Pentecost Sunday (Year C)  [8 June 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! On the feast of Pentecost, like Mary and the apostles, let us prepare our hearts to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit who transforms us into fire and light of love. Today, the first reading and the responsorial psalm are common to years A, B, and C, while the second reading and the Gospel are different each year.

*First reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:1-11)

Jerusalem is not only the city where Jesus instituted the Eucharist, died and rose again, but it is also the city where the Spirit was poured out upon humanity. It was the year of Jesus' death, but the people in the city had probably never heard of his death, let alone his resurrection, so the feast of Pentecost was like any other for them. The Jewish Pentecost was very important because it was the feast of the giving of the Law, one of the three feasts of the year for which people went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and the list of all the nationalities present on that occasion proves its great interest. For the disciples of Jesus, who had seen, heard and touched him after his resurrection, nothing was the same as before, even if they did not expect what was about to happen. Luke helps us to understand what is happening by choosing his words carefully and evoking at least these three texts from the Old Testament: the gift of the Law at Sinai, a prophecy of Joel, and the episode of the Tower of Babel. First of all, Sinai. The tongues of fire and the sound like a mighty wind recall what happened at Sinai when God gave the tablets of the Law to Moses (Exodus 19:16-19).  Following this line, Luke helps us understand that Pentecost was not simply a traditional pilgrimage, but a new Sinai, where God gave his Law to teach the people how to live in the Covenant. At Pentecost, He gave His own Spirit, and from then on, His Law, the only true path to freedom and happiness, was no longer written on stone tablets but in the hearts of men, as Ezekiel had prophesied (Ezekiel 11:19-20; 36:26-27). The prophet Joel: Luke certainly wanted to evoke a word of Joel: 'I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh, says God' (Joel 3:1), that is, on all humanity. For Luke, those devout Jews from all nations under heaven, as he calls them, are a symbol of the whole of humanity, for whom Joel's prophecy is finally fulfilled, and this means that the long-awaited 'Day of the Lord' has come. The Tower of Babel is an event that can be summarised in two acts: Act 1: Men, who speak the same language and the same words, decide to build an immense tower between the earth and the sky. Act 2: God stops them and scatters them across the earth, confusing their languages, and from that moment on they no longer understand each other. What is the meaning of this story? God certainly does not want to stifle man's potential, and if He intervenes, He does so to spare humanity the false path of single-minded thinking and a human project that excludes God. It is as if He were saying: you are seeking unity, which is a good thing, but you are going about it the wrong way, because unity in love does not come through standardisation, but through diversity. And this is the message of Pentecost: at Babel, humanity learns diversity; at Pentecost, it learns unity in diversity, 'conviviality' (as Don Tonino Bello writes), because all nations hear the proclamation, each in its own language, of the one message: 'Magnalia Dei, the great works of God' (Acts 2:11).

*Responsorial Psalm (103 (104), 1.24, 29-30, 31.34)

This psalm has 36 verses of praise and wonder at the works of God, a beautiful poem. It is proposed for the feast of Pentecost because Luke, in the book of the Acts of the Apostles, recounts that on the morning of Pentecost, the apostles, filled with the Holy Spirit, began to proclaim in all languages the 'great works of God' of creation. All civilisations have poems about the beauty of nature. In particular, a poem written by the famous pharaoh Akhenaten (Amenhotep IV) was found in Egypt in the tomb of a pharaoh, a hymn to the Sun God. Amenhotep IV lived around 1350 BC, at a time when the Jews were probably in Egypt and may have known this poem. There are similarities in style and vocabulary between the pharaoh's poem and Psalm 103/104, but what is interesting is to note the differences marked by God's revelation to the people of the Covenant. First difference: God alone is God, an essential difference for the faith of Israel: God is the only God, there are no others, and the sun is not a god. The account of creation in the book of Genesis puts the sun and moon in their place: they are not gods, but luminaries, themselves simple creatures. Several verses show God as the only Lord of creation using royal language: God presents himself as a magnificent, majestic and victorious king. Second peculiarity: Creation is all good, and here there is an echo of Genesis, which repeats tirelessly: 'And God saw that it was good'. This psalm evokes all the elements of creation with the same wonder: 'I rejoice in the Lord', and the psalmist adds (in a verse not read this Sunday): 'I will sing to the Lord as long as I live, I will sing praise to my God while I have my breath'. However, evil is not ignored: the end of the psalm mentions it and invokes its disappearance, since it was already understood in the Old Testament that evil does not come from God, because all creation is good and one day God will remove all evil from the earth: the victorious King will eliminate everything that hinders human happiness. Third peculiarity: Creation is continuous, not an act of the past, as if God had thrown the earth and man into space once and for all, but a perennial relationship between the Creator and his creatures. When we say in the Creed: "I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth," we are not only affirming our faith in an initial act, but we are recognising that we are in a necessary relationship with him, and this psalm reiterates this by speaking of God's constant action: "All wait for you... You hide your face, they are dismayed... You take away their breath, they die and return to their dust. You send forth your spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth." Another peculiarity: Man is the culmination of creation. According to the Jewish faith, man is at the summit of creation, the king of creation, and for this reason he is filled with the breath of God. And this is precisely what we celebrate at Pentecost: the Spirit of God who is in us vibrates and resonates with man and with all creation, and the psalmist sings: 'Let God rejoice in his works! I rejoice in the Lord." In conclusion, creation makes sense in the light of the Covenant: In Israel, every reflection on creation is placed in the perspective of the Covenant, since Israel first experienced liberation by God and only afterwards meditated on creation in the light of this fundamental experience. There are visible traces of this in the psalm: First of all, the name of God used is always the famous tetragrammaton YHWH, which we translate as Lord, the name of the God of the Covenant, revealed to Moses. Furthermore, in the expression, 'Lord, my God, how great you are', the possessive is a reference to the Covenant, since God's plan in the Covenant was precisely this: 'You shall be my people, and I will be your God'. This promise is fulfilled in the gift of the Spirit to all flesh, as the prophet Joel proclaims, and every person is invited to receive the gift of the Spirit to become a true child of God.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:8–17)

 The main difficulty in this text lies in the word 'flesh', which in St Paul's vocabulary does not have the same meaning as in our vocabulary, where the two components of the human being, body and soul, are often contrasted, with the risk of misinterpreting what Paul means when he speaks of flesh and Spirit. What he calls 'flesh' is not what we call body, and what he calls 'Spirit' does not correspond to what we call soul; indeed, he specifies several times that it is the Spirit of God, 'the Spirit of Christ'. He does not contrast two words, 'flesh' and 'Spirit', but two expressions: 'living according to the flesh' and 'living according to the Spirit', that is, choosing between two ways of living, or rather deciding whom to follow and what course of action to take. Here we return to the theme of the two paths that every Jew, like St Paul, knows well: choosing between two paths, between two possible attitudes in the face of difficulties or trials: trust in God or distrust; the certainty of never feeling abandoned by God or the doubt and suspicion that God does not really seek our good; fidelity to his commandments because we trust him, or disobedience because we consider ourselves capable of autonomous decisions. The history of Israel in the Bible (think of Massah and Meribah in the Book of Exodus) presents numerous examples of mistrust in the face of life's trials, especially in the desert, where the people faced many trials, including hunger and thirst. When the people suspected that God had abandoned them, they put God and Moses on trial. Even Adam, faced with the limits placed on his desires, suspected and disobeyed the Lord. The temptation of Adam and Eve in Eden is repeated in our lives every day: it is the constant problem of trust and distrust, the so-called 'original' sin in the sense that it is at the root of all human disasters. Opposed to suspicion and rebellion against God is Christ's attitude of trust and submission because he knows that God's will is only good. Especially in the face of the challenges of pain in all its forms and death, there are two opposing attitudes that Paul calls 'living according to the flesh' or 'living according to the Spirit'. For him, living according to the flesh means behaving like slaves who do not trust and obey out of obligation or fear of punishment. "Living according to the Spirit," on the other hand, means "behaving like children," that is, weaving relationships of trust and tenderness which, following Christ's example, lead to life. Living under the influence of the flesh (i.e., in an attitude of distrust and disobedience towards God) leads to death, while living through the Spirit is to put to death the works of sin. In other words, the attitude of a slave is destructive, while the attitude of a child is the way to peace and happiness. The Spirit of God, who dwells in us through baptism, enables us to call God 'Abba-Father', and on the day when all humanity recognises God as Father, the divine plan will be fulfilled, and we will all enter into his glory together. A few verses later, Paul notes that creation eagerly awaits the revelation of the children of God. Finally, today's text reminds us that since we are children of God, we are also heirs of God, co-heirs with Christ, on condition that we suffer with him in order to be with him in glory. This text can be read in two ways: the slave imagines a God who sets conditions on inheritance; instead, the son considers God as Father even and above all in suffering. Suffering is inevitable, as it was for Christ, but lived with him and like him, it becomes a path to resurrection, and then 'on condition that we suffer with him' means: on condition that we are with him, that we remain united to him at all times, even in inevitable suffering.

