Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [1 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Rereading and meditating on the Beatitudes in Matthew's Gospel is always an invitation to rediscover the heart of the Gospel faith and to have the courage to live it faithfully.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Zephaniah (2:3; 3:12-13)

The Book of Zephaniah is striking for its sharp contrasts: on the one hand, there are terrible threats against Jerusalem, with the prophet appearing very angry; on the other hand, there are encouragements and promises of a happy future, always directed at the city. The question is: to whom are the threats addressed and to whom the encouragement? Historically, we are in the 7th century BC, in the kingdom of Judah, the southern kingdom. The young king Josiah ascends the throne at the age of eight, after the assassination of his father, in very turbulent times. The Assyrian empire, with its capital at Nineveh, is expanding, and local kings often prefer to surrender to avoid destruction: Jerusalem becomes a vassal of Nineveh. The prophets, however, firmly support the freedom of the chosen people: asking for an alliance with an earthly king means not trusting in the King of heaven. Accepting Assyrian protection was not only a political act, but also entailed the cultural and religious influence of the ruler, with the risk of idolatry and the loss of Israel's mission. Zephaniah denounced all this and prophesied punishment: 'I will raise my hand against Judah and against all the inhabitants of Jerusalem... on the day of the Lord's wrath' (Zephaniah 1:4-6), a text reminiscent of the famous Dies Irae. Seek the Lord, all you humble of the land. Alongside the threats, Zephaniah addresses a message of comfort to the "humble of the land" (in Hebrew anawim, the bowed down), who are law-abiding and righteous, and therefore protected from the Day of the Lord's wrath: God himself is with them. It is the day when creation will be renewed and evil destroyed. The message is not for others, but for each one of us: we are all called to conversion, to become "the humble of the land," the "Remnant of Israel" that the previous prophets had announced. God, who is faithful, will always save at least a small group that has remained faithful. It will be this small remnant, poor and humble, that will carry on the mission of the chosen people: to reveal God's plan to the world. Being humble means recognising one's own limitations (humus) and trusting totally in God. Thus, God's judgement is not against people, but against the evil that corrupts. The small faithful remnant will be the leaven in the world, preserving the true identity of the people and the divine mission. God's wrath strikes only evil, never the innocent. Zephaniah also criticises the adoption of Assyrian customs, such as foreign clothing (Zeph 1:8): it was not just fashion, but a sign of imitation of the pagans, a risk of losing identity and faith.

*Responsorial Psalm (145/146)

Here we have three verses from the Psalm as an inventory of the beneficiaries of God's mercy: the oppressed, the hungry, the chained, the blind, the afflicted, the strangers, the widows and the orphans—all those whom men ignore or despise. The Israelites know these situations because they have experienced them: oppression in Egypt, then in Babylon. The Psalm was written after the return from the Babylonian exile, perhaps for the dedication of the rebuilt Temple. Liberation from evil and oppression is perceived as proof of God's faithfulness to the covenant: "The Lord brings justice to the oppressed, the Lord frees those in chains." God also provides for material needs: during the Exodus, he fed the people with manna and quails. Gradually, God reveals himself to the blind, lifts up the afflicted and guides the people towards justice: 'God loves the righteous'. The Psalm is therefore a song of gratitude: "The Lord brings justice to the oppressed / gives bread to the hungry / frees those in chains / opens the eyes of the blind / lifts up those who are afflicted / loves the righteous / protects the stranger / supports widows and orphans. The Lord is your God forever." The insistence on the name Lord (7 times) recalls the sacred Tetragrammaton YHVH, revealed to Moses at the burning bush, symbol of God's constant and liberating presence. "The Lord is your God forever," the final phrase recalls the Covenant: "You shall be my people, and I will be your God." The Psalm looks to the future, strengthening the hope of the people. The name of God Ehiè asher ehiè (I am who I am / I will be who I will be) emphasises his eternal presence. Repeating this Psalm serves to recognise God's work and to guide conduct: if God has acted in this way towards Israel, the people must behave in the same way towards others, especially the excluded. The Law of Israel provided rules to protect widows, orphans, and foreigners, so that the people would be free and respectful of the freedom of others. The prophets judged fidelity to the Covenant mainly on the basis of attitude towards the poor and oppressed: the fight against idolatry, the promotion of justice and mercy, as in Hos 6:6 (I desire mercy, not sacrifice) and Mic 6:8 (Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with God). Sirach also reminds us: 'The tears of the widow flow down the face of God' (Si 35:18), emphasising that those who are close to God must feel compassion for those who suffer.

*Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (1:26-31).

It would seem to be the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector: the world is 'turned upside down'. Those who appear wise in the eyes of men, as Paul points out, are not considered worthy before God. This does not mean that Paul despises wisdom: since the time of King Solomon, it has been a virtue sought after in prayer, and Isaiah presents it as a gift of the Spirit of God: 'The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and discernment...' The Bible distinguishes between two types of wisdom: the wisdom of men and the wisdom of God. What seems reasonable in the eyes of men may be far from God's plan, and what is wise in the eyes of God may appear foolish to men. Our logic is human, God's is the logic of love: the folly of divine love, as Paul says, surpasses all human reasoning. This is why the life and death of Christ may seem scandalous. Isaiah says it clearly: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways" (Is 55:8). This distance between human and divine thought is such that Jesus goes so far as to rebuke Peter: "Get behind me, Satan! You are not thinking according to God, but according to men" (Mt 16:23). God is the "All-Other": the hierarchy of human values is overturned before him. Often in the history of the Covenant, God chooses the least: think of David, the youngest of Jesse's sons, or the people of Israel, "the least of all" (Deut 7:7; Deut 9:6). God's choices are gratuitous, independent of human merit. True wisdom, divine wisdom, is a gift from We cannot understand God with our own strength: everything we know about Him is revealed to us by Him. Paul reminds the Corinthians that all knowledge of God is a gift: "In him you have received every spiritual blessing... you are not lacking in any spiritual gift" (1 Cor 1:4-7). The gift of knowledge of God is not a reason for pride, but for gratitude. As Jeremiah says: "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom... but of having the intelligence to know me, the Lord" (Jer 9:22-23). Paul applies these principles to the Corinthians: in the eyes of the world, they were neither wise, nor powerful, nor noble. Yet God calls them, creating his Church out of their poverty and weakness. Their 'nobility' is Baptism. Corinth becomes an example of God's surprising initiative, recreating the world according to his logic, inviting men not to boast before God, but to give him glory for his love.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (5:1-12a)

