13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [28 June 2026]

First Reading from the Second Book of Kings (4:8–11, 14–16a)

Here is a brief overview of this Sunday’s biblical readings, beginning with this story of a beautiful human friendship. In Shunem, a village in the Northern Kingdom around 850 BC, Elisha, at the start of his ministry, forms a strong and lasting friendship with a wealthy family. The biblical authors do not recount this story merely as an anecdote: they have a theological purpose and show that the covenant between Elisha and the Shunammites is a reflection of the Covenant between God and Israel. This story unfolds in four acts: 1. The promise of a son: Elisha announces to the barren woman: ‘Next year, at this very time, you will be holding a son in your arms.’ She does not believe him and replies: ‘No, my lord, man of God, do not lie to your servant.’ Like Sarah at Mamre, she doubts. But the following year the child is born. 2. The resurrection: Years later, the child dies in the fields, struck down by heatstroke. Without losing faith, the mother lays the body on Elisha’s bed, in the room on the terrace, and runs to find him. She reminds him: ‘I had not asked you for anything; do not take this son from me.’ Elisha prays and raises the child from the dead. 3. The warning of famine: True to this friendship, Elisha warns the Shunammite woman of seven years of famine and advises her to leave for the land of the Philistines. She obeys and goes into exile. 4. The restoration of her property. On her return, her house and fields had been confiscated by the king’s officials. Elisha intervenes once more and restores her lands to her. But what theological lesson does this text offer us? This friendship illustrates five aspects of the Covenant between God and Israel: 1. A permanent covenant and faithfulness: God remains faithful even in the face of unbelief.  2. Constant care: Just as Elisha did for his hostess, God watches over his people without ceasing.  3. God dwells with us: Elisha accepts the room on the terrace: God wishes to dwell amongst his people, as in Solomon’s Temple.  4. God restores: Elisha restores the land; God promises to restore the land to Israel – a key message written during the Babylonian Exile.  5. God is the God of life: A promise of the child’s birth and resurrection, for God gives life. The Shunammite woman becomes a model of faith for us: she welcomes the prophet ‘as a prophet’, as Jesus will say in the Gospel of Matthew (10:41). Her trust is complete: she dares to tell God her needs and even her anger. She recognises Elisha as a ‘holy man of God’. Here is a practical application: God dwells in the heart of every person, and it is important to recognise this. 

Responsorial Psalm (88/89)

Here is a clear message: we must never doubt. The first reading recounts the long friendship between a family from Shunem and the prophet Elisha, the ‘man of God’. Through this human relationship, we reflect on the eternal Covenant between God and his people, and with all humanity. Psalm 88/89, which is proclaimed today, seems to be a song written in the midst of trial.  Although the few verses of the responsorial psalm seem full of joy, the complete psalm, comprising no fewer than 53 verses, was probably composed during the Babylonian Exile. It is a synthesis of the entire history of Israel: the beginning of the Covenant, the promises to David, the expectation of the Messiah… and then the collapse: no more kings in Jerusalem, no heir, and therefore no Messiah. Hence the anguished question in verse 50: ‘Where, O Lord, is your first love, the one you swore to David concerning your faithfulness?’. What is asserted with such force is, in reality, what one fears to have lost. The psalm is, moreover, the last in the third book of the Psalms and concludes with: ‘Blessed be the Lord for ever! Amen! Amen!’. It therefore has the character of a conclusion. On closer inspection, this psalm presents itself as a skilful composition. The first stanza is very carefully crafted, with parallel structures: I will sing of the Lord’s love without end; I will proclaim your faithfulness from age to age. Love/faithfulness, song/proclamation, without end/from age to age, established/stable, for ever/the heavens: a marvellous parallelism between time and space that invites us to cherish the singing of the Psalms.  The heart of the message is Love and faithfulness. In the complete psalm, the pairing ‘love and faithfulness’ occurs seven times, a symbolic number. It is the translation of the revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai: ‘A God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness’ (Ex 34:6) .   In Hebrew, ‘love’—that is, ‘God’s acts of love’—indicates that God does not love merely in words, but ‘in deed and in truth’, as St John will say in the New Testament.  It is precisely during the exile that Israel remembers, more than ever, ‘God’s acts of love’ so as not to fall into the temptation of thinking that God has forgotten them. In short, the psalm presents a group of believers composing hymns to commemorate the faithfulness of God, who has never ceased to be the King of Israel. The phrase “for the Lord is our shield, our King, the Holy One of Israel” is sung precisely at a time when there is no longer a human king. And it is interesting that the psalm uses royal and martial vocabulary: ‘shout of triumph/terouah, power, strength, vigour, shield’ – because the king led the army. These are victorious expressions spoken in a time of defeat. And the psalm concludes by recalling the insults suffered by the Messiah: ‘ Remember, Lord, your servants who have been humiliated… your enemies have humiliated, Lord, your Messiah”.   Moral: it is precisely in the night, in the darkness of exile and trial, that we must believe in the light and in the reaffirmation of God’s promises.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (6:3… 11)

St Paul points to a new way of life and responds to the objection  of those who reproach him, saying that by placing too much emphasis on the free gift of salvation, he is encouraging sin. He retorts: grace does not render sin irrelevant, but it no longer has power over the believer because, from Baptism, the believer is a ‘new creation’: ‘If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation’ (2 Cor 5:17). Paul explains the meaning of the key word ‘death’, which is not biological, and uses this word in a theological sense: all of us who have been baptised into Christ Jesus have been baptised into his death… we have therefore died to sin, and now we live for God in Christ Jesus. It is a radical break with the past, one that no longer fears physical death. Paul speaks from experience: on the road to Damascus, he ‘died’ to the old self, to his former way of seeing, acting and believing. The ‘baptism’ of Israel thus serves as a key for Paul to explain Christian Baptism, as he clearly recalls in his First Letter to the Corinthians (cf. 1 Cor 10:1–2) . Israel, ‘baptised’ by Moses in the cloud and the sea during the crossing of the Red Sea, experienced the death of Egyptian slavery: forced labour, massacres, the Pharaoh’s bad faith – and thus a clean break with the machinery of oppression.  In this way, Christ brings about the decisive break: the person enslaved by sin, by doubts, by violence, is set free. Jesus, ‘obedient unto death, even death on a cross’ (Phil 2:8), breaks the vicious circle. His death is a triumph: ‘dead to sin once and for all, alive to God’. To live in the manner of Christ is therefore ‘to die to sin’—that is, to die to the old way of life: hatred, violence, the thirst for power and money—in order to ‘live for and in God’, that is, to choose Christ as the one Lord and to enter into a new life made up of love and service to one’s brothers and sisters. Baptism marks the beginning of this radical change: it is true liberation. Paul says to the baptised: “Consider yourselves dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus”. The gift has already been granted, but it remains to be put into practice every day. And here lies the challenge that arises from it: whilst entering into salvation is simple—for it is enough simply to believe—living it out becomes extremely demanding, as it requires us to model our daily lives on the Spirit of Christ. He repeats this in his letter to the Ephesians: ‘Put off the old self… be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new self, created according to God in righteousness and true holiness’ (Eph 4:22–24). There is but one secret: to keep our eyes fixed on the cross of Christ. Only his obedience and gentleness break the chain of violence. As Jesus says: ‘Abide in me, and I in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, neither can you unless you remain in me’ (Jn 15:4).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (10:37–42)

