From customs with limits to the Spirituality of possessions-Relation

(Mt 19:16-22)

At the time of Jesus, people lived a moment of social collapse and disintegration of the communitarian dimension of life - in the past more related to family, clan and community.

Herod's policy guaranteed the Empire control of the situation: a reality of maximum exploitation and severe economic and civil repression.

Religious impositions even ensured the subjugation of consciences - and the spiritual authorities were happy to act as guarantors of this most covert form of slavery.

The condition of total (civil and religious) subjugation of the people everywhere tended to diminish the sense of interpersonal and group fraternity.

There was no lack of severe conditions of social and cultural exclusion, which accentuated the bewilderment of the people, who were marginalized, homeless and without references - even religious ones.

Some movements attempted to reweave the lacerations and propose shared forms of life, certainly - but united by an idea of nagging decontamination [Essenes, Pharisees, Zealots].

Jesus chooses the path of a decisive vital redemption, as opposed to the ideologies of the ascetic purism and custom rediscovery.

For a radical fulfilment of the spirit of the Law, it was necessary to go beyond doctrines. They excite some, yet they do not erase our inner sense of emptiness.

The community of sons does not keep itself within the 'limits', and does not live apart; thus it does not accentuate the torments of imperfection, or the perception of incompleteness, nor the marginalizations - but welcomes them.

It does not feel endangered by contact with the realities that the external legalism of devotion considered dangerous and cursed or in sin. It trembles for them.

The Church recognises the value of existential poverties: it feels it’s not enough to seek “good things” without 'fire' within.

It confesses the richness not of everything that is already recognizable and static, but of new positions and differing relationships, which dilate the present and open up creative visions of the future.

Faith, in short, is not a popularly identified belief capable of accrediting roles, tasks and characters.

In vv.18-19 Jesus does not enumerate commandments that would make the interlocutor [as they used to say] live 'more from near' to 'God alone', but the criteria that bring us close and alongside our sisters and brothers.

The honour reserved for the Father is not one of many forms of competitive love: the threshold is the neighbour.

The Son does not even mention the first commandments, those identifying the exalted Lord of his people.

Our hands embrace the time-less… in concrete love.

They trigger the dynamisms that annihilate the torments of the least, and thus in an unthinkable way help us rediscover the meaning and joy of life - letting the world be reborn [far more than with the usual forms of insurance].

Conscious living does not have to do with usage and clichés [which produce alibis] but with another serenity and joy: the wonder of the unusual and of new degrees, places, states, relationships, situations.

There is no other richness that can fill our days, while there is only sadness (v.22) in the old bonds without humanity. They lower us all into an artificial mental and emotional reality.

To detach oneself from immediate calculation seems an absurd choice, far-flung and destined to go wrong, but on the contrary, it is the winning move that opens the door to new Life of the Kingdom and to Happiness, which can be accessed precisely when tangible goods are transformed into Relationship.

Let us free ourselves from the plethora of misguided goals that crush our paths, making them swampy.

We have to reflect well on «that which is eminent» (v.17).

To internalize and live the message:

Have you learnt to embrace your life from the Goodness of God, or to be lulled and content with what is there - just within reach?

[Monday 20th wk. in O.T.  August 18, 2025]

From customs with limits to the Spirituality of possessions-Relation

(Mt 19:16-22)

At the time of Jesus, there was a time of social collapse and disintegration of the communitarian dimension of life - in the past more related to family, clan and community.

Herod's policies ensured that the empire controlled the situation: a reality of maximum exploitation and severe economic and civil repression.

Religious impositions even ensured the subjugation of the consciences - and the spiritual authorities were happy to act as guarantors of this most covert form of slavery.

The condition of total (civil and religious) subjugation of the people everywhere tended to diminish the sense of interpersonal and group fraternity.

There was no lack of severe conditions of social and cultural exclusion, which accentuated the bewilderment of the people, who were marginalised, homeless and without references - even religious ones.

Some movements attempted to reweave the lacerations and propose forms of shared life, certainly - but united by an idea of tormenting decontamination [Essenes, Pharisees, Zealots].

Jesus chooses the path of a decisive vital redemption, compared to the ideologies of the rediscovery of ascetic and customary purism, traditionalist nationalist fundamentalist.

For a radical fulfilment of the spirit of the Law, it was necessary to go beyond doctrines. They excite some, yet they do not erase our inner sense of emptiness.

The community of sons does not keep within the 'limits', and does not live apart; thus it does not accentuate the torments of imperfection, or the perception of incompleteness, nor the marginalisations - but welcomes them.

She does not feel endangered by contact with the realities that the external legalism of ancient devotion considered dangerous and cursed or in sin. It trembles for them.

The Church recognises the value of existential poverty: it is not enough to seek 'good things' without 'fire' within.

It confesses the richness not of everything that is already recognisable and static, but of new positions and differing relationships that open up the present and open up creative visions of the future.

Faith, in short, is not a popularly identified belief capable of accrediting roles, tasks and personalities - and their advantages, which everyone should depend on [!]

Nor can the dimension-wealth still rhyme with differentiation-security.

In vv.18-19 Jesus does not enumerate commandments that would make the interlocutor [as they used to say] 'more from near' to 'God alone', but criteria that bring us near and alongside sisters and brothers.

The honour reserved for the Father is not one of many forms of competitive love: the threshold is the neighbour.

The God of religions is a capricious child who demands the big piece of the cake, at snack time: but the Son does not deceive us with the most childish ideas of widespread beliefs.

Nor does he quote the first commandments, identifying the exalted Lord of his people.

Our hands embrace the timeless in concrete love.

They trigger the dynamisms that annihilate the torments of the least, and thus in an unthinkable way help us rediscover the meaning and joy of living - letting the world be reborn, far more than with the usual forms of insurance (sacralising titles and acquired economic levels).

Conscious living has to do not with customs and clichés [that produce alibis] but with another serenity and joy: the wonder of the unusual and of new degrees, places, states, relationships, situations.

There is no other richness that can fill our days, while there is only sadness (v.22) in the old bonds without humanity. They lower us all into an artificial mental and emotional reality.

To detach oneself from immediate calculation seems an absurd choice, out of the blue and destined to go wrong, but it is, on the contrary, the winning move that opens the door to the new Life of the Kingdom and to Happiness, which is accessed precisely when material goods are transformed into Relationship.

We know of no religious discipline that holds [and that can defy time, our emotions].

Only the risk for complete Life - ours, everyone's - acts as a spring to the will and impels full dedication.

The Tao (xiii) says: "To him who values himself for the sake of the world, the world can be entrusted; to him who cares for the sake of the world, the world can be trusted.

And Master Ho-shang Kung comments: "If I did not care for my person, I would have the spontaneity of the Tao in me: I would lightly lift myself up to the clouds, I would go in and out where there are no gaps, I would put the spirit in communication with the Tao. Then what misfortune would I have?".