 I pause to reflect on the beatitude that may seem most difficult: 'Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted' (Mt 5:4). It is not a question of rejoicing in mourning itself, nor of considering suffering as good fortune. Jesus himself devoted much of his life to comforting, healing and encouraging people: Matthew reminds us that 'Jesus proclaimed the Good News of the Kingdom and healed every disease and infirmity among the people' (Mt 4:23). The tears Jesus speaks of are, rather, tears of repentance and tears of compassion. Think of St Peter, who wept bitterly after his denial, finding consolation in God's mercy. Or remember the vision of the prophet Ezekiel: on the last day, God "will mark with a cross on the forehead those who groan and lament over the abominations that are committed" (Ezekiel 9:4). These words of Jesus were addressed to his Jewish contemporaries, who were accustomed to the preaching of the prophets. For us, understanding them means rereading the Old Testament. As the prophet Zephaniah invites us: 'Seek the Lord, all you humble of the earth' (Zeph 2:3). And the psalm sings: “I have asked one thing of the Lord: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life” (Ps 145/146:5). These are the true “poor in spirit,” those who entrust themselves completely to God, like the tax collector in the parable: aware of their sins, they open themselves to the Lord’s salvation. Jesus assures us that those who seek God with all their heart will be heard: "Seek and you will find; knock and it will be opened to you" (Mt 7:7). And the prophets call those whose hearts are turned solely to God "pure". The Beatitudes, therefore, are Good News: it is not power, knowledge or wealth that leads us to the Kingdom, but gentleness, mercy and justice. As Jesus says to his disciples: " I am sending you out like lambs among wolves” (Lk 10:3). Each beatitude points to a path towards the Kingdom: each “Blessed” is an invitation, an encouragement: it is as if it were saying, “take courage, you are on the right path”. Our weaknesses become fertile ground for God’s presence: poverty of heart, tears, hunger for justice, persecution. Paul reminds us: “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord” (1 Cor 1:31). Finally, let us remember that Jesus is the perfect model: poor in heart, gentle, merciful, compassionate, just and persecuted, always grateful to the Father. His life teaches us to look at ourselves and others through the eyes of God, and to discover the Kingdom where we least expect it.

St Augustine writes in his commentary on this beatitude: "Blessed, says the Lord, are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. He does not refer to bodily sadness, but to the sorrow of the heart for sins and the desire to convert to God" (Enarrationes in Psalmos, 30:5).

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Year A)  [25 January 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! Today marks the end of the week of prayer for Christian unity. The word of God offers food for thought, especially  the second reading  (which recounts the situation of the community in Corinth with divisions due to the presence of various preachers).

The Gospel shows the beginning of Jesus' preaching with his disciples, who will accompany him all the way to Jerusalem.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (8:23b - 9:3)

At the time of Isaiah, the kingdom of Israel was divided into two: the North (Israel, capital Samaria) and the South (Judah, capital Jerusalem), the latter being legitimate as heir to the dynasty of David. Isaiah preaches in Jerusalem but speaks mainly of places in the North, such as Zebulun, Naphtali, Galilee and Transjordan, territories that were conquered by the Assyrian Empire between 732 and 721 BC. The prophet announces that God will transform the situation: the regions that were initially humiliated will be honoured, as a sign of liberation and rebirth. These promises also concern the south, because geographical proximity means that threats to one area weigh on the other, and because the south hopes for future reunification under its own leadership. Isaiah describes the birth of a king, associating his coming with royal coronation formulas: 'A child has been born to us, a son has been given to us' (Isaiah 9:5-6). This is the young Hezekiah, associated with the reign of his father, King Ahaz, and considered the 'prince of peace'. The prophet's certainty is based on God's faithfulness: even in trials and oppression, God will never abandon the dynasty of David. The promised victory recalls that of Gideon over the Midianites: even with few resources, faith in God leads to liberation. The final message is one of hope: do not be afraid, God does not abandon his plan of love for humanity, even in the darkest moments.

*Responsorial Psalm (26/(27)

"The Lord is my light and my salvation" is not just an individual expression: it reflects the invincible trust of the people of Israel in God, in every circumstance of life, from joys to difficulties. The psalm uses concrete images to tell the collective story of Israel, a frequent procedure in the Psalms called clothing: the people are compared to a sick person healed by God, to an innocent person unjustly condemned, to an abandoned child or to a besieged king. Behind these individual images, we recognise specific historical situations: external threats, sieges of cities and internal crises of the kingdom, such as the attack of the Amalekites in the desert, the kings of Samaria and Damascus against Ahaz, or the famous siege of Jerusalem by Sennacherib. The people can react like David, a normal and sinful man, but steadfast in his faith, or like Ahaz, who gives in to panic and loses his trust in God. In any case, the psalm shows that collective faith is nourished by trust in God and the memory of his works. Another key image is that of the Levite, servant of the Temple: just as the Levites serve God daily, so the whole people of Israel is consecrated to the service of the Lord and belongs to him. Finally, the psalm ends with a promise of hope: 'I am sure that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living'; trust is rooted in the memory of God's actions and translates into courage and active hope: 'Hope in the Lord, be strong,  strengthen your heart and hope in the Lord'. This hope is like the "memory of the future," that is, the certainty that God will intervene even in the darkest circumstances. The psalm is therefore very suitable for funeral celebrations, because it reinvigorates the faith and hope of the faithful even in times of sorrow, reminding them that God never abandons His people and always supports those who trust in Him.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (1:10-13, 17)

The port of Corinth, due to its strategic position between two seas and its lively trade, was a true crossroads of cultures, ideas and peoples. This explains why newly converted Christians reacted in different ways to the teachings of preachers: each traveller brought testimonies of the Christian faith according to his own experience, and the Corinthians were very sensitive, perhaps too sensitive, to beautiful words and persuasive arguments. In this context, divisions arose in the community: some referred to Paul, others to Apollos, others to Peter, and finally a group called themselves 'of Christ'. Paul not only condemns wrong behaviour, but sees in this phenomenon the risk of compromising the very meaning of baptism. Apollos, a Jew from Alexandria, is an emblematic example: an intellectual, well-versed in the Scriptures, eloquent and fervent, he was baptised only by John and perfected by Priscilla and Aquila in Ephesus. When he arrived in Corinth, he was very successful, but he never sought to become a personal leader and, in order not to fuel divisions, he then moved to Ephesus. This episode shows how passion and skills should not become a source of division, but should be put at the service of the community. Paul reminds the Corinthians of the truth of baptism: to be baptised means to belong to Christ, not to a human preacher. Baptism is a real and definitive union with Christ, who acts through the sacrament: as the Second Vatican Council says, 'when the priest baptises, it is Christ who baptises'. Paul also emphasises that preaching should not be based on eloquence or persuasive arguments, because the cross of Christ and love are not imposed by the force of words, but are lived and witnessed. The image of grafting clarifies this point well: what is important is the result – union with Christ – not who administered the baptism. What matters is fidelity to the message and love of Christ, not rhetorical skill or personal prestige. Ultimately, Paul's message to the Corinthians is universal and relevant: the unity of the Christian community is based on a common faith in Christ, not on leaders or human eloquence, and the true greatness of the Church lies in its spiritual cohesion, founded on baptism and belonging to Christ.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (4:12-23)