*From the Gospel according to John (14:15-16, 23b-26)

 This well-known Gospel passage takes on new meaning today thanks to the other biblical texts proposed for the feast of Pentecost. For example, we are tempted to think of the Holy Spirit in terms of inspiration, ideas, discernment, intelligence, but for the feast of the gift of the Spirit, today's Gospel speaks only of love. Jesus says here that the Spirit of God is something else entirely: it is Love, Love personified. This means that on the morning of Pentecost in Jerusalem, when the disciples were filled with the Holy Spirit, it was love itself, which is God, that filled them. In the same way, we too, baptised and confirmed, know that our capacity to love is inhabited by the love of God himself. The responsorial psalm 103/104 reminds us of this when it proclaims: You send forth your Spirit, and we, created in the image of God, are called to resemble him more and more, constantly moulded by him in his image. The Spirit is the potter who works his clay, and every vessel becomes more and more refined in the hands of the craftsman. We are the clay in God's hands, so our likeness to Him is refined more and more as we allow ourselves to be transformed by the Spirit of Love. In the second reading, St. Paul speaks of our relationship with God, summarising it in one sentence: we are no longer slaves, but children of God, while in the Gospel, Jesus links our relationship with God to our relationship with our brothers and sisters: "If you love me, you will keep my commandments" (Jn 14:15), and we know well what his commandment is: 'that you love one another as I have loved you' (Jn 13:34).  If Jesus is referring to the gesture of washing feet, that is, to a decisive attitude of service, we can translate "if you love me, you will keep my commandments" as "if you love me, you will serve one another". God's love and love for our brothers and sisters are inseparable, so inseparable that it is by the quality of our service to our neighbour that the quality of our love for God is judged and therefore "if you do not serve your brothers and sisters, do not claim to love me!"  A little further on, Jesus takes up a similar expression and develops it: "If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him" (Jn 14:23). This does not mean that the Father in heaven does not love us if we do not serve our brothers and sisters, because there are no conditions or blackmail in him. On the contrary, the characteristic of mercy is precisely to bend down even more towards the poor, as we are all poor, at least in terms of love and service to others. Love is learned by practising it, but what the Lord is telling us here is something we know well: the ability to love is an art, and every art is learned by practising it. The Father's love is boundless, infinite, but our capacity to receive it is limited and grows as we practise it. We can therefore translate this as follows: 'If anyone loves me, he will put himself at the service of others and little by little, his heart will expand; the love of God will fill him more and more, and he will be able to serve others even better... and so on to infinity," that is, in unlimited progress. Let us conclude by returning to the term "Paraclete," which can be translated as comforter and defender. Yes, we need a defender, but not before God, and St. Paul makes this clear in the second reading: The Spirit you have received does not make you slaves, people who are still afraid, but rather the Spirit who makes you children (cf. Rom 8:15).  We are therefore no longer afraid of God and we do not need a lawyer before Him. But then why does Jesus say that he will pray to the Father, and he will give us another defender, to remain with us forever? Yes, we need an advocate, who defends us from ourselves, from our reluctance to serve others, from our lack of trust in God's power, who constantly defends the cause of others against our selfishness because, in doing so, he actually defends us, since true happiness consists in allowing ourselves to be moulded every day by God in his image, overcoming all selfish resistance.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Alternative Pentecost Vigil

(Jn 7:37-39)

During the Feast of Tabernacles - on the occasion of the fruit harvest - the priests performed the ritual of water, carrying it in a golden jug from the pool of Siloah ['Sent'] to the Temple (where it was poured to ask for autumn rain).

The rite is customized by Jesus, who invites the crowds to drink from Wisdom: those who welcome Him will have within them a spring of life, an expression of the divine gold that is bestowed upon all his intimates - enabled to renew all things.

Invitation to come to Christ and quench one's thirst of Him, and Promise of the same divine Spirit for those who drink from his Person. Here the Lord replaces the Torah.

To say: we cannot fully exist without humanity quenching its thirst at Beverage that provides fullness of being.

The Lord matches what we seek, and exceeds it, making of each one a sanctuary that irrigates.

A personal, abundant Source of life-giving currents - even in deserts, to turn them into gardens.

Pentecost is in Christ an ultimate and springing moment. Fire and Wave.

Unlike in Acts 2, the Master does not use the impressive imagery of natural phenomena of the First Testament [thunder, earthquakes, hurricanes, lightning, fire] to narrate the living manifestation of God in believers.

In order to portray the outpouring of the Spirit, the breaking down of barriers and the project of a new Wisdom, Jesus uses the quiet image of a Water that is to be absorbed, that makes persons grow and - in time - produces life.

The path of Revelation and Covenant in the Spirit is revealed to be progressive - up to Him, in whom it finds its culmination.

Crowning that transfuses itself into the regenerated people: they (from fearless who were) become heralds and pioneers.

The new Creation, the new mothers and fathers expression of His victory over death, are not born from dust, but from the same «blood mixed with water» of the «elevated» Christ [on the cross].

Flow that now pours into disciples - to sprout life in them, so as to provide, brighten up and cheer the path of others.

In the open relationship between God and man (who by grace makes his contribution to Heaven's exuberant plan) the whole of creation also becomes a participant in the Pact of Communion.

After an initial cosmic alliance of peace with Noah, here is a personal one with Abraham - in view of the «multitudes».

The project of internalization and personal appeal had already shifted towards humanity, but with Moses it becomes energy and design of Liberation.

In Christ the chosen and holy people lay down all privileges: they become authentic in the recovery of opposing sides, and universal.

"Israel" moves from common religious feeling and from improved awareness of history lived alongside the Eternal, to the depths of his Heart - up to our own: that is, to reinterpretation and unprecedented adventure; properly, of Faith.

From the Prophets to Christ, the Covenant becomes global.

Under sudden or cadenced Action of the Spirit, 'Water' that goes beyond and overflows, but if assimilated makes everything grow - all and even dissimilarity becomes motion towards Unity: even chaos activates new cohesions.

The ancient Pact stretches far beyond borders.

Its circles become wider and wider - without making one fear that events might get out of hand with God - in moments of quietness and pauses, or even in unending upheavals.

The Water that the leaders or prophets of the First Testament had seen gushing out of rocks or cracked crags becomes Living - with no more corruptions.

[Solemnity of Pentecost: Vigil, May 7/8, 2025]

Jn 7:37-39 (37-53)

The golden Pitcher and the River of Life

(Jn 7:37-39)

During the Feast of Tabernacles - on the occasion of the fruit harvest - the priests performed the ritual of water, carrying it in a golden jug from the pool of Siloah ['Sent'] to the Temple (where it was poured to ask for autumn rain).

The rite is customized by Jesus, who invites the crowds to drink from Wisdom: those who welcome Him will have within them a spring of life, an expression of the divine gold that is bestowed upon all his intimates - enabled to renew all things.

Invitation to come to Christ and quench one's thirst of Him, and Promise of the same divine Spirit for those who drink from his Person. Here the Lord replaces the Torah.

To say: we cannot fully exist without humanity quenching its thirst at Beverage that provides fullness of being.

The Lord matches what we seek, and exceeds it, making of each one a sanctuary that irrigates.

A personal, abundant Source of life-giving currents - even in deserts, to turn them into gardens.

Pentecost is in Christ an ultimate and springing moment. Fire and Wave.

