Mt 1:18-24 (1-24)

Contact with the earth: deviations and Ascent

Unassuming Incarnation, in subtlety and density

(Mt 1:1-17)

In the ancient East, genealogies referred only to men, and it is surprising that Matthew mentions the names of five women - considered only servile, unreliable creatures, impure by nature.

But in the story of Mary's four companions, there is something quite abnormal [also in terms of their chosen way of life], which is nevertheless worthwhile.

Here, then, we are challenged by the Gospel to consider the weight to be given to the rigidity of rules, which in the history of spirituality have often devoured the spontaneous being of those called by the Father (simply to express themselves).

Even cultures inspired by the Wisdom of Nature attest to their weight.

The Tao Tê Ching (LVII) writes: 'When the world is governed by correction, weapons are used with falsehood [...] For this reason, the saint says: I do not act, and the people transform themselves [...] I do not desire, and the people become simple'.

To reach the human fullness of the Son, God did not claim to overcome concrete events, but rather assumed and valued them.

The path that leads to Christ is not a matter of climbing, nor of results or performances to be calibrated ever better in a linear crescendo that is therefore moralising and dirigiste (which does not impose changes that matter, nor solve real problems).

Commenting on the Tao (i), Master Ho-shang Kung writes: 'Mystery is Heaven. It says that both the man who has desires and the man who has none receive equally from Heaven. Within Heaven there is another Heaven; in Heaven there is density and tenuity'.

In history, the Eternal One manages to give wings not so much to strength and genius, but to all poor origins, to the pettiness of our nature, which suddenly turns into totally unpredictable wealth. 

And if we continually tear the thread, the Lord re-knots it - not to fix it, patch it up and resume as before, but to weave an entirely new fabric. Starting precisely from the falls.

It is those moments of down-to-earth discrimination that force humanity to change direction symbolically and not repeat itself, stagnating in the circuit of the usual cerebral and purist perimeters - habitual, and where everything is normal.

Following inner crashes and rethinking, how many people have realised their destiny, deviating from the quiet, protected and comfortable path that had been laid out for them (Cottolengo, Mother Teresa, and so on)!

From the mud of the swamp sprout beautiful, clean flowers, which do not even resemble those that we had ever imagined we would be able to contemplate in the various stages of life.

The tumbles of the protagonists of the history of salvation did not come about because of weakness. They were signs of a bad or partial use of resources; stimuli to change our perspective, re-evaluate our point of view and many hopes.

Those collapses presented new challenges: they were interpreted as strong provocations to shift energies and change course.

The recoveries that followed the downturns turned into new opportunities, completely unexpected, completely at odds with the ready-made solutions that stifle character.

Even our crisis only becomes serious when failures do not lead to new insights and different paths that we had not thought of (perhaps in any of our good intentions).

This link between our depths and the heights of the Spirit is strange: it is the Incarnation, not a theory - it is all reality.

There is no Gift that resembles us at the divine level and that comes to us without passing through and involving the dimension of finitude.

The holes in the water convey the entirely human nature of what we are - behind the illusions or appearances that we do not want to give up, in order to convince ourselves that we are instead identified 'characters'.

But the ambivalences and flaws continue to want to shift our gaze and destiny elsewhere, away from common expectations [today even the paroxysm of the point in the polls].

Behind the mask and beyond the beliefs acquired from the environment, from manners or procedures... there is the great Secret of the Father about us.

It is precisely the descents that spiritualise, through a work of the soul that is spurred on by events, so that it turns to acquire new awareness, internalises different evaluations, sees and embraces other varied horizons, including missionary ones.

The crack that brings us down can be more substantial than any progress; not because it initiates an asceticism: it becomes contact with the 'earth' - where we find the lifeblood that truly corresponds to us, to regenerate.

The decline or even the ruin of a reassuring status has a propulsive, regenerative, transmutative function in every event; normal, after all, and in which the history of God is totally recognised.

To internalise and live the message:

What were your turning points?

What detour has fulfilled you?

Not only through men, but with them

With today's Liturgy, we enter the last stretch of the Advent journey, which urges us to intensify our preparation to celebrate the Lord's Christmas with faith and joy, welcoming with intimate wonder God who draws near to man, to each one of us.

The first reading presents us with the elderly Jacob gathering his sons for a blessing: it is an event of great intensity and emotion. This blessing is like a seal of fidelity to the covenant with God, but it is also a prophetic vision that looks ahead and points to a mission. Jacob is the father who, through the not always straightforward paths of his own history, comes to the joy of gathering his sons around him and tracing the future of each one and their descendants. In particular, today we heard the reference to the tribe of Judah, whose royal strength is exalted, represented by the lion, as well as to the monarchy of David, represented by the sceptre, the staff of command, which alludes to the coming of the Messiah. Thus, in this double image, we see the future mystery of the lion who becomes a lamb, of the king whose staff of command is the Cross, the sign of true kingship. Jacob gradually became aware of God's primacy, understood that his journey was guided and sustained by the Lord's faithfulness, and could only respond with full adherence to God's covenant and plan of salvation, becoming in turn, together with his descendants, a link in the divine plan.

The passage from Matthew's Gospel presents us with the "genealogy of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham" (Mt 1:1), further emphasising and explaining God's faithfulness to his promise, which he fulfils not only through men, but with them and, as with Jacob, sometimes through tortuous and unexpected ways. The expected Messiah, the object of the promise, is true God, but also true man; Son of God, but also Son born of the Virgin, Mary of Nazareth, holy flesh of Abraham, in whose seed all the peoples of the earth will be blessed (cf. Gen 22:18). In this genealogy, in addition to Mary, four women are mentioned. They are not Sarah, Rebecca, Leah, Rachel, that is, the great figures of the history of Israel. Paradoxically, instead, they are four pagan women: Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba, Tamar, who apparently "disturb" the purity of a genealogy. But in these pagan women, who appear at decisive moments in the history of salvation, the mystery of the church of the pagans, the universality of salvation, shines through. They are pagan women in whom the future, the universality of salvation, appears. They are also sinful women, and so the mystery of grace also appears in them: it is not our works that redeem the world, but it is the Lord who gives us true life. They are sinful women, yes, in whom the greatness of the grace we all need appears. However, these women reveal an exemplary response to God's faithfulness, showing faith in the God of Israel. And so we see the church of the pagans, the mystery of grace, faith as a gift and as a path to communion with God. Matthew's genealogy, therefore, is not simply a list of generations: it is history made primarily by God, but with the response of humanity. It is a genealogy of grace and faith: it is precisely on God's absolute faithfulness and on the solid faith of these women that the continuation of the promise made to Israel rests.

[Pope Benedict, homily at the Aletti Centre, 17 December 2009]

Man, God's surname

Man is God's surname: the Lord takes the name of each one of us — whether we are saints or sinners — and makes it his own surname. Because by becoming incarnate, the Lord made history with humanity: his joy was to share his life with us, 'and this makes us weep: so much love, so much tenderness'.

With Christmas now imminent, Pope Francis commented on Tuesday 17 December on the two readings proposed by the liturgy of the word, taken respectively from Genesis (49:2, 8-10) and the Gospel of Matthew (1:1-17). On his 77th birthday, the Holy Father presided as usual over morning Mass in the chapel of Santa Marta. Among those concelebrating was Cardinal Dean Angelo Sodano, who conveyed the best wishes of the entire College of Cardinals.

