“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above”. The words we have just heard in the second reading (Col 3:1-4) invite us to raise our gaze to the reality of Heaven. With the expression “the things that are above” St Paul means Heaven, for he adds: “where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God”. The Apostle is referring to the condition of believers, of those who are “dead” to sin and whose life “is hidden with God in Christ”. They are called to live daily in the lordship of Christ, the principle and fulfilment of all their actions, witnessing to the new life bestowed upon them in Baptism. This renewal in Christ takes place in the heart of each person. While continuing the struggle against sin, it is possible to grow in virtue, attempting to give a full and willing answer to the grace of God.

Inversely, the Apostle indicates later “the things of the earth”. Thus highlighting that life in Christ entails a “choice of field”, a radical renunciation of everything that — like an anchor — ties man to earth, corrupting his soul. The search for the “things that are above” does not mean that Christians must neglect their earthly obligations and duties, rather that they must not get lost in them, as if they had a definitive value. Recalling the realities of Heaven is an invitation to recognize the relativity of what is destined to pass away, in the face of those values that do not know the deterioration of time. It is about working, committing oneself, allowing oneself the proper rest, but with the serene detachment of one who knows that he is only a traveller on the way to the heavenly Homeland; a pilgrim, in a certain sense, a foreigner on the path to Eternity.

[...] the Son of Man must be lifted on the wood of the Cross so that whoever believes in him may have life. St John sees precisely in the mystery of the Cross the moment in which the real glory of Jesus is revealed, the glory of a love that gives itself totally in the passion and death. Thus, paradoxically, from a sign of condemnation, death and failure, the Cross becomes a sign of redemption, life and victory, through faith, the fruits of salvation can be gathered.

[...] God approached man in love, even to the total gift, crossing the threshold of our ultimate solitude, throwing himself into the abyss of our extreme abandonment, going beyond the door of death. The object and beneficiary of divine love is the world, namely, humanity. It is a word that erases completely the idea of a distant God alien to man's journey and reveals, rather, his true face. He gave us his Son out of love, to be the near God, to make us feel his presence, to come to meet us and carry us in his love so that the whole of life might be enlivened by this divine love. The Son of man did not come to be served, but to serve and to give life. 

God does not domineer but loves without measure. He does not express his omnipotence in punishment, but in mercy and in forgiveness. Understanding all this means entering into the mystery of salvation. Jesus came to save, not to condemn; with the sacrifice of the Cross he reveals the loving face of God. Precisely by faith in the abundant love that has been given to us in Christ Jesus, we know that even the smallest force of love is greater than the greatest destructive force, which can transform the world, and by this same faith we can have the “reliable hope”, in eternal life and in the resurrection of the flesh.

[Pope Benedict, homily in the Papal Chapel 4 November 2010]

1. Glory to you, Word of God!

This greeting is repeated daily in the liturgy of Lent. It precedes the reading of the Gospel, and testifies that the time of Lent is in the life of the Church a time of special concentration on the Word of God. This concentration was linked - especially in the early centuries - to the preparation for Baptism on Easter night, for which the Catechumens were prepared with increasing intensity.

However, it is not only in consideration of Baptism and the Catechumenate that Lent stimulates such intense concentration on the Word of God. The need arises from the very nature of the liturgical season, that is, from the depth of the Mystery into which the Church enters from the very beginning of Lent.

The mystery of God reaches minds and hearts first and foremost through the Word of God. We are, in fact, in the period of "initiation" into Easter, which is the central mystery of Christ, as well as of the faith and life of those who confess him.

I am glad that at this time, also this year, I am given to bring my personal contribution to the pastoral care of the university environment in Rome. I extend a cordial welcome to all those present: Professors, Students and guests who come from outside Rome.

I would like to remind you, on this occasion, that the problems concerning the presence of the Church in the university world of our City, the problems of the specific academic pastoral care were this year the theme of the meeting of the clergy of the diocese of Rome at the beginning of Lent. Together with my brothers in the episcopate and in the presbyterate, who share with me the pastoral solicitude for the three million citizens of the Rome of the 1980s, I was able to listen to various voices of professors, students, representatives of the individual academic circles and movements, as well as their ecclesiastical assistants, who illustrated numerous problems concerning the important task of the Church of Rome in this area.

I hope that this task can be carried out in an ever more mature and fruitful manner.

2. Praise to you, Word of God!

This word in the Liturgy of the penultimate week of Lent becomes particularly intense and, I would say, particularly dramatic. The readings from the Gospel of St John emphasise this in a special way.