This text helps us to learn how to accept the necessary sacrifices. At first glance, Matthew 10:37–42 seems like a list of unrelated maxims. In reality, it is a single invitation: these are the detachments required by fidelity to the Gospel. After the Sermon on the Mount on love, Jesus speaks here of other demands. We must learn to love God in times of persecution of the Church: ‘Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me’. Loving God does not mean ceasing to love one’s family, even though he had warned shortly before: ‘Brother will turn against brother and father against son, and children will rise up against their parents and put them to death’ (cf. Mt 10:21). ‘I have not come to bring peace, but a sword… I will set a man against his father’ (Mt 10:34–35; cf. Micah 7:6). How can this be explained?  Every persecution gives rise to personal tragedies because one is forced to choose between faithfulness and death. Even without violence, it is within the family and amongst friends that bearing witness is most difficult and can lead to heart-wrenching conflict. To learn to love is therefore to take up one’s cross: “Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it; whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  For Jesus and his listeners, crucifixion was a humiliating form of mass execution carried out along Roman roads, as it exposed the condemned to horror, disgrace and derision. In Deuteronomy we read that the crucified person is ‘cursed by God’ (Deut 21:22–23). And in Psalm 21/22, Jesus proclaims: ‘I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men, rejected by the people’, although the interpretation of this passage helps us to better understand what Jesus meant (in the footnote, I have taken the liberty of including a text I came across). Jesus knows that he and his disciples will be persecuted, despised and humiliated. “A servant is not greater than his master. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). “Taking up the cross” means accepting being marginalised, losing one’s reputation for the sake of faithfulness to Christ. Finally, here is the only reward that answers all our objections: “ Whoever welcomes you welcomes me; whoever welcomes me welcomes the One who sent me… Whoever welcomes a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; whoever welcomes a righteous person because he is righteous will receive a righteous person’s reward. And whoever gives even a single glass of cool water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple will not lose his reward”.  It sounds like a ‘give-and-take’, but it is not. We are not in the realm of ‘having’, but of ‘being’. God does not give quantities of goods, but eternal life: life in his very presence. All the saints bear witness to a quality of happiness, not a quantity.  Jesus himself promises: “ ‘Whoever has left houses, brothers, sisters, father, mother, children or fields for my sake will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life’ (Mt 19:29).  Paul lived this out: ‘Whatever gains I once had, I have come to regard as a loss for the sake of Christ… so that I may know Christ, share in his sufferings, and become like him in his death’ (Phil 3:7–10). ‘Being seized by Christ’ is what is at stake. If one seeks a common thread running through this text, it can easily be found in the link between all these phrases, precisely in this verb; ‘being seized by Christ’ as an inner fire that makes possible all acts of renunciation out of fidelity to the Gospel: renunciation of affection, of esteem, of possessions, of life itself. The Beatitudes resound powerfully within our hearts: ‘Blessed are you when they revile you… Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great! ” (Mt 5:11–12).

Note: Jesus, the “worm” on the cross. On the cross, JESUS COMPARED HIMSELF TO AN INSECT TO REVEAL THE SECRET OF HIS DEATH. THIS IS THE MYSTERY OF PSALM 22… As he was dying on the cross, Jesus recited Psalm 22. It is the quintessential prophetic psalm of the crucifixion. But in verse 6 there is a humiliating and bewildering phrase: ‘Yet I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people’ . Why does the King of the universe, at the most glorious moment of redemption, describe himself as a ‘worm’?  Middle Eastern zoology reveals one of nature’s most moving portraits of love. The TOLA’ATH SHANI תּוֹלַעַת שָׁנִי, the Hebrew word used by David, is not the common term for ‘earthworm’. He used Tola’ath Shani, meaning ‘crimson worm’, from which a red dye was extracted. When the female of this crimson worm is ready to give birth, she performs an instinctive and radical act: she seeks out a tree trunk and attaches herself to it forever. It clings to it with such force that, if anyone tries to pry it loose, its body is torn apart.  There, still attached to the wood, it gives birth to its young. To protect them from predators, the mother secretes a crimson-red fluid that covers her entire body, stains the wood red and completely envelops her young. In this act of giving life and protection, the mother dies.  

Here is the extraordinary phenomenon: three days later, the mother’s lifeless body, still attached to the tree, loses its red colour, turns as white as snow and falls gently to the ground (Isaiah 1:18). JESUS NAILED HIMSELF TO THE TREE TO GIVE YOU LIFE: Jesus was not using a metaphor of humiliation, but was proclaiming his mission, and this is a message for us.  Jesus was saying to you from the cross: ‘I am the Tola’ath Shani’. He chose to go to the tree of his own free will. He allowed himself to be nailed to the cross, knowing that if he had come down from it, his ‘children’ – us – would have died at the hands of the predator. He shed his crimson fluid – his blood – to cover you, protect you and give you life, by offering up his own.  When you feel worthless, when you think that nobody cares about you or that the enemy will devour you, look at the wood of the cross. You have a Saviour who chose to die nailed to a tree rather than lose you. His blood has covered you entirely and, three days later, He rose again to make you as white as snow. You are the fruit of His perfect sacrifice!

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul  [29 June 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (12:1–11)

The central theme of this text is: ‘God always delivers for the sake of the mission’. At that time, the young Church was under pressure, and the miracle of Peter’s deliverance must not make us forget the atmosphere of the early Church. Jesus died around AD 30, and at the beginning the disciples were few in number and harmless. The problems began with ‘too spectacular’ healings, which led to Peter being imprisoned twice by the religious authorities: the first time alongside John, involving a trial and threats, whilst the second time alongside other apostles, who were freed at night by an angel: ‘Go, stand in the Temple and proclaim to the people all these words of life’ (Acts 5:17–20).  Then came the execution of Stephen and the persecution that drove the ‘Hellenists’ to flee from Jerusalem towards Samaria and the coast. James, Peter and John remained. In the episode in Acts 12, it is the political authorities who take action. We are under Herod Agrippa I, grandson of Herod the Great, who reigned alone from 41 to 44 AD. This is why we can date the episode precisely.  Agrippa, ‘a Roman in Caesarea, a Jew in Jerusalem’, sought to curry favour with both Rome and the Jews. In both cases, the Christians were enemies to be eliminated. To please the Jews, he has James, son of Zebedee, put to death and imprisons Peter during the Jewish Passover, the Week of Unleavened Bread. What interests Luke is the mission, not just Peter, who once again escapes miraculously, because for Luke the central point is evangelisation. The angel does not set them free to save them, but because ‘the world needs them’. God does not abandon the apostles: no blind tyranny can halt the proclamation of the Word of life. There is a parallel between Easter, the Exodus and the Passion. In a sense, the story of the Jewish Passover is repeated: Israel, enslaved and threatened with genocide, is miraculously freed by God. From century to century, the people remember that liberation is God’s work. And what of this paradox: can those called to proclaim and carry out God’s liberating work become complicit in a new form of domination? No Church is immune. Jesus died precisely because of the perversion of the religious power of his time: during Easter, the memorial of the liberating God, the Son of God is killed by the ‘defenders of God’. Yet it is the love and forgiveness of the ‘meek and humble of heart’ God that triumphs: Jesus rises from the dead. Now it is the young Church that faces religious and political power, just as Jesus did 10–15 years earlier, again during Passover in Jerusalem.  The angel says to Peter: ‘Get up quickly! Put on your belt, fasten your sandals…’. These are the very same words given to Israel on the night of the Exodus: ‘Gird your loins, put sandals on your feet, and take your staff in your hand. You shall eat it in haste’ (Ex 12:11). Luke is saying: God continues the work of liberation.  The entire narrative is structured on the model of Christ’s Passion and Resurrection: night, prison, soldiers, the ‘steamroller’ of domination. Peter sleeps passively, like Jesus in the sleep of death. For both of them, light dawns in the night: God is at work. And here is the conclusion: Jesus had said to Peter: ‘The forces of death—that is, of hatred—will not prevail’, and this teaches us that the miraculous is not an end in itself. God sets us free so that the mission may continue through the ages. The deliverance from Egypt, Christ’s Passover, Peter’s imprisonment: it is a single plan of God who saves in order to send us forth to proclaim the life that no one can destroy.