In his homily, which focused on God's presence in human history, the Bishop of Rome identified two terms — inheritance and genealogy — as the keys to interpreting the first reading (concerning Jacob's prophecy as he gathers his sons and predicts a glorious lineage for Judah) and the Gospel passage containing the genealogy of Jesus, respectively. Focusing in particular on the latter, he emphasised that it is not 'a telephone directory', but 'an important subject: it is pure history', because 'God sent his son' among men. And, he added, "Jesus is consubstantial with the Father, God; but also consubstantial with the mother, a woman. And this is the consubstantiality of the mother: God became history, God wanted to become history. He is with us. He has walked with us."

A journey, continued the Bishop of Rome, that began long ago, in Paradise, immediately after the original sin. From that moment, in fact, the Lord "had this idea: to walk with us." Therefore, "he called Abraham, the first name on this list, and invited him to walk. And Abraham began that journey: he begot Isaac, and Isaac begot Jacob, and Jacob begot Judah." And so on, throughout human history. "God walks with his people," therefore, because "he did not want to come to save us without history; he wanted to make history with us."

A history, said the Pontiff, made up of holiness and sin, because in the list of Jesus' genealogy there are saints and sinners. Among the former, the Pope recalled "our father Abraham" and "David, who converted after his sin". Among the latter, he identified "high-level sinners who committed grave sins," but with whom God nevertheless "made history." Sinners who were unable to respond to the plan God had imagined for them: like "Solomon, so great and intelligent, who ended up as a poor man who did not even know his own name." Yet, Pope Francis noted, God was also with him. "And this is the beauty of it: God makes history with us. What's more, when God wants to say who he is, he says: I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob."

That is why, when asked "what is God's surname?", Pope Francis can answer: "It is us, each one of us. He takes his name from us to make it his surname." . And in the example offered by the Pontiff, there are not only the fathers of our faith, but also ordinary people. "I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Pedro, Marietta, Armony, Marisa, Simone, everyone. He takes his surname from us. God's surname is each one of us," he explained.

Hence the observation that by taking "the surname from our name, God has made history with us"; indeed, more than that: "He has allowed us to write history". And we continue to write "this history" today, which is made up of "grace and sin", while the Lord never tires of following us: " this is God's humility, God's patience, God's love." After all, even "the book of Wisdom says that the joy of the Lord is among the children of man, with us."

So, as "Christmas approaches," Pope Francis — as he himself confided at the end of his reflection — naturally thought: " If he has made his history with us, if he has taken his surname from us, if he has let us write his history," we, for our part, should let God write ours. Because, he clarified, "holiness" is precisely "letting the Lord write our history." And this is the Christmas wish that the Pontiff wanted to make "for all of us." . A wish that is an invitation to open our hearts: "Let the Lord write your story and let him write it."

[Pope Francis, homily at St. Martha's, in L'Osservatore Romano, 18/12/2013]

Annunciation to Joseph: meaning and value of Doubt

(Mt 1:16, 18-21, 24)

"Even through Joseph's anguish, God's will, his history, his plan, comes through. Joseph thus teaches us that having faith in God also means believing that He can work even through our fears, our fragility, our weakness. He teaches us that, in the midst of life's storms, we must not be afraid to let God steer our boat. Sometimes we would like to control everything, but He always has a broader view" [Patris Corde n.2].

    In Matthew's infancy Gospels, God takes on two names: Redeemer [Yeshua: God is Saviour] and With-us. The meaning of these divine prerogatives is not mechanical, but theological.

The proper name of the Son Jesus describes his work of restoring all being. And the characteristic attribute Immanuel (taken from Isaiah) specifies its many addresses - its many locations, which are each of us, growing over time.

Incarnation: the Father stands alongside his sons and daughters. Not only is he not afraid of becoming impure through contact with things that concern human dynamics, but he even recognises himself in their condition.

For this reason, Joseph's embarrassment even leads to the culmination of the entire history of salvation.

Sources attest that he was by no means a character with a lily in his hand, but perhaps this is only of interest to us to a certain extent.

Matthew's narrative is striking because the turning point and the possibilities of the irruption (of the summit itself) of God's plan for humanity seem to spring not from certainty but from doubt.

The question mark is engaging. Discomfort sows a new seed. It tears down and destroys the identical seedlings of the weeds that infest a full life - which was a law chiselled on appearances.

The 'problem' leads us to dream of other horizons to open up, and in the first person, because the solution is not at hand.

Perplexity leads us out of the mental cages that mortify relationships previously reduced to case studies - overlooking the mechanisms that depersonalise.

Perplexity makes us go beyond common opinion, which attenuates and extinguishes the Newness of God.

Hesitation seeks existential cracks, because it wants to introduce us to territories of life - where others can also draw on different experiences, varied perceptions, and moments in which to receive decisive insights as gifts.

His wise Energy finds breaches and small openings; it acts to make us evolve as children of Eternity - even by arousing discomforts that flood existence with creative suspensions and new passion.

Its lucid Action introduces itself through Dreams that shake off the usual plans, or states of mind that put us in the balance; and the bottlenecks of marginalised thinking that allow us to rediscover the reason why we were born, to discover our place in the world.

Every oscillation, every pain, every danger, every move, can become a birth towards Originality - without first identifying ourselves.

Uniqueness does not cause us to lose sight of the Source that 'watches over' us. Woe betide us if we shy away: we would lose our destination.

This is while the circles of the resolute remain there and wither, precisely because they are always ready to explain everything.

So, for example, as with the Family of Nazareth, life in solitude - whether forced or not - becomes regenerating rather than terrible.

The Spirit that slips into the cracks of standard mentalities finds an intimate 'point' that allows us to flourish differently now, able to bring out the essence of who we truly are, ceasing to copy clichés.

So instead of wondering why something happened, after the first discriminating experience that does not fear the fear of remaining isolated, perhaps we return more frequently to our Core, which constantly gushes for a higher Dialogue.

Then we will not continue to ask ourselves, 'But whose fault is it? How can we remedy the situation? Who should we rely on?'. Rather: 'What new life do I need to explore? What is still to be discovered?'.

We will emerge with a very different virtue of vocation, because the Holy Spirit breaks through the cracks in the norms that make us conformists, then dismantles and overturns those walls. Finally, it spreads, to build its own story - which is not predictable, 'by the book' like that of all those bound by comparison.

Feeling the discomfort of participating in rituals of composed identification causes many problems, but it can be a great opportunity in life to broaden one's horizons... even for those who do not like to take the mediocre path of reassurance - making themselves dependent on opinion, clichés, and feeling immediately celebrated out of fear.

Apparent happiness. In fact, the bite of doubt does not turn us into trashy believers, as hypothesised in disciplined, legalistic religions - in puritanical philosophies with artificial wisdom - but rather into friends, adopted children [i.e. chosen] and heirs.

Thanks to the Relationship of Faith, we are no longer lost in the desert - because the many things and risks become a dialogue of specific weight: we are at Home, respecting our mysterious character and Calling.

Already here and now, we move away from the many things that constrain our Centre with constraints and demands - both in thought and action.

Only in this way are we no longer a mythological or addicted crowd, overflowing with guilt, duties and affiliations - but rather a Family and informal colloquial dissonance.

No longer a mass, but (all-round) People: precisely in our being within limits do we rhyme with great Mission.