Christ, conversing with the Pharisees, ever more clearly says Who he is, Who sent him, and his words are not accepted. And more and more, through the increasing tension of questions and answers, the end of this process is also outlined: the death of the prophet of Nazareth.

"Who are you?" (Jn 8:25), they ask him as they once asked John the Baptist.

This question brings with it that eternal messianic restlessness, in which Israel had participated for generations, and which in the generation of that time seemed still to have increased in power.

- Who are you?

- "When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know..." (Jn 8:28).

3. It seems that the key concept of today's Liturgy of the Word of God is that of "elevation".

During Israel's pilgrimage through the desert, Moses "made a serpent of copper and put it on a staff" (Numbers 21:9). He did this at the Lord's command when his people were being bitten by poisonous snakes "and a great number of the Israelites died" (Nm 21:6). When Moses put the copper serpent on the pole, whoever was bitten by the snakes, when he looked at it, "remained alive" (Nm 21:9).

That copper serpent became the figure of Christ "lifted up" on the cross. Exegetes see in it the symbolic announcement of the fact that man, who with faith looks upon the cross of Christ, "remains alive". He remains alive...: and life means the victory over sin and the state of grace in the human soul.

4. Christ says: "When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know...": you will know, you will find the answer to this question that you now put to me, not trusting in the words that I say to you.

The "lifting up" through the Cross is in a certain sense the key to knowing the whole truth, which Christ proclaimed. The Cross is the threshold, through which man will be allowed to approach this reality that Christ reveals. To reveal means "to make known", "to make present".

Christ reveals the Father. Through him the Father becomes present in the human world.

"When you have raised up the Son of man, then you will know that I am and do nothing of myself, but as the Father has taught me, so I speak" (Jn 8:28).

Christ refers to the Father as the ultimate source of the truth he proclaims: "He who sent me is true, and I tell the world the things I have heard from him" (Jn 8:26).

And finally: "He who sent me is with me and has not left me alone, because I always do those things that are pleasing to him" (Jn 8:29).In these words is revealed before us that limitless solitude, which Christ must experience on the Cross, in his "elevation". This solitude will begin during the prayer in Gethsemane - which must have been a true spiritual agony - and will be completed at the crucifixion. Then Christ will cry out: "Elí, Elí, lemà sabactàni", "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Mt 27:46).

Now, however, as if anticipating those hours of terrible loneliness, Christ says: "He who sent me is with me and has not left me alone...". As if to say, in the first place: even in this supreme abandonment I shall not be alone! I shall then fulfil that which "is pleasing to Him", that which is the Father's Will! and I shall not be alone!

- And, further: the Father will not leave me in the hand of death, for in the Cross is the beginning of the Resurrection. Precisely for this reason, "crucifixion" will ultimately become "elevation": "Then you will know that I am. Then, too, you will know that "I say to the world the things that I have heard from him".

5. The crucifixion truly becomes the elevation of Christ. In the Cross is the beginning of the resurrection.

Therefore, the Cross becomes the definitive measure of all things, which stand between God and man. Christ measures them precisely by this yardstick.

In today's Gospel we hear what he says: "You are of here, I am of there; you are of this world, I am not of this world" (Jn 18:23).

The dimension of the world is, in a sense, set against the dimension of God. In the conversation with Pilate Christ will also say: "My kingdom is not of this world" (Jn 18:36).

The dimension of the world meets the dimension of God precisely in the Cross: in the Cross and Resurrection.

That is why the cross becomes that ultimate yardstick by which Christ measures. It becomes the central point of reference. The dimension of the world is in it definitively referred to the dimension of the Living God. And the Living God meets the world in the cross. He meets through the death of Christ.

This encounter is totally for man.

Why - we sometimes ask ourselves - did that encounter of the Living God with man take place on the Cross? Why did it have to take place like that?

Christ, in today's conversation, gives the answer: "For if you do not believe that I am, you will die in your sins" (Jn 18:24).

Above the dimension of the world is placed the dimension of sin.... This is precisely why God's encounter with the world is accomplished in the cross.

There is a need for the Cross and death, so that man "does not die in his own sins".

There is a need for the Cross and resurrection, so that man believes in Christ, so that he accepts this 'world' that he reveals through himself.

In Christ, the Living God is revealed to man. God the Father.

Not only that: in Christ the mystery of man himself is revealed to man - is revealed to the very depths.

6. We must learn to measure the problems of the world, and especially the problems of man, by the yardstick of the Cross and Resurrection of Christ.

