Today we meet the one who, according to the Gospels, was the first to see the Risen Christ: Mary Magdalene. The Sabbath had ended not long before. On the day of the Passion, there had not been enough time to complete the funeral rites. For this reason, at that sorrow-filled dawn, the women went to Jesus’ tomb with aromatic oils. The first to arrive was Mary Magdalene. She was one of the disciples who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee, putting herself at the service of the burgeoning Church. Her walk to the sepulchre mirrors the fidelity of many women who spend years in the small alleyways of cemeteries remembering someone who is no longer there. The most authentic bonds are not broken even in death: there are those who continue loving even if their loved one is gone forever.

The Gospel describes Magdalene by immediately highlighting that she was not a woman easily given to enthusiasm (cf. Jn 20:1-2, 11-18). In fact, after her visit to the sepulchre, she returns disappointed to the Apostles’ hiding place. She tells them that the stone has been removed from the entrance to the sepulchre, and her first hypothesis is the simplest that one could formulate: someone must have stolen Jesus’ body. Thus, the first announcement that Mary makes is not the one of the Resurrection, but of a theft perpetrated by persons unknown while all Jerusalem slept.

The Gospels then tell of Magdalene’s second visit to Jesus’ sepulchre. She was stubborn! She went, she returned ... because she was not convinced! This time her step is slow and very heavy. Mary suffers twice as much: first for the death of Jesus, and then for the inexplicable disappearance of his body.

It is as she is stooping near the tomb, her eyes filled with tears, that God surprises her in the most unexpected way. John the Evangelist stresses how persistent her blindness is. She does not notice the presence of the two angels who question her, and she does not become suspicious even when she sees the man behind her, whom she believes is the custodian of the garden. Instead, she discovers the most overwhelming event in the history of mankind when she is finally called by her name: “Mary!” (v. 16).

How nice it is to think that the first apparition of the Risen One — according to the Gospels — took place in such a personal way! To think that there is someone who knows us, who sees our suffering and disappointment, who is moved with us and calls us by name. It is a law which we find engraved on many pages of the Gospel. There are many people around Jesus who search for God, but the most prodigious reality is that, long before that, in the first place there is God, who is concerned about our life, who wants to raise it, and to do this, he calls us by name, recognizing the individual face of each person. Each person is a love story that God writes on this earth. Each one of us is God’s love story. He calls each of us by our name: he knows us by name; he looks at us; he waits for us; he forgives us; he is patient with us. Is this true or not true? Each of us experiences this.

And Jesus calls her: “Mary!”: the revolution of her life, the revolution destined to transform the life of every man and every woman begins with a name which echoes in the garden of the empty sepulchre. The Gospels describe Mary’s happiness. Jesus’ Resurrection is not a joy which is measured with a dropper, but a waterfall that cascades over life. Christian life is not woven of soft joys, but of waves which engulf everything. You too, try to imagine, right now, with the baggage of disappointments and failures that each of us carries in our heart, that there is a God close to us who calls us by name and says to us: ‘Rise, stop weeping, for I have come to free you!”. This is beautiful.

Jesus is not one who adapts to the world, tolerating in it the persistence of death, sadness, hatred, the moral destruction of people.... Our God is not inert, but our God — allow me to say — is a dreamer: he dreams of the transformation of the world, and accomplished it in the mystery of the Resurrection.

Mary would like to embrace her Lord, but he is already oriented towards the heavenly Father, whereas she is sent to carry the news to the brethren. And so that woman, who, before encountering Jesus, had been at the mercy of evil (cf. Lk 8:2) now becomes the Apostle of the new and greatest hope. May her intercession also help us live this experience: in times of woe and in times of abandonment, to listen to the Risen Jesus who calls us by name and, with a heart full of joy, to go forth and proclaim: “I have seen the Lord!” (v. 18). I have changed my life because I have seen the Lord! I am now different than before. I am another person. I have changed because I have seen the Lord. This is our strength and this is our hope. Thank you.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 17 May 2017]

The Lord wants new people, who listen

(Mt 12:46-50)

In the life of those who are challenged by the relationship of Faith, to become blood relatives of the Father (according to the Spirit) is fundamental Perceive [in profound sense of Listening - not so much materially "seeing"].

It is not worth the «staying outside», or wanting to "speak" directly, to "convince" the Lord (vv.46-47).

It is necessary to intuit and grasp: a path to encounter one’s own intimate layers of being, the truth of inclinations, and of life.

It is decisive to welcome a satiating Word, which becomes language and culture, which has creative power: given to the ears and discovered inside. Captured in personal history and reality, and transmitted again.

To depart from this founding Core and Eros means detaching from oneself, dispersing oneself in rivulets that do not belong to us, failing into the void [’emptiness’ not understood as a deep energetic state, which prepares new developments].

Paradoxically, both our Freedom and the Salvation of the world are the result of an Obedience - but not external, or others.

It is rather tuning in to the part of the Logos within us that is blooming; really "perfect". No conditioning model.

No a priori correction, nor forcing according to prejudice: rather, an eternal Metamorphosis - accompanied by the Verbum Domini, which mysteriously guides Exodus into Exodus.

