with faith and trust. It is often said: “Man proposes, God disposes”, but here Paul says the opposite: ‘God proposes, man disposes’. God does not impose his plan on us; he proposes it to us. From the very beginnings of Revelation, we hear God calling humankind and proposing his Covenant to us, as if God were tirelessly repeating: ‘Love me, trust me, for I love you’. And this plan of God depends on our freedom.  In today’s passage, the freedom to accept or refuse is expressed as follows: ‘Moreover, we know that all things work together for good for those who love God, for those who are called according to his purpose’ (Rom 8:2).  The verb ‘to love’ indicates man’s free response to God’s proposal. It is not a feeling, it is an impulse, it is the adherence of ‘faith’ . Yet we remain free not to love God. In Paul’s vocabulary, we are all ‘known, called, justified, and brought into his glory’, provided we accept him. And he describes the journey of those who wish to enter into this plan of salvation.  First, God sent his Son (Col 1:18). Thus, those who respond to God’s love resemble that Son who fulfilled the Father’s will for salvation: predestined, called, justified, glorified—that is, brought into perfect harmony with God, made partakers of his divine nature, already welcomed into his glory. It is no surprise that Paul concludes immediately afterwards: ‘What more can be said?’ Rom 8:31.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:44–52)

In this passage from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus presents four brief parables to explain the meaning of the Kingdom of Heaven: the hidden treasure, the pearl of great price, the net cast into the sea, and the householder who brings out of his treasure things both new and old. The treasure and the pearl: the absolute value of the Kingdom. The first two parables convey the same message: a man discovers a treasure hidden in a field; a merchant finds a pearl of exceptional value. In both cases, the protagonists sell everything they own to acquire that unique treasure. This act of renunciation is not experienced as a loss, but as a joy, because the value of the treasure infinitely surpasses that of everything else. Jesus teaches that the Kingdom of God is the greatest good that exists. Those who discover it realise that it is worth more than any earthly wealth, security or success. The net and the final judgement. The third parable describes a bountiful catch. Once the net has been hauled ashore, the fishermen separate the good fish from the bad. Jesus applies this image to the Last Judgement: at the end of time, there will be a definitive distinction between what belongs to the Kingdom and what opposes it. As in the parable of the wheat and the tares, however, it is not simply a matter of dividing people into two rigid categories. Good and evil coexist within every person’s heart. The parable highlights the gravity of human choices: one cannot serve both God and other ‘masters’ at the same time. This is why Jesus continually calls for conversion: ‘Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near.’ The same teaching emerges in his encounter with the rich young man: called to leave everything to follow Christ and gain a treasure in heaven, he is unable to give up his securities and goes away sad. These parables show that following Christ requires concrete decisions. There are no half-measures: every choice must be assessed in the light of the Kingdom of God. To welcome the Kingdom means being willing to let go of whatever prevents one from fully adhering to God’s will, just as one who sells everything to acquire the treasure or the pearl—a treasure both ancient and new. After asking his disciples whether they had understood his teaching, Jesus adds a fourth parable: ‘Every scribe who has become a disciple of the Kingdom of Heaven is like a householder who brings out of his treasure things both new and old.’ The scribes had a profound knowledge of the Old Testament Scriptures. However, in order to welcome the Kingdom proclaimed by Jesus, they had to open themselves to the newness of his revelation without losing the heritage they had received. The true disciple cherishes both: the treasure of the Old Covenant and the newness brought by Jesus Christ. This is why Jesus affirms: ‘I have not come to abolish the Law and the Prophets, but to bring them to fulfilment.’ The Old and New Testaments are not opposed to one another: the former prepares and announces, the latter realises and brings to fulfilment. Knowing both constitutes the true treasure of the Christian faith. The life of Paul of Tarsus represents a living synthesis of these parables. Having enjoyed prestige as a Jew and a Pharisee, he regards all that as a loss compared with the knowledge of Christ. In his letter to the Philippians, he states that every human privilege pales in comparison with the gift of Christ, for which he was willing to lose everything. Ultimately, the four parables converge on a single teaching: the Kingdom of God is the supreme treasure; it is worth giving up everything to obtain it; our choices have decisive consequences; the disciple must embrace both the richness of the Old Covenant and the newness of Christ; true wisdom lies in recognising that nothing is of greater value than communion with God. The ‘treasure hunt’ of which Jesus speaks is not the pursuit of material goods, but the discovery of the Kingdom, a treasure so great that it renders everything else secondary.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Divine in Human: strong, dignified and fraternal gestures, not repertoire

(Mt 13:54-58)

The Divine in the Human makes itself Present in the intense, welcoming relationships that open up inexplicable recoveries; then it leaks out in the strong, dignified and fraternal gestures - not repertoire.