We are in chapter 4 of Matthew's Gospel. In the previous three chapters, Matthew has presented us with: first, a long genealogy that places Jesus in the history of his people, particularly in the lineage of David; then, the angel's announcement to Joseph: "Behold, the Virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and his name shall be called Emmanuel, which means God with us," a quotation from Isaiah, with the clarification that all this happened so that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, emphasising that the promises are finally fulfilled and the Messiah has arrived. The subsequent episodes reiterate this message of fulfilment: the visit of the Magi, the flight into Egypt, the massacre of the children of Bethlehem, the return from Egypt and the settlement in Nazareth, the preaching of John the Baptist, the baptism of Jesus and the Temptations. All these stories are full of biblical quotations and allusions. Now we are ready to listen to today's text, which is also rich in references: from the outset, Matthew quotes Isaiah to show the importance of Jesus' settlement in Capernaum. Capernaum is located in Galilee, on the shores of Lake Tiberias. Matthew specifies that it belongs to the territories of Zebulun and Naphtali: ancient names, no longer in common use, linked to Isaiah's promise that these once-humiliated lands would be illuminated by the glory of Galilee, 'the crossroads of the Gentiles' (Isaiah 8:23). The prophet continues: "The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light," a formula reminiscent of the sacred ritual of the coronation of a king, symbolising a new era. Matthew applies these words to the arrival of Jesus: the true King of the world has come; light has dawned on Israel and on humanity. Galilee, the crossroads of nations, becomes an open door to the world, from which the Messiah will spread salvation. Furthermore, Matthew already foreshadows future events: Jesus heads for Galilee after the arrest of John the Baptist, showing that Christ's life will be marked by persecution, but also by the final victory over evil: from every obstacle, God will bring forth good. Upon arriving in Capernaum, Matthew uses the expression "From then on," which is unique in the Gospel along with another in chapter 16, signalling a major turning point. Here it indicates the beginning of public preaching: "Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near." The other reference in chapter 16 will concern the passion and resurrection. This episode marks the transition from the time of promise to the time of fulfilment. The Kingdom is present, not only in words but in action: "Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the gospel of the Kingdom and healing every kind of disease and infirmity among the people." Isaiah's prophecy is fully realised: the Kingdom of God is among us. To spread this Good News, Jesus chooses witnesses, ordinary men, to join him in his mission of salvation. He calls them "fishers of men", that is, those who save from drowning, a symbol of their task of salvation. Thus the apostles become participants in the Saviour's mission.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Turnover in the Church, antidote to unilaterality

(Mt 5:1-12)

We feel ephemeral and often disappointed, yet we want to be happy, not just here and there: we are uncertain, yet we seek full and lasting joy.

Of course we can only find it in a disconcerting proposal.

In the Gospel of Mt Jesus is the new Moses who rises on «the Mount». But the young Legislator does not proclaim norms on a stone code, but his own experience of the Father... «by seeing the crowds» (v.1).

At the crossroads between divine condition and fullness of humanization, the new Rabbi outlines a sort of his Self-Portrait: as a Son; in favor of his brothers. Gathered in Family spirit.

A sprout of hospitable world - which in its small churches Mt wants to encourage. Where there is no man above and little ones always below; or the character in front and the others behind.

Only humanizing upheavals [such as the reversal of roles and conditions] that strengthen the concordant tissue.

So in the House of All there will have to be a replacement and reversal of figures, of situations and criteria of eminence, therefore chains of command - signs of the Coming Kingdom. 

Overturning capable of sharpening the sensitivities to Communion [at that time there was lively friction between Judaizing experts, first in the class, and the last arrived at threshold of faith’s fraternities].

On «the Mount» is announced the discreet work of the Spirit, which designates the character of a modest holiness, animated by gift’s Love, in itself divinizing and humanizing [quality that is manifested in the so-called "poor in Spirit"].

In fact, the authentic disciple reaches tears: they express the dimension of intimate energy that purifies external ideas; it makes us true from within, and essential on the outside.

Affliction drives to return into ourselves; it re-proposes the contact with our land and the virtues that regenerate.

Sadness that in the condition of finitude and conscious limit, makes us empathetic, splendidly human.

Deeply dissatisfied: opponents of injustices. Because every person who is not placed in the position of being able to express his abilities is an insult to the Salvation Design.

In fact, in each excluded person hides an Artist who is not allowed to express himself, who is neither discovered nor valued in favor of himself and others; rather, considered extraneous or deviant.

The Spirit of Christ is spontaneously identified not with the usual aggressive energy of the feral animals, of those who prevail because more astute and strong.

We are women and men characterized by heart of flesh - not of beast (Dan 7).

The Beatitudes - the new Decalogue of «the Mount» - allude precisely to a sort of divine condition embodied and transmissible to anyone, pacified and creative like love, therefore all to be discovered.

This is not a proposal that pushes back eccentricities: on the contrary, very nice and lovable, inclusive.

That of the Blessed is therefore the condition that makes us Unique - not sanctity regulated by procedures, which is always there to abhor the danger of the unusual.

Nor does it exclude our right to do something great... but it does not identify it with having, power, appearing.

There is no "race" to be won. And the Lord makes us reflect on the authentic realization: it’s not an outward conquest.

Blessed is the trait and outcome of the true and full development of the divine project on humanity - paradoxical in character.

The Lord is pleased with those who undertake this orientation, where his feelings become deeply ours.

Blood relatives; already here and now able to experience the blissful life of Heaven: being with and for others, being ourselves.

[4th Sunday in O.T. (year A)  February 1st, 2026]

Turnover in the Church, an antidote to unilateralism

(Mt 5:1-12)

In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus is the new Moses who climbs "the Mountain." But the young Lawgiver does not proclaim rules on a stone code, but rather his own experience of the Father... "seeing the crowds" (v. 1).

