21st Sunday in Ordinary Time  (year A)  [23 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (22:19–23)

We are in Jerusalem around 700 BC, during the reign of Hezekiah. The steward of the royal palace, Shebna, holds a very important office: he is entrusted with the ‘keys of the house of David’, a symbol of the authority to control access to the king and to govern in his name. The prophet Isaiah accuses Shebna of two serious offences: 1. He supported an alliance with Egypt against the Assyrian empire, a choice that would have led to grave consequences for the kingdom: the offence, therefore, of giving bad advice. 2. Instead of serving the people, he was primarily concerned with his own prestige and power: the offence of pursuing his own interests. For this reason, Isaiah announces his dismissal and the appointment of Eliakim, described as a true servant of the people. He is entrusted with the keys to the kingdom with the words: ‘If he opens, no one will shut; if he shuts, no one will open.’ From this historical event, the sacred author draws several important messages: 1. God acts within concrete history, and political events too form part of the history of salvation. 2. Nothing escapes God’s plan of salvation, and everything contributes to its fulfilment. 3. In this context, the role of the prophets is to call rulers and those in power to justice and the common good. 4. We must constantly remember that all authority is a service: power exists for the good of the people, not for the personal interest of those who exercise it. 5 We must not forget that when the good of his people is threatened, God intervenes to raise up faithful leaders, for he never abandons his people or his plans for salvation. 

Responsorial Psalm (137/138)

The prayer of the poor rises above the clouds. This short psalm (138 according to the Hebrew numbering, 137 in the Greek) is a prayer of thanksgiving that summarises the entire history of the Covenant between God and Israel. As is often the case in the psalms, the ‘I’ who speaks actually represents the whole people of Israel, chosen by God to know his love and bear witness to it before the nations. The psalm opens with a thanksgiving: ‘I give you thanks, Lord, with all my heart’. In the Greek version, the reason for this praise is specified: God has heard the prayer of his people. This is one of the fundamental convictions of the biblical faith. Ever since the experience of Moses at the burning bush, God has presented himself as the one who sees the suffering of his people, hears their cry and knows their anguish. He is not indifferent to human suffering, but sustains his children so that they may not be overwhelmed by evil. This is why the psalm states that the Lord, though he is most high, looks with care upon the humble. The same teaching is taken up by Ben Sira: ‘The prayer of the poor pierces the clouds’, that is, it reaches God. And Jesus, too, will express the same trust before Lazarus’s tomb: ‘I knew that you always hear me’ (John 11:41–42). This is a universal psalm which, in some parts, lends itself to various possible interpretations due to differences between the Hebrew and Greek texts. The phrase ‘I will sing to you in the presence of the angels’ in the Hebrew text could be translated as ‘before the gods’ (the Elohîm). The two readings are not mutually exclusive: ‘Before the angels’ evokes the heavenly liturgy, in which the heavenly beings continually praise God with the song ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’, as in the vision of the prophet Isaiah (Isaiah 6:3). ‘Before the gods’ is a profession of faith: the God of Israel is the one true God, whilst the idols of the nations have no power whatsoever. A Syriac translation, on the other hand, proposes: ‘I sing to you before the kings’. In this case, Israel’s mission to bear witness to the Lord before all the peoples of the earth comes to the fore. Rather than contradicting one another, the three interpretations complement one another. The psalm sings of God’s love and faithfulness. In the Bible, ‘love and faithfulness’ is a phrase that denotes God’s unshakeable faithfulness to the Covenant. For Israel, remembering God’s love and faithfulness means remembering that the Lord never abandons his people, even when they prove unfaithful. The conclusion is trust in God’s work. Indeed, the psalm ends with a plea: ‘Do not forsake the work of your hands’. This is not a request born of fear, but of trust. The believer knows that God’s love is eternal and that, despite human frailty, the Lord will continue to carry out his plan of salvation. The final message is therefore simple and profound: God always hears the cry of the lowly and the poor; his faithfulness never fails and his work in history continues. For this reason, the believer can praise him with gratitude and entrust themselves to him with complete confidence.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (11:33–36)

This passage concludes Paul’s reflection on the rift within the Jewish people following the emergence of the Christian community. For centuries, the Jews had been certain that they were the people chosen by God to bear witness to the one true God before the world, and his Covenant had been confirmed throughout history. The prophets had recalled this vocation, proclaiming that Israel would be a light to the nations and an instrument of salvation for all peoples. The emergence of Christianity triggered a profound crisis, and a group of Jews arose who recognised Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah. Paul, who was Jewish and became a Christian, experienced this rift first-hand. On the one hand, he adhered to Christ; on the other, he suffered at the sight of the majority of his people rejecting the Gospel. This gave rise to his question: has God perhaps rejected Israel? Has the Covenant been annulled and replaced by a new people? Paul finds an initial answer in the Scriptures: the Covenant, founded on God’s gratuitous love and not on the people’s abilities or merits, cannot be revoked because God is faithful to his promises and cannot deny himself. For this reason, Paul affirms that ‘God’s gifts and his call are irrevocable’ (Rom 11:29). The second reason for hope is the conviction that the relationship between God and Israel – described by the prophets as a spousal love – will be maintained even in times of suffering, which are transformed into opportunities for salvation. A portion of Israel—the so-called ‘faithful remnant’ spoken of by the prophets—has accepted Christ, and Paul is convinced that this process will lead to full salvation: he cannot explain how, but he is certain of it. Having reached this point, Paul offers no further theoretical explanations, but contemplates the mystery of God: ‘Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are  his judgements and his ways beyond our understanding!’  The final message, which draws on words from Isaiah, Job and the wisdom tradition,  is an invitation to Christians to cultivate an attitude of humble trust: God’s plans are beyond human understanding, but his faithfulness is certain. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (16:13–20)

