38. The true measure of humanity is essentially determined in relationship to suffering and to the sufferer. This holds true both for the individual and for society. A society unable to accept its suffering members and incapable of helping to share their suffering and to bear it inwardly through “com-passion” is a cruel and inhuman society. Yet society cannot accept its suffering members and support them in their trials unless individuals are capable of doing so themselves; moreover, the individual cannot accept another's suffering unless he personally is able to find meaning in suffering, a path of purification and growth in maturity, a journey of hope. Indeed, to accept the “other” who suffers, means that I take up his suffering in such a way that it becomes mine also. Because it has now become a shared suffering, though, in which another person is present, this suffering is penetrated by the light of love. The Latin word con-solatio, “consolation”, expresses this beautifully. It suggests being with the other in his solitude, so that it ceases to be solitude. Furthermore, the capacity to accept suffering for the sake of goodness, truth and justice is an essential criterion of humanity, because if my own well-being and safety are ultimately more important than truth and justice, then the power of the stronger prevails, then violence and untruth reign supreme. Truth and justice must stand above my comfort and physical well-being, or else my life itself becomes a lie. In the end, even the “yes” to love is a source of suffering, because love always requires expropriations of my “I”, in which I allow myself to be pruned and wounded. Love simply cannot exist without this painful renunciation of myself, for otherwise it becomes pure selfishness and thereby ceases to be love.

[Spe salvi]

1. The "miracles and signs" that Jesus performed to confirm his messianic mission and the coming of the kingdom of God are ordered and closely linked to the call to faith. This call in relation to the miracle has two forms: faith precedes the miracle, indeed it is a condition for it to take place; faith constitutes an effect of the miracle, because it is provoked by it in the souls of those who received it, or witnessed it.

It is well known that faith is man's response to the word of divine revelation. The miracle occurs in organic connection with this revealing word of God. It is a 'sign' of his presence and working, a sign, one might say, that is particularly intense. All this sufficiently explains the special link that exists between the "miracle-signs" of Christ and faith: a link so clearly delineated in the Gospels.

2. There is in fact a long series of texts in the Gospels in which the call to faith appears as an indispensable and systematic coefficient of Christ's miracles.

At the beginning of this series are the pages concerning the Mother of Christ in her behaviour at Cana of Galilee, and before that - and above all - at the moment of the annunciation. One could say that it is precisely here that one finds the high point of her adherence to the faith, which will find its confirmation in the words of Elizabeth during the visitation: 'And blessed is she who believed in the fulfilment of the words of the Lord' (Lk 1:45). Yes, Mary believed like no other, being convinced that "nothing is impossible to God" (cf. Lk 1:37).

And at Cana of Galilee her faith anticipated, in a certain sense, the hour of Christ's revelation. Through his intercession, that first miracle-sign took place, thanks to which Jesus' disciples "believed in him" (Jn 2:11). If the Second Vatican Council teaches that Mary constantly precedes the people of God on the paths of faith (cf. Lumen Gentium, 58.63; Ioannis Pauli PP. II, Redemptoris Mater, 5-6), we can say that the first foundation of this assertion is already found in the Gospel, which reports "miracle-signs" in Mary and for Mary in relation to the call to faith.

3. This call is repeated many times . . To the leader of the synagogue, Jairus, who came to ask for his daughter's return to life, Jesus says: "Do not be afraid, only continue to have faith!" (and he says "do not be afraid" because some advised Jairus against turning to Jesus) (Mk 5:36).

When the father of the epileptic asks for the healing of his son, saying: "But if you can anything . . . help us", Jesus replies: "If you can! Everything is possible for those who believe". Then we have the beautiful act of faith in Christ of this tried man: "I believe, help me in my unbelief!" (cf. Mk 9:22-24).

Finally, we recall Jesus' well-known conversation with Martha before the resurrection of Lazarus: "I am the resurrection and the life . . . Do you believe this? . . Yes, O Lord, I believe . . ." (cf. Jn 11:25-27).

4. The same link between the "miracle-sign" and faith is confirmed by other negative facts. Let us recall some of them. In Mark's Gospel we read that Jesus in Nazareth "could perform no miracle, but only laid hands on a few sick people and healed them. And he marvelled at their unbelief" (Mk 6:5-6).

We know the gentle rebuke Jesus once addressed to Peter: "Man of little faith, why did you doubt?". This happened when Peter, who at first went boldly on the waves towards Jesus, then by the violence of the wind became afraid and began to sink" (cf. Mt 14:29-31).

5. Jesus emphasises more than once that the miracle he performed is linked to faith. "Your faith has healed you", he says to the woman who had been suffering from haemorrhaging for twelve years and who, when she came up behind him, touched the hem of his cloak and was healed (cf. Mt 9:20-22; Lk 8:48; Mk 5:34).

Similar words Jesus pronounced while healing blind Bartimaeus, who at the exit from Jericho insistently asked for his help, crying out: "Son of David, Jesus, have mercy on me!" (cf. Mk 10, 46-52). According to Mark: "Go, your faith has saved you", Jesus answers him. And Luke specifies the answer: "Have sight again! Your faith has saved you" (Lk 18:42).

He makes an identical statement to the Samaritan healed of leprosy (Lk 17:19). While to two other blind men pleading to regain their sight, Jesus asks: "Do you believe that I can do this?" "Yes, O Lord!" . "Let it be done to you according to your faith" (Mt 9:28-29).

6. Particularly touching is the episode of the Canaanite woman, who did not cease to ask Jesus' help for her daughter "cruelly tormented by a demon". When the Canaanite woman prostrated herself before Jesus to ask him for help, he replied: 'It is not good to take the bread of the children to throw it to the little dogs' (this was a reminder of the ethnic diversity between Israelites and Canaanites, which Jesus, son of David, could not ignore in his practical behaviour, but to which he alluded in a methodological function to provoke faith). And here the woman intuitively comes to an unusual act of faith and humility. She says: 'It is true, Lord . . . but even little dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table'. Faced with such a humble, gracious and confident word, Jesus replies: 'Woman, truly great is your faith! May it be done to you as you wish" (cf. Mt 15:21-28).