Let us free ourselves from the plethora of wrong goals, which crush our paths, making them swampy. Let us also reflect well, then, on "that which is worthy" (v.17).To internalise and live the message:

Thanks to spiritual guides, have you learnt to grasp your life from the Goodness of God, or to be lulled and content with what is there?

In the Church, have you found the criterion of Jesus realised, the strong desire for the Goodness of others too, capable of pointing a path? Or more attention to the things of the earth?

One is missing

Inherit the Life of the Eternal

(Mk 10:17-27)

What are we missing, despite our conviction and involvement? Why do we make certain behavioural choices?

Even if we were to devote years of commitment to the spiritual journey in religion, we would find that finally not just the icing on the cake is missing, but the global One.

It is not enough to accentuate or perfect the good things, we need to take a leap; one step (even an alternative step) more is not enough.

Paradoxically, one starts from the perception of an inner wound that stirs (v.17) the search for that Good that unifies and gives meaning to life.

Jesus makes us reflect on what is to be considered "Insignificant" (thus the Greek text: vv.17-18).

It is not a teaching for those who are far away, but for us: "One you lack!" - as if to emphasise: "You lack the All, you have almost nothing!".

Normal life goes on, but the path of trust is lacking. There is no astonishment.

Our going does not consolidate or qualify by adapting to our surroundings, adding heritage to heritage and shunning peccadilloes, or - above all - unknowns.

Too many things are missing: the challenge of the more personal, caring for others, confronting the drama of reality: there is no unity, there is a lack of authentic Presence that launches love into the spirit of adventure.

It is not a matter of having a cue in addition to what we already possess, continuing to be slaves to it (the titles, the capital or the money, which give us orders like masters; they promise, they guarantee, they flatter).

It is not enough to improve on relationship situations that we know by heart, making ourselves approved from the very first step - nor is it enough to merely deepen pious curiosity by satiating the spiritual gluttony.

The transition from religiosity to Faith that brings our vocational destiny and full realisation is played out on a shortage of support - in chaotic systems of correlation.

To be happy is not worth 'normalising' or remaining decent, devout people, because the soul demands the challenge of unexplored skies.

Waters we have not plumbed: sides of ourselves, of others and of reality that we have not brought out, and yet perhaps are not even scrutinising.

We need to venture into the basal and extraordinary stretches that are also calling today; not wait for assurances.

And the starting point can also be the accent of doubt, a healthy restlessness of the soul - the very danger... typical of critical witnesses.

Let us not be silent about our being unsafe, nor about our sense of dissatisfaction with an ordinary, unshaken existence: these are fruitful suspensions, which (when ready) will activate us.

Feeling complete, fulfilled, happy? It is necessary for the eyes and heart to give way, not to be already occupied.

It is absolutely necessary to let go of certainties from the mind and one's own hand.

Gambling is not the maceration of oneself or of the main lines of one's personality - but the reckless investing of everything for another realm, where energies surface, different relationships are explored; one attempts to sublimate possessions into a matrix of life (also others': v.21).

After a sense of incompleteness or even spiritual infirmity has driven us to a rich attunement with the codes of the soul and brought face to face with Jesus (v.17) from Him we understand the secret of Joy.

Our Core remains restless if it does not infuse correspondences that fly over - precisely - the ancient ruler: possessions, which make one stagnate.

Despite the promised guarantees, they remain constipated, meaningless. 

On the contrary, by locking us into dependency they cause us to regress almost into the pre-human - robbing us of the delight of open, self-respecting relationships.

The Deep Roots want to change the vector of the swampy, situated self - 'as it should', well-integrated or self-referential - so that it dilates to include the You and the real whole (vv.28-30).

It is the Birth of the new woman and man, mothers and fathers of humanisation (in a living community, which accepts the conviviality of differences). That which verges on the divine condition.

Capable even of overturning positions (v.31). Eschatological sign and sign of the genuine Church. Nest and true Hearth.

It is Genesis in the authenticity of cosmic energies and inner powers, which are preparing stages of growth - elsewhere.

Gradually we create the warmth and reciprocity of an understanding relationship, the purpose of Love in what we undertake or do again; like the friendly warmth of a non-frigid Presence.

We experience the inebriating distinction from which there is no turning back, because it places us in the very Life of the Eternal (v.17). The One who is missing (v.21).As I strive to question myself or others, previously hidden resources - that I did not even know about - surface.

With amazement, I experience a reality that gradually unfolds... and of the Father who provides for me (v.27).

In such an extension, we learn to recognise the (new decisive) Subject of the spiritual journey: God's Design in being itself.

Dream leading, and despite the travails, the emotional storms, our contortions, it gradually reveals itself to be Resembling.

As innate: forthright, genuine, limpid; irrefutable, flowing.

Inserted in the Community that hears the call to "go out", we move out of the tortuousness of retreats; and here is the Father's hundredfold in everything (vv.28-30).

Except for one thing: we are called to be Brothers, on an equal footing. 

There will be no hundred-to-one of 'fathers' (in the ancient sense), i.e. of conditioning controllers (vv. 29-30) who dictate their track and rhythm, as to subordinates.

Then we will be at our centre, not because we are identified with the role, but rather chiselled in an astonishing way by facets of the Unknown.

A life of attachments or subservience to dirigisme blocks creativity. 

To cling to an idol, to allow oneself to be plagued or intimidated, to anchor oneself in fear of problems or pre-occupations is like creating a dark room.

Feeling programmable, already designed, without a more... suffering ordinary or conformist opinions... excludes the vector of personal Novelty.

Those who allow themselves to be inhibited build an artificial dwelling, which is neither their home nor the tent of the world.

Conceiving that we can foresee global adventures, we shrink, we frighten. We do not grasp what is really ours and others'.

This is what becomes apparent during a process - which becomes holy in the exodus from self and in the quality of creative relationships.

As Pope Francis said in Dublin: 'Docile to the Spirit and not based on tactical plans'.

Under a new and unknown stimulus, it is the new genesis that allows us to shift our attention from calculation to the brightness of the soul, from the brain to the eye, from reasoning to perception.

What am I to "do" (v.17)? Embrace the Gift of difference and difference - even in my own inner faces, not infrequently opposites; complementing.

We transcend the One who is missing, but who reaches us.

We do not manufacture, but receive, 'inherit' (v.17) freely - from the real that presses.

"Where is the Insigne for me?".

To become who we authentically are in the election of our sacred Source, we must surrender ourselves to things, situations, even unusual emotional guests - treating them with dignity, just as they are.

Within this new ancient ground is the secret of that elevation that rises above dilemmas, for each one.

With all its load of stimulating surprises and appeals to flourish in humanising fullness, the Good lies in welcoming something that I do not already know what it is or will be, but It comes.

"The One is missing you!" - and the best way to esteem its contact is a bet, a matrix of being: transforming goods (of all kinds) into life and relationship.