We have reached a decisive moment in the Gospel of Matthew. At Caesarea, Peter  recognises Jesus as the Messiah without Jesus having just performed any extraordinary sign: Peter’s faith springs from an inner revelation. For this reason, Jesus says to him: “Blessed are you, Simon, son of Jonah, for neither flesh nor blood has revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” True faith does not arise from human intelligence, but is a gift from God. And this is what is new about Peter’s confession: it is not the use of individual titles, but their connection. Jesus asks who the ‘Son of Man’ is, and Peter replies that he is the ‘Son of God’. In this way, he recognises that the glorious figure foretold by Daniel is one and the same as the Messiah sent by God. However, Peter does not yet fully understand the mystery of Jesus. He knows that Jesus is the Messiah, but he has not yet realised that he is the Son of God made man. This understanding will mature after the Resurrection and the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Immediately after Peter’s profession of faith, Jesus begins to proclaim openly his Passion, death and Resurrection. The expression ‘from that time on’ indicates that a fundamental milestone in the understanding of his identity has been reached. In Jesus’ time, the expression ‘Son of God’ was essentially equivalent to ‘Messiah’ or ‘King consecrated by God’. The disciples had already used this title after the miracle of walking on water, but at that time they had been struck above all by his power. During his trial before the high priest, Jesus once again combines these two titles, declaring that the Son of Man will come on the clouds of heaven and sit at the right hand of God. Yet it is precisely at that moment that his kingship is revealed, not through force, but through the love with which he entrusts himself into the hands of men. In Caesarea, following his profession of faith, Peter is entrusted with the mission of leading the Church: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church.” The rock does not refer to a personal quality of Peter—who would repeatedly demonstrate his frailties—but to the faith he received from the Father. The foundation of the Church is therefore faith in Jesus Christ. The Church is the new people of God, the “people of the saints of the Most High” foretold by Daniel, united to Christ as the body is to its head. And Peter receives the power of the keys. Jesus adds: “Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” This is the so-called power of the keys, which recalls the symbol of the authority entrusted in the Old Testament to Eliakim. This does not mean that Peter and his successors are omnipotent, but that God undertakes to accompany their mission. The Church has the task of bringing people into communion with the Father and opening up access to the Kingdom for them. The final message is Jesus’ reassuring word: ‘I will build my Church’. It is not the Church that saves itself, nor is it people who build it by their own strength. It is Christ himself, the Risen One, who sustains and guides her. This is why Jesus can promise that the gates of hell shall not prevail against her. The strength of the Church does not depend on the perfection of her members, but on the faithfulness of Christ, the Son of the living God, who continues to build her throughout history.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

From the ancient dream to the embodied relationship

(Jn 1:45-51)

People are convinced by meeting, seeing and experiencing, not by imposing. However, the Eternal plan baffles us.

Witness and sharing lead persons to Christ, but they are not enough - because his plan is not as people imagine or propose, as they await and desires it to be.

To the enthusiastic announcement, Nathanael responds with a preconceived skepticism that represents us: what good can come out of the most insignificant suburbs (v.46)?

Why does not the solution to our expectations come from predictable places [Judaea]?

Personal encounter with Jesus and listening to his Word go beyond every obstacle, up to an explicit and convinced profession of Faith.

And like Nathanael, whoever consecrates his life to the study of the Scriptures finds in them Christ himself (vv.45.48-49).

At first perhaps we too approached the Son of God imagining that he had the attributes of King of a chosen people (v.49).

Then the custom with the Person and the vital experience [«Come and see»: sense of the basic Semitic expression of v.46] showed us a much broader Relationship with Heaven (vv.50-51).

In walking the Way that the unexpected Messiah proposes, we perceive the convergence of God’s movement towards men and our longing for him.

It is the realization (and overcoming) of Jacob’s ancient dream.

Those who pursue preconceptions remain to take the cool under a fig tree (cf.v.48), ie he remains linked to the ancient religion [the rabbis taught the ancient Scriptures sitting under the trees; the fig tree was symbol of Israel].

«Israelite without deceit» (v.47): each one is so when, after sifting, he knows how to get rid of common opinions and teachings; when he realizes that they do not coincide with the Father’s plan.

Salvation history aims at «greater things» (v.50) than those already wanted; normal, expected, invoked, calculated, longed for.

From religiosity we will move on to Faith: the best of God’s Dream in us must come. «Greater things» than clichés.

Jesus is Jacob’s authentic Dream, which heralded to a vast lineage; further unfolded (Gen 28:10-22) and become reality.

But no one would have expected that the Messiah could identify himself with the «Son of Man» (v.51), the One who creates abundance where it is not there, and that before did not seem licit it could expand.

The new bond between God and human beings is in the Brother who becomes ‘next of kin’: which creates an atmosphere of humanization with wide outlines - not at all discriminating.

‘True, successful Son’ is the one who, having reached the maximum of human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it in a widespread way - not selective as expected.