It is an event difficult to forget, especially when one thinks of the countless "Canaanites" of every time, country, colour and social condition, who reach out their hand to ask for understanding and help in their needs!

7. Note how in the Gospel narrative it is continually emphasised that Jesus, when he "sees faith", performs the miracle. This is clearly stated in the case of the paralytic lowered to his feet through the opening in the roof (cf. Mk 2:5; Mt 9:2; Lk 5:20). But the observation can be made in many other cases recorded by the evangelists. The factor of faith is indispensable; but as soon as it occurs, the heart of Jesus is outstretched to fulfil the requests of the needy who turn to him for help with his divine power.

8. Once again we see that, as we said at the beginning, the miracle is a "sign" of God's power and love that saves man in Christ. But because of this, it is at the same time a call to man to faith. It must lead both the one who is miraculously saved and the witnesses of the miracle to believe.

This applies to the apostles themselves, right from the first "sign" given by Jesus in Cana of Galilee: it was then that they "believed in him" (John 2: 11). Then, when the miraculous multiplication of the loaves took place near Capernaum, with which the heralding of the Eucharist is connected, the evangelist notes that "from then on, many of his disciples turned back and no longer went with him", not being able to accept a language that seemed too "harsh" to them. Jesus then asked the Twelve: "Perhaps you also want to leave?". Peter answered, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words to eternal life, we have believed and known that you are the Holy One of God" (cf. Jn 6:66-69). The principle of faith is thus fundamental in the relationship with Christ, both as a condition for obtaining the miracle and as the purpose for which it is performed. This is made very clear at the end of John's Gospel, where we read: "Many other signs did Jesus do in the presence of his disciples, but they were not written in this book. These have been written, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and so that, believing, you may have life in his name" (John 20: 30-31).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 16 December 1987]

We are the 'dream of God' who, as a true lover, wants to 'change our lives'. Out of love indeed. He only asks us to have the faith to let him do it. And so "we can only weep with joy" before a God who "re-creates" us, said Pope Francis in the Mass celebrated on Monday 16 March, in the chapel of the Casa Santa Marta.

In the first reading, taken from Isaiah (65:17-21), "the Lord tells us that he creates new heavens and new earths, that is, he 're-creates' things," Francis pointed out, also recalling that "several times we have spoken of these 'two creations' of God: the first, the one that was made in six days, and the second, when the Lord 'remakes' the world, ruined by sin, in Jesus Christ." And, he pointed out, "we have said many times that this second is more wonderful than the first". In fact, the Pope explained, 'the first is already a marvellous creation; but the second, in Christ, is even more marvellous'.

In his meditation, however, Francis chose to dwell "on another aspect", starting precisely from the passage from Isaiah in which, he explained, "the Lord speaks of what he will make: a new heaven, a new earth". And "we find that the Lord has such enthusiasm: he speaks of joy and says one word: 'I will enjoy my people'". In essence, 'the Lord thinks about what he is going to do, he thinks that he, himself, will be in joy with his people'. So 'it is as if it were a "dream" of the Lord, as if the Lord "dreamed" of us: how good it will be when we will all be together, when we will be there or when that person, that other person will walk...'.

Further clarifying his reasoning, Francis resorted to "a metaphor that can make us understand: it is as if a girl with her fiancé or a boy with his fiancée thought: when we will be together, when we will get married...". Here, indeed, is 'the "dream" of God: God thinks of each of us, he loves us, he dreams of us, he dreams of the joy he will enjoy with us'. And it is precisely 'for this that the Lord wants to "re-create" us, to "re-create" our heart to make joy triumph'.

All this led the Pope to suggest some questions: "Have you ever thought: does the Lord dream of me? Does he think of me? Am I in the mind, in the heart of the Lord? Is the Lord able to change my life?". Isaiah, Francis added, also tells us that the Lord "makes many plans: we will build houses, we will plant vineyards, we will eat together: all those plans typical of a lover".

Moreover, "the Lord shows himself in love with his people" going so far as to say: "But I have not chosen you because you are the strongest, greatest, most powerful; but I have chosen you because you are the least of all". More, "one could say: the most miserable of all. But I have chosen you in this way, and this is love'.

"From there," said the Pope, "this continuous desire of the Lord, this desire of his to change our lives. And we can say, if we listen to this invitation from the Lord: 'You have changed my lament into a dance'", that is, the words "that we prayed" in Psalm 29. "I will exalt you, Lord, because you have lifted me up", the psalm goes on to say, thus recognising that the Lord "is capable of changing us, out of love: he is in love with us".

"I believe there is no theologian who can explain this: it cannot be explained," Francis remarked. Because 'on this one can only reflect, feel and weep with joy: the Lord can change us'. At this point the question arises: what should I do? The answer is clear: 'Believe, believe that the Lord can change me, that he can'. Exactly what the king's official who had a sick son in Capernaum did, as John recounts in his Gospel (4:43-54). That man, we read, asked Jesus "to come down and heal his son, because he was about to die". And Jesus answered him: "Go, your son lives!". So that father 'believed the word that Jesus had told him and set out: he believed, he believed that Jesus had the power to heal his child. And he was right'.

"Faith," Francis explained, "is making space for this love of God; it is making space for the power, the power of God, the power of one who loves me, who is in love with me and who desires joy with me. This is faith. This is believing: it is making room for the Lord to come and change me".

The Pope concluded with a significant note: "It is curious: this was the second miracle that Jesus performed. And he did it in the same place where he did the first one, at Cana of Galilee". Indeed, in today's Gospel passage we read: "He went therefore again to Cana of Galilee, where he had changed water into wine". Again "at Cana of Galilee he also changed the death of this child into life". Truly, Francis said, 'the Lord can change us, he wants to change us, he loves to change us. And this, out of love'. To us, he concluded, "he asks only for our faith: that is, to give space to his love so that he can act and make a change of life in us".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 16-17/03/2015]

(Lk 15:1-3.11-32)

Love is a Feast, not an exchange of favors. So we aren’t marked for life, because the Father knows that our paradoxical escapes are dictated by a need (or legitimate fixation): to breathe.

And we must be proud of ourselves.

Inside our “Home” there is no freedom, because older brothers are sometimes unbearable.