Responsorial Psalm (33/34)

In this psalm, we are guided by this central theme: God hears the cry of the poor and responds with the Spirit and with brothers and sisters.  After Peter’s deliverance, the psalm reminds us: ‘The angel of the Lord encamps round those who fear him, to deliver them’. And we realise that, whilst the whole Church was praying fervently for Peter in prison, the Lord set him free: ‘The poor cry out,’ says the psalm, ‘and the Lord hears…’. This is what faith is: daring to cry out to God, knowing that, in every circumstance, He hears our cry. The community cried out, and Peter was set free. Yet one question always remains: what if deliverance does not come? Jesus on the cross did not escape death. Peter himself, years later, would be imprisoned in Rome and executed. So was God no longer listening then? It is the question we keep asking ourselves: where is God when we suffer? What is the point of praying, and if we are not answered as we would like, does that mean we have prayed badly? Too many people say, ‘If you pray properly, everything will work out’, but we know that is not always the case. How many have prayed, made novenas and gone on pilgrimages for a healing that never came? This psalm offers us three answers. 1. God hears our cry. As at the burning bush: ‘I have seen the misery of my people in Egypt; I have heard their cry under their oppressors. I know their sufferings’ (Ex 3:7). The believer knows that the Lord is near in suffering, ‘on our side’. Psalm 33/34 says: ‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me… he delivered me. He listens, he saves; his angel encamps round us, he is a refuge’. 2. God responds by giving us his Spirit. “Ask, and it will be given to you… Which father… would give a snake to a son who asks for a fish?” (Luke 11:9–13). Jesus does not promise that everything will be resolved “as if by magic”. When we pray, God does not remove the problem, but fills us with his Spirit. With the Spirit, we can face our trials. Every prayer offered in faith opens us up to the transforming action of the Spirit. The answer to the desperate cry is therefore the inner strength of the Spirit to change the situation, to overcome the trial. “The poor man cries out; the Lord hears him: he saves him from all his troubles… I sought the Lord, and he answered me: he delivered me from all my fears.” Whatever blow may come, the believer knows they are heard, and their anguish can subside. 3. God raises up brothers and sisters around us.  Here is the second lesson from the burning bush: as soon as God says to Moses, ‘I have seen… I have heard the cry… I know their sufferings’, he stirs within Moses the impulse to free the people: “Go, I am sending you to Pharaoh; bring my people out of Egypt” (Ex 3:9–10).  Israel has experienced this pattern many times: suffering, a cry, prayer, and God raising up prophets and leaders to take their destiny back into their own hands. This is precisely the historical experience of Israel. 4. Faith is like a double word, a double cry: man cries out his misery to God, like Job. God listens and frees him from his anguish. And man speaks again to give thanks.  Israel’s vocation throughout the centuries has been to give voice to this polyphony of suffering, praise and hope, and throughout the course of its history nothing has been able to extinguish Israel’s hope. This is what characterises the believer:  ‘I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall ever be on my lips. I take pride in the Lord: let the poor hear and rejoice!’

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (4:6–8, 17–18)

Not everyone agrees that the Letters to Timothy were written by Paul, but these lines are certainly his: indeed, they are his testament, his final farewell as a prisoner in Rome. He knows that he will be released only to be put to death. The ‘time of departure’ has come: he uses the Greek term anàlysis, ‘to cast off the moorings, to weigh anchor’.  Viewing life as a marathon, Paul takes stock using the sporting image dear to him: the long-distance runner crossing the finish line. The time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now all that remains is for me to receive the crown of righteousness.  In Rome, the victor did not receive a cup, but a laurel wreath. There is a crown for everyone, so Paul does not boast: he knows that the Lord, the righteous judge, will award it on that day; not only to me, but also to all those who have lovingly awaited his glorious appearing. God, the impartial judge, sees the intentions of the heart, and all the apostles, all the believers who have longed with love for the coming of Christ, will receive the crown. It is therefore not presumption, but unshakeable trust in God’s goodness. For the very strength to run comes from Him: ‘The Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that I might fulfil the proclamation of the Gospel and all the nations might hear it’. We must learn to expect everything from God: it is He who gives the strength to run, and it is He who gives the reward to all who run, for life is not a competitive race. Each in their own place, at their own pace; it is enough to ‘long with love for the coming of Christ’. Is this not the ‘blessed hope’ we profess at Mass: ‘We await your coming in glory’? For Paul, the definitive ‘manifestation’ of Christ has always been the horizon towards which to run, and he acknowledges that he has been forsaken by men, yet always sustained by the Lord. Like Christ on the cross and later Stephen, Paul forgives because it was precisely in his abandonment by men that he experienced the presence and strength of the Lord.  The final sentences are striking: he knows he will die, yet he says, ‘The Lord will deliver me from every evil and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom’. He is not, therefore, speaking of physical death, which he expects from one day to the next; he is speaking of the worst danger: giving up, abandoning the race, losing faithfulness. The Lord has preserved him from this ‘lion’. His faithfulness is not his own doing, but a strength he has received; and for him, death is merely biological, rather than the passage into glory, for which he is already singing the hymn of joy: ‘To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen’.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (16:13–19)

At Caesarea, a turning point is reached; an important shift takes place in the vision of Christ: from the powerful Jesus to Jesus, the Son of God, crucified.  For Matthew, the episode at Caesarea Philippi is a decisive stage: immediately afterwards, Jesus began to explain to the disciples that he had to go to Jerusalem, suffer greatly at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, be killed and rise again on the third day. ‘From this moment on’: thus a phase comes to an end, and what is surprising is that nothing new occurs in the titles, but everything is placed in a new light. Nothing unprecedented is said: Jesus gives himself the title ‘Son of Man’, which he has already used nine times in Matthew. Peter proclaims him ‘Son of God’, a title already used before. What is new is the leap in understanding: the ‘Son of Man’ in the Bible is the leader of God’s people, a title taken from the Book of Daniel: ‘Behold, one like a Son of Man was coming with the clouds of heaven… power, glory and a kingdom were given to him; all peoples, nations and languages served him. His power is eternal; his kingdom will never be destroyed’ (Dan 7:13–14). Daniel makes it clear that the ‘Son of Man’ is not merely an individual, but a people: ‘The saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess it for ever… the kingdom, the power and the greatness of the kingdoms under the whole heaven shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High’ (Dan 7:18, 27) .  When Jesus applies this title to himself, he presents himself as the one who stands at the head of God’s people. ‘Son of God’, on the other hand, is a title that expresses trust, not power.  This title has already been used: in chapter 4, when the devil tempts Jesus: ‘If you are the Son of God’. He is right about the title, but wrong about its meaning: he imagines a powerful and invulnerable Son who uses his power for himself. For Jesus, ‘being the Son of God’ means trusting the Father completely and drawing strength from his Word.  After Jesus walks on the water, the disciples say to him: ‘Truly, you are the Son of God’. They were struck by his power over the sea. They were still one step away from understanding who Jesus truly is. What is new at Caesarea is that Peter proclaims, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God’, not in response to a miracle; thus the ambiguity is dispelled and the journey towards true faith begins. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah: it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”  The novelty lies in the combination of the two titles: “Who is the Son of Man?” asks Jesus, and Peter replies, “He is the Son of God.” Jesus will make the same connection before the high priest: “You have said so. But I tell you: from now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven” (Mt 26:63). Here there is no longer any room for error: God reveals himself not as power and majesty, but as Love entrusted into the hands of humankind. As soon as Peter discovers who Jesus is,  Jesus entrusts him with a mission  for the Church: ‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church’. The Son of Man is a people, not an isolated individual.  On what does Christ—God made man—build his Church? On Peter, a fragile person whose only virtue is having listened to what the Father revealed to him. The sole pillar of the Church is faith in Jesus Christ.  ‘I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven: whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven’. This does not mean that Peter and his successors are omnipotent. It means that God is committed to them. If we remain in communion with the Church, we are in communion with God. The final reassurance is that Christ builds the Church, and herein lies the ultimate reason for our trust: Jesus says, ‘I will build my Church’. It is not our task to build it, but only to listen to what the living God wishes to reveal to us. And because it is the risen Christ, the Son of the living God, who builds it, we can be certain: “The gates of hell shall not prevail against it”.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