In today's Gospel passage there is a significant difference with some earlier translations (vv.54.58).

The Lord helps us to grow with true «wonders», not with “miracles” [punctual events] but by working within, changing the shrunken heart and improving us with his Love.

The «prophetic» has nothing to do with the sensational.

Only in this way will one not grow weary of the good that is not brilliant; nor will one despise the existence of ordinary people because they lack prestige and titles.

Jesus' powerful works unfold over time - by educating, not impressing and subduing.

His 'signs', those inexplicable recoveries he performs, are the calibre and fruit of a growing Encounter-through-the-Way.

Work of Art (far better than accidental shortcuts) is for the profiteer to become righteous, the doubter to become more confident, the unhappy to resume hope.

It takes time, though astonishment can be immediate.

The Mystery of the power of the new God announced by Christ is hidden in 'Someone inside something'.

It is the web where the Signs of a great Reality nestle, to which despite the difficulties we have access and in which we participate.

The Person of Jesus tells of a Father who does not fear that his holiness is endangered by contact with the world.

The higher Mystery is already in the common man.

So the conflict is not with outsiders, but with the usual stubborn 'neighbours' full of prejudice - habitual and habituated, who already know how it ends... But they inaugurate nothing.

Instead, the Son is no longer a “local child”: a quiet programme of the «village», the product of normal archaic ideas or of already transmitted intentions, which no Encounter will be able to arouse and move.

In his homeland, the Master does not astound as elsewhere: He encounters a diffidence that wears down of days all counted that protrusion of the believing that would fill indigence.

Faith, on the other hand, encompasses what cuts through the impossible Dream of Novelty: our boasting is not from social status, nor from established gender.

It grasps its specific weight not in the folklore, but precisely in regenerating - through the incessant reactivation of intrinsic interest.

In this way, Faith is not rhetoric. It realizes that the state of doubt is more fruitful than conviction.

How does one become a non-people?

Certainties leave no breathing space for the inventiveness of unusual doing, nor for the feeling or growth of strong Life, not disfigured by the repertoire of expected accomplishments.

To internalize and live the message:

How does your ordinary existence redeem the vicissitudes of shaky people?

How do you live the more of the Faith over habits and commonplaces?

[Friday, 17th wk. in O.T.   July 31, 2026]

Divine in Human: strong, dignified and fraternal gestures, not repertoire

(Mt 13:54-58)

"Christians are a priestly people for the world. Christians should make the living God visible to the world, bear witness to Him and lead it to Him. When we speak of this common commission of ours, as we are baptised, this is not a reason to boast about it. It is a question that both gives us joy and troubles us: are we truly God's sanctuary in the world and for the world? Do we open up access to God to men, or rather hide it? Have we not - God's people - largely become a people of unbelief and distance from God? Is it not true that the West, the core countries of Christianity, are tired of their faith and, bored with their own history and culture, no longer want to know faith in Jesus Christ? We have reason to cry out to God in this hour: "Do not let us become a non-people! Let us recognise you again! For you anointed us with your love, you placed your Holy Spirit upon us. Let the power of your Spirit become effective in us again, so that we may joyfully bear witness to your message!"

[Pope Benedict, homily 21 April 2011].

The Divine in the Human makes itself Present in the intense, welcoming relationships that open up inexplicable recoveries; then it leaks out in the strong, dignified and fraternal gestures - not in repertoire.

In today's Gospel passage there is a significant difference with the previous CEI translation ('74) (vv.54.58).

The Lord helps us to grow with true 'prodigies', not with 'miracles' [punctual events] but by working in our innermost being, changing our shrunken hearts and improving us with his Love.

The "prophetic" has nothing to do with the sensational.

Only in this way will we not grow weary of the good that is not brilliant; nor will we despise the existence of ordinary people because they lack prestige and titles.

The powerful works of Jesus unfold over time - educating, not impressing and subduing.

His 'signs', those inexplicable recoveries he performs, are the calibre and fruit of a growing Encounter-for-The-Way.

A work of art (far better than accidental shortcuts) is that the profiteer becomes righteous, the doubter more secure, the unhappy person regains hope.

It takes time, though astonishment can be immediate.

The Mystery of the power of the new God announced by Christ is hidden in 'Someone within something'.

It is the plot where the Signs of a great Reality nestle, to which despite the difficulties we have access and are sharers.

The Person of Jesus tells of a Father who does not fear that his holiness is endangered by contact with the world.

The sovereign Mystery is already in the common man.

