[15 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Revelation (11:19a; 12:1–6a, 10a)

For the early persecuted community, the entire Book of Revelation is a message of victory, rich in imagery: the Ark of the Covenant, three figures, the woman, the dragon and the infant. 

1. The Ark of the Covenant recalls the gilded wooden chest that accompanied the people during the Exodus to Sinai, a constant reminder to Israel of the Covenant with God. That ark had been lost during the Babylonian exile; it was said that Jeremiah had hidden it on Mount Nebo (2 Maccabees 2:8), and it was believed that it would reappear at the coming of the Messiah. Now John sees it reappear: (Rev 11:19) and for him this is the sign that the end of time has come and that God’s Covenant with humanity has been definitively fulfilled. 

2. The woman, Israel and the Messiah born of the Chosen People. “Then there appeared, still in heaven, ‘a woman clothed with the sun…’” (Rev 12:1–2).  In the Old Testament, the relationship between God and Israel is often described in terms of a wedding. Hosea speaks of God’s betrothal to his people. Isaiah develops the theme of the wedding to the point of presenting the coming of the Messiah as a birth; Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and Second and Third Isaiah use the vocabulary of betrothal and marriage (Jer 2:2); (Isa 62:5). The Song of Songs, a dialogue of love in seven poems that never identifies the two lovers, is seen by the Jews as a dialogue between God and his people; for this reason, they read it on the Sabbath of Easter week, the great feast of God’s Covenant with Israel. Unfortunately, Israel was often an unfaithful bride (idolatrous: jealousy, adultery, but also reconciliation and forgiveness, for God remains faithful). Thus, the woman of Revelation represents the chosen people who give birth to the Messiah. A painful labour for Christ’s disciples facing persecution, to whom John says: ‘You are giving birth to the new humanity.’

3. The dragon: the forces of evil. The dragon lying in wait ‘before the woman to devour her newborn child’ (Rev 12:4) symbolises the battle waged by the forces of evil against God’s plan. For persecuted Christians, the word ‘dragon’ is not too strong, for it conveys the violence they face: the dragon is ‘enormous… as red as fire, with seven heads and ten horns, and on his heads seven diadems’. The heads and horns signify intelligence and strength; the diadem denotes imperial power with its very real capacity to cause harm. And indeed, he manages to drag down ‘a third of the stars of heaven and cast them to the earth’. However, it is only a third of the stars: therefore, merely a semblance of victory, and the rest of the passage will show that the power of evil is temporary. 

4. The child is the Risen Messiah. ‘She gave birth to a son, destined to rule all the nations with an iron sceptre’ (Rev 12:5). John identifies the Messiah and alludes to Psalm 2: ‘You are my Son; today I have begotten you… You shall break them with a rod of iron’ (2:7–9). ‘Shepherd’ was also a classical term used to refer to the Messiah. This is followed by the image of the child being taken up ‘to God and his throne’: a symbol of Christ’s Resurrection. This was perfectly clear to the early Christians, who were accustomed to speaking of Him as the ‘Firstborn’, now seated at the right hand of God. Yet His people remain in the world—a difficult world, but one in which they are assured of God’s protection: this is the significance of the desert, another reference to the Exodus, in which God never ceased to care for His people. Believers may take heart: if the dragon has failed in heaven, he cannot succeed on earth. The conclusion is the victory that began with the Resurrection. To the early Christians who were giving birth to a new humanity amidst the pain of persecution, the Book of Revelation proclaims victory: ‘Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God, and the authority of his Christ’ (Rev 12:10).  Ever since the Messiah rose from the dead, victory has begun.

Responsorial Psalm (44/45) 

This psalm allows us to witness the wedding ceremony of the King of Jerusalem to a young foreign princess (v. 10) to seal the covenant between two peoples. Marriages have always marked alliances between states, but for Israel the Covenant is exclusive to the one God; therefore, any foreign girl who became queen had to embrace the king’s religion. Specifically, in this psalm, the princess from Tyre must renounce her idolatrous practices to be worthy of her new people and her king: ‘Listen, my daughter; look, and give ear: forget your own people and your father’s house’ (v. 11). Solomon married pagan foreign women; Ahab married Queen Jezebel, leading to the great confrontation between the prophet Elijah and the many priests and prophets of Baal. For those who can read between the lines, this advice to the princess of Tyre is in fact addressed to Israel. The royal bridegroom described in the psalm is none other than God himself, and this ‘daughter of a king, led in all her splendour to her bridegroom’ is the people of Israel admitted into the intimacy of their God. Through the relationship between God and his people, an allusion is then made to the marriage between God and all humanity.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (15:20–27)

Here, three figures are set side by side: Mary, Jesus of Nazareth and Adam. Mary, the model of faith, is proclaimed blessed because she believed in the word of God. In her life she experienced the sorrow foretold by Simeon, yet she never ceased to trust in God. Jesus follows the same path in total trust in the Father, and everything about him is summed up in these words: ‘Father, I have come to do your will’. His resurrection demonstrates that trust in God leads to true life, which passes through suffering and death. St Paul contrasts Adam and Christ: two opposing attitudes. Adam is the man who distrusts God and wishes to decide for himself; Christ, on the other hand, represents the man who entrusts himself completely to God. According to Paul, everyone behaves like Adam when they refuse to trust in God, and for this reason all die in Adam. Whereas those who follow Christ’s example enter into true life, founded on love and communion with God. The Assumption is God’s plan for faithful humanity: Mary experienced ageing and, having left her earthly life behind, entered fully into the life of God. The Eastern tradition speaks of her Dormition as her passing into a new form of existence with God: human beings are therefore not destined to remain forever in their earthly condition but are called to a transformation. Jesus, put to death by human hatred, was raised from the dead by God and, as the first of the risen, opens the way to eternal life for all humanity. Mary and Jesus show that the path to true life is not Adam’s self-sufficiency, but trust in God 

From the Gospel according to Luke (1:39–56)

The episode of the Visitation highlights the role of Mary, the new Ark of the Covenant and model of faith. When Elizabeth says, ‘How is it that the mother of my Lord should come to me?’, the evangelist deliberately alludes to David’s transfer of the Ark of the Covenant to Jerusalem. There are numerous similarities: both the Ark and Mary journey through the hills of Judea; the Ark brings blessing to the house of Obed-Edom, whilst Mary brings joy to the house of Zechariah and Elizabeth; both remain for three months in the house that welcomes them; David dances before the Ark, whilst John the Baptist leaps for joy in his mother’s womb at the sight of Mary.

