Zacchaeus: Surprising about yourself, and set your accounts straight

(Lk 19:1-10)

In what sense should we "improve" - and what should I do? Or are we scarred forever?

How do we authentically encounter Christ? What is the source of a saved path and its incomparable joy reflected in works?

How can I change my life and give it a shot in the arm? Time and again I have tried and failed: is happiness an illusion?

And... how do I relate to the exclusivists of the sacred and discipline [or the ideas in vogue]?

Does the Face of the Father really have those scratchy, ruthless, foreboding or one-sided features that they proclaim?

Lk's solution is not to deal with moralism or current opinion, because the head full of wind and fuss would suck us in.

One must fly over, looking at reality from an unprecedented point of view that is not subject to manipulation - thus grasping oneself, in Christ.

And not be plagued or hindered.

This is why the episode is set in Jericho (the last stage of the Exodus), which once served as the decisive threshold to the conquest of the Promised Land.

Jesus also passes through our city (Lk 19:1), to show the face of the Father, who even in the [considered] unpleasant, scoundrel and rich, is able to discern a resourceful son.

Zacchaeus is myself when I let myself get caught up in the race of having, and thus become an almost hopeless case.

Already having much, I could probably keep to myself. Instead I feel a malaise inside.

Restlessness, dissatisfaction, set in motion: symptoms of the parched soul, clues not to be silenced.

The professional or ministerial goal I had in mind may have been achieved, but I realise that although I am not a total failure, behind the mask I wear I remain an anguish: I realise that I have lost the goal.

My heart wanted something else, that is why I do not grasp radical harmony with my deepest essence, with the Gold of my DNA.

Then I have to put myself back into the field, because something in my centre is wrong - despite the possible role won, or partial joys.

I do not feel successful, I cannot go on like this. I have to shake myself up. How do I begin?

The Gospel tells us: from a renewed Perception. We must sharpen our gaze!

Zacchaeus wants to "see Jesus, who he is" [Lk 19:3 Greek text]: he longs to understand whether God is sensitive to his anxieties.

Although he lives in a formally devout environment, the crowd around him does not allow him to have any frank and direct relationship.

The mass of established followers only accentuates his ties and anxiety, not least because no one would allow him to climb a ladder or the roof of his house (in that area, all without pitches).

By harbouring a public sinner, it was believed that the dwelling itself became unclean: he could not even touch it, nor tread the rungs of an outside ladder; let alone go on the terrace.

In the one who is socially singled out, the problem is accentuated, and with it the conviction that there is nothing to be done.

People not infrequently hinder the growth and existence of others with purist or ideological fixations.

Petty judgements that reveal an inability to welcome, to listen, to understand, to advance, to grow, to truly promote.

Since there is no direct way forward because of the sanctimonious multitudes, one has to invent something - even at the cost of the dishonour of running ahead [in the Oriental environment, particularly disgraceful: v.4].

"Since on the main road everyone has a mean look that makes me regret existing - but I want to see with my own eyes (and not just be told) - I try to see without being seen".

The sycamore is a very leafy tree - and Zacchaeus thinks:

"Since I should climb it but they don't give me a chance to reach any ledge (lest I contaminate them) - and since the gazes are so dark as to annoy and haunt, I hide somewhere... even in the foliage... so that no one notices me".

Disturbance induced by judgements is an insurmountable barrier to a loving relationship with our Lord. How to regulate oneself?

Simply, one does not have to "regulate oneself".

Despite the uproar around, the Master sees precisely the little one, the despised and mortified.

If the stern world were to notice him, it would only notice a blemish, it would look without much subtlety.

Jesus' gaze is different. He does not mortify us, nor does he make us despair.

He is drawn to the very person who is even embarrassed about himself and uncomfortable about being noticed.

Not only: he calls him by name, and in Aramaic 'Zachàr' [Hebrew 'Zakkài'] means Righteous, Pure!

While all perceive obscurity, the Son grasps in each shaky and curious person an innate purity and the possibility of good.

Even of those who hide.

While chic people shun you, God seeks you out. Indeed, the goal of his passage is precisely your dwelling place [Lk 19:4: "he had to"].The Plan for us is that no one should be lost, so the Lord wisely discerns the gifts and opportunities that lie hidden even behind troubled sides of our personality.

Sounds transgressive?

But while the disciples remain open-mouthed at the spectacle of the paladin priests and the magnificence of the Temple in the eternal and holy city, Christ sees the insignificant gesture of the widow (Mk 12:41-44).

In short, when the Lord is with those who are in trouble or have erred in life, He is always at the bottom, because He is servant; not judge and master.

Thus in the episode of the adulteress [Jn 8:3-11 Greek text], and in the same way he also looks at the outcast: from the bottom to the top, not vice versa (Lk 19:5).

Good spiritual leaders also do the same: attracted by those who suffer because of an isolated and disfigured life under condemnation.

Ridiculous schematisms - those that invite us to erect external scaffolding and climb it - cause us an absurd waste of energy

The vain waste of attention, faculties, and commitments affects not only style and detail - even the main lines of personality.

Instead, Jesus forces Zacchaeus (all of us) to come down, so that he - by continuing to disregard all opinions - could fulfil his destiny.

Promised land that was already throbbing in his soul. Without first renouncing, nor any particular ascetic effort.

"Perceive and descend" instead of "be seen and ascend". Here is the non-rule 'rule', indispensable.

To be true to oneself, to the innate Friend - instead of allowing oneself to be conditioned by the 'best' of the club [what an extraordinary benefit and redemption!]

That which is not the rubbish of oneself, happens spontaneously; it happens without artifice or inculcated intentions.

Everything, genuinely adhering to the impulse of the candid encounter.

Letting oneself be surprised: looking out from the viewpoint of the 'new eye'.

A turning point that conveys how to internalise a growing life, punctuated by evolutionary genesis - preparing the New Birth.

The transformation then takes place on the ground, in practical life - ceasing to be told how it would (should) have been.

After all, an archaic elaboration or an overly sophisticated configuration, both laced with respectable exteriority - would only make us sick.

Zacchaeus did not want to resemble any of the actors around him.

So he realised himself in earnest - realising his own and others' needs, sweeping away the banalities of judgements and the whimpers of ethical platitudes.

The 'small in stature' can also be stunted: in the gospel mikròi (v.3) are the incipient, those with little knowledge and energy.

Those who have a modicum of Faith, and try to appear in the community, but are immediately put in line or in the hole.

And they are often scandalised by the very adulterers: that is, those who stick to habitual and impersonal practice - or the sophisticated à la page.

However, those are not the real disciples, but rather the masses who obfuscate.

As it happens, they are people who fulfil, observe, obey, and whose lives are neutered, but gossiping, conditioning - and always in a bad mood (Lk 19:7).

Although they often crowd around Jesus, they are there only out of habit, or out of fear that he will run away and do some unforeseen mischief - cheering the unhappy and out of 'the loop'.

As with Zacchaeus. Those different from the top of the class [they] are minimums to be kept away from, those who are almost repulsive.

Valued as crawling worms, or inadequate; therefore unworthy of being considered.

Instead, they are appeals to mission, a call to deepen and be more careful.

In their posturing, the promoters of their look behave as if they were sphinxes or untouchables.

And in so doing they believe the Eternal in precisely the way that is perplexing.

They seem to have no contrasts, but they are eager to project their own unexpressed cravings onto others.

Hence they see him who hides himself in shame of himself - not to retrieve him, but to bury him well.

Deluding themselves thus to annihilate their own hidden faces, which however - under the fine reputation - brood (and chronicle).

Who then is God (cf. v.3)?

He who rests with the small and microscopic - disfigured more by external judgement than by his own malice.

Inside, the 'saints' and unmarked for life [the 'would-be-but-can't' - immaculate for a matter of cosmetic respectability] are equal to him.

Once we have had the experience of gratuitousness that crumbles [pious or very modern] prejudices and the judgments of village vice, Christ takes a moment to change us and multiply the good.

The Master is in a hurry to meet every bewildered person; just like a lost lover.

He knows that we need to find joy today (vv.5.9).

So he does not make time for practices, rigmarole, or fulfilments that demonstrate contrived conversion: such a Father would not be lovable.He would not inspire transformation, nor a sense of connection and justice.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (xxvii): "He who binds well uses neither ropes nor bonds, yet he cannot be loosed".

Traditional religion looks to the past and wants to elevate man in the abstract, minding punctilious external concatenations.

Contemporary woke ideology vaunts the hedonistic, situationalist, relative, uprooted and disembodied future; without backbone, without deep thought, nor lasting good.

Jesus aims at the present and the a-head. Not the distant fact.

He unconditionally accentuates the "feelings of belonging to one and the same humanity" (cf. Brethren All No.30).

The Most High points deep and low: He desires to share His life-giving Presence with the anomalous and the isolated.

He needs them 'immediately', even if his 'friends' [not infrequently the most 'intimate'] stand around offended (Lk 19:7).

In short, the Lord's authentic Family is not made up of distrustful people. He stands in and in the midst of situations of Freedom.

He does not first observe who is already in - and who is still out. Thus He restores our stature, freely, without any conditions.

Of course, in the minds of the leaders of ancient or abstract religion, such a God is worthless: he cannot even distinguish between 'friends-ours' and 'merits-mine'.

The authorities and the phenomena reject him, of course. But they have finally understood Who He is (v.3).

Even Zac-euro has been cured of his old blindness: he used to see in God a notary, and in his neighbour only people to be exploited - all the more so because they were surly, unpleasant, hateful, unbearable.

All in all, the tax collector was the worst enemy of a world submerged by provincialism, from which he willingly extorted money.