They impose performance, they understand everything, and check for any comma; they imagine that everyone should receive a salary according to merit, rhythm, ability, effort, overtime hours, and «Yessir».

Grim about everything, they whine only because they imagine that one has to ask permission from authority even to rejoice in life and make noise for free. Their “duty and obey” kills Tenderness.

The Father, on the other hand, prevents us from feeling degraded, so He does not want to listen to the list of transgressions that the "pure" doesn’t know but imagines and foolishly spells out, because he represses them inside and in secret cultivates [identifying them with pleasure!].

He does not want us to make the mistake that ruins the whole of life and not just a few stretches of the path: to feel like wage earners. Thus He educates to let good prevail over evil, without demeaning anyone.

Everywhere we find a master who exploits. And even if we only return Home out of calculation, God prevents us from getting down on our knees.

We recite the Lord's Prayer standing: with Him we are always valiant face to face, and He likes «symphonies and choirs».

Tao Tê Ching (x) says: «Preserve the One by abiding in the two souls: are you capable of not making them separate?».

Contradiction inhabits each of us and the merciful Father doesn’t call anyone to wear inner or outer straitjackets according to perfection.

He doesn’t intend to absorb the life even of our subtleties and nuances, nor to reduce the coexistence of faces.

He knows that the evolution of each is combined with a varied experiential language, capable at its time of combining ancient wealth, personal inclinations, even momentary ones, and unexpected novelties.

If we deny the soul’s universe and the multitude of its antinomies, idioms, and co-present characters - like the two sons both contradictory but ultimately complementary - we would never have all the prospects for a growth in life and for the evolution in expressive strength of the Faith.

In the Artwork of the Spirit, Richness’ Opportunities for all, and... no one humiliated.

Everyone now free. How wonderful, such a monstrance! A living Body of Christ that smells of Sharing!

This is the beautiful and royal awareness that smoothes out and makes the content of the Announcement credible (vv.1-2).

Henceforth, the distinction ‘believers and non-believers’ will be much deeper than between the pure and the impure: a whole different caliber - and the beginning of a life as saved people.

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the discombobulated son and the precise one (in us), i.e. the more rubricistic - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character (the rigid one and the distracted one).

He will even make them flourish: they will become indispensable and winning aspects of the future testimony.

Tao Tê Ching [xlv] says: «Great straightness is like sinuosity, great skill is like ineptitude, great eloquence is like stammering».

To internalize and live the message:

When do I take myself hypocritical and close-hearted? When do I realize instead of being the protagonist of what the Father shares?

[4th Sunday in Lent (year C), March 30, 2025]

Lk 15:1-3.11-32 (15:1-32)

Value of imperfect uniqueness

A God in search of the lost and unequal, to expand our life

(Lk 15:1-10)

Why does Jesus speak of Joy in reference to the one sheep?

Says the Tao Tê Ching (x): "Preserve the One by dwelling in the two souls: are you able to keep them apart?"

Even in the spiritual journey, Jesus is careful not to propose a dictated or planned universalism, as if his were an ideal model, "for the purpose of homogenisation" (Brothers All No.100).

The type of Communion that the Lord proposes to us does not aim at "a one-dimensional uniformity that seeks to eliminate all differences and traditions in a superficial search for unity".

Because "the future is not 'monochromatic' but if we have the courage, it is possible to look at it in the variety and diversity of the contributions that each one can make. How much our human family needs to learn to live together in harmony and peace without us all being equal!" (from an Address to Young People in Tokyo, November 2019).

Although the piety and hope of the representatives of official religiosity was founded on a structure of human, ethnic, cultural securities and a vision of the Mystery consolidated by a great tradition, Jesus crumbles all predictability.

In the Son, God is revealed no longer as exclusive property, but as the Power of Love that forgives the marginalised and lost: saving and creating, liberating. And through the disciples, he unfolds his Face that recovers, breaks down the usual barriers, calls out to miserable multitudes.

It seems an impossible utopia to realise in concrete terms (today of the health and global crisis), but it is the sense of the handover to the Church, called to become an incessant prod of the Infinite and ferment of an alternative world, for integral human development:

"Let us dream as one humanity, as wayfarers made of the same human flesh, as children of this same earth that is home to us all, each with the richness of his faith or convictions, each with his own voice, all brothers!" (FT no.8).

Through an absurd question (phrased rhetorically) Jesus wants to awaken the conscience of the 'righteous': there is a counterpart of us that supposes of itself, very dangerous, because it leads to exclusion, to abandonment.

Instead, inexhaustible Love seeks. And it finds the imperfect and restless.

The swamp of stagnant energy that is generated by accentuating boundaries does not make anyone grow: it locks in the usual positions and leaves everyone to make do or lose themselves. Out of self-interested disinterest - that impoverishes everyone.

This made the creative virtues fall into despair.

And it plunged those who were outside the circle of the elect - anterior ones who had nothing superior. In fact, Luke portrays them as utterly incapable of beaming with human joy at the progress of others.

Calculating, acting and conforming - the leaders (fundamentalist or sophisticated) are ignorant of reality, and use religion as a weapon.

Instead, God is at the antipodes of the fake sterilised - or disembodied thinking - and looking for the one who wanders shakily, easily becomes disoriented, loses his way. 

Sinful yet true, therefore more disposed to genuine Love. This is why the Father is searching for the insufficient.

The person who is so limpid and spontaneous - even if weak - hides his best part and vocational richness precisely behind his apparently detestable sides. Perhaps that he himself does not appreciate.

This is the principle of Redemption that astounds and makes interesting our often distracted paths, conducted by trial and error - in Faith, however, generating self-esteem, credit, fullness and joy.

The commitment of the purifier and the impetus of the reformer are 'trades' that seemingly oppose each other, but are easy... and typical of those who think that the things to be challenged and changed are always outside themselves.

For example, in mechanisms, in general rules, in the legal framework, in worldviews, in formal (or histrionic) aspects instead of the craft of the concrete particular good; and so on.

They seem to be excuses not to look inside oneself and get involved, not to meet one's deepest states in all aspects and not only in the guidelines. And to recover or cheer up individuals who are concretely lost, sad, in all dark and difficult sides.

But God is at the antipodes of sterilised mannerists or fake idealists, and in search of the insufficient: he who wanders and loses his way. Sinful yet true, therefore more disposed to genuine Love.