Unlike in Acts 2, the Master does not use the impressive imagery of natural phenomena of the First Testament [thunder, earthquakes, hurricanes, lightning, fire] to narrate the living manifestation of God in believers.

In order to portray the outpouring of the Spirit, the breaking down of barriers and the project of a new Wisdom, Jesus uses the quiet image of a Water that is to be absorbed, that makes persons grow and - in time - produces life.

The path of Revelation and Covenant in the Spirit is revealed to be progressive - up to Him, in whom it finds its culmination.

Crowning that transfuses itself into the regenerated people: they (from fearless who were) become heralds and pioneers.

The new Creation, the new mothers and fathers expression of His victory over death, are not born from dust, but from the same «blood mixed with water» of the «elevated» Christ [on the cross].

Flow that now pours into disciples - to sprout life in them, so as to provide, brighten up and cheer the path of others.

In the open relationship between God and man (who by grace makes his contribution to Heaven's exuberant plan) the whole of creation also becomes a participant in the Pact of Communion.

After an initial cosmic alliance of peace with Noah, here is a personal one with Abraham - in view of the «multitudes».

The project of internalization and personal appeal had already shifted towards humanity, but with Moses it becomes energy and design of Liberation.

In Christ the chosen and holy people lay down all privileges: they become authentic in the recovery of opposing sides, and universal.

"Israel" moves from common religious feeling and from improved awareness of history lived alongside the Eternal, to the depths of his Heart - up to our own: that is, to reinterpretation and unprecedented adventure; properly, of Faith.

From the Prophets to Christ, the Covenant becomes global.

Under sudden or cadenced Action of the Spirit, 'Water' that goes beyond and overflows, but if assimilated makes everything grow - all and even dissimilarity becomes motion towards Unity: even chaos activates new cohesions.

The ancient Pact stretches far beyond borders.

Its circles become wider and wider - without making one fear that events might get out of hand with God - in moments of quietness and pauses, or even in unending upheavals.

The Water that the leaders or prophets of the First Testament had seen gushing out of rocks or cracked crags becomes Living - with no more corruptions.

How this man speaks: the primacy of the conscience of the plebs

(Jn 7:40-53)

In the Gospel passage the religious authorities judge everyone with contempt.

Those who have always fancied themselves masters will not be willing to become disciples of a subversive Revelation.

Unthinkable and undated novelty that dares to crumble pedestals and legalisms.

As the elite dump Christ, even the gendarmerie commanded to perpetuate and guard the security of the ancient world is stunned by the power of the new Word-Person.

The Lord replaces the Torah:

"Now on the last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried out, saying, If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink, he who believes in me. As Scripture has said: out of his belly shall flow rivers of Living Water" (vv.37-38).

He who comes into contact with the new Temple is guided by the intimate root in his womb, and wants to recognise it in himself.

As well as giving life, promoting it; loving, rejoicing life itself.

He himself becomes a bubbling Sanctuary, which begins to think and act in conscience - from his own (perhaps stifled, but indestructible) core.

A lesson in thinking from below, given to the 'superiors'.

An example that re-evaluates the theological judgement of the ungodly plebs (v.49).

And it is curious that the disobedience that saves the Christ present from seizure originates from a lack of minute knowledge of the Law.

There is a great confusion of opinions about Jesus among people. 

For the sects that have established the tyranny of norms, his unforeseen origin, neither mysterious nor overwhelming - unacceptable to calibrated thinking - is difficult.

Some consider him a son of David, others a Prophet; a deceiver or a good man (v.12) or someone who lacks studies (v.15).

The point is that He does not come to impose the old discipline again, nor to patch up the customs.

Not even to purify the Temple, renewing its propitiatory practice. 

Christ supplants him with the now of reality that reveals an inconceivable Face of God, which is grasped and expanded even from within each one of us.

It is by no means the quiet reconfirmation of the usual.

Tradition (written and oral) boasts deep-rooted arguments, but its fame causes confusion and harsh confrontation between opposing supporters, [even today] fashionable or not.

Nothing exceptional is ever found in this.

Fundamental is the understanding that we no longer need principals.

The distinction is the Person, in the uniqueness of his Vocation; not the point of view corresponding to a greatness or a mania.

It is in the unexpected Son that the present and the future arrive - not in a code of ideas that can summarise the cues of 'success' and embellish the already past.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (ii): 'The saint implements the unspoken teaching'. Master Wang Pi comments: "Spontaneity is enough for him. If he governs he corrupts".

Within each person dwells a naturalness that teaches, even to the masters of the law.

Spontaneity will not lead us to the feeble defence of Jesus made by Nicodemus (vv.51-53) who, in order to save the day, relies on another law, obvious after all.

When one stops wanting to be merely dependent - as one who is 'called' to stop the new that is appearing - there comes astonishment, the vertigo of God; different interests.

The Christ-icon of John 7 wants to develop in us the image and innate talent of the teacher of spirit who simply draws from personal experience of the Father, of himself and of reality.

We must not expect answers to always come from someone outside, assessed as more experienced - instead it is we who must teach the new one who comes to save us.

The Vocation by Name is entrusted to the unknown Rabbi who already dwells there - and wants to surface, expressing the unconscious divine already present.

The indispensable Gold, without induced mental burdens: only in conscience and character.

To internalise and live the message:

Do I feel capable of receiving the message of Life, or am I still stuck in the mechanism of the homologues who turn a blind eye and an ear?

Do I remain sensitive to the call of the Lord even in the details of a life without glory or under investigation?

Solemnity of Pentecost, living Tradition

In the Sacred Hymns, Manzoni compares the spiritual fall of humanity to the plummeting of a great stone down a "splintered" slope; a boulder that finally "beats on the bottom and stands".

By nature, we do not have the ability to push back our boulder, rolled downhill and "abandoned to the rush of noisy landslide" [nor indeed to provide for its splintering].

But the Lord knows man in his need, and knows that not infrequently - in the time of our distress - by expressing ourselves even hastily, we make situations worse.

It is a condition rather than a fault.

Heaven comes to help us internalise; to set us on the path to indestructible Happiness, preventing tears from destroying even the soul.

To this end, the Spirit disposes to experience an eminent Attinence, of Abode and Reciprocity, of Interpretation and Root.

Its powerful wind - Ruah - is called 'Holy' both for its supreme quality and for its activity: to 'sanctify', that is, to separate people from the chasm of self-destruction.

And a profound discernment on the subject of life and death is not within our grasp.

That is why no less than four of the traditional seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit have a character of profound knowledge.

The global understanding of things is what characterises the Gift of Wisdom [from the Latin sāpere, to have taste] that transmits to concrete existence the taste of God Himself.

Wisdom infuses the believer with a subtle understanding, from the divine point of view, of the panorama and the individual sections of our journey: doubtful, uncertain, conditioned by outline situations.

God's eye catches the person in his or her radical destitution, which seeks completion (just as the rush of attempts or external opinions and influences plays tricks).

This is why, in traditional ascetics, Wisdom - the standard of God - was considered to bring the theological virtue of Charity to perfection. 

In short, man in himself is not autonomous: he needs to be filled and saved.

Wisdom is the source of insight into our limitations: the principle of tolerance of others. 

It conveys a balanced connaturality, and a different 'scent' in relationships; a pillar of a life dedicated to the good.

The Gift of Intellect [intus-lēgere, to read within things] uncovers God's weave in history and helps one evaluate oneself.

Deciphering the signs of the times with insight, we discover the not purely earthly dimension of events. Thus, divine grains deposited in creation and happenings.

We see deeply: that is why it was considered a Gift that brings to perfection the theological virtue of Faith: it guides us to the heart of things and does not let us judge trivially.

The Council leads to the evaluative exercise of the cardinal virtue of Prudence.

Once upon a time, the spiritual fathers associated it with the explanation of the passage of the adulteress: she saved from the hypocrites and the old rotters made immediately and finally conscious.

A gift that makes us understand the Plan of Salvation and helps us decide for the best in situations of unforeseen urgency or immediate danger.

It is capacity for discernment against precipitation.

The Council emphasises dialogue and synergy with regard to practice and prospects for personal fulfilment.

E.g.: how many times have we listened to the advice of parents and grandparents - to understand the world and treasure their experience and expertise!

For us who struggle to discover the things at hand, such a Gift opens wide God's direction: what is expedient in order to our maturity and ultimate Purpose.