For Luke, none of this is coincidental. Mary is the new presence of God. The Ark was the sign of God’s presence amongst his people. By presenting Mary as the new Ark, Luke wishes to affirm that God is present in a unique way in the child she carries in her womb. Thus the mystery of the Incarnation is fulfilled. Mary becomes the living dwelling place of the divine presence. Elizabeth proclaims: ‘Blessed is she who has believed’; and Mary’s true greatness lies not merely in being the mother of Jesus, but in having trusted in God’s plan even without fully understanding it. In response to Elizabeth, Mary sings the Magnificat, and she does not invent new words, for it is composed of expressions drawn from the Psalms and other biblical prayers. Two lessons emerge from this. Humility: Mary does not place herself at the centre, but places herself within the tradition of faith of her people; a spirit of community: her prayer concerns not only her personal circumstances, but God’s work on behalf of the whole people. This is why Mary is presented as the new Ark of the Covenant, carrying within her God made man, whilst the Magnificat shows that every authentic vocation is not a personal privilege, but a call to serve others and the whole people of God.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

19th Sunday in Ordinary Time  (year A)   [9 August 2026]

First Reading from the First Book of Kings (19:9a, 11–13a)  

In the 9th century BC, in the Kingdom of Israel, Queen Jezebel, wife of King Ahab, introduced the worship of the god Baal in Samaria. Faced with the spread of idolatry, the prophet Elijah stands up with great zeal to defend the faith of his people. Convinced that God’s superiority must be demonstrated through signs of power, Elijah foretells a long drought and subsequently organises a contest on Mount Carmel between the priests of Baal and the God of Israel. Two altars are prepared, and it is decided that the true God will be the one who answers by sending fire from heaven. The priests of Baal pray in vain; when Elijah, however, calls upon the Lord, divine fire consumes the sacrifice. The people acknowledge the victory of the God of Israel. Nevertheless, Elijah, driven by his fervour, has the priests of Baal put to death – an act which God had not asked him to perform. When Jezebel learns of what has happened, she swears to take revenge and to kill Elijah. The prophet flees into the desert and, exhausted, comes to long for death. On his journey to Mount Horeb, he undergoes a profound inner crisis which becomes the starting point of his conversion. Elijah gradually realises that he had imagined God as a deity of strength and power, not unlike the very deities he had been fighting against. On Mount Horeb, where Moses too had once encountered God, the Lord reveals himself to him in an unexpected way. It is not in the storm, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire, but in the ‘still small voice’ The Hebrew text uses the expression: קוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה
Qôl demāmāh daqqāh. Literally, this means: qôl = voice, sound; demāmāh = silence, deep stillness, calm; daqqāh = subtle, delicate, faint. A very faithful translation might be: ‘a voice of subtle silence’, or ‘the sound of a delicate silence’.

Elijah thus discovers that true divine power is not expressed through violence, clamour or coercion, but through gentleness, patience, mercy and discretion. The account represents a fundamental stage in biblical revelation: God teaches his prophet to move from a form of religiosity based on force to a faith founded on trust and gentleness. Elijah’s great discovery is that God does not conquer through fear, but through love.

Responsorial Psalm (84/85)  Psalm 84/85 was composed almost 50 years after the return of the people of Israel from the Babylonian exile (538 BC). When the exiles returned to their land full of enthusiasm and hope, they believed that a new life was beginning, that God had wiped the slate clean and that everything could start afresh. However, reality proved more difficult than expected. Breaches of the Covenant resurfaced; conversion was not automatic; and the returnees—often born in exile or having left as young people—encountered obstacles, misunderstandings and resistance, even in the reconstruction of the Temple. For this reason, the psalmist expresses conflicting feelings. On the one hand, he gives thanks to God for bringing his people back to the Promised Land and for forgiving their sins; on the other, seeing that the difficulties persist, he wonders whether divine wrath is not still present and pleads: ‘Show us your love, Lord, and grant us your salvation’. The central theme of the psalm is the dual meaning of the verb ‘to return’: the people have already physically returned to their land, but they must still make the most important return of all – that of the heart to God. True conversion is a gift from God, but it also requires human commitment, a willingness to listen to and follow his word. This is why the psalmist declares: ‘I will listen to what the Lord says’, recognising that peace springs from trusting obedience to God. The final part of the psalm is a magnificent hymn of hope. The poet looks forward to the day when God’s plan will be fully realised: ‘Love and truth shall meet; justice and peace shall kiss’. This is not a naïve dream, but the certainty that God is guiding history towards a future of reconciliation, brotherhood and peace amongst humankind. 