No configured customary expectation would join us full communion with the divine spark and fullness in each and everyone.

Realization of the kingdom and of every day - even out of time.

To know Christ closely it is not enough to look at him and be taken by sympathy, cultural ties, or religious emotion.

It is the Listening that connects and establishes intimate constraints which do not extinguish - a friendship of engaging harmony with the Master.

Around Jesus the Word of God creates a new Family, with bonds of spiritual kinship closer than what the clan attachment offered.

The Lord wants other people, born precisely from Perception.

The union is no longer reserved and exclusive; it becomes accessible to anyone and in any condition - even if he/her were "blind" outside, unable to see what is at hand.

Everyone is a Church, House of the Father, and thus realize God’s Dream of living with men and walking alongside.

He dwells among us and in us. In his Word, without more "distances".

In this way, all our actions must aim for this purpose: to form the Temple of God, his lineage, the Body of the living Christ.

To achieve this complete goal, essential means is to host the Vocation that transforms us, a much more permanent, sensitive and energetic foundation of any feeling, connection, or emotion.

Indispensable is not an (initial) experience of enthusiasm, but the custody of the Call that interprets life and becomes mentality, dynamism inside that leads us.

And flows into suburban paths.

There is yet other Temple to be built.

[Tuesday 16th wk. in O.T.  July 21, 2026]

The Lord wants new people, who listen

(Mt 12:46–50)

    In the life of anyone called to a relationship of faith, in order to become kin to the Father according to the Spirit, it is essential to perceive [in the profound sense of ‘listening’ – not so much ‘seeing’ directly in a physical sense].

Nor is it enough simply to ‘stand on the sidelines’, or to seek to ‘speak’ directly in order to ‘convince’ the Lord (vv. 46–47).

It is necessary to intuit and grasp: a journey to encounter the deepest layers of one’s being, the truth of one’s inclinations, and of life itself.

It is crucial to receive a Word that satisfies, which becomes language and culture, and which possesses creative power: given to our ears and discovered within. Grasped within our personal history and reality, and passed on once more.

To turn away from this Word and this founding Eros is to detach oneself from one’s true self, to scatter into streams that do not belong to us, to plunge into the void [‘void’ not understood as a profound energetic state that prepares the way for new developments].

Paradoxically, both our Freedom and the Salvation of the world are the fruit of Obedience – but not an external obedience, nor one imposed by others.

Rather, it is a matter of attuning ourselves to the part of the Logos within us that is blossoming; truly ‘perfect’. No conditioning model.

No a priori correction, nor coercion based on prejudice: rather, an eternal Metamorphosis – accompanied by the Word, which mysteriously guides us from Exodus to Exodus.

No pre-determined cultural expectation could ever lead to full communion with the great divine spark and fullness within each and every one of us.

The realisation of the Kingdom in every day – even beyond time.

To know Christ intimately, it is not enough merely to look at him and be moved by sympathy or religious emotion.

It is Listening that forges and establishes intimate bonds—which never fade—of captivating harmony with the Master.

Around Jesus, the Word of God creates a new Family, with bonds of spiritual kinship closer than those offered by clan ties.

The Lord desires a different kind of people, born precisely from Perception-premonition.

This union is no longer reserved or exclusive; it becomes accessible to anyone, whatever their circumstances – even if they are ‘blind’ to the outside world, unable to perceive what lies within their grasp.

Each person is the Church, the Father’s House, and thus can fulfil God’s Dream of dwelling amongst humankind and walking alongside them.

He dwells amongst us and within us. In his Word, with no ‘distances’ any longer.

In this way, all our actions must be directed towards this aim: to form the Temple of God, his household, the Body of the living Christ.

To reach this fulfilment, the essential means is to embrace the Vocation that transforms us, a foundation far deeper than any bond or emotion.

What is indispensable is not an (initial) experience of enthusiasm, but rather the safeguarding of the Call that gives meaning to life and becomes a mindset, an inner dynamism that guides us and leads us onto paths to the peripheries.

In ancient Israel, the basis of social coexistence was the extended family. Clans and communities guaranteed protection both for individual households and for individuals.

That bond of genuine solidarity ensured ownership of the land – which gave a sense of freedom – and served as a vehicle for cultural transmission, for the sense of being a people, and for spirituality itself.

Defending the coexistence that guaranteed their collective identity was tantamount to defending the First Covenant.

But in Palestine at the time of Jesus, clan life and the wider community life were in decline.

The excessive taxes payable to collaborationist governments and the Temple, the inevitable rise in the number of people forced to sell themselves into slavery to pay off debts, perhaps the more individualistic mindset of the Hellenistic world, imperial threats, and the obligation to welcome, feed and harbour Roman troops [who often took advantage even of the community’s most vulnerable members], all exacerbated the problems of survival.

In addition to this, the strictness of the purity laws was a further factor in their marginalisation, alongside the growing belief – typical of religions – that there was a link between divine curse and a state of poverty.

Concerns about material well-being and the protection of the individual family accentuated their detachment from communal life.

Jesus wanted to broaden once more the narrow confines of the small household community, and extend them to the great family of the Kingdom of God.

A comparison with the parallel passages of this episode reveals that Jesus had difficulties with his blood relatives.