The Gift of Science also brings the virtue of Faith to perfection, as it makes us understand the (extraordinary) value and the (so ordinary) limit of creatures.

Science from above does not allow one to fall into materialism, nor contempt for worldly things - which ultimately is denial of the ineffable and supreme work of the Creator.

From the indescribably small of Quantum Physics, to the infinitely large of Relativity [and their strange universe of missing correlations] we marvel at God.

Everything speaks of Him and can lead us to the Eternal. However, nothing captures it absolutely.

Knowing reality on a broad spectrum - as well as the vital contribution of different viewpoints and cultures - can also make one understand one's neighbour.

And it induces one to behave competently among things: of thought, of psyche, of soul.

Love unsupported by a capacity for versed discernment not infrequently drifts.

In the age of the fake connoisseur and dirigiste, there is perhaps nothing more devastating than an unprepared person unleashed into action.

My carpenter father knew that the best in his field is not the craftsman who makes the most chips.

The ancient spiritual fathers gladly reiterated: 'per Scientiam homo cognoscit defecus suos et rerum mundanarum'.We see this in the approximate teachings and even in the paroxysms of theologies devoured by vanity: intimate and closed, or practical but external; disembodied, fable-like, or baleful.

Thanks to the Gift of Fortitude, by recognising ourselves as weak we make room for God's vigour, not only in great trials.

A pinprick action can crumble our life more than a sabre rattling.

And he who has no inner strength is sick, conformist in his difficulties; he staggers and washes his hands of it.

Minimalism attenuates, it enervates, it makes men become bonsai men, who vegetate for a long time - remaining shrunken.

Constancy, courage and tenacity are an aid to weakness; only with grit do we give our best, even in our relationship with God - perfecting the same cardinal virtue of fortitude.

The Gift of Pietas - a family virtue - infuses religion with the heart; the character of intimacy and tenderness.

It is a childlike feeling that integrates and thins out the slave's fear of the master.

At one time it was considered a Gift that brought to the summit the cardinal virtue of Justice [towards God] not as a duty of worship, but as an expression of friendship.

Recognition of Gratuity received without merit: creaturely and redemptive.

The Fear of God finally drove to perfection the theological virtue of Hope, the character of the living being that awaits everything from the Father.

Pentecost was a Jewish festival celebrating the gift of the Law. The change of pace of the Faith has transformed it into the birthday of the people who unfold the Lord's loving Face in history.

Not because of a different doctrine, but because of the Action of a Motive and Engine that brings us, and renews the world in a way you do not expect.

Perhaps with passive rather than active virtues. Thanks to an infused or innate Knowledge, spontaneous and natural, rather than artificial.

Dwelling in the Person led back to the Source and in the web of the We, the Father does not pronounce Himself by issuing laws like the God-master of ancient religions.

Rather, it is expressed in the polyphonic creativity of life and in the unheard of love - the only convincing language capable of edifying. 

Understandable to all.

In short, in the conviviality of differences each one is himself, in a relationship of enriching exchange.

Transparency in the flesh of the celestial condition.

Thus the Incarnation continues: reflection in the human of the unity, truth and intensity of Father-Son understanding.

Here even dust can become Splendour, because the complex of individual cardinal and theological virtues is sublimated and perfected in Relation: the We of the Spirit.

Such founding Eros is something else: even capable of transmuting our incoherence into an energetic state for New Horizons.

(Jn 14:15-16, 23-26)

Those who fall in love unleash a new energy: never again will they be orphans

(Jn 14:15-21)

Jesus replaces the commandments of legalistic religion with His own commandments (His own Person and His own values). One cannot love someone who is accustomed to keeping score.

The different expressions of love are infinitely more important than a code of laws - that of Moses - and the proliferation of rules typical of tradition, if it makes us nervous and dissatisfied (even if well-established).

The complacent person tends to drag himself along according to interpretations and ways of behaving that deviate from his own deepest being.

Attached to worn-out and obsolete rules, we continue to give old answers to new problems, refusing to accept emancipation and the joy of discovery. The same is true of innovations that bring us closer, of new ways of thinking that allow us to grasp God as alive, always present, and therefore capable, through his incessant action, of giving us a face that humanises us.

When they become excessively entrenched, deviant customs close us off to the impulses of the Spirit of Truth, and precisely in the name of God. In this way, they corrupt and supplant the purity of the Source and, in a cascade effect, the innate fragrance of our particular essences.

Instead, the Paraclete within us defends us from external hostilities and also from the inner powers that do evil: e.g., fears of responding to the authentic Call, cravings for power and appearance, which drag us away from life.

Attempts to enrich ourselves, yes, but seeking the most varied reciprocity of qualities and accentuating the same resources in our neighbour.

God reveals himself in a personal face, therefore the Spirit is the Defender who allows us to make mistakes.

He extinguishes the panic of unexpected beginnings, gives us a glimpse of the magic that protects us, and helps us to overcome the ambush of perfectionism, which always risks striking even the beginnings of our vocational endeavours.

The innate Friend frees us from our persona, our armour, our anxiety to perform, our desire not to disappoint the opinions and expectations of those around us. 

He brings us back down to earth and forces us to look inside ourselves. By losing ourselves and wandering, we will find our centre in him.

Our Ally helps us understand the meaning of bad moments—those that seem like a pile of misfortunes—the embarrassing moments, the failures, the times when (e.g., due to a series of bereavements and persecutions) it seems that we are attracting negativity like a magnet.

In critical situations, we are guided to detach ourselves from the exterior, which ends up drying us up and causing us to lose sight of our own Core, our hidden Spirit.

When the reality around us becomes precarious, our inner core is forced to find the right distance from external things.

If reality forces us to sweep everything away, we are put in a position where we have to seek and open up new paths: unexpected ideas, energies and initiatives will emerge.

Sometimes it will be chaos itself that solves the real problems, generated more by our habitual lifestyle (or point of view) than by reality.

Confusion perhaps arises too often, but it allows us to finally question our real interests, what we are not giving space to. For example, what aspects, inclinations, activities and relationships would deeply correspond to us and make us all feel good?

So instead of living distracted and carried along by dynamics that do not belong to us, we would learn to live intensely in the present. We would learn to welcome and read what the tide of life brings in terms of novelty, every day and from time to time.

By loosening our controls, judgements, project-driven anxieties, dirigisme and voluntarism, we would let the Gift become the Deposit, the real fact suggest the path, and take the lead in our experiences.

By giving in, step by step, we would learn to let ourselves be flooded: and it would be what invades us that would make us flourish again, through processes that elaborate the unthinkable.

If, by chance, we have muted our passions so as not to appear weak, or made artificial choices to favour consensus around us - and self-control... If we have not yet learned to be direct, the Paraclete will help bring out the free part, the part where our mission lies - instead of a showcase career (even an ecclesiastical one).

The more we are human in the harmony of the Love we have received, which is transformed into friendship communicated to ourselves and others, the more we will allow the divine Gold to emerge in us and in the harmonies that bring us back to the home that is truly ours.

By living our emotions with less interventionism, we would work with passion, expressing ourselves in our vocation and not as others expect us to; perhaps we would do things in a way that is completely contrary to expectations and intentions... 

But by breaking the monotony, we would allow opposing polarities to coexist, and the Heart would become increasingly friendly to our destiny.

In biblical terms, Spirit (Ruah) does not designate an ineffable entity, but a real one: it is a powerful breath, capable of blowing away everything that wants to remain fixed and installed.

God is Spirit not because he is invisible and unreachable, but because his action expresses an overwhelming, uncontainable, impetuous force. It is our dream to participate in this Wind with its unpredictable effects.

The Spirit moves and gives the impetus to set things in motion: the source of life, the instrument of God's work in history.

Religious law can also point in the right direction, but it does not give conviction, it does not make us understand the absurdity of love and its incredible fruitfulness, nor does it transmit to us the energy that leads us to our destination.

For this reason, Jesus is not a model, but a motive and a driving force: he did not just teach us a way, but he still communicates to us his impetus to achieve the goal of life.

His Spirit is called Paraclete ("called alongside", a term borrowed from legal language): a sort of lawyer who stood beside the defendant in court to exonerate him - in perfect silence.

