Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni. Repeatedly during the season of Advent the Church’s liturgy prays in these or similar words. They are invocations that were probably formulated as the Roman Empire was in decline. The disintegration of the key principles of law and of the fundamental moral attitudes underpinning them burst open the dams which until that time had protected peaceful coexistence among peoples. The sun was setting over an entire world. Frequent natural disasters further increased this sense of insecurity. There was no power in sight that could put a stop to this decline. All the more insistent, then, was the invocation of the power of God: the plea that he might come and protect his people from all these threats.

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni. Today too, we have many reasons to associate ourselves with this Advent prayer of the Church. For all its new hopes and possibilities, our world is at the same time troubled by the sense that moral consensus is collapsing, consensus without which juridical and political structures cannot function. Consequently the forces mobilized for the defence of such structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita – the prayer recalls the cry addressed to the Lord who was sleeping in the disciples’ storm-tossed boat as it was close to sinking. When his powerful word had calmed the storm, he rebuked the disciples for their little faith (cf. Mt 8:26 et par.). He wanted to say: it was your faith that was sleeping. He will say the same thing to us. Our faith too is often asleep. Let us ask him, then, to wake us from the sleep of a faith grown tired, and to restore to that faith the power to move mountains – that is, to order justly the affairs of the world.

[Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia 20 December 2010]

The storm calmed on the Lake of Genesaret can be reread as a "sign" of Christ's constant presence in the "boat" of the Church, which many times throughout history is exposed to the fury of the winds during stormy hours. Jesus, awakened by the disciples, commands the winds and the sea to be becalmed. Then he says to them, "Why are you so fearful? Have you no faith yet?" (Mk 4:40). In this, as in other episodes, one can see Jesus' desire to inculcate in the apostles and disciples faith in his operative and protective presence even in the most stormy hours of history, in which doubt about his divine assistance could infiltrate the spirit. In fact, in Christian homiletics and spirituality, the miracle has often been interpreted as a 'sign' of Jesus' presence and a guarantee of trust in him on the part of Christians and the Church.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 2 December 1987]

Today’s liturgy tells the episode of the storm calmed by Jesus (Mk 4:35-41). The boat in which the disciples are crossing the lake is beaten by the wind and the waves and they fear they will sink. Jesus is with them on the boat, yet he is in the stern asleep on the cushion. Filled with fear, the disciples cry out to him: “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?” (v. 38).

And quite often we too, beaten by the trials of life, have cried out to the Lord: “Why do you remain silent and do nothing for me?”. Especially when it seems we are sinking, because love or the project in which we had laid great hopes disappears; or when we are at the mercy of unrelenting waves of anxiety; or when we feel we are drowning in problems or lost amid the sea of life, with no course and no harbour. Or even, in moments in which the strength to go forward fails us, because we have no job, or an unexpected diagnosis makes us fear for our health or that of a loved one. There are many moments when we feel we are in a storm; when we feel we are almost done in.

In these situations and in many others, we too feel suffocated by fear and, like the disciples, risk losing sight of the most important thing. In the boat, in fact, even if he is sleeping, Jesus is there, and he shares with his own all that is happening. If on the one hand his slumber surprises us, on the other, it puts us to the test. The Lord is there, present; indeed, he waits — so to speak — for us to engage him, to invoke him, to put him at the centre of what we are experiencing. His slumber causes us to wake up. Because to be disciples of Jesus, it is not enough to believe God is there, that he exists, but we must put ourselves out there with him; we must also raise our voice with him. Hear this: we must cry out to him. Prayer is often a cry: “Lord, save me!”. I was watching, on the programme “In his Image”, today, the Day of Refugees, many who come in large boats and at the moment of drowning cry out: “Save us!”. In our life too the same thing happens: “Lord, save us!”, and prayer becomes a cry.