At the crossroads between divine condition and fullness of humanisation, the new Rabbi outlines a sort of self-portrait: as Son; in favour of his brothers. Gathered together in a spirit of family.

A sprout of a hospitable world - which Matthew wants to encourage in his small churches. Where there is no one above and no one below; no one in front and no one behind.

Only humanising upheavals [such as the reversal of roles and conditions] that strengthen the fabric of harmony.

Therefore, in the House of all, there must be a change and reversal of figures, situations and criteria of eminence, and therefore chains of command - signs of the Kingdom to Come. 

A reversal capable of heightening sensitivity to Communion [at that time, there was lively friction between Jewish experts, top of the class, and newcomers to the fraternal community of faith].

At that time, the mentality of precedence and supremacy was so deeply rooted that all religions recognised hierarchies.

Those who considered themselves entitled to precedence [in the community!] always raised a question of apparent obviousness:

Is it not in the natural order of things that in human society there are first and last, learned and ignorant, sovereigns and subjects?

After all, the legal principle that once governed, for example, all private property rights in the Latin world is also the motto of a well-known official Catholic newspaper: Unicuique Suum.

Even Leo XIII, the pope of social encyclicals, recognised that 'in human society, it is according to the order established by God that there are princes and subjects, masters and proletarians, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, nobles and plebeians; the obligation of charity on the part of the rich and the wealthy is to provide for the poor and the needy'.

It was the mentality of a sin of simple omission: it is enough to do charity.

The Lord's position is very, very different: the powerful are not at all blessed by God - as the rich patriarchs of the First Testament were also supposed to be.

Their alien world, their palaces, and even their refined clothing, are a perfect metaphor for the inner emptiness and transience in which they revel.

Their gluttony is a sign of an inner abyss to be filled - a kind of nervous hunger that causes vertigo.

And so it goes, from alienation to alienation.

On 'the Mount', on the other hand, the discreet work of the Spirit is announced, which designates the character of a modest holiness, animated by the Love of gift, in itself deifying and humanising [a quality that manifests itself in the so-called 'poor in Spirit'].

Holiness that surpasses the ancient fiction of the rulers, who overlapped each other reciting the same script.

Until now, in fact, the masses remained empty-handed: whoever the ruler who seized power, the small flock remained submissive, sad and suffocated; unworthy even of presenting themselves before the Lord.

All condemned and inadequate.

Even the people of the disciples are heartbroken because they do not accept the inequalities of a pyramidal society, which tends to level and destroy the gifts of God spread throughout humanity - of any social class.

The authentic disciple is moved to tears: they express the dimension of intimate energy that purifies external ideas; making us true on the inside and essential on the outside.

Affliction guides us to return to ourselves; it re-establishes contact with our earth and the primordial virtues that regenerate us.

Sadness that, in the condition of finitude and conscious limitation, makes us empathetic, splendidly human.

Intimately dissatisfied: opponents of injustice. Because every person who is not placed in a position to express their abilities is an insult to the Plan of Salvation.

This is not about charity or philanthropy: it is a precise, social choice (v.5).

In fact, hidden within each outcast is an artist who is not allowed to express themselves, who is not discovered or valued for their own sake or that of others; rather, they are considered an outsider or a deviant.

Annalena Tonelli spoke of the least among us, whose pain she wished to alleviate, as 'murdered Mozarts': she wanted to recover them and involve them, to enrich each other. She had a mother's heart and compassion for the misery of her abandoned brothers and sisters.

The same severity prevailed in religions, whose leaders instilled in the people a strong and vulgar nationalist impulse and the consolation of the herd.

In the Kingdom of Jesus, however, there must be no ranks, which is why the plans of the ambitious and infallible do not coincide with his.

The Spirit of Christ spontaneously identifies not with the usual aggressive energy of wild beasts, of those who prevail because they are more cunning and stronger, but with the person who makes himself available.

We are women and men characterised by hearts of flesh, not of beasts (Dan 7).

The Beatitudes - the new Decalogue of 'the Mountain' - allude precisely to a sort of divine condition incarnate and transmissible to anyone, peaceful and creative like love, and therefore waiting to be discovered.

Blessed is the trait and outcome of the true and full development of the divine plan for humanity.

In the Gospels, this character is not hindered by those who frequent places of ill repute, but paradoxically by the regulars of sacred enclosures.

According to Jesus, purity of heart is not linked to external legal purity - as was believed in all devotions - but to a purified gaze and a lack of duplicity. 

The growth and humanisation of the people is therefore not opposed by sinners, but precisely by those who have the ministry of making the Face of God known to all!

In short, the burden of preconceptions with which they approach reality and relationships does not allow the established and fixed authorities to recognise the Lord's calls in the facts of life and Nature itself.

The same is true of peacemakers.

They work for the complete reconstruction of Life and Fraternity, of naturalness itself and of equitable coexistence.

All this is done in a spirit of selflessness that integrates selfishness by recognising the poor 'We' that expands throughout the world.

The self-portrait of Jesus as revealed in the Beatitudes of Matthew embraces the icon of a young boy - who at that time counted for nothing.

The Lord recognises himself in a household servant, a shop assistant, who nevertheless has a mysterious and pleasant divine spark within him.

It is the only identification that Jesus loves and desires to give us: that of one who cannot afford not to recognise the needs of others.

A dimension of sacredness without distinctive halos: not cynical, but shareable. Because it is linked to perception and instinctive reciprocity, to spontaneous friendship towards women and men - experienced in the likeness of the Father.

Obviously, this is not a proposal compromised by the usual inexorable routine [doctrine and discipline] that pushes eccentricities back: on the contrary, it is very sympathetic and lovable, inclusive.

The Blessed One's condition is therefore the one that makes us Unique - not the holiness regulated by procedures, which always abhors and exorcises the danger of the unusual.

Precisely for this reason, however, the fixation on antecedents has characterised the life of the Church for centuries, as has the feudal and monarchical idol of stability for life.

The Master does not exclude our right to do something great... but he does not identify it with having, power, or appearance.

For a path of Bliss and Divinisation, the Master does not excite the impulses of holding back, climbing, dominating: they do not give Happiness.

Rather, he counts on our spontaneous freedom to give, descend and serve - a franchise entrusted first and foremost to the top of the class. Those who throughout history have become accustomed to overwhelming others with moralism and cunning.

God does not deny the legitimate impulses of the ego to be recognised. We do not participate in life as if we were destined to fail, but as if we were promoted - those who do not suppress their own requirements.