Let us begin, like Joseph, to be present to ourselves. And by changing our gaze, we will enjoy the Beauty of the New.

"St Joseph reminds us that all those who are apparently hidden or 'in the background' have an unparalleled role in the history of salvation. To all of them, we offer a word of recognition and gratitude" [Patris Corde intr.].

To internalise and live the message:

What were your turning points? What detour led to your fulfilment?

On what occasion did doubt open up astonishing horizons for you?

When and if you changed your conformist outlook, did you experience the awakening of perspectives, relationships and regenerating energies in your inner world?

How did you perceive, 'see' or 'dream' what was previously invisible and elsewhere?

Did you perhaps start from your own certainty?

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In these last days of Advent the liturgy invites us to contemplate in a special way the Virgin Mary and St Joseph, who lived with unique intensity the period of expectation and preparation for Jesus' birth. 

Today, I would like to turn my gaze to the figure of St Joseph. In today's Gospel St Luke presents the Virgin Mary as "a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David" (cf. Lk 1: 27). The Evangelist Matthew, however, places a greater emphasis on the putative father of Jesus, stressing that through him the Child belonged legally to the lineage of David and thus fulfilled the Scriptural prophecy that the Messiah would be a "son of David". 

But Joseph's role cannot be reduced to this legal aspect. He was the model of a "just" man (Mt 1: 19) who, in perfect harmony with his wife, welcomed the Son of God made man and watched over his human growth. 

It is therefore particularly appropriate in the days that precede Christmas to establish a sort of spiritual conversation with St Joseph, so that he may help us live to the full this great mystery of faith.

Beloved Pope John Paul II, who was very devoted to St Joseph, left us a wonderful meditation dedicated to him in the Apostolic Exhortation Redemptoris Custos, "The Guardian of the Redeemer". 

Among the many aspects on which this Document sheds light, the silence of St Joseph is given a special emphasis. His silence is steeped in contemplation of the mystery of God in an attitude of total availability to the divine desires. 

In other words, St Joseph's silence does not express an inner emptiness but, on the contrary, the fullness of the faith he bears in his heart and which guides his every thought and action. 

It is a silence thanks to which Joseph, in unison with Mary, watches over the Word of God, known through the Sacred Scriptures, continuously comparing it with the events of the life of Jesus; a silence woven of constant prayer, a prayer of blessing of the Lord, of the adoration of his holy will and of unreserved entrustment to his providence. 

It is no exaggeration to think that it was precisely from his "father" Joseph that Jesus learned - at the human level - that steadfast interiority which is a presupposition of authentic justice, the "superior justice" which he was one day to teach his disciples (cf. Mt 5: 20). 

Let us allow ourselves to be "filled" with St Joseph's silence! In a world that is often too noisy, that encourages neither recollection nor listening to God's voice, we are in such deep need of it. During this season of preparation for Christmas, let us cultivate inner recollection in order to welcome and cherish Jesus in our own lives.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 18 December 2005]

2. "Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins" (Mt 1:20-21).
We find these words in the first chapter of the Gospel according to Matthew. They - especially in the second part - sound similar to those heard by Miriam, that is, Mary, at the moment of the Annunciation. In a few days - on 25 March - we will commemorate in the liturgy of the Church the moment when those words were spoken in Nazareth "to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary" (Lk 1:27).
The description of the Annunciation is found in the Gospel according to Luke.
Later, Matthew notes again that, after Mary's marriage to Joseph, "before they came to live together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit" (Mt 1:18).
Thus, the mystery that had begun at the moment of the Annunciation was fulfilled in Mary, at the moment when the Virgin responded to Gabriel's words: "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be done to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38).
As the mystery of Mary's motherhood was revealed to Joseph's consciousness, he, "being a just man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, resolved to divorce her quietly" (Mt 1:19), as Matthew's account continues.
And it was then that Joseph, Mary's husband and already her husband before the law, received his own personal "Annunciation".
During the night, he heard the words we quoted above, words that are both an explanation and an invitation from God: "Do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife" (Mt 1:20).
3. At the same time, God entrusts to Joseph the mystery whose fulfilment had been awaited for many generations by the line of David and the whole "house of Israel", and at the same time entrusts to him everything on which the fulfilment of this mystery in the history of the People of God depends.
From the moment these words entered his consciousness, Joseph became the man of divine election: the man of a special trust. His place in the history of salvation was defined. Joseph entered this place with simplicity and humility, in which the spiritual depth of man is manifested, and he filled it completely with his life.
"When Joseph awoke from sleep," we read in Matthew, "he did as the angel of the Lord had commanded him" (Mt 1:24). These few words say it all. They describe Joseph's entire life and fully characterise his holiness: "He did." Joseph, as we know him from the Gospel, is a man of action.
He is a man of work. The Gospel has not preserved any of his words. Instead, it describes his actions: simple, everyday actions, which at the same time have a clear meaning for the fulfilment of the divine promise in human history; works full of spiritual depth and mature simplicity.

[Pope John Paul II, homily, 19 March 1980]

In this fourth and final Sunday of Advent, the Gospel (cf. Mt 1: 18-24) guides us towards Christmas through the experience of Saint Joseph, a figure seemingly in second place, but whose attitude encapsulates all Christian wisdom. He, together with John the Baptist and Mary, is one of the characters whom the liturgy proposes to us for the time of Advent; and of the three he is the most modest. He is one who does not preach, does not speak, but tries to do God’s will; and he does it in the style of the Gospel and the Beatitudes. Let us think of: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5: 3). And Joseph is poor because he lives on what is essential, he works, he lives by his work; it is the poverty typical of those who are aware that they depend on God for everything, and place all their trust in Him.

Today’s Gospel passage presents a situation that is in human terms embarrassing and conflicting. Joseph and Mary are betrothed; they do not yet live together, but she is expecting a child by the work of God. Joseph, faced with this surprise, is naturally disturbed but, instead of reacting in an impulsive and punitive manner – as was the custom, the law protected him – he seeks a solution that respects the dignity and integrity of his beloved Mary. The Gospel says so: “And her husband Joseph, being a just man and unwilling to put her to shame, resolved to divorce her quietly” (v. 19). Joseph knew that if he denounced his betrothed, he would expose her to serious consequences, even death. He had full faith in Mary, whom he chose as his bride. He does not understand, but he seeks another solution.

This inexplicable circumstance leads him to question their bond; therefore, with great suffering, he decides to detach himself from Mary without creating scandal. But the Angel of the Lord intervenes to tell him that the solution he proposes is not the one desired by God. On the contrary, the Lord opened a new path for him, a path of union, love and happiness, and said to him: “Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife. For that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit” (v. 20).

At this point, Joseph trusts God totally, obeys the Angel’s words and takes Mary with him. It was precisely this unshakable trust in God that enabled him to accept a humanly difficult and, in a certain sense, incomprehensible situation. Joseph understands, in faith, that the child born in Mary’s womb is not his child, but the Son of God, and he, Joseph, will be its guardian, fully assuming its earthly paternity. The example of this gentle and wise man exhorts us to lift up our gaze and push it further. It is a question of recovering the surprising logic of God which, far from small or great calculations, is made up of openness towards new horizons, towards Christ and His Word.