It is the flowering and humanization of the people: the peaceful, true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

«Son of Man» is therefore not a stowed, cautious, controlled and reserved title, but an opportunity for all those who adhere to the Lord’s proposal, and reinterpret life in a creative personal way.

They go beyond the firm boundaries, making room for the Gift; welcoming from the Grace fullness of being, in its new unrepeatable tracks.

[St. Bartholomew, Apostle.  August 24]

From the ancient dream to the incarnate relationship

(Jn 1:45-51)

Today's liturgy presents the first encounter with the Lord of Nathanael, whom some traditions identify as the apostle Bartholomew.

The purpose of the call is to follow Jesus; let us see the concatenation of events. First of all: people are convinced by encountering, seeing and experiencing, not by imposing.

But the plan of the Eternal displaces us. Witnessing and sharing lead to Christ, but they are not enough - because his plan is not what people imagine or propose, what they expect and desire it to be.

To the enthusiastic announcement of Philip [a name of Greek origin], Nathanael [from the Hebrew Netan'El: "God has given"] responds with a preconceived scepticism that represents us: what good can come out of the most insignificant peripheries (v.46)?

How is it that the solution to our expectations does not come from the palaces of power, from the exceptional magnificence of the Holy City, or from the established and selective doctrinal prestige of the observant territory (Judea)?

Nazareth was a negligible village of hotheads and troglodyte Galileans; Jesus a carpenter-carpenter, so he did not even have land.

The expectation of the Messiah was anchored to quite other manifestations of prestige, wealth, pomp and power (substitutes for the authentic experience of relationship and fullness of being).

The personal encounter with Jesus and listening to his Word conquered every obstacle, up to an explicit and convinced profession of Faith.

And like Nathanael, he who consecrates his life to the study of the Scriptures finds Christ in them (vv.45.48-49).

At first perhaps we too approached the Son of God imagining that he had the attributes of King of a chosen people (v.49).

Then the familiarity with the Person and the vital experience ["Come and see": sense of the basic Semitic expression of v.46] showed us a much wider Relationship with Heaven (vv.50-51).

In walking the Way that the unexpected Messiah proposes, we grasp the convergence of God's movement towards mankind and our yearning for Him. It is the realisation (and overcoming) of Jacob's ancient dream.

Those who pursue preconceptions remain to take the cool under the fig tree (cf. v.48), that is, they remain tied to the ancient religion [the rabbis taught the ancient scriptures by sitting under the trees; the fig tree was a symbol of Israel].

By dwelling in expectations of magnificence and allowing ourselves to be carried away by standard intentions of expected glory, we do not enter into the movement that binds our land to Love: we find ourselves growing old, bogged down and barren - unable to generate new creatures and be born again.

"Israelite without deceit" (v.47): each one is when - having sifted - he knows how to discard common opinions and teachings; when he realises that they do not agree with the Father's plan for us.

The history of salvation aims at "greater things" (v.50) than those already desired; normal, foreseen, invoked, calculated and hoped for (transmitted by doctrines and "teachers" such and such).

Even the Design of Providence is not as people imagine or wish it to be. There are situations that no one has ever seen.

"God has given" [meaning of the proper name Nathanael], but each one must be born again.

From Nathanael each believer makes Exodus to transmigrate to the meaning of the name Bartholomew: "Son of the well-ploughed field and of the earth with abundant furrows".

From religiosity we pass to Faith: the best of God's Dream in us is to come. "Greater things" than platitudes.

Jesus is the authentic Dream of Jacob, which foreshadowed a vast descendants; further unfolded (Gen 28:10-22) and become reality.

But no one would have expected that the Messiah could be identified with the "Son of Man" (v.51), the One who creates abundance where there is none - and it did not seem permissible before to expand.

The new bond between God and human beings is in the Brother who becomes the 'next of kin', who creates an atmosphere of humanisation with broad contours - not at all discriminating.

"The 'Son of Man' is the one who, having reached the highest human fullness, comes to reflect the divine condition and radiates it widely - not selectively as expected.

Successful Son: the Person with the definitive step, who in us aspires to the most dilated fullness in events and relationships, to an indestructible carat within each one who approaches [and encounters divine marks].

It is growth and humanisation of the people: the quiet, true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

"Son of Man" is therefore not a religious, guarded, controlled and reserved title, but an opportunity for all those who adhere to the Lord's proposal, and reinterpret life in a personal creative way.

They overcome their own firm and summary boundaries, making room for the Gift; receiving from Grace fullness of being and character, in its new, unrepeatable tracks.Feeling totally and undeservedly friends, we discover other facets... we change the way we are with ourselves, and the way we read history.

In short, we can grow, realise ourselves, blossom, radiate the completeness we have received - without any more closures.

On this Path, every day we perceive the same impulse that brought Nathanael to Jesus: an unparalleled instinct of Presence [Michael: Who like God?], a liberation of the shrunken consciousness [Raphael: God healed - Rescuer], an awe-inspiring unveiling [Gabriel: Strength of God].

In short, on new adventures to be undertaken, the invisible world has a special relationship with humanity and creation.

In soul and in things, we are as it were guided on the right path (in an unceasing, growing, unexpected way) even through our anxieties, rebellions, crises and doubts.