Today we can ask ourselves: what are the winds that beat against my life? What are the waves that hinder my navigation, and put my spiritual life, my family life, even my psychological life in danger? Let us say all this to Jesus; let us tell him everything. He wants this; he wants us to grab hold of him to find shelter from the unexpected waves in life. The Gospel recounts that the disciples approach Jesus, wake him and speak to him (cf. v. 38). This is the beginning of our faith: to recognize that alone we are unable to stay afloat; that we need Jesus like sailors need the stars to find their course. Faith begins from believing that we are not enough for ourselves, from feeling in need of God. When we overcome the temptation to close ourselves off, when we overcome the false religiosity that does not want to disturb God, when we cry out to him, he can work wonders in us. It is the gentle and extraordinary power of prayer, which works miracles.

Jesus, begged by the disciples, calms the wind and waves. And he asks them a question, a question which also pertains to us: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” (v. 40). The disciples were gripped with fear, because they were focused on the waves more than on looking at Jesus. And fear leads us to look at the difficulties, the awful problems, and not to look at the Lord, who many times is sleeping. It is this way for us too: how often we remain fixated on problems rather than going to the Lord and casting our concerns to him! How often we leave the Lord in a corner, at the bottom of the boat of life, to wake him only in a moment of need! Today, let us ask for the grace of a faith that never tires of seeking the Lord, of knocking at the door of his Heart. May the Virgin Mary, who in her life never stopped trusting in God, reawaken in us the basic need of entrusting ourselves to him each day.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 20 June 2021]

Full dedication, but for a our own’s crossing

(Mt 8:18-22)

Continuing to venerate certainties, points of reference and habits, one can only manage a world of the dead (v.22).

Whoever welcomes Christ opens himself to a Newness - splendid but risky - that he doesn’t know.

The believer must take into account that we are all called to make strenuous crossings to other shores (v.18), compared to the usual.

To overcome this insecurity and the natural fear, initial enthusiasm is not enough.

In view of the difficult moments of evangelization, it is good that the son of God understands his forces or inclinations - and whether they are able to lead him to the point of transgressing even indispensable bonds (v.21).

Not for effort and "resilience". In this way we do not waste attention and energy to sustain things that have no future (v.22).

From the earliest times the Risen One was not identified as a simple model of deprivation and humiliation, to be "imitated".

The Lord was a non-external Motive and an (all intimate) Engine of new life. That’s the point.

Religions teach only one "matter": the story and style of the Founder, which makes you learn beautiful "notions" and heroic deeds.

In the spirituality of the Passage in Christ to other shores [v.18] one can only be in synergy with the Source that gushes inside.

Growth will be faithful to its own Seed. Flowering will be commesurate on the Roots and flow of the Sap, not on the protrusion of the leaves.

In the adventure of Faith our Core generates us and leads us to introduce in the relationship with ourselves, with others and things, in the most different way.

Love is spontaneous and risky; it never has the outline of the standard mechanisms.

In following the Lord there is sobriety, yet pre-established schemes are lacking. As in Friendship: it too is "unsafe", but there is a Source.

It's the unprecedented personal that in the labours continues to convey creative Joy - and makes us take to the field, to remain qualitative and profound.

Lack of imposed tracks teaches the Road of spontaneity that opens stunning breaches.

Nature itself recovers the opposites and sides in half-light, or dim, considered superfluous.

Here we draw on the genuineness of our particular essence, in an uncontaminated way from cerebral or customary taboos.

Discovering it more faceted than we thought.

Moving away from obvious judgments (and from getting along with the mannerisms around) we are introduced to the green light of independence and vocational wealth.

Under the action of the Spirit, it will be precisely in real danger that everyone will finally access the ‘mystical dimension of the Following’.

What if we continue to feel the vertigo of the continuous crossings - of a task too great for such an inferior «me», incapable of constant performances, recognized?

But right here, without scaffolding, personally meeting the Lord, we have already perceived and felt with our whole being his subtle Appeal:

«I do not abandon yourself; you, do not leave yourself: Me in you».

[Monday 13th wk. in O.T.  June 30, 2025]

Full dedication, but for a crossing of our own

(Mt 8:18-22)

Jesus wants us to give new space to His Word; that by listening to Him, we allow Him to speak. And through our choices, that He becomes meaningful again.

His Word is demanding, but it frees us from ballasts, from mental cloaks that solidify in time and in our heads. Our real overburden.