The transparent and spontaneous person - even if weak - hides his best part and vocational richness precisely behind the apparently detestable aspects (perhaps which he himself does not appreciate).

So let us ask for solutions to the mysterious, unpredictable interpersonal energies that come into play; from within things.Without interfering with or opposing ideas of the past or future that we do not see. Rather by possessing its soul, its spontaneous drug.

This is the principle of Salvation that astounds and makes interesting our paths [often distracted, led by trial and error] - ultimately generating self-esteem, credit and joy.

The idea that the Most High is a notary or prince of a forum, and makes a clear distinction between righteous and transgressors, is caricature.

After all, a life of the saved is not one's own making, nor is it exclusive possession or private ownership - which turns into duplicity.

It is not the squeamish attitude, nor the cerebral attitude, that unites one to Him. The Father does not blandish suppliant friendships, nor does He have outside interests.

He rejoices with everyone, and it is need that draws Him to us. So let us not be afraid to let Him find us and bring us back (v.5)... to His house, which is our house.

If there is a loss, there will be a finding, and this is no loss to anyone - except to the envious enemies of freedom (v.2).

For the LORD is not pleased with marginalisation, nor does he intend to extinguish the smoking lamp.

Jesus does not come to point the finger at the bad times, but to make up for them, by leveraging intimate involvement. Invincible force of faithfulness.

This is the style of a Church with a Sacred Heart, lovable, elevated and blessed.

[What attracts one to participate and express oneself is to feel understood, restored to full dignity - not condemned].

Carlo Carretto said: 'It is by feeling loved, not criticised, that man begins his journey of transformation'.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises again:

Jesus - our Engine and Motive - "had an open heart, which made the dramas of others its own" (n.84).

And he adds as an example of our great Tradition:

"People can develop certain attitudes which they present as moral values: fortitude, sobriety, industriousness and other virtues. But in order to properly direct the acts [...] we must also consider to what extent they realise a dynamism of openness and union [...] Otherwise we will only have appearances'.

"St Bonaventure explained that the other virtues, without charity, strictly speaking do not fulfil the commandments as God intends them" (n.91).

In sects or one-sidedly inspired groups, human and spiritual riches are deposited in a secluded place, so they grow old and debased.

In the assemblies of the children, on the other hand, they are shared: they grow and communicate; by multiplying, they green up, for universal benefit.

To internalise and live the message:

What attracts you to the Church? In comparisons with the top of the class, do you feel judged or adequate?

Do you feel the Love that saves, even if you remain uncertain?

Mutual pride, no discouragement

(Lk 15:11-32)

I had never understood what God's Mercy had to do with my dignity: how come the pose of the sons [who sooner or later return] had to be the one depicted by Rembrandt - one standing, the other kneeling?

If the young man runs away because the atmosphere set up by the pretensions of the elder brothers is unbearable, should he also shave his head and stand in penance - hoping at best to be an object of compassion?

No, otherwise the master of the house would not have clothed his runaway son with cassock and ring, i.e. appointed him - foolishly - as the new head of administration of the house. As if everything were regular.

In the Year of the Father, I admired the chromatic artistry of the work now in the Hermitage, but the composition and sense of the figures did not sit well with me.

Worn feet, unserviceable footwear, I could even understand them. But not the stance of a bumbling man in search of an absurd and forced empathy.

The suit torn in several places, without a dignified belt - perhaps sold out of necessity - and replaced by a miserable scullion's lanyard, all right.

But the small sword hanging from his right hip seemed to me to illustrate that despite his disgrace and shaved slave head, the young man had not lost his cynical opportunism.

In my spiritual grammar at the time, however, the bald head already alluded to the idea of the unborn child.

In the seminary I realised that beyond events, we are unceasingly generated as fresh and clean creatures; never humiliated.

The emphasis of this Gospel in the penitential liturgies tinged with ambiguity for me: the protagonist is the yielding Father, not the lopsided actions of the son who runs away and comes back out of calculation (and will run away again).

Tapered, strong hands: only His are so complete.

In Liturgy classes I had also learnt the meaning of 'red': royalty capable of rewinding the lost; colour in unison with the tenderness of flesh and its living generosity.

And it is all carnal in its stooping down to straddle [falling on the neck: thus the Greek text] the rediscovered and reborn.It is not a notary's gesture that finds, but one that shortens the distance and removes the dishonour of the rifts, unbridgeable by Perfection.

It justifies: it creates the just where there is no justice.

The opposite of the eldest son, upright and certain of his give and take; not solicitous to lift anyone up, let alone the weak.

He has a gaze that only sees the wretched on the outside, does not grasp the scene from within.

The elder brother remains rigid and indignant: no symphonies and choruses, but only realises his efficient service.

And he even whines, because in everything he imagines he has to ask permission, even to be able to party (v.29): the infantilism of the obedient... formalist and calibrated.

To the official icon of the Year of the Father I preferred the focus of Andrea Palma's painting at the Galleria Borghese - albeit less aesthetically creative and fascinating.

I understood further by delving into the text. And I became aware of the biblical meaning of a suppressed commandment [but a point of strength and distinction in the approach to God, a specificity of evangelical spirituality]: "Thou shalt not make thyself an image" (Ex 20:3-4ff; Deut 5:8ff).

The ancient precept supposes that representations detract from the Logos and the You-for-you, depersonalising the relationship with the Father: they perhaps deviate and confuse it.

It is precisely the most attractive features, descriptive or decorative, that are sometimes able to dampen the disruptive force of the missionary Word, with its raw and biting tone, not at all intimist.

[In sacred art, especially Latin figurative art has pretensions that dwarf the impulse of the Text, not infrequently normalised according to 'cultural' and moral clichés].

The son does not return because he is intimately repentant, but out of opportunism and sheer hunger - and prepares a speech that might convince the parent. Indeed, it has moved many generations.

The Father prevents him from finishing the ready-made sentence (vv.18-19), precisely at the point where the son intended to express himself as a servant put to wages (vv.21-22). This is the whole game.

Thanks to his radical experience in the journey of faith, Andrea Palma, the lesser-rated but religious artist of the friars of St. Dominic, sensed what all traditional iconography - captured by clichés - had never grasped.