They tended to try to bring him back within the bounds of tradition, out of fear of reprisals and because they regarded him as an extremist (perhaps even unbalanced).

The Risen One broadens the concept of Family and challenges the bonds that distance us from our identity, character and mission – whether these obstacles are posed by his own family, by Peter, by the disciples, by the powerful, or by the leaders of the official religion.

As mentioned above, at a time of political subjugation and rigid, legalistic religious ideology, the core values of the clan and the community were being eroded due to social and economic collapse.

This situation of external control – social and ideological enslavement – prevented people from coming together and sharing, forcing them to confine themselves to individual problems and the concerns of their own exclusive lineage.

[This was the situation in Jesus’ time, yet these aspects are not entirely alien to us, even from the perspective of certain ‘charisms’ defined in excessive detail, and of realities already established in the local area].

For the new Kingdom to manifest itself, the idea of communal living had to transcend the narrow confines of the individual and the tiny domestic hearth – including from a cultural perspective.

There was a need for a stimulus that would open the way to community life – understood in the spirit of the Beatitudes, for a conviviality of differences; even in actual, indeed harsh, cohabitation.

Even today, in this time of global crisis, the goal is an existence no longer marred by withdrawal, nor compromised by immediate necessities, disembodied fantasies, or ingrained patterns.

There is an urgent need for a new vision of the universal Family, one that transcends the limitations of habitual micro-relationships [namely, those of a group, a movement or even a denomination].

The world we are preparing will no longer make free participation, tolerant and concrete exchange, or the overcoming of domestication so difficult.

A new vision of universal Kinship, which fosters exchange and transcendence.

There is a very different Temple to be built.

To internalise and live out the message:

Do your family and your church group encourage an enlightened listening to the Gospel and ‘putting the Word into practice’, or do they merely offer you ready-made, pre-packaged ‘pills’?

Do they help you, or do they close you off from engaging with different ideas, from becoming aware of yourself, of those far away, and of the wealth of resources available—whether your own or those of others?

From this child, a new light issues forth, shining in the darkness of the night, as we can see in so many paintings depicting Christ’s Nativity. Henceforth, it is from him that blessing comes, from his name – Jesus, meaning “God saves” – and from his human face, in which God, the almighty Lord of heaven and earth, chose to become incarnate, concealing his glory under the veil of our flesh, so as to reveal fully to us his goodness (cf. Tit 3:4). 

The first to be swept up by this blessing was Mary the virgin, the spouse of Joseph, chosen by God from the first moment of her existence to be the mother of his incarnate Son. She is the “blessed among women” (Lk 1:42) – in the words of Saint Elizabeth’s greeting. Her whole life was spent in the light of the Lord, within the radius of his name and of the face of God incarnate in Jesus, the “blessed fruit of her womb”. This is how Luke’s Gospel presents her to us: fully intent upon guarding and meditating in her heart upon everything concerning her son Jesus (cf. Lk 2:19, 51). The mystery of her divine motherhood that we celebrate today contains in superabundant measure the gift of grace that all human motherhood bears within it, so much so that the fruitfulness of the womb has always been associated with God’s blessing. The Mother of God is the first of the blessed, and it is she who bears the blessing; she is the woman who received Jesus into herself and brought him forth for the whole human family. In the words of the liturgy: “without losing the glory of virginity, [she] brought forth into the world the eternal light, Jesus Christ our Lord” (Preface I of the Blessed Virgin Mary).

Mary is the mother and model of the Church, who receives the divine Word in faith and offers herself to God as the “good soil” in which he can continue to accomplish his mystery of salvation. The Church also participates in the mystery of divine motherhood, through preaching, which sows the seed of the Gospel throughout the world, and through the sacraments, which communicate grace and divine life to men. The Church exercises her motherhood especially in the sacrament of Baptism, when she generates God’s children from water and the Holy Spirit, who cries out in each of them: “Abba, Father!” (Gal 4:6). Like Mary, the Church is the mediator of God’s blessing for the world: she receives it in receiving Jesus and she transmits it in bearing Jesus. He is the mercy and the peace that the world, of itself, cannot give, and which it needs always, at least as much as bread.

[Pope Benedict, homily, 1 January 2012]

The Church has consistently recognised Mary as holy and free from all sin or moral imperfection. The Council of Trent expresses this conviction by stating that no one ‘can avoid, throughout their entire life, every sin, even venial sin, except by virtue of a special privilege, such as the Church holds to be the case with regard to the Blessed Virgin’ (DS 1573). The possibility of sinning does not spare even the Christian who has been transformed and renewed by grace. For grace does not preserve one from every sin throughout one’s life, unless, as the Council of Trent affirms, a special privilege ensures such immunity from sin. This is what happened in the case of Mary.

The Council of Trent did not wish to define this privilege, but it did declare that the Church affirms it with vigour: “Tenet”, that is, it holds it firmly. This is a decision which, far from relegating this truth to the realm of pious beliefs or devotional opinions, confirms its character as sound doctrine, firmly rooted in the faith of the People of God. Moreover, this conviction is founded on the grace bestowed upon Mary by the angel at the time of the Annunciation. By calling her ‘full of grace’, kecharitoméne, the angel recognises in her the woman endowed with permanent perfection and a fullness of holiness, without a shadow of sin or any moral or spiritual imperfection.