The super offender therefore hides himself from the sight of others... because in discovering the codes that inhabit him, he no longer wants to be plagiarised.

He desires an eye that sees the Face of God and looks within, with no more seemingly obvious ballasts that do not correspond to him.

Zacchaeus no longer wants to look at how and where others look, first and foremost those safe in the saddle; bunch of troublemakers - who do not recover and do not allow for reparation.

They do not make any dreams come true within, and can still guide us.

The authentic person then wants to set out on 'his' path.

By questioning everyone's certainties, he brings into play his own innermost essence, the reason why he was born.

His own destiny does not want external certainties, common events, judgements and happenings that do not really belong to him.

The inner vision of the Zacchaeus in us is not grafted and identified; not even the one we had perhaps chosen, to become rich.

It was enough for us to turn our eyes away from that same project, as from the purposes of religiosity that was fitting, or too alternative (not to touch the flesh).

And even move away from the taken-for-granted idea of life that we had made for ourselves - within the usual 'angle'.

Zacchaeus [each] finds freedom only in his 'hiding place'.

By hiding, he defiles himself from the obligation to appear. He escapes from catwalks that conform to the environment.

Deceptive stages - because they interfere, and close much more than being with oneself and the only founding Relationship.

No one else could deal with them, apart from a higher Self, that of the inner labyrinths that one traverses oneself, which oppose conformism.

They accentuate curiosity and the never-seen-before, even for us.

They seem to take us away from the ordinary scanning of the usual intermediate goals. But they resemble us.

Zacchaeus understands that the first of his tasks was 'watching', opening up elementary (but not gross) perception.

Stimulating intuitive processes; not depersonalising, nor cerebral.

Without even changing jobs. Without dismissing his emotions: true signals to be noticed, guiding him to the authenticity of his fate.

Christ only has something to say to us if we explore Him without the peel of homologising preconceptions: nothing to do with Him and our character, in essence.

The things of the Father are to be sought, grasped, accommodated and understood as they are - encountering discomfort.

Without even struggling with extreme effort against the sides of oneself that should not belong to us.

True: elements of discernment rarely taught explicitly: e.g. 'how to change' name and destiny.

But the wearisome relationship with such narrow 'chosen ones' paradoxically makes it easier. It also makes us grasp what our own obstinacy - the only thing to disturb us - did not make us focus on and consider.

Things we never suspected, never 'knew', never saw. In fact, forces we do not use.

As the Unknown One advances (vv.1.4-5) so that we discover them with Him, and bring them forth.

On our behalf He desires to take the helm of the decisive course we never knew how to chart. And take us forward, regenerate us again.We will be brought into contact with the Fire of the Primordial Calling, which will bring forth wonders precisely from the unknown, shadowy sides; from the deep, opposite states.

An appeal to all children who do not want to get lost in the surface, in the ungenerous judgement of veterans or antecedents who lose people, and all people.

Interestingly, even in the accounts of the Chassidim reported by Buber, even at the Torah's proclamation, the search for a kind of emptiness in ideas that would make room for another Eros was recommended.

And in particular to "no longer hear oneself [i.e., one's own formation and worldview] at all, to be no more than an ear listening to what the world of the Word says in Him. As soon as you begin to hear your own words, cease".

That which we do not like and would never have chosen, becomes a Voice that without demeaning interrogates, and humanises.

Making us discover - through uninterrupted pregnancies - our own and others' full dimension.

Free of cloaks, we will trigger that ancient, future and intelligent energy that leads to the unpredictable journey.

To the Goal of total Life. To the Home that is truly ours. To the Abode of a saved life, in fullness of being.

Tent that still brings out the spontaneous naturalness of the flowers that come up, without exhausting us with artificial sweats.

Cured of the sight - of both the pious and the fallen - precisely that of the excluded, the worst impure and (even religiously) transgressor there can be, becomes the only salvageable case.

Jesus crumbles the goddess that formed the fabric of deep archetypal sacred ballast.

Now in the peer-to-peer relationship with his founding Logos, the sinner realises that it is not pristine 'perfection' that gives a licence of immunity to (then) have the right to meet the Father.

It is the immediate and gratuitous relationship with the Risen One that purifies him, enabling the heart to enjoy exponential and fruitful life already here.

No man must consider himself a hopeless case, a stranger to the bliss of a new Heaven on earth.

Perhaps we can expect everything, except that someone will tell us: inside you are indefectible, you have the key that opens the door that appears locked...

If Zacchaeus had pretended to 'improve', intoxicating himself according to a cultural, behavioural and religious model, he would have run aground, becoming insignificant.

Instead, his entire previous life was recovered and reinvested, by an immediate Friendship; without the cliché of 'perfection' first.

The raw but spontaneous person did not allow himself to be taken hostage by false teachers, who would introduce him into their absurd labels [the maze-codes on how one should 'be in the world'].

Even in the case of this loan shark, the discomforts were not overcome by opposing, but by welcoming.

In their happening within, those discomforts stimulated the recognition of a unique profile; of one's own soul so different. 

It would have been detrimental to fight it with the muscles of the will, and aseptic observances, cerebral doctrines, mortifications, photocopied repetitions.

That of conditioning-induced deviations is a poisonous cosmetic for the soul and for the works we are called upon to bring forth from our unrepeatable soul.

The beliefs of others lead the lower self off the track of the orientation that deeply and uniquely belongs to it.

The deep essence calls to immediacy rather than identity. To the spontaneity (particular but full) of our Germ, which matures in stages and leaps, and will make our destiny dissymetric.

It will, however, lead to the true Goal: it is not 'the problem' - as is often imagined.

It is that Nest which within does not diverge, then to protect us - in the alliance with the self and in the exuberance of our flourishing.

Led to ourselves, we will feel our relational nature too, previously suffocated by the cloak of a homologising respectability, which gushes out of itself.

Adaptation to an external, depersonalising or conventional logic or chattering mentality and religious life distances us from the authentic purification and quality leaps that truly equate us.

They do trigger the codes of a healing that develops not from paroxysmal states, nor from practices that are all the same. But from a face-to-face with our constituent core, filled with beneficial forces; energetic and passionate.

With Jesus our becoming will never be in a trivial relationship with what we have been or how we should be: not a formal concatenation.

We will pass through unexpected and marvellous Genesis, which overrides any organigram of prediction and linear development.

The difference between religiosity and Faith?

It is explicit in the unpredictable story of Zacchaeus, who decides not to stay where they put him, slavishly following an impossible discipline that he did not want.

He realised that he would not be able to 'improve': he chose not to be infected all his life.It was first a restless dissatisfaction, then an engaging attempt at genuine vision, then a simple man-to-man encounter that prepared him for his decisions.

Even if we are not considered 'ready' [by an expert and his code], it is with immediacy and without too much inner struggle or tearing that we can reach another Territory.

And change the air for others too, sisters and brothers - simply by the 'unconditional perception' of a new Face of God.

We will find Him not at all nosy and sullen, nor patronising.

Instead, he conveys that absurd self-confidence that changes our lot, and the fate of the world.

Where welcomed, we will surprise ourselves. And we will set things right.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you have a personal view of Jesus passing by, or do you borrow it from the opinion of experts who tear your soul apart with accusations?

On what occasion has Christ conveyed an absurd self-confidence to you, which has opened up new spaces of life and set things right?

Antivedere: new Aesthetics that will save church and world

Need to see it. Antivedere: fullness, not beauty among others

The Christian, the one who wants to be a follower of Christ, the one who feels the need to cling to Him through the bonds of His authenticity and certainty, will always have, as a man, as a man especially of our time so nourished by the visual image, the instinctive need to see Him, Jesus the Christ, as He was in face, in appearance, in bearing, in person. We have said this before. But this desire remains, and recurs when questions arise about the genuine interpretation of his message, and about the duty to conform our conduct to his teaching. Is not, after all, this aspiration always present in the Gospel characters? Let us take Zacchaeus, in St Luke's account: "he wanted to see Jesus, who he was"; and, small in stature as he was, in the midst of the crowd he could not; he then climbed a sycamore tree; and from there he saw, or rather was seen by the Lord who called him and told him to come down, wanting him to be his guest on that day (Luc. 19, 1 ff.).

But the fortune of Jesus' contemporaries, who saw Him with their own eyes (cf. I. 1, 1) is not ours. Just as it is not of all humanity that came after Him. Already St. Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons (at the end of the 2nd century) warns that the bodily images that have been attempted to be disseminated of Christ since then are apocryphal (Adv. Haereses, 1, 25; PG 7, 685). St. Augustine is categorical: "We completely ignore" what the bodily face of Jesus was, as well as that of Our Lady (De Trinit. 8, 5; PL 42, 952). We must form our figure from elements common to human nature and from the imaginative reflections that the information we have about Him, reading the Gospel or believing His word, provoke in our spirit. Art and piety help each other in this not easy elaboration.

It is not vain fantasy; it is a worthy, and in a certain sense indispensable, effort for anyone who wants to have a concrete and faithful concept of Christ, which without mythical artifice presents itself as ideal.