                                                                                                                                                         The ham.

The Treccani dictionary defines ‘ham’ as: ‘one who acts in theatrical performances’. In common parlance and in a figurative sense: ‘someone who adopts exaggeratedly theatrical behaviour in life; someone who puts on a show in a blatant and undignified manner’.

Many years ago, when I was still a teenager, Charles Aznavour released a beautiful song containing these words: ‘I am a ham. But genius was born with me […] but theatricality flows within me’.

A song which, if I’m not mistaken, was later covered by Massimo Ranieri some time later.

Perhaps those of us who are a bit older will also remember the original version.

A few days ago, I bumped into a young man with a VIP-like air about him, whom I’ve known since he was born.

He stopped, greeted me warmly and began telling me about his life, his work in the world of politics and his travels.

He said that one of his goals is to visit the wonders of the world and that he’d just returned from one such destination. He solemnly declared that he’d already visited several of them.

All this without me having asked anything, partly because he didn’t give me the chance. 

He was too caught up in his soliloquy and I was merely a spectator.

At the end of his speech, he tells me that he has completed dental treatment for a tooth that had been causing him a great deal of trouble and that he is still in pain […] he lists the medicines he is taking. Then he looks at me and ironically reiterates that when doctors encounter difficulties in their work, they always say it’s down to the mind.

And here came a thunderous laugh, coupled with all the ‘pathos’ with which he’d woven his narrative.

The only thing missing was the final round of applause, which didn’t come. Just a cordial ‘goodbye’.                                                                          My professional bias kicked in as I reflected on what had happened.

There are people who, rather than simply connecting with others, need to put on a show and seek the approval of others.   

This is something we all do to a certain extent, within acceptable limits, and it gives us pleasure. Such people sometimes go in search of an ‘audience’ where they can express and display their feelings and experiences, without worrying about building a relationship or a genuine connection – and once they have communicated their emotions, they leave quickly, often in search of another ‘audience’. 

They must always be the centre of attention and often express their emotions in a  theatrical manner. Everything they achieve is something grand; all their actions are ‘a triumph’.

Behind this behaviour, there is usually an enormous fear of being alone, of being abandoned. Of course, we all have these fears to some extent, but we do not resort to compensatory mechanisms of that sort.

Sometimes we are afraid of certain emotions we feel, as if we feared that what we are feeling is unhealthy. 

We must always bear in mind that what happens within our psyche is not entirely random or pathological, but purposeful and constructive. There are not only demons; there are angels too.

I can’t recall whether I’ve already expressed this idea, but I’ll reiterate it because I consider it important and because I think we’ll be less frightened if we realise we’re experiencing certain feelings.

Without referring to psychological manuals or classifications… we’ve all probably experienced feelings like those described above at certain times in our lives.

People with these characteristics are ‘theatrical’ and express their experiences in an exaggerated manner.

They can be seductive or even provocative.

They use their physical appearance in an exaggerated way to get noticed and appear interesting.

They rely more on emotion than on reflection, and tend towards superficiality and banality.

They are also easily influenced and idealise the people they admire; sometimes to the point of imitating them.

They dream of ideal love, but often become involved in unsuitable and unattainable relationships.

They exaggerate every physical sensation, even when there is no actual physical pain.

In severe cases, many people channel and project these emotions onto parts of the body that are psychologically significant to the individual and their personal history.

And so, as the young VIP mentioned above humorously put it, the psyche comes into play.

I do not wish to bore readers or come across as melodramatic myself, but many individuals have often expressed their unease through their bodies.

Some do so more visibly, others in a more subtle way – though perhaps more interesting and fascinating to an ‘insider’.

The literature often refers to ‘hysterical blindness’.

These people are unable to see properly – to a greater or lesser degree. I recall a teenager with visual problems being referred to our department’s psychological assessment (sent by the ophthalmology department).

However, it is not always accepted that objective problems may have an ‘internal’ cause, and so often either the psychological assessment – deemed offensive – is abandoned, or other solutions are sought that may give the illusion of a way out.

It also happens that some individuals, having been referred for an ‘internal’ assessment by leading Italian centres of excellence, but subsequently rejecting what was suggested to them, turn to private practitioners who offer solutions that are, unfortunately, sometimes harmful.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi, Psychologist and Psychotherapist.

Prophetic ardour, Salvation that does not repeat

(Lk 1:57-66.80)

Salvation - the cue for a full existence - runs through increasingly vast spaces and breaks into in a peremptory way, without ever repeating itself.

It does not ask for authoritative permits, nor does it wait for a beautiful swept and adorned dwelling.

It even enters the House (Israel) in which nothing was done but to commemorate, with no possibility of renewal and progress.

It transforms it, though scented with incense and pureness.

In that context, unfortunately, the Waiting had become a habit [to wait] that no longer expected anything.

The announcement of the new times, conversely, arouses contagious joys, a desire to make and affect the ancient habitual enclosure - in all aspects of mentality, suddenly no longer compliant.

Change ushers in an era of redemption: concretely, a life as people saved.

Trajectory now able to open loop holes on the great wall of conventions that bridle the freedom to be and to do.

Zechariah [«God makes memory»: the usual God and the usual memory] generates a Promise that is being fulfilled before the eyes.

Word-event that really visits the people - here and now, every dawn - imposing the «none of your kinship» (v.61) ie of the custom: here is Johanan [«God has made Grace»].

The Merciful Living One is no longer exactly that of the bloody and propitiatory cults at the Temple - but of the perspectives, of the deployed horizons. 

You find lightness. No conditioning blockage, no guilt sense for having diverted. In His proposals for dilated life, He is and remains «Favourable».

The Name to be imposed by ancient tradition conveyed a culture and a role (even) with sacred accents, reassuring.

By changing it, destiny is modified. Thus we does not fall into a garment, in a part to be recited; we grasp the essence of the expected Face.

The Eternal is not the One who invites to a series of identified roles to trace without respite: his unconditional initiatives offer every day a decisive field’s opening.

The Most High creates, and calls for development, for the better and further: the categories of possibilities are overflown!

The ancient barriers between Heaven and Earth, between Tradition and Manifestation, are about to fall in favor of a world prone to life.

Redemption begins to make sparks with textbook choices: they cannot stand each other anymore.

Even in our journey, accepting different horizons from the expected we allow the divine soul of salvation history to visit us.

This is so that the essence of our deep states detaches itself from the common judgment, and re-tunses on how much is still Unknown but we feel it belongs to us.