The Sequela is simple but not facile. Easy, after all; in the gratuitousness of deep and immediate attunement, without external filters.

Continuing to venerate securities, landmarks and habits does nothing more than manage a world of the dead (v.22).

He who welcomes Christ opens himself to a Newness - splendid but risky - that he does not know.

The believer must take into account that we are all called to make tiring crossings to other shores (v.18) than the usual ones.

To overcome this insecurity and natural fear, initial enthusiasm is not enough.

In view of the hard times of evangelisation, it is good for the child of God to understand his own strengths or inclinations - and whether they are capable of leading him to the point of transgressing indispensable ties, family interests, "sacred" duties (v.21).

This is to allow new modes of expression and pastoral forms to emerge and flourish. Not by effort and 'resilience'.

It is useless to continue spending one's life propping up dead branches, keeping up sophisticated ideas or traditions, even if they are well established, squandering attention and energy to support things that have no future (v.22).

How do we find energy within ourselves when we are, for example, hindered and despised?

From the earliest times the Risen One was not identified as a mere model of hardship and humiliation, to be "imitated".

The Lord was a non-exterior motive and an (all-intimate) engine of new life. This is the point.

In religions only one "matter" is taught: the story and style of the Founder, who makes you learn splendid "notions" and heroic deeds.

In the spirituality of the Passage in Christ to other shores [v.18] one can only be in synergy with the Source that gushes within.

Growth will be true to one's Seed. Flowering will be commensurate with one's Roots and the flowing of the Sap, not with the prominence of the leaves.

In the adventure of Faith our Core generates us and brings us into relationship with ourselves, others and things, in the most diverse way.

Love is spontaneous and risky; it never has the outline of standard mechanisms.

In the following of the Lord, there is sobriety, yet there is a lack of predetermined patterns. As in Friendship: it too is "unsafe", but there is a Source.

So one does not waste one's life embalming graveyard chimeras, or chasing other people's ideas, disembodied fantasies, (or dehumanising violence) fashionable, which crumble us inside.

It is the personal unseen that in our travails continues to convey creative joy - and makes us take to the field, to remain qualitative and profound.

The lack of imposed binaries - typical of religions - teaches the Road of spontaneity that opens astounding breaches.

Nature itself recovers opposites and sides in the shadows, or shaky, considered superfluous.

Here we tap into the genuineness of our particular essence, transparently and uncontaminated by cerebral or customary taboos.

Discovering it to be more multifaceted than we thought.

Moving away from obvious judgements (and getting along with the mannerisms around) we are introduced to the Free Way of vocational independence and richness.

Under the action of the Spirit, it will be in real danger that each one will finally access the mystical dimension of the Sequela.

We will do so with polish and to the point of building the unthought-of completeness and Happiness for self and all.

Sometimes we, too, keep asking ourselves whether that Path we are treading is actually "ours".

And perhaps we continue to feel the vertigo or fear of the constant crossings - of a task too great, for such an inferior 'I', incapable of constant, recognised performance.

But right here, without scaffolding, personally encountering the Lord, we perceived and felt with our whole being his subtle Appeal:

"Do not forsake thyself: Me in thee".

To internalise and live the message:

What made you decide for the crossing? How did you leave everything or opinions behind?

Where do you share the hardship and joy of the intense and personal apostolate (e.g. in the cloister) or of the new evangelisation (e.g. among the slums)?

Do you do your utmost for the education of young people with varied training, and the action of dialogue and listening to those far away?

How do you approach the hardships and shady areas that you do not expect? Do you return to the reassuring den and nest?

The biblical readings of the Holy Mass [...] give me the opportunity to take up the theme of Christ's call and its requirements, a topic on which I also reflected a week ago, on the occasion of the ordinations of the new priests for the Diocese of Rome. In fact, those who have the good fortune to know a young man or woman who leaves the family and studies and works in order to consecrate him- or herself to God know well what is involved, for they have before them a living example of a radical response to the divine call. This is one of the most beautiful experiences one can have in the Church: seeing and actually touching the Lord's action in people's lives; experiencing that God is not an abstract entity but a reality so great and strong that it fills human hearts to overflowing, he is a Person, alive and close, who loves us and asks to be loved.