May the Virgin Mary and her chaste husband Joseph help us to listen to Jesus Who comes, and Who asks to be welcomed in our plans and in our choices.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 22 December 2019]

From religion to Faith, from barren to Beloved one

(Lk 1:26-38)

The solemnity of the moment that restores the soul to the Mystery invites a passage wave upon wave: from the Temple religion to domestic and personal Faith.

From outside to inside ourselves. From patterns to innate prophecy. Unique Promise, more subtle condition.

Faith-surrender - that of Mother - which shows the freedom and beauty of the new orientations, in the progress of the inner guiding images.

Alliance no longer for what is already known.

His Pact is all in the Opening to the Inexplicable that lives inside us. 

Intimate Eternal, which can now concretize the hope and the journey of the peoples. A turning point of authenticity, growing.

If the heart’s virgins do not impose demands, the Call by Name (from our own fibers) opens the incapable and sterile breath.

Ad coeli Reginam: silent Echo... this invisible core-Vocation is startling. And with spontaneous virtue introduces the spirit into the fruitful synergy of God himself.

Spousal Trust that re-annotate the threads of the history of salvation: and is opposed to the broad road of alliances with people "who matter".

In the intertwining between fruitfuling Initiative and welcome into the bosom, the Handmaiden is icon of the expectation and the way of each one - where what remains decisive is not the usual, predictable desire.

Vibrant Appeal that is prolonged through history, in a sort of unfolded and continuous Incarnation, thanks to the collaboration of “distant”, unstable and insignificant servants, like Mary.

Ours too, despite us still being filled of normal expectations.

To internalize and live the message:

Which Words open us to life in the Spirit and question the foreseen path?

What is our still intermediate zone, without Encounter?

How to make the invisible Seed bloom

The Tao Tê Ching (Lxi) says: «The great kingdom which held itself below is the confluence of the world; is the female of the world. The female always overcomes the male with the quiet, since she is modestly submissive. For this reason, the great kingdom which places below the small kingdom attracts the small kingdom; the small kingdom that is below the great kingdom attracts the great kingdom: one lowers to attract, the other attracts because below. […] In order for each one to obtain what he craves, it’s better for the great to keep down».

God at home, and Visits we would not expect?

Slowing down a little, we are Born.

[Weekday liturgy, December 20]

Mary, the Art of Perception that breaks the mould

(Lk 2:19) (Lk 1:26-38)

For a life from the authentic I to the unknown Culmination

"Now, Mary kept and treasured all - really all - these event-words, putting them together and comparing them in her heart" [sense of the Greek text].

What about her, her Son and all the others?

She wanted to understand the essential affinities - with the soul and elsewhere: the meaning of strange and simple happenings. Golden rule for us also.

In the portrait of Jesus suckling, his silence did not linger - and he did not allow himself to be demotivated: he dug.

For this she knew far more expressive things than many minds - sublime and yet incapable of breaking out of automatisms, already flooded with remarkable doctrines and traditions.

We are willingly there too, with Mary; in a culture that invades our senses and pollutes our souls with noisy opinions, with seemingly eloquent but knee-jerk models: stressful and futile.

All emphatic, impactful reproductions - but external.

Yet they overflow into the inner self, and despite glittering appearances, lock the personality into a narrow space of unhealthy habits, only to be exhibited.

Indeed, we force ourselves to run from one side to the other, often reciting prototypes. Precisely, forcibly intrigued by plans, organigrams and thoughts, even devout ones, which however become forms of personal and social trivialisation.

We are becoming accustomed to the fear of our discreet, reserved, non-gossipy, secluded, hidden side, all our own and close to the Source: in a word, custodian of the Calling by Name - which wants to pause to return to the ancient Listening of the new.

A side we do not yet know: it never has the same tone as always. It is all ours, but it hints at real encounters.

By refining our inner vision, we grasp our source and the meaning of history; and its folds - thus we can still give birth to the precious world inside and outside of us.

We do this from the intangible, which acts as the pivot of essence. And guards the Fire within.

For a stretch - ever so brief - the official pundits delude us that we are at the centre of the world.

They want to inoculate us with the false sense of protagonism and permanence that quickly fades away; in fact, they overwhelm us.

We feel the need for a rediscovery of being and essence, not dissolved in the realm of night and illusion [to have power appear, to hold back ascend dominate]. Without escapes, nor rhythms that do not belong to us.

We seek involvement, and distance.

We want to 'perceive' like Mary and like the shepherds - baffled by the religious opinions of others - to become and be reborn, and to become again. Recovering the frenzies, the surprises, the wounds; without dispersing the centre.

"Taking refuge" in a secret space was not for her a rediscovery of the self expected by all, stereotypical and adequate as always.

Rather, he expressed his being - in flight from conventional ways.

In order to live intensely, she did not wish to enter into the nomenclature - then be normal, and enslaved - rather to distance herself, but to be there. So she did not exclude anything.

She also recognised herself in those wanderers.

She would never have imagined herself as the (acting) protagonist of a tradition that placed her on pedestals, forms, solemn attributes, and constraints - the very ones that would have made her sweetly but decisively rebellious.

She did not revisit herself to bask, but rather to verify and reactivate her 'way' - which she did not want to lose: it could be overwhelmed by external opinions and buried by circumstances [impelling but without horizon].

She did not want to lose her address within common, standardised goals, losing sight of what she really was, and introducing her into the heaven of the timeless - nor did she yearn to resemble the majority, or to be above them.

The one we built for her was not her home.

Mary did not face reality and today within us [to help us look at "our" Mystery] with a conformist face; sweetened and artefactual, or intimist, swampy.

Her soul was always on the move. To know the unknowable, she would never stop - even without knowing in advance where to go.

Her character did not want the certainties of accommodation. Without wavering, even within herself she preferred to perceive and live the Passion of love.

He let himself be guided and saved, but from his own sacred centre, sanctuary of the God-Con. He who unlocks, sets us on our way, and sets us free.

She could not allow her Vocation to be covered by idols, nor by any plot, which was nevertheless unfolding.

In the 'here and now' he found his affinity from his very being as a wayfarer, who by advancing put hardship behind him.

As she developed her inner eye, she also transmuted her inner self to find the step of the Annunciation hidden in the misfits, which still led her.

Only this lasted her through the years - not the functional side.He did not dream of a quiet life, but of understanding his personal mission.

Without naivety, she questioned the meaning of her intimate callings, of the happenings, of the ways, and of her motions - alien only to the anxiety of pleasing everyone.

She wished to understand how best to fit in, moving towards the new promised land [cf. Lk 1:29: "But she was greatly troubled by the Word and wondered what greeting this was"; Lk 1:34: "How shall this be?"].

The stillness within was not uniform, but filled with the vicissitudes and unpredictable 'news'.

Never did she want to be a model: an expired identity card - plastered, dogmatic. Never an icon of privilege, and ostentatious - like a woman who extinguishes her consciousness, and makes herself identified, empty, disjointed.

In the midst of others - even the lazy, indiscreet ones - Maria let herself be, perceiving the inaudible sounds of the silence of the soul.

Notes that produced her figure and - even better - her evolution and Destiny, without disturbing her with separate stubbornness.

Removing the gaze from conformist intention.

To really exist, intensely, she changed or broke through; she recovered history but listened to the inside of herself.

Catching her own deep layers, perceiving herself in her most intimate voices, she became aware of the meaning of her life, and of the unfolding story. 

In the intervals of thought, she reactivated the energy of the 'gaze'.