Some Church Fathers of the early centuries, not yet having come to the conviction of her perfect holiness, attributed moral imperfections or faults to Mary. Even some recent authors have adopted this position. However, the Gospel passages cited to justify these views do not in any way permit the attribution of a sin, or even merely a moral imperfection, to the Mother of the Redeemer.

Jesus’ reply to his mother, at the age of 12: ‘Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be about my Father’s business?’ (Lk 2:49), has sometimes been interpreted as a veiled rebuke. A careful reading of the episode, however, makes it clear that Jesus did not reproach his mother and Joseph for looking for him, since they were responsible for looking after him.

Upon finding Jesus after a distressing search, Mary merely asks him the ‘why’ behind his behaviour: ‘Son, why have you treated us like this?’ (Lk 2:48). And Jesus replies with another ‘why’, refraining from any reproach and referring to the mystery of his divine sonship.

Nor can the words spoken at Cana – “What have I to do with you, woman? My hour has not yet come” (Jn 2:4) – be interpreted as a rebuke. Faced with the likely distress that the lack of wine would have caused the bride and groom, Mary turns to Jesus with simplicity, entrusting the problem to him. Jesus, whilst fully aware that as the Messiah he was bound to obey only the Father’s will, grants his Mother’s implicit request. Above all, he responds to the Virgin’s faith and thus begins to perform miracles, revealing his glory.

Some have also interpreted Jesus’ statement in a negative light when, at the start of his public life, Mary and his relatives asked to see him. By recounting Jesus’ reply to those who said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers are standing outside and wish to see you’, the evangelist Luke offers us the key to understanding the account, which must be interpreted in the light of Mary’s inner dispositions, quite different from those of his ‘brothers’ (cf. Jn 7:5). Jesus replied: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the Word of God and put it into practice” (Lk 8:21). In the account of the Annunciation, in fact, Luke showed how Mary was the model of listening to the Word of God and of generous docility. Interpreted from this perspective, the episode offers a great tribute to Mary, who perfectly fulfilled the divine plan in her own life. Jesus’ words, whilst opposing the attempt made by his brothers, extol Mary’s fidelity to God’s will and the greatness of her motherhood, which she lived out not only physically but also spiritually.

In weaving this indirect praise, Jesus employs a particular method: he highlights the nobility of Mary’s conduct in the light of statements of a more general nature, thereby better illustrating the Virgin’s solidarity with and closeness to humanity on the arduous path to holiness.

Finally, the words: ‘Blessed rather are those who hear the Word of God and keep it!’ (Lk 11:28), spoken by Jesus in response to the woman who declared his Mother blessed, far from casting doubt on Mary’s personal perfection, emphasise her faithful fulfilment of the Word of God: this is how the Church has understood them, incorporating this expression into the liturgical celebrations in honour of Mary.

The Gospel text, in fact, suggests that with this statement Jesus wished to reveal, precisely in her intimate union with God and in her perfect adherence to the divine Word, the highest reason for his Mother’s blessedness.

The special privilege granted by God to the ‘All-Holy One’ leads us to marvel at the wonders wrought by grace in her life. It also reminds us that Mary has always belonged entirely to the Lord, and that no imperfection has ever marred the perfect harmony between her and God.

Her earthly journey, therefore, is characterised by the constant and sublime growth of faith, hope and charity. For this reason, Mary is for believers the radiant sign of divine Mercy and the sure guide towards the lofty heights of evangelical perfection and holiness.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 19 June 1996]

Mk 3:20-35 shows us two types of misunderstanding that Jesus had to face: that of the scribes and that of his own brethren.

The first misunderstanding. The scribes were men educated in the Sacred Scriptures and charged with explaining them to the people. Some of them were sent from Jerusalem to Galilee, where Jesus’ reputation was beginning to spread, in order to discredit him in the eyes of the people: to play the role of gossips, to discredit the other, to remove his authority, to do this awful thing. And they were sent to do this. And these scribes arrived with a specific and terrible accusation — they spared no means; they went straight to the point and said: “He is possessed by Beelzebul, and by the prince of demons he casts out the demons” (v. 22). That is, the prince of demons is the one who drives Him, which is more or less tantamount to saying: “He is possessed by demons”. In fact Jesus healed many sick people, and the scribes wanted to make others believe that he did so not with the Spirit of God — as Jesus did — but with that of the Evil One, with the power of the devil. Jesus reacted with firm and clear words; he did not tolerate this, because those scribes, perhaps without realizing it, were falling into the gravest sin: denying and blaspheming against God’s Love which is present and active in Jesus. And blasphemy, the sin against the Holy Spirit, is the one unforgivable sin — as Jesus said — because it comes from closing the heart to God’s mercy which acts in Jesus.

But this episode contains an admonishment which is useful to all of us. Indeed, it can happen that deep envy of a person’s goodness and good works can drive one to falsely accuse him or her. Here there is true, lethal poison: the malice with which, in a premeditated manner, one wants to destroy the good reputation of the other. May God free us from this terrible temptation! And if, by examining our conscience, we realize that this weed is sprouting within us, let us go straight away to confess it in the Sacrament of Penance, before it grows and produces its evil effects, which are incurable. Be careful, because this attitude destroys families, friendships, communities and even society.