It is the Spirit of Christ that renders evil powerless and accusations against us futile. In the face of difficulties, we can move forward without letting our arms fall.

The Spirit of the Lord is also at the service of Truth (theological): the Faithfulness of divine Love.

In short: while the Church offers new answers to new questions, it is the Spirit of Truth that ensures that the Gospel is not corrupted, but rather introduces disciples to the fullness of life and the unexpected richness and radicality of its own Call.

We will never say anything new, nor the opposite: by remaining open to its impulses, we will grasp to the full the Mystery that envelops the meaning of our life in Christ.

Dwelling and reciprocity, interpretation and roots

Generating from below

(Jn 14:21-26)

The Father's love unites us to Christ through a call that manifests itself wave upon wave. And on this path, the Son himself reveals himself, thanks also to authentic community life.

The Gospel passage reflects the question-and-answer catechesis typical of the Johannine communities in Asia Minor, committed to questioning themselves: this time the theme of misunderstanding is introduced by Judas, not Iscariot.

The Jews too had been waiting for an eloquent public statement in order to believe in the divine nature of Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps such a humble manifestation could only generate scepticism.

Why does He remain hidden, and why do even His closest friends not react more strongly? Wouldn't an open and sensational twist be more appropriate?

And why live through difficulties from within? Then, why were relationships considered 'important' viewed with growing aversion, as alien and irritating?

Well, the vulnerable messianism of Christ—apparently defensive, evasive—is not the kind that dispels doubts.

He remained unadorned. In this way, he did not lose his naturalness, as if he had perceived the danger of high-sounding aberrations, all external.

The authentic Messiah protected his identity, his human, spiritual and missionary character. In this way, he avoided all the excessive glorious titles expected in the theological culture of ancient Israel.

The life of faith in us also continues invisibly: not surrounded by external miracles and strong sensations... rather, innervated by convictions (recognised in ourselves).

In this time of a new relationship with God and our brothers and sisters, the ancient concept of the Anointed One of the Lord who observes and imposes the Law of the chosen people (with force) on all nations has no relevance.

In any condition and latitude, God is always present and at work, starting from the core, to help us rediscover the breath of being.

The Father, the Son and believers form, in mutual knowledge, a wide circle of love, reciprocity and obedience, through free responses that are neither stereotypical nor paralysing.

Do not get bogged down in details and case studies, but focus on fundamental choices.

"My commandments" [v. 21: subjective genitive] is a theological expression that designates the very Person of the Risen One in action.

"Person" unfolded in human history thanks to his mystical Body: the diverse People of God, whose multifaceted nature is an added value (not a limitation or contamination of purity).

Of course, Love is the only reality that cannot be 'commanded'.

But Jesus designates and advocates it as such to emphasise the detachment from the Sinai Covenant, which it summarises but replaces.

The plural form 'commandments' recognises the range of various forms of exchangeability and personalisation of love.

No orientation, doctrine or code can ever surpass it, or vice versa, render it muddled.In the Gospels, love is not spoken of in terms of feeling [of emotion subject to fluctuations, or regulated on the basis of the perfections of the beloved] but as real action, a gesture that makes the other feel free and adequate.

The People of God reflect Christ to the extent that they develop their destiny by living totally of gift, response, exchange and superabundance in Gratuitousness.

All this in a way that is increasingly new for each person, for every micro or macro-relational situation; age, characteristics, type of defects, or prevailing cultural paradigm.

In short, the Lord does not want us to exalt ourselves by detaching ourselves from the earth and from our brothers and sisters: the honour due to the Father is that which we give to his children.

Therefore, there is no need to lift ourselves up through ascetic observance ['ascending' as in going up to the next floor: the lift only goes down].

It is He who reveals Himself, offering Himself to us: this is His joy.

He comes down from 'heaven'.

He manifests himself in us and in the folds of history, revealing his desire to merge with our lives (v. 21) in order to increase them, complete them and enhance their capacities (in qualitative terms).

The Apostles, conditioned by conventional religious thinking - all about appearances - wonder about Jesus' attitude, which is modest and not inclined to spectacle (v. 22).

They do not accept a Messiah who does not impose himself on everyone, who does not amaze the world, who does not shout proclamations like a madman.

The Master prefers that we recognise in his Word an active correspondence with the desire for integral life that we carry within us (vv. 23-24).

This Logos-event must be taken up into our being as a Call distinct from the commonplaces of widespread, conformist, and alien thinking.

In fact, this Appeal contains a sympathy, an understanding, an arrow, an efficient and creative vigour, which becomes Fire and the solidity of a personal Presence, starting from within - at once faint and resounding.

In ancient forensic culture, 'Paraclitus' (v. 26) was the name given to the eminent figure in the assembly - today we would call him a sort of lawyer - who stood silently beside the defendant to justify him.

[The latter may have been guilty, but deserving of forgiveness; however, he needed a sort of public guarantor to vouch for him. Or he may have been innocent, but unable or incapable of finding witnesses in his favour to exonerate him...]

This attribute of the Spirit alludes to an intensity, an intimate foundation and reciprocity of silent Relationship that becomes Person, and knows where to go; that leads the heart, the character, life itself, not to the pillory, but to the full flowering of ourselves.

Thanks to His support, we are not enchanted by high-sounding roles, strong words, formulas, impressions, or tumultuous feelings: we enter into the demanding, fulfilled depth of Love.

We broaden our field. We welcome a different guiding image, one that presses and takes us by surprise, but subtly; it does not reproach or scold us.

It is an experience that takes place without earthquakes, thunder and lightning - partial - but through the action of the Spirit who internalises, accompanies, nourishes, and makes the interpretation of the Word up-to-date and alive (v. 26).

The message of the Gospels has a generative root that cannot be reduced to a unilateral and cumbersome experience, all codified and moralistic but empty as in sectarian situations, always in struggle with themselves and the world. 

Venturing into their own Exodus, each person discovers hidden resources and a broadening of perspectives that expand and complete their being, broadening the experience of the vocational character that corresponds to them.

Between life on the move and the Word of God - the golden rule that gives self-esteem - an unpredictable, versatile, eclectic, non-one-sided understanding is ignited, which transcends identity chains.

In its scope, the Call remains the same, but over time it expands awareness of its facets, integrating them.

Rich and not yet ratified forms of expression, Creator and creature do not express themselves authentically in a fixed, sanctioned way, with reference to a code of doctrine and discipline, but in the excessive freedom of life.

Even today, with new needs and questions overwhelming us, there is an appropriate abundance of new answers - finally also from the Magisterium.

Plausible in the adventure of Faith, but which would drive any religion mad.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you recognise the work of the Spirit or do you reject it as a nuisance? What strikes you about the new Magisterium?

Do you find this approach in the Proclamation, in Catechesis, in Animation, in Pastoral Care and in your own journey?

Unable to sin

(Acts 2:1-11)

Pentecost is the feast of the Gift, quite simply. The language of Acts of the Apostles is quite striking and colourful: it infuses the event with symbolic prodigies that are good to decipher.

Thunder, lightning, wind and fire were the images that accompanied the revelation of the ancient law. With them Lk wants to emphasise the power of the world to come.

The rabbis claimed that at Sinai the Words of God took the form of seventy tongues of fire - saying that the entire Torah was intended for the multitudes, even the pagans.

According to traditional interpretation, the divine Words had made themselves visible ["the people saw the voices"; Hebrew text] in the form of flames that had carved the stone tablets prepared by Moses (Ex 20:18).

Against this backdrop, Lk intends to present the gift of the new Law - that of the Spirit - and employs the same biblical icons to make itself understood, not to chronicle details.

The vigorous figures suggest a powerful explosion, which throws all life into the air - that is the point.

This is to say: for a radical liberation from the old structures that masked sin and (too many) duplicities, obsessions or quietisms, the divine Spirit must come.

Only its unexpected and shattering power can change the face of the earth and bring about radical transformations.

It is impossible to achieve this authentically, generating any upheaval from the limit of our genius and muscles.

It is beyond our capabilities to bring down conditioning, atavistic barriers, and activate the multifaceted Newness of God that humanises us.

Only a founding relationship can convince us that courageous initiatives and the triumph of life pass through a form of death. Death of common thinking, of the old world, of conditionings and fashions - and of the emptiness of selfhood.