The young man in the Gospel as we know asks Jesus: "What must I do to inherit eternal life?". Today it is not easy to speak about eternal life and eternal realities, because the mentality of our time tells us that nothing is definitive that everything changes, and changes very rapidly. "Change", in many cases, has become the password, the most exalting exercise of freedom, and that is why even you, young people, have often come to think that it is impossible to make definitive choices that would tie you down for the rest of your life. But is this the right way to use your freedom? Is it really true that in order to be happy we should content ourselves with small, transient joys that once they are over leave bitterness in the heart? Dear young people, this is not true freedom nor can true happiness be reached in this way. Not one of us is created to make provisional and revocable choices but rather definitive and irrevocable decisions that give full meaning to our existence. We see it in our lives: we should like every beautiful experience that fills us with happiness never to end. God created us with a view to the "forever", he has placed in the heart of each one of us the seed of a life that can achieve something beautiful and great. Have the courage to make definitive decisions and to live them faithfully! The Lord may call you to marriage, to the priesthood, to the consecrated life, to a special gift of yourselves: answer him generously!

In the dialogue with the young man who possessed many riches Jesus pointed out what was the most important, the greatest treasure in life: love. To love God and to love others with one's whole self. The word love we know it lends itself to many interpretations and has different meanings. We need a Teacher, Christ, to teach us its most authentic and profound meaning, to guide us to the source of love and life. Love is the name of God himself. The Apostle John reminds us: "God is love", and adds, "not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son", and "if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another" (1 Jn 4: 8, 10-11) In the encounter with Christ and in reciprocal love we experience in ourselves the life of God, who abides in us with his perfect, total and eternal love (cf. 1 Jn 4: 12). Therefore there is nothing greater for man a mortal and limited being than to participate in the life of God's love. Today, we live in a cultural context that does not encourage profound and disinterested human relationships; on the contrary, it often induces us to withdraw into ourselves, into individualism, to let selfishness, that exists in people, prevail. But a young person's heart is by nature sensitive to true love. That is why I address each one of you with great confidence in order to say: it is not easy to make something beautiful and great of your life it is demanding, but with Christ, everything is possible!

[Pope Benedict, Meeting with Young People, Turin 2 May 2010]

6. The dialogue of Jesus with the rich young man, related in the nineteenth chapter of Saint Matthew's Gospel, can serve as a useful guide for listening once more in a lively and direct way to his moral teaching: "Then someone came to him and said, 'Teacher, what good must I do to have eternal life?' And he said to him, 'Why do you ask me about what is good? There is only one who is good. If you wish to enter into life, keep the commandments. 'He said to him, 'Which ones?' And Jesus said, 'You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; Honour your father and mother; also, You shall love your neighbour as yourself.' The young man said to him, 'I have kept all these; what do I still lack?' Jesus said to him, 'If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me' " (Mt 19:16-21).

7. "Then someone came to him...". In the young man, whom Matthew's Gospel does not name, we can recognize every person who, consciously or not, approaches Christ the Redeemer of man and questions him about morality. For the young man, the question is not so much about rules to be followed, but about the full meaning of life. This is in fact the aspiration at the heart of every human decision and action, the quiet searching and interior prompting which sets freedom in motion. This question is ultimately an appeal to the absolute Good which attracts us and beckons us; it is the echo of a call from God who is the origin and goal of man's life. Precisely in this perspective the Second Vatican Council called for a renewal of moral theology, so that its teaching would display the lofty vocation which the faithful have received in Christ, the only response fully capable of satisfying the desire of the human heart.

In order to make this "encounter" with Christ possible, God willed his Church. Indeed, the Church "wishes to serve this single end: that each person may be able to find Christ, in order that Christ may walk with each person the path of life".

[Pope John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor nn.6-7 cf. ff.]

The Lord Jesus gives us the fulfilment; he came for this. That man had to come to the brink, where he had to take a decisive leap, where the possibility was presented to stop living for himself, for his own deeds, for his own goods and — precisely because he lacked a full life — to leave everything to follow the Lord. Clearly, in Jesus’ final — immense, wonderful — invitation, there is no proposal of poverty, but of wealth, of the true richness: “You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Mk 10:21).

Being able to choose between an original and a copy, who would choose the copy? Here is the challenge: finding life’s original, not the copy. Jesus does not offer surrogates, but true life, true love, true richness! How will young people be able to follow us in faith if they do not see us choose the original, if they see us adjusting to half measures? It is awful to find half-measure Christians, — allow me the word — ‘dwarf’ Christians; they grow to a certain height and no more; Christians with a miniaturized, closed heart. It is awful to find this. We need the example of someone who invites me to a ‘beyond’, a ‘plus’, to grow a little. Saint Ignatius called it the ‘magis’, “the fire, the fervour of action that rouses us from slumber”.

The path of what is lacking passes through what there is. Jesus did not come to abolish the Law nor the Prophets, but to fulfil. We must start from reality in order to take the leap into ‘what we lack’. We must scrutinize the ordinary in order to open ourselves to the extraordinary.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 13 June 2018]

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [10 August 2025]

*First reading from the Book of Wisdom (18:6-9)

The first verse immediately introduces us to the atmosphere: the author indulges in a meditation on the "night of the Paschal liberation," the night of Israel's exodus from Egypt, led by Moses. Year after year, Israel celebrates the Passover meal to relive the mystery of God's liberation on that memorable night (Ex 12:42). Celebrating in order to relive: the verb "to celebrate" does not simply mean to commemorate, but "to remember," that is, to allow God to act again, which implies allowing oneself to be profoundly transformed. Even today, when the father of the family, during the Passover meal, introduces his son to the meaning of the feast, he does not say to him: "The Lord acted on behalf of our fathers," but "The Lord acted on my behalf when I came out of Egypt" (Ex 13:8). And the rabbis' comments confirm: "In every generation, each person must consider himself as if he had come out of Egypt." The celebration of the Easter night encompasses all the dimensions of the Covenant, both the thanksgiving for the liberation accomplished by God and the commitment to fidelity to the commandments. Liberation, the gift of the Law and the Covenant are a single event, as God communicated to Moses, and through him to the people, at the foot of Mount Sinai (Ex 19:4-6). In the few lines of the Book of Wisdom, we are presented with two dimensions: first of all, thanksgiving: "The night (of liberation) was foretold to our fathers so that they might be courageous, knowing well to what oaths they had given their allegiance" (v. 6). Here we speak of oaths, which are God's promises to his people: a lineage, a land, a happy life in that land (Gen 15:13-14; 46:3-4). "For your people were waiting for the salvation of the righteous, for the ruin of their enemies. For as you punished our adversaries, so you glorified us by calling us to yourself” (v. 7). This is the lesson: by choosing oppression and violence, the Egyptians brought about their own ruin. The oppressed people, on the other hand, received God’s protection. The second dimension of the celebration of the Easter night is personal and communal commitment: “ The holy children of the righteous offered sacrifices in secret and agreed to share both success and danger, singing the sacred praises of their fathers” (v. 9). The author draws a parallel between the practice of worship “offering sacrifices in secret” and the commitment to fraternal solidarity “agreeing to share success and danger” . The Law of Israel has always united the celebration of God's gifts and solidarity among the members of the people of the Covenant. Jesus will also establish the same link: "remembering him" means, in a single gesture, celebrating the Eucharist and placing oneself at the service of one's brothers and sisters, as he himself did on Holy Thursday evening by washing the feet of his disciples.