Today’s Gospel also speaks to us about another, very different misunderstanding with regard to Jesus: that of his brethren. They were worried, because his new itinerant life seemed folly to them (cf. v. 21). In fact, he exhibited such openness toward the people, especially toward the sick and toward sinners, to the extent that he did not even have time to eat. Jesus was like that: people first; serving people; helping people; teaching people; healing people. He was for the people. He did not even have time to eat. Thus, his brethren decided to take him back home to Nazareth. His brethren came to the place where Jesus was teaching and they sent to him and called him. He was told: “‘Your mother and your brethren are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied: ‘Who are my mother and my brethren?’. And looking around on those who sat about him, he said ‘Here are my mother and my brethren! Whoever does the will of God is my brother, and sister, and mother’” (vv. 32-35).

Jesus formed a new family, no longer based on natural ties, but on faith in him, on his love which welcomes us and unites us to each other, in the Holy Spirit. All those who welcome Jesus’ word are children of God and brothers and sisters among themselves. Welcoming the word of Jesus makes us brothers and sisters, makes us Jesus’ family. Speaking ill of others, destroying others’ reputations, makes us the devil’s family.

Jesus’ response was not a lack of respect for his mother and his brethren. Rather, for Mary it is the greatest recognition, precisely because she herself is the perfect disciple who completely obeyed God’s will. May the Virgin Mother help us to live always in communion with Jesus, recognizing the work of the Holy Spirit who acts in him and in the Church, regenerating the world to new life.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 10 June 2018]

16th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)   [19 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Wisdom (12:3, 16–19)

The Book of Wisdom, written in Greek by a Jew from Alexandria shortly before the coming of Christ, is addressed to people steeped in Greek culture, which exalted intelligence and philosophy as the highest paths to knowledge. The author, however, reminds us that true wisdom belongs to God and that his mysteries are not attained through human knowledge, but are received as a gift and with humility. This is the same truth that Jesus expresses when he points out that the Father reveals his secrets to the little ones rather than to the wise of this world (Mt 11:25, Lk 10:21). The central theme of the text is the relationship between omnipotence and mercy. On the one hand, God is the absolute Lord of the universe: there is no other God; he rules over all things and possesses infinite power. On the other hand, this power is not manifested through violence, but through gentleness and goodness: God cares for all things, judges with leniency, governs with tenderness and, after sin, always offers the possibility of conversion. The author puts forward a surprising idea: God is merciful precisely because he is almighty. Human beings, often insecure about their own authority, feel the need to flaunt their power; God, on the other hand, who possesses all power, has nothing to prove. This is why his power is expressed in patience, forgiveness and tenderness. This image of God is the fruit of a long journey of revelation. Through the prophets, Israel learnt that God is not a tyrannical ruler, but a loving Father. Like Elijah on Mount Horeb, believers discover that God does not reveal himself in the storm or the earthquake, but in the gentle breeze. His strength is unobtrusive yet invincible, for it is the strength of love. This discovery also has implications for humankind. If we are created in God’s image, we are called to imitate his way of acting. Therefore, the righteous do not seek domination or violence, but humanity, compassion and service. Jesus takes up this same teaching when he instructs his disciples that the logic of power must not prevail amongst them, but rather that of the service of love (Mk 9:35; Mt 20:26–27; Mt 23:11; Lk 22:26). In short, God’s greatness does not lie in dominating by force, but in saving through mercy; and his omnipotence is manifested in forbearance, forgiveness and the ability to always offer humankind a new chance. Those who wish to resemble God must make goodness—and not power—the measure of their lives.

Responsorial Psalm (85/86)  

In this psalm, the image of a tender and merciful God emerges, one who reveals his power through mercy. If we read the psalm in the light of the first reading, taken from the Book of Wisdom, we realise that the author marvels at both God’s greatness and his tenderness. One explains the other, for if God is forgiving towards humankind, it is precisely because He is almighty. And this dual emphasis – forgiveness and greatness – recurs in the stanzas of the psalm: the 1st and 3rd stanzas focus on forgiveness; the second stanza is about greatness.  First stanza: ‘You who are good and forgiving, you are full of mercy towards those who call upon you.’  Third stanza: ‘You, Lord, are a merciful and compassionate God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Turn to me and have mercy.’  2nd stanza: “Great are You and You work wonders; You alone are God”. In the third stanza, “a merciful and compassionate God” leads us to God’s great revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai (Ex 34:6). It comes at the worst possible moment, immediately after the episode of the golden calf, when Moses, in his anger, had broken the tablets of the Law. The Covenant had been desecrated by the people, who had made themselves an idol. God does not renounce the Covenant: he tells Moses to carve two new stone tablets, upon which he will inscribe the same words. This is a sign of mercy. And it is precisely here that he says: “God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger…”. It is interesting to note Moses’ reaction here (cf. Ex 34:8–9). The author of the psalm reacts just as Moses did: he recalls God’s mercy and ‘takes Him at His word’, imploring Him: ‘You, Lord, God of tenderness and compassion… Turn your gaze upon me and have mercy on me’.  In all our prayers, we too recall his merciful plan for humanity and implore him to hasten its fulfilment (cf. Rom 8:26–27). The parallel with the Book of Exodus continues because, following the revelation and Moses’ response, God establishes a covenant (cf. Ex 34:10). But the psalm adds something new compared with the Book of Exodus, as it was written much later. During the Babylonian exile, Israel became aware of the universal nature of God’s plan—namely, that all nations are called to know him. But how can they come to know him? By discovering God’s work on behalf of his people. The Jewish people do not presume to convert others, but they understand that God’s work on their behalf becomes a means of conversion for other nations: if they open their eyes, they recognise the God of Israel as their Saviour and turn to him. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:26–27)