Let us try asking ourselves: how do we depict Christ Jesus? That is to say: what is the characteristic aspect of Him that emerges from the Gospel? How, at first sight, does Jesus present Himself? Once again, his own words help us: "I am meek and humble of heart" (Matth. 11: 29). Jesus wants to be looked at like this, seen like this. If we were to see him, he would appear to us like this, even though the vision, which Revelation gives us of him, fills his heavenly figure with form and light (Rev 1:12 ff). This sweet, good and above all humble aspect imposes itself as essential. Meditating on it, one perceives that it both manifests and conceals a fundamental mystery relating to Christ, that of the Incarnation, that of the humble God, a mystery that governs the whole of Christ's life and mission: "The Christus humilis is the centre of Christology" of St Augustine (Cf. POKTALIÉ, D. Th. C. 1, II, 2372); and which imprints the whole of the Gospel teaching on us: "What else did he teach, if not this humility? . . . in this humility we can approach God", says the Doctor of Hippo (En. in Ps. 31, 18; PL 36, 270). Moreover, does not St. Paul have a term, which smacks of the absolute, when he tells us that Christ 'annihilated himself': semetipsum exinanivit? (Phil. 2, 7) Jesus is the good man par excellence; and it is for this reason that he descended to the lowest level even of the human ladder; he made himself a child, he made himself poor, he made himself patient, he made himself a victim, so that none of his brothers in humanity could feel him superior and distant; he placed himself at the feet of all. He is for all. He belongs to everyone; indeed to each of us, in the singular; St Paul says so: 'He loved me and sacrificed himself for me' (Gal. 2:20).

It is not surprising that the iconography of Christ has always sought to interpret this meekness, this extreme goodness. The mystical intelligence of Him has come to contemplate Him in the heart, and to make, for us modern sentimentalists and psychologists, always polarised towards the metaphysics of love, worship of the Sacred Heart, the burning and symbolic hearth of Christian devotion and activity.

Here an objection arises, especially today: is this image of Christ, who realises in himself his own word, that is, the beatitudes of poverty, meekness, non-resistance (cf. Matth. 5:38 ff.), the true Christ? Is he the Christ for us? Where is the Christ Pantocrator, the strong Christ, the King of kings, the Lord of rulers? (Cf. Rev. 19: 11 ff.) Is the Christ the reformer? ("Ego autem dico vobis . . .", Matth. 5) the contentious Christ, with his contentions (e.g. Matth. 5, 20) and anathemas? (Cf. Matth. 23) The liberating Christ, the Christ of violence? (Cf. Matth. 11, 12) Is there no talk today of the Christianity of violence and the theology of revolution? After so much talk of peace, the temptation of violence, as the supreme affirmation of freedom and maturity, as the only means of reform and redemption, is so strong that we speak of a theology of violence and revolution; and often to the exciting theories the facts, or at least the tendencies of the redemption of the 'constituted disorder', correspond. One then tries to have Christ for oneself, and to justify certain disorderly, demagogic and rebellious attitudes with the attitudes and words of Him.

The discourse is many. We ourselves have alluded to it on other occasions. Just one piece of advice for now. In the face of this supposed contradiction between the figure of the meek and gentle Christ, the good Shepherd Christ, the Christ crucified out of love, and the figure of the virile and stern, indignant and pugnacious Christ, it will be necessary to reflect well, and to see how things stand in the original documents, the Gospels, the New Testament, the authentic and coherent Tradition, and in their genuine interpretation. We feel it is our duty to claim honest attention in this regard. Especially on the complexity of the figure of Christ: he is certainly both meek and strong, as he is both man and God; and then on the true reaction, certainly not political, certainly not anarchic, that Christ's reforming energy injects into the fallen and corrupt world; that is, on the true hopes that he proposes to humanity.

We shall then see that the figure of Christ presents, yes, without altering the enchantment of his merciful gentleness, also a grave and strong aspect, formidable, if you like, against cowardice, hypocrisies, injustice, cruelty, but never separated from a sovereign irradiation of love.

Only love defines him as Saviour. And it is only through the ways of love that we will be able to approach Him, imitate Him, insert Him into our souls and into the ever dramatic events of human history.

Yes, we will be able to see Him, who dwelt with us, and shared our earthly lot, to infuse us with His gospel of salvation, and to prepare us for this full salvation; we will see Him "full of grace and truth" (I. 1:14).

Faith and love are the eyes that we now need in order to be able to see him in some way; that is, to see him.

(Pope Paul VI, General Audience 27 January 1971)

Let us begin with water, as would appear logical in many respects. Water is an ambivalent symbol: of life, but also of death; as the peoples hit by flooding and seaquakes know well. But water is first and foremost an element essential to life. Venice is called the “City of Water”. And for you who live in Venice this condition is a double sign, both negative and positive. It entails much hardship and at the same time an extraordinary fascination. Venice being a “city of water” makes me think of a famous contemporary sociologist who has described our society as “liquid”, and thus the European culture: to express its “fluidity”, its scant or perhaps lack of stability, its changeableness, the inconsistence which at times seems to characterize it. And here I would like to insert the first proposition: Venice, not as a “liquid” city — in the sense just mentioned — but as a city “of life and of beauty”. Of course, this is a choice but in history it is necessary to choose: men and women are free to interpret, to give a meaning to reality, and it is in this freedom itself that the great dignity of the human being consists.

In the context of a city, any city, the administrative, cultural and economic decisions depend, basically, on this fundamental orientation, which we may call “political” in the most noble, the loftiest sense of the term. It is a question of choosing between a “liquid” city, the homeland of a culture that appears ever more relative and transient, and a city that is constantly renewing its beauty by drawing on the beneficial sources of art, of knowledge and of the relations between people and peoples.

[Pope Benedict, Meeting with the world of culture... Venice 8 May 2011]

Gratitude and joy are therefore the feelings that characterize our meeting. It is taking place in the sacred space, so full of art and memories, of the Basilica of San Marco, where faith and human creativity have given rise to an eloquent catechesis through images. 

The Servant of God Albino Luciani, who was your unforgettable patriarch, described his first visit to this Church as a young priest: “I found myself immersed in a river of light ... At last I could see with my own eyes and enjoy the full splendour of a world of art and unique beauty, whose charm penetrates your inmost depths (Io sono il ragazzo del mio Signore, Venice-Quarto d'Altino, 1998). This temple is the image and symbol of the Church of living stones which you are, Christians of Venice. “‘[I] must stay at your house today’. So he made haste and came down and received him joyfully” (Lk 19:5-6). How often during the Pastoral Visit, did you listen to and ponder these words, addressed by Jesus to Zacchaeus! 

They have been the main theme of your community meetings, providing you with an effective stimulus to welcome the Risen Jesus, a sure way to find fullness of life and happiness. In fact, genuine human fulfilment and true joy are not found in power, success or money, but only in God, whom Jesus Christ makes known and brings close to us. 

This is Zacchaeus’ experience. According to the current mentality, he has it all: power and money. He can be called a “ man who has ‘made it’”: he has worked his way up, has achieved what he wanted and could say, like the rich fool in the Gospel parable, “Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years, take your ease, eat, drink and be merry” (Lk 12:19). For this reason his desire to see Jesus is surprising. What impelled him to seek Jesus out? Zacchaeus realized that what he possessed was not enough, he felt the desire for more. And here was Jesus, the Prophet of Nazareth, passing through Jericho, his hometown. 

The echo of some unusual words spoken by Jesus had reached him: blessed are the poor, the meek, those who mourn, who hunger for righteousness. These words were strange to him, but perhaps for this very reason, were also fascinating and new. He wanted to see this Jesus. But though Zacchaeus was rich and powerful, he was short. So he ran ahead and climbed a tree, a sycamore. It did not matter to him whether he was exposing himself to ridicule: he found a way to make the meeting possible. 

And Jesus arrived, he looked up at him and called him by name: “Zacchaeus, make haste and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (Lk 19:5). Nothing is impossible to God! From this meeting streamed forth a new life for Zacchaeus: he welcomed Jesus with joy, discovering at last the reality that can truly and fully fill his life. He had first hand experience of salvation, was no longer the same as before. As a sign of conversion he committed himself to donating half of his possessions to the poor and giving back four-fold to those he had robbed. He found the true treasure, because the Treasure, which is Jesus, found him!

Beloved Church in Venice! Imitate the example of Zacchaeus and surpass it! Overtake the men and women of today and help them to surmount the barriers of individualism, of relativism; never let yourselves be brought low by the failures that can scar Christian communities. Strive to look closely at the person of Christ, who said: “I am the way, the truth and the life” (Jn 14:6). 

As Successor of the Apostle Peter, visiting your land in these days, I repeat to each one of you: do not be afraid to swim against the tide in order to meet Jesus, to direct your attention upwards to meet his gaze. The “logo” of my Pastoral Visit portrays the scene of Mark delivering the Gospel to Peter, taken from a mosaic in this basilica. Today, symbolically, I come to redeliver the Gospel to you, the spiritual children of St Mark, in order to strengthen you in the faith and encourage you in the face of the challenges of the present time. Move ahead with confidence on the path of the new evangelization, in loving service to the poor and with courageous testimony in the various social realities. Be aware that you bear a message meant for every man and for the whole man; a message of faith, of hope and of love.

[Pope Benedict, closing of the pastoral visit Venice 8 May 2011]

1. “Zaccheus, make haste and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (Lk 19:5).

Saint Luke, in the Gospel which we have just heard, recounts the meeting between Jesus and a man called Zaccheus, a chief tax collector who was very rich. Since he was short of stature he climbed a tree to be able to see Christ. He then heard the Master’s words: “Zaccheus, make haste and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (Lk 19:5). Jesus had taken note of Zaccheus’ gesture; he understood his desire and anticipated his invitation. The fact that Jesus would go to the house of a sinner even caused amazement in some people. Zaccheus, delighted at the visit, “received him joyfully” (Lk 19:6), that is, he opened the door of his house and of his heart to the encounter with the Saviour.