*Responsorial Psalm (32/33, 1.12, 18-19, 20.22)

 "Rejoice, O righteous, in the Lord; praise is fitting for the upright." From the very first verse, we know that we are in the Temple of Jerusalem, in the context of a liturgy of thanksgiving. Please note: 'righteous' and 'upright' do not indicate attitudes of pride or self-satisfaction, but the humble attitude of those who enter into God's plan because in the Bible, righteousness (for us it would be holiness) is not a moral quality but a gift. "Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people he has chosen as his inheritance" (v. 12). The Covenant is God's plan, that is, the free choice by which he wanted to entrust his mystery to a people. It is therefore natural to give thanks for this gift. This is not arrogant pride, but legitimate pride, the awareness of the honour God has bestowed on them by choosing them for a mission, and it is our pride in being incorporated through baptism into his people on mission in the world. Trust comes from faith, and the following verse expresses this experience of faith in another way: The eyes of the Lord are on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love' (v. 18). This is a splendid definition of 'fear of God' in the biblical sense: not fear, but total trust. The juxtaposition of the two parts of the verse is interesting: 'those who fear him' and 'those who hope in his love'.  The fear of God is, in reality, trust in God's love, not servile fear, but a response of love, as Psalm 102/103 says: "As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him." The only true way to respect God is to love him, as is clearly stated in Israel's profession of faith: "Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength" (Deut 6:4). I return to the central verse: "The eye of the Lord is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love." God watched over Israel like a father during its journey through the desert. Without divine intervention, the Jews, freed from Egypt, would not have survived either the crossing of the Sea or the trials of the desert. At the burning bush, the Lord promised Moses that he would accompany his people to freedom, and he kept his promise. When we read "the Lord," we are always referring to the famous tetragrammaton YHWH, which Jews do not pronounce out of respect and which means, "I am, I will be with you, every moment of your life." Ultimately, it refers to the breath of human beings.  The psalmist continues: "To deliver him from death and feed him in time of famine" (v. 19), which recalls the Book of Deuteronomy, where it is said that the Lord watched over his people "as the apple of his eye". The psalm continues: "The Lord is our help and our shield. May your love be upon us, Lord, as we put our hope in you" (vv. 20, 22). This trust is not always easy, and Israel has wavered between trust and rebellion, constantly attracted by idols. This psalm is ultimately a call to firm faith. The author is well aware of his people's uncertainties. That is why he invites them to rediscover the certainty of faith, the only thing capable of generating lasting happiness. He composed this psalm of twenty-two verses, like the letters of the Hebrew alphabet, to indicate that the Law is a treasure that guides life from A to Z.

*Second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews (11:1-2, 8-19)

 'By faith': this expression recurs like a refrain in chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews, and the author even goes so far as to say that he does not have enough time to list all the believers of the Old Testament whose faith enabled God's plan to be fulfilled. The text proposed to us this Sunday focuses only on Abraham and Sarah, models of true faith. It all began for them with God's first call (Genesis 12): 'Leave your country, your homeland and your father's house, and go to the land I will show you'. And Abraham obeyed, the text tells us, in the most beautiful sense of the word: to obey in the Bible means free submission of those who accept to trust because they know that when God commands, it is for their good and for their liberation, knowing that God wants only our good, our happiness. Abraham set out for a country he was to inherit: to believe means to live everything we possess as a gift from God. He set out without knowing where he was going: if we knew where we were going, there would be no need to believe. Believing is trusting without understanding and without knowing everything; accepting that the path is not the one we planned or desired because it is God who decides it. Thy will be done, not mine, said Jesus much later, who in turn became obedient, as St. Paul says, even to death on the cross (Phil 2). "By faith Sarah, though past the age of childbearing (90 years old), was able to become a mother." It is true that at first she laughed at such an incredible announcement, but then she accepted it as a promise and trusted, listening to the Lord's response to her laughter: "Is anything too hard for the Lord?" said God. "At the appointed time I will return to you, and Sarah will have a son" (Gen 18:14). And what was humanly impossible came to pass. Another woman, Mary, centuries later, heard the announcement of the birth of the promised son, and accepted it, believing that nothing is impossible for God (Lk 1). By faith, Abraham faced the incredible trial of offering Isaac as a sacrifice, but even there, although he did not understand, he knew that God's command was given out of love: it was the path of the promise, a dark but sure path. From a human point of view, the promise of a descendant and the request for the sacrifice of Isaac are in stark contradiction, but Abraham, the believer, precisely because he had received the promise of a descendant through Isaac, can go so far as to offer him in sacrifice because he believes that God cannot deny his promise. When Isaac asked, 'Father, I see the fire and the wood... but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?', Abraham replied with complete confidence, 'God will provide, my son'. The path of faith is dark, but it is sure. And he was not lying when he said to his servants along the way, 'Stay here with the donkey; the boy and I will go over there to worship, and then we will come back to you.' He did not know what lesson God wanted to teach him about the prohibition of human sacrifice, he did not know the outcome of the test, but he trusted. Centuries later, Jesus, the new Isaac, believed that he could rise from the dead, and he was heard, as the Letter to the Hebrews says. Here we have an extraordinary lesson in hope! It is faith that saves us, and the author of the Letter to the Hebrews comments that the plan of salvation is fulfilled thanks to those who believe and allow the promise to be fulfilled through them.