From Son of David to Son of Man

The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces the whole of humanity in his mission of salvation. While Jesus' mission in his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, "to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Mt 15:24), it was nevertheless oriented from the beginning to bring the light of the Gospel to all peoples and to bring all nations into the Kingdom of God. Confronted with the faith of the Centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: "Now I tell you that many will come from the east and the west and sit down at table with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 8:11). This universalistic perspective emerges, among other things, from the presentation Jesus made of himself not only as "Son of David", but as "son of man" (Mk 10:33), as we also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title "Son of Man", in the language of the Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), recalls the person who comes "with the clouds of heaven" (v. 13) and is an image that heralds an entirely new kingdom, a kingdom supported not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus uses this rich and complex expression and refers it to Himself to manifest the true character of His messianism, as a mission destined for the whole man and every man, overcoming all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely in following Jesus, in allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that one enters into this new kingdom, which the Church announces and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion".

[Pope Benedict, address to the Consistory 24 November 2012]

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In the series on the Apostles called by Jesus during his earthly life, today it is the Apostle Bartholomew who attracts our attention. In the ancient lists of the Twelve he always comes before Matthew, whereas the name of the Apostle who precedes him varies; it may be Philip (cf. Mt 10: 3; Mk 3: 18; Lk 6: 14) or Thomas (cf. Acts 1: 13).

His name is clearly a patronymic, since it is formulated with an explicit reference to his father's name. Indeed, it is probably a name with an Aramaic stamp, bar Talmay, which means precisely:  "son of Talmay".

We have no special information about Bartholomew; indeed, his name always and only appears in the lists of the Twelve mentioned above and is therefore never central to any narrative.

However, it has traditionally been identified with Nathanael:  a name that means "God has given".

This Nathanael came from Cana (cf. Jn 21: 2) and he may therefore have witnessed the great "sign" that Jesus worked in that place (cf. Jn 2: 1-11). It is likely that the identification of the two figures stems from the fact that Nathanael is placed in the scene of his calling, recounted in John's Gospel, next to Philip, in other words, the place that Bartholomew occupies in the lists of the Apostles mentioned in the other Gospels.

Philip told this Nathanael that he had found "him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph" (Jn 1: 45). As we know, Nathanael's retort was rather strongly prejudiced:  "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (Jn 1: 46). In its own way, this form of protestation  is  important  for  us.  Indeed, it makes us see that according to Judaic expectations the Messiah could not come from such an obscure village as, precisely, Nazareth (see also Jn 7: 42).

But at the same time Nathanael's protest highlights God's freedom, which baffles our expectations by causing him to be found in the very place where we least expect him. Moreover, we actually know that Jesus was not exclusively "from Nazareth" but was born in Bethlehem (cf. Mt 2: 1; Lk 2: 4) and came ultimately from Heaven, from the Father who is in Heaven.

Nathanael's reaction suggests another thought to us: in our relationship with Jesus we must not be satisfied with words  alone. In  his  answer,  Philip offers Nathanael a meaningful invitation:  "Come and see!" (Jn 1: 46). Our knowledge of Jesus needs above all a first-hand experience: someone else's testimony is of course important, for normally  the  whole  of  our  Christian life begins with the proclamation handed  down  to  us  by  one  or  more  witnesses.

However, we ourselves must then be personally involved in a close and deep relationship with Jesus; in a similar way, when the Samaritans had heard the testimony of their fellow citizen whom Jesus had met at Jacob's well, they wanted to talk to him directly, and after this conversation they told the woman:  "It is no longer because of your words that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is indeed the Saviour of the world" (Jn 4: 42).

Returning to the scene of Nathanael's vocation, the Evangelist tells us that when Jesus sees Nathanael approaching, he exclaims: "Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile!" (Jn 1: 47). This is praise reminiscent of the text of a Psalm: "Blessed is the man... in whose spirit there is no deceit" (32[31]: 2), but provokes the curiosity of Nathanael who answers in amazement:  "How do you know me?" (Jn 1: 48).

Jesus' reply cannot immediately be understood. He says: "Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig  tree,  I  saw  you" (Jn  1: 48).  We  do not know what had happened under this fig tree. It is obvious that it had to do with a decisive moment in Nathanael's life.

His heart is moved by Jesus' words, he feels understood and he understands: "This man knows everything about me, he knows and is familiar with the road of life; I can truly trust this man". And so he answers with a clear and beautiful confession of faith: "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" (Jn 1: 49). In this confession is conveyed a first important step in the journey of attachment to Jesus.

Nathanael's words shed light on a twofold, complementary aspect of Jesus' identity: he is recognized both in his special relationship with God the Father, of whom he is the Only-begotten Son, and in his relationship with the People of Israel, of whom he is the declared King, precisely the description of the awaited Messiah. We must never lose sight of either of these two elements because if we only proclaim Jesus' heavenly dimension, we risk making him an ethereal and evanescent being; and if, on the contrary, we recognize only his concrete place in history, we end by neglecting the divine dimension that properly qualifies him.

We have no precise information about Bartholomew-Nathanael's subsequent apostolic activity. According to information handed down by Eusebius, the fourth-century historian, a certain Pantaenus is supposed to have discovered traces of Bartholomew's presence even in India (cf. Hist. eccl. V, 10, 3).

In later tradition, as from the Middle Ages, the account of his death by flaying became very popular. Only think of the famous scene of the Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel in which Michelangelo painted St Bartholomew, who is holding his own skin in his left hand, on which the artist left his self-portrait.

St Bartholomew's relics are venerated here in Rome in the Church dedicated to him on the Tiber Island, where they are said to have been brought by the German Emperor Otto III in the year 983.