In each shift of gaze we will find another cosmos, a discreet, reserved Beauty - in which the Secret for each is nestled, a stage of complete realization for all.

Fulfilment is now «fortified in Spirit and in deserts» instead of according to manners and measure - in special places (v.80) from which one can push oneself out, even irregularly.

[Nativity of st. John the Baptist, 24 June]

Prophetic Ardour, Salvation that does not repeat

(Lk 1:57-66.80)

The new Creation announced in the periphery invests the territory that still hesitates over what is certified, proven and reassuring - because it is considered (around) pure and quoted.

Salvation - the cue for a full existence - travels ever wider spaces and breaks through in a peremptory manner, without ever repeating itself.

It does not ask for authoritative permission, nor does it wait for a beautifully swept and adorned dwelling.

It even enters the House (Israel) in which it did nothing but commemorate, with no possibility of renewal and progress.

He transforms it, albeit already perfumed with incense and purity.

In that sphere, unfortunately, the Waiting had turned into a habit [of waiting] that was no longer waiting for anything. One just held back, without much expectation.

On the contrary, the announcement of the new times arouses contagious joy, a desire to do and break the old habitual enclosure - in all aspects of mentality, suddenly no longer conforming.

The change ushers in an era of redemption: concretely, a life of the saved.

A trajectory now able to open up gaps in the great wall of conventions that bridle the freedom to be and to do.

Zechariah ["God makes memory": the usual God and memory] generates a Promise that is being fulfilled before our eyes.

Word-event that really visits the people - here and now, every dawn - imposing the "none of your kinship" (v.61) i.e. the custom - even priestly: here is Johanan ["God made Grace"].

The merciful Living One is no longer exactly that of the bloody and propitiatory cults in the Temple, but of perspectives, of unfolding horizons. 

One finds lightness. No conditioning blocks, no guilt for deviating. In His proposals of expanded life, He is and remains "Favourable".

The Name to be imposed by ancient custom conveyed a culture and a role (even) with sacred, reassuring veins.

Changing it changes destiny. One does not cast oneself in a robe, in a part to be played; one grasps the essence of the awaited Face.

The Eternal One is not the One who invites a series of pious and archaic identified ritual customs, to be followed relentlessly. His unconditional initiatives provide a decisive opening of the field every day.

The Most High creates and calls for development, for the best and the further super-eminent: the categories of possibility are surpassed!

The ancient barriers between Heaven and Earth, between Tradition and Manifestation, are about to fall, in favour of a world inclined to life.

Redemption begins to spark with textbook choices.

Writes the Tao Tê Ching (xix), which deems the most celebrated virtues external: 

"Teach that there is more to stick to: show yourself simple and keep yourself raw".

Master Wang Pi comments: 'Formal qualities are totally insufficient'.

And Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'Forget the regular and the creation of saints, return to what was at the Beginning'.

Even on our path, by accepting horizons other than the expected, we allow the divine soul of salvation history to visit us.

This is so that the essence of our deepest states can detach itself from common judgement, and re-tune to what is still Unknown rather than useful - but we feel belongs to us.

In each shift of gaze we find another cosmos, a discreet, reserved Beauty.

It leads back to our natural Core, to the Calling by Name in which lurks the Secret for each one, and a stage of full realisation for all.

The Fulfillment is now "fortified in Spirit and in deserts" instead of according to custom, measured - in the deputed places of the priestly liturgy (v.80) from which one must push oneself out, even irregularly.

To internalise and live the message:

How many times have you heard that you are not doing well?

How do you realise the timing of God's change?

What astonishment have you experienced in your spiritual journey?

What difference have you measured against your expectations and intentions?

How do you plan to build your dignity as an outrider?

What principle of discernment is used in your community? Do you start from your unrepeatable Vocation or is there an addictive and homologising cliché, other names that you have to repeat and copy?

"What do you think he will become, this son of mine?" [by Teresa Girolami]

Today's Gospel presents us with the birth of John, the prophet of Christ, and the amazement of onlookers:

"What shall this child be? And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him" (Lk 1:66).

In the life of Francis, from his birth, a visible sign of God's predilection was manifested on him and his mother Mona Pica.

The Sources make this clear:

"In fact, she was made to share, as a privilege, a certain resemblance to the ancient Saint Elizabeth, both by the name imposed on her son and also by the prophetic spirit.When neighbours expressed their admiration for Francis' generosity of spirit and moral integrity she would repeat, almost divinely inspired:

"What do you think he will become, this son of mine? Know, that by his merits he will become a son of God'.

Indeed, this was also the opinion of others, who appreciated Francis as already grown up for some of his very good inclinations.

He shunned anything that might sound offensive to anyone and, growing up with a gentle spirit, he did not appear to be a son of those who were called his parents.

Therefore the name of John is appropriate to the mission he then carried out, that of Francis to his fame, which soon spread everywhere after his full conversion to God.

Above the feast of any other saint, he held that of John the Baptist to be most solemn, whose distinguished name had imprinted in his soul a sign of arcane power.

Among those born of women there arose none greater than this, and none more perfect than this among the founders of religious orders. It is a coincidence worthy of note' (FF 583).

[Teresa Girolami].

According to which image and likeness?

Our gaze goes to Giulio Romano's painting above the high altar of this church: it shows the Holy Family, with John the Baptist still a child, the Apostle James and the Evangelist Mark, the latter already adults.

The Baptist briskly points with his left hand to the Child Jesus, depicted in his infantile weakness. To the question of the relatives and neighbours of Elizabeth and Zechariah: "What is to become of this child?" the painting seems to give us this answer: John the Baptist points with all his attitude to Jesus to the visitor James who is close to him; he bows deeply in the awareness of his littleness: I am not worthy to untie the strap of the sandal to him who comes after me, but who is before me. This word has nothing to do with false humility. The Baptist is too upright, too sober for that. He certainly recognised human helplessness better than most men.

The preacher of penitence who questions men in their innermost being, who shakes them out of their certainties and transforms them, who snatches them from the superficiality of a purely earthly materialistic attitude, still belongs to the Old Covenant, he is just the one who points the way to the Kingdom of God; and this Kingdom of God is near, one hears the voice of the one who calls in the wilderness. The Baptist's humility is authentic. But God exalted the littleness of the Baptist with the greatness of the task entrusted to him; indeed, he had already exalted him in his mother's womb: before he was even born, he was in fact already 'reborn' by the Spirit of Christ. Human greatness is nothing compared to the smallness that is called to participate in the greatness and holiness of God.

For us priests, John is a model. He seeks nothing for himself, but everything for the one he now points to. The child already represents in a certain way the word transmitted to us in the fourth Gospel: "He must increase and I must decrease" (John 3: 30). John was to lead men to Jesus and bear witness [...].

John and the story of his life are like a slide on which a name and a truth are indicated. It remains dark until a source of light is lit behind it. Thus says the Gospel of John: 'He was not the light, but he was to bear witness to the light' (John 1: 8). The light of God is decisive in his life and mission. By its light we become seers, to recognise God's will. This is often contrary to our desires and our own will. When it came to naming the newborn John at his circumcision, tradition was decisive: he would receive his father's name. But Elisabeth decided otherwise. She knew God's will and gave the child the name 'John', which means 'God is merciful'.

Why should it have been so only then?

We can all experience the power and goodness of God in our lives when we trust in him and strive earnestly to do his will. But this requires from us humility and the realisation that man does not possess the measure of all things. We cannot see ourselves as the yardstick of every thought, every morality and every right. We too easily succumb to the belief that everything can be made, heaven as well as earth, indeed man himself, according to our own image and likeness.