An essential work - to encounter the multiplicity of faces; our own and others'.

The "many tongues spoken" are precisely to indicate the now biting universalism of the message of Christ and his Church.

The Gift comes from a Presence 'within' us and events. But it is destined precisely for the multitudes, with no more barriers.

The disaster of Babel is redeemed both from above and from below, because here and now dissimilarities become valuable resources.

He who allows himself to be guided by the Spirit recovers the many facets, also of the [personal and non]shadow sides.

In this way it is expressed in the language that everyone understands: Communion, conviviality of differences.

It is the love that treasures everything and brings everyone together (vv.7-11), doing away with the idolatrous fixations of selective religion - that of purities with individualist or ethnic overtones; idolatries linked to cultural extraction.

All New Testament authors start from the reality of the Spirit's presence; Lk dares to 'describe' it.

The descent of the Spirit is thus placed on the day of Pentecost, fifty days after Easter.

But in Jn (20:22) Jesus communicates the Spirit that animates believers and the Church... on the very day of the Resurrection.

As the liturgy itself proposes in its signs and symbolic expressions, the Easter Mystery is One.

To put it bluntly: the Crucified One "delivered the Spirit" already from the Cross (Jn 19:30).

Lk describes the dense meaning of the one Paschal Mystery-reality in three successive 'moments'-aspects of the disciples' maturation.

They become 'apostles' [Resurrection, Ascension, Pentecost] not to convey to us a chronicle of particular events, but to help us understand their significance and manifold aspects.

Jn instead places the delivery of the Spirit from the Cross and on Easter evening, to highlight it as the global Gift of the Risen Crucified.

The author of Acts emblematically places this delivery on the day of Pentecost, to emphasise the relationship and detachment from the Jewish feast.

This feast, however, provided a perfect setting: it was a pilgrimage feast that drew both Palestinian and Diaspora Jews to Jerusalem.

The "official" origins of the Community made aware of its task as "Outgoing Sender" was nourished - in addition - by a subtle reference to the Spirit of Creation.

The breath of the Ruah - divine Spirit [in Hebrew of the feminine gender] becomes the vital breath and impetuous wind that invests the "House" (v.2) regenerating and forcing the fearful followers, still seated in the Temple (Lk 24:53).

The ancient Pentecost celebrated the arrival of the people at Mount Sinai and the gift of the Law [which theologised the agricultural feast of thanksgiving for the wheat harvest, which in turn concluded the cycle of reborn nature that had begun at Passover and preceded the Feast of Tents later held at the great autumn harvest; In the tradition of the shepherds, Passover was a theologisation of the apotropaic rite of the sacrifice of a lamb to propitiate the outcome of the spring transhumance, while Pentecost was its concluding feast on the heights and preceded the return to the folds the following autumn].

Lk wants to teach that the Spirit has replaced the Torah: it has become the new norm of behaviour and the only non-external criterion of communion with God.

The author evokes the traditional Jewish feast, almost by comparison - to mark its fulfilment-fullness. But like Easter, Pentecost is also stretched towards the future.

The evangelist wants to demonstrate the breadth of the Spirit's destination over "twelve" different regions, conveyed by the fire of the Word (v.3), which empowered the Proclamation to all nations on earth.

But first of all, Lk intends to make us understand its real incisiveness.

The author of the third Gospel and of Acts realises that in order to obtain works of righteousness and love, it is not enough for men to show the right way.

It is the Eternal Himself who must become the reliable subject of history, the sole propeller of life.

Therefore, God had to change our hearts: precepts and counsels are not enough to change the deep instincts of people and peoples.

External regulation only makes us epidermic: it does not grasp the intimate, it does not convince the heart.

Every genuine action is the expression of a profound adhesion, of a desire of the soul, of a compelling intimate impulse.

The law of the Spirit is a kind of fantasy in power, but it does not stand outside, nor does it require in itself any effort against its own character - at root.

The 'new heart' is the very Life of God that enters into us to transform us, not in moralistic or model terms - but by expanding existence in a genuine way, starting from the seed, from our core.

When the Life of the Eternal pulsates in anyone's soul, it spontaneously manifests God in human history.

And it produces its vital works - with an unthinkable action, transmuting us from brambles into fruitful trees.

With no more artifice and duplicity, our uncertain desert becomes a garden.

We even begin to love with God's own quality of love - sometimes without even the purpose or discipline, or the very knowledge that we want to do so.

Since the Spirit takes up residence in any woman or man, they no longer need to be taught by the opinion of others: they can finally be themselves.

"And this is the Promise that He has made to us: the Life of the Eternal. This I have written to you concerning those who seek to deceive you. And as for you, the anointing you have received from Him remains in you and you do not need anyone to instruct you. But just as His anointing teaches you all things and is true and does not lie, so now abide in Him as He has instructed you" (1 John 2:25-27).

All that remains external or distant vanishes, and effortlessly loses consistency.

This is because there is no longer any law or cerebral thought that holds, nor any obligation of any kind.

We become 'incapable of sin': we have passed from the religious sense that intimidated and made us prone, to the full dignity of Faith.

"Whoever is born of God does not commit sin, because a divine seed dwells in him, and he cannot sin, because he is born of God" (1Jn 3:9).

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In the solemn celebration of Pentecost we are invited to profess our faith in the presence and in the action of the Holy Spirit and to invoke his outpouring upon us, upon the Church and upon the whole world. With special intensity, let us make our own the Church's invocation: Veni, Sancte Spiritus! It is such a simple and spontaneous invocation, yet also extraordinarily profound, which came first of all from the heart of Christ. The Spirit is indeed the gift that Jesus asked and continues to ask of his Father for his friends; the first and principal gift that he obtained for us through his Resurrection and Ascension into heaven. 

Today's Gospel passage, which has the Last Supper as its context, speaks to us of this prayer of Christ. The Lord Jesus said to his disciples: "If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counsellor, to be with you for ever" (Jn 14: 15-16). Here the praying heart of Jesus is revealed to us, his filial and fraternal heart. This prayer reaches its apex and its fulfilment on the Cross, where Christ's invocation is one with the total gift that he makes of himself, and thus his prayer becomes, so to speak, the very seal of his self-gift out of love of the Father and humanity. Invocation and donation of the Holy Spirit meet, they permeate each other, they become one reality. "And I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counsellor, to be with you for ever". In reality, Jesus' prayers that of the Last Supper and that on the Cross form a single prayer that continues even in heaven, where Christ sits at the right hand of the Father. Jesus, in fact, always lives his intercessional priesthood on behalf of the people of God and humanity and so prays for all of us, asking the Father for the gift of the Holy Spirit. 

The account of Pentecost in the Book of the Acts of the Apostles we listened to it in the First Reading (cf. Acts 2: 1-11) presents the "new course" of the work that God began with Christ's Resurrection, a work that involves mankind, history and the cosmos. The Son of God, dead and Risen and returned to the Father, now breathes with untold energy the divine breath upon humanity, the Holy Spirit. And what does this new and powerful self-communication of God produce? Where there are divisions and estrangement the Paraclete creates unity and understanding. The Spirit triggers a process of reunification of the divided and dispersed parts of the human family. People, often reduced to individuals in competition or in conflict with each other, when touched by the Spirit of Christ open themselves to the experience of communion, which can involve them to such an extent as to make of them a new body, a new subject: the Church. This is the effect of God's work: unity; thus unity is the sign of recognition, the "business card" of the Church throughout her universal history. From the very beginning, from the Day of Pentecost, she speaks all languages. The universal Church precedes the particular Churches, and the latter must always conform to the former according to a criterion of unity and universality. The Church never remains a prisoner within political, racial and cultural confines; she cannot be confused with States nor with Federations of States, because her unity is of a different type and aspires to transcend every human frontier. 