To conclude, we can say that despite the scarcity of information about him, St Bartholomew stands before us to tell us that attachment to Jesus can also be lived and witnessed to without performing sensational deeds. Jesus himself, to whom each one of us is called to dedicate his or her own life and death, is and remains extraordinary.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 4 October 2006]

The first thing Andrew did after meeting Jesus was to seek out his brother Simon and tell him: "We have found the Messiah!". Later Philip, in the same way, sought out Nathanael and told him: "We have found him of whom Moses in the Law and the Prophets wrote, Jesus, the son of Joseph of Nazareth" (cf. Jn 1:35-51).

After the initial discovery, there follows a dialogue through prayer, a dialogue between Jesus and the one who received the call, a dialogue that goes beyond words and expresses itself in love.

Questions are an important part of such a dialogue. For example, in the Gospel account of the disciples' call, we are told that "when Jesus had turned around and seen them following him, he asked them, "What are you looking for?" They answered him, "Rabbi (which means teacher), where do you live?". 'Come and see,' he answered" (Jn 1:38-39).

What begins as a discovery of Jesus leads to greater understanding and dedication through a devoted process of questioning and discernment. In the course of that process, our reasons are purified. We are confronted with burning questions such as, "What are you looking for?" And we even find ourselves asking the questions of Jesus, as Nathanael did: "How do you know me?" (John 1:48). Only after reflecting sincerely and honestly in the silence of our hearts do we begin to convince ourselves that the Lord is really calling us.

Even then, however, the process of discernment is not finished. Jesus says to us what he also said to Nathanael: "You will see greater things than these!" (John 1:50). Throughout the course of life, after we have made a sacred and unchanging promise and begun to actively serve the Lord, we still need the dialogue of prayer that will constantly deepen our knowledge and love for our Lord Jesus Christ.

[Pope John Paul II, Address to American seminarians 13 September 1987]

Francis recalled the story of Nathanael who "goes to see him whom they tell him is the messiah, a little sceptical. To him Jesus says: "I saw you under the fig tree". Therefore, "always God loves first". This is also recalled in the parable of the prodigal son: "When the son, who had spent all the money of his father's inheritance on a life of vices, returns home, he finds that his father is waiting for him. God always waits for us first. Before us, always. And when the other son doesn't want to come to the party, because he doesn't understand daddy's attitude, daddy goes looking for him. And so God does with us: he loves us first, always'.

Thus, the Pope relaunched, "we can see in the Gospel how God loves: when we have something in our heart and we want to ask the Lord for forgiveness, it is he who is waiting for us to give forgiveness".

This year of mercy, Francis affirmed, "is also a bit of this: that we know that the Lord is waiting for us, each one of us" And he is waiting for us "to embrace us, nothing more, to say: 'Son, daughter, I love you. I let them crucify my Son for you; this is the price of my love; this is the gift of love'".

The Pope suggested always thinking of this truth: 'The Lord is waiting for me, the Lord wants me to open the door of my heart, because he is there waiting for me to enter. Without conditions.

Of course, someone might say: "But, Father, no, I would like to, but I have so many bad things inside!". In this regard, Francis' answer is clear: "It's better! Better! Because he waits for you, as you are, not as they tell you 'you must do'. You must be as you are. He loves you like this, to embrace you, kiss you, forgive you'.

Here, then, is the Pope's concluding exhortation to go without delay to the Lord and say: 'But you know Lord that I love you'. Or, if I really "do not feel like it, to say: 'You know Lord that I would like to love you, but I am such a sinner, such a sinner'". With the certainty that he will do as the father did "with the prodigal son who spent all his money on vices. He will not let you finish your speech, with an embrace he will silence you: the embrace of God's love".

[Pope Francis, St Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 09/01/2016]

20th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [16 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (56:1, 6–7)

This passage, attributed to the so-called ‘Third Isaiah’, dates from after the return from the Babylonian exile, between the end of the 6th and the beginning of the 5th century BC. Upon their return to Jerusalem, the Jews found the city occupied by foreigners, some of whom had begun to take part in religious life. A conflict arose: some advocated the strict preservation of their own identity, whilst others favoured greater openness. The prophet, speaking in the name of God, declares that the sincerely devout foreigner must not be excluded; those who love the Lord and honour his covenant may enter the community. Foreigners are integrated if they observe the Sabbath, honour the covenant, practise justice and live according to the Torah. This marks a step towards accepting the idea that salvation is not reserved for Israel alone because, says the Lord, ‘my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.’ Amidst the tension between identity and openness (exclusion and inclusion), the ongoing challenge lies in safeguarding the demands of fidelity to the Covenant with God without closing oneself off from others; a delicate balance that concerns all religions. With Isaiah, a decisive step is taken in Israel towards a more inclusive faith, with foreigners integrated into the Jewish religion, who are called ‘proselytes’. 