NOTE In Hebrew, the verb 'to believe' is aman (from which our 'amen' derives), a term that implies solidity, firmness; to believe means 'to hold fast', to have complete trust, even in doubt, discouragement or anguish.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (12:32-48)

 This text begins with a word of hope that should give us all the courage we need:

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom." In other words: this Kingdom has certainly been given to you; believe it even if appearances seem to say otherwise.  But Jesus does not stop there: he immediately describes the demands that arise from this promise. For "to whom much is given, much will be required; to whom much is entrusted, much more will be asked." The only dominant thought in the heart of the believer is the fulfilment of God's promise, which frees us from all other concerns:

"Sell what you have and give it to the poor; make yourselves purses that do not grow old, a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." Jesus explains what he expects of us with three short parables: the first is that of the servants waiting for their master's return; the second, shorter one, compares his return to the unexpected arrival of a thief; the third describes the arrival of the master and the judgment he pronounces on his servants. The key word is "service": God honours us by taking us into his service, by making us his collaborators. Later, Saint Peter, who understood Jesus' message well, would say to the Christians of Asia Minor: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some believe, but he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to be lost, but everyone to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9). He even goes so far as to say: "You who are waiting, hasten the coming of the day of God" (2 Pet 3:12). It is our responsibility to "hasten" the coming of the Kingdom of God, as we say in the Our Father: "Thy Kingdom come!" It will come all the more quickly the more we believe and commit ourselves to it. Thus, all our efforts, even the most modest, in a mysterious way, are a collaboration in the coming of the Day of God: "Blessed is that servant whom the master, on his arrival, finds doing so. Truly, I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions."  "Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he returns. Truly, I say to you, he will gird himself and have them sit at table, and he will come and serve them." On closer inspection, this happens every Sunday at Mass: the Lord invites us to his table and he himself nourishes us, renewing us with the energy we need to continue our service.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

18th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [3 August 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us. In the midst of the holiday season, the Word of God challenges us to give true meaning to life.

*First Reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes (1:2; 2:21-23)

 When reading the book of Qohelet (Qohelet means 'one who calls' or 'the teacher who speaks before the assembly'), also known as Ecclesiastes, one might think that the author is a philosopher; instead, he is a preacher and one of the most fascinating and uncomfortable personalities of biblical wisdom. It is true that his book is classified among the 'wisdom books', but the biblical books known as wisdom books are not philosophical essays in the manner of the pagans or agnostics. They are first and foremost books written by believers for believers; in a sense, they are catechisms. 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity': these are the first words of the book of Qohelet, and perhaps also what best sums it up. 'Vanity' literally translated would be 'breath of breath', something evanescent, and who can boast of holding a breath between their fingers? Another similar expression, very dear to the author, is 'running after the wind' (1:14). In other words, everything to which we devote our thoughts, dreams, energies, activities and time is ephemeral, temporary, fleeting. Everything, except one thing. What is it? The author keeps the mystery alive and only at the end of the book does he reveal that the only important thing in the world is the search for God. In the end, we understand that this is not a disillusioned philosophical meditation, but a vigorous preaching in a veiled form. In the meantime, he describes in a thousand ways the many human activities as futile efforts, a chasing after the wind to grasp a breath between one's fingers. To better argue his point, he has King Solomon himself speak as a man of desires and power, crowned with glory, but a glory that had no future. In fact, several phases mark his life: before becoming king, we know nothing about him except his thirst for power; as king, he was initially admirable for his wisdom and humility, but in the end he fell into idolatry and became a slave to his love of wealth. Qohelet has Solomon speak as if he were taking stock of his reign: a reign of power and wealth (Jesus will say of him: 'Solomon in all his glory'). He had wisdom and sought the great works that fascinate the powerful and wise of the time; all the pleasures of life, and in the end, the failure of his kingdom. With Rehoboam, his son, incapable of wise politics, the kingdom was divided, and worse still, idolatry regained the upper hand and in a few years Solomon's glory vanished. What we read today refers to him: "He who has worked with wisdom and knowledge will leave it to another who has not worked for it" (2:21). Rehoboam, his son and successor to the throne of Jerusalem, seriously lacked wisdom, and from there arose the schism that divided David's kingdom forever. In light of this experience, Qohelet affirms: "All is vanity." We read the same thing in Psalm 103: 'Man: his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field: a breath of wind, and he is no more' (15-16).  In Qohelet there is a true language of faith: God alone knows all mysteries, and every search for happiness outside of Him is vain because only He possesses the keys to true wisdom. Ultimately, even if we do not understand all the mysteries of existence, we know that everything is a gift from God. Those who trust in God will never be disappointed, and wisdom consists in abandoning oneself to God and observing His commandments is the only way to happiness: "Whoever keeps the commandment will know no evil." (Qo 8:5).  In the end, true wisdom is the humility of living life as a gift from God: "Every man who eats, drinks and enjoys well-being in all his labour: it is a gift from God. (Qo 3:13). 

*Responsorial Psalm 89/90 (3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14-17)

The psalm takes us to the context of a ceremony of supplication for forgiveness at the Temple in Jerusalem after the Babylonian exile: the prayer "Return, Lord, how long? Have mercy on your servants" (v. 13) is typical of a penitential liturgy.  This psalm is therefore a prayer asking for conversion: 'Teach us to count our days, that we may gain a wise heart' (v. 12). Conversion consists in living according to God's wisdom in order to know the true measure of our days. It is no coincidence that this psalm is offered to us as an echo of the first reading, from the book of Qohelet, a meditation on true wisdom, while the psalm offers a splendid definition of wisdom as the true measure of our days, a healthy lucidity about our condition as human beings. Born without knowing why and destined to die without even being able to foresee when: this is our destiny, and this is the meaning of the first verses we have read: You turn man back to dust when you say, 'Return, O children of men!' (v.3), that is, return to the earth from which I have drawn you. This does not create sadness but serenity because our misery rests on the greatness and stability of God: 'A thousand years in your sight are like yesterday when it is past, like a watch in the night' (v. 4). God gives us security because He wants only our good. However, trouble arises when we lose clarity about our misery, as chapters 2 and 3 of Genesis clearly illustrate, recounting the error of Adam, a symbolic character whose behaviour is considered a model of what not to do. "Adam did this or that" does not describe a hypothetical first man, but a type of behaviour, and in this light, this psalm is in harmony with the first reading, where Qohelet has Solomon, the wise king, speak at the beginning, but then seduced by luxury, power, and women who made him an idolater. In the second part of his reign, he behaved like Adam, who turned away from God's wisdom. This psalm invites us to rediscover the wisdom and humility of the young Solomon, because true wisdom is the awareness of man's smallness, which is never humiliating: a trusting, filial smallness. The conclusion is splendid: 'establish the work of our hands' (v. 17), which shows the cooperation between God and man: man works, God gives solidity and meaning to human work.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Colossians (3:1-5, 9-11)

Paul first makes a distinction between "things above" and "things on earth", two different ways of living: behaviours inspired by the Holy Spirit and those that are not. "Things above" are kindness, humility, gentleness, patience, mutual forgiveness, living according to the Spirit, and this is the behaviour of the baptised. "Things on earth" are debauchery, impurity, unbridled passion, greed, covetousness, behaviour not inspired by the Spirit. Paul establishes the link between baptism and the way of life: "if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above" (v. 1). He says "you have been raised," but then he says "you have died" (v. 2), and the words do not have the same meaning for him as they do for us. For Paul, from the resurrection of Christ onwards, nothing is as it was before. To be risen means precisely to be dead to the world and born to a life according to the Spirit, what he calls the realities above. The Christian is a "transformed person who lives in the manner of Christ," and Paul calls him "the new man." He does not despise "the things of the earth"; on the contrary, he will say shortly afterwards: "Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God through him" (3:17). It is not, therefore, a question of living a different life from the ordinary one, but of living it differently: not rejecting this world, but living it already as a seed of the Kingdom, where all men are brothers, as he explains in his letter to the Galatians (3:26-28) and repeats at the end of this Sunday's passage from the letter to the Colossians: "There is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free, but Christ is all and in all." The community of Colossae probably had the same problems as the Galatians and, in particular, the great question that agitated the early Christian communities, namely whether non-Jews who became Christians should take on Jewish practices: dietary rules, ritual ablutions, and above all circumcision. There were circumcised Christians and uncircumcised Christians, and some Jews insisted on circumcision. The answer to the Galatians and Colossians was the same: baptism makes everyone brothers and sisters, and all forms of exclusion are outdated; what matters is being a disciple of Christ. 