So the conflict is not with outsiders, but with the usual stubborn 'neighbours' full of prejudice - habitual and habituated, who already know how it ends... But they inaugurate nothing.

Instead, the Son is no longer a local child: a quiet programme of the 'village', the product of normal archaic ideas or already transmitted intentions, which no encounter will be able to arouse and stir up.

At home, the Master does not astound as elsewhere: he encounters a diffidence that wears down with days all counted that protrusion of belief that would fill indigence.

Faith, on the other hand, understands what cuts through the impossible Dream of Novelty: our boast is not from social status, nor from established gender.

It grasps its own specific weight not in the folklore, but precisely in regenerating - by the incessant reactivation of intrinsic interest.

In this way, Faith is not rhetoric: it realises that the state of doubt is more fruitful than conviction.

How does one become a non-people?

Certainties leave no breathing space for the inventiveness of the unusual, nor for the feeling or growth of strong Life, not disfigured by the repertoire of expected fulfilments.

To internalise and live the message:

How does your ordinary existence redeem the affairs of shaky people?

How do you live the more of Faith over habits and commonplaces?

Expectations, misunderstandings - and the spirit of the valley

(Mk 6:1-6)

Domestic side, not domestication

Where Faith is lacking only small changes occur, not the astounding wonders of the alternative presence of the Kingdom of God:

"And he could do no mighty work there, except that having laid hands on a few sick ones, he healed" (v.5).

We do not realise that the Lord could come from humble, dishonourable beginnings, as ours might be - devoid of great dynastic ties, or violent class jumps.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (vi):

"The spirit of the valley does not die [...] it is used, but it does not tire". Master Wang Pi comments:

'The spirit of the valley is the non-valley at the centre of the valley. It has no form or shadow, nothing contrasts and nothing rejects, it remains at the bottom without moving, it keeps quiet without fading. The valley is completed by it, yet its form cannot be seen: this is the most perfect model'.

Like the Wisdom codes of nature, Faith in Christ bids farewell to the idea prevalent in institutional, representative and top-down cultures and religions.

All unwilling, in their great knowledge, to deal with the normality of life that flows.

Jesus avoids rigid or grandiose models. He gives himself with simplicity to his people and aims at the formation of authentic believers.

Their trust must be placed solely in the Kingdom of God - a dimension that truly breaks the balance, because it enters into day-to-day existence and ferments it from invisible roots.

As an envoy of the Father, he would like all the people to be builders and standard bearers of other dreams - but in his home village he feels as if blocked by those who are incapable of deciphering the dimension of the divine in the human.

He has to face the obtuse incomprehension of the centres of power, but also the very failures and hopes - quiet or divisive - of the popular reality that frequents the places of worship.

The villagers expected the usual blessings (by now addicted) or perhaps a charismatic leader to fight against the Romans - and here they would gladly use the flames of religious identity to inflame their spirits.

They would have accepted a warlike captain, reflecting archaic beliefs - instead they find themselves disappointed with the inapparent reality before their eyes.

They do not know how to discover God's plot in the history of the least.

Conversely, there are many divine signs inscribed in what is summarily manifested: warnings that can help us discover the not purely earthly dimension of things, relationships, presences, and so on.

Many misunderstand the spirit of strength that Faith transmits to us.

It breaks balances because it does not offer guarantees that have already been imagined - but it is at bottom domestic and all natural [each Seed has its own particular destiny and development].

How then is the boy they have known from birth so different?

Because there is no equation between what one thinks conformistically, and the Lord. Not even by emphasising intentions.

Both great expectations and proximity can be an obstacle to a daily knowledge of what is extraordinary behind the ordinary dimension of events and people.

Even many brothers or collaborators of Saints have failed to grasp the exceptionality of a common life lived in fidelity and dedication to their Calling by Name. All the more real as it is less conspicuous.

The incomprehension and village jealousy of those who live next door and chase after a god of their own - disfigured - is a source of bitterness; but it does not stop us.

The experience of rejection prompts a change of direction (v.6b).

The soul lives under the sign of Oneness that renounces preconception, the quiet life, simple approval, easy success.

And closed doors can be an added value! They open us to the soul's journey in the Spirit, to the eccentric Announcement, to the amazing Mission.

Unfortunately, we register another kind of spirit in the 'valley' - of a totally negative sign, which in the work of evangelisation and community animation is identified with the pastoral of consent [I will give you what you want].

The astute coordinator manages relations with the faithful, the masses and the institutions with extreme shrewdness, as well as expectations - concrete, immediate - of approval and individual or circle advantage.

At times, some leaders (even church leaders) seem to be nothing more than skilful storytellers: they do not fight the dehumanising structures, nor the powerful on the ground. On the contrary, they try to make allies of them, to win easily.