The Evangelist Luke presents to us Jesus, walking to Jerusalem, who meets some men on the road probably young men who promise they will follow him wherever he goes. Jesus proves very demanding with them and warns them that "the Son of Man", namely, the Messiah, "has nowhere to lay his head" that is to say, he has no permanent dwelling place of his own and that those who choose to work with him in God's field cannot turn back (cf. Lk 9:57-58; 61-62). On the other hand Christ says to someone else: "Follow me", asking him to sever completely his ties with his family (cf. Lk 9:59-60). These requirements may seem too harsh but in fact they express the newness and absolute priority of the Kingdom of God that is made present in the very Person of Jesus Christ. All things considered, it is a question of that radicalism that is due to the Love of God, whom Jesus himself was the first to obey. Those who give up everything, even themselves, to follow Jesus, enter into a new dimension of freedom that St Paul defines as "walk[ing] by the Spirit" (cf. Gal 5:16). "For freedom Christ has set us free", the Apostle writes, and he explains that this new form of freedom acquired from Christ consists in being "servants of one another" (Gal 5:1, 13). Freedom and love coincide! On the contrary, complying with one's own egoism leads to rivalry and conflict.

Dear friends, the month of June, characterized by the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Christ, is now coming to an end. On the Feast of the Sacred Heart we renewed our commitment to sanctification together with the priests of the whole world. Today, I would like to invite everyone to contemplate the mystery of the divine and human Heart of the Lord Jesus, to draw from the very source of God's Love. Those who fix their gaze on that pierced Heart that is ever open for our love sense the truth of this invocation: "You are my inheritance O Lord" (Responsorial Psalm), and are prepared to leave everything to follow the Lord. O Mary, who answered the divine call without reserve, pray for us!

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 27 June 2010]

1. Among the requests for renunciation made by Jesus to his disciples, there is the one concerning earthly goods, and in particular wealth (cf. Mt 19:21; Mk 10:21; Lk 12:33; 18:22). It is a request addressed to all Christians regarding the spirit of poverty, that is, the inner detachment from earthly goods, detachment that makes one generous in sharing them with others. Poverty is a life commitment inspired by faith in Christ and love for Him. It is a spirit. that also demands a practice, in a measure of renunciation of goods that corresponds to each person's condition both in civil life and in the state in which they find themselves in the Church by virtue of their Christian vocation, whether as an individual or as a member of a particular class of people. The spirit of poverty applies to all; a certain practice in conformity with the Gospel is necessary for each one.

2. The poverty Jesus demanded of the Apostles is a strand of spirituality that could not end with them, nor could it be reduced to particular groups: the spirit of poverty is necessary for everyone, in every place and at every time; to fail to do so would be to betray the Gospel. However, fidelity to the spirit does not imply, either for Christians in general or for priests, the practice of radical poverty with the renunciation of all property, or even the abolition of this human right. The Magisterium of the Church has repeatedly condemned those who advocated this necessity (cf. Denz. 760; 930-931; 1097), seeking to lead thought and practice along a path of moderation. However, it is comforting to note that, in the evolution of the times and under the influence of so many ancient and modern saints, the awareness of a call to evangelical poverty, both in spirit and in practice, in correlation with the demands of priestly consecration, has matured more and more in the clergy. The social and economic situations in which the clergy have found themselves in almost all the countries of the world have contributed to making the condition of real poverty of persons and institutions a reality, even when these by their very nature need many means to be able to fulfil their tasks. In many cases it is a difficult and distressing condition, which the Church tries to overcome in various ways, and mainly by appealing to the charity of the faithful to obtain from them the necessary contribution to provide for worship, works of charity, the maintenance of pastors of souls, and missionary initiatives. But the acquisition of a new sense of poverty is a blessing for priestly life, as for that of all Christians, because it allows one to better adapt to the counsels and proposals of Jesus.