But not in order to win 'the race'. In this way, the Lord makes us reflect on authentic fulfilment.

It is not an external conquest, but an intimate one that we make our own. It is thus able to sculpt our deepest inclinations, in its richness of faces and in the time of a Journey.

Aristotle stated that - beyond artificial begging the question or apparent proclamations - we truly love only ourselves. This is no small question mark.

Admittedly, the growth, promotion and flowering of our qualities lies within a wise Way.

A path that is even interrupted, but which knows how to allow itself the right pace - also to encounter new states of being.

Genuine and mature love expands the boundaries of the ego that loves primacy, visibility and gain. It integrates it with primordial, dormant energies that we have not given space to - understanding the You in the I.

A path and a vector that then expands our abilities and our lives. Otherwise, in every circumstance and, unfortunately, at any age, we will remain in the childish game of those who elbow their way up the steps to prevail.

As Pope Francis said about mafia phenomena: 'We need men and women of love, not honour!'.

The Tao Tê Ching (XL) writes: 'Weakness is what the Tao uses'. And Master Wang Pi comments: 'The high has the low as its foundation, the noble has the base as its foundation'.

We feel ephemeral and often disappointed, yet we want to be happy, not just here and there: we are uncertain, yet we seek full and lasting joy. Obviously, we can only find it in a disconcerting proposal.

In ancient times, it was thought that God could be encountered in the intoxicating emotions generated by successful experiences, typical of successful men. But the persecuted and crucified Son challenges this outward appearance.

Other decisive encounters were considered to be those on the peaks of evocative heights, or devout and paroxysmal self-sacrifice within the sacred enclosures that Jesus intended to dismantle, forcing the people to leave them [Jn 10:1-16 Greek text].

Luther interprets the Son of God on the Mount as 'Mosissimus Moses'. However, Matthew speaks of 'the Mount' - not a platform - as the figure and context of an eternal Appeal, not only intended for members of the most equipped institutes of perfection who are able to climb.

In concrete terms, these are the moments when we ourselves, incorporated into the human completeness of Christ, feel the fullness of being: like the passing of the soul bride in her sacred centre, and a special harmony of ideas, words and actions between our nature and the divine.

'The Mountain' is the (theological) place where we abandon the cunning, conformist thoughts, knowledge and calculations of the worldly plain. Where the assumptions of fleeting, joyful happiness [the kind that lasts a minute or an hour] are levelled out.

Therefore, blessed are the poor 'in spirit' - or 'by the Spirit' - says Jesus [v.3a Greek text].

In the Christian community, it is important (precisely) to enrich together.

The Lord is pleased with those who take this approach, where his feelings become deeply ours - and it is not the details that are important, but the direction of travel.

The particular details of the life of love are left to personal creativity and the variety of people, sensibilities, cultures and situations. 

What counts is the fundamental choice for goodness and communion, understood not as uniformity but as conviviality of differences.

This is not to hysterically despise wealth: it is a matter of exchanging it so that it multiplies, avoiding keeping it for oneself. Otherwise, everything becomes an insurmountable obstacle to life and the preserve of the quickest.

Those who have freely expropriated the superfluous in order to share it do so 'for the Spirit', that is, for Love: by free choice, with passion and without distinction between beneficiaries within and outside their circle.

Thus, the enriched become lords.

In turn, the miserable may not be poor 'in Spirit' if they are full of themselves, boastful, arrogant, uninterested in others; if they lack openness of heart, are strangers to dialogue, intent on improving their condition through compromise and deception - only desiring to replace the rich and then imitate their deceitful, subjugating and opportunistic ways.

The voluntary renunciation of the selfish and mediocre use of our material and intellectual resources distinguishes us as children of God.

We are blood relatives; already here and now able to experience the blessed life of Heaven: being with and for others, while being ourselves.

In fact, the promise that accompanies the first Beatitude (v.3a) does not guarantee access to Paradise in the afterlife, in some distant future.

The exchange of gifts guarantees the experience of divine life itself, right here on earth.

In pagan religions, the condition of Blessed Life was a jealous and exclusive characteristic of the gods, who reluctantly shared it; and reassuringly, only after death. However, only halfway.

In Christ and through the Way, despite partial failures, or our possible limited abilities and natural fragility - indeed, because of them - we discover a Father who is a friend of full, intense Joy: immediate, energetic, limitless Happiness. Which arises even from unstable states.

The Father is not the God of religions that cloud and trouble life: he does not bless the greed of the few, which makes the multitudes needy.

Did the last of the commandments require us to feel satisfied and not desire the possessions of others?

The first of the Beatitudes proposes that we desire that others also have the same things and opportunities in life as we do.

The dynamic of falling in love, in all its forms, presupposes a vibrant Fullness that flows everywhere - recognising the opposites in ourselves and the legitimate desire for expressive fulfilment in our brothers and sisters.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you overcome doubt, by retreating? What do you proclaim with your life? Does it go beyond direct experience? Do you know of realities that manifest the Risen One? How do you point to paths overflowing with hope? Or are you selective and silent?

They let the Light pass through

All the Saints, between religious sentiment and Faith

    Embodying the spirit of the Beatitudes, we ask ourselves what is the difference between common 'religious sentiment' and 'living by Faith'.

In ancient devotions, the Saint is the composed, perfect and detached [but predictable] man; and the opposite of Saint is 'sinner'.

In the proposal of a life full of the Lord, the 'saint' is a person of communicative understanding who lives for conviviality, creating it where it does not exist.

On the path of children, the saint is indeed the excellent man, but in his fullest sense - complete and dynamic, multifaceted; even eccentric. Not in a unilateral, moralistic or sentimental sense.

In Latin, perfìcere means to bring to completion, to go all the way.

In this complete and integral sense, 'perfect' becomes an authentic embodied value: a possible attribute of every person who is aware of their own vulnerability and does not despise it.

Women and men of faith value every opportunity or emotion that lays bare their nakedness [not guilt] in order to open new paths and renew themselves.

From the perspective of life in the Spirit, the saint [in Hebrew Qadosh, divine attribute] is indeed the 'detached' person, but not in a partial or physical sense, rather in an ideal sense.

It is not the person who at some point in life distances themselves from the human family to embark on a path of purification that would elevate them. Deluding themselves into thinking they are improving.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises: 'A human being [...] does not realise, develop, find fulfilment [... and] come to a full recognition of his or her own truth except in encounter with others' (n.87).