3. “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor” (Lk 19:8). I wish to return to the Gospel reading from Saint Luke: Christ, “the light of the world” (cf. Jn 8:12), brought his light to the home of Zaccheus, and in a special way to his heart. Thanks to the closeness of Jesus, of his words and of his teaching, this man’s heart begins to be transformed. Already on the threshold of his house Zaccheus declares: “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold” (Lk 19:8). In the example of Zaccheus we see how Christ dispels the darkness of the human mind. In his light the horizons of existence become broader: we begin to be aware of other people and their needs. A bond with others is born, an awareness of man’s social dimension and consequently a sense of justice. “The fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true”, teaches Saint Paul (Eph 5:9). Opening ourselves to our fellow man, to our neighbour, constitutes one of the principal fruits of sincere conversion. Man breaks out of his selfish “being for himself alone” and opens himself to others, feeling the need to “be for others”, to be for his brothers and sisters.

This opening of the heart in the encounter with Christ is a pledge of salvation, as is shown in the ensuing conversation with Zaccheus: “Jesus said to him, 'Today salvation has come to this house . . . For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost'” (Lk 19:9-10).

In our own day too, Luke’s description of the event that took place at Jericho has lost none of its importance. It brings us the exhortation given by Christ, “whom God made our wisdom, our righteousness and sanctification and redemption” (1 Cor 1:30). And just as he once did with Zaccheus, so at this moment Christ stands before the men and women of our own age. He seems to say to each person individually: “I must stay at your house today” (Lk19:5).

Dear Brothers and Sisters, this “today” is important. It is a kind of summons. In life there are certain matters that are so important or so urgent that they cannot be put off or left for another day. They must be dealt with now, today. The Psalmist exclaims: “O that today you would harken to his voice! Harden not your hearts” (Ps 95:7-8). “The cry of the poor” (Job 34:28) of all the world rises endlessly from the earth and reaches God. It is the cry of children, women, the elderly, refugees, those who have been wronged, the victims of war, the unemployed. The poor too are in our midst: the homeless, beggars, the hungry, the despised, those who have been forgotten by their own families and by society, the degraded and humiliated, the victims of various vices. Many of these people even try to hide their human misery, but we must know how to recognize them. There are also people suffering in hospitals, children left without parents, or young people experiencing the difficulties and problems of their age.

“Still today we see immense areas in which the work of Christians must bring to bear the charity of God . . . There are situations of persistent misery which cannot but impinge upon the conscience of Christians, reminding them of their duty to address these situations both as individuals and as a community”, as I wrote in my last Message for Lent (15 October 1998, 3 and 4). The “today” of Christ should therefore echo loudly in every heart, making it mindful of the works of mercy. “The lament and the cry of the poor” require us to give a concrete and generous response. It requires us to be willing to serve our neighbour. The invitation is made by Christ. We are constantly being called. Each of us in a different way. In various places, in fact, people are suffering and calling out to others. They need the presence of others, their help. How very important is this presence of the human heart and of human solidarity!

Let us not harden our hearts when we hear “the cry of the poor”. Let us strive to listen to this cry. Let us strive to act and to live in such a way that in our country no one will be without a roof over their head or bread on the table; that no one will feel alone, left without anyone to care for them. I make this appeal to my fellow countrymen. I know how much is being done in Poland to halt the spread of poverty and indigence. Here I would like to emphasize the work being done by the Church’s different Caritas agencies, at both the diocesan and parochial levels. These groups are involved in various initiatives, for example during the Advent and Lenten seasons, and provide assistance to individuals and entire social groups. They are also involved in training and educational activities. The assistance which they provide often goes beyond the borders of Poland. How numerous are the social assistance centres, the hospices, soup kitchens, charitable centres, homes for single mothers, child-care and after-school care centres, protection stations and centres for the disabled that have recently appeared. These are but a few examples of this immense “Good Samaritan” undertaking. I wish also to emphasize the efforts being made by the State and by private institutions and individuals, and by the volunteers who work in them. Mention should also be made here of the initiatives aimed at providing solutions to the troubling situation of growing poverty in different sectors and regions. These are concrete, real and visible contributions to the development of a civilization of love on Polish soil.

We must always recall that the country’s economic development must take into consideration the greatness, dignity, and vocation of man, who “was made in the image and likeness of God” (cf. Gen 1:26). Development and economic progress must never be at the expense of men and women, hindering the meeting of their fundamental needs. The human person must be the subject of development, that is, its most important point of reference. Development and economic progress cannot be pursued at whatever cost! That would not be worthy of man (cf. Sollecitudo Rei Socialis, 27). The Church of today proclaims and seeks to exercise a preferential option for the poor. This is not just a passing feeling or immediate action, but a real and persevering will to work for the good of those who are in need and who often have no hope of a better future.

5. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5:3).

At the very beginning of his messianic activity, speaking at the synagogue in Nazareth, Jesus said: “The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor” (Lk 4:18). He considered the poor the most privileged heirs of the Kingdom. This means that only “the poor in spirit” are able to receive the Kingdom with all their hearts. Zaccheus’ meeting with Jesus shows that a rich man too can become a sharer in Christ’s beatitude for the poor in spirit.

The poor in spirit are those who are willing to use their wealth generously for the needy. In such cases, we see that these people are not attached to their wealth. We see that they understand its real purpose. Material goods in fact are meant to help others, especially the needy. The Church allows private ownership of these goods, if they are used for this purpose.

Today we remember Queen Saint Hedwig. Her generosity to the poor is well known. Although she was rich, she did not forget the poor. For us she is a model of how to live and put into practice Christ’s teaching about love and mercy, about how we must make ourselves like him who, as Saint Paul says, “though he was rich, yet for our sake he became poor that by his poverty we might become rich” (2 Cor 8:9).

“Blessed are the poor in spirit”. This is Christ’s declaration that every Christian, every believer today should hear. There is a great need for people who are poor in spirit, that is, people who are open to the truth and to grace, open to the great things of God; there is a need for big-hearted people who do not let themselves be deceived by the splendour of the riches of this world, and who do not allow these riches to dominate their hearts. Such people are truly strong, because they are filled with the riches of God’s grace. They live in the awareness that they are receiving from God all the time and without end.

“I have no silver and gold, but I give you what I have; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk” (Acts 3:6). With these words the Apostles Peter and John answer the cripple’s plea. They gave him the greatest gift that he could have desired. From poor men, this poor man receives the greatest wealth: in the name of Christ they restore his health. Thus they proclaimed the truth which, from generation to generation, has been the heritage of those who proclaim Christ.

These are the poor in spirit. Though they possess neither silver nor gold themselves, thanks to Christ they have greater power than those who can give all the riches of the world.

Truly such people are happy and blessed, for to them belongs the Kingdom of heaven. Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, homily Elk 8 June 1999]

Today’s Gospel presents us with an event that happened in Jericho, when Jesus entered the city and was welcomed by the crowd (cf. Lk 19:1-10). In Jericho lived Zacchaeus, the chief of the “publicans”, that is, of the tax collectors. Zacchaeus was a wealthy agent of the hated Roman occupation, an exploiter of his people. Out of curiosity, he too wanted to see Jesus, but his status as a public sinner did not allow him to approach the Master; moreover, he was small of stature, and for this reason he climbed a sycamore tree, along the road where Jesus was to pass. 

When he neared that tree, Jesus looked up and said to him: “Zacchaeus, make haste and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (v. 5). We can imagine Zacchaeus’ astonishment! Why does Jesus say “I must stay at your house”? What duty does this refer to? We know that his highest duty is to implement the Father’s plan for all of mankind, which is fulfilled in Jerusalem with his death sentence, the crucifixion and, on the third day, the Resurrection. It is the Father’s merciful plan of salvation. And in this plan there is also the salvation of Zacchaeus, a dishonest man who is despised by all, and therefore in need of conversion. In fact, the Gospel says that when Jesus called him, “they all murmured, ‘He has gone into the house of a sinner!’” (cf. v. 7). The people saw Zacchaeus as a scoundrel who became rich at his neighbours’ expense. Had Jesus said: “Come down, you, exploiter, you traitor of the people! Come to speak with me and settle the score!”, surely the people would have applauded. Instead, they began to whisper: “Jesus is going to his house, the house of the sinner, the exploiter”.

Guided by mercy, Jesus looks for him precisely. And when he enters Zacchaeus’ house he says: “Today, salvation has come to this house, since he also is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (vv. 9-10). Jesus’ gaze goes beyond sins and prejudices. And this is important! We must learn this. Jesus’ gaze goes beyond sins and prejudices; he sees the person through the eyes of God, who does not stop at past faults, but sees the future good; Jesus is not resigned to closing, but always opens, always opens new spaces of life; he does not stop at appearances, but looks at the heart. And here he sees this man’s wounded heart: wounded by the sin of greed, by the many terrible things that Zacchaeus had done. He sees that wounded heart and goes there. 

Sometimes we try to correct or convert a sinner by scolding him, by pointing out his mistakes and wrongful behaviour. Jesus’ attitude toward Zacchaeus shows us another way: that of showing those who err their value, the value that God continues to see in spite of everything, despite all their mistakes. This may bring about a positive surprise, which softens the heart and spurs the person to bring out the good that he has within himself. It gives people the confidence which makes them grow and change. This is how God acts with all of us: he is not blocked by our sin, but overcomes it with love and makes us feel nostalgia for the good. We have all felt this nostalgia for the good after a mistake. And this is what God Our Father does, this is what Jesus does. There is not one person who does not have some good quality. And God looks at this in order to draw that person away from evil. 

May the Virgin Mary help us to see the good that there is in the people we encounter each day, so that everyone may be encouraged to bring out the image of God imprinted in their hearts. In this way we can rejoice in the surprises of the mercy of God! Our God, who is the God of surprises!