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (9:1–5)

In chapters 9–11 of the Letter to the Romans, Saint Paul addresses an issue particularly close to his heart: if many Jews have not recognised Jesus Christ as the Messiah, does this perhaps mean that God has rejected his people? Paul is well aware of this problem because he himself, before his conversion on the road to Damascus, had been a strict Jew and even a persecutor of Christians. After his encounter with Christ, he realised that the Christian faith does not contradict the faith of Israel, but rather fulfils it. However, the majority of the Jewish people do not accept this conviction and, indeed, often oppose Paul’s preaching. This gives rise to his question: if Israel does not recognise the Messiah, is it perhaps excluded from the Covenant? And if God were to revoke his promises to Israel, how could Christians trust in his faithfulness? To answer this, Paul traces the entire course of sacred history. He recalls that Israel has received unique gifts: adoption as God’s children, the glory of his presence, the covenants, the Law, worship, the promises, the patriarchs and even the privilege that the Messiah should be born of his people. The whole of biblical history bears witness to God’s irrevocable commitment to Israel. Paul’s conclusion is clear: God has not abandoned the Jewish people. His promises are definitive, because God is faithful to himself. The Covenant has not been annulled. For Paul, the rejection of Jesus by many Jews remains a mystery, but it does not call into question the election of Israel. This final certainty is expressed in a decisive statement: ‘God remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself’ (2 Tim 2:13). The central message of the text is therefore that God’s faithfulness is stronger than human unfaithfulness. 

From the Gospel according to Matthew (14:22–33)

This Gospel episode takes place immediately after the feeding of the five thousand. After feeding the crowd, Jesus Christ instructs the disciples to leave and goes up the mountain alone to pray. On the one hand, his mission cannot stop at the success of the moment; on the other, Jesus wishes to avoid the risk of triumphalism and spectacle, a temptation he had already faced in the desert. Prayer enables him to remain in deep communion with the Father and to discern the path to follow. Meanwhile, the disciples’ boat is being tossed about by the waves of the Sea of Tiberias. During the night, they see a figure walking on the water and, terrified, think it is a ghost. But Jesus reassures them with words that run through the entire Gospel: ‘Take heart! It is I; do not be afraid.’ At that point, Peter, trusting in the Master’s voice, asks to be allowed to go to him by walking on the water. Jesus simply replies: ‘Come.’ Peter then accomplishes the impossible and walks on the water, but when he takes his eyes off Jesus and focuses on the force of the wind, he is overcome by fear and begins to sink. In this action, Peter represents every disciple: generous and sincere in his enthusiasm, yet fragile when put to the test. His fall does not stem from a lack of love, but from doubt and fear. Nevertheless, he makes the right choice: he cries out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Jesus reaches out his hand, seizes him and brings him to safety, asking him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’ The story teaches us that faith consists in keeping our gaze fixed on Christ even when difficulties seem to overwhelm us. Our frailties, doubts and even our failures are not the final word: what matters is that we continue to call upon his help. When Jesus steps into the boat, the wind dies down and the disciples come to understand more deeply who he is. They fall down before him and proclaim: ‘Truly, you are the Son of God.’ The central message of the passage is that the life of faith alternates between moments of strength and moments of weakness, as happened to Peter. But whenever a person is in danger of sinking, they can entrust themselves to Christ, and God’s hand is always ready to sustain them.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

The Transfiguration of the Lord (year A)  [6 August 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Daniel (7:9–10, 13–14) 

The text recounts a vision of the prophet Daniel, written during the persecution of the Jews by Antiochus IV Epiphanes in the 2nd century BC. Its purpose is to encourage and console the suffering people. Daniel first sees God, depicted as an ‘Ancient of Days’ seated on a throne of fire, surrounded by millions of servants. It is an image of justice and victory: God is about to judge the persecutors and bring justice to the faithful. Next, the ‘Son of Man’ appears; he is brought before God on the clouds of heaven and receives power, glory and an eternal kingdom. It resembles a scene of a messianic coronation.

Who is the Son of Man? The explanation given in the text of Daniel itself is surprising: the Son of Man does not initially represent a single person, but the ‘people of the saints of the Most High’, that is, Israel faithful to God, especially that small group which remains faithful during persecution. The message is therefore clear: today you are oppressed, but God will grant you victory and his Kingdom will be eternal. After their deliverance from persecution, many Jews continued to interpret this prophecy as referring to the future. Some began to await not an individual Messiah, but a collective Messiah: the faithful people of Israel, called precisely the ‘Son of Man’. And here is the new insight brought by Jesus. Jesus of Nazareth takes up the title ‘Son of Man’, but gives it a deeper meaning: it does not simply refer to ‘a man’, but to the whole of humanity; Jesus applies it to himself more than eighty times in the Gospels; he unites two aspects that were separate in Daniel: glory and suffering. For Jesus, the Son of Man is not merely the glorious King who receives the Kingdom, but also the one who suffers, is rejected and dies before entering into glory. After the Resurrection, the disciples realise that Jesus is both man and God. He is the head of a new humanity, and all those united to him form one body. Therefore, Daniel’s prophecy is fully fulfilled in Christ and in his people: believers are called to share in his kingship and his glory.

This, then, is the central message: God created humanity to share in his dignity and his Kingdom. Suffering and persecution do not have the final say: the ultimate destiny of the faithful is to share in God’s victory and his eternal kingdom.

Responsorial Psalm (96/97) 

A constant struggle against idolatry: this could be the commentary on Psalm 96/97 (‘The Lord reigns’) to highlight a fundamental theme of the Bible: the constant struggle against idolatry and the affirmation that there is only one God.

When the psalm proclaims: ‘The Lord is King; let the earth rejoice’, it affirms that God is the one true sovereign of the universe. The expressions: ‘You reign above all gods; let all gods bow down before him’, do not mean that there are other inferior gods, but that all false deities and idols are nothing in the face of the one God of Israel.

In the Jewish faith, the fundamental principle is: ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is the one and only Lord.’ Israel always lived in close contact with polytheistic peoples and was often tempted to adopt their cults. For this reason, the prophets denounced the people’s unfaithfulness, comparing it to that of a wife who betrays her husband. However, alongside their rebuke, they always proclaimed God’s forgiveness and mercy. The text recalls that the first chapter of the Book of Genesis was written in contrast to the religious beliefs of Babylon. Whilst Babylonian myths spoke of many gods fighting amongst themselves and of humanity created to be slaves, the Bible affirms that: there is only one God;  creation is good; man and woman are created in the image of God; human beings are called to rule over creation and not to be its slaves. Even the sun and the moon are not named, to prevent them from being worshipped as deities: they are simply ‘luminaries’ in the service of life. God, Lord of the universe, and the psalm describes God’s manifestation with majestic imagery: fire, lightning, clouds, earthquakes, mountains melting like wax. These images recall Moses’ theophany on Mount Sinai and serve to demonstrate divine power and majesty. A universal message of joy emerges, and the expression ‘The Lord is King; let the earth rejoice’

means that God’s kingdom concerns not only Israel, but all humanity.