Responsorial Psalm (66/67)

The Psalm reflects on God’s blessing, which is a wish for happiness, and on the universal mission of the people of Israel. We are in the midst of a great celebration in the Temple of Jerusalem, whilst the priests bless the people with words taken from the Book of Numbers: ‘May the Lord bless you and keep you; may he make his face shine upon you and grant you peace.’ An important truth emerges here: God does not begin to bless when the priest asks him to, but does so constantly; therefore, when we say ‘May God bless you’, the wish does not concern God, but our own readiness to receive his blessing. God has no other plan than the good of his creatures; therefore, to bless literally means to place his Name upon someone, and since the name denotes the person, to be blessed means to live under God’s protection, to enter into his presence and to allow oneself to be enlightened by his love. The blessing establishes a living relationship with God, to which the faithful always respond ‘Amen’, expressing their consent to receive this divine gift. The blessing is also for all peoples: ‘May the peoples praise you, O God; may all the peoples praise you’; therefore, the chosen and blessed people must become an instrument of God’s blessing for all humanity. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (11:13–15, 29–32)

Saint Paul moves from evangelising the Jews to the Gentiles. Before his conversion on the road to Damascus, Saint Paul divided humanity into two groups: the Jewish people and the Gentiles. After his encounter with the risen Christ, he realised that Israel’s mission was to bring the Messiah to all nations. For this reason, his plan was simple: to proclaim Jesus to the Jews and, through Israel, to bring the Gospel to all nations.  In Antioch of Pisidia, Paul and Barnabas began to preach in the synagogue and were listened to with interest. The following week, some Jews accepted the message; others rejected it with hostility; many Gentiles, however, showed interest. Faced with the rejection of the majority of the Jews, Paul declared: ‘Since you reject the Word of God, we turn to the Gentiles.’ This choice would be repeated in other cities during his missionary journeys. According to Paul, this openness towards the Gentiles arose from the fact that many Jews did not recognise Jesus as the Messiah. Paradoxically, it was precisely this rejection that facilitated the spread of the Gospel amongst the nations. Therefore, Christians who have come from a pagan background must not feel superior to the Jews, because their conversion is linked to the history and mission of Israel. Has God, then, abandoned Israel? This is the central question of Paul’s reflection. His answer is clear: no. God does not revoke his promises, for God’s gifts and calling are irrevocable. The Covenant God made with Israel remains valid for ever, and Paul reaches a very bold conclusion: God allows people to experience their own rejection and their own mistakes, and he knows how to transform even negative situations for the sake of salvation. The Gentiles have received God’s mercy, and Israel, too, will one day recognise that same mercy, for God’s ultimate plan concerns everyone. His Covenant with Israel remains valid, and his mercy is intended for both Jews and Gentiles. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (15:21–28)

The Gospel account of the Canaanite woman’s persistence comes immediately after a teaching by Jesus on ritual purity. In the Jewish world, purity does not mean the absence of sin, but rather the fitness to draw near to God, and the Pharisees attached great importance to the rules of ritual purity in order to be worthy to pray and enter the Temple. Jesus, on the other hand, says that purity is first and foremost a matter of the heart and of intention, and asserts that it is what comes out of the mouth and originates in the heart that defiles a person. For it is from the heart that evil thoughts come… but eating without washing one’s hands does not defile a person (Mt 15:18–20). Immediately after this controversy, Jesus goes into ‘unclean’ pagan territory because the rules of the Torah are not observed there. It is there that a Canaanite woman asks him to heal her daughter, but Jesus pays her no heed, so much so that the disciples intervene to send her away (Lk 11:5–8). However, as she continues to insist, Jesus replies: ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel’ (Mt 15:24). In the history of salvation, the first stage concerns Israel, as Jesus also points out to the apostles: do not go amongst the Gentiles and do not enter the towns of the Samaritans; rather, go to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (Mt 10:5–6).  And this is precisely what Saint Paul did. He turned first to the Jews, and after failing to reach the majority of them, he devoted himself to the Gentiles, as we read in this Sunday’s second reading. Here too, Jesus proclaims that salvation is now for everyone, Jews and Gentiles alike, and the only condition is faith – a trust like that of the Canaanite woman who persists in trusting him. Is faith not, in fact, precisely believing in Jesus, trusting him completely and entrusting oneself to him? Jesus does not ask the Canaanite woman to practise any aspect of the Jewish religion, but only for faith; and his attitude towards her serves as the model for welcoming the Gentiles. The Canaanite woman, ‘persistent’ in her request, becomes the model of faith for us and our communities.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

(Mt 16:13-20)

Over half of his public life, Jesus has not yet given formulas, but He raises a demanding question - which claims to ask us much more than the usual expressions with a legal structure.

The crowd may have approached Him to eminent characters such as the Baptist [the one who proved to be alien to courtiers] or Elijah [for his activity of denouncing idols] or Jeremiah [the opponent of the blessings’ sale].

But He did not come - like ancient prophets - to improve the situation or to regret and mend devotions, nor to purify the Temple, but to replace it!

The images of tradition depict Christ in many ways (for atheists a philanthropist), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, guarantor of conventional behavior.

Instead - to make us reflect - He takes the disciples to a construction site environment [north of Palestine, Caesarea Philippi was under construction], far from the interested nomenclature of the "holy" City.

Common mentality evaluated the life’ success - and the truth of a religion - on the basis of glory, domination, enrichment, and security in general.

The question that Jesus rises his disciples leaks a novelty that supplants the whole system: the Call is addressed to every single person.

It is a border proposal, like the symbolic geographical place of the capital of the reign of Philip, one of the three heir sons of Herod the Great: in Palestine, the farthest point from the center of conformist religiosity.

The Face of the «Son of man» is recognizable only by placing maximum distance from political and veterans schemes - otherwise we too would not be able to perceive His personal ‘light’.

In the community of Mt, an increasingly large participation of pagans was being experienced, who previously felt excluded and gradually integrated.