Being Christian means living in the light of Christ's paschal mystery. And to find in it a fixed point of reference for what is in man, for what is among men, what makes up the history of humanity and the world.

Man, looking within himself, also discovers - as Christ says in the dialogue with the Pharisees - what is 'from down here' and what is 'from up there'. Man discovers within himself (this is a perennial experience) the man 'up there' and the man 'down here': not two men, but almost two dimensions of the same man; of the man, who is each one of us: me, you, him, her...

And each one of us - if he looks inside himself carefully, self-critically, if he tries to see himself in truth - will know how to say what in him belongs to the man "down here", and what belongs to the man "up there". He will know how to call him by name. He will know how to confess him.

And finally: in each of us there is a certain spontaneous tendency to tend from the man "down here" to the man "up there". This is a natural aspiration. Unless we stifle it, we do not trample it within us.

It is an aspiration. If we cooperate with it, this aspiration develops and becomes the engine of our life.

Christ teaches us how to cooperate with it. How to develop and deepen what is 'from up there' in man, and how to weaken and overcome what is 'from down here'.

Christ teaches us this by his Gospel and by his personal example.

The Cross becomes a living measure here. It becomes the point of reference, through which the lives of millions of men pass from what is "down here" to what is "up there".

The Cross and the Resurrection: the paschal mystery of Christ.

7. The first, elementary method of this passage is prayer.

When man prays, in a certain sense he spontaneously turns towards the One who offers him the dimension "up there". With this, he distances himself from what, in himself, is "down here". Prayer is an inner movement. It is a movement that decides the development of the whole human personality. Of the direction of life.With what clarity does the Psalm of today's Liturgy give expression to this theme!

"Lord, hear my prayer, / to thee may my cry come; / hide not thy face from me; / in the day of my distress / bend thine ear towards me; / when I call upon thee: quickly, answer me" (Ps 102 [101]:1-3).

Man lives in search of the "face of God", which is hidden before him in the darkness "of the world". Yet, in the same "world" he can discover the footprints of God. All that is needed is for him to start praying. Let him pray. Let him move from what is "down here" to what is "up there". Let him, together with prayer, discover in himself the way from the man "down here" to the man "up there".

My beloved ones! In the name of the Crucified and Risen Lord, I ask you: pray! love prayer!

8. Glory to you, Word of God!

May the love of prayer become in each of us the fruit of listening to the Word of God.

"The seed is the Word of God, the sower, Christ; everyone who finds it will last for ever," proclaims a liturgical text.

The seed is the seed of life. It contains within itself the whole plant. It conceals the ear for the harvest and the future bread.

The Word of God is such a seed for human souls. The sower of it is Christ.

Let us pray that from the seed of Christ's word this Life, to which man is called in Christ, will be born in us anew. Called "from above".

This Life is born in the sacraments of faith. It is born first in Baptism and then in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Christ is not only the One who proclaims the Word of God. He is the One who gives Life in this Word.

A new Life.

Such is the power of the words: 'I baptise you'.

Such also is the power of the words: 'I absolve you... go in peace'. Go! In the direction from what is in you "down here" to what is "up there". Once again, go!

And finally the power of the Eucharistic words: "Eat and drink, all of you". He who eats... will live. He shall live for ever.

Let us look, dear brothers and sisters, at the "elevation" of Christ. Let us look through the prism of the cross and resurrection at our humanity. Let us accept the invitation contained in Christ's paschal mystery. Let us accept the Word and the Life. Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, homily for university students in preparation for Easter, Rome 30 March 1982]

Making "the sign of the cross" distractedly and flaunting "the symbol of Christians" as if it were "the badge of a team" or "an ornament", perhaps with "precious stones, jewels and gold", has nothing to do with "the mystery" of Christ. So much so that Pope Francis suggested an examination of conscience precisely on the cross, to verify how each of us carries the only true "instrument of salvation" in our daily lives. Here are the lines of reflection that the Pontiff proposed in the Mass celebrated Tuesday morning, 4 April, at Santa Marta.

"It attracts attention," he noted immediately, referring to the passage from the evangelist John (8:21-30), "that in this brief passage of the Gospel three times Jesus says to the doctors of the law, to the scribes, to some Pharisees: 'You will die in your sins'". He repeats this "three times". And "he says this," he added, "because they did not understand the mystery of Jesus, because their hearts were closed and they were not capable of opening a little, of trying to understand that mystery that was the Lord". In fact, the Pope explained, 'to die in one's sin is an ugly thing: it means that everything ends there, in the filth of sin'.