[Pope Francis, Angelus 30 October 2016]

Brief Commentary on the Readings [10.11.24]

*First Reading 1 Kings 17:10-16

The prophet Elijah is far from his homeland, in Sarepta, a city on the Phoenician coast, which at the time was part of the kingdom of Sidon and not of the kingdom of Israel. We are in the 9th century B.C., King Ahab had married Queen Jezebel (around 870), thus not a daughter of Israel, but the daughter of the king of Sidon, in order to implement a policy of alliance, but exposing himself to the grave risk of apostasy, because Jezebel brought with her customs, prayers, statues and the priests of the cult of Baal, the god of fertility, rain, lightning and wind. King Ahab, a very weak person, thus ends up betraying his religion and even builds a temple to Baal. Elijah and the faithful Jews feel ashamed at the betrayal of their faith, knowing full well the first commandment: "You shall have no other gods but me!", which is the a. b. c. of the Jewish faith: God alone is God, all other idols are useless. Elijah opposes Jezebel and, in order to prove the falsity of the idols, as a severe drought was just then occurring in Israel, he launches a challenge: you hold Baal to be the god of rain, but I will prove that the God of Israel alone is the one true God, master of everything, of rain and drought. The unfolding of this challenge will take place, but today's text stops at this point. Warned by God, Elijah prophesies that there will be years of severe drought and, following a divine command, he takes refuge by the Kerith stream, east of the Jordan (1 Kings 17:3-4). The drought persists, the stream dries up and God orders him to go to the distant Sarepta where he meets a poor widow from whom, as a poor beggar, he asks for "a piece of bread". The woman confesses to him that she has no more bread, for all she has left is a handful of flour in a jar with a little oil in it; she gathers two pieces of wood to prepare a loaf for her and her son, they will eat it and then prepare to die. The prophet reminds her that God can do everything and invites her to prepare a 'little bread' for him and then she will share what is left with her son. He assures her that the God of Israel will intervene: the jar of flour will not run out and the jar of oil will not be emptied until the day the Lord makes it rain. And so it came to pass: "the jar of flour did not run out and the jar of oil did not empty". The story of the widow of Sarepta is similar to that of the widow who, as we read today in the gospel, in the Temple of Jerusalem gives God all her change, a clear example of a simple faith that deprives itself of everything and trusts in the word of the God of Israel. The message is clear: while Israel falls back into idolatry, a foreign, pagan widowed woman is rewarded by the Lord for her great faith. There is also a detail to point out: the widow heard God personally command her to provide for the prophet, and this shows that God's word resounds where and how He wills, even among the Gentiles. Jesus would refer to this episode when speaking to his countrymen in Nazareth (Lk 4:25-26). Indeed, in the late texts of the Old Testament (and the first book of Kings is part of it), pagans are often cited as an example to indicate that salvation is promised to all mankind, not being reserved to Israel alone. In short, God is solicitous towards those who trust in him, and the great lesson of this biblical episode is that the Lord's solicitude never betrays those who trust in him.  

*Psalm 145 (146), 5-6a, 6c-7ab, 8bc-9a, 9b-10 

With this psalm, Israel sings its history, giving thanks to God for his constant protection. "Oppressed, afflicted, hungry", the people had experienced oppression in Egypt from which they were delivered "with a strong hand and an outstretched arm" as they would later be from deportation to Babylon, and this psalm was written on their return from exile from Babylon, perhaps for the dedication of the Temple restored after its destruction in 587 BC by the troops of the king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar. Indeed, fifty years later (in 538 BC), Cyrus, king of Persia, defeated Babylon, authorised the Jews to return to their homeland and rebuild the Temple, the dedication of which was celebrated with joy and fervour as we read in the book of Ezra: "The sons of Israel, the priests, the Levites and the rest of the deported did joyfully dedicate this House of God" (Ezra 6:16). A psalm therefore imbued with the joy of returning home because, once again, God has shown fidelity to the Covenant with his people of whom he is the father, the avenger, their "redeemer". Re-reading its own history, Israel can testify that God has always accompanied it in its struggle for freedom: "The LORD does justice to the oppressed, he raises up the afflicted". Israel experienced hunger, in the desert, during the Exodus and God sent manna and quails for its food: "To the hungry he gives bread" and only later did it understand that God always redeems the afflicted, heals the sick, lifts up the small and marginalised, opens the eyes of the blind and progressively reveals himself, through his prophets, to his people who seek him: "God loves the righteous". In this song, note the insistence on the name "Lord", which here translates the famous NAME of God revealed to Moses on Sinai, in the burning bush: it is the four consonants YHVH (two inhaled and two inspired) that indicate the permanent, active, liberating presence of God in the life of his people (Ex.3:13-15). Moreover, in the Bible, the expression 'your God' is a reminder of the Covenant with the chosen people: a Covenant to which the Lord has never failed, and Israel's prayer is addressed to the future, so when it evokes the past, it is to strengthen its expectation and hope.  God communicated his name to Moses on Sinai in two ways. First with the unpronounceable four consonants, YHVH, which we often find in the Bible, particularly in this psalm, and which is translated as 'the Lord'. There is, however, a more elaborate formula, "Ehiè asher ehiè", which in Italian is rendered either as "Io sono chi sono", or "I will be who I will be", a way of expressing God's eternal presence alongside his people. The insistence on the future, "for ever" reinforces the commitment of the people who, with this psalm, not only recognise God's work on behalf of Israel, but also want to give themselves a course of action: if God has acted in this way towards us, we in turn must do the same, becoming the first witnesses of the Lord's love for the poor and excluded, a love that, through Israel, he intends to spread to the whole world. The Law of Moses and the Prophets was written to educate the people to progressively conform to God's mercy and, for this reason, it provided numerous rules of protection for widows, orphans, and foreigners, intending to make Israel a free people that respects the freedom of others. Finally, the prophets' appeals focus on two points (which perhaps surprise us): a fierce fight against idolatry, (as Elijah did) and appeals to justice and care for others, going so far as to make God say: "It is mercy I want, not sacrifices, the knowledge of God, not holocausts" (Hos 6:6); or again: "You have been told, O man, what is good, what the Lord requires of you: nothing but to respect right, to love faithfulness, and to walk humbly with your God" (Mi 6:8). Finally, we read in the book of Ben Sira: "The widow's tears run down the cheeks of God" (Si 35:18). For Israel, the tears of all those who suffer flow down the cheeks of God...and if we are close to God, they should flow down our cheeks too! 

* Second Reading Heb. 9:24-28

The author of the letter to the Hebrews, which has been with us for a few Sundays, is addressing Christians of Jewish origin who perhaps feel nostalgia for the ancient cult, while in Christian practice there are no temples or bloody sacrifices. The author, wanting to prove that everything is now obsolete, takes up the realities and practices of the Jewish religion one by one. He speaks above all of the Temple, defined as the 'sanctuary' and points out that one thing is the true sanctuary, in which God resides, that is, heaven itself, quite another is the temple built by men, which is only a pale copy of the true sanctuary. The Jews were particularly proud, and rightly so, of the magnificent Temple of Jerusalem, but they did not forget that every human construction remains human and therefore, weak, imperfect, perishable. Moreover, no one in Israel claimed to enclose the presence of God in a temple, however immense, as the first builder of the Temple of Jerusalem, King Solomon already stated: "Could God really dwell on earth? The heavens themselves and the heavens of the heavens cannot contain you! How much less this House that I have built." (1 Kings 8:27). For Christians, the true Temple, the place where one encounters God, is not a building because the Incarnation of Christ changed everything: now the meeting place between God and man is Jesus Christ, the God made man. The Evangelist John narrates that Jesus took the liberty of driving out the money changers and cattle merchants for sacrifices from the Temple area, explaining then: "Destroy this Temple and in three days I will raise it up" and the disciples understood, after the Resurrection, that the Temple of which he spoke was his body. (Cf. Jn 2:13-21). In today's passage from the Epistle to the Hebrews the same thing is said: let us remain grafted into Jesus Christ, let us be nourished by his body, thus we are placed in the presence of God on our behalf.  With his death Christ highlights the central role of the cross in the Christian mystery and a little later (Heb 10), the author will specify that Christ's death is only the culmination of a life entirely offered up and that when speaking of his sacrifice, one must mean "the sacred act that was his whole life" and not only the hours of his Passion. For the moment, the text before us speaks of Christ's Passion and his sacrifice, without any further details. It juxtaposes the sacrifice of Christ with that offered by the high priest of Israel, on the day of Yom Kippur ("Day of Forgiveness") when the high priest, entering alone into the Holy of Holies, pronounced the Holy Name (YHVH) and shed the blood of a bull (for his own sins) and that of a goat (for the sins of the people), solemnly renewing the Covenant with God. As the high priest left the Holy of Holies, the people, gathered outside, knew that their sins were forgiven. But this renewal of the Covenant was precarious, and had to be repeated every year, whereas the Covenant that Jesus Christ made with the Father in our name is perfect and final: on the Face of Christ on the cross, believers discover the true Face of God who loves his own to the end. We can no longer deceive ourselves; God is our Father because He is the Father of Jesus and in Christ we can live in the Covenant that God proposes to us: the New Covenant in Christ and there is no longer any room for fear of God's judgement because by professing "Jesus will come again to judge the living and the dead" (in our Creed), we proclaim that the word "judgement" is synonymous with salvation: "the Christ, having offered himself once to take away the sins of many, will appear a second time, no longer for sin, but for the salvation of those who wait for him" and it is right to affirm that Jesus Christ is "the high priest of the coming happiness", as the author states in ch.  9:11, a text that is proclaimed on the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, in year B.