NOTE. Some exegetes believe that this letter attributed to Paul was not actually written by him; Paul, in fact, never visited Colossae: it was Epaphras, one of his disciples, who founded that community. According to a very common practice in the first century (called pseudepigraphy), it is hypothesised (but this is only a hypothesis) that a disciple very close to Paul's thinking addressed the Colossians under the authority of the apostle's name because the moment was serious. If this hypothesis is correct, it is not surprising to find in this writing phrases taken literally from Paul and others that show how theological reflection continued to develop in Christian communities. Jesus had said, 'The Spirit will guide you to the whole truth.' And in previous Sundays, we have already seen theological developments that are not yet found in Paul's own writings.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (12:13-21)

Jesus' response seems abrupt: "Who made me your judge or mediator?" However, as a good teacher, Jesus takes the opportunity to draw a lesson that he explains well with this parable. A man who has become rich through business is thinking about how best to enjoy his wealth; he thinks about demolishing his warehouses and building bigger ones to store all his grain and goods, and then he says to himself: 'My soul, you have many goods stored up for many years; rest, eat, drink and be merry' (v. 19). Unfortunately, he has forgotten that his life does not depend on him, and in fact he dies that very night. He thinks he is rich, but true wealth is not what he imagines. To better understand Jesus' teaching, we need to remember what he said earlier: "Be careful and keep away from all greed, because even if someone has an abundance, his life does not depend on what he has" (v. 13) and, even though it is not in this Sunday's liturgical reading, he concludes: "Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food and the body more than clothing' (Lk 12:22-23). Jesus' teaching is not new; it takes up themes already familiar in the Old Testament. Ben Sira said that those who become rich do not know how long they have to live, then they will leave their possessions to others and die (cf. Sir 11:18-19); and in this Sunday's first reading, Qohelet offered similar reflections: "What profit does a man gain from all his toil and from the cares of his heart, with which he toils under the sun?" (Qo 2:22), returning several times to the same theme (cf. Qo 5:9...15). The prophet Isaiah is very incisive in accusing the people of Jerusalem of being dazed by pleasures instead of listening to God's call to conversion (cf. Is 22:13), and the book of Job repeats: "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return there" (Job 1:21), a phrase still recited today in Israel at every funeral. All these phrases sound like reminders of the reality of life. Jesus denounces senseless behaviour: "Fool! This very night your life will be demanded of you. Then who will get what you have prepared for yourself?" (v. 20) and the parable ends: "So is the one who stores up treasure for himself and is not rich in God." This implies two things: Never forget that riches come from God and belong to him because he entrusts them to us to put them at the service of the Kingdom of God. Life is short, but precisely for this reason, let us hurry to put it to good use! Jesus responds sharply to the man asking for his inheritance: that man has his priorities wrong because the most precious inheritance is the faith we have received from our fathers. And every time Jesus responds sharply (to his mother at Cana (Jn 2:4) and to Peter in Caesarea (Mt 16:23), it is because his mission is at stake.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

17th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [27 July 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This time I have taken a little longer to present some important details of the readings in the NOTES, which are useful for personal meditation and for lectio divina during this holiday period.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (18:20-32)

This text marks a step forward in the idea that men have of their relationship with God: it is the first time that one dares to imagine that a man can intervene in God's plans. Unfortunately, the liturgical reading does not allow us to hear the previous verses in which we read that immediately after the encounter at the Oaks of Mamre, Abraham takes his leave, accompanying the three mysterious men to contemplate Sodom from above. The Lord, speaking to himself, says: 'Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, when Abraham is to become a great and powerful nation, and all the nations of the earth will be blessed in him?' (vv. 17-19). God takes the covenant he has just made very seriously, and it is here that what we might call 'the most beautiful negotiation in history' begins: Abraham, armed with all his courage, intercedes to try to save Sodom and Gomorrah from a punishment they certainly deserve. In essence, he asks if God really wants to destroy these cities even if he finds at least fifty righteous people, or only forty-five, forty, thirty, twenty, ten. What audacity! Yet, apparently, God accepts that man should act as his interlocutor: at no point does the Lord seem impatient and, indeed, he responds each time exactly as Abraham hoped. Perhaps God appreciates that Abraham has such a high opinion of his justice. In this regard, it can be noted that this text was written at a time when people were beginning to become aware of individual responsibility: in fact, Abraham would be scandalised by the idea that the righteous could be punished together with sinners and for their sins. We are far from the time when an entire family was eliminated for the sins of one. The great discovery of individual responsibility dates back to the prophet Ezekiel and the period of the Babylonian exile, i.e. the 6th century BC. We can therefore formulate a hypothesis about the composition of the chapter read today and last Sunday: it is a text written at a rather late date, although it derives from perhaps much older stories, whose oral or written form was not yet definitive. God loves it when people intercede for their brothers and sisters, as we can see with Moses: when the people made a 'golden calf' to worship immediately after swearing never to follow idols again. Moses intervened to beg God to forgive them, and God, who was waiting for nothing else, hastened to forgive them (Ex 32). Moses interceded for the people for whom he was responsible; Abraham, on the other hand, intercedes for pagans, and this is logical, after all, since he is the bearer of a blessing for all the families of the earth. This text is a great step forward in discovering the face of God, but it is only a stage, still within a logic of accounting: how many righteous people will it take to obtain forgiveness for sinners? The final theological step will be to discover that with God it is never a matter of payment. His justice has nothing to do with a scale, whose two pans must be perfectly balanced, and this is what St. Paul will try to make us understand in this Sunday's passage from the Letter to the Colossians. This text from Genesis is also a beautiful lesson on prayer, which is offered to us on the day when Luke's Gospel recounts Jesus' teaching on prayer, beginning with the Our Father, the plural prayer par excellence, which invites us to open our hearts to the whole of humanity. 