Saint Paul has already said that the life of the baptised is under the influence of the Spirit. He emphasises once again the role of the Holy Spirit (in this chapter he mentions him 18 times). He highlights that the life of the baptised unfolds entirely under his influence, if we allow ourselves to be guided by him. The Spirit dwells within us, and God’s great plan is like the process of childbirth. The labour pains are the prelude to great joy. “I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed… We know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth.” And it is the Spirit who guides our prayer, as we read in this very brief text which nevertheless contains an important contrast: on the one hand, in the last verse: ‘it is in accordance with God’s will that the Spirit intercedes for the saints’; on the other: ‘he comes to the aid of our weakness, for we do not know how to pray as we ought’. It teaches us that we pray by entering into God’s will, looking at the world and at ourselves through God’s eyes; rejoicing in the signs—however small—of the Kingdom’s advance, which are brotherhood, sharing, solidarity and respect. We must never lose heart in the face of humanity’s slow progress, for the Spirit blows ceaselessly even if it is not always visible. The reference to the Lord’s Prayer is immediate: ‘Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven’—three expressions that draw us into God’s plans.  We need the help of the Holy Spirit to enlighten our prayer, just as Jesus promised: “I will pray to the Father, and he will give you another Paraclete to be with you for ever” (Jn 14:16). He knows the secrets of God’s plan, as Paul so aptly puts it: “The Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God… We have not received the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who comes from God, so that we may know what God has bestowed upon us’ (1 Cor 2:10–12). And the model is Jesus, always guided by the Spirit: his whole life is marked by the fulfilment of the Father’s mission, right up to Gethsemane, when he proclaims, ‘Father, not my will, but yours be done’ (Mark 14:36). And the author of the Letter to the Hebrews sums up his life thus: “Upon entering the world, Christ says… ‘Behold, I have come to do your will, O God’” (Hebrews 10:5, 9).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:24–43) 

The parable of the weeds is not primarily intended to explain the origin of evil, although it reaffirms a fundamental principle: God is not the author of evil. As in the account in Genesis, everything God has created is good; the owner of the field sows only good wheat, whilst the weeds are the work of an enemy. In the context of the Gospel of Matthew, however, this parable is linked to that of the sower. Having shown that the proclamation of the Kingdom does not always bear the hoped-for fruit, Jesus addresses a new question: why not immediately remove what stands in the way of good? The servants suggest pulling up the weeds, but the owner forbids this so as not to uproot the wheat as well. Only at harvest time will the separation take place.

The message is clear: it is not for human beings to pass final judgement or to eliminate evil in others; this task belongs to God. Jesus therefore invites us to live with the simultaneous presence of good and evil in the world and within communities, avoiding elitist or fanatical attitudes. Matthew was probably addressing a community tempted to draw a rigid distinction between the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’. At the end of time, God will make the final judgement. The Bible often presents judgement as a separation between the righteous and the wicked, but the reality is deeper: the line separating good from evil runs through the heart of every person. No one is merely righteous or merely holy, but we all carry within us both the good wheat and the weeds. God will not destroy the good along with the evil: he will save that which, in each of us, is capable of bearing fruit. After the parable of the weeds, Jesus tells the parables of the mustard seed and the yeast. Whilst the previous parables highlighted the obstacles to the Kingdom, these reveal its inner strength. What is small and hidden inevitably grows to full realisation: the seed becomes a great tree and the yeast causes the whole dough to rise. Herein lies the central teaching that Jesus sets out in three fundamental attitudes: trust, because the Kingdom of God grows even when we cannot see it; patience, because the harvest will come at the time appointed by God; and humility, because no one can consider themselves entirely righteous or authorised to judge others. God’s patience stems from his desire not to lose even a single good ear of corn amongst the weeds. But above all, it reveals that God never ceases to hope for humanity’s conversion and for the transformation of the ‘tares’ in our hearts into good grain. This is the true meaning of his merciful patience.     