But then "this dialogue - in which three times Jesus repeats 'you will die in your sins' - continues and, at the end, Jesus looks back at the history of salvation and reminds them of something: 'When you have raised up the son of man, then you will know that I am and that I do nothing of myself'". The Lord says precisely: "when you have lifted up the son of man".

With these words - said the Pontiff, referring to the passage from the book of Numbers (21, 4-9) - "Jesus brings to mind what happened in the desert and what we heard in the first reading". It is the moment when "the bored people, the people who cannot endure the journey, turn away from the Lord, spit on Moses and the Lord, and find those snakes that bite and cause death". Then "the Lord tells Moses to make a bronze serpent and raise it up, and the person who suffers a wound from the serpent, and who looks at the bronze one, will be healed".

"The serpent," the Pope continued, "is the symbol of the evil one, it is the symbol of the devil: it was the most cunning of animals in the earthly paradise. Because "the serpent is the one who is capable of seducing with lies", he is "the father of lies: this is the mystery". But then "must we look to the devil to save us? The serpent is the father of sin, the one who made mankind sin". In reality, "Jesus says: 'When I am lifted up on high, all will come to me'. Obviously this is the mystery of the cross".

"The bronze serpent healed," Francis said, "but the bronze serpent was a sign of two things: of the sin made by the serpent, of the serpent's seduction, of the serpent's cunning; and also it was a sign of the cross of Christ, it was a prophecy. And "that is why the Lord says to them: 'When you have lifted up the son of man, then you will know that I am'". So we can say, said the Pope, that "Jesus 'became a serpent', Jesus 'became sin' and took upon himself the filth all of humanity, the filth all of sin. And he 'became sin', he made himself lifted up for all people to look upon, people wounded by sin, us. This is the mystery of the cross and Paul says it: 'He became sin' and took on the appearance of the father of sin, the cunning serpent'.

"Whoever did not look upon the bronze serpent after being wounded by a serpent in the desert," the Pontiff explained, "died in sin, the sin of murmuring against God and against Moses". In the same way, 'whoever does not recognise in that uplifted man, like the serpent, the power of God who became sin in order to heal us, will die in his own sin'. Because 'salvation comes only from the cross, but from this cross that is God made flesh: there is no salvation in ideas, there is no salvation in good will, in the desire to be good'. In reality, the Pope insisted, "the only salvation is in Christ crucified, because only he, as the bronze serpent meant, was able to take all the poison of sin and healed us there".

"But what is the cross for us?" is the question posed by Francis. "Yes, it is the sign of Christians, it is the symbol of Christians, and we make the sign of the cross but we don't always do it well, sometimes we do it like this... because we don't have this faith to the cross," the Pope pointed out. The cross, then, he said, "for some people is a badge of belonging: 'Yes, I wear the cross to show that I am a Christian'". And 'it looks good', however, 'not only as a badge, as if it were a team, the badge of a team'; but, Francis said, 'as a memory of the one who became sin, who became the devil, the serpent, for us; he lowered himself to the point of total annihilation'.Moreover, it is true, 'others carry the cross as an ornament, they carry crosses with precious stones, to be seen'. But, the Pontiff pointed out, "God said to Moses: 'He who looks at the serpent will be healed'; Jesus says to his enemies: 'When you have lifted up the son of man, then you will know'". In essence, he explained, 'those who do not look upon the cross, thus, in faith, die in their sins, will not receive that salvation'.

"Today," the Pope relaunched, "the Church proposes to us a dialogue with this mystery of the cross, with this God who became sin, out of love for me". And "each of us can say: 'out of love for me'". So, he continued, it is appropriate to ask ourselves: 'How do I carry the cross: as a reminder? When I make the sign of the cross, am I aware of what I am doing? How do I carry the cross: only as a symbol of belonging to a religious group? How do I carry the cross: as an ornament, like a jewel with many golden precious stones?". Or "have I learnt to carry it on my shoulders, where it hurts?".

"Each one of us today," the Pontiff suggested at the conclusion of his meditation, "look at the crucifix, look at this God who became sin so that we might not die in our sins, and answer these questions that I have suggested to you.

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 05/04/2017]

(Jn 8:1-11)

Every day at sunrise, from the Mount of Olives, by contemplating the Temple, the people recited the Shema’ Israel, and so did Jesus.