3. Evangelical poverty - it is opportune to clarify this - does not entail contempt for earthly goods, made available by God to man for his life and for his collaboration in the design of creation. According to the Second Vatican Council, the presbyter - like every other Christian -, having a mission of praise and thanksgiving, must recognise and magnify the generosity of the heavenly Father which is revealed in created goods (Presbyterorum Ordinis, 17).

However, the Council adds, Presbyters, while living in the midst of the world must always keep in mind that, as the Lord has said, they do not belong to the world (cf. Jn 17:14-16), and must therefore free themselves from all disordered attachments, in order to acquire "the spiritual discretion that enables them to place themselves in right relationship with the world and earthly realities" (Ibid; cf. Pastores dabo vobis, 30). It must be recognised that this is a delicate issue. On the one hand, "the Church's mission takes place in the midst of the world, and created goods are entirely necessary for man's personal development. Jesus did not forbid his Apostles to accept the goods necessary for their earthly existence. On the contrary, he affirmed their right in this regard when he said in a mission speech: "Eat and drink of what they have, for the worker is worthy of his wages" (Lk 10:7; cf. Mt 10:10). St Paul reminds the Corinthians that "the Lord has ordained that those who proclaim the gospel should live by the gospel" (1 Cor 9:14). He himself insistently prescribes that "those who are instructed in doctrine should share in what they have with those who instruct them" (Gal 6:6). It is right, therefore, that presbyters should have earthly goods and use them "for those purposes for which they can be used, in accordance with the doctrine of Christ the Lord and the guidelines of the Church" (PO 17). The Council did not fail to propose concrete indications in this regard.

First of all, the administration of ecclesiastical goods proper must be ensured 'according to the norms of ecclesiastical laws, and possibly with the help of lay experts'. These goods must always be used for "the ordering of divine worship, the dignified maintenance of the clergy, the support of works of the apostolate and charity, especially for the poor" (Ibid.).The goods procured from the exercise of some ecclesiastical office are to be used first of all 'for one's own honest maintenance and for the fulfilment of the duties of one's state; the remainder is to be used for the good of the Church and for works of charity'. This must be particularly emphasised: the ecclesiastical office cannot be for presbyters - and not even for bishops - an opportunity for personal enrichment or profit for their families. "Priests, therefore, without becoming in any way attached to riches, must avoid all covetousness and abstain from any kind of commerce" (Ibid). In any case, it must be borne in mind that everything, in the use of goods, must be carried out in the light of the Gospel.

4. The same must be said about the presbyter's involvement in profane activities, that is, pertaining to the handling of earthly affairs outside the religious and sacred sphere. The 1971 Synod of Bishops declared that, 'as an ordinary rule, full time must be given to the priestly ministry ... In fact, participation in the secular activities of men is not to be considered as the main purpose, nor can it suffice to express the specific responsibility of priests' (Ench. Vat., IV, 1191).This was a stance taken in the face of the tendency, which had appeared here and there, towards the secularisation of the Priest's activity, in the sense that he could engage, like the laity, in the exercise of a secular trade or profession.

It is true that there are circumstances in which the only effective way to reconnect with the Church a working environment that ignores Christ can be the presence of Priests who exercise a trade in such an environment, becoming, for example, labourers with labourers. The generosity of these Priests is worthy of praise. It should be noted, however, that by taking on profane and secular tasks and positions, the Priest runs the risk of reducing his sacred ministry to a secondary role, or even of eliding it. Because of this risk, which had been reflected in experience, the Council had already emphasised the need for the approval of the competent authority to exercise a manual trade, sharing the living conditions of workers (cf. PO 8). The Synod of 1971 gave, as a rule to be followed, the appropriateness, or otherwise, of a certain commitment to secular work with the aims of the priesthood 'in the judgement of the local bishop with his presbyterate, and after consulting - as far as is necessary - the Episcopal Conference' (Ench. Vat., IV, 1192).

On the other hand, it is clear that there are today, as in the past, special cases in which some particularly gifted and prepared presbyters can carry out an activity in fields of work or culture that are not directly ecclesial. However, every effort must be made to ensure that these remain exceptional cases. And even then, the criterion set by the Synod will always have to be applied if one wishes to be faithful to the Gospel and the Church.