+Giovanni D’Ercole

15th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [12 July 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (55:10–11)

The central theme of this passage is the image of rain: the Word of God is life-giving rain; it does not return until it has fulfilled its mission of forgiveness and reconciliation. This oracle concludes the Second Isaiah (Isaiah 40–55) As prophets often do, Isaiah uses an image: rain and snow are daydreams for an Eastern farmer accustomed to often arid soil. In Babylon, where he is in exile with his people in the 6th century BC, the benefits of rain are experienced. A sun-drenched land, such as Israel or Babylon, flourishes anew at the first rain. The prophet applies this effectiveness to the Word of God: ‘So shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth: it shall not return to me empty.’ Isaiah emphasises this effectiveness for two reasons. 1) He announces the end of the Exile and the return to Jerusalem. For 50 years, the inhabitants of Jerusalem have been in exile in Babylon. Isaiah promises, on God’s behalf, their liberation and their departure from Babylon. To believe in a promise long awaited requires trust in the Word of God. This is why Isaiah is so firm: ‘my word… shall not return to me empty…’. Statements about the effectiveness of the Word (‘Davar’ means both ‘word’ and ‘event’) are always made during difficult times in Israel’s history, when it is necessary to cling to faith.  Examples: ‘All flesh is like grass… dry grass; the flower withers, but the word of our God stands for ever’ (Isa 40:6–8); ‘I am watching over my word to bring it to pass’ (Jer 1:12). These words were spoken to combat idolatry, for during the exile the temptation was strong amongst the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who, in the face of defeat, thought it better to turn to the gods of the victorious Babylonians, since they were effective. There is a sarcastic passage by the prophet Isaiah: poor people who use the same wood to make a fire and to carve idols; then they expect help from those lifeless idols they have made themselves (cf. Isa 44).  2) The other reason for emphasising the power of the word is that the ‘mission’ of the Word is forgiveness and reconciliation. Immediately before this text, he notes: ‘Seek the Lord whilst he may be found; call upon him whilst he is near. Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, who will have mercy on him, and to our God, who abundantly forgives. For my thoughts are not your thoughts…’ (Isaiah 55:6–8).  The ‘mission’ referred to here is therefore a mission to proclaim God’s free forgiveness and the reconciliation of humanity with Him: God will ultimately reconcile humanity to Himself. Later, Paul will say the same: ‘God our Saviour desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth’ (1 Tim 2:4). This plan of God is fulfilled through the Incarnation of the Word and the sending of the disciples as ambassadors of reconciliation: “God has reconciled us to himself through Christ and has entrusted to us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Cor 5:18). 

Responsorial Psalm (64/65)

Psalm 64 is a votive offering from a people written upon their return from exile to thank God for their deliverance: on the surface, it is a song of renewed creation, but it is not merely a song about nature. The liturgy presents us only with the final verses (10–14), which appear to be a contemplation of nature, but the preceding verses are fundamental, and without them the true meaning of the psalm is lost. This is a vow of thanksgiving for the return from exile, made in Babylon in the 6th century BC: if God frees us and brings us back to Israel, we shall celebrate in his temple. Deliverance is experienced as forgiveness because the exile was regarded as a punishment for the sins of the people and their leaders, and the return is a ‘return to favour’: God wipes the sinful past clean.  ‘Our sins have overwhelmed us; you forgive them’. It is clear that Israel’s election becomes a mission, and the people celebrate God’s faithfulness: “Blessed are those whom you have chosen and brought near: they shall dwell in your courts.” Just as the Levites had a special place to serve God in the temple, so Israel has a special place amongst the nations: when the other nations see Israel’s salvation, they will recognise that the God of Israel is the only Saviour. With the return to the homeland, a new life begins; it is a true re-creation. For this reason, the final bucolic section should not be separated from the central theme, which is thanksgiving. Lush nature is an image of new life and of God’s greatest gift: forgiveness

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Romans (8:18–23)