NOTE: Development of the notion of God's justice in the Bible: In the beginning, it was considered normal for the whole group to pay for the fault of one: see the case of Achan in the time of Joshua (Joshua 7:16-25). In a second phase, it is imagined that each person pays for himself. Here, there is a new step forward: if ten righteous people are found, they can save an entire city. Jeremiah dares to go further: a single righteous person can obtain forgiveness for all: 'Go through the streets of Jerusalem, search for one man who acts justly... I will forgive the city' (Jer 5:1). Ezekiel also reasons in these terms: 'I sought for a man among them who would stand in the breach before me... but I found none' (Ezek 22:30). It is with the book of Job, among others, that the final step is taken: when it is finally understood that God's justice is synonymous with salvation, not punishment. Jeremiah even goes so far as to invoke unconditional forgiveness, based solely on God's greatness: "If our sins testify against us, act, Lord, for the honour of your name!" (Jer 14:7-9). Before God, just like Jeremiah, Abraham understood that sinners have no other argument than God himself! Finally, note Abraham's optimism, which fully earns him the title of "father of faith": he continues to believe that all is not lost, that not all are lost. Even in a city as horrible as Sodom, he is convinced that there are at least ten good men!

Responsorial Psalm (137/138), 1-2a, 2bc-3, 6-7ab, 7c-8)

This psalm is a song of thanksgiving for the Covenant that God offers to humanity: the Covenant made first with Israel, but also the Covenant open to all nations, and Israel's vocation is precisely to bring other nations into it. Three times 

: 'I give thanks to you, Lord, with all my heart', 'I give thanks to your name for your love and your faithfulness', and – in verse 4, which we do not hear this Sunday – 'May all the kings of the earth give thanks to you'. Here we see a progression: first, it is Israel speaking on its own behalf: "I give you thanks, Lord, with all my heart"; then the reason is specified: "I give thanks to your name for your love and your faithfulness"; finally, it is the whole of humanity that enters into the Covenant and gives thanks: "May all the kings of the earth give thanks to you". 

Since we are talking about the Covenant, it is normal that there are allusions to the experience of Sinai and echoes of the great discovery of the burning bush when God told Moses that he had seen the misery of his people and had come down to free them (Ex 2:23-24). Echoing this, the psalm sings: "On the day I called, you answered me" (v. 3). Another reference to God's revelation at Sinai is the expression "your love and faithfulness" (v. 2): these are the same words with which God defined himself before Moses (Ex 34:6). The phrase "Your right hand saves me" (v. 7) is, for Jews, an allusion to the exodus from Egypt. The "right hand" is, of course, the right hand, and since Moses' song after the miraculous crossing of the Red Sea (Ex 15), it has become customary to speak of the victory that God obtained with a strong hand and a powerful arm (Ex 15:6, 12). The expression "Lord, your love is forever" (v. 8) also evokes all of God's work, particularly the Exodus, as in Psalm 135/136, whose refrain is: "For his love is forever." Another link between this psalm and Moses' song is the connection between the entire epic of the Exodus, the Covenant at Sinai, and the Temple in Jerusalem. Moses sang:

"The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. This is my God, and I will praise him, my father's God, and I will exalt him" (Ex 15:1-2, 13), and the psalm echoes:

"Not to the gods, but to you I will sing, I bow down toward your holy temple" (vv. 1-2) because the

Temple is the place where all God's work on behalf of his people is remembered. However, God's presence is not limited to a stone temple, but that temple, or what remains of it, is a permanent sign of that presence. And even today, wherever they are in the world, every Jew prays facing Jerusalem, towards the holy temple mountain, because it is the place chosen by God, in the time of King David, to offer his people a sign of his presence. Finally, God's greatness does not crush man, at least not those who recognise their own smallness: "The Lord is exalted, but he looks upon the humble; he recognises the proud from afar" (v. 6). This too is a great biblical theme: his greatness is manifested precisely in his goodness towards the smallness of man (cf. Wis 12:18) and Psalm 113/112: "He raises the weak from the dust, lifts the poor from the ash heap" and in the Magnificat: "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the humble". The believer knows this and is amazed: God is great, he does not crush us, but on the contrary, he makes us grow.

These parallels, that is, the influence of Moses' song, the experience of Sinai from the burning bush to the exodus from Egypt and the Covenant, are found in many other psalms and biblical texts.

This shows how much this experience was – and remains – the foundation of Israel's faith.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to the Colossians (2:12-14)

God has cancelled the document written against us (Col 2:14). Paul here refers to a widespread practice when money was borrowed: it was customary for the debtor to give the creditor a 'debt acknowledgement document'. Jesus also used this image in the parable of the dishonest steward. On the day his master threatens to fire him, he thinks of making friends for himself; to this end, he summons his master's debtors and says to each one, 'Here is your debt document; change the amount. Did you owe a hundred sacks of wheat? Write eighty' (Lk 16:7). As he often does, Paul uses the language of everyday life to express a theological thought. His reasoning is this: because of the seriousness of our sins, we can consider ourselves debtors to God. Moreover, in Judaism, sins were often called "debts"; and a Jewish prayer from the time of Jesus said: "In your great mercy, cancel all the documents that accuse us." Well, anyone who looks up at the cross of Christ discovers the extent of God's mercy for his children: with Him, it is not a matter of keeping accounts: 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do' is the prayer of the Son; but it is He himself who said, 'Whoever has seen me has seen the Father'. The body of Christ nailed to the cross shows that God is like this: He forgets all our wrongs, all our faults towards Him. His forgiveness is displayed before our eyes: "They will look on him whom they have pierced," said the prophet Zechariah (Zech 12:10; Jn 19:37). It is as if the document of our debt had been nailed to the cross of Christ. However, we are still surprised because this whole passage is written in the past tense: "buried with Christ in baptism, you have also been raised with him... with him God has given you life... forgiving us all our sins and cancelling the document written against us... he took it away by nailing it to the cross". 

NOTE Paul wants to affirm that the salvation of the world is already accomplished: this 'already-realised' salvation is one of the great themes of the Letter to the Colossians. The Christian community is already saved through baptism; it already participates in the heavenly reality. Here too we see an evolution with respect to some of Paul's earlier letters, such as 'We have been saved, but in hope' (Rom 8:24); "If we have been united with him in death, we will also be united with him in resurrection" (Rom 6:5). While the Letter to the Romans places the resurrection in the future, the Letters to the Colossians and Ephesians speak in the past tense, both of burial with Christ and of resurrection as an already present reality. “When we were dead in our sins, he made us alive with Christ – by grace you are saved –; with him he raised us up and seated us in the heavens in Christ Jesus” (Eph 2:5-6). “You were buried with Christ, with him you were also raised... You were dead... but God gave you life with Christ.” For Paul, baptism is like a second birth, and his insistence that salvation has already taken place through birth into a totally new life is probably also linked to the historical context: behind many expressions in the Letter, we can glimpse a climate of tension and conflict. The community in Colossae seems to be under dangerous influences, against which Paul wants to warn them: "Let no one deceive you with seductive words" (Col 2:4)... "Let no one trap you with empty and deceptive philosophy" (Col 2:8)... "Let no one judge you in matters of food and drink, or in regard to festivals or sabbaths" (Col 2:16). Thus, a recurring problem reappears in the background: how does one enter into salvation? Must one continue to strictly observe all Jewish law? Paul answers: through faith. This theme is present in many letters, and we find it clearly here as well (v. 12): buried in baptism with Christ... raised... through faith in the power of God who raised him from the dead. The Letter to the Ephesians repeats it even more clearly: 'It is by grace you have been saved, through faith, and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God. It is not the result of works, so that no one can boast.' (Eph 2:8-9) Life with Christ in the glory of the Father is not only a future hope, but a present experience of believers: an experience of new life, of divine life. From now on, if we want, Christ lives in us; and we are enabled to live the divine life of the risen Christ in our daily lives! This means that none of our old ways of acting is any longer an inevitable condemnation. Love, peace, justice, and sharing are possible. And if we do not believe this is possible, then we are saying that Christ has not saved us! Be careful! Until now, we have always spoken of the Letter to the Colossians as if Paul were the author; in reality, many exegetes believe that it was written by a disciple very close to Paul, inspired by his thought, but from a later generation. 