*Gospel  Mark 12:38-44

"Beware of the scribes..." We are at the conclusion of the 12th chapter and are approaching the end of Mark's gospel, with the account of the Passion and Resurrection of Christ. Jesus dispenses the last advice to the apostles: He has already told them to have faith in God and "whatever you ask in prayer, have faith that you have obtained it and it will happen to you" (11:22-24). He then added: "See to it that no one deceives you" (13:5), while he now exhorts them to beware of the scribes (12:38) using the language of the prophets to stigmatise some of their attitudes without this meaning a total condemnation of their actions.  At the time, the scribes were highly regarded because they commented and interpreted the Scriptures and preached, they sat in the Sanhedrin, the permanent court of Jerusalem that met in the Temple premises twice a week; they were therefore laymen who had studied the Law of Moses in specialised schools, becoming experts and some among them were called "doctors of the law" so that by respecting them, the Law itself was respected. Such respect made some people's heads swell as they demanded the first seats in the synagogues, with their backs to the Tablets of the Law and facing the public. In today's gospel, Jesus pays tribute to the scribe who had wisely replied, "You are not far from the Kingdom of God." (12:34), but adds a more general criticism by reacting to the hostility that some scribes, from the beginning of his public life, had shown him envy and jealousy. A growing distrust of Christ towards them becomes clear in Mark's gospel as their jealousy becomes hatred to the point of planning to kill Jesus after the expulsion of the merchants from the Temple. The chief priests, scribes and elders besiege him as he walks in the Temple asking him by what authority he teaches and performs miracles (11:27-28) and we will see during the passion Pilate himself realise this, as St Mark notes: "Pilate knew that the chief priests had handed him over to them out of envy" (15:10). Jesus, however, is not impressed by their hatred and rebukes them for something much more serious, namely, that they exploit their position by demanding payment from poor widows when they ask for legal advice: "They devour widows' houses and pray long to be seen. They will receive a more severe sentence" (12:40). It is at this point that a poor widow appears (12:42-43) in total destitution (12:44) because, not being entitled to her husband's inheritance, she depended on public charity. She approaches to lay down two pennies and Jesus points her out as an example to the disciples: 'Truly I say to you, this widow, so poor, has thrown more into the treasury than all others. For all have offered of their surplus. She, on the other hand, in her misery, threw into it all she had to live on" (12:43-44). The evangelist makes no comment, but it is understood that the widow's trust will be rewarded. The parallel with the widow of Sarepta is natural: just as she offered Elijah her last provisions, this widow laid down all her savings in the Temple, stripping herself of everything. Jesus invites us to reject the model of ostentation of some scribes with their thirst for honours and privileges, and exhorts us to imitate the humble and discreet generosity of the "poor widow" who leaves everything she has in the Temple. Several Church Fathers have interpreted it as a powerful symbol of humble and generous faith and genuine charity, not because she gives much but because she offers everything she has to live on, trusting God. This story, besides being a lesson in charity and trust, is also a reminder of authentic social justice, where love for God must always translate into care, help and love for the needy.

Our blindness, between religious sense and Faith

(Lk 18:35-43)

The blind man without a name and crouched at the edges represents us: he is not biologically blind, but one who adjust himself at random.

He cannot «look up» [the key verb to vv.41-43 is «aná-blèpein»] because he does not cultivate ideals; he is satisfied with what gives the contour, which anesthetizes him.

Consequence: the victims of an indolent ideology can confuse the Son of God who donates all of himself and transmits vitality, with the ‘son of David’ (vv.38-39) - who does not convey, but rather takes away life.

The misunderstanding has serious consequences.

Initially every seeker of God risks exchanging the Lord for a phenomenal superman and captain who blesses and favors friends e.g. in their expectations of tranquility, lack of concern and mediocre stasis.

It is a huge defect of sight, because the criteria of wise and solid existence are reversed at all - risking to stick life in a puddle; at most, dragging it to the ground.

If one finds oneself at this level of myopia, it is better to «lift one’s gaze» folded over one’s navel, for short-term petty interests.

Who does not "see well" becomes a man of habit, every day is accompanied to the same places by the same people.

He stands still, «sitting» (v.35) at the edge of a road where people proceed and does not limit as much as him to survive resigned, without snaps.

Such clumsy ones [by choice] - everything expect from the recognition of others; they only live of that. And all they do is repeating identical words and gestures.

Their horizon at hand does not allow them to enter the flow of the Way, where people get busy: building, evolving, expressing themselves, providing for less fortunate sisters and brothers.

An existence dragged to the margins of any interest that is not one’s own money pouch.

These persons live on the movement of others; they are full of small benevolences and opinions bartered by those who pass, for listlessness never re-examined and made their own.

The Word of the Nazarene [in the language of the Gospels the epithet "being of Nazareth" meant "revolutionary, hot-headed, subversive"] triggers the listless.

Personal contact with Jesus corrected his gaze, made him recover the ideal optics - transmitting a diametrically opposite model of a successful man.

In short, Jesus corrects the inert myopia of those who are fond of their ‘place’.

Religiosity or personal Faith: it’s a decisive choice. To start away (from there), reinvent life, abandon the mantle [cf. Mc 10,50] on which common comments and offerings were collected.

Opening the eyes and «rising them up», as an already divine man would do. Pocketing nothing but pearls of light, instead of alms.

In such wise, the Gospel invites a perspective view, which does not fit.

The ‘Fratelli Tutti’ encyclical also proposes visual angles that provoke decision and action: new, invigorating, visionary, daring eyes, filled with 'passage' and Hope.

On muddy roads you can get dirty and you are uncertain, but there we all can proceed in wisdom: on the way that belongs to us; in the movement of the Priesthood of Christ.

With healthy ‘perception’.

[Monday 33rd wk. in O.T.  November 18, 2024]

The movement of the priesthood of Christ

(Lk 18:35-43)

The encyclical Brothers All invites a perspective look, which does not adapt.

Pope Francis proposes views that provoke decision and action: new, energetic, visionary eyes, filled with "passage" and Hope.

It "speaks to us of a reality that is rooted in the depths of the human being, regardless of the concrete circumstances and historical conditioning in which he lives. It speaks to us of a thirst, of an aspiration, of a yearning for fullness, for a fulfilled life, of a measuring oneself against what is great, against what fills the heart and lifts the spirit towards great things, such as truth, goodness and beauty, justice and love. [...] Hope is bold, it knows how to look beyond personal comfort, the small securities and compensations that narrow the horizon, to open itself to great ideals that make life more beautiful and dignified" (n.55) [quoted from a greeting to young people in Havana, September 2015].

Distraught, Paul VI admitted:

"Yes, there are many mediocre Christians; and not only because they are weak or lacking in formation, but because they want to be mediocre and because they have their so-called good reasons of the right middle, of ne quid nimis, as if the Gospel were a school of moral indolence, or as if it authorised serving conformity. Is this not hypocrisy? Inconsistency? Relativism according to the wind that blows?" [passim].

It sounds like a portrait of the shabby, blind life that sometimes catches us: 'nothing too much', 'never the excessive'.

A sort of Don Abbondio-like existence, in contrast to which Manzoni delineates the icon of the man of Faith - who precisely stands out over the mediocre devotee - in the solemn and decisive figure of Cardinal Federigo.

A prelate who instead 'had to fight with the gentlemen of ne quid nimis, who, in everything, would have wanted him to stay within the limits, that is, within their limits'.

Not the reassured qualunquism of a pious coward and situationist, who pretends not to see, is content with his half-assed niche; he sits in the shabby threshing-floor of the minimum union, he muddles along and does not expose himself.

The passage in Lk is a teaching from the very first forms of baptismal liturgy reserved for new believers, called photismòi-illuminati [those who from the darkness of pagan life finally opened their eyes to the Light].

The passage illustrates what happens to a person when he meets Christ and receives his existential orientation: he abandons established but not personally reworked positions and becomes a critical witness.

The narrative is set on the comparison between material downward gazes (such as those of pagans or arrogant followers) and open gazes, capable of lifting man's eye from the fetters of semblance, habit and destructive outer or inner powers.

Comparison brings to the surface what counts in life, what has weight and is not swept away by the impediments of an empty spirituality, enraptured or attracted by epidermic cravings; harnessed to the trappings of social roles or cultural and spiritual conformisms - by customs inherited but not sifted.

In short: the Lord wants us to understand that conformism to the environment and empty devotion inculcate a swampy, lifeless, irrelevant understanding.

What, then, is needed to "see" with the perception of God, beyond appearances, and to lift oneself up from a grey life of alms-giving, literally on the ground? And how to heal the vision of those who cannot see?

Even the 'neighbours' have more or less clear expectations of how to enter Christ's priesthood movement.

The disciples themselves are influenced by an often indifferent crowd around them that expects little but quiet, leisure and favours; and that presses for entry 'into their bounds'.

The nameless blind man crouching at the edge represents us: he is not biologically blind, but one who adjusts himself haphazardly.

He is unable to "look up" [the key-verb in vv.41-43 is "aná-blèpein"] because he does not cultivate ideals; he is content with what passes the outline, which anaesthetises him.

Conditioned by false teachers and approximate spiritual guides, he too is blocked by a spirit of lethargy that aims his existence downwards.

Consequence: the victims of an indolent ideology may confuse the Son of God who gives everything of himself and transmits vitality, with the son of David (v.38) - who does not give, but takes away life.