Even in the time of global crisis, the conviction persists that educational, cultural and 'religious' structures can only go on with the external support of power hierarchies, and the established order. Or with the search for more 'signs' and as many wonders.

Unfortunately, such a downward, outward-looking attitude - out of weariness, which is widespread - does not amount to the enhancement of the most varied and intimate Gifts of God in people, nor to the promotion of the Kingdom.

It is obvious then that those who frequent the palace do not like incendiaries: those who hold titles and a glorious role remain impervious to the work of the Spirit who makes all things new.

[Every opportunist unfortunately remains tied to the chains of command, to the old tactical balances that have guaranteed him career, position, lustre, visibility, easy security on the side].

Perhaps the worst aspect of this downward and normal common denominator game is the cheap identification between order guaranteed by the Gospel and current equilibrium.

An illusion of external harmony between the Beatitudes proclaimed by the Lord and opportunities for a quiet life, or gain, and social recognition.Thus the principles experienced first-hand by the Master are subverted by some followers, in an opaque strategy that ends up distorting the Glad Tidings in favour of every lost one.

And each shaky though unsatisfied person spontaneously tends to adapt to the small certainties they find, offered by the rhetoric of even great narratives.

Even today, on the other hand, the Word of God sparks off the easy appeal of such dynamics and structures of authentic 'sin': it threatens them in no uncertain terms.

Indeed, they seize souls, make them conformist, indifferent to injustice, fearful of freedom - and tend to take even the God of the Exodus hostage.

The Father, however, continues to raise up eccentric prophets: they make us all more capable of perceiving the genius of the age. As well as the personal talents deployed - even amidst the irritated threats of 'countrymen' caught up in levelling marketing.

Advertisers who risk being left without protection or lineage, of course.

But who refuse to affix ready-made seals to the spirit of mediocrity that annoys no one.

To internalise and live the Word, let us ask ourselves:

What has changed in your journey since you began to live more intensely in adherence to Christ? How has your environment reacted?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

I would like to reflect briefly on this Sunday’s Gospel passage. It is taken from the text that has the famous saying “Nemo propheta in patria”. In other words no prophet is properly accepted among his own people who watched him grow up (cf. Mk 6:4). Indeed after Jesus, when he was about 30 years old, had left Nazareth and had already been travelling about preaching and working miracles of healing elsewhere, he once returned to his birthplace and started teaching in the synagogue. His fellow citizens “were astonished” by his wisdom, and knowing him as “the son of Mary”, as the carpenter who had lived in their midst, instead of welcoming him with faith were shocked and took offence (cf. Mk 6:2-3). This reaction is understandable because familiarity at the human level makes it difficult to go beyond this in order to be open to the divine dimension. That this son of a carpenter was the Son of God was hard for them to believe. Jesus actually takes as an example the experience of the prophets of Israel, who in their own homeland were an object of contempt, and identifies himself with them. Due to this spiritual closure Jesus “could do no mighty work there [Nazareth], except that he laid his hands upon a few sick people and healed them” (Mk 6:5). In fact Christ’s miracles are not a display of power but signs of the love of God that is brought into being wherever it encounters reciprocated human faith. Origen writes: “as in the case of material things there exists in some things a natural attraction towards some other thing, as in the magnet for iron... so there is an attraction in such faith towards the divine power” (Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, 10, 19).

It would therefore seem that Jesus—as is said—is making sense of the negative welcome he received in Nazareth. Instead, at the end of the account, we find a remark that says precisely the opposite. The Evangelist writes that Jesus “marvelled because of their unbelief” (Mk 6:6). The astonishment of Jesus’ fellow townspeople is matched by his own surprise. In a certain sense he too is shocked! Although he knows that no prophet is well accepted in his homeland, the closed heart of his people was nevertheless obscure and impenetrable to him: how could they fail to recognize the light of the Truth? Why did they not open themselves to the goodness of God who deigned to share in our humanity? Effectively Jesus of Nazareth the man is the transparency of God, in him God dwells fully. And while we are constantly seeking other signs, other miracles, we do not realize that he is the true Sign, God made flesh, he is the greatest miracle in the world: the whole of God’s love contained in a human heart, in a man’s face.

The One who fully understood this reality was the Virgin Mary, who is blessed because she believed (cf. Lk 1:45). Mary was not shocked by her Son: her wonder for him was full of faith, full of love and joy, in seeing him so human and at the same time so divine. Let us therefore learn from her, our Mother in faith, to recognize in the humanity of Christ the perfect revelation of God.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 8 July 2012]