The Recall of the famous parable is not for the irritated, uninhibited and spendthrift young man, then repentant in pretense - but for the 'first-born' (vv.2-3) who still kidnap the Gratis.

The Father had shown respect for conscience and even yielded, but with a firm gesture he does not allow them to kneel.

He decisively prevents us from making the only mistake he really cares to avoid, because we would ruin not only the moral character of one section of existence, but the whole life of our neighbour as well - by becoming ridiculous, disassociated and hostile like the 'greater ones'.

In the sight of God we are equal, not beneath. He does not humiliate, he does not discredit, he does not demand that we bow down before Him or some guru who imposes external artifices.

It was good to know that - despite the sullen looks of the major gendarmes - I too would always fall on my feet.

Merciful Father and prodigal son: the pride will be mutual.

No disheartened

Love is a Feast, not an exchange of favours.

So we are not marked for life, for He knows that our paradoxical escapes are dictated by a need (or legitimate fixation): to breathe.

And we must be proud of ourselves.

Inside the house there is no freedom, because the 'big brothers' are sometimes unbearable.

They impose performance, they understand everything, they control every comma; they imagine that everyone should be paid according to merit, pace, ability, effort, overtime hours, (manners and) sirs.

Arcane about everything, they whine only because they imagine that one must ask permission from authority even to rejoice in life and make noise for free.

Their 'must and obey' kills Tenderness.

The Father, on the other hand, prevents us from feeling degraded, so he does not want to hear the list of transgressions that the 'pure' one does not know but imagines and foolishly punctuates, because he represses them within and secretly cultivates them [identifying them with pleasure!]

He does not want us to make the mistake that ruins the whole of life and not just a few stretches of the path: to feel salaried.

In this way, he educates us to let good prevail over evil, without demeaning anyone.

Everywhere we find a master who exploits. And even if we only return home out of calculation, God prevents us from getting down on our knees.

We recite the Lord's Prayer standing: with Him we are always valiant face to face, and He likes "symphonies and choirs".

For an interiorisation of discernment

Although the Father is not understood by any of His intimates, He stands out by remaining yielding without any demeanour.Not because he is good-natured and decent, but wise: the life of both sons would not be advanced by exasperating their fulcrums, denying forces, poles, sides of the soul, but by integrating these powers and taking them as a supplement. By recognising and coalescing them.

The famous parable is unsuccessful due to the fact that the certain conclusion of the plot does not and must not exist.

The two of them [who are each of us, at the same time, in our innermost selves] will continue the usual indecent story, that is, being in and out of the house.

All this in a brazen manner. But then they will know the many slopes of themselves - even in opposition.

This is perhaps the most relevant aspect: based on the different motions of the soul and happenings, everyone is called to his or her own (unpredictable) synthesis.

It can vary not only in situation, but also with respect to different ages, in the spirit.

Gradually the solution makes its way, but it does not emerge in the regularity of decent events - from alienated women and men.

Elder and younger son are co-present aspects in each.

It is a paradoxical condition, but one that makes it possible to be richer: e.g. not always neurotic, narrow-minded, stressful and busy like the eldest son; not only wild, epidermic and impulsive like the youngest.

Change and variegated calibre are resources that trigger both pauses and leaps forward, and the Father knows this.

God wants us complete: capable of imagining and thinking, but also solid.

Whereas a master father would place us where he needs us and it would be enough for him if we were servile servants of the boss.

So we would be good and placed where he puts us for his needs. 

Civil servants... without that ductile cooperation that opens up varied experience and a correlative added value - able to elaborate and to be.

Thus and in the Exodus of each character.

Evolving the polyhedron of personality, and growing in freedom; towards an ever more convinced alliance and integration, and its fulfilment in Love.

In stagnating situations, the drive of unconditional understanding and friendship that makes the weak strong act as an unsurpassable therapy - an incentive to continue the journey.

In Journey, they are relationships that accept and welcome, accommodate and bless contrasts (in the case of the two, reliability and fantasy, for example).

By letting the conflicting slopes surface, all dispositions and talents... both better self-knowledge and external relationships, become territories of new expression.

Expansion of life, by innate plastic energies, which make the soul rich and confirm [or challenge and denounce, in the case of conformism] personal inclinations.

Spiritual guides linked to customary and commonplace religiosity tend to make us deny contradictions. But this cuts the person back, saps his strength and impoverishes the even intimate situation, annihilating his normal drives.

And it inoculates the idea that God himself is a reductionist totem, not the Source, the exuberance of life and the platform of Being that we experience in particular essences.

Not infrequently, self-righteous religiosity reduces life in the Spirit to trifles, muddling us in puddles.

Conversely, communion with the Father enjoys perceiving the power of full Wholeness, which makes day and night meet.

The soul only feels fit if the magma of conflicting powers that it perceives and grasps are recognised, blessed.

The many nuances allow us to measure ourselves against different unities, and to be aware of opposing sides - from which intermediate sides will germinate.

Neglecting to welcome them is fruitless: we could not deal unconditionally with the facets of reality and the multitude of characters we carry within.

They are forces that come to our aid, recuperate, complement, according to events or personal sensitivity.

If we remain enclosed in an idol, in a chiselled idea, in a task, in a role, in manners, in even hyperactive and respectable, or faux-transgressive, mannerisms, to be recited, we would lose the opportunity and the capacity to recreate ourselves, the Church, the world.

Evangelisation itself must be able to take on unforeseen variations; so must missionary activity, which often goes hand in hand with an enterprising soul, full of discrepancies that open up the search for dialogue and the risk of empathy; going beyond the so-called 'charisma'.

Contradiction dwells in each of us and the merciful Father does not call anyone to put on inner or outer straitjackets.

He does not intend to absorb the life of our subtleties and nuances, nor does he intend to reduce the co-presence of faces.

He knows that each person's evolution is matched by a varied experiential language; capable in its time of combining ancient richness, even momentary personal inclinations, and unexpected novelties.If we deny the manifold universe of the soul and the multitude of its antinomies, idioms and co-present characters - like the two sons who are both contradictory but ultimately complementary - we would never have all the perspectives available for a growth of the life-wave and for evolution in the expressive force of Faith.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xix): 'There is more to be observed: show yourself simple and keep yourself raw'.