[Pope John Paul II, S. Maria dell'Anima homily 24 June 1990].

“All four Gospels place the figure of John the Baptist at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and they reveal him as the one who prepared the way for Jesus. St Luke presents the connection between the two figures and their respective missions at an earlier stage.... Even in conception and birth, Jesus and John are linked together” (Jesus of Nazareth: The Infancy Narratives, p. 14).

This setting helps us to realize that John, as the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, both from priestly families, is not only the last of the prophets but also represents the entire priesthood of the Old Covenant and thus prepares people for the spiritual worship of the New Covenant inaugurated by Jesus (cf. ibid., pp. 18-19). In addition, Luke discredits all the mythical interpretations that are often made of the Gospels, by putting the Baptist’s life in its historical context and by writing: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate being governor... in the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (Lk 3:1-2). The great event, the birth of Christ, which his contemporaries did not even notice, fits into this historical framework. For God the great figures of history serve as a frame for the lowly!

John the Baptist is described as “the voice of one crying in the wilderness: Prepare the way for the Lord, make his paths straight” (Lk 3:4). The voice proclaims the word, but in this case the Word of God comes first, since the word of God came to John, the son of Zechariah, in the wilderness (cf. Lk 3:2). He therefore plays an important role but always in terms of Christ. St Augustine comments: “John is the voice, but the Lord is the Word who was in the beginning (cf. Jn 1:1). John is the voice that lasts for a time; from the beginning Christ is the Word who lives for ever. Take away the word, the meaning, and what is the voice? Where there is no understanding, there is only a meaningless sound. The voice without the word strikes the ear but does not build up the heart” (In ev. Johannis tractatus 293, 3: pl 38, 1328).

Today it is up to us to listen to that voice so as to make room for Jesus, the Word who saves us, and to welcome him into our hearts. Let us prepare ourselves in this Season of Advent to see, with the eyes of faith in the humble Grotto of Bethlehem, God’s salvation (cf. Lk 3:6). In the consumer society in which we are tempted to seek joy in things, the Baptist teaches us to live in an essential manner, so that Christmas may be lived not only as an external feast, but as the feast of the Son of God who came to bring men and women peace, life and true joy.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 9 December 2012]

The particular circumstances of John's birth have been handed down to us by the evangelist Luke. According to an ancient tradition, it took place in Ain-Karim, before the gates of Jerusalem. The circumstances surrounding this birth were so unusual that even at that time people were asking: "What is this child to be?" (Lk 1:66). It was evident to his believing parents, neighbours and relatives that his birth was a sign from God. They clearly saw that the "hand of the Lord" was upon him. This was already demonstrated by the announcement of his birth to his father Zechariah, while he was providing priestly service in the temple in Jerusalem. His mother, Elisabeth, was already advanced in years and was thought to be barren. Even the name 'John' he was given was unusual for his environment. His father himself had to give orders that he be called "John" and not, as everyone else wanted, "Zechariah" (cf. Lk 1:59-63).

The name John means in the Hebrew language "God is merciful". Thus already in the name is expressed the fact that the newborn child would one day announce God's plan of salvation.

The future would fully confirm the predictions and events surrounding his birth: John, son of Zechariah and Elisabeth, became the "voice of one crying out in the wilderness" (Matt 3:3), who on the banks of the Jordan called people to penance and prepared the way for Christ.

Christ himself said of John the Baptist that "among those born of women no greater one has arisen" (cf. Mt 11:11). That is why the Church has also reserved a special veneration for this great messenger of God from the very beginning. An expression of this veneration is today's feast.

4. Dear brothers and sisters! This celebration, with its liturgical texts, invites us to reflect on the question of man's becoming, his origins and his destination. True, we already seem to know a great deal about this subject, both from mankind's long experience and from ever more in-depth biomedical research. But it is the word of God that always re-establishes the essential dimension of the truth about man: man is created by God and willed by God in his image and likeness. No purely human science can demonstrate this truth. At most it can come close to this truth or intuitively surmise the truth about this 'unknown being' that is man from the moment of his conception in the womb.

At the same time, however, we find ourselves witnessing how, in the name of a supposed science, man is 'reduced' in a dramatic trial and represented in a sad simplification; and so it happens that even those rights that are based on the dignity of his person, which distinguishes him from all the other creatures of the visible world, are overshadowed. Those words from the book of Genesis, which speak of man as the creature created in the image and likeness of God, highlight, in a concise yet profound way, the full truth about him.

5. We can also learn this truth about man from today's liturgy, in which the Church prays to God, the creator, in the words of the psalmist:

"Lord, you scrutinise me and know me . . . 

It is you who created my bowels 

and wove me in my mother's womb . . . 

you know me to the depths. 

When I was formed in secret . . . 

my bones were not hidden from you . . . 

I praise thee, for thou hast made me as a prodigy' (Ps 139 [138], 1. 13-15).

Man therefore is aware of what he is - of what he is from the beginning, from the womb. He knows that he is a creature that God wants to meet and with whom he wants to dialogue. What is more: in man, he wants to meet the whole of creation.

For God, man is a 'someone': unique and unrepeatable. He, as the Second Vatican Council says, "on earth is the only creature that God willed for itself" (cf. Gaudium et Spes, 24).

"The Lord from my mother's womb has called me; from my mother's womb he has pronounced my name" (Is 49:1); like the name of the child who was born in Ain-Karim: "John". Man is that being whom God calls by name. For God he is the created 'you', of all creatures he is that personal 'I', who can address God and call him by name. God wants that partner in man who addresses him as his own creator and Father: 'You, my Lord and my God'. To the divine "you".

6. Dear brothers and sisters! How do we men respond to this call of God? How does the man of today understand his life? In no other age have so many efforts been made through technology and medicine to safeguard human life against disease, to prolong it ever longer and to save it from death. At the same time, however, no other age has produced so many places and so many methods of contempt and destruction of man as ours. The bitter experiences of our century with the death machines of two world wars, the persecution and destruction of entire groups of men because of their ethnic or religious affiliation, the atomic arms race to the extreme, the helplessness of men in the face of great misery in many parts of the earth may lead us to doubt, if not even to deny, God's affection and love for man and for the whole of creation.

Or is it not rather the case that we should ask ourselves the question in reverse, when we consider the terrible events that have befallen the world because of mankind, and in the face of the manifold threats of our time: has man not turned away from God, who is his origin, and raised himself up as the centre and standard of his own life? Do you not think that in the experiments being conducted on man, experiments that contradict his dignity, in the mental attitude of many towards abortion and euthanasia, a worrying loss of respect for life is expressed? Is it not evident, even in your society, when one looks at the lives of many - characterised by inner emptiness, fear and flight - that man himself has severed his roots? Are not sex, alcohol and drugs to be understood as warning signals? Do they not indicate, perhaps, a great loneliness in today's man, a longing for care, a hunger for love that a world turned in on itself cannot quench?

In fact, when man is no longer connected to his root, which is God, he becomes impoverished of inner values and gradually becomes subservient to various threats. History teaches us that men and peoples who believe they can exist without God are invariably doomed to the catastrophe of self-destruction. The poet Ernst Wiechert expressed it in this sentence: 'Be assured that no one will fall out of this world who has not first fallen out of God'.

On the contrary, from a living relationship with God, man acquires an awareness of the uniqueness and value of his own life and personal consciousness. In his concretely lived life, he knows that he is called, supported and spurred on by God. Despite injustice and personal suffering, he understands that his life is a gift; he is grateful for it and knows that he is responsible for it before God. In this way, God becomes for man a source of strength and confidence, and at this source man can make his life worthy and also know how to generously put it at the service of his brothers and sisters.