The authentic witness is not motivated by contempt for existential chaos - nor is he eager to outsource the difficulties of managing his own freedom by handing it over to an alienating agency with a detached mentality (which resolves the drama of personal choices).

In Christ, man is "disconnected" from the common mentality, in that he is faithful to himself, to his own Fire that never goes out - to his passions, to his own unrepeatable uniqueness and Vocation.

And at the same time, he is "separated" from external competitive criteria: of having, of power, of appearing. Self-destructive powers.

He concretely replaces these with the fraternity of giving, serving and diminishing oneself [from the 'character']. Fruitful energies.

Everything for global Communion, and in Truth even with one's own intimate character seed - avoiding proselytism and showing off on the catwalk.

The true believer knows his redeemed limit, sees the possibilities of imperfection... Thus, he replaces the assumptions of holding back for himself, of climbing over others and dominating them, with a fundamental humanising triptych: giving, freedom to 'come down', collaborating.

This is authentic Detachment, which does not flee from one's own and others' inclinations, nor despise the complex nature of the human condition.

In this way, the 'saint' experiences the essential Beatitude of the persecuted (Mt 5:11-12; Lk 6:22-23) because he has the freedom to 'lower himself' in order to be in tune with his own essence, coexisting in his originality.

In terms of Faith, the Saint is therefore no longer physically "separated", but "United" with Christ - and banished like Him, in the weak brothers and sisters.

In short, the divine plan is to compose a Family of the small and infirm, not to carve out a group of "strong" friends who are "better" than others.

Only this horizon of the Focolare moves us to set out.

Consequently, the opposite of a saint is not a 'sinner', but rather someone who is unrealised or unfinished.

Let us look again at the reason for this (vocational and personal paths).

Jesus was a friend of tax collectors and public sinners not because they were better than the good, but because in religion the 'righteous' are often not very spontaneous; making themselves impervious, closed, resistant to the action of the Spirit.

Surprisingly, the Lord himself repeatedly experienced that it was precisely those who were devoutly lacking who were inclined to question, notice, rework, deviate from habit - in order to build new paths, even if proceeding by trial and error.

Unable to enjoy the respectable cloak of social screens, after becoming aware of their situation (and over time) - compared to those who considered themselves 'successful' and friends of God - from being 'distant' they became people more 'impeccable' and willing to love.

Questioning oneself is fundamental from a biblical perspective.

At every turn, Scripture offers us a spirituality of Exodus, that is, a path of liberation from shackles, travelled on foot, step by step. Therefore, it values paths of research, exploration, discovery of oneself and of the Newness of a God who does not repeat, but creates.

The appeal that the Word makes is to embark on a journey; this is the point. And we have always been 'those of the Way' who do not pass by, who do not look the other way [cf. Lk 10:31-33; FT, 56ff].

According to the classical pagan mentality, women and men are essentially 'nature', so their being in the world is conditioned [I remember that my professor of theological anthropology, Ignazio Sanna, even said 'de-centred'], even determined by birth (fortunate or otherwise).

According to the Bible, women and men are creatures, splendid and adequate in themselves for their mission, but pilgrims and lacking.

God is the One who 'calls' them to complete themselves, recovering their dissimilar aspects.

In order to become the image and likeness of the Lord, we must develop the ability to respond to a Vocation that makes us neither phenomena nor 'perfect' exceptions, but rather special Witnesses.

Chosen by Name, just as we are; embracing our deepest being - even if unexpressed - to the point of recognising it in You, and unfolding it in Us.

A person's holiness is therefore combined with many of their states of dissatisfaction, of limitation, and even of partial failure - but always thinking and feeling reality.

For a New Covenant.

In the Old Testament, believers came into contact with divine purity by frequenting sacred places, fulfilling prescriptions, reciting prayers, respecting times and spaces, avoiding embarrassing situations, and so on.

Our experience and conscience attest infallibly that strict observance is too rare, or mannered: inside, it often does not correspond to us - nor does it humanise us.

Sooner or later, it becomes a house of cards, all the more unstable the higher it points. It is enough to arrange a single card clumsily, and the artificial construction collapses.

We realise our natural inability to satisfy sterilisation, maps (of others) and such high standards.

With Jesus, Perfection does not concern 'thought' or compliance with an abstract Code of Observance. Fulfilment refers to a quality of Exodus and Relationship.

In ancient contexts, the path of children was cloaked in a mystical or renouncing proposal made up of abstinence, fasting, retreats, secluded life, obsessive cultic fulfilments... which in many situations constituted the backbone of pre-Conciliar spirituality.

But in Scripture, the saints do not have halos or wings.

They are not saints because they performed incomparable and amazing miracles of healing: rather, they are women and men who were part of the ordinary world and its most common aspects. 

They know the problems, weaknesses, joys and sorrows of everyday life; the search for their own identity, character or deep inclination.

And the apostolate; family, the education of children, work. Even the seductive power of evil.

In the First Testament, 'Qadosh' referred exclusively to an attribute of the Eternal One [the only unchanging Person] - and his separateness from the often confused web of earthly ambitions.

Despite our flaws, however, in Christ we become capable of listening, of perception; thus enabled to seize every opportunity to bear witness to the innate, vital gratuitousness of the divine and real initiative.

Providential life incessantly proposes itself and comes to meet us to open up unthinkable passages that break through.

Its unprecedented paths of growth renew our entire chained and conformist existence.

This also amazes us with our inner resources, previously unknown or unacknowledged and unspoken, or unpredictably hidden behind dark sides.

What is Distinguished is no longer hidden behind clouds and placed in secure enclosures.

Therefore, God's adversary will not be transgression: on the contrary, it becomes the lack of a spirit of Communion in differences.

The enemy of the history of Salvation is not religious incompleteness, but the gap between the Beatitudes - and the spirit in fieri of the 'wayfarer' for whom 'pilgrimage' is also synonymous [not paradoxically] with 'wandering'.

The opposite of God is therefore not 'sins', but 'Sin' [in the singular, a theological term, not a moralistic one].

'Sin' is the inability to respond to an indicative Call, which acts as a springboard to complete us, to regenerate us in a non-partial way. This harmonises the opposite sides - in being ourselves and being-With.

Here it is Faith that 'saves' us, at the point where we find ourselves - because it destroys 'the sin of the world' (Jn 1:29), that is, self-contempt and guilt; the humiliation of unbridgeable distances.

In fact, Jesus does not recommend doctrines, nor does he recommend fragmenting one's life with occasional drunkenness. Nor does he propose any religious ascent [in terms of progressiveness] seasoned with effort.