Jesus resembles and refers to the Father, not to a skilful and quick-witted ruler, who knows how to tame the masses [a figure of a devious or violent style of domination, and of continuous revenge].

The misunderstanding has serious consequences.

Initially, every seeker of God is in danger of mistaking the Lord for a superman and phenomenal captain who blesses and favours his friends in their expectations of tranquillity, nonchalance and mediocre stasis.This is quite a flaw in one's eyesight, because one reverses the criteria of a wise and solid existence at all - risking sticking it in a puddle; at best, dragging it along the ground.

If one finds oneself at this level of short-sightedness, it is better to 'lift one's gaze' folded on one's own navel, for petty petty gain.

He who does not 'see well' becomes a man of habit, he is taken to the same places every day by the same people.

He stands still, 'sitting' (v.35) at the edge of a road where people go on and do not, like him, just survive resignedly, without jerks.

[While I was writing this, one of my high school professors - a person of great faith and dynamism - sent me an Indian proverb: 'if you see everything grey in front of you, move the elephant'].

Such clumsy people by choice - they expect everything from the recognition of others; they live only by begging. And they only repeat words and gestures that are always identical.

Their horizon at hand does not allow them to enter the flow of the Way, where people get busy building, evolving, expressing themselves, providing for their less fortunate brothers and sisters.

An existence dragged along the fringes of any interest other than one's own neglectful pouch.

Yet they are endowed with an old-fashioned religious sense; but precisely because of this - lacking the leap of faith - centred on themselves and the ideas that have been passed on.

They live on the movement of others; they live on petty benevolences and opinions bartered by those who pass by, out of listlessness never re-examined and made their own.

The Word of the Nazarene [in the language of the Gospels, the epithet 'being from Nazareth' meant 'revolutionary, hot-headed, subversive'] triggers the listless.

His new attitude becomes rather that of the 'infant'. He engages in an industrious, creative, practical - futuristic model of life.

He resurrects dynamically, getting rid of the rags on which he expected others to lay something in his favour.

The old garment ends up in the dust - thrown away as in the ancient baptismal liturgies: at any age he undertakes, outclassing petty securities.

He changes his life, looks it in the face; even though he knows he is complicating it, making it challenging and countercultural.

Personal contact with Jesus has corrected his gaze, made him regain his ideal perspective.

In this way, he understands the primordial and regenerating - indeed, recreating - sense of the Newness of God.

The face-to-face encounter conveyed to him a diametrically opposed model of a successful man; not subservient to tacticism.

In short, Jesus corrects the inert shortsightedness of those who are fond of their place.

"The wind that blows" infuses us with a lethal poison: the renunciatory poison of identifying-as-we-are, which rhymes with giving up and growing old.

Recovery from such blindness cannot be a... Miracle! Religiosity or Faith: it is a diriment choice.

It means lazily adapting to fashions of circumstance or the old dress of already 'said' behaviour and usual friendships, just waiting for some solution-lightning that does not involve too much...

That is to say, to depart from there, to reinvent one's life, to abandon the cloak [cf. Mk 10:50] on which comments and common oblations were collected.

Opening his eyes and "lifting them up", as an already divine man would do. Pocketing nothing but pearls of light, instead of alms.

On muddy roads we may get dirty and be uncertain, but we can proceed with knowledge: on the path that belongs to us; in the movement of the priesthood of Christ. With sound perception.

For - as in this episode - the Gospels not infrequently insist on the (devoutly absurd) criterion that the enemy of God is not sin, but the average, passive life of the now identified and placed.

To internalise and live the message:

Did the encounter with Christ remove like a veil from your eyes? Did you seize the opportunity to be born as a new man, and lift your gaze? Or do you remain myopic and inert?

The Passover

One day Jesus, approaching the city of Jericho, performed the miracle of restoring sight to a blind man begging by the roadside (cf. Lk 18:35-43). Today we want to grasp the significance of this sign because it also touches us directly. The evangelist Luke says that the blind man was sitting by the roadside begging (cf. v. 35). A blind man in those days - but also until not so long ago - could only live by begging. The figure of this blind man represents many people who, even today, find themselves marginalised because of physical or other disadvantage. He is separated from the crowd, he sits there while people pass by busy, absorbed in their own thoughts and many things... And the street, which can be a place of encounter, for him instead is a place of loneliness. So many crowds passing by...And he is alone.

It is a sad image of an outcast, especially against the backdrop of the city of Jericho, the beautiful and lush oasis in the desert. We know that it was in Jericho that the people of Israel arrived at the end of the long exodus from Egypt: that city represents the gateway to the promised land. We remember the words that Moses spoke on that occasion: "If there be among thee any of thy brethren that are in need in one of thy cities in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thine heart, neither shalt thou shut thy hand from thy brother in need. Since the needy shall never be lacking in the land, then I give you this command and say to you: Open your hand generously to your poor and needy brother in your land" (Deut 15:7, 11). The contrast between this recommendation of God's Law and the situation described in the Gospel is jarring: while the blind man cries out for Jesus, the people rebuke him to keep quiet, as if he had no right to speak. They have no compassion for him; on the contrary, they feel annoyance at his cries. How often do we, when we see so many people in the street - people in need, people who are sick, people who have no food - feel annoyance. How often, when we are faced with so many refugees and displaced persons, do we feel annoyance. It is a temptation we all have. All of us, even me! That is why the Word of God admonishes us, reminding us that indifference and hostility make us blind and deaf, prevent us from seeing our brothers and sisters and do not allow us to recognise the Lord in them. Indifference and hostility. And sometimes this indifference and hostility also becomes aggression and insult: "but drive them all away!", "put them somewhere else!". This aggression is what people did when the blind man shouted: 'but you go away, come on, don't talk, don't shout'.

We note an interesting detail. The Evangelist says that someone from the crowd explained to the blind man the reason for all this by saying: "Jesus, the Nazarene, is passing by!" (v. 37). The passing of Jesus is indicated with the same verb used in the book of Exodus to speak of the passing of the exterminating angel who saves the Israelites in the land of Egypt (cf. Ex 12:23). It is the "passage" of the Passover, the beginning of deliverance: when Jesus passes by, there is always deliverance, there is always salvation! To the blind man, therefore, it is as if his Passover were being announced. Without allowing himself to be intimidated, the blind man cries out to Jesus several times, recognising him as the Son of David, the awaited Messiah who, according to the prophet Isaiah, would open the eyes of the blind (cf. Is 35:5). Unlike the crowd, this blind man sees with the eyes of faith. Thanks to it, his plea has a powerful efficacy. Indeed, on hearing this, "Jesus stopped and commanded them to bring him to him" (v. 40). In doing so, Jesus takes the blind man off the side of the road and places him in the centre of attention of his disciples and the crowd. Let us also think, when we have been in bad situations, even sinful situations, how it was Jesus himself who took us by the hand and took us off the side of the road and gave us salvation. Thus a twofold passage is realised. First: the people had proclaimed good news to the blind man, but wanted nothing to do with him; now Jesus forces everyone to become aware that the good news implies putting the one who was excluded at the centre of their path. Secondly, in turn, the blind man could not see, but his faith opens to him the way to salvation, and he finds himself in the midst of those who have gone out into the streets to see Jesus. Brothers and sisters, the passing of the Lord is an encounter of mercy that unites all around Him so that we can recognise those in need of help and consolation. In our lives too, Jesus passes by; and when Jesus passes by, and I notice it, it is an invitation to draw closer to Him, to be better, to be a better Christian, to follow Jesus.

Jesus turns to the blind man and asks him: "What do you want me to do for you?" (v. 41). These words of Jesus are striking: the Son of God now stands before the blind man as a humble servant. He, Jesus, God, says: "But what do you want me to do for you? How do you want me to serve you?" God makes himself the servant of sinful man. And the blind man responds to Jesus no longer by calling him "Son of David", but "Lord", the title that the Church from the beginning applies to the Risen Jesus. The blind man asks to see again and his wish is granted: "Have sight again! Your faith has saved you" (v. 42). He has shown his faith by calling on Jesus and absolutely wanting to meet Him, and this has brought him salvation as a gift. Thanks to faith, he can now see and, above all, feel loved by Jesus. This is why the account ends by reporting that the blind man "began to follow him glorifying God" (v. 43): he becomes a disciple. From beggar to disciple, this is also our path: we are beggars, all of us. We are always in need of salvation. And all of us, every day, must take this step: from beggar to disciple. And so, the blind man sets out after the Lord, becoming part of his community. He whom they wanted to silence, now bears loud witness to his encounter with Jesus of Nazareth, and "all the people, seeing, gave praise to God" (v. 43). A second miracle occurs: what happened to the blind man makes the people finally see as well. The same light illuminates them all, uniting them in the prayer of praise. Thus Jesus pours out his mercy on all those he meets: he calls them, brings them to himself, gathers them, heals and enlightens them, creating a new people that celebrates the wonders of his merciful love. Let us also be called by Jesus, and let us be healed by Jesus, forgiven by Jesus, and go after Jesus praising God. So be it!