5. We shall conclude this catechesis by turning once again to the figure of Jesus Christ, High Priest, good Shepherd and supreme exemplar of priests. He is the model of the spoliation of earthly goods for the priest who wants to conform to the requirement of evangelical poverty. For Jesus was born and lived in poverty. St Paul admonished: 'From being rich that he was, he became poor for your sake' (2 Cor 8:9). Jesus himself, to one who wanted to follow him, said of himself: "Foxes have their dens and birds of the air their nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" (Lk 9:57). These words manifest a complete detachment from all earthly comforts. It should not be concluded, however, that Jesus lived in misery. Other passages in the Gospels report that he received and accepted invitations to the homes of rich people (cf. Mt 9:10-11; Mk 2:15-16; Lk 5:29; 7:36; 19:5-6), had female co-workers to support him in his financial needs (Lk 8:2-3; cf. Mt 27:55; Mk 15:40; Lk 23:55-56) and was able to give alms to the poor (cf. Jn 13:29). There is no doubt, however, about the life and spirit of poverty that characterised Him.

The same spirit of poverty will have to animate the conduct of the Priest, characterising his attitude, his life and the very figure of a pastor and man of God. It will translate into disinterestedness and detachment from money, in the renunciation of all greed for the possession of earthly goods, in a simple lifestyle, in the choice of a modest dwelling accessible to all, in the rejection of everything that is or even appears to be luxurious, in a growing tendency towards gratuitousness in dedication to the service of God and the faithful.

6. Finally, let us add that, being called by Jesus and according to his example, to "evangelise the poor", "presbyters - as well as bishops - will seek to avoid anything that could in any way lead the poor to stray" (PO 17). Instead, by nourishing in themselves the evangelical spirit of poverty, they will find themselves in a position to show their preferential option for the poor, translating it into sharing, in personal and community works of help, including material help to the needy. It is a witness to the Poor Christ that comes today from so many priests, the poor and friends of the poor. It is a great flame of love lit in the life of the clergy and the Church. If the clergy could sometimes appear in some places among the categories of the rich, today they feel honoured, with the whole Church, to be in the front row among the "new poor". This is great progress in following Christ on the way of the Gospel.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 21 July 1993]

I am glad to welcome you to my first General Audience. With deep gratitude and reverence I take up the “witness” from the hands of Benedict XVI, my beloved Predecessor. After Easter we shall resume the Catecheses for the Year of Faith. Today I would like to reflect a little on Holy Week. We began this Week with Palm Sunday — the heart of the whole Liturgical Year — in which we accompany Jesus in his Passion, death and Resurrection.

But what does living Holy Week mean to us? What does following Jesus on his journey to Calvary on his way to the Cross and the Resurrection mean? In his earthly mission Jesus walked the roads of the Holy Land; he called 12 simple people to stay with him, to share his journey and to continue his mission. He chose them from among the people full of faith in God’s promises. He spoke to all without distinction: the great and the lowly, the rich young man and the poor widow, the powerful and the weak; he brought God’s mercy and forgiveness; he healed, he comforted, he understood; he gave hope; he brought to all the presence of God who cares for every man and every woman, just as a good father and a good mother care for each one of their children.

God does not wait for us to go to him but it is he who moves towards us, without calculation, without quantification. That is what God is like. He always takes the first step, he comes towards us.

Jesus lived the daily reality of the most ordinary people: he was moved as he faced the crowd that seemed like a flock without a shepherd; he wept before the sorrow that Martha and Mary felt at the death of their brother, Lazarus; he called a publican to be his disciple; he also suffered betrayal by a friend. In him God has given us the certitude that he is with us, he is among us. “Foxes”, he, Jesus, said, “have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head” (Mt 8:20). Jesus has no house, because his house is the people, it is we who are his dwelling place, his mission is to open God’s doors to all, to be the presence of God’s love.