Creation is not complete; it is a work in progress and eagerly awaits the revelation of the children of God. This means that creation is not an event of the past: it is an ongoing project, comparable to a work of art.  Let us imagine the creation of an immense bronze sculpture. From the very first day, the artist knows that it will require patience and time: the process involves many successive stages.  There are hardships, struggles and risks to face; one must have a clear understanding of where this sometimes thankless work is leading and assess every possible difficulty. Only the artist can already visualise the finished work in his mind, but the challenge lies in how to describe the glimpsed beauty to his collaborators, and to share it with them with the same passion. God’s project is comparable to the birth of a work of art: Paul speaks specifically of ‘childbirth’. Only God, for now, can describe the finished work. And who has the mission to complete it? We do, each in our own small way, but above all the Spirit who breathes upon the world to direct it towards God. ‘We have received the firstfruits of the Spirit, but we await adoption as children, the redemption of our body’. In the biblical sense, ‘body’ refers to our whole being. Redemption of the body: our whole being, still in chains today, bound by sin, will finally be set free and free to live as children of God. We speak of the ‘firstfruits’, which biblically refer to the first handful of ears of corn or the firstborn lamb of the flock in spring. They were both the beginning and the promise of the entire harvest. A beautiful image to convey that we already possess the down payment of our ultimate salvation: “the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom 5:5). And it is because we already possess the firstfruits, because we are already animated by the Spirit, that we groan as we await our final transformation. Yet it is always the Spirit who continues the work in the world.  In the Fourth Eucharistic Prayer we say: “ He – your Son – has sent from you, Father, as a first gift to believers, the Holy Spirit who continues his work in the world and brings every sanctification to fulfilment”. “Every sanctification” – that is, every transformation.  For now, creation is still “subject to futility”, but in the new heavens and new earth that we await, towards which we strive, this energy will become a passion for unity: ‘According to his promise, we await new heavens and a new earth, in which righteousness dwells’ (2 Pet 3:13). Then creation will be ‘set free from the bondage of corruption to enter into the freedom of the glory of the children of God’.  Paul speaks of the whole of creation and the cosmos, not just of us. He takes up a theme familiar to the Bible: the disharmony caused by Adam’s wrong choice plunges the entire garden—that is, the whole of creation—into chaos: “The ground shall be cursed because of you” (Gen 3:17).  Conversely, when righteousness dwells on the earth, not only humans but also animals will know peace. Humanity is part of the cosmos and cannot be conceived of without it. This is one of the meanings of Isaiah’s magnificent ‘parable’ of the animals: ‘The wolf shall dwell with the lamb… the lion shall feed on straw like the ox… They shall do no harm or destroy any more on all my holy mountain, for the knowledge of the Lord shall fill the earth as the waters cover the sea’ (Isaiah 11:6–9). As Paul says in Ephesians: it is ‘the whole universe, the things in heaven and on earth’ that will one day be brought together under one Head, Christ (Ephesians 1:9–10). It is our privilege to be able to catch a glimpse of the completed work even now. Returning to the analogy of the work of art: we who are engaged in God’s plan have an immense privilege compared to an artist’s collaborators: we can already glimpse the completed work: “The Word became flesh and dwelt amongst us; and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (Jn 1:14).  Meanwhile, this great labour of bringing forth the new humanity continues amidst pain and groaning. All the more reason for believers to find the courage to proclaim, even now, the glory promised to all creation.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (13:1–23)

Jesus speaks in parables because the ‘parable’ is a literary genre of the Jewish tradition, similar to a narrative with a pedagogical purpose, designed to lead the listener to change their perspective. A parable is not an allegory: not every detail has a precise meaning; the lesson comes from the overall context.  

  The disciples ask why Jesus speaks in parables, and Jesus gives three reasons: firstly, to distinguish between the disciples and the crowd: ‘To you it has been given to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven, but to them it has not been given.’ Secondly, to console them, because their opponents ‘look without seeing, listen without hearing or understanding’. Jesus quotes a passage from Isaiah to them: “This people’s heart has grown callous; their ears are hard of hearing, and they have closed their eyes…” (Isaiah 6:9–10). Thirdly, to recall the Old Testament theme of the two paths: “To those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have not, even what they have will be taken away.” In Matthew and Mark, this teaching in parables immediately follows the disputes with the Pharisees and with those who refuse to recognise Jesus as the Messiah, revealing their hardened hearts and their imperviousness to the Word. Indeed, the more the listeners shut themselves away in their certainties, the more impervious they become to the Word. The parables are a pedagogical means of touching those hardened hearts. However, the disposition of the heart is decisive in understanding Jesus. I shall now return to these words: ‘To those who have, more will be given’ – which is the theme of the two paths already present in the Old Testament and which always presents human existence as a crossroads. If you take the right path, every step brings you closer to your goal: ‘Give to the wise, and he will become wiser still; instruct the righteous, and he will increase his knowledge’ (Prov 9:9). If, on the other hand, you choose the wrong path, every step takes you further away. A clear choice is therefore required: either to listen, to open your ears to be taught and transformed by the Word; or to refuse to listen and become increasingly hard of hearing. In the parable of the sower, Jesus shows what the obstacles to preaching are.  Jesus is the Word of God made flesh (Jn 1:14); and he communicates only the Father’s Word: “The word that you hear is not mine, but the Father’s who sent me” (Jn 14:24). Yet he finds it difficult to find fertile ground.  What are the difficulties involved in listening to the Word? First of all, the cares of the world which choke out the demands of the Kingdom (Mt 6:25–34). A deeper difficulty is not trusting Jesus and recognising him as the Messiah. The disciples themselves stumbled: after the discourse on the bread of life, many said, ‘This teaching is hard! Who can accept it?’ From that moment on, many of the disciples turned back, and Jesus said to the Twelve, ‘Do you also wish to go away?’ Peter replied, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life’ (John 6:60–68). Despite the difficulties, Jesus proclaims that the harvest—‘a hundredfold, sixtyfold or thirtyfold’—is certain, though it comes at a high price. The Kingdom of God will be established through many failures. To enter into the understanding of the Kingdom is solely a gift from God: ‘It has been granted to you to know the mysteries of the Kingdom of Heaven… Blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear…’ Those who have received the seed in good soil are those who hear the Word and understand it with a receptive heart, capable of receiving from God the light that comes only from Him. This openness, too, is a gift. The Pharisees and the crowd were not yet ready. Jesus had Ezekiel in mind when he said, ‘Those who received the seed among the thorns are those who hear the Word, but the cares of the world and the allure of wealth choke the Word.’ Ezekiel writes: “They come to you as a people gather; they listen to your words, but do not put them into practice; their mouths are full of lusts, their hearts are set on gain. To them you are like a love song, with a sweet voice, well played” (Ezek 33:30–32).  

+ Giovanni D’Ercole