And without mortification, she brought her attention to another dimension, gradually entering the Wind that ceaselessly disengaged her.

In this way, he learnt not to expect something aligned to normal intentions and predictions, nor to social and cultural ranking: he had to enter into the events, and detach himself (to contemplate their importance and depth).

Mysteriously - thus peering without doing too much - he read the 'notes', chose the right registers; he interpreted the score.

Epiphany of God in a creature completely devoid of hieratic or courtly style; rather, delicate and gypsy.

She did not rush to put things in place: she sensed 'inside' the summary life, rather than leading it and organising it, or arranging it.

He waited for his eminent Self to lead the strange, non-directed, non-voluntarist path that was unfolding, truly all eccentric and unexemplary.

She did not act to please.

We also learn in her: to see the domestic God happen, the 'visits' we would not expect; the intensity of different colours.

They then lead us to a different look into the soul as well; involved and detached.

Like the surrounding reality, Mary was not always the same.

She did not have in mind a champion to chase to the end, only to find herself chronicled in the exemplarity of others - uprooted, external, dissipated and unloaded.

Situations and emotions had value, not only and not primarily on the basis of the paradigm register - now useless - with which they were interpreted.

In the hope of things present and in their sensitive Listening, she was acquiring fluidity.

In this way, she passed unforced from the religion of the fathers to the Faith, to the risk of friendship in the unpredictable proposal of the one Father.

Retreating into the Abode of the Spirit, within a Hope that unveiled itself wave by wave, she learned to understand relationships and inner energies, unpacked.

Once listened to and assumed, they could deviate, and take precisely the unexpected path.

Step by step, the attentive eye, ear and heart also introduce us - like Mary - into a territory of suspension of closed intentions. Where the love and destiny of the Newness of God dwells.

He expanded the Vision not just from around.

Unfolding her lost self in the We, not selective, but only from her own sacred centre, the horizon also dilated in the sensation of infinity in action.

In contemplating events, she would flesh out and even reinvent the figure of the heart that had guided her there.

She still reinterpreted the expressive image of her Vocation. And it changed its destiny - not giving weight to one-sided angles.

No obligations and chiselled intentions - against the tide but natural, without the laceration of titanic efforts.

Thus even the hardships brought her closer to her Mission as Mother of the new humanity, in her Son.

And each one equally rediscovered the energy of the primordial suggestion that led him or her, so that in Meditation he or she might once again embrace the Calling that still wants to snatch him or her from the mire.

Echo of the Primal Call that is woven into the events and is already the Destination.

Witnessing every moment to be rediscovered in the "intimate and full void" to be made within, to wait for something we do not know what it is first.

Mary let herself be traced in time by unpatented Love.

Such are the Dreams of creatures totally immersed in the true passions, which grasp, anticipate and actualise the timelessness in time.He did not give up wondering what - with its many aspects - was inhabiting it and silently guiding it.

We still imagine it (v.19) 'as with eyes closed': a situation our culture often ignores.

She did not think of efficient causes: it was to rediscover otherwise her opening the door to visitors, and to each new thing to be astonished.

She was already nursing, not only her Son; at the same time she was feeding herself.

Not out of vain intimism did he rediscover the subtle Mystery nested in the different - and raw - unpredictable within and without.

Without realising it, it was already feeding the world, guarding itself.

Truly, she comes to us and in us, tending the nest of essence and history... without any semblance of banners and display cases - respecting only what happens.

Similarly, her entire Family becomes the true fruitful lady of an impossible Feast of the Announcement around - which one does not understand where it came from (Lk 1:20).

Certainly from nothing outside. Therefore decisive.

Totally adherent to circumstances and present in himself, he became completely - in the clear and spontaneous motions, even of others.

Certainly he had no people around him who could boast of screens. Just strange individuals, but who ceaselessly let their vital instincts emerge.

They too did not tell each other beforehand where to go. That is why they found themselves in an incessant pregnancy.

All they had in store was the experience of distance; often frost and rejection. 

They never knew a figure who helped them to recognise themselves completely, and to look at things from the point of view of the timelessly discovered gentleness.

Even capable of tending to the wider and more inclusive global [we would say, to the servant eternity of the angelic condition].

Instead, they were set ablaze by the everlasting Flame - that of the whole world (past, present and future) that knows how to recover and stay hidden, apart but in the cosmos - as the dawn and day of the Lord.

In the culture of the time, the condition of the spirits of the heavenly throne service, who glorified and praised God (v.20) "for all that they had heard and seen".

Faced with the domestic Church Family, in Mary and Jesus the shepherds have a decisive experience.

No longer of one-sided lack and judgement, but of rebirth in esteem; of another world, available and inclusive - of another realm, unison without uniformity.

The Mother of God is a possibility of tending to the eternal present, no longer exclusive: but like a dance, where the changing whole puts one perfectly at ease - with no tracks to follow already.

Society's oddballs, pilgrims and prairie dogs in hiding, skilled only in transhumance, had perhaps never had the ability to recognise the ecstasy of being well and intensely in the summation.

Perhaps they had never had the experience of recognising in an accurate creature their own sensitive, tender and feminine side.

Appearance that in the authentic Woman Church becomes the guardian and differently announcer [in the shaky] of the treasure chest of Life.

From the warmth of Mary and the Cradle, amidst their labyrinths, they now brought to their own secluded place a thrilling blessing, and the indestructible intimate side; even elsewhere.

To question ourselves as well.

We seek a silent soul, for an art of rebirth.

Here was Maria: she had noticed, as she meditated, that others reflexively did too.

When she carved out preparatory energies, she also arranged herself in a more balanced, fuller way for the Announcement.

He walked through life to guard and nurture new fathers and mothers of humanisation. 

Not to comment, but to intuit and dissolve; not to extinguish the dreamy side with the 'up to the mark', old.

Her realm of truthfulness that heals the I and the Thou was the heaven and earth of new powers.

Reliable virtues because they sprang from the Silence of the Way that was completely renewing her - loving contradictions. 

Because everything can now happen, regenerate; and each day bring its tide (of the unprecedented) in the presence of Spirit, without routine.

A genuine soul, devoid of pretense, can do that.

For an adventure that pushes away continuity, filled with foundational Eros; for a direct exploration to the unknown Culmination.

Mary: Slowing down a little, one is born

Those who do not follow innate intuitions, a call more radical than the self, or stunning proclamations [Lk 1:26-38. 2:8-15] do not develop their destiny, do not move; they do not set things right.

Common proclamations end up incinerating personalities.

It is true that the shepherds find nothing extraordinary or prodigious but a family reduced to an ordinary condition, which they know.

But it is that simple hearth that draws them into the new Project, and into the proclamation of its scandalous unconditional Mercy - which did not electrocute them for impurity.

Archaic religion had branded them forever: lost, despicable beings, without remedy. Now they are free from identification.They have another eye - like that of the first time. A look that will bring them one hundred per cent.

Exodus facing a defenceless image of God, they do not bother to engage in ethical discipline: it would have crumbled them.

Rather, they enjoy the wonder of a simply human reality - in a mysterious relationship of mutual recognition.

A baby in a manger, an unclean place where the beasts used to play.

It is strange that the modest sign convinces them, makes them regain esteem, and makes them evangelisers - perhaps not even assiduous evangelisers.

Like Calvary (to which it refers), the resolving Manifestation of the Eternal is a paradox.