7. God called John the Baptist already "in the womb" so that he might become "the voice of one crying out in the wilderness" and thus prepare the way for his Son. In a very similar way, God has also "laid his hand" on each one of us. For each of us he has a particular call, each of us is entrusted with a task designed by him for us.

In each call, which may come to us in the most diverse way, we hear that divine voice, which then spoke through John: "Prepare the way of the Lord!" (Matt 3:3).

Every man should ask himself in what way he can contribute within the scope of his work and position, to open the way for God in this world. Every time we open ourselves to God's call, we prepare, like John, the way of the Lord among men.

[Pope John Paul II, 24 June 1988]

Today’s liturgy invites us to celebrate the feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist. His birth is the event which illuminates the life of his parents, Elizabeth and Zechariah, and engages his kindred and neighbours in joy and wonder. These elderly parents had dreamed and even prepared for that day, but they were no longer expecting it: they felt excluded, humiliated, disappointed: they were childless. Faced with the announcement of the birth of a son (cf. Lk 1:13), Zechariah was incredulous because the laws of nature did not allow it. They were old, they were elderly. Consequently, the Lord rendered him mute for the entire gestation period (cf. v. 20). It was a sign. But God does not rely on our reasoning and our limited human abilities. We must learn to trust and be silent before the mystery of God and to contemplate, with humility and silence, his work which is revealed in history and often exceeds our imagination.

And now that the event comes to pass, now that Elizabeth and Zechariah experience that “with God nothing will be impossible” (Lk 1:37), their joy is great. Today’s Gospel reading (Lk 1:57-66, 80) announces the birth and then pauses on the moment of the bestowal of the child’s name. Elizabeth chooses a name that is foreign to her family’s tradition and says: “he shall be called John” (v. 60): a freely given and, by then, an unexpected gift, because John means “God has given grace”. And this child will be a herald, a witness to God’s grace for the poor who, with humble faith, await his salvation. Zechariah unexpectedly confirms the choice of that name by writing it on a tablet — because he was mute —, and “immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue loosed, and he spoke, blessing God” (v. 64).

The entire event of the birth of John the Baptist is surrounded by a joyous sense of wonder, surprise and gratitude. Wonder, surprise, gratitude. The people are filled with a holy fear of God “and all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea” (v. 65). Brothers and sisters, the faithful people sense that something great has occurred, even though it is humble and hidden, and they ask themselves: “What then will this child be?” (v. 66). The faithful People of God are able to live the faith with joy, with a sense of wonder, of surprise and of gratitude. We see those people who spoke well about this marvelous thing, this miracle of John’s birth, and they did so with joy, they were happy, with a sense of wonder, surprise and gratitude. And looking at this, let us ask ourselves: how is my faith? Is it a joyous faith or is it a faith that is always the same, a ‘dull’ faith? Do I feel a sense of wonder when I see the Lord’s works, when I hear about evangelization or the life of a saint, or when I see many good people do I feel the grace within, or does nothing move in my heart? Am I able to feel the Spirit’s consolation or am I closed off? Let us ask ourselves, each of us, in an examination of conscience: How is my faith? Is it joyful? Is it open to God’s surprises? Because God is the God of surprises. Have I ‘tasted’ in my soul that sense of wonder which the presence of God brings, that sense of gratitude? Let us think about these words which are the moods of faith: joy, a sense of wonder, a sense of surprise and gratitude.

May the Blessed Virgin help us to understand that in each human person there is the imprint of God, the source of life. May she, Mother of God and our Mother, make us more aware that in having children parents are acting as God’s assistants. It is a mission that is truly sublime, which makes each family a shrine of life, and it — each child’s birth — awakens joy, wonder and gratitude.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 24 June 2018]

12th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [21 June 2026]

First reading from the Book of the Prophet Jeremiah (20:10–13)

This passage is one of what are known as the ‘Confessions of Jeremiah’; we might also call them the ‘Confidences of Jeremiah’. Here the prophet reveals what lies deepest in his heart, and today’s few lines sum up his feelings well. His life is a constant paradox: that which constitutes his deepest joy, his reason for living, his security, is also the source of all his suffering. It is the Word of God. It is not explicitly named in this text, but it is clearly implied. It is because he proclaims the Word of God “in season and out of season” (as St Paul would say) that he is persecuted; yet it is precisely this same Word that gives him the strength to carry on. It is often said that no one is a prophet in his own land, and this applies perfectly to Jeremiah. He was a great prophet, but this was only realised after his death. During his lifetime, his message proved too uncomfortable. He himself specifies the period of his preaching: from the thirteenth year of Josiah’s reign until the deportation from Jerusalem, that is, from 627 to 587 BC. Forty years during which he saw several kings succeed one another in Jerusalem, but very few listened to him. What was he reproached for? Simply the courage to speak the truth. And the truth was by no means reassuring: from the top to the bottom of the social ladder, breaches of the Covenant were multiplying in every sphere. Here is an example of his preaching: “They are all adulterers, a band of traitors” (Jer 9:1)… “From the least to the greatest, all are greedy for gain; from the prophet to the priest, all practise deceit” (Jer 8:10). In other words, corruption and the love of money had corroded the whole of society, and religion was nothing more than a façade. For this reason, he spent much of his life crying out, provoking, and denouncing. At times he even performed unusual acts to warn the king, the court, the priests and all those in authority who were leading the people to ruin. On a political level, he sought to open the eyes of his compatriots and dared to announce what was by now evident: Nebuchadnezzar would soon overrun Jerusalem. To make himself better understood, he performed a spectacular act: he publicly smashed a brand-new jug fresh from the potter’s hands, to announce the fate awaiting Jerusalem, which would be reduced to shards (Jer 19:1–11). But instead of listening to him, they accused him of being an accomplice of the enemy because, as the saying goes, there is none so deaf as those who will not hear.

Nevertheless, nothing and no one could divert him from his mission, and his secret lay simply in the awareness that he had been sent by God. His second secret was knowing that he was too small for the task entrusted to him and therefore did not seek strength in himself, but in God. And he experienced God’s presence at the heart of all his trials. In this regard, his prayer remains striking: “Lord, let me see the vengeance you will take upon them, for to you I have entrusted my cause.” An expression that suggests three observations. First of all, the desire for revenge is deeply human, and the prophet remains a man; his particular mission makes him neither insensitive nor a superman. Secondly, he does not seek revenge, but entrusts everything to God. Finally, beyond personal retribution, what Jeremiah ardently desires is the triumph of truth. Like every true prophet, he already knows that God’s love will be stronger than anything and that one day it will succeed in eliminating all evil from the earth. This is what he calls God’s vengeance: God’s eternal triumph over the forces of evil.