For our mentality, the house keys are used to close and tighten the door, to prevent the attackers from entering.

In the Semitic one, they were rather an icon of the door’s opening.

In Perugino’s famous masterpiece on the north wall of the Sistine Chapel, Jesus gives the head of the Church two keys: the golden one of Paradise and the silver of Purgatory.

But the meaning of the passage is not the Afterlife - on the contrary, it is not even institutional. In Hebrew the term ‘key’ is derived from the verb ‘to open’!

The greatest missionary task of community leaders is to keep the Kingdom of Heaven wide open, that is, to ensure a welcoming Church!

Peter must not trace the type of arrogant monarch, image of authority; emperor’ substitute.

Simon must take first responsibility for the acceptance of those who are outside.

It seems strange for any ancient proposal, where God was supposed to be afraid of becoming impure in contact with the world.

The Father is the One who dares the most.

This is the reason why Jesus strictly imposes a total messianic silence (v.20) on the lips and the ancient brain of the Apostles.

Peter and the disciples wanted to return to the usual idea of «the» Messiah [cf. Greek text] expected by everyone.

An all too normal canvas, incapable of regenerating us.

[21st Sunday in O.T. (year A), August 23, 2026]

Who Am  I to you, and the Keys to the open community

(Mt 16:13–23)

    More than halfway through his public life, Jesus has not yet offered any set formulas, but poses a challenging question – one that demands far more of us than the usual legalistic expressions.

Broadly speaking, the crowd may have likened him to eminent figures such as John the Baptist (who proved himself to be a stranger to courtly flattery) or Elijah (for his denunciation of idols) or Jeremiah (the opponent of the buying and selling of blessings).

But He did not come – like the ancient prophets – to improve the situation or patch up devotional practices, nor to purify the Temple, but rather to replace it!

Traditional imagery depicts Christ in many ways (to atheists, a philanthropist), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, the guarantor of conventional behaviour.

He, on the other hand – to make us reflect – takes his disciples to a building site (in northern Palestine, Caesarea Philippi was under construction), far from the self-serving rhetoric of the ‘holy’ City.

The common mindset judged the success of life – and the truth of a religion – on the basis of success, dominance, wealth and security in general.

The question Jesus poses to his disciples reveals a novelty that overturns the entire system: the Call is addressed to every single person.

It is a proposal that pushes boundaries, much like the symbolic geographical location of the capital of Philip’s kingdom (one of the three sons and heirs of Herod the Great): in Palestine, the point furthest from the centre of conformist religiosity.

The Face of the ‘Son of Man’ can only be recognised by placing oneself as far as possible from political schemes and the established order – otherwise we too would be unable to perceive his personal light.

In the community described in Matthew, there was indeed an experience of an ever-increasing participation of Gentiles, who had previously felt excluded (and were gradually becoming integrated).

In our way of thinking, house keys serve to lock and bolt the front door, to keep out those with ill intent. In the Semitic mindset, however, they were rather a symbol of opening the door.

In Perugino’s famous masterpiece on the north wall of the Sistine Chapel, Jesus hands the head of the Church two keys: the golden key to Paradise and the silver key to Purgatory.

But the meaning of the passage is not about the afterlife – indeed, it is not even institutional in nature (as the sumptuous architecture of the triumphal arches and the temple in the background of the fresco might suggest).

In Hebrew, the word ‘key’ is derived from the verb ‘to open’!

The primary missionary task of community leaders is to keep the Kingdom of Heaven wide open – that is, to ensure a welcoming Church!

Peter must not embody the archetype of the arrogant monarch, an image of authority (acting as a substitute for the emperor).

Simon must take primary responsibility for welcoming those who are outside.

This seems strange by the standards of any ancient tradition, where it was assumed that God feared becoming defiled through contact with the world.

The Father is the One who dares the most.

Faith is not a safety net (as if it were merely ‘doctrinal belief’) but a loving relationship that does not cloud the mind and enables us to embrace the enriching flow of life.

Creative Providence – all-encompassing and boundless, and today particularly disruptive to every habitual way of life – is the true expression and authentic Revelation of the Mystery.

This is why Jesus strictly imposes total messianic silence [v.20] upon the lips and the traditional mindset of the Apostles.

Peter and the disciples wanted to return to the familiar idea of ‘the’ Messiah [cf. Greek text] awaited by all.

A script that is far too ordinary, incapable of renewing us.

But who do you say that I am? Peter’s Faith

Distancing oneself from what one hopes for

Jesus leads his followers away from the realm of the ideology of power and from the sacred centre of the official religious institution – Judea.

The Lord wants his closest followers to distance themselves from limitations and preconceptions.

The relative success achieved by the Master in Galilee had, in fact, rekindled the apostles’ hopes of (one-sided) glory.

The region of Caesarea Philippi, in the far north of Palestine, was enchanting; renowned for its fertility and lush pastures. An area famous for the beauty of its surroundings and the abundance of its flocks and herds.

Even the disciples were captivated by the landscape and the comfortable lifestyle of the region’s inhabitants; not to mention the magnificence of the palaces.

The reference to the setting alludes to the comforts generally offered by pagan religion; excessive prosperity that enchanted the Twelve.

Christ asks the apostles – in effect – what the people expected of Him. In this way, He wants them to realise the harmful effects of their own preaching.

A ‘proclamation’ that readily conflated material and spiritual blessings.

Whilst the gods demonstrate their ability to shower their devotees with riches – and a lavish court life that (precisely) captivated everyone – what does Christ offer?