In the Work of the Spirit, Occasions of Wealth for all, and... no one disheartened.

All now free. How wonderful, such a monstrance! A living Body of Christ that smells of Sharing!

This is the beautiful and regal awareness that levelled and made credible every content of the Proclamation (vv.1-2).

Henceforth, the distinction between believers or non-believers will be much deeper than between pure and impure, performers or not.

A whole other carat - and principle of a saved existence.

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the unhinged son and the precise one (in us) that is the more rubricistic - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character (the rigid one and the distracted one).

It will even make them flourish: they will become indispensable and winning aspects of future testimony.

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

Merciful Father and prodigal son: the Fierceness will be mutual.

To internalise and live the message:

When do I find myself hypocritical and narrow-hearted? When do I realise instead that I am the protagonist of what the Father shares?

In this Gospel three persons appear: the father and two sons. But these people represent two rather different life projects. Both sons lived peacefully, they were fairly well-off farmers so they had enough to live on, selling their produce profitably, and life seemed good. 

Yet little by little the younger son came to find this life boring and unsatisfying: "All of life can't be like this", he thought: rising every day, say at six o'clock, then according to Israel's traditions, there must have been a prayer, a reading from the Holy Bible, then they went to work and at the end of the day another prayer. 

Thus, day after day he thought: "But no, life is something more. I must find another life where I am truly free, where I can do what I like; a life free from this discipline, from these norms of God's commandments, from my father's orders; I would like to be on my own and have life with all its beauties totally for myself. Now, instead, it is nothing but work...". 

And so he decided to claim the whole of his share of his inheritance and leave. His father was very respectful and generous and respected the son's freedom: it was he who had to find his own life project. And he departed, as the Gospel says, to a far-away country. It was probably geographically distant because he wanted a change, but also inwardly distant because he wanted a completely different life. 

So his idea was: freedom, doing what I want to do, not recognizing these laws of a God who is remote, not being in the prison of this domestic discipline, but rather doing what is beautiful, what I like, possessing life with all its beauty and fullness. 

And at first - we might imagine, perhaps for a few months - everything went smoothly: he found it beautiful to have attained life at last, he felt happy. 

Then, however, little by little, he felt bored here, too; here too everything was always the same. And in the end, he was left with an emptiness that was even more disturbing: the feeling that this was still not life became ever more acute; indeed, going ahead with all these things, life drifted further and further away. Everything became empty: the slavery of doing the same things then also re-emerged. And in the end, his money ran out and the young man found that his standard of living was lower than that of swine. 

It was then that he began to reflect and wondered if that really was the path to life: a freedom interpreted as doing what I want, living, having life only for me; or if instead it might be more of a life to live for others, to contribute to building the world, to the growth of the human community.... 

So it was that he set out on a new journey, an inner journey. The boy pondered and considered all these new aspects of the problem and began to see that he had been far freer at home, since he had also been a landowner contributing to building his home and society in communion with the Creator, knowing the purpose of his life and guessing the project that God had in store for him. 

During this interior journey, during this development of a new life project and at the same time living the exterior journey, the younger son was motivated to return, to start his life anew because he now understood that he had taken the wrong track. I must start out afresh with a different concept, he said to himself; I must begin again. 

And he arrived at the home of the father who had left him his freedom to give him the chance to understand inwardly what life is and what life is not. The father embraced him with all his love, he offered him a feast and life could start again beginning from this celebration. 

The son realized that it is precisely work, humility and daily discipline that create the true feast and true freedom. So he returned home, inwardly matured and purified: he had understood what living is. 

Of course, in the future his life would not be easy either, temptations would return, but he was henceforth fully aware that life without God does not work; it lacks the essential, it lacks light, it lacks reason, it lacks the great sense of being human. He understood that we can only know God on the basis of his Word. 

We Christians can add that we know who God is from Jesus, in whom the face of God has been truly shown to us. The young man understood that God's Commandments are not obstacles to freedom and to a beautiful life, but signposts on the road on which to travel to find life. 

He realized too that work and the discipline of being committed, not to oneself but to others, extends life. And precisely this effort of dedicating oneself through work gives depth to life, because one experiences the pleasure of having at last made a contribution to the growth of this world that becomes freer and more beautiful. 

I do not wish at this point to speak of the other son who stayed at home, but in his reaction of envy we see that inwardly he too was dreaming that perhaps it would be far better to take all the freedoms for himself. He too in his heart was "returning home" and understanding once again what life is, understanding that it is truly possible to live only with God, with his Word, in the communion of one's own family, of work; in the communion of the great Family of God. 

I do not wish to enter into these details now: let each one of us apply this Gospel to himself in his own way. Our situations are different and each one has his own world. Nonetheless, the fact remains that we are all moved and that we can all enter with our inner journey into the depths of the Gospel. 

Only a few more remarks: the Gospel helps us understand who God truly is. He is the Merciful Father who in Jesus loves us beyond all measure. 

The errors we commit, even if they are serious, do not corrode the fidelity of his love. In the Sacrament of Confession we can always start out afresh in life. He welcomes us, he restores to us our dignity as his children. 

Let us therefore rediscover this sacrament of forgiveness that makes joy well up in a heart reborn to true life. 

Furthermore, this parable helps us to understand who the human being is: he is not a "monad", an isolated being who lives only for himself and must have life for himself alone. 

On the contrary, we live with others, we were created together with others and only in being with others, in giving ourselves to others, do we find life. 

The human being is a creature in whom God has impressed his own image, a creature who is attracted to the horizon of his Grace, but he is also a frail creature exposed to evil but also capable of good. And lastly, the human being is a free person. 

We must understand what freedom is and what is only the appearance of freedom. 

Freedom, we can say, is a springboard from which to dive into the infinite sea of divine goodness, but it can also become a tilted plane on which to slide towards the abyss of sin and evil and thus also to lose freedom and our dignity. 

Dear friends, we are in the Season of Lent, the 40 days before Easter. In this Season of Lent, the Church helps us to make this interior journey and invites us to conversion, which always, even before being an important effort to change our behaviour, is an opportunity to decide to get up and set out again, to abandon sin and to choose to return to God. 