Indeed, the Bible always combines two ideas: the election of Israel and the salvation intended for all peoples. God’s plan is universal and oriented towards joy, justice and peace. Finally, the psalm invites us to believe that God guides history towards a future of peace and happiness for all. Even when the world seems dominated by wars, violence and injustice, the believer is called to maintain hope and to work together so that God’s plan may be realised. The commentary’s final observation is very practical: peace and joy are possible, but we must truly desire them. In other words, it is not enough simply to wait for God to intervene: we must also commit ourselves personally to building a more just and fraternal world.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (1:16–19)

The central theme of this passage could be summarised as follows: ‘Remain steadfast in the faith and beware of false prophets’, which may be regarded as Peter’s spiritual testament. The Second Letter of Peter resembles a farewell address: as he is about to depart, the one who is leaving recalls the fundamental truths that have inspired him and offers guidance for the future to those who have gathered around his testimony.  The verses presented here serve as an introduction to the entire letter and summarise its main themes: 1) remain steadfast in your faith in Jesus Christ, the Son of God; 2) beware of false prophets. All this without losing sight of the horizon of faith: the hope of Christ’s return. Above all: remain steadfast in your faith in Jesus, the Son of God.  At the time of Jesus’ birth, it would never have occurred to anyone that God could have a Son; the one God was solitary. When John the Baptist heard the voice from heaven designating Jesus as the Son, he certainly interpreted it as ‘Messiah’; for, traditionally, the king of Israel received the title ‘Son of God’ on the day of his coronation, with the words ‘You are my Son; today I have begotten you’ (Ps 2:7). For Jewish believers, to call oneself the Son of God was a lie, a claim to authority, or even blasphemy. It was one of the reasons for Jesus’ condemnation (Mark 14:64). Gradually, much later, as they meditated on the mystery of Christ in the light of the Resurrection, the apostles discovered this unexpected truth: Jesus is truly the Son of God; he is God. The event of the Transfiguration now appears in full light: Christ ‘received honour and glory from God the Father; a voice came to him from the majestic glory: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”’  

Now, throughout the Old Testament, glory is the prerogative of God: for example, ‘Give to the Lord the glory due to his name’ (Ps 28/29:2) . Yet, according to Matthew and Mark, the voice from heaven at the Transfiguration said nothing different from what it said at the Baptism; what changes is precisely the glory that envelops Jesus at the Transfiguration: he is alone on the mountain, surrounded only by the two greatest figures of the Old Testament; at the Baptism he was immersed in the crowd, mingled with the people of sinners. It is the same Jesus whom the disciples have come to know little by little—the Son of Man, certainly, but also the Son of God. Moreover, this faith does not betray their previous faith. For the disciples, this renewed faith is not a betrayal of their past faith: none of them thinks they have changed religion by recognising in Jesus the Messiah so long awaited by his people. On the contrary, by re-reading the Scriptures, they discover that Jesus is precisely the one whom they foretold.  

Hence Peter’s words: ‘Thus we have confirmation of the prophetic word’, and his advice to the readers: ‘You would do well to pay close attention to it, as to a lamp shining in a dark place.’ A beautiful image: in the darkness of humanity awaiting its Saviour, the light of the prophets is already shining. From now on, Christians must always remember this Word that foretold Jesus. Another important point: beware of false prophets. If Peter speaks in this way, it is because his fear was not unfounded, and many passages in the New Testament express the same concern. For example, 

we read in the Gospel of Matthew: ‘Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves. ‘You will recognise them by their fruits’ (7:15–16).  The same issue recurs in John’s letters: ‘Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world’ (1 John 4:1).  And Paul also speaks of this: “The Spirit plainly states that in the last days some will fall away from the faith, following deceiving spirits and the teachings of demons” (1 Tim 4:1); “The time will come when people will no longer endure sound teaching, but, having an itch to hear something, they will gather around themselves a multitude of teachers… and turn to myths” (2 Tim 4:3–4).  Faced with these false prophets stand the authentic witnesses, those who have known Jesus of Nazareth and who alone have the right to speak. This concern for the authenticity of witness is a constant theme among the first apostles, and in Peter in particular. Hence the conditions for choosing Judas’s replacement (cf. Acts 1:21–22). Hence, too, Peter’s insistence on his presence at the Transfiguration: “We were eyewitnesses of his majesty… We ourselves heard this voice coming from heaven whilst we were with him on the holy mountain”.  It is because they were witnesses to the coming of the Son of God amongst men that his apostles can now, with full confidence, await his coming at the end of time ‘until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts’ (2 Peter 1:19).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (17:1–9)

Two essential points emerge from this text: the choice of witnesses and the Mount of the Transfiguration: Jesus took Peter, James and his brother John with him: once again we are faced with the mystery of God’s choices. Shortly before, at Caesarea, Jesus had said to Peter: ‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it’ (Mt 16:18). But Peter, entrusted with this crucial mission, is not alone with Jesus: he is accompanied by the two brothers, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. ‘And he led them aside to a high mountain’: on a high mountain, Moses had received the revelation of the God of the Covenant and had been given the tablets of the Law—that law which was to gradually teach the people of the Covenant to live in the love of God and of their brothers and sisters. On that same mountain, Elijah had received the revelation of the God of tenderness in the gentle breeze… Moses and Elijah, the two pillars of the Old Testament. On the high mountain of the Transfiguration, Peter, James and John—the pillars of the Church—receive the revelation of the God of tenderness incarnate in Jesus: ‘This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ And this revelation is given to strengthen their faith before the storm of the Passion. Peter would later write: ‘We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we were eyewitnesses of his majesty’ (2 Peter 1:16–18).  ‘Let us make three tents’: this remark by Peter suggests that the episode of the Transfiguration took place during the Feast of Tabernacles, or at least within the atmosphere of the feast celebrated in remembrance of the journey through the desert during the Exodus and of the Covenant made with God. During the feast, many psalms celebrated the messianic promises and implored God to hasten his coming. On the Mount of the Transfiguration, the three apostles suddenly find themselves faced with this revelation of the mystery of Jesus: it is hardly surprising that they are seized by the fear that grips every person in the presence of the holy God. Nor is it surprising that Jesus lifts their spirits and reassures them: the Old Testament had already revealed to the people of the Covenant that the Most Holy God is the God who is very close to humankind, and that there is no cause for fear. But this revelation of the mystery of the Messiah, in all its aspects, is not yet within everyone’s grasp; Jesus commands them not to tell anyone for the time being, until the Son of Man has risen from the dead. By uttering these words, Jesus confirms the revelation the three disciples have just received: he is truly the Messiah whom the prophet Daniel saw in the likeness of a man, coming on the clouds of heaven (cf. Dan 7:13–14). It should be remembered that Daniel himself presents the Son of Man not as a solitary individual, but as a people, whom he calls the people of the saints of the Most High. The fulfilment is even more beautiful than the promise: in Jesus, the God-Man, it is the whole of humanity that will receive this eternal kingship and be eternally transfigured. But Jesus was right to say: ‘Tell no one anything before the Resurrection…’ Only after Jesus’ resurrection will the apostles be able to bear witness to it.

Note: The Greek text begins with ‘Six days later’: this is understood to mean ‘six days after Yom Kippur’, the Day of Atonement. It invites us to imagine a connection with the Feast of Tabernacles, hence Peter’s suggestion: ‘Let us make three tents here.’ Furthermore, why are Moses and Elijah present? The very same two who received the revelation of the Father on Mount Sinai now receive the revelation of the Son here. The mosaic in the Basilica of the Transfiguration at St Catherine’s Monastery in Sinai confirms this interpretation: Moses is depicted barefoot, his sandals untied beside him, as he was before the burning bush (cf. Ex 3).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Jn 12:24-26 (20-26)

«If the grain of wheat fallen to the ground does not die, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit» [Jn 12:24].

We ask ourselves: how is it possible in any situation to sprout precious things? How to become fruitful?

And the pleasure of living? Can we experience at least brief moments of eternity?

In advancing the spiritual journey, we discover that it is not enough to be far from idols: we desire to take successive steps.

We want fullness and joy; do not be suffocated in tasks without enchantment, in mechanisms without lyrical step.

Is Christ really capable of providing our existence with a wing stroke,  exploding life - managing commitments differently, and wincing with happiness?

Or does he definitively dig us the grave, with his Hiding … which seems an option of death?

We would like to deepen, and maybe from simple admirers become Apostles - involved in the lively and growing secret of Jesus.

The best way to «see» the Lord [v.21b - that is, to understand and experience his Life-generating Face] seems to approach a natural process. And the image is taken from the agricultural world.

In order for wheat to sprout in a field, it is necessary that the grains disappear into the earth.

Only from a transmutation can the prodigy of a process of new genesis blossom, and that birth that extends to the ‘hundred for one’.

The stakes are staggering: life does not develop starting from some (artificial) purpose but from the very ‘nature’ of the Seed that has a whole particular vitality inside.

To achieve what characterizes us, success or the ability to become "directors" of oneself has nothing to do with it. Indeed, perhaps it is better to learn to wait, and act slowly, harboring the Sap that ‘comes’.

Nor can we manage with a substitute religious observance, which often [trying to put things right, instantly, outside] is transformed into a reservoir of intimate discomfort and neurosis.

Vocational growth in fullness of person and being, contrasts every opinion far from the Roots of essence and its metamorphoses.

Based on his own experience, Jesus means:

Life partner of the prophet who corresponds to his "absurd" Calling is loneliness, being in the corner, not being sought - and feeling treated as inadequate, dishonourable or failed (precisely by experts and people of rank).

It is not expected that we can take care of this type of frank practice with ourselves, with God and men, taking shortcuts of cotton candy: we must meet our own and others "low floors".

The path of fatuous relationships - facade, often suffered and of overweight - will never correspond to us.

That’s right: we will go straight to the goal only by entering a new normality, and remaining focused on our authentic plot, where the Call of God lurks.

Here bitter situations will prove to be transitory.

And if in the meantime we have not let go because of some lack of recognition or belonging, history will find us somewhere else.

But let us continually beware of unevangelical spiritual proposals - precisely, lacking in re-Births.

The wise dimension of the «dying Grain» is not about voluntarism and self-control, which will disconcert us within, diminishing the sacred Oneness of soul and Vocation.

Manners discipline that takes as its 'model' the already established [and “how we should be”] will only baffle us; it will make us sick!

Excessive control, in fact, in every concrete circumstance will diminish our special inclination of varied being, will bleed the personal Mystery, and the growing flowering of new Life.

Instead, the Lord wants us to be ready to re-create ourselves and regenerate the world - even in times of global crisis.

[St Lawrence,  August 10]

(Jn 12:20-33)

"If the grain of wheat that falls to the ground does not die, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" [Jn 12:24].

We ask ourselves: how is it possible in any situation to make precious things sprout? What is the best way to take care of oneself? How can one become fruitful without shrinking one's living space?

What draws its own sap even from traumas, discomforts, failures, or what does not leave us calm? What about the pleasure of living? Can we experience at least brief moments of eternity?

Is Christ really able to give our existence a shot in the arm, make life explode - manage commitments differently, and revel in happiness?

Or does he definitively dig our grave, with his Hiding (which seems to be a death option)?

We are already widely introduced, but perhaps we do not feel aware enough: we would like to go deeper, and perhaps from being mere admirers become Apostles - involved in Jesus' spirited and growing secret.

In advancing on the spiritual journey, we discover that it is not enough to be far from idols and celebrate faith: we desire to take further steps (vv.20-22), to experience immense gifts.

We want fullness, expansion, joy; not to be suffocated in tasks without enchantment, in mechanisms without lyrical step.

And enter into the Faith that is already non-compulsive love - thus accessing integral salvation.

We desire to be in wholeness - and that of the grain of wheat that rots by becoming the vessel of perfect wholeness is not an invitation to accumulate labours, nor to (intimist or cathartic) dolorismo, but to total luxuriance.

In short, there is a crisis between attachment to the established and approved self, and discipleship without those anxieties within. Discipleship that leads to fulfilled joy: seeing oneself develop, expand, flourish - manifesting one's entire life-wave in a new form.

Jn presents the first contact of the already believers with foreigners by bringing in 'Greeks' who had arrived in Jerusalem to go up to the Temple for the great feast of Passover.

Perhaps they wished to "see Jesus" as the star of the moment - but in Him they encounter a gift proposal at the antipodes of the Hellenist conception. The contrast in the background of the episode is sharp.

In Greece, the term 'aristoi' was coined to indicate successful people, who stood out from the rest: the best. They were the outstanding, those who achieved prestige, fame, visibility, substantial honours.

The Master removes the veil of [even then ecclesiastical] insipient illusions. He considers this ideal of life insipid.

And he explains what Glory consists of: 'falling to the ground' - so that it is the latter and its hidden energies that regenerate our and others' destinies.

In short, in every person there are dormant forces waiting - even if one does not want to admit them.

They demand their own way; not models. As such, they are only released when we do not rush to fix things as they 'should be'.

We sometimes feel the unconscious wanting an evolution; but the unexpressed faces do not emerge... the primordial virtues remain stifled.

Perhaps even in the time of global crisis we pretend to continue like this, to float on procedures, disinterested in Life as source - undisguised, in the round and without sequins.

Those who still think conformistically remain in the enclosure... which has become the grave of the soul.

He retreats into fatuous glory, remains at a safe distance from other possibilities, and loses the self that gives rise to the future.

In fact, the Tao Tê Ching (xxviii) says: "He who knows himself to be glorious and keeps himself in ignominy, is the valley of the world; being the valley of the world, virtue always stops in him, and he returns to being crude. When that which is crude is cut off, then they make instruments of it; when the holy man uses it, then he makes himself the first among ministers".

The best way to "see" the Lord [v.21b - that is, to understand and experience his life-giving Face] seems to be to approach a natural process.

And the evangelical image is taken from the agricultural world.

For ears of grain to sprout in a field, it is necessary for the grains to disappear into the earth, slipping into oblivion.

Only from a transmutation (without resistance) can the prodigy blossom: a process of new genesis and development, and that birth that brings the hundredfold [genesis well expanded, e.g. by comparison with the petty hopes of a social role].

The stakes are staggering: it seems paradoxical, but life does not develop from some contrived purpose, but from the very nature of the seed, which has a special vitality within.

To realise what characterises us, success or the ability to make oneself 'director' has nothing to do with it.On the contrary, perhaps it is better to learn to wait, and to act slowly, accommodating the sap that comes - rather than hastily becoming people 'with' considerable social standing.

Nor can we get away with setting up a substitute religious observance that does not correspond to us and that we do not want, which often [trying to put things right, instantly, on the outside] turns into a reservoir of inner discomfort and neurosis.

Activated by the paradoxical Mystery, which calls by Name, step by step and wisely, we are invited to respect real processes and overall developments.

Missional growth in fullness of personality and being is all natural - and only in this way does it counteract oppositions, or rather seize them as opportunities that ignite the path, and appropriately divert it.

Our development is global growth.

It counteracts every false inner voice or outer power: heterodirected inclinations - aimed at appearance. [Rushing to be recognised at first sight... all cheap opinions; far from the roots of essence and metamorphosis].

Based on his own experience, Jesus means:

Life companion of the Prophet who corresponds to his own 'absurd' Calling is not the d'emblée (static, of self) affirmation that gives no room for the unexpressed dream.

Rather, it is the loneliness, the standing in the corner, the not being sought after - and feeling treated as inadequate, dishonourable or failed (by the very experts and people of rank).

This kind of frank practice with oneself, God and men is not to be done by taking candyfloss shortcuts: one has to meet our own and others' 'downsides'.

The path of fatuous relationships - of façade, often suffered and overweight - will never match us.

That's right: we will only go straight to the goal by entering into a new normal: to turn over a new leaf, remaining focused on our authentic character pattern, where God's unpredictable call to freedom instinct lurks.

Bitter situations will prove transient.

And if in the meantime we have not let go because of some lack of recognition or belonging, history will find us somewhere else.

But let us continually beware of spiritual proposals that are not very evangelical - indeed, lacking in re-birth.

The wise dimension of the 'Dying Grain' is not about voluntarism and self-control, which will baffle us inside, diminishing the sacred Oneness of soul and Vocation.

Discipline of manner that takes as its 'model' the already established [and "how we should be"] will only pass on lacerations; it will make us sick!

Excessive control in fact, in every concrete circumstance will dampen our exceptional inclination to be varied, will bleed the personal Mystery, and the growing flowering of New Life.

Instead, the Lord wants us ready to recreate ourselves and regenerate the world - even in times of global crisis.

In short, 'adequate' expectations are double-edged weapons, absurd alibis; clouded ideals - produced by artifice. Without any Mystery breathing within.

Those who hand over their reputations seem to rot, yet (like Jesus) will find immensity of harvest.

The Sign of the Bread helps us to be under no illusions: the disciples' ministry is not to shut itself away, not even to narrate external admiration and remain in the den - but to make it 'seen'.

Even in times of overall upheaval.

To internalise and live the message:

In what do you recognise the trammels of life, or to what do you accord the highest honour?

The Gospel, from the 12th chapter of John which I would like to try to explain, is also a Gospel of hope. At the same time, it is a Gospel of the Cross. These two dimensions always go together. Since the Gospel refers to the Cross it speaks of hope and, since it gives hope, it must speak of the Cross.

John tells us that Jesus was going up to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover and then he says: "Among those who went up to worship... were some Greeks". Without any doubt they were members of the group called phoboumenoi ton Theon, the "God-fearing", who, going beyond the polytheism of their world, were seeking the authentic God who is truly God, the one God to whom the whole world belongs and who is the God of all mankind. And they had found that God, whom they were seeking and asking for, and for whom every human being is silently yearning, in the Bible of Israel, recognizing him as that God who created the world. He is the God of all men and women and, at the same time, he chose a specific people and place in which to be present among us. They were searching for God and they came to Jerusalem to worship the one God, to know something of his mystery. Furthermore, the Evangelist tells us that these people, having heard talk of Jesus, approached Philip the Apostle who came from Bethsaida, in half of which Greek is spoken and said:  "We wish to see Jesus". Their desire to know God impels them to want to see Jesus and through him to become more closely acquainted with God. "We wish to see Jesus":  we are moved by these words since we all long ever more ardently to see and to know him. I think there are two reasons why these Greeks interest us:  on the one hand their situation is the same as ours; we too are pilgrims asking about God, in search of God. And we too would like to know Jesus better and truly to see him. Yet it is also true that, like Philip and Andrew, we should be Jesus' friends, friends who know him and can show others the way that leads to him. I therefore think that at this time we should pray like this:  Lord, help us to be people journeying towards you. Lord, grant that we may see you ever more clearly. Help us to be your friends, who open to others the door to you. Whether or not this effectively led to an encounter between Jesus and those Greeks, St John does not tell us. Jesus' answer, which he does report to us, goes far beyond that chance moment. It is a twofold response. He speaks of the glorification of Jesus that was then beginning:  "The hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified" (Jn 12: 23). The Lord explains this concept of glorification with the Parable of the Grain of Wheat:  "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" (v. 24). Indeed the grain of wheat must die, it must sink in the ground in order to absorb energy from the earth and thus develop a stem and become an ear of wheat. With regard to the Lord, this is the parable of his own mystery. He himself is the grain of wheat which came from God, the divine grain that lets itself fall to the ground, that lets itself sink, be broken down in death and precisely by so doing germinates and can thus bear fruit in the immensity of the world. It is not merely a fleeting encounter with some person or another. Now, as the Risen One, he is "new" and goes beyond the limits of space and time. Now, he truly reaches the Greeks. Now, he shows himself to them and speaks to them and they speak to him; so it is that faith is born. The Church grows from all peoples, the community of the Risen Jesus Christ which will become his living Body, the ear of the grain of wheat. In this parable we also find a reference to the mystery of the Eucharist. He, who is the grain of wheat, falls to the ground and dies.

In this manner the holy multiplication of the "loaves" [bread] of the Eucharist comes about, in which he becomes Bread for the people of all times and places.

What the Lord says of himself here in this Christological parable is applied to us in two other verses:  "He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life" (v. 25). I think that when we first hear this we do not like it. We would like to say to the Lord:  "But what are you telling us, Lord? Must we even hate our life? Isn't our life a gift of God? Haven't we been created in his image and likeness? Shouldn't we be grateful and glad that he has given us life?". However, Jesus' words have another meaning. Of course the Lord has given us life and we are grateful for this. Gratitude and joy are fundamental attitudes of Christian life. Yes, we can be happy because we know that each of our lives comes from God. It is not a chance without meaning. I am wanted and loved. When Jesus says we must hate our life he means quite the opposite. He is thinking here of two fundamental attitudes. One is the attitude of wanting to keep my life selfishly, which is why I consider my life as my own property; I consider myself as my own property, which is why I want to make the very most of this life so as to live a full life, living for myself. Whoever does this, whoever lives for himself and thinks of and desires only himself, does not find himself but is lost. What the Lord tells us is precisely the opposite:  not seizing life but giving it. And it is not that in seizing life for ourselves that we receive it, but in giving it, in going beyond ourselves not in looking at ourselves but rather in giving ourselves to the other in the humility of love, giving our life to him and to others. Thus we become rich, distancing ourselves from ourselves, freeing ourselves from ourselves. It is by giving, and not by seizing life that we truly receive life.

[Pope Benedict, visit to the Lutheran Church in Rome 14 March 2010]

1. These words were spoken by the Lord Jesus as he thought of his own death. He himself first of all is that “grain of wheat” which “falls on the ground and dies”. The Son of God, of the same substance as the Father, God from God and Light from Light, was made man. He entered into the life of ordinary men and women as the son of the Virgin Mary of Nazareth. And finally he accepted death on the Cross as the sacrifice for the sins of the world. Precisely in this way the grain of wheat dies and yields a rich harvest. It is the harvest of the Redemption of the world, the harvest of the salvation of souls, the power of truth and love as the beginning of eternal life in God.

In this way the parable of the grain of wheat helps us to understand the very mystery of Christ.

2. At the same time, the grain of wheat that “falls on the ground and dies” becomes the pledge of bread. A man harvests from his fields the heads of grain which have grown from the single grain and, transforming the collected grains into flour, he makes bread from it as food for his own body. In this way Christ’s parable about the grain of wheat helps us to understand the mystery of the Eucharist.

In fact, at the Last Supper, Christ took bread in his own hands, blessed it and said these words over it: “Take this, all of you, and eat it: this is my body which will be given up for you”. And the broken Bread which had become in a sacramental way his own Body he distributed to the Apostles.

In a similar way he brought about the transubstantiation of the wine into his own Blood, and distributing it to the Apostles, said: “Take this, all of you, and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all men so that sins may be forgiven”. And then he added: “Do this in memory of me”.

3. This is how the mystery of Christ remains among us through the Sacrament of the Eucharist. The mystery of the Redeemer of the world who gave himself up for us all, offering his Body and Blood in the Sacrifice of the Cross. Thanks to the Eucharist the words of our Redeemer are fulfilled: “I will not leave you orphans; I will come back to you” (Io. 14, 18).

In this Sacrament he is always coming to us. We are not orphans. He is with us!

In the Eucharist he also brings us his peace, and he helps us to overcome our weaknesses and fears. It is just as he had foretold: “Peace I bequeath to you, my own peace I give you, a peace the world cannot give, this is my gift to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid” (Io. 14, 27).

And hence, from the beginning, the disciples and witnesses of our Crucified and Risen Lord “remained faithful to the teaching of the apostles, to the brotherhood, to the breaking of bread and to the prayers” (Act. 2, 42).

They remained faithful “to the breaking of bread”. In other words, the Eucharist constituted the very centre of their life, the centre of the life of the Christian community, the centre of the life of the Church.

Thus it was at the beginning in Jerusalem. Thus it has been everywhere, wherever faith in the Gospel together with the teaching of the Apostles has been introduced. From generation to generation it has been so among different peoples and nations. Thus it has also been on the African continent since the Gospel first reached these lands through the missionaries, and since it produced its first fruits in a community assembled to celebrate the Eucharist […]

8. To feed and clothe and care for each child requires much sacrifice and hard work. In addition, parents have the duty of educating their children. As the Second Vatican Council says: “Their role as educators is so decisive that scarcely anything can compensate for their failure in it. For it devolves on parents to create a family atmosphere so animated with love and reverence for God and others that a well-rounded personal and social development will be fostered among the children. Hence, the family is the first school of those social virtues which every society needs” (Gravissimum Educationis, 3).

9. Prayer is essential to the life of every Christian, but family prayer has its own special character. Since it is a form of shared prayer, it has to be shaped and adapted according to the size and make-up of each family. Few activities influence a family more deeply than their prayer together. Prayer fosters reverence for God and respect for one another. It places joys and sorrows, hopes and disappointments, every event and circumstance, within the perspective of God’s mercy and providence. Family prayer opens the heart of each member to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and helps the family to be more united in itself, yet more ready to serve the Church and society.

[Pope John Paul II, from homily in Nairobi, 18 August 1985]

Today's Gospel [...] narrates an episode which took place in the last days of Jesus’ life. The scene takes place in Jerusalem where he finds himself for the feast of the Jewish Passover. Several Greeks had also arrived there for this celebration. These men were driven by religious sentiment, attracted by the faith of the Jewish People and, having heard of this great prophet, they approach Philip, one of the 12 Apostles, and say to him: “we wish to see Jesus” (v. 21). John highlights this sentence, that is centred on the verb to see, which in the evangelical lexicon means to go beyond appearances in order to comprehend the mystery of a person. The verb John uses, “to see”, means to reach the depths of the heart, to reach through sight, with understanding, the depths of a person’s soul, within the person.

Jesus’ reaction is surprising. He does not answer with a “yes” or with a “no” but says: “The hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified” (v. 23). These words which at first glance appear to ignore the question of those Greeks, in reality provide the true response because those who seek to know Jesus must look within the Cross where his glory is revealed; to look within the Cross. Today’s Gospel invites us to turn our gaze to the Crucifix which is not an ornamental object or a clothing accessory — abused at times! Rather, it is a religious symbol to contemplate and to understand. Within the image of Jesus crucified is revealed the mystery of the death of the Son as a supreme act of love, the source of life and salvation for humanity of all ages. We have been healed in his wounds.

I may think: “How do I look at the Crucifix? As a work of art, to see if it is beautiful or not? Or do I look within; do I penetrate Jesus’ wounds unto the depths of his heart? Do I look at the mystery of God who was humiliated unto death, like a slave, like a criminal?”. Do not forget this: look to the Crucifix, but look within it. There is a beautiful devotional way of praying one “Our Father” for each of the five wounds. When we pray that “Our Father”, we are trying to enter within, through the wounds of Jesus, inside his very heart. And there we will learn the great wisdom of the mystery of Christ, the great wisdom of the Cross.

And in order to explain the meaning of his death and Resurrection, Jesus uses an image and says: “unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (v. 24). He wants to explain that his extreme fate — that is the Cross, death and Resurrection — is an act of fruitfulness — his wounds have healed us — a fruitfulness which will bear fruit for many. He thus compares himself to a grain of wheat which, rotting in the earth, generates new life. Jesus came to earth through the Incarnation, but this is not enough. He must also die to redeem man from the slavery of sin and to offer him a new life reconciled in love. I said “to redeem man”: but to redeem me, you, all of us, each of us. He paid that price. This is the mystery of Christ. Go towards his wounds, enter, contemplate, see Jesus — but from within.

And this dynamism of the grain of wheat which was accomplished in Jesus must also take place within us, his disciples. We are called to take on the Paschal law of losing life in order to receive it renewed and eternal. And what does losing life mean? That is, what does it mean to be the grain of wheat? It means to think less about oneself, about personal interests and to know how to “see” and to meet the needs of our neighbours, especially the least of them. To joyfully carry out works of charity towards those who suffer in body and spirit is the most authentic way of living the Gospel. It is the necessary foundation upon which our communities can grow in reciprocal fraternity and welcome. I want to see Jesus, but from within. Penetrate his wounds and contemplate that love in his heart for you, for you, for you, for me, for everyone.

May the Virgin Mary who, from the manger in Bethlehem to the Cross on Calvary, has always kept her heart’s gaze fixed on her Son, help us to meet and know him just as he desires so that we may live enlightened by Him and bring to the world fruits of justice and peace.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 18 March 2018]