The Master realises that the disciples were still heavily influenced by the propaganda of the political and religious authorities [vv. 6, 11], which promised prosperity [vv. 5–12; cf. Mt 15:32–38].

And Jesus instructs them once more, so that at least his emissaries might overcome the blindness and the crisis brought about by his Cross (v. 21), and by the commitment required in the spirit of self-giving.

He is not merely a follower of the Baptist’s uncompromising stance, never inclined to compromise with the courts or opulence; nor is he one of the many restorers of the Law of Moses, with the zeal of Elijah.

Nor did he wish merely to purify religion of spurious elements, but rather to take the place of the Temple [Mt 21:12–17, 18–19, 42; 23:2, 37–39; 24:30] – the place of encounter between the Father and his children.

On this issue, at that time, the rifts were particularly acute, not only with regard to paganism, but also in the conflicts between Jews who had converted to the Lord and those who observed the tradition.

Indeed, the sacred texts of late Judaism spoke of great figures who had left their mark on the history of Israel and were expected to reappear to usher in the messianic age.

Even within the persecuted communities of Galilee and Syria, Matthew notes a lack of understanding and the great difficulty in embracing the new proposal – one which offered no guarantee of success or recognition, nor any immediate rewards.

(From the very first generations, it was realised that Faith does not easily align with our most basic human impulses: indeed, it is disconcerting, given our obvious perspectives and instincts).

Thus the Master contradicts Peter himself [vv. 20, 23], whose view remained tied to the conformist and populist idea of ‘the’ [vv. 16, 20: ‘that’] expected Messiah.

In short, the leader of the apostles – so weak in the Faith – must stop pointing out to Christ which path to take ‘behind’ him [v. 23], leading him astray!

Simon must start afresh as a disciple; he must stop charting out recognised and opportunistic paths for everyone, hijacking God in God’s own name.

The Lord is the One who dares the most.

A special note on the subject of the Name:

Whilst in our culture it is often merely a label, amongst Eastern peoples the name is one and the same as the person, and designates them in a special way.

As can be seen, for example, in the ‘second’ commandment, the power of the Name carries great weight: it is a matter of knowing the (divine) Subject in essence and in the meaning of action; almost a taking hold of His power.

Even in our own tradition of prayer, spirituality and mysticism, the proper Name (e.g. Jesus) has often been regarded as almost an auditory icon of the person, embodying their virtues; evocative of their presence and power.

In ancient cultures, uttering a name meant being able to grasp the seed, the meaningful and all-encompassing core of the figure in question.

Not infrequently, even in our own way of thinking, it has been intended to express an omen, a mandate, a wish, a blessing, a vocation, a destiny, a task, a calling, a mission [nomen (est) omen].

But this is where the difference between a sacred mindset and Faith becomes apparent. In religions, the proper name that the master or founder bestows upon the disciple is a sort of signpost: anyone lacking the insight, fortune, strength or courage to fulfil it would diminish in dignity.

Christ, on the other hand, through his titles, calls us to follow a path – certainly – but one that is deeply commensurate with our essence.

He urges us to set out on a journey – not according to set models – because first He leads the person back into themselves. So that we may all commit ourselves deeply and to the full extent that is required.

First step: to encounter ourselves in our entirety; in our various facets, even the surprising, unexpressed or unknown ones – generally, traits that are unimaginable according to rules and classifications.

Even our eccentric, ambiguous, hidden or even personally rejected ways of being: along the Way, these will reveal the best sides of ourselves.

Only on this multifaceted path do we find the way to an adventure rich in meaning; not mechanical, nor repetitive – but rather like life itself: always new and authentic.

Not starting from superficial appearances or calculated pretences: there is an Author’s signature that precedes us, in the building up of ourselves and of the world.

Passing through the various building sites in the city of Philip, Jesus instead chose to compare Simon to the inert, piled-up materials (even in a rather haphazard manner) that lay before him.

That situation struck at the very root of the apostles’ expectations!

The disciples had not yet made room within themselves for the Mystery, for the idea of a secret salvation that bursts forth with its own innate energy; one that transcends ordinary dreams.

‘Cefa’ is in fact derived from the Aramaic ‘Kefas’: a building stone; something hard: in practical terms, a stubborn man like so many others; nothing special, quite the contrary. Jesus gives Simon a derogatory nickname!

In fact, the Greek term ‘petros’ [v.18] is not a proper name: it refers to a stone (picked up from the ground) which can indeed be useful for building – provided, of course, it is shaped to fit. And which not only supports, but is supported; which not only brings together, but is brought together.

Note: the Greek term ‘petra’ [v.18] is not the feminine form of ‘petros’: it means ‘rock’, and refers to the Person of Christ, our sole security (together with faith in Him).

A name that unpredictably transforms an entire life. For it is only the inner Friend who draws from our [even flawed] baggage the unexpected that wells up.

Each of us is chiselled by the Lord according to the name Peter, in the sense of a unique piece, an individual and special element.

Placed in a singular way yet within a great mosaic: that of the history of salvation, where each of us is simultaneously ourselves and in a constant state of regeneration.

The sole sense of belonging shared by the many building stones (all living): the conviviality of differences, the communion of disparate fraternal members within the ministerial Church.

None of them forever, but everywhere (ceaselessly) pulsating nuclei of a humble institution, entirely gathered from the earth… Freed without cost.