Nowhere in the Gospels does Christ say to anyone, 'become holy', but rather with Him, like Him and in Him - united, to encounter one's own deepest states incessantly.

Recognising them better, thanks also to You and Us.

The saint is the little one, not the hero who is all of a piece, uniform, predictable, taken for granted.

A saint is someone who, walking his own path in the wake of the Risen One, has learned to 'identify with the other, without paying attention to where [or] where from [...] ultimately experiencing that others are his own flesh' (cf. FT 84).

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

On this Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time, the Gospel presents the first great discourse that the Lord addresses to the people on the gentle hills encircling the Sea of Galilee. “Seeing the crowds,” St Matthew writes, “he went up on the mountain, and when he sat down his disciples came to him. And he opened his mouth and taught them” (Mt 5:1-2). 

Jesus, the new Moses, “takes his seat on the cathedra of the mountain” (Jesus of Nazareth, Doubleday, New York 2007, p. 65) and proclaims “blessed” the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the merciful, those who hunger for righteousness, the pure in heart, the persecuted (cf. Mt 5:3-10). It is not a new ideology, but a teaching that comes from on high and touches the human condition, the condition that the Lord, in becoming flesh, wished to assume in order to save it. 

Therefore “the Sermon on the Mount is addressed to the entire world, the entire present and future, and yet it demands discipleship and can be understood and lived out only by following Jesus and accompanying him on his journey” (Jesus of Nazareth, p. 69). 

The Beatitudes are a new programme of life, to free oneself from the false values of the world and to open oneself to the true goods, present and future. Indeed, when God comforts, he satisfies the hunger for righteousness, he wipes away the tears of those who mourn, which means that, as well as compensating each one in a practical way, he opens the Kingdom of Heaven. “The Beatitudes are the transposition of the Cross and Resurrection into discipleship” (ibid., p. 74). They mirror the life of the Son of God who let himself even be persecuted and despised until he was condemned to death so that salvation might be given to men and women.

An ancient hermit says: “The Beatitudes are gifts of God and we must say a great ‘thank you’ to him for them and for the rewards that derive from them, namely the Kingdom of God in the century to come and consolation here; the fullness of every good and mercy on God’s part … once we have become images of Christ on earth” (Peter of Damascus, In Filocalia, Vol. 3, Turin 1985, p. 79). 

The Gospel of the Beatitudes is commented on with the actual history of the Church, the history of Christian holiness, because, as St Paul writes, “God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong, God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are” (1 Cor 1:27-28). 

For this reason the Church has no fear of poverty, contempt or persecution in a society which is often attracted by material well-being and worldly power. St Augustine reminds us that “it serves nothing to suffer these evils, but rather to bear them in the Name of Jesus, not only with a serene soul but also with joy” (cf. De sermone Domini in monte, i, 5,13: ccl 35, 13).

Dear brothers and sisters, let us invoke the Virgin Mary, the Blessed par excellence, asking her for the strength to seek the Lord (cf. Zeph 2:3) and to follow him always, with joy, on the path of the Beatitudes.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 30 January 2011]

3. “Blessed are you!”, he says, “all you who are poor in spirit, gentle and merciful, you who mourn, who care for what is right, who are pure in heart, who make peace, you who are persecuted! Blessed are you!” But the words of Jesus may seem strange. It is strange that Jesus exalts those whom the world generally regards as weak. He says to them, “Blessed are you who seem to be losers, because you are the true winners: the kingdom of heaven is yours!” Spoken by him who is “gentle and humble in heart” (Mt 11:29), these words present a challenge which demands a deep and abiding metanoia of the spirit, a great change of heart. 

You young people will understand why this change of heart is necessary! Because you are aware of another voice within you and all around you, a contradictory voice. It is a voice which says, “Blessed are the proud and violent, those who prosper at any cost, who are unscrupulous, pitiless, devious, who make war not peace, and persecute those who stand in their way”. And this voice seems to make sense in a world where the violent often triumph and the devious seem to succeed. “Yes”, says the voice of evil, “they are the ones who win. Happy are they!”

4. Jesus offers a very different message. Not far from this very place Jesus called his first disciples, as he calls you now. His call has always demanded a choice between the two voices competing for your hearts even now on this hill, the choice between good and evil, between life and death. Which voice will the young people of the twenty-first century choose to follow? To put your faith in Jesus means choosing to believe what he says, no matter how strange it may seem, and choosing to reject the claims of evil, no matter how sensible or attractive they may seem. 

In the end, Jesus does not merely speak the Beatitudes. He lives the Beatitudes. He is the Beatitudes. Looking at him you will see what it means to be poor in spirit, gentle and merciful, to mourn, to care for what is right, to be pure in heart, to make peace, to be persecuted. This is why he has the right to say, “Come, follow me!” He does not say simply, “Do what I say”. He says, “Come, follow me!” 

You hear his voice on this hill, and you believe what he says. But like the first disciples at the Sea of Galilee, you must leave your boats and nets behind, and that is never easy – especially when you face an uncertain future and are tempted to lose faith in your Christian heritage. To be good Christians may seem beyond your strength in today’s world. But Jesus does not stand by and leave you alone to face the challenge. He is always with you to transform your weakness into strength. Trust him when he says: “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9)! 

5. The disciples spent time with the Lord. They came to know and love him deeply. They discovered the meaning of what the Apostle Peter once said to Jesus: “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (Jn 6:68). They discovered that the words of eternal life are the words of Sinai and the words of the Beatitudes. And this is the message which they spread everywhere.

At the moment of his Ascension Jesus gave his disciples a mission and this reassurance: “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations . . . and behold I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Mt 28:18-20). For two thousand years Christ’s followers have carried out this mission. Now, at the dawn of the Third Millennium, it is your turn. It is your turn to go out into the world to preach the message of the Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes. When God speaks, he speaks of things which have the greatest importance for each person, for the people of the twenty-first century no less than those of the first century. The Ten Commandments and the Beatitudes speak of truth and goodness, of grace and freedom: of all that is necessary to enter into Christ’s Kingdom. Now it is your turn to be courageous apostles of that Kingdom!

Young people of the Holy Land, Young people of the world: answer the Lord with a heart that is willing and open! Willing and open, like the heart of the greatest daughter of Galilee, Mary, the Mother of Jesus. How did she respond? She said: “I am the servant of the Lord, let it be done to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38). 