[Pope Francis, General Audience 15 June 2016]

These favorite children of the heavenly Father are like the blind man in the Gospel, Bartimaeus (Mk 10: 46) at the gates of Jericho. Jesus the Nazarene passed that way. It is the road that leads to Jerusalem, where the Paschal Event will take place, his sacrificial Easter, towards which the Messiah goes for us. It is the road of his exodus which is also ours: the only way that leads to the land of reconciliation, justice and peace. On that road, the Lord meets Bartimaeus, who has lost his sight. Their paths cross, they become a single path. The blind man calls out, full of faith "Jesus, son of David, have pity on me!". Jesus replies: "Call him!", and adds: "What do you want me to do for you?". God is light and the Creator of light. Man is the son of light, made to see the light, but has lost his sight, and is forced to beg. The Lord, who became a beggar for us, walks next to him: thirsting for our faith and our love. "What do you want me to do for you?". God knows the answer, but asks; he wants the man to speak. He wants the man to stand up, to find the courage to ask for what is needed for his dignity. The Father wants to hear in the son's own voice the free choice to see the light once again, the light, the reason for Creation. "Master, I want to see!" And Jesus says to him: "Go your way; your faith has saved you'. Immediately he received his sight and followed him on the way" (Mk 10: 51-52). 

Dear Brothers, we give thanks because this "mysterious encounter between our poverty and the greatness" of God was achieved also in the Synodal Assembly for Africa that has ended today. God renewed his call: "Take courage! Get up..." (Mk 10: 49). And the Church in Africa, through its Pastors, having come from all the countries in the continent, from Madagascar and the other islands, has embraced the message of hope and light to walk on the path that leads to the Kingdom of God. "Go your way; your faith has saved you" (Mk 10: 52). Yes, faith in Jesus Christ when properly understood and experienced guides men and peoples to liberty in truth, or, to use the three words of the Synodal theme, to reconciliation, to justice and to peace. Bartimaeus who, healed, follows Jesus along the road, is the image of that humanity that, illuminated by faith, walks on the path towards the promised land. Bartimaeus becomes in turn a witness of the light, telling and demonstrating in the first person about being healed, renewed, regenerated. This is the Church in the world: a community of reconciled persons, operators of justice and peace; "salt and light" amongst the society of men and nations. Therefore the Synod strongly confirmed and manifested this that the Church is the Family of God, in which there can be no divisions based on ethnic, language or cultural groups. Moving witnesses showed us that, even in the darkest moments of human history, the Holy Spirit is at work and transforming the hearts of the victims and the persecutors, that they may know each other as brothers. The reconciled Church is the potent leaven of reconciliation in each country and in the whole African continent. 

The Second Reading offers another perspective: the Church, the community that follows Christ on the path of love, has a sacerdotal form. The category of priesthood, as the interpretive key of the Mystery of Christ and, consequently, of the Church, was introduced in the New Testament, by the author of the Letter to the Hebrews. His intuition originates from Psalm 110, quoted in today's words, where the Lord God assures the Messiah with a solemn promise: "You are a priest for ever of the order of Melchizedek" (Ps 110: 4). A reference which leads to another, taken from Psalm 2, in which the Messiah announces the Lord's decree which says about him: "You are my son, today have I fathered you" (Ps 2: 7). From these texts derives the attribution to Jesus Christ of a sacerdotal character, not in the generic sense, rather "of the order of Melchizedek", in other words the supreme and eternal priesthood, of divine not human origins. If each supreme priest "is taken from among men and made their representative before God" (Heb 5: 1), He alone, Christ, the Son of God, possesses a ministry that can be identified to his own person, a singular and transcendent ministry, on which universal salvation relies. Christ transmitted this ministry of his to the Church through the Holy Spirit; therefore the Church has in itself, in each of its members, because of Baptism, a sacerdotal characteristic. However here is a decisive aspect the priesthood of Jesus Christ is no longer primarily ritual, rather it is existential. The dimension of the rite is not abolished, but, as clearly seen in the institution of the Eucharist, takes its meaning from the Paschal Mystery, which completes the ancient sacrifices and surpasses them. Thus contemporarily a new sacrifice, a new ministry and a new temple are born, and all three coincide with the Mystery of Jesus Christ. United to him through the Sacraments, the Church prolongs its saving action, allowing man to be healed, like the blindman Bartimaeus. Thus the ecclesial community, in the steps of its Master and Lord, is called to walk decisively along the path of service, to share the condition of men and women in its time, to witness to all the love of God and thus sow hope.

[Pope Benedict, homily for the closing of the Special Synod for Africa 25 October 2009]

Today's Gospel reading [...] reminds us of the episode of the healing of the blind man of Jericho. The Gospel also reveals his name: Bartimaeus, and reconstructs his plea-cry: "Son of David, Jesus, have mercy on me" (Mk 10:47). Finally he relates his moving plea: "Rabbi, that I may regain my sight" (Mk 10:51). And Jesus' answer is not long in coming: "Go, your faith has saved you" (Mk 10:52).

Here, one of those signs that Jesus of Nazareth performed during his public ministry. It is, this, a particularly eloquent sign: by restoring sight to the blind man, Jesus sheds light on his life. The entire mission of Christ is full of this meaning: He casts divine light on human life through the Gospel. In the light of Christ's words, human life acquires meaning: the ultimate meaning, which also illuminates the different spheres of this earthly life.

[Pope John Paul II, homily 27 October 1991]

An invitation not to "auction off our Christian identity card", not to conform to the spirit of the world, which when it prevails leads to apostasy and persecution. Pope Francis identified this when commenting on the liturgy of the word on Monday morning, 16 November, during the customary celebration of Mass in the chapel of Casa Santa Marta.

The Pontiff dedicated his reflection entirely to the first reading, taken from the first book of Maccabees (1:10-15.41-43.54-57 62-64), summarising its contents "with three words: worldliness, apostasy, persecution". Rereading it, Francis noted "that the passage begins like this: 'In those days a perverse root came forth'". And he explained how "the image of the root that is under the ground, that is not seen, that seems to do no harm, but then grows and shows, makes one see, its own negative reality", is also present in the letter to the Hebrews, whose "author admonished his disciples in the same way: 'Let no poisonous root spring up or grow among you, that causes evils and infects so many'".

In this regard, the Pope described "the phenomenology of the root", which "grows, always grows", even when - as in the case of the passage under examination - it may appear to be a "reasonable root: "Let us go and make an alliance with the nations around us; why so many differences? Because since we separated from them, many evils have befallen us. Let us go to them, we are equal'". And so, he went on to describe, "some of the people took the initiative and went to the king who gave them power to introduce the institutions of the nations. Where? In the chosen people, that is, in the Church of that time'.

But, Francis immediately warned, in that action 'there is worldliness. We do what the world does, the same: we auction off our identity card; we are equal to all'. Just like the men of Israel, who "began to do this: they built a gymnasium in Jerusalem, according to the customs of the nations, the pagan customs; they cancelled the signs of circumcision, that is, they denied the faith, and turned away from the holy covenant; they joined the nations and sold themselves to do evil". But, the Pontiff warned, precisely 'this, which seemed so reasonable, - "we are like everyone, we are normal" - became destruction'. Because, he reiterated, 'this is worldliness. This is the path of worldliness, of that poisonous, perverse root'.

In this regard, Francis confided how he was always struck by the fact 'that the Lord, at the Last Supper, prayed for the unity of his own and asked the Father to free them from every spirit of the world, from every worldliness, because worldliness destroys identity; worldliness leads to the single thought, there is no difference'.

And the first consequence of this is apostasy. The Pope demonstrated this by continuing his rereading of the passage: "Then the king prescribed throughout his kingdom that all should form one people - single thinking, worldliness - and each should abandon his own customs. All the people complied with the king's orders; even many Israelites accepted his worship: they sacrificed to idols and profaned the Sabbath". Hence "apostasy. That is, worldliness leads to single-mindedness and apostasy. Differences are not allowed". We end up becoming "all the same. And in the history of the Church we have seen, I think of one instance, that religious festivals have had their names changed - the Lord's Christmas has another name - in order to erase identity'.

Moreover, one must not forget, the reading seems to say, that apostasy is followed by persecution. "The king," the Pontiff continued, "raised up on the altar an abomination of devastation. Even in the neighbouring cities of Judah they erected altars and burned incense on the doors of houses and in the squares; they tore up the books of the law that they could find and threw them into the fire. If, with anyone, the book of the covenant was found and if anyone obeyed the law, the sentence of the king condemned him to death". This is precisely 'persecution', which 'begins from a root' even 'small, and ends in the abomination of desolation'. After all, "this is the deception of worldliness". And therefore at the Last Supper Jesus asked the Father: "I do not ask you to take them out of the world, but keep them from the world", that is, "from this mentality, from this humanism, which comes to take the place of the true man, Jesus Christ"; from this worldliness "which comes to take away our Christian identity and leads us to the single thought: "Everyone does this, why not us?".

Here then is the relevance of today's passage, which "in these times, must make us think" about what our identity is. We must ask ourselves: "Is it Christian or worldly? Or do I call myself Christian because as a child I was baptised, or was I born in a Christian country, where everyone is Christian?" According to Francis it is necessary to find an answer to these questions, because "worldliness that enters slowly" then "grows, justifies itself and infects". How? "It grows like that root" mentioned in the reading; "it justifies itself - "let's do like all people, we are not so different" - it always seeks a justification, and in the end it infects, and so many evils come from there".

At the end of his homily, the Pope pointed out how the entire "liturgy, in these last days of the liturgical year", makes us think about these things, and in particular today he tells us "in the name of the Lord: beware of poisonous roots, of perverse roots that lead you away from the Lord and make you lose your Christian identity". In short, it is an exhortation to keep away "from worldliness" and to ask in prayer, in particular, that the Church be guarded "from all forms of worldliness. May the Church always have the identity laid out by Jesus Christ; may we all have the identity" received in baptism; "and may this identity not be thrown out" just to "be like everyone else, for reasons of 'normality'". Ultimately, Francis concluded, "may the Lord give us the grace to maintain and guard our Christian identity against the spirit of worldliness that always grows, justifies itself and infects."

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 16-17/11/2015]