From this, dear brothers, derives a practical criterion for discerning Christian life: when a person or a community limits itself to its own way of thinking and acting, it is a sign that it has distanced itself from the Holy Spirit. The path of Christians and of the particular Churches must always coincide with the path of the one, catholic Church, and harmonize with it. This does not mean that the unity created by the Holy Spirit is a kind of egalitarianism. On the contrary, that is rather the model of Babel, or in other words, the imposition of a culture characterized by what we could define as "technical" unity. In fact, the Bible tells us (cf. Gen 11: 1-9) that in Babel everyone spoke the same language. At Pentecost, however, the Apostles speak different languages in such a way that everyone understands the message in his own tongue. The unity of the Spirit is manifest in the plurality of understanding. The Church is one and multiple by her nature, destined as she is to live among all nations, all peoples, and in the most diverse social contexts. She responds to her vocation to be a sign and instrument of unity of the human race (cf. Lumen gentium, n. 1) only if she remains autonomous from every State and every specific culture. Always and everywhere the Church must truly be catholic and universal, the house of all in which each one can find a place. 

The account of the Acts of the Apostles offers us another very concrete indication. The universality of the Church is expressed by the list of peoples according to the ancient tradition: We are "Parthians, Medes, Elamites", etc. Here one may observe that St Luke goes beyond the number 12, which itself always expresses a universality. He looks beyond the horizons of Asia and northwest Africa, and adds three other elements: the "Romans", that is, the Western world; the "Jews and proselytes", encompassing in a new way the unity between Israel and the world; and finally "Cretans and Arabians", who represent the West and the East, islands and land. This opening of horizons subsequently confirms the newness of Christ in the dimension of human space, in the history of the nations. The Holy Spirit involves individuals and peoples and, through them, overcomes walls and barriers. 

At Pentecost the Holy Spirit is manifest as fire. The Spirit's flame descended upon the assembled disciples, it was kindled in them and gave them the new ardour of God. Thus what Jesus had previously said was fulfilled: "I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!" (Lk 12: 49). The Apostles, together with diverse communities of the faithful, carried this divine flame to the far corners of the earth. In this way they opened a path for humanity, a luminous path, and they collaborated with God, who wants to renew the face of the earth with his fire. How different is this fire from that of war and bombing! How different is the fire of Christ, spread by the Church, compared with those lit by the dictators of every epoch of the last century too who leave scorched earth behind them. The fire of God, the fire of the Holy Spirit, is that of the bush that burned but was not consumed (cf. Ex 3: 2). It is a flame that blazes but does not destroy, on the contrary, that, in burning, brings out the better and truer part of man, as in a fusion it elicits his interior form, his vocation to truth and to love. 

A Father of the Church, Origen, in one of his Homilies on Jeremiah, cites a saying attributed to Jesus, not contained in the sacred Scriptures but perhaps authentic, which reads: "Whoever is near to me, is near to the fire" (Homily on Jeremiah, L. I [III]). In Christ, in fact, there is the fullness of God, who in the Bible is compared to fire. We just observed that the flame of the Holy Spirit blazes but does not burn. And nevertheless it enacts a transformation, and thus must also consume something in man, the waste that corrupts him and hinders his relations with God and neighbour. This effect of the divine fire, however, frightens us; we are afraid of being "scorched" and prefer to stay just as we are. This is because our life is often based on the logic of having, of possessing and not the logic of self-gift. Many people believe in God and admire the person of Jesus Christ, but when they are asked to lose something of themselves, then they retreat; they are afraid of the demands of faith. There is the fear of giving up something pleasant to which we are attached; the fear that following Christ deprives us of freedom, of certain experiences, of a part of ourselves. On the one hand, we want to be with Jesus, follow him closely, and, on the other, we are afraid of the consequences entailed. 

Dear brothers and sisters, we are always in need of hearing the Lord Jesus tell us what he often repeated to his friends: "Be not afraid". Like Simon Peter and the others we must allow his presence and his grace to transform our heart, which is always subject to human weakness. We must know how to recognize that losing something indeed, losing ourselves for the true God, the God of love and of life is actually gaining ourselves, finding ourselves more fully. Whoever entrusts himself to Jesus already experiences in this life the peace and joy of heart that the world cannot give, and that it cannot even take away once God has given it to us. So it is worthwhile to let ourselves be touched by the fire of the Holy Spirit! The suffering that it causes us is necessary for our transformation. It is the reality of the Cross. It is not without reason that in the language of Jesus "fire" is above all a representation of the mystery of the Cross, without which Christianity does not exist. Thus enlightened and comforted by these words of life, let us lift up our invocation: Come, Holy Spirit! Enkindle in us the fire of your love! We know that this is a bold prayer, with which we ask to be touched by God's flame; but above all we know that this flame and it alone has the power to save us. We do not want, in defending our life, to lose eternal life that God wants to give us. We need the fire of the Holy Spirit, because only Love redeems. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, homily 23 May 2010]

The Spirit and the "seeds of truth" in human thought

1. Repeating a statement in the book of Wisdom (1:7), the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council teaches us that “the Spirit of the Lord”, who bestows his gifts upon the People of God on pilgrimage through history, “replet orbem terrarum”, fills the whole universe (cf. Gaudium et spes, n. 11). He ceaselessly guides people to the fullness of truth and love which God the Father revealed in Jesus Christ.

This profound awareness of the Holy Spirit’s presence and action has always illumined the Church’s consciousness, guaranteeing that whatever is genuinely human finds an echo in the hearts of Christ's disciples (cf. ibid., n. 1).

Already in the first half of the second century, the philosopher St Justin could write: “Everything that has always been affirmed in an excellent way and has been discovered by those who study philosophy or make laws has been accomplished by seeking or contemplating a part of the Word” (Apologia II, 10, 1-3).

2. The opening of the human spirit to truth and goodness always takes place in the perspective of the “true light that enlightens every man” (Jn 1:9). This light is Christ the Lord himself, who has enlightened man’s steps from the very beginning and has entered his “heart”. With the Incarnation, in the fullness of time, the Light appeared in this world in its full brilliance, shining in the sight of man as the splendour of the truth (cf. Jn 14:6).

Already foretold in the Old Testament, the gradual manifestation of the fullness of truth which is Jesus Christ takes place down the centuries by the work of the Holy Spirit. This particular action of the “Spirit of truth” (cf. Jn 14:17; 15:26; 16:13) concerns not only believers, but in a mysterious way all men and women who, though not knowing the Gospel through no fault of their own, sincerely seek the truth and try to live an upright life (cf. Lumen gentium, n. 16).

In the footsteps of the Fathers of the Church, St Thomas Aquinas can maintain that no spirit can be “so darkened as not to participate in some way in the divine light. In fact, every known truth from any source is totally due to this 'light which shines in the darkness', since every truth, no matter who utters it, comes from the Holy Spirit” (Super Ioannem, 1, 5 lect. 3, n. 103).

3. For this reason, the Church supports every authentic quest of the human mind and sincerely esteems the patrimony of wisdom built up and transmitted by the various cultures. It expresses the inexhaustible creativity of the human spirit, directed towards the fullness of truth by the Spirit of God.

The encounter between the word of truth preached by the Church and the wisdom expressed in cultures and elaborated by philosophies calls on the latter to be open to and to find their own fulfilment in the revelation which comes from God. As the Second Vatican Council stresses, this encounter enriches the Church, enabling her to penetrate the truth ever more deeply, to express it in the languages of the different cultural traditions and to present it — unchanged in its substance — in the form most suited to the changing times (cf. Gaudium et spes, n. 44).

Trust in the presence and action of the Holy Spirit, even in the travail of the culture of our time, can serve as a starting point, at the dawn of the third millennium, for a new encounter between the truth of Christ and human thought.

4. In view of the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000, it is necessary to look more closely at the Council’s teaching on this ever fresh and fruitful encounter between revealed truth, preserved and transmitted by the Church, and the many different forms of human thought and culture. Unfortunately, Paul VI’s observation in the Encyclical Letter Evangelii nuntiandi that “the division between the Gospel and culture is without a doubt the tragedy of our time” (n. 20) is still valid.

To prevent this division which has serious consequences for consciences and behaviour, it is necessary to reawaken in Christ’s disciples that vision of faith which can discover the “seeds of truth” scattered by the Holy Spirit among our contemporaries. This can also contribute to their purification and maturation through the patient art of dialogue, whose particular goal is to present Christ’s face in all its splendour.

It is particularly necessary to keep well in mind the great principle formulated by the last Council, which I wanted to recall in the Encyclical Dives in misericordia: “While the various currents of human thought both in the past and at the present have tended and still tend to separate theocentrism and anthropocentrism, and even to set them in opposition to each other, the Church, following Christ, seeks to link them up in human history, in a deep and organic way” (n. 1).