Responsorial Psalm (68/69)      

This psalm arises from the cry of a believer persecuted because of his faithfulness to God. The psalmist suffers humiliation, insults and perhaps even imprisonment, yet he continues to trust in the Lord, certain that God hears the humble and does not abandon those who belong to him. His suffering stems precisely from his love for God: “My love for your house consumes me”, and the insults directed at God also fall upon him. This experience recalls the story of the prophets of Israel, often persecuted by their own people. Among them stands out Jeremiah, who, like all true prophets, had the courage to proclaim God’s truth even when it was inconvenient. The prophet is, in fact, the voice of God in the world and, since God’s thoughts do not coincide with those of men, he inevitably goes against the tide. His word calls for justice, holiness, brotherhood and conversion, bringing to light what many would prefer to hide. For this reason, prophets often experience rejection and discouragement. Moses, Elijah and, above all, Jeremiah went through moments of profound suffering. Jeremiah even went so far as to curse the day of his birth, overwhelmed by persecution and humiliation. His experience recalls that of Job and, in a broader sense, that of the entire people of Israel in times of trial. The psalmist describes his condition as that of a man who is drowning: the waters overwhelm him, the mud drags him down, and there seems to be no hope left. Yet, even in the darkest hour, he continues to pray. The very Word of God that causes him suffering is the source of his strength. The imagery of the psalm recalls the story of Jeremiah, thrown into a cistern for denouncing the religious corruption of the people and the Temple. In the same way, Jesus will take up this prophetic tradition when he drives the merchants out of the Temple; and on that occasion, the evangelist John will apply the words of the psalm to Christ: ‘Zeal for your house will consume me’. The psalm concludes, finally, on a note of trust and thanksgiving. In biblical tradition, supplication and thanksgiving are closely linked: the believer praises God even before seeing deliverance realised, because he is certain of God’s faithfulness. For this reason, the psalmist already proclaims God’s victory, the salvation of the poor and the joy of those who seek the Lord. Thus, lamentation is transformed into hope, and the suffering of the righteous becomes a testimony to the certainty that God never abandons his faithful.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:12–15)

 St Paul contrasts Adam and Jesus Christ, not as two historical figures to be compared, but as two opposing ways of life. Adam represents humanity seeking happiness, power and fulfilment far from God, relying on its own strength. Jesus Christ, on the other hand, represents the man who lives in full communion with God, welcoming his love and his life. According to the account in Genesis, God created man to share in his own life. The ‘breath of life’ received from God indicates that human beings truly live only when they remain united with him. The desire for greatness, happiness and the infinite that dwells in the human heart is therefore good and corresponds to God’s plan. The serpent’s error lies in leading Adam and Eve to believe that they can become “like God” without God, through disobedience. In doing so, they voluntarily sever the vital bond with the Creator and fall into spiritual death. Paul, in fact, speaks of death and life primarily in a spiritual, not a biological, sense.

Adam thus symbolises original sin: the man who seeks to appropriate what belongs to God and ends up turning away from the source of life. Jesus Christ, on the contrary, does not seek to seize equality with God, but lives in total acceptance of the Father’s love. For this reason, He is without sin, ‘full of grace and truth’. Thanks to Christ, humanity can be restored to communion with God. In Him, the bond between God and man is perfectly realised: He draws all to Himself and enables people to receive divine life once more.

Paul thus presents two fundamental choices: to live like Christ, welcoming God’s breath and love, and growing in the spiritual life; Or to live like Adam, seeking happiness independently of God, with the result of spiritual death. Grace is not an object one possesses, but the loving relationship between God and humanity. Jesus Christ has restored this vital relationship, for which we were created. As St Augustine says: ‘You have made us for Yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.’ Similarly, for St John, eternal life consists in knowing and loving God and Jesus Christ. True life and true joy are found only in union with God; to seek them elsewhere is an illusion that leads to spiritual death

From the Gospel according to Matthew (10:26–33)

Jesus warns his disciples that the mission of proclaiming the Gospel will not be easy. He sends them “like sheep among wolves” and foretells persecutions, trials, floggings and even the hatred of all because of his Name. For this reason he repeats several times: Do not be afraid. The reason for this encouragement is that the truth of God cannot be stopped. All that was hidden will be revealed, and what Jesus has entrusted to his disciples must be proclaimed openly. In Christ, God’s plan of love is fully revealed, a plan that in the Old Testament had been revealed only gradually through prophets and sages. The disciples, having seen and heard Christ, cannot remain silent about what they have experienced. When Matthew writes his Gospel, Christians are already suffering persecution, especially from certain Jewish circles. This teaching therefore serves to strengthen their faithfulness. If the Church exists today, it is also because those first believers overcame their fear and remained steadfast in the faith. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Jesus distinguishes between two kinds of danger: physical death, which the disciples may suffer as a result of persecution; and spiritual death, which is far more serious, consisting in separation from God. This is why he says: “Do not fear those who kill the body” but rather those who can cause a person to lose their communion with God. The true fear must be that of abandoning the mission by yielding to the temptation of unfaithfulness. To reassure his disciples, Jesus reminds them that they are constantly under the Father’s protection: not a single sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing it, and even the hairs on their heads are counted. God knows and watches over each one personally. Jesus also promises that whoever acknowledges him before men will be acknowledged by him before the Father. To be a Christian therefore means to declare oneself united to Christ not only in words, but through one’s life, for through Baptism we are grafted into him and share in his relationship with the Father. This is why St Paul can affirm that nothing can separate us from the love of God manifested in Christ. When Jesus says: ‘Whoever denies me before men, I too will deny him before the Father’, he is not pronouncing a definitive condemnation, but reminding us of human freedom. Like Peter, who denied Jesus during the Passion, even those who stray can always return. And Christ, as He did with Peter after the Resurrection, continues to ask but one question: Do you love me? The disciple of Christ may encounter hostility and persecution, but must not fear. The real threat is not losing one’s earthly life, but turning away from God. Those who remain faithful to Christ live in the certainty that nothing can separate them from His love.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Unconventional firmness

(Mt 7:6.12-14)

The Good News is Pearl (v.6). Gem that should not be dispensed to those who would use it only as a tool.

There are in fact those who maintain the ancient competitive, pagan mentality - sometimes even aiming to support their own conceptions of domination with beautiful manners [which sooner or later let the masks fall off]. Someone perhaps with the cover of the same Word of God, but without the leap of Faith.

It does not allow to overturn values.

There are many tricks that the opportunists of religion can put in place to attract the eye and exploit the naivety of the little ones - then turn against them.

The simple always have their hearts in hands, and spontaneously trust their neighbour.

Faced with old and new barkers, the sons of God often give to everything in gold value - but sometimes being plagiarized and exploited.

And we know the mechanisms of sects, which guarantee happiness, closing the adepts in mental cages.

The Lord does not promise us new life... only when we have finally dispelled our doubts, definitively solved problems, realized dreams and ambitions.

Christ does not wish to deprive sensitive souls to the point of expropriating them and not making aware, involving in useless battles.

The Father wants everyone to express their creative abilities, the different characters that inhabit - in which the personal deep son’s nature takes shape.

Traits all to be discovered. And that has its meaning with regard to Salvation.

Unfortunately, here and there come out very dangerous individuals and real agencies of manipulation, which alienate people.

We recognize them by now: in those who presume of themselves and are so swollen that them will never pass through a small door (vv.13-14) .

In this way they will never trace new roads. And unfortunately, they will do everything so that others do not explore them too.

Evaluation must be constantly exercised, lest the false saints [into whom as inexperienced people we risk falling] succeed in defiling our person and Calling.

So - as Pope Francis pointed out - «Lamb... with Christian cunning. Lamb, not fool».

As Pope Benedict said: «there is always the temptation to interpret religious practice as a source of privilege or security».

So, how to identify those who intend to dehumanize us, closing ourselves in obsessive comparisons - using us only for profit - everywhere offering themselves with apparently very high arguments?

On the basis of the 'past' or the 'future' [all of them], false guides force us to make war on ourselves - and criticize ourselves - instead of multiplying our energies and going on to explore other worlds.

Following external models is to throw our Pearl before the «swines» (v.6): to throw ourselves at the feet of those who - in order to steal our souls - have no respect, judge us, scold us, and devalue us.

While the little ones live in the present. Unconventional firmness.

[Tuesday 12th wk. in O.T.  June 23, 2026]