Let us - this is the imperative of Lent - make this journey of inner liberation together. 

Every time, such as today, that we participate in the Eucharist, the source and school of love, we become capable of living this love, of proclaiming it and witnessing to it with our life. 

Nevertheless, we need to decide to walk towards Jesus as the Prodigal Son did, returning inwardly and outwardly to his father. 

At the same time, we must abandon the selfish attitude of the older son who was sure of himself, quick to condemn others and closed in his heart to understanding, acceptance and forgiveness of his brother, and who forgot that he too was in need of forgiveness. 

May the Virgin Mary and St Joseph, my Patron Saint whose Feast it will be tomorrow, obtain this gift for us; I now invoke him in a special way for each one of you and for your loved ones.

[Pope Benedict, homily Penal Institute for Minors Rome 18 March 2007]

3. In the New Testament, God's forgiveness is revealed through Jesus' words and deeds. In pardoning sins, Jesus shows the face of God the merciful Father. By opposing certain religious tendencies marked by hypocritical severity towards sinners, he shows on various occasions how great and profound is the Father's mercy towards all his children (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, n. 1443). 

The high point of this revelation can be considered the sublime parable which is usually called "the prodigal son", but which should be called "the merciful father" (Lk 15: 11-32). Here God's attitude is presented in terms that are truly overwhelming in comparison with human criteria and expectations. The father's conduct in the parable can be understood in all its originality, if we keep in mind that in the social context of Jesus' time it was normal for sons to work in their father's house, like the two sons of the vineyard owner, of whom he speaks in another parable (cf. Mt 21: 28-31). This system continued until the father's death, and only then did the sons divide the property they had inherited. In our case, instead, the father agrees to give the younger son his share of the inheritance and divides his possessions between him and his elder son (cf. Lk15: 12). 

4. The younger son's decision to be emancipated, squandering the goods he had received from his father and living a dissolute life (cf. ibid., 15: 13), is a shameless rejection of family communion.  

Leaving the father's house clearly expresses the meaning of sin as an act of ungrateful rebellion with its humanly painful consequences. Human reasonableness, in some way expressed in the elder brother's protest, would have recommended an appropriately severe punishment for the younger son's decision before he could fully rejoin the family. 

But the father, catching sight of him while still a long way off, runs to meet him full of compassion (or better, "inwardly moved with pity", as the Greek text literally says:  Lk 15: 20), embraces him lovingly and wants everyone to celebrate with him. 

The father's mercy is even more apparent when he tenderly reprimands the elder brother for demanding his own rights (cf. ibid., 15: 29f.), and invites him to the communal banquet of joy. Mere legalism is surpassed by the father's generous and gratuitous love, which exceeds human justice and calls both brothers to be seated again at the father's table. 

Forgiveness consists not only in taking back under the paternal roof the son who has left, but also in welcoming him with the joy of restored communion, bringing him from death to life. This is why "it was fitting to make merry and be glad" (ibid., 15: 32). 

The merciful Father who embraces the prodigal son is the definitive icon of God revealed by Christ. First and foremost he is Father. It is God the Father who extends his arms in blessing and forgiveness, always waiting, never forcing any of his children. His hands support, clasp, give strength and, at the same time, comfort, console and caress. They are the hands of both a father and a mother. 

The merciful father in the parable possesses and transcends all the traits of fatherhood and motherhood. In throwing himself on his son's neck, he resembles a mother who caresses her son and surrounds him with her warmth. In the light of this revelation of the face and heart of God the Father, we can understand Jesus' saying, so disconcerting to human logic:  "There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance" (ibid., 15: 7). And:  "There is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents" (ibid., 15: 10). 

5. The mystery of "home-coming" wonderfully expresses the encounter between the Father and humanity, between mercy and misery, in a circle of love that touches not only the son who was lost, but is extended to all. 

The invitation to the banquet which the father extends to the elder son implies the heavenly Father's exhortation to all the members of the human family to be merciful as well. 

The experience of God's fatherhood implies the acceptance of "brotherhood", precisely because God is the Father of all, even of our erring brother. 

In recounting this parable, Jesus does not only speak of the Father but also lets us glimpse his own sentiments. To the Pharisees and the scribes who accused him of receiving sinners and eating with them (cf. ibid., 15: 2), he shows his preference for the sinners and tax collectors who were approaching him with trust (cf. ibid., 15: 1), and thus reveals that he has been sent to manifest the Father's mercy. This is the mercy that shines brightly especially on Golgotha, in the sacrifice offered by Christ for the forgiveness of sins (cf. Mt 26: 28).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 8 September 1999]

“While he was yet at a distance, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him” (Lk 15:20). 

Here the Gospel takes us to the heart of the parable, showing the father’s response at seeing the return of his son. Deeply moved, he runs out to meet him before he can even reach home. A son long awaited. A father rejoicing to see him return. 

That was not the only time the father ran. His joy would not be complete without the presence of his other son. He then sets out to find him and invites him to join in the festivities (cf. v. 28). But the older son appeared upset by the homecoming celebration. He found his father’s joy hard to take; he did not acknowledge the return of his brother: “that son of yours”, he calls him (v. 30). For him, his brother was still lost, because he had already lost him in his heart. 

By his unwillingness to take part in the celebration, the older son fails not only to recognize his brother, but his father as well. He would rather be an orphan than a brother. He prefers isolation to encounter, bitterness to rejoicing. Not only is he unable to understand or forgive his brother, he cannot accept a father capable of forgiving, willing to wait patiently, to trust and to keep looking, lest anyone be left out. In a word, a father capable of compassion. 

At the threshold of that home, something of the mystery of our humanity appears. On the one hand, celebration for the son who was lost and is found; on the other, a feeling of betrayal and indignation at the celebrations marking his return. On the one hand, the welcome given to the son who had experienced misery and pain, even to the point of yearning to eat the husks thrown to the swine; on the other, irritation and anger at the embrace given to one who had proved himself so unworthy.

What we see here yet again is the tension we experience in our societies and in our communities, and even in our own hearts. A tension deep within us ever since the time of Cain and Abel. We are called to confront it and see it for what it is. For we too ask: “Who has the right to stay among us, to take a place at our tables and in our meetings, in our activities and concerns, in our squares and our cities?” The murderous question seems constantly to return: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” (cf. Gen 4:9).