But the affective geography of this Bethlehem devoid of conformist circuits remains intact, because it is spontaneously rooted in us.

There is a sense of immediacy, without any particular entanglement or ceremony.

The Child is not even worshipped by the now 'pure' gazes of the little, vilified prairie dogs and transhumance dogs - as, conversely, the Magi will do (Mt 2:11).

They did not even know what it meant, reflecting Eastern court ceremonials - like the kissing of red slippers.

[This is why Pope Francis rejected them, along with the ermine - after Paul VI had had the courage to lay down the pluridirigist sign of tiaras, with its three overlapping crowns; a little more intricate was the affair of the anachronistic gestatorial chair].

The wretched of the earth and the distant of the flocks are those who hear the Announcement, readily verify it, and found the new divine lineage.

People untroubled by static judgement - men in the midst of all; no longer at high altitude.

Meanwhile, Mary sought the meaning of surprises and thus regenerated, for a new way of understanding and 'being' together - to give birth also to the inner world of a whole different people of fullness.

She would put facts and Word together, to discover the common thread.

And to remain receptive; not to be swayed by the convictions of the devotional enclosures - targetted and inflexible, which would have given her no escape.

The Mother herself, though taken by surprise, prepared herself for God's eccentricity, without departing from time and her real condition.

Her figure and that of the shepherds question us, demand the courage of an answer - but after letting the same kind of inner Presences flow: worthy visitors, who are allowed to express themselves.

Like us, she too had to move from the beliefs of the fathers to Faith in the Father.

From the idea of love as reward to that of 'gift'.

From the practice of cults and closures that do not make one intimate with the Eternal at all, to the opening of the mind and the exits.

She did not achieve this without effort, but rather by enduring the resistance of her arid environment.

Jesus was indeed circumcised - a useless rite that according to custom claimed to change the Son of God into the son of Abraham.

The Good News proclaims a reversal: what religion had considered far from the Most High is very close to Him; indeed, it corresponds fully to Him.

Never before imagined.

In the Annunciations of the Gospels, the adventure of Faith is opened wide.

And the new Babe has a Name that expresses the unprecedented essence of Saviour, not executioner.

His whole story will also be fully instructive from the point of view of how to internalise uncertainties and discomforts: these 'no moments' and precariousness that teach us how to live.

Indeed, we too, like Mary, 'recognise' the presence of God in the enigmas of Scripture, in the Little One 'wrapped in bandages' - even in the ancestral echo of our inner worlds.

And we let ourselves go - we don't really know where. But so is the Infinite, the immense Secret, the inexplicable Breath, in its folds.

The wise Dream that inhabits the human knows of ancient humus, but its echo is reborn every day, in the tide of being that directs one to truly 'look', without veils.

A conformist demeanour of 'seeing things' would not solve the problem.

Sometimes, in order not to be conditioned, we need to rebuild ourselves in silence, like the Virgin; to build a kind of hermeneutic island that opens different doors, that introduces other lights.

Within her sacred circuit, the Mother of God also valorised the innate transformative energies, precisely by rooting them in the questions...

Thus returning to her primordial being and the sense of the Newborn - an image steeped in primordial sense and life-wave, dear to many cultures.

Mary entered an Elsewhere and did not leave the field of the real.

She was 'inside' her Centre, unhurried - searching for the Sun drowned in her being and which returned, emerged, resurrected; from within, it made her exist beyond.

Thus he did not allow himself to be absorbed by the conformist ideas of others or by [external] situations that wanted to break the balance.

In her veracious solitude - filled with Grace - that superior and hidden self in essence came more and more to Her. He made himself a new Dawn and guide.She did not want to live inside thoughts, knowledge and reasoning around - none capable of amplifying life - all in the hands of the drugs of procedures, dehumanising the Enchantment.

The happy magic of that Frugolo of flesh brought her Peace.

Dreams sustained and conveyed her nest and inner core - causing new life to flow from the core of her Person, and the youth of the world.

"Now Mary kept all Word-events by comparing them in her heart".

He was conceived by the Holy Spirit

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Once again the Nativity of the Lord illuminates the gloom that often envelops our world and our hearts and with its light brings hope and joy. Where does this light come from? From the Bethlehem Grotto where the shepherds found “Mary and Joseph, and the babe, lying in a manger” (Lk 2:16). Another, deeper question arises before this Holy Family: how can that tiny, frail Child have brought into the world a newness so radical that it changed the course of history? Is there not perhaps something mysterious about his origins which goes beyond that grotto?

The question of Jesus’ origins recurs over and over again. It is the same question that the Procurator Pontius Pilate asked during the trial: “where are you from?” (Jn 19:9). Yet his origins were quite clear. In John’s Gospel when the Lord says: “I am the bread which came down from heaven”, the Jews reacted, murmuring: “is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How does he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” (Jn 6:41, 42).

Moreover, a little later the citizens of Jerusalem strongly opposed Jesus’ messianic claim, asserting that “where this man comes from” was well known; and that “when the Christ appears, no one will know where he comes from” (Jn 7:27). Jesus himself points out how inadequate their claim to know his origins is and by so doing he already offers a clue to knowing where he came from: “I have not come of my own accord; he who sent me is true, and him you do not know” (Jn 7:28). Jesus was of course a native of Nazareth, he was born in Bethlehem; but what is known of his true origins?

In the four Gospels, the answer is clear as to where Jesus “comes from”. His true origins are in the Father, God; he comes totally from him [God], but in a different way from that of any of God’s prophets or messengers who preceded him. This origin in the mystery of God, “whom no one knows” is already contained in the infancy narratives in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke that we are reading during this Christmastide. The Angel Gabriel proclaimed: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God” (Lk 1:35).

We repeat these words every time we recite the Creed, the Profession of Faith: “Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto, ex Maria Virgine”, “and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary”. At this sentence we kneel, for the veil that concealed God is lifted, as it were, and his unfathomable and inaccessible mystery touches us: God becomes the Emmanuel, “God-with-us”. When we hear the Masses written by the great composers of sacred music — I am thinking, for example, of Mozart’s Coronation Mass — we immediately notice how they pause on this phrase in a special way, as if they were trying to express in the universal language of music what words cannot convey: the great mystery of God who took flesh, who was made man.

If we consider carefully the words: “by the Holy Spirit [he] was incarnate of the Virgin Mary”, we notice that they include four active subjects. The Holy Spirit and Mary are mentioned explicitly, but “he”, namely, the Son, who took flesh in the Virgin’s womb, is implicit. In the Profession of Faith, the Creed, Jesus is described with several epithets: “Lord... Christ, Only-Begotten Son of God... God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God... consubstantial with the Father” (Niceno-Constantinopolitan Creed). We can therefore see that “he” refers to another person, the Father. Consequently the first subject of this sentence is the Father who, with the Son and the Holy Spirit, is the one God.

This affirmation of the Creed does not concern God’s eternal being but, rather, speaks to us of an action in which the three divine Persons take part and which is brought about “ex Maria Virgine”. Without Mary God’s entry into the history of humanity would not have achieved its purpose, and what is central to our Profession of Faith would not have taken place: God is a “God-with-us”. Thus Mary belongs irrevocably to our faith in God who acts, who enters history. She makes her whole person available, she “agrees” to become God’s dwelling place.