5. This principle proves fruitful not only for philosophy and humanistic culture but also for the areas of scientific research and art. In fact, the “humble and persevering investigator of the secrets of nature is being led, as it were, by the hand of God in spite of himself, for it is God, the conserver of all things, who made them what they are” (Gaudium et spes, n. 36b).

On the other hand, the true artist has the gift of perceiving and expressing the luminous and infinite horizon in which the existence of man and the world is immersed. If he is faithful to the inspiration that dwells within him and transcends him, he acquires a hidden connaturality with the beauty with which the Holy Spirit clothes Creation.

May the Holy Spirit, the Light that enlightens minds and the divine “artist of the world” (S. Bulgakov, Il Paraclito, Bologna 1971, p. 311), guide the Church and contemporary humanity on the paths of a new and surprising encounter with the splendour of the Truth!

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 16 September 1998]

Pentecost arrived, for the disciples, after fifty days of uncertainty.  True, Jesus had risen.  Overjoyed, they had seen him, listened to his words and even shared a meal with him.  Yet they had not overcome their doubts and fears: they met behind closed doors (cf. Jn 20:19.26), uncertain about the future and not ready to proclaim the risen Lord.  Then the Holy Spirit comes and their worries disappear.  Now the apostles show themselves fearless, even before those sent to arrest them.  Previously, they had been worried about saving their lives; now they are unafraid of dying.  Earlier, they had huddled in the Upper Room; now they go forth to preach to every nation.  Before the ascension of Jesus, they waited for God’s kingdom to come to them (cf. Acts 1:6); now they are filled with zeal to travel to unknown lands.  Before, they had almost never spoken in public, and when they did, they had often blundered, as when Peter denied Jesus; now they speak with parrhesia to everyone.  The disciples’ journey seemed to have reached the end of the line, when suddenly they were rejuvenated by the Spirit.  Overwhelmed with uncertainty, when they thought everything was over, they were transformed by a joy that gave them a new birth.  The Holy Spirit did this.  The Spirit is far from being an abstract reality: he is the Person who is most concrete and close, the one who changes our lives.  How does he do this?  Let us consider the Apostles.  The Holy Spirit did not make things easier for them, he didn’t work spectacular miracles, he didn’t take away their difficulties and their opponents.  Rather, the Spirit brought into the lives of the disciples a harmony that had been lacking, his own harmony, for he is harmony.

Harmony within human beings.  Deep down, in their hearts, the disciples needed to be changed. Their story teaches us that even seeing the Risen Lord is not enough, unless we welcome him into our hearts.  It is no use knowing that the Risen One is alive, unless we too live as risen ones.  It is the Spirit who makes Jesus live within us; he raises us up from within. That is why when Jesus appears to his disciples, he repeats the words, “Peace be with you!” (Jn 20:19.21), and bestows the Spirit.  That is what peace really is, the peace bestowed on the Apostles.  That peace does not have to do with resolving outward problems – God does not spare his disciples from tribulation and persecution.  Rather, it has to do with receiving the Holy Spirit.  The peace bestowed on the apostles, the peace that does not bring freedom from problems but in problems, is offered to each of us.  Filled with his peace, our hearts are like a deep sea, which remains peaceful, even when its surface is swept by waves.  It is a harmony so profound that it can even turn persecutions into blessings.  Yet how often we choose to remain on the surface!  Rather than seeking the Spirit, we try to keep afloat, thinking that everything will improve once this or that problem is over, once I no longer see that person, once things get better.  But to do so is to stay on the surface: when one problem goes away, another arrives, and once more we grow anxious and ill at ease.  Avoiding those who do not think as we do will not bring serenity.  Resolving momentary problems will not bring peace.  What makes a difference is the peace of Jesus, the harmony of the Spirit.

At today’s frenzied pace of life, harmony seems swept aside.  Pulled in a thousand directions, we run the risk of nervous exhaustion and so we react badly to everything.  Then we look for the quick fix, popping one pill after another to keep going, one thrill after another to feel alive.  But more than anything else, we need the Spirit: he brings order to our frenzy.  The Spirit is peace in the midst of restlessness, confidence in the midst of discouragement, joy in sadness, youth in aging, courage in the hour of trial.  Amid the stormy currents of life, he lowers the anchor of hope.  As Saint Paul tells us today, the Spirit keeps us from falling back into fear, for he makes us realize that we are beloved children (cf. Rom 8:15).  He is the Consoler, who brings us the tender love of God.  Without the Spirit, our Christian life unravels, lacking the love that brings everything together.  Without the Spirit, Jesus remains a personage from the past; with the Spirit, he is a person alive in our own time.  Without the Spirit, Scripture is a dead letter; with the Spirit it is a word of life.  A Christianity without the Spirit is joyless moralism; with the Spirit, it is life.

The Holy Spirit does not bring only harmony within us but also among us.  He makes us Church, building different parts into one harmonious edifice.  Saint Paul explains this well when, speaking of the Church, he often repeats a single word, “variety”: varieties of gifts, varieties of services, varieties of activities” (1 Cor 12:4-6).  We differ in the variety of our qualities and gifts.  The Holy Spirit distributes them creatively, so that they are not all identical.   On the basis of this variety, he builds unity.  From the beginning of creation, he has done this.  Because he is a specialist in changing chaos into cosmos, in creating harmony.  He is a specialist in creating diversity, enrichment, individuality.  He is the creator of this diversity and, at the same time, the one who brings harmony and gives unity to diversity.  He alone can do these two things.

In today’s world, lack of harmony has led to stark divisions.  There are those who have too much and those who have nothing, those who want to live to a hundred and those who cannot even be born.  In the age of the computer, distances are increasing: the more we use the social media, the less social we are becoming.  We need the Spirit of unity to regenerate us as Church, as God’s People and as a human family.  May he regenerate us!  There is always a temptation to build “nests”, to cling to our little group, to the things and people we like, to resist all contamination.  It is only a small step from a nest to a sect, even within the Church.  How many times do we define our identity in opposition to someone or something!  The Holy Spirit, on the other hand, brings together those who were distant, unites those far off, brings home those who were scattered.  He blends different tonalities in a single harmony, because before all else he sees goodness.  He looks at individuals before looking at their mistakes, at persons before their actions.  The Spirit shapes the Church and the world as a place of sons and daughters, brothers and sisters.   These nouns come before any adjectives.  Nowadays it is fashionable to hurl adjectives and, sadly, even insults.  It could be said that we are living in a culture of adjectives that forgets about the nouns that name the reality of things.  But also a culture of the insult as the first reaction to any opinion that I do not share.  Later we come to realize that this is harmful, to those insulted but also to those who insult.  Repaying evil for evil, passing from victims to aggressors, is no way to go through life.  Those who live by the Spirit, however, bring peace where there is discord, concord where there is conflict.  Those who are spiritual repay evil with good.  They respond to arrogance with meekness, to malice with goodness, to shouting with silence, to gossip with prayer, to defeatism with encouragement.

To be spiritual, to savour the harmony of the Spirit, we need to adopt his way of seeing things.  Then everything changes: with the Spirit, the Church is the holy People of God, mission is not proselytism but the spread of joy, as others become our brothers and sisters, all loved by the same Father.  Without the Spirit, though, the Church becomes an organization, her mission becomes propaganda, her communion an exertion.  Many Churches spend time making pastoral plans, discussing any number of things.  That seems to be the road to unity, but it is not the way of the Spirit; it is the road to division.  The Spirit is the first and last need of the Church (cf. Saint Paul VI, General Audience, 29 November 1972).  He “comes where he is loved, where he is invited, where he is expected” (Saint Bonaventure, Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Easter).  

Brothers and sisters, let us daily implore the gift of the Spirit.  Holy Spirit, harmony of God, you who turn fear into trust and self-centredness into self-gift, come to us.  Grant us the joy of the resurrection and perennially young hearts.  Holy Spirit, our harmony, you who make of us one body, pour forth your peace upon the Church and our world.  Holy Spirit, make us builders of concord, sowers of goodness, apostles of hope.

[Pope Francis, homily, 9 June 2019]