Like many, he spent his nights in a cave, outdoors (Lk 21:37-38; Jn 8:1-2), then he went to Solomon's portico to teach.

A new Day begins. The confrontation with the sinful woman who represents us, activates a new Aurora.

The adulterer and the adulteress had to be put to death (Dt 22:22-24): why is no there the male accomplice one?

In many biblical passages, the 'woman' is a collective parable - here evoked for a catechesis against the traditionalist prosecutors who were also coming forward in the early communities.

[They don’t sleep at night, in order to spy on others and accuse them of their sins]. But there is a new ‘dawn’ (v.2) on the face of God.

In the whole scene the true accused is Jesus and his idea of ​​Justice, irregular. He does not allow the “gendarmes” to isolate persons.

Whoever makes a mistake or is unsteady, is not marked for life.

We are bent over by weights and can hardly stand up. Therefore, divine action unmasks the old fanatical wigs, not at all innocent.

The conciliatory and reflexive attitude turns the accusations right back on the veterans of the rules, who let the stones fall from their hands only when unmasked.

However, it is a theology passage, not a gossip piece.

In bygone leaders who like to organize trials even internal ones, there is sometimes no honesty: it is better that in the House of God they avoid being judges and accusers, and go back to their homes.

Incredible then that Jesus does not make sure that the woman is repentant, before forgiving her! In this the Son of God violates the Law, Tradition, the common way of thinking and teaching catechism!

His most incriminated sentence is a bomb, which has created embarrassment for centuries: «Stop hurting yourself, but I do not condemn you!»"  [sense of v.11].

The ‘living’ and true God proceeds without inquiries and penitential torments: he puts us back on our feet.

Therefore He does not want to have anything in common with the unexceptionable who cunningly shield themselves with ancient norms to annoy (and project their own defects onto others, in order to exorcise them).

That is why the Lord’s Finger on the ‘stone slabs’ of the esplanade of the Jerusalem Temple!

A clear accusation to the censors still accustomed to the Decalogue of the No […], who remained at the age of Sinai: opinionated and deadly ones, devoid of the flesh and Spirit ‘heart’ - corpses calibrated at room temperature.

Throughout the scene, Jesus - figure of the new Justice of the Father - remains crouched on the ground [cf. Greek text], threatened by those who are on top of him to accuse or take him hostage.

He remains subjected even to the adulteress reduced to silence, because the request for mercy is authentic even when it remains only implicit.

And in any case, Christ relates to each of us without incumbent upon. Looking at us all from below!

Here is the difference between Faith approach and assessments of trivial religiosity. The qualitative leap between Finger on the stone slabs, and the Looking on the persons.

To internalize and live the message:

In what situations did you consider: "Justice is done"?

On what occasions have you experienced divine judgment as understanding and mercy?

[Monday 5th wk. in Lent (year A.B), March 23, 2026]

Adulterous "Church", accused Jesus

(Jn 8:1-11)

What about an ancient codex of the Gospels with a torn 'page'?

Husbands did not want women to have a license of immunity from the Lord himself: God's action baffles.

But how does the Lord deal with those who have made mistakes in life? Or with people of a different cultural background [e.g.] from the West?

Can they be admitted to a direct relationship with Jesus, or must they undergo a long rigmarole of doctrinal and moralistic x-rays?

Christ proceeds without enquiry or accusatory penitential tares.

He only puts people and heterogeneous groups back on their feet - albeit all humiliated and mocked souls by the veterans of the postilion (who secretly indulge in everything).

He imposes - and chisels - Justice where it has been transgressed, at least in our conventional view.

The only reliable and convincing solution and judgement is the Good.

In Ephesus, bishop Polycrates had had to clash with the intransigents on the question of the readmission into the community of the lapsi ['slipped' in the confession of faith, under blackmail] or of those who had 'surrendered' the sacred books (traditores) because intimidated by threats of persecution.

The bishop of Rome, Sotère, had taken a position in favour of the rigorists. But as the Apostolic Constitutions testify, the more sympathetic ones explicitly referred to the episode of the adulteress, bearing in mind that God's action is a creative act that recomposes - not a gesture of hasty punishment.

Having disappeared from the Gospel according to Lk (cf. 21:38), the Gospel pearl has been recovered by Jn (8:1-11).

Again St. Augustine complained that the passage was excluded by leaders of some communities.

But going beyond petty moralisms, the pericope has significant theological weight.

In religions, the idea of divine just judgement is identical, because it is in harmony with the concept of common justice: unicuique Jus suum.