Sometimes, on our journey and in our life of faith, we can sense our poverty, our inadequacy in the face of the witness we must offer to the world. However God chose, precisely, a humble woman, in an unknown village, in one of the most distant provinces of the great Roman Empire. We must always trust in God, even in the face of the most gruelling difficulties, renewing our faith in his presence and action in our history, just as in Mary’s. Nothing is impossible to God! With him our existence always journeys on safe ground and is open to a future of firm hope.

In professing in the Creed: “by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary”, we affirm that the Holy Spirit, as the power of the Most High God, mysteriously brought about in the Virgin Mary the conception of the Son of God. The Evangelist Luke recorded the Archangel Gabriel’s words: “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you” (1:35).

Two references are obvious: the first is to the moment of the Creation. At the beginning of the Book of Genesis we read that “the Spirit of God was moving over the face of the waters” (1:2); this is the Creator Spirit who gave life to all things and to the human being. What is brought about in Mary, through the action of this same divine Spirit, is a new creation: God, who called forth being from nothing, by the Incarnation gives life to a new beginning of humanity. The Fathers of the Church sometimes speak of Christ as the new Adam in order to emphasize that the new creation began with the birth of the Son of God in the Virgin Mary’s womb. This makes us think about how faith also brings us a newness so strong that it produces a second birth. Indeed, at the beginning of our life as Christians there is Baptism, which causes us to be reborn as children of God and makes us share in the filial relationship that Jesus has with the Father. And I would like to point out that Baptism is received, we “are baptized” — it is passive — because no one can become a son of God on his own. It is a gift that is freely given. St Paul recalls this adoptive sonship of Christians in a central passage of his Letter to the Romans, where he writes: “all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the spirit of sonship. When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is the Spirit himself bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Rom 8:14-16), not slaves. Only if we open ourselves to God’s action, like Mary, only if we entrust our life to the Lord as to a friend whom we totally trust, will everything change, will our whole life acquire a new meaning, a new aspect: that of children with a father who loves us and never deserts us.

We have spoken of two elements: the first was the Spirit moving on the surface of the waters, the Creator Spirit: there is another element in the words of the Annunciation. The Angel said to Mary: “The power of the Most High will overshadow you”. This is an re-evocation of the holy cloud that, during the Exodus, halted over the tent of meeting, over the Ark of the Covenant that the People of Israel were carrying with them and that indicated God’s presence (cf. Ex 40:34-38).

Mary, therefore, is the new holy tent, the new ark of the covenant: with her “yes” to the Archangel’s words, God received a dwelling place in this world, the One whom the universe cannot contain took up his abode in a Virgin’s womb.

Let us therefore return to the initial question, the one about Jesus’ origins that is summed up by Pilate’s question: “where are you from?”. What Jesus’ true origins are is clear from our reflections, from the very beginning of the  Gospels: he is the Only-Begotten Son of the Father, he comes from God. We have before us the great and overwhelming mystery which we are celebrating in this Christmas season. The Son of God, through the work of the Holy Spirit, was incarnate in the womb of the Virgin Mary. This is an announcement that rings out ever new and in itself brings hope and joy to our hearts because, every time, it gives us the certainty that even though we often feel weak, poor and incapable in the face of the difficulties and evil in the world, God’s power is always active and works miracles through weakness itself. His grace is our strength (cf. 2 Cor 12:9-10). Many thanks.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 2 January 2013]

1. I have longed to come back to the town of Jesus, to feel once again, in contact with this place, the presence of the woman of whom Saint Augustine wrote: “He chose the mother he had created; he created the mother he had chosen” (Sermo 69, 3, 4). Here it is especially easy to understand why all generations call Mary blessed (cf. Lk 2:48).

I warmly greet Your Beatitude Patriarch Michel Sabbah, and thank you for your kind words of presentation. With Archbishop Boutros Mouallem and all of you – Bishops, priests, religious women and men, and members of the laity – I rejoice in the grace of this solemn celebration. I am happy to have this opportunity to greet the Franciscan Minister General, Father Giacomo Bini, who welcomed me on my arrival, and to express to the Custos, Father Giovanni Battistelli, and the Friars of the Custody the admiration of the whole Church for the devotion with which you carry out your unique vocation. With gratitude I pay tribute to your faithfulness to the charge given to you by Saint Francis himself and confirmed by the Popes down the centuries.

2. We are gathered to celebrate the great mystery accomplished here two thousand years ago. The Evangelist Luke situates the event clearly in time and place: “In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph. . . The virgin’s name was Mary” (1:26-27). But in order to understand what took place in Nazareth two thousand years ago, we must return to the Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews. That text enables us, as it were, to listen to a conversation between the Father and the Son concerning God’s purpose from all eternity. “You who wanted no sacrifice or oblation prepared a body for me. You took no pleasure in holocausts or sacrifices for sin. Then I said. . . ?God, here I am! I am coming to obey your will’” (10:5-7). The Letter to the Hebrews is telling us that, in obedience to the Father’s will, the Eternal Word comes among us to offer the sacrifice which surpasses all the sacrifices offered under the former Covenant. His is the eternal and perfect sacrifice which redeems the world.

The divine plan is gradually revealed in the Old Testament, particularly in the words of the Prophet Isaiah which we have just heard: “The Lord himself will give you a sign. It is this: the virgin is with child and will soon give birth to a child whom she will call Emmanuel” (7:14). Emmanuel - God with us. In these words, the unique event that was to take place in Nazareth in the fullness of time is foretold, and it is this event that we are celebrating here with intense joy and happiness.

3. Our Jubilee Pilgrimage has been a journey in spirit, which began in the footsteps of Abraham, “our father in faith” (Roman Canon; cf. Rom 4:11-12). That journey has brought us today to Nazareth, where we meet Mary, the truest daughter of Abraham. It is Mary above all others who can teach us what it means to live the faith of “our father”. In many ways, Mary is clearly different from Abraham; but in deeper ways “the friend of God” (cf. Is 41:8) and the young woman of Nazareth are very alike.

Both receive a wonderful promise from God. Abraham was to be the father of a son, from whom there would come a great nation. Mary is to be the Mother of a Son who would be the Messiah, the Anointed One. “Listen!”, Gabriel says, “ You are to conceive and bear a son. . . The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. . . and his reign will have no end” (Lk 1:31-33).

For both Abraham and Mary, the divine promise comes as something completely unexpected. God disrupts the daily course of their lives, overturning its settled rhythms and conventional expectations. For both Abraham and Mary, the promise seems impossible. Abraham’s wife Sarah was barren, and Mary is not yet married: “How can this come about”, she asks, “since I am a virgin?” (Lk 1:34).

4. Like Abraham, Mary is asked to say yes to something that has never happened before. Sarah is the first in the line of barren wives in the Bible who conceive by God’s power, just as Elizabeth will be the last. Gabriel speaks of Elizabeth to reassure Mary: “Know this too: your kinswoman Elizabeth has, in her old age, herself conceived a son” (Lk 1:36).

Like Abraham, Mary must walk through darkness, in which she must simply trust the One who called her. Yet even her question, “How can this come about?”, suggests that Mary is ready to say yes, despite her fears and uncertainties. Mary asks not whether the promise is possible, but only how it will be fulfilled. It comes as no surprise, therefore, when finally she utters her fiat: “I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let what you have said be done to me” (Lk 1:38). With these words, Mary shows herself the true daughter of Abraham, and she becomes the Mother of Christ and Mother of all believers.

5. In order to penetrate further into the mystery, let us look back to the moment of Abraham’s journey when he received the promise. It was when he welcomed to his home three mysterious guests (cf. Gen 18:1-15), and offered them the adoration due to God: tres vidit et unum adoravit. That mysterious encounter foreshadows the Annunciation, when Mary is powerfully drawn into communion with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Through the fiat that Mary uttered in Nazareth, the Incarnation became the wondrous fulfilment of Abraham’s encounter with God. So, following in the footsteps of Abraham, we have come to Nazareth to sing the praises of the woman “through whom the light rose over the earth” (Hymn Ave Regina Caelorum).

6. But we have also come to plead with her. What do we, pilgrims on our way into the Third Christian Millennium, ask of the Mother of God? Here in the town which Pope Paul VI, when he visited Nazareth, called “the school of the Gospel”, where “we learn to look at and to listen to, to ponder and to penetrate the deep and mysterious meaning of the very simple, very humble and very beautiful appearing of the Son of God” (Address in Nazareth, 5 January 1964), I pray, first, for a great renewal of faith in all the children of the Church. A deep renewal of faith: not just as a general attitude of life, but as a conscious and courageous profession of the Creed: “Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est.”

In Nazareth, where Jesus “grew in wisdom and age and grace before God and men” (Lk 2:52), I ask the Holy Family to inspire all Christians to defend the family against so many present-day threats to its nature, its stability and its mission. To the Holy Family I entrust the efforts of Christians and of all people of good will to defend life and to promote respect for the dignity of every human being.

To Mary, the Theotókos, the great Mother of God, I consecrate the families of the Holy Land, the families of the world.

In Nazareth where Jesus began his public ministry, I ask Mary to help the Church everywhere to preach the “good news” to the poor, as he did (cf. Lk 4:18). In this “year of the Lord’s favour”, I ask her to teach us the way of humble and joyful obedience to the Gospel in the service of our brothers and sisters, without preferences and without prejudices.

“O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me. Amen”

[Pope John Paul II, homily in Nazareth, 25 March 2000]

The bond between the Annunciation and the “Gospel of Life” is close and profound, as Saint John Paul emphasized in his Encyclical Letter. Today we find ourselves reviving this teaching within the context of a pandemic that threatens human life and the world economy. It is a situation that makes the words with which the Encyclical begins ever more demanding. Here they are: “The Gospel of life is at the heart of Jesus’ message. Lovingly received day after day by the Church, it is to be preached with dauntless fidelity as ‘good news’ to the people of every age and culture” (n. 1).

As with every proclamation of the Gospel, this too should firstly be witnessed. And I think with gratitude of the silent witness of many people who, in various ways, are doing everything they can in serving the sick, the elderly and those who are alone and most destitute. They put into practice the Gospel of Life, like Mary who, having accepted the Angel’s announcement, went to help her cousin Elizabeth who was in need.

Indeed, the life that we are called to promote and defend is not an abstract concept, but rather it is always manifested in a person in flesh and blood: a baby who has just been conceived, a marginalized poor person, a sick person who is disheartened or in a terminal ill state, one who has lost their job or cannot find one, a rejected or marginalized migrant.... Life manifests itself tangibly in people.

Each human being is called by God to enjoy the fullness of life; and, is entrusted to the maternal care of the Church, every threat to human dignity and life cannot but have an effect on her heart, on her maternal ‘womb’. To defend life is not an ideology for the Church. It is a reality; a human reality which involves all Christians, precisely because they are Christian and because they are human.

Unfortunately, attacks against people’s dignity and life still continue in our epoch, which is the age of universal human rights. Indeed, we are facing new threats and new forms of slavery, and laws do not always protect the weakest and most vulnerable human lives.

The message of the Encyclical Evangelium Vitae is thus more current than ever. Aside from the emergencies like the one we are experiencing now, it is a case of taking action on the cultural and educational level in order to transmit to future generations, the attitude of solidarity, care and welcome, in the full knowledge that the culture of life is not the exclusive heritage of Christians, but rather belongs to all those who, working to build fraternal relationships, recognize the value of each person, even when they are fragile and suffering.

Dear brothers and sisters, every human life, unique and unrepeatable, has value in and of itself; it is of inestimable value. This must always be proclaimed anew with the courage of the Word and the courage of actions. It calls us to solidarity and fraternal love for the great human family and for each of its members.

Thus, with Saint John Paul II, who wrote this Encyclical Letter, I reaffirm with renewed conviction the appeal he addressed to everyone 25 years ago: “respect, protect, love and serve life, every human life! Only in this direction will you find justice, development, true freedom, peace and happiness!” (Encyclical Letter, Evangelium Vitae, n. 5).

[Pope Francis, General Audience 25 March 2020]

Parent’s parent, for a different events’ reading

(Lk 1:5-25)

Lk places the Angel Gabriel’s visit to Zechariah next to the Annunciation to Mary (vv.26ss), in order to help his communities perceive the differences between religious order and life of Faith.

Even today, the comparison allows the leap between First and Second Covenants to be read in watermark.

In ancient religion it’s taken for granted that the place of encounter and dialogue with God is as planned: an inviolable and venerating enclosure, scented with incense - in the echo of invocations and songs with a fixed formula.

Here without exceptional cues, Zechariah’s belief [«zachàr-Ja»: the Lord of Israel ‘remembers’] doesn’t become personal, but repetitive, motionless.

By dint of commemorating and waiting, the priest of God and of the people no longer expects for anything decisive.

Engaged in the rite mechanism, he is not «blessed» (v.45) but unhappy; ‘mute’ because he no longer has anything to say to those waiting outside the temple.

No real blessing to pass on to people (vv.21-22).

So partly Elizabeth, who is hiding (v.24), while the Virgin - without asking permission - makes Exodus from her environment and rushes to serve her (vv.39ss).

And to trigger a more just and communal life, of the «well-disposed people» (v.17c) - here is a first shot: the mission of John, a figure of the expected return of the prophet Elijah (v.17a). Witness called to recover the hopes of the people and their torn social fabric.

Finally, this "reconstruction" will have an unforeseen outcome, far from prejudices: no longer the normal continuity of an obvious generational pact (Mal 3:23-24) but the definitive return of the heart of the fathers to the sons (v.17b)!

The meaning of the name ‘John’ [Yhwh is Merciful, He manifested his Benevolence, He made Grace] does not allude to some act of compassionate paternalism on the divine side - but to a precise cut from the lineage and from the ancient expectations or costumances, now an end in themselves.

In the Bible the term Mercy describes the Eternal’s different attention and fruitful action in favor of anyone in need - in desperate situations. Intervention necessary for a different genesis: epochal, which makes incredible life and reckless mission sprout, not according to predictions - not even by repeating intentions.

The Name that deviates from tradition is parable of God’s faithful testimony: from now on we must not only "remember" the still immobilized prophecies, without seeing their unpredictable implementation.

While assimilating the spiritual riches of the people, discontinuity marks the beginning of a completely new age.

It’s the transition to ‘personal’ fulfilment, and to a Kingdom that says Yes to everything it faces: that no longer decries the life of each one, of things, of the world.

The different reading of events and of inspirations allows us to become now fruitful - even fathers and mothers of our parents and ancestors.

[Weekday Liturgy, December 19]