O Lord Jesus Christ, in this place that you knew and loved so well, listen to these generous young hearts! Continue to teach these young people the truth of the Commandments and the Beatitudes! Make them joyful witnesses to your truth and convinced apostles of your Kingdom! Be with them always, especially when following you and the Gospel becomes difficult and demanding! You will be their strength; you will be their victory!

O Lord Jesus, you have made these young people your friends: keep them for ever close to you! Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, homily to young people, Mount of Beatitudes, 24 March 2000]

This Sunday’s liturgy leads us to meditate on the Beatitudes (cf. Mt 5:1-12) which open up the great so-called Sermon on the Mount, the “Magna Carta” of the New Testament. Jesus manifests God’s desire to lead men to happiness. This message was already present in the preaching of the prophets: God is close to the poor and the oppressed, and delivers them from those who mistreat them. But in this preaching of his, Jesus follows a particular path: he starts with the word “blessed”, that is, happy. He continues with the indication of the condition to be so; and he concludes by making a promise. The cause of blessedness, that is, of happiness, lies not in the requisite condition — for example, “poor in spirit”, “mourning”, “hungry for righteousness”, “persecuted” — but in the subsequent promise, to be welcomed with faith as a gift of God. One starts from a condition of hardship in order to open oneself to God’s gift and enter the new world, the “Kingdom” announced by Jesus. This is not an automatic mechanism, but a way of life in following the Lord, through which the reality of hardship and affliction is seen in a new perspective and experienced according to the conversion that comes about. One is not blessed if one is not converted, capable of appreciating and living God’s gifts.

I pause on the first Beatitude: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (v. 3). The poor in spirit is he who has assumed the feelings and attitudes of those poor people who, in their state, do not rebel, but who know how to be humble, meek, open to God’s grace. The happiness of the poor — of the poor in spirit — has a twofold dimension: with regard to riches and with regard to God. With regard to possessions, to material possessions, this poverty in spirit is sobriety: not necessarily sacrifice, but the ability to savour the essence, to share; the ability to renew every day the wonder at the goodness of things, without being weighed down in the obscurity of voracious consumption. The more I have, the more I want; the more I have, the more I want: this is voracious consumption. This kills the soul. Men or women who do this, who have this attitude, ‘the more I have, the more I want’, are not happy and will not attain happiness. With regard to God, it is praising and recognizing that the world is a blessing and that at its origin is the creative love of the Father. But it is also opening to Him, docility to his Lordship: it is He, the Lord, He is the Great One. I am not great because I have so many things! It is He: He who wanted the world for all mankind, and who wanted it so that men and women might be happy.

The poor in spirit is the Christian who does not rely on himself, on material wealth, is not obstinate in his own opinions, but who listens with respect and willingly defers to the decisions of others. If in our communities there were more of the poor in spirit, there would be fewer divisions, disagreements and controversies! Humility, like charity, is an essential virtue for living together in Christian communities. The poor, in this evangelical sense, appear to be those who keep alive the objective of the Kingdom of Heaven, offering a glimpse of it revealed as a seed in the fraternal community which favours sharing over ownership. I would like to emphasize this: to favour sharing over ownership. Always having the heart and hands open (he gestures), not closed (he gestures). When the heart is closed (he gestures), it is a shrunken heart. It doesn’t even know how to love. When the heart is open (he gestures), it is on the path of love.

May the Virgin Mary, model and first fruit of the poor in spirit because she is wholly docile to the Lord’s will, help us to surrender ourselves to God, rich in mercy, so that we may be filled with his gifts, especially the abundance of his forgiveness.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 29 January 2017]

(Mk 4:35-41)

The whole Gospel of Mk is an articulated answer to the question: ‘who is Jesus?’ (v.41). His direction of travel seems to the wrong direction, and brazenly breaks the rules accepted by all.

While the disciples caressed nationalist desires, the Master begins to make it clear that He is not the vulgarly awaited Messiah, restorer of the late empire of David [or the Caesars, in succession struggle under the eyes of Mk’s Roman community: Galba, Oton, Vitellius, Vespasian].

The Kingdom of God is open to all humanity, which in those times of turmoil - torn apart by the civil war after Nero’s follies - sought security, hospitality, points of reference.

Everyone could find a home and shelter there (v.32b).

But some remained insensitive to an overly broad idea of ​​Fraternity. The young Rabbi's proposal displaced them.

The teaching and call imposed on Jesus' intimates is to pass to the other shore (v.35), that is, not to hold back for oneself.

The Father's riches had to be communicated to the pagans.

Yet some “veterans” did not want to know about ‘risky disproportions’. They were calibrated on habits of common religiosity, and a circumscribed ideology of power.

So to exorcise the danger of the mission, they were already trying to take the Master hostage (v.36).

From the very beginning, the resistance to the divine office and the lacerating internal debate that had resulted from it, unleashed great storm in the assemblies of believers.

«And a large wind storm comes and the waves spilled into the boat, so that the boat was already filling up» (v.37).

The storm concerns the disciples, the only dismayed; not Jesus - at the stern, that is, at the helm, driving the boat [v. 38 - and on the «cushion»: it is about the Risen One].

What happens ‘inside’ is not a simple reflection of what happens "outside"! This is the mistake to be corrected.

From the peace of the divine condition that dominates chaos (v.39) the Lord draws attention and reproaches the apostles, accusing them of not having «Faith» (v.40).

In short, are we confused, embarrassed, and is the chaos of the schemes raging? Paradoxically, we are on the right path of the Exodus - but we must not get caught up in fear.

Emotionally relevant situations make sense, carry a meaningful appeal, introduce a different introspection, the decisive change; a new 'Genesis'.

Trial in fact activates souls in the most effective way, because it disengages us from the idea of stability, and brings us into contact with dormant energies, initiating the ‘new dialogue with events’.

In Him, we are therefore imbued with a different vision of danger.

Indeed, it seems that Jesus expressly wants the “dark moments” of confrontation and doubt (v.35).

Textbook expectations and the habit of setting up conformist harmonies block the flowering of what we are and hope for.

What is annoying or even ‘against’ has something decisive to tell us.

So even in the little boat of the churches (v.36) the discomfort must express itself.

Ours is an inverted, upside down, unequaled stability - uncertain, inconvenient - yet energetic, capable of reinventing itself.

It will even be excessive, but from the disruptions. And observing in others our own dark sides.

For a proposal of Tenderness without a plan, not corresponding; wich is not a relaxation area.

Love that rhymes with terrible anxiety, which however puts us in immediate contact with our deepest layers - and the ‘suburbs’!

[Saturday 3rd wk. in O.T.  January 31, 2025]