At the threshold of that home, we can see our own divisions and strife, the aggressiveness and conflicts that always lurk at the door of our high ideals, our efforts to build a society of fraternity, where each person can experience even now the dignity of being a son or daughter.

Yet at the threshold of that home, we will also see in all its radiant clarity, with no ifs and buts, the father’s desire that all his sons and daughters should share in his joy. That no one should have to live in inhuman conditions, as his younger son did, or as orphaned, aloof and bitter like the older son. His heart wants all men and women to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth (1 Tim 2:4).

It is true that many situations can foment division and strife, while others can bring us to confrontation and antagonism. It cannot be denied. Often we are tempted to believe that hatred and revenge are legitimate ways of ensuring quick and effective justice. Yet experience tells us that hatred, division and revenge succeed only in killing our peoples’ soul, poisoning our children’s hopes, and destroying and sweeping away everything we cherish.

Jesus invites us, then, to stop and contemplate the heart of our Father. Only from that perspective can we acknowledge once more that we are brothers and sisters. Only against that vast horizon can we transcend our shortsighted and divisive ways of thinking, and see things in a way that does not downplay our differences in the name of a forced unity or a quiet marginalization. Only if we can raise our eyes to heaven each day and say “Our Father”, will we be able to be part of a process that can make us see things clearly and risk living no longer as enemies but as brothers and sisters.

“All that is mine is yours” (Lk 15:31), says the father to his older son. He is not speaking so much about material wealth, as about sharing in his own love and own compassion. This is the greatest legacy and wealth of a Christian. Instead of measuring ourselves or classifying ourselves according to different moral, social, ethnic or religious criteria, we should be able to recognize that another criterion exists, one that no one can take away or destroy because it is pure gift. It is the realization that we are beloved sons and daughters, whom the Father awaits and celebrates.

“All that is mine is yours”, says the Father, including my capacity for compassion. Let us not fall into the temptation of reducing the fact that we are his children to a question of rules and regulations, duties and observances. Our identity and our mission will not arise from forms of voluntarism, legalism, relativism or fundamentalism, but rather from being believers who daily beg with humility and perseverance: “May your Kingdom come!”

The Gospel parable leaves us with an open ending. We see the father asking the older son to come in and share in the celebration of mercy. The Gospel writer says nothing about what the son decided. Did he join the party? We can imagine that this open ending is meant to be written by each individual and every community. We can complete it by the way we live, the way we regard others, and how we treat our neighbour. The Christian knows that in the Father’s house there are many rooms: the only ones who remain outside are those who choose not to share in his joy.

Dear brothers and dear sisters, I want to thank you for the way in which you bear witness to the Gospel of mercy in this land. Thank you for your efforts to make each of your communities an oasis of mercy. I encourage you to continue to let the culture of mercy grow, a culture in which no one looks at others with indifference, or averts his eyes in the face of their suffering (cf. Misericordia et Misera, 20). Keep close to the little ones and the poor, and to all those who are rejected, abandoned and ignored. Continue to be a sign of the Father’s loving embrace.

May the Merciful and Compassionate One – as our Muslim brothers and sisters frequently invoke him – strengthen you and make your works of love ever more fruitful.

[Pope Francis, homily Rabat 31 March 2019]

(Lk 18:9-14)

Mechanism of retribution denies the essential experience of the life of Faith: ‘allowing oneself to be a saved person, living from Mystery’ - instead of the closed circle of narrow “justices” that have nowhere to go.

To introduce oneself into the newness of Christ it’s enough to have met oneself and to be sincere: a strange holiness, accessible to all.

It comes to reality, even the most intimate: we are not omnipotent in goodness; we cannot do much good, from sophistication, from ideas, from muscles.

By leaving room for the Father's intervention, we learn to trust in what we receive, more than relying on the expectations even of others, or on what is proposed and imposed.

Our concrete history can be reflected in the form of Prayer. But if dialogue with God doesn’t emerge from a penetrating perception and is satisfied with external goals, Listening becomes empty.

The spirit of “greatness” (also moral and spiritual) sinks inexorably - and into true misery: the epidermal one.

It doesn’t see the Father's exceptionality: He who transmits life.

Those who live by comparisons and have a contemptuous evaluation of the considered inferior ones, do not enjoy openings.

They remain without space or time for the action of the multifaceted being, in the variety of situations.

They misplace themselves in front of God and neighbor - denying themselves the joy of Gratis and Novelty.

In this way, they never trust in what’s more reliable than a worldview, or in their own leadership initiatives.

They do not grasp anything they do not already know, because they do not read inside.

They are in constant monologue: with themselves [but never reaching the self’s bottom] and those of their own circle.

So they don't pour out happiness - which comes from amazement.

In all circumstances, they find only a theater, an echo’s rumble of others’ voices, and around them.

Not the intimacy of exceptional and beloved person as it is.

The subject of archaic religious life is in fact “the our" - the ego.

If Jesus had asked which of the two could return home justified, everyone would have pointed to the pharisee, the reserved one apart.

In the life of Faith, the Subject is instead the Mystery, the Eternal, the Living One.

It’s He who works, by creating: and only He acts here too.

He justifies, that is, He places justice where there is none. The self-sufficient person has no need.

This is the real and royal Principle, engine of our realization and of authentic prayer-hearing, stripped of merits and pride, but capable of recovering the ‘opposite sides’.

God fears flawless liturgies and individual prayers in which nothing happens and from which one comes out without having experienced his «Creative Action» and his forgiveness.

Work not ours. Energy and sting that even in our innermost being brings us an Alliance of ‘faces’, a conviviality of differences.

In the spiritual and social life of the "polyhedron" and of the daily brief, we are enabled to translate the need for a ‘jointing-sentiment’, which the Father communicates in a broad manner, and giving us time.

Much more than a struggle between opposing worldviews: divine Justice is unprecedented, and growing - it cannot be bought by manner deeds.

To internalize and live the message:

When do I see myself as a pharisee and when publican?

How can I meet myself, by contemplating God? And while I meet others?

[Saturday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 29, 2025]