In Holy Week we live the crowning moment of this journey, of this plan of love that runs through the entire history of the relations between God and humanity. Jesus enters Jerusalem to take his last step with which he sums up the whole of his existence. He gives himself without reserve, he keeps nothing for himself, not even life. At the Last Supper, with his friends, he breaks the bread and passes the cup round “for us”. The Son of God offers himself to us, he puts his Body and his Blood into our hands, so as to be with us always, to dwell among us. And in the Garden of Olives, and likewise in the trial before Pilate, he puts up no resistance, he gives himself; he is the suffering Servant, foretold by Isaiah, who empties himself, even unto death (cf. Is 53:12).

Jesus does not experience this love that leads to his sacrifice passively or as a fatal destiny. He does not of course conceal his deep human distress as he faces a violent death, but with absolute trust commends himself to the Father. Jesus gave himself up to death voluntarily in order to reciprocate the love of God the Father, in perfect union with his will, to demonstrate his love for us. On the Cross Jesus “loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal 2:20). Each one of us can say: “he loved me and gave himself for me”. Each one can say this “for me”.

What is the meaning of all this for us? It means that this is my, your and our road too. Living Holy Week, following Jesus not only with the emotion of the heart; living Holy Week, following Jesus means learning to come out of ourselves — as I said last Sunday — in order to go to meet others, to go towards the outskirts of existence, to be the first to take a step towards our brothers and our sisters, especially those who are the most distant, those who are forgotten, those who are most in need of understanding, comfort and help. There is such a great need to bring the living presence of Jesus, merciful and full of love!

Living Holy Week means entering ever more deeply into the logic of God, into the logic of the Cross, which is not primarily that of suffering and death, but rather that of love and of the gift of self which brings life. It means entering into the logic of the Gospel. Following and accompanying Christ, staying with him, demands “coming out of ourselves”, requires us to be outgoing; to come out of ourselves, out of a dreary way of living faith that has become a habit, out of the temptation to withdraw into our own plans which end by shutting out God’s creative action.

God came out of himself to come among us, he pitched his tent among us to bring to us his mercy that saves and gives hope. Nor must we be satisfied with staying in the pen of the 99 sheep if we want to follow him and to remain with him; we too must “go out” with him to seek the lost sheep, the one that has strayed the furthest. Be sure to remember: coming out of ourselves, just as Jesus, just as God came out of himself in Jesus and Jesus came out of himself for all of us.

Someone might say to me: “but Father, I don’t have time”, “I have so many things to do”, “it’s difficult”, “what can I do with my feebleness and my sins, with so many things?”. We are often satisfied with a few prayers, with a distracted and sporadic participation in Sunday Mass, with a few charitable acts; but we do not have the courage “to come out” to bring Christ to others. We are a bit like St Peter. As soon as Jesus speaks of his Passion, death and Resurrection, of the gift of himself, of love for all, the Apostle takes him aside and reproaches him. What Jesus says upsets his plans, seems unacceptable, threatens the security he had built for himself, his idea of the Messiah. And Jesus looks at his disciples and addresses to Peter what may possibly be the harshest words in the Gospels: “Get behind me Satan! For you are not on the side of God, but of men” (Mk 8:33). God always thinks with mercy: do not forget this. God always thinks mercifully. He is the merciful Father! God thinks like the father waiting for the son and goes to meet him, he spots him coming when he is still far off....

What does this mean? That he went every day to see if his son was coming home: this is our merciful Father. It indicates that he was waiting for him with longing on the terrace of his house. God thinks like the Samaritan who did not pass by the unfortunate man, pitying him or looking at him from the other side of the road, but helped him without asking for anything in return; without asking whether he was a Jew, a pagan or a Samaritan, whether he was rich or poor: he asked for nothing. He went to help him: God is like this. God thinks like the shepherd who lays down his life in order to defend and save his sheep.

Holy Week is a time of grace which the Lord gives us to open the doors of our heart, of our life, of our parishes — what a pity so many parishes are closed! — of the movements, of the associations; and “to come out” in order to meet others, to make ourselves close, to bring them the light and joy of our faith. To come out always! And to do so with God’s love and tenderness, with respect and with patience, knowing that God takes our hands, our feet, our heart, and guides them and makes all our actions fruitful.

I hope that we all will live these days well, following the Lord courageously, carrying within us a ray of his love for all those we meet.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 27 March 2013]