From the Gospel according to Luke (11:1-13)

It may come as a surprise, but Jesus did not invent the words of the Lord's Prayer: they come directly from Jewish liturgy and, more profoundly, from the Scriptures. Starting with the vocabulary, which is very biblical: Father, name, holy, kingdom, bread, sins, temptations... Let us begin with the first two questions: with great pedagogical skill, they are addressed first of all to God and teach us to say 'your name', 'your kingdom'. They educate our desire and commit us to collaborate in the growth of his kingdom. The Our Father, probably taught by Jesus in Aramaic, 'Abun d'bashmaya... nethqadash shimukin', which recalls liturgical Hebrew, is a school of prayer, or if you prefer, a method for learning to pray: let us not forget the disciple's request that immediately precedes it: 'Lord, teach us to pray' (v. 1). Well, if we follow Jesus' method, thanks to the Lord's Prayer, we will end up knowing how to speak the language of God, whose first word is Father. The invocation 'Our Father' immediately places us in a filial relationship with God and was already present in the Old Testament: 'You, Lord, are our Father, our Redeemer from everlasting'. (Is 63:16). The first two questions concern the name and the kingdom. "Hallowed be thy name": in the Bible, the name represents the person himself; to say that God is holy (kadosh / shmokh in Aramaic - separate) is to affirm that He is "beyond everything, and this request means: "Make yourself known as God". "Thy kingdom come": repeated every day, this question will transform us into workers in the Kingdom. God's will, as we know, is that humanity, gathered in his love, should become queen of creation: 'Fill the earth and subdue it' (Gen 1:27), and believers await the day when God will be recognised as king over all the earth, as the prophet Zechariah announced: 'The Lord will be king over all the earth' (Zech 14:9). Our prayer, our method of learning the language of God, will make us people who desire above all else that God be recognised, adored and loved, that everyone recognise him as Father, passionate about evangelisation and the Kingdom of God. The next three questions concern daily life: "Give us", "Forgive us", "Do not abandon us to temptation". God never ceases to do all this, and we place ourselves in an attitude of acceptance of his gifts. "Give us this day our daily bread" (τὸν ἐπιούσιον): the manna that fell every morning in the desert taught the people to trust day by day, and this request invites us not to worry about tomorrow and to receive food each day as a gift from God: here bread has various meanings, including the Eucharistic bread, as I will explain in the Note, and the plural "our bread" invites us to share the Father's concern to feed all his children. "Forgive us our sins, for we too forgive everyone who is indebted to us": God's forgiveness is not conditioned by our behaviour, and fraternal forgiveness does not buy God's forgiveness, but is the only way to enter into the divine forgiveness that is already given: those who have a closed heart cannot receive God's gifts. "Do not abandon us to temptation." Here there is a translation problem, because – once again – Hebrew grammar is different from ours: the verb used in the Hebrew prayer means "do not let us enter into temptation." This refers to every temptation, of course, but above all to the most serious one, the temptation to doubt God's love. The whole of life is involved in the Lord's Prayer: speaking the language of God means knowing how to ask, and asking is not only permitted but recommended because it is an exercise in humility and trust. Nor are these just any requests: bread, forgiveness, strength against temptation. All the requests are in the plural, and each of us makes them on behalf of the whole of humanity. Ultimately, there is a close connection between the first petitions of the Lord's Prayer and the subsequent ones: we ask God for what we need to fulfil our baptismal mission: Give us all we need – bread and love – and protect us, so that we may have the strength to proclaim your Kingdom. The Gospel immediately follows with the parable of the importunate friend who invites us never to stop praying, certain that the heavenly Father always gives the Holy Spirit to those who ask him (v. 13), so that even if our problems are not solved with a wave of a magic wand, we will no longer experience them alone but together with Him.

NOTE 

1 – Regarding 'bread' in verse 3: the same adjective is found in a prayer in the Book of Proverbs: 'Give me neither poverty nor riches; give me only my daily bread' (Pr 30:8).  

2 The term bread τὸν ἐπιούσιον, a very rare adjective, is a hapax legomenon, i.e. it appears only here (and in Mt 6:11), and is not found elsewhere in classical Greek literature or in the LXX (Septuagint). There are many interpretations, but ἐπιούσιος remains enigmatic and carries with it a wealth of meanings: the material bread necessary for daily life; spiritual bread, that is, the Word of God and the Eucharist, the sign of daily trust in the Providence of the Father. Some exegetes read it as 'bread for the day that is coming', thus a confident invocation for the immediate future. 

3. Jesus takes the Our Father directly from the Jewish liturgy, and here are some Jewish prayers that are at its origin: 'Our Father who art in heaven' (Mishnah Yoma, common invocation); 'May your name be sanctified in the world you have created according to your will' (Qaddish, Qedushah and Shemoné Esré); May your kingdom come quickly and be recognised throughout the world... May your will be done in heaven and on earth... Give us our daily bread...

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us... Lead us not into temptation... Yours is the greatness, the power, the glory... (1 Chr 29:11)

4. The final doxology of the Lord's Prayer: Many Christian groups, well before the Second Vatican Council, recited at the end of the Lord's Prayer: Yours is the kingdom, yours is the power and glory forever. This "doxology" (word of praise) is found in some manuscripts of Matthew, and is probably derived from a very ancient liturgical use, already in the first century, but dating back even further, to David's prayer (cf. Chronicles 29:11).

5. On the importance of prayers of petition, I echo an interesting image proposed by Duns Scotus: imagine a boat on the sea; on the shore there is a rock, on which there is a ring, and another ring on the boat, tied together with a rope The man who prays is like someone in the boat pulling on the rope: he does not pull the rock towards himself, but brings himself – and the boat – closer to the rock.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole