Without stopping in the middle, and the new torch

(Mal 3:1-4; Heb 2:14-18; Lk 2:22-40)

Forty days after Christmas, the Liturgy proposes to us to meet again the Child Jesus, who appeals unceasingly.

In the meantime, it may be that the joy of that Feast of Light has faded; that more stars have caught our attention.

Perhaps we have once again allowed ourselves to be caught up in gargantuan and other stars, more bursting or venal - reflecting inferior and common dreams

The context of the First Reading is heartbreaking: the priests had reduced the temple to a bank; the professional worshippers were acting as functionaries, disinterested in sincere adherence.

That Child is a reminder that God ceaselessly comes with his smoldering fire (Mal 3:2-3) not only to work a purification, an improvement, an enhancement, a mending, a mending, a parenthesis.

It does not burst in to make the same reality more current, or the identical formal and condescending contents more sympathetic. It comes to replace them.

It does not come to refine, but to open up. It comes not to affect, but to supplant. Not to bless tamed situations, but to denounce them.

Perhaps He comes to return us to the "ancient days", to the "distant years" - but not as imagined by Mal 3:4 - but to fly over the same swamp of the usual religion, the one with its head always turned back to investigate the past.

Nor does he advocate abstract, disembodied figures that distract attention; even if they were fashionable ['current' but evasive or personally oppressive, incapable of igniting reality from within].

Henceforth he manifests himself living, opening wide the doors of our sanctuary - no longer "subject to bondage for life" (Heb 2:15; Second Reading).

"For he cares not for the angels" (Heb 2:16), always available but without any instances of precisely personal impetus - without natural passions, lacking in independence - and with his brain always there, in the sacred.

The Gospel passage from Lk recounts the Father's surprising response to the predictions of fulfilment regarding the messianic prophecies.

An eloquent and peremptory manifestation of the power of the God of Israel and the submission of those who did not fulfil the Law was expected.

Everyone imagined that they would witness the triumphal entry of a leader - surrounded by military leaders or angelic hosts (Mal 3:1) - who would subjugate the pagans by bringing their possessions into the holy city, grant the chosen people many slaves, and enforce observance.

Jesus? Here he is in the Temple, but helpless; accompanied by insignificant people. No one notices them, although at all hours the holy place is swarming with visitors.

It is not enough to be pious and devout people to realise the presence of Christ - to see God himself, one's brothers, things, with the eyes of the Father.

How do we break through the wall of closed customs - how do we break through the artificial world of contrary appearances, to turn to the creative Unknown?

Lk answers: with the help of particularly sensitive people, capable of understanding the New Project.

They are those who do not set trivial intentions or current dreams against the Design of the Most High; the habitual expectations (of others) - demanding from the Lord only the help to realise them.

Here then arise Simeon and Anna (vv.25.36-38), women and men coryphaeans of the most sensitive authentic People, thanks to excellent work on the soul.

Coming both from inside and outside the Temple - such prophets attempt to block (vv.28.38 Greek text) the small family procession, still bound by Judaic conventions (vv.21-23).

Compared to cultic and legalistic stereotypes, the members of the holy family must take a different, conscious Path.

A path that will lead it to unforeseen growth, for the benefit of all.

Thus, the Tiny Holy Remnant of Spirit-animated women and men burst in (always) as if they were strangers...

People of tiny worshippers, of genuine outsiders, who even try to prevent the 'same' useless clan ritual!

A gesture that pretended - again - to transform (and reduce) into an obsequious son of Abraham the One who had been announced as the Son of God.

In short, in the figures of Simeon and Anna, Lk wants to convey to us a fundamental teaching.

If the goal is the triumph of life, past history must not take precedence over unheard-of revelation.

Divine Oneness is manifested in what happens.

The Exceptionality of the Spirit proposes itself (dimly) now.

Unexpectedness to which we are called to give full voice - and echo.

The unveiling is now.

The 'here' immediately opens an arc of full existence.

[No more repeating 'how we should be' according to customs or fathers...].

Where everything is combined, we will not find the answers that solve the real problems, nor magic times - those that motivate us. 

Genuine Godly souls are not concerned with pandering to obligations, but rather with living intensely in the present moment with the energy that charts the future, without hesitating with the excesses of control.

Stepping out of the normality of the established way - even through labour pains (vv.34-35) - creates space to welcome the Newness that saves.

Along the way, those thoughts and duties that no longer correspond to one's destiny will be defused, will evaporate of their own accord.

Thus in Mary: Mother icon of the whole Church of true expectations - cut off (v.35) from the habitual crowd.

She has laid down all dependencies.

And the Innocent One is the glory of the 'nation', in Spirit - because she comes out of it!

In her unpredictable and healthy figure resides a Light that enlightens all (v.32).

A trait of childhood and simple immediacy that becomes the "redemption of Jerusalem" (v.38).

It is in fact a Light that produces conflict with officialdom, a profound Splendour destined for all time - while the astute do not want to know about losing coordinates, roles, positions.

A "sword" (v.35) that in Mother Israel will bring about lacerations between those who open themselves to the torch of the Gospel and others who vice versa.

Lk has in mind community situations, where believers in Christ are discarded by friends and families from different cultural backgrounds (Lk 12:51-53).

But the awaited and true Messiah must be delivered to the world - although those best prepared to recognise him are the members of the smallest tribe of Israel [Asher, in the figure of Anna: vv.36-38].

These are the same prophets who in life vibrated for one great Love (vv.36-37), then experienced the absence of the Beloved - until they recognised him in Christ. Rejoicing in surprise; grasping personal correspondences within themselves, in the Spirit; rejoicing, praising the Gift of God (v.38).

The passage concludes with the return to Nazareth (vv.39-40) and the note concerning Jesus' own growth "in wisdom, stature and grace" [Greek text].

Moral: we are not in this world to cling to shadows and blocks of the past, with its perennial feelings - same old moods, same prevailing thoughts, same way of doing things (even the little things).

Mechanisms and comparisons that close off our days, our whole life and the emotional space of passions - clipping the wings of testimonies that want to override the course recognised since our ancestors.

Conversely, this is precisely the great Challenge that activates the young Rebirth of the Dream of God. And launches us into the transition from religious sense to personal Faith.

Such is the only energy that awakens, arouses enthusiasm, communicates simple virtue, sweeps away the layers of dust that still cover us with conformism without intimate momentum.

The recalcitrant and collective ways of taking to the field [more or less 'moral'] point at, deviate from, overload our essence - appealing to the fear of being rejected.

To slip effortlessly into the conventions and manners of our local culture [i.e. à la page] we often risk losing the Calling by Name, the unrepeatability of the path that vibrates within and truly belongs to us.

With respect to the 'religious' guerrilla warfare that we carry on even with ourselves, we need a respite from the common forms - even devout; cultic and purist, or glamorous.

Here comes a break from the social self-image: to allow us to abandon external and toxic forms, to recover silenced energies.

And to launch ourselves into new experiences from the soul [which is not wrong] - which we want to and are called upon to espouse, with enthusiasm, without first stepping into a role.

To internalise and live the message:

Forty days after Christmas, how do you encounter again in you the Child Jesus, who appeals without ceasing?

Has the joy of that Feast of Light faded? Have more stars caught your attention?

Lost and found. Salvation in a young and open place

Already rebellious: Particular vocation

(Lk 2:41-52)

The family is the nucleus of society and the privileged place of educational risk, not the only one.

It is a precious stage of growth, but it must not hinder flowering in the universal dimension.

The movement of Salvation familiarises everyone with the dynamics of loss [from the narrowness] and rediscovery [of a Presence within the dissimilar presences] in order not to narrow horizons.

The complacent retreat into the world of kinship affections and interests reduces the dimension of vital frontiers, making personal and household life narrow; cultural, social and spiritual.

The home must integrate them into the community, and introduce young people to the knowledge of the innate character of their vocation, so that as they grow up they become available and mature in an ever-widening reality. 

The family becoming a stepping stone preludes detachment, which in its cut will be painful for all - but it will become a taking flight from the protected nest that enslaves; a leap towards the freedom of a full life.

The Gospel passage baffles because it seems to portray a distracted family and an already grumpy and rebellious Jesus.

Lk writes more than half a century after the Lord's death and resurrection.

The tragic story of the Master is understood and internalised in a way that perhaps Joseph and Mary could not yet have guessed in their adolescence.

Recognising Jesus as the Son of God from the age of twelve meant in the literature of the time "covering" his entire life [cf. Lk 24].

It seems that the Holy Family went up to Jerusalem every year for the Passover (v.41).

Before one became an adult in Israel and bound to the observance of the Torah (13 years old), our Adolescent already shows signs of a special vocation.

From the tone of the narration one can see a Jesus eager to drink in and immerse himself in the as yet unexpressed Mystery of the Father.

Dreaming of discovering his Will, he stays in the holy city to fully understand the Word of God - without settling for impersonal, abbreviated catechisms.

The first expressions of Jesus in the third Gospel mark the character of his whole story. He decisively distances himself from the religiosity of the fathers (v.49).

He begins to distance himself from the ideas common even to his family of origin: he does not belong to a defined clan.

His will be a divine proposal on behalf of all the women and men of the world.

In this sense, Jesus even more honoured his parents' loyalty to God (vv.51-52) by accepting the whole spirit of their teachings, and digging deeper - intuiting their ultimate meaning.

As if to say: in him, the sacred Scriptures become accessible, with the key to understanding his entire life and Person.

Life for us (even before Baptism and the public event).

Lk writes to encourage believers who did not yet understand everything about the new Rabbi's story.

Like Joseph and Mary, they had to realise that it is not easy to understand the Son of God and accept his uniqueness of character, even to the point of earthly defeat.

In the figure of the holy family, we too are invited to "return to Jerusalem" (v.45).

Here, observing the autonomy of Christ, we will gradually be able to open ourselves to the unprecedented vocation we carry within - because we are "born again" in Him.

And in the face of disconcerting events, we will learn to cherish the personal calling - like Mary.

For she too did not find it easy to enter her Easter: the "passage" from the religion of traditions and expectations to Faith in her Son.

But she "kept through" Word and events (v.51b), without stopping in the middle.

The reflective aspect of the House of Nazareth

The house of Nazareth is the school where one is initiated to understand the life of Jesus, that is, the school of the Gospel. Here we learn to observe, to listen, to meditate, to penetrate the meaning so profound and so mysterious of this manifestation of the Son of God so simple, so humble and so beautiful. Perhaps we also learn, almost without realising it, to imitate.Here we learn the method that will enable us to know who Christ is. Here we discover the need to observe the framework of his sojourn among us: that is, the places, the times, the customs, the language, the sacred rites, everything, in short, that Jesus used to manifest himself to the world.Here everything has a voice, everything has a meaning. Here, at this school, we certainly understand why we must keep a spiritual discipline, if we want to follow the doctrine of the Gospel and become disciples of Christ. Oh! how willingly we would like to become children again and put ourselves to this humble and sublime school of Nazareth! How ardently we would wish to begin again, close to Mary, to learn the true science of life and the superior wisdom of divine truths! But we are but passing through, and it is necessary for us to lay aside our desire to continue to learn, in this house, the unfinished training in the understanding of the Gospel. However, we will not leave this place without having picked up, almost furtively, some brief admonitions from the house of Nazareth.Firstly, it teaches us silence. Oh! would that there were reborn in us an appreciation of silence, an admirable and indispensable atmosphere of the spirit: while we are stunned by so many noises, rumblings and clamorous voices in the exaggerated and tumultuous life of our time. O Silence of Nazareth, teach us to be firm in good thoughts, intent on the inner life, ready to hear God's secret inspirations and the exhortations of the true teachers. Teach us how important and necessary are the work of preparation, study, meditation, the interiority of life, prayer, which God alone sees in secret.Here we understand the way of life in the family. Nazareth remind us what the family is, what the communion of love is, its austere and simple beauty, its sacred and inviolable character; let us see how sweet and irreplaceable education in the family is, teach us its natural function in the social order. Finally, let us learn the lesson of work. Oh! dwelling place of Nazareth, home of the carpenter's Son! Here above all we wish to understand and celebrate the law, severe of course but redeeming of human toil; here to ennoble the dignity of work so that it is felt by all; to remember under this roof that work cannot be an end in itself, but that it receives its freedom and excellence, not only from what is called economic value, but also from what turns it to its noble end; here finally we wish to greet the workers of the whole world and show them the great model, their divine brother, the prophet of all the just causes that concern them, that is Christ our Lord.

[Pope Paul VI, Church of the Annunciation Nazareth 5 January 1964].

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

In his account of the infancy of Jesus St Luke emphasizes how faithful Mary and Joseph were to the Law of the Lord. They fulfilled with profound devotion all the prescriptions prescribed following the birth of a firstborn male. Two of them were very ancient prescriptions: one concerns the mother and the other the newborn child. The woman was required to abstain from ritual practices for forty days, after which she was to offer a double sacrifice: a lamb as a burnt offering and a turtle-dove as a sin offering; but if she were poor, she could offer a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons (cf. Lev 12:1-8).

St Luke explained that Mary and Joseph offer the sacrifice of the poor (cf. 2:24) in order to emphasize that Jesus was born into a family of simple people, lowly but of steadfast faith: a family that belonged to the poor of Israel who form the true People of God. For the first-born male who, according to Mosaic Law, was set apart for God, redemption was prescribed instead, established as an offering of five shekels to be paid to a priest in any place. This was in everlasting memory of the fact that in the time of Herod God saved the firstborn of the Jews (cf. Ex 13:11-16).

It is important to note that these two acts — the purification of the mother and the redemption of the son — did not require a visit to the Temple. However, Mary and Joseph wished to fulfil all the prescriptions in Jerusalem, and St Luke shows us how the entire scene converges on the Temple and thus focuses on Jesus who enters it. And it is here, precisely through the prescriptions of the Law, that the principal event is transformed, namely, it becomes the “presentation” of Jesus in the Temple of God, which means the act of offering the Son of the Most High to the Father who sent him (cf. Lk 1:32, 35).

The Evangelist’s account is confirmed by the words of the Prophet Malachi which we heard at the beginning of the First Reading: “Behold”, says the Lord, “I send my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant in whom you delight, behold, he is coming... he will purify the sons of Levi.... Then the offering... will be pleasing to the Lord” (3:1, 3, 4).

These words clearly make no mention of a child and yet they are fulfilled in Jesus because, thanks to the faith of his parents, he was taken to the Temple “immediately”; and in the act of his “presentation”, that is, the “offering” of him in person to God the Father, the themes of sacrifice and of the priesthood clearly transpire, as in the passage from the prophet. The Child Jesus, who is immediately presented in the Temple, is the same person who, as an adult, would purify the Temple (cf. Jn 2:13-22; Mk 11:15, 19ff). Above all he would make himself the sacrifice and the High Priest of the new Covenant.

This is also the perspective of the Letter to the Hebrews, a passage of which was proclaimed in the Second Reading, to strengthen the theme of the new priesthood: a priesthood — inaugurated by Jesus — which is existential: “For because he himself has suffered and been tempted, he is able to help those who are tempted” (Heb 2:18). So it is that we also discover the topic of suffering, very pronounced in the Gospel passage in which Simeon imparts his prophecy concerning both the Child and the Mother: “Behold, this Child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and, [to Mary], a sword will pierce through your own soul also)” (Lk 2:34-35).

The “salvation” that Jesus brought to his people, and which he embodies in himself, passed through the Cross, through the violent death that he was to vanquish and to transform with the sacrifice of his life through love. This sacrifice was already foretold in the act of the Presentation in the Temple, an act without any doubt motivated by the traditions of the old Covenant, but that was deeply enlivened by the fullness of faith and love, which correspond to the fullness of time, to the presence of God and of his Holy Spirit in Jesus. Indeed, the Spirit moved over the whole scene of the presentation of Jesus in the Temple and in particular over Simeon, but also over Anna.

The Spirit “Paraclete” brings consolation to Israel and motivates the steps and moves the hearts of those who await him. He is the Spirit who prompted the prophetic words of Simeon and Anna, words of blessing and praise of God, of faith in his Annointed One, of thanksgiving, for at last our eyes could see and our arms embrace “your salvation” (cf. 2:30).

“A light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel” (2:32). With these words Simeon describes the Messiah of the Lord, at the end of his hymn of blessing. The topic of light, that reechoes the first and second songs of the Servant of the Lord in the Deutero-Isaiah (cf. Is 42:6; 49:6), is vividly present in this liturgy. It was in fact opened by an evocative procession, in which the Superiors and General Superiors of the Institutes of consecrated life represented here took part and carried lit candles. This sign, specific to the liturgical tradition of this Feast, is deeply expressive. It shows the beauty and value of the consecrated life as a reflection of Christ’s light; a sign that recalls Mary’s entry into the Temple. The Virgin Mary, the Consecrated Woman par excellence, carried in her arms the Light himself, the Incarnate Word who came to dispel the darkness of the world with God’s love.

Dear consecrated brothers and sisters, you were all represented in that symbolic pilgrimage, which in the Year of Faith expresses even better your gathering together in the Church to be strengthened in faith and to renew the offering of yourselves to God. I address my most cordial greetings with affection to each one of you and to your Institutes and I thank you for coming. In the light of Christ, with the many charisms of contemplative and apostolic life, you cooperate in the Church’s life and mission in the world.

In this spirit of gratitude and communion I would like to address three invitations to you, so that you may fully enter through that “door of faith” which is always open to us (Apostolic Letter, Porta Fidei, n. 1).

I invite you in the first place to nourish a faith that can illuminate your vocation. For this I urge you to treasure, as on an inner pilgrimage, the memory of the “first love” with which the Lord Jesus Christ warmed your hearts, not out of nostalgia but in order to feed that flame. And for this it is necessary to be with him, in the silence of adoration; and thereby reawaken the wish to share — and the joy of sharing — in his life, his decisions, the obedience of faith, the blessedness of the poor and the radical nature of love. Starting ever anew from this encounter of love, you leave everything to be with him and like him, to put yourselves at the service of God and your brothers and sisters (cf. Apostolic Exhortation Vita Consecrata, n. 1).

In the second place I invite you to have a faith that can recognize the wisdom of weakness. In the joys and afflictions of the present time, when the harshness and weight of the cross make themselves felt, do not doubt that the kenosis of Christ is already a paschal victory. Precisely in our limitations and weaknesses as human beings we are called to live conformation with Christ in an all-encompassing commitment which anticipates the eschatological perfection, to the extent that this is possible in time (ibid., n. 16). In a society of efficiency and success, your life, marked by the “humility” and frailty of the lowly, of empathy with those who have no voice, becomes an evangelical sign of contradiction.

Lastly, I invite you to renew the faith that makes you pilgrims bound for the future. By its nature the consecrated life is a pilgrimage of the spirit in quest of a Face that is sometimes revealed and sometimes veiled: “Faciem tuam, Domine, requiram” (Ps 27[26]:8). May this be the constant yearning of your heart, the fundamental criterion that guides you on your journey, both in small daily steps and in the most important decisions.

Do not join the ranks of the prophets of doom who proclaim the end or meaninglessness of the consecrated life in the Church in our day; rather, clothe yourselves in Jesus Christ and put on the armour of light — as St Paul urged (cf. Rom 13:11-14) — keeping awake and watchful. St Chromatius of Aquileia wrote: “Distance this peril from us so that we are never overcome by the heavy slumber of infidelity. Rather may he grant us his grace and his mercy, that we may watch, ever faithful to him. In fact our fidelity can watch in Christ (Sermon 32, 4).

Dear brothers and sisters, the joy of consecrated life necessarily passes through participation in the cross of Christ. This is how it ways for Mary Most Holy. Hers is the suffering of the heart that is one with the Heart of the Son of God, pierced by love. From this wound God’s light flows and also from the suffering, sacrifice and self-giving of consecrated people who live through their love for God and for others, that shines the very light that evangelizes nations. On this feast I express in a special way to you, consecrated people, the hope that your lives may always have the flavour of evangelical parresia, so that in you the Good News may be lived, witnessed to, and proclaimed and may shine out as a word of truth (cf. Apostolic Letter Porta Fidei, n. 6). Amen.

[Pope Benedict, homily 2 February 2013]

1. Lumen ad revelationem gentium! “Light for revelation to the Gentiles” (Lk 2:32).

These words resound in the temple of Jerusalem, as 40 days after the birth of Jesus, Mary and Joseph prepare to “present him to the Lord” (Lk 2:22). By emphasizing the contrast between the modest, humble action of the two parents and the glory of the event as perceived by Simeon and Anna, the Evangelist Luke apparently wants to suggest that the temple itself is waiting for the Child’s coming. In fact, in the prophetic attitude of the two elderly people, the entire Old Covenant expresses the joy of the meeting with the Redeemer.

Simeon and Anna go to the temple both longing for the Messiah, both inspired by the Holy Spirit, as Mary and Joseph take Jesus there in obedience to the precepts of the law. At the sight of the Child, they sense that it is truly he, the Awaited One, and Simeon, as if in ecstasy, proclaims: “Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation which your have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel” (Lk 2:29-32).

2. Lumen ad revelationem gentium!

With his inspired words, Simeon, a man of the Old Covenant, a man of the temple of Jerusalem, expresses his conviction that this Light is meant not only for Israel, but also for pagans and all the peoples of the earth. With him, the “aged” world receives in its arms the splendour of God’s eternal “youth”. However, the shadow of the Cross already looms in the background, because the darkness will reject that Light. Indeed, turning to Mary, Simeon prophesies: “This child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed” (Lk 2:34-35).

3. Lumen ad revelationem gentium!

The words of Simeon’s canticle ring out in many temples of the New Covenant, where every evening Christ’s disciples finish the Liturgy of the Hours by praying Compline. In this way the Church, the people of the New Covenant, takes as it were the last word of the Old Covenant and proclaims the fulfilment of the divine promise, announcing that the “light for revelation to the Gentiles” has spread over all the earth and is present everywhere in Christ’s redemptive work.

Together with the Canticle of Simeon, the Liturgy of the Hours has us repeat Christ’s last words on the Cross: In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum — “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (cf. Lk 23:46). It also invites us to contemplate with wonder and gratitude the saving action of Christ, “light for revelation to the Gentiles”, for the sake of mankind: Redemisti nos, Domine, Deus veritatis — “You have redeemed us, Lord, God of truth”.

In this way the Church proclaims the fulfilment of the world’s Redemption, awaited by the prophets and announced by Simeon in the temple of Jerusalem.

4. Lumen ad revelationem gentium!

Today, with our lighted candles, we too go to meet him who is “the Light of the world” and we welcome him in his Church with the full enthusiasm of our baptismal faith. Everyone who sincerely professes this faith is promised the final, definitive “meeting” with the Lord in his kingdom. In Polish tradition, as well in that of other nations, these blessed candles have a special meaning because, after they have been brought home, they are lit in times of danger, during storms and disasters, as a sign of entrusting oneself, one’s family and all one possesses to God’s protection. This is the reason why these candles are called gromnice in Polish, that is, candles which avert lightning and protect against evil, and why this feast is called Candlemas (literally: St Mary of the Candles [“gromnice”]).

Even more eloquent is the custom of putting the candle blessed on this day in the hands of a Christian on his deathbed, that it may illumine his last steps on the way to eternity. This practice is meant to show that, by following the  light of faith, the dying person is waiting to enter the eternal dwelling place, where there is no longer “need of light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light” (cf. Rv 22:5).

Today’s responsorial psalm also refers to this entry into the kingdom of light: “Lift up, O gates, your lintels; reach up, you ancient portals, that the Lord of glory may come in” (Ps 23 [24]:7).

These words refer directly to Jesus Christ, who enters the temple of the Old Covenant in his parents’ arms, but we can also apply them to every believer who crosses the threshold of eternity, carried in the arms of the Church. Believers accompany his last journey by praying: “Let perpetual light shine on him!”, so that the angels and saints may welcome him, and Christ, Redeemer of man, may surround him with his eternal light.

5. Dear brothers and sisters, today we celebrate the Second Day of Consecrated Life, which is meant to arouse renewed concern in the Church for the gift of vocations to the consecrated life. Dear men and women religious, dear members of secular institutes and societies of apostolic life, the Lord has called you to follow him in a closer and more exceptional way! In our times, dominated by secularism and materialism, by your total and definitive gift of self to Christ you are a sign of an alternative life to the logic of the world, because it is radically inspired by the Gospel and oriented to future eschatological realities. Always remain faithful to this special vocation!

Today I would like once again to express my esteem and affection to you. I first greet Cardinal Eduardo Martínez Somalo, Prefect of the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life, who is presiding over this Eucharistic celebration. Together with him I greet the members of that dicastery and everyone who actively serves consecrated life. I am thinking especially of you, young aspirants to the consecrated life, of you, men and women already professed in various religious congregations and secular institutes, of you who because of advanced age or illness are called to offer the valuable contribution of your sufferings to the cause of evangelization. To you all, I repeat in the words of the Apostolic Exhortation Vita consecrata: “You know the one in whom you have put your trust (cf. 2 Tm 1:12): give him everything! ... Live faithfully your commitment to God, in mutual edification and mutual support.... Do not forget that you, in a very special way, can and must say that you not only belong to Christ but that ‘you have become Christ’” (n. 109).

The lighted candles carried by each person in the first part of this solemn liturgy show the watchful expectation of the Lord which should mark every believer’s life, and particularly the life of those whom the Lord calls to a special mission in the Church. They are a strong reminder to bear witness in the world to Christ, the light that never fades: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Mt 5:16).

Dear brothers and sisters, may your total fidelity to the poor, chaste and obedient Christ be a source of light and hope for everyone you meet.

6. Lumen ad revelationem gentium!

May Mary, who was prompt in obedience, courageous in poverty and receptive in fruitful virginity as she fulfilled the Father’s will, obtain from Jesus that “all who have received the gift of following him in the consecrated life may be enabled to bear witness to that gift by their transfigured lives, as they joyfully make their way with all their brothers and sisters towards our heavenly homeland and the light that will never grow dim” (Vita consecrata, n. 112).

Praised be Jesus Christ!

[Pope John Paul II, homily 2 February 1998]

Today we are celebrating the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord: when the infant Jesus was presented in the Temple by the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph. Today is also World Day of Consecrated Life which recalls the great treasure in the Church of those who follow the Lord assiduously, by professing the evangelical counsels.

The Gospel (cf. Lk 2:22-40) narrates that 40 days after his birth, Jesus’ parents took their child to Jerusalem to consecrate him to God, as prescribed by Jewish Law. And as it describes a rite prescribed by tradition, this event brings to our attention the behaviour of some of the protagonists. They are caught at the very moment they experience the encounter with the Lord in the place where he makes himself present and close to mankind. They are Mary and Joseph, Simeon and Anna who are examples of welcome and offering as they offered their own lives to God. These four were not the same. They were all different but they all sought God and allowed themselves to be guided by the Lord.

The evangelist Luke describes all four of them in a twofold attitude: the attitude of movement and the attitude of wonder.

The first attitude is movement. Mary and Joseph head towards Jerusalem: meanwhile, moved by the Spirit, Simeon goes to the Temple, while Anna tirelessly serves God day and night. In this way the four protagonists of the Gospel passage show us that Christian life requires dynamism, and it requires a willingness to walk, allowing the Holy Spirit to guide one. Immobility suits neither Christian witness nor the Church’s mission. The world needs Christians who allow themselves to be moved, who do not tire of walking on life’s streets, to bring the comforting Word of Jesus to everyone. Every baptized person has received the vocation to proclaim — to proclaim something, to proclaim Jesus — the vocation and mission to evangelize: to proclaim Jesus! Parishes and various ecclesial communities are called to foster the commitment of young people, families and the elderly so that everyone can have a Christian experience, living the Church’s life and mission as protagonists.

The second attitude with which Saint Luke presents the four protagonists in the narrative is wonder. Mary and Joseph: “marvelled at what was said about him” (v. 33). Wonder is also an explicit reaction of the aged Simeon, who sees with his own eyes in the Child Jesus the redemption of God for his people: that redemption which he had awaited for years. And the same is true of Anna who “gave thanks to God” (v. 38) and went about pointing Jesus out to the people. She was a saintly chatterbox. She talked well, she talked of good, not bad things. She spoke, she announced: a saint who went from one woman to the next, making them see Jesus. These figures of believers were wrapped in wonder because they allowed themselves to be captivated by and involved in the events that occurred right before their eyes. The ability to be amazed at things around us promotes religious experience and makes the encounter with the Lord more fruitful. On the contrary, the inability to marvel makes us indifferent and widens the gap between the journey of faith and daily life.

Brothers and sisters, always [be] on the move and open to wonder!

May the Virgin Mary help us to contemplate every day in Jesus, God’s gift to us, and to allow ourselves to be engaged by him in the movement of the gift with joyful wonder so that our whole life may become a praise to God in the service to our brothers and sisters.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 2 February 2020]

Turnover in the Church, antidote to unilaterality

(Mt 5:1-12)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turnover in the Church, an antidote to unilateralism

(Mt 5:1-12)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it goes, from alienation to alienation.

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

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

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

All condemned and inadequate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same is true of peacemakers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thus, the enriched become lords.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To internalise and live the message:

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

They let the Light pass through

All the Saints, between religious sentiment and Faith

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Questioning oneself is fundamental from a biblical perspective.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For a New Covenant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recognising them better, thanks also to You and Us.

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

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

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 30 January 2011]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 29 January 2017]