All the sarcophagi of ancient Egypt reproduce the scene of the scales with the two plates in perfect balance: on one the feather symbol of Maat goddess of wisdom; on the other the heart of the deceased, who is led by the hand by the god Anubis.

On the weighing depends the future happiness or ruin of the one being judged.

The Qur'an attributes to God the splendid title of 'Best of those who forgive'; yet even in Islam, the Day of Judgement is the moment of separation between the righteous and the wicked - the some ushered into paradise, the others banished to hell.

The rabbis of Jesus' time held that mercy intervened at the moment of reckoning: it prevailed only when good and bad works were equal.

The adulterer and the adulteress were to be put to death (Deut 22:22-24): how come the male escapes?

In many biblical passages, the 'woman' is a collective parable - here evoked for a catechesis against the traditionalist prosecutors who also came forward in the early communities.

The trouble with moral courts is that too many protagonists seem more inclined to condemn 'symbols' than to get to the bottom of matters.

Despite the strict penitential practices of the early centuries and the controversy between laxists and strictists, the gemstone recovered and formerly removed from many manuscripts reiterates the incriminated phrase: 'I do not condemn you'!

And he even sketches a Jesus who does not ask beforehand whether the woman was repentant or not!

Shocking episode? No, because this is about theology, not the news.

Every day at sunrise the people from the Mount of Olives contemplating the Temple recited the Shemàh, and so did Jesus.

Like many, he spent the nights in a cave, in the open air (Lk 21:37-38; Jn 8:1-2), then went to the Temple to teach.

Another 'Day' begins.

The confrontation with the sinner who represents us begins a new 'dawn' - on the Face of God.

What sentence does the Lord pronounce in his House [Church]?

It is not said what Jesus was teaching, for he himself is 'the' Word, the Teaching.

Each gesture tells how the Father relates to the one who has strayed, or comes from an uncertain background.

He helps the lost son to recover, and says [in short]: 'I do not condemn you, but stop hurting yourself'.

Jesus crosses the bridge-viaduct over the Cedron valley and enters the temple esplanade through the Golden Gate.

There he finds hearts steadfast in the retributive justice of Sinai, that of the cold tables of stone.

Justice of the scribes and Pharisees of the vice squad who - pressing - were standing over him [so the Greek text].

Justice by scales and sanhedrin? No, Benevolence that makes the wicked righteous, that makes pure those who draw near - those from multiform paganism, considered theological adulterers."Justice is done" for us means that the guilty are straightened out, punished and separated from the unrighteous.

God instead makes righteous those who once were not. He precisely retrieves the wretch from the abyss, and makes him breathe.

[Perhaps the woman is a symbolic image of a subordinate primitive community, coming to the Faith but with mixed cultural origins and uncertain practices, judged tumultuously free].

Forgiveness is not a defeat, nor a surrender. After all, there is no shortage of those who make a shield of laws to annoy and hide behind screens.

In short: the true defendant of the pericope is the Son and his idea of Justice!

Hence the Finger on the Ground: resting on the stone slabs of the Temple esplanade in Jerusalem.

This is a very serious accusation against the spiritual guides of official religiosity and all those who, upon becoming leaders of the first Christian realities, immediately intended to replicate their hypocrisies.

Inebriated by the rank and file of leaders and censors, they too show that they have remained in the Sinaitic, stone age.

An age of old supponents without a heart of flesh, strangers to the warmth of the divine Spirit.

Indeed, not a few manuscripts from the first centuries demonstrate the obsessive communitarian attachment to a very rigid ethical discipline.

There was a risk of returning to the ideology of the 'best': ruthless and gabellant, icy and judgmental, chastising; confusing about the passions - that of the 'chosen' and 'upright'.

Acolytes who were proponents of death; corpses incapable of fiery desire, of explicit passion; because - at least in façade - they were calibrated to room temperature.

Instead, throughout the scene Jesus remains crouched on the ground!

He even relates to the adulteress by looking up at her from below (cf. Greek text)!

He is even subjected to the adulteress, an icon of an uncertain or 'lesser' church - one that gathers the formerly distant free. The same ones who now approached the threshold of fraternities with a past and moral baggage that was perhaps questionable.

In short, every demand for mercy is authentic even when it remains only implicit - and in any case Christ relates to each of us without looming!

In the life of Faith, God is beneath us, and so do those who authentically represent Him.

The LORD is not a legislator, nor a weigher, nor a plaintiff - not even a notorious judge who passes sentence at once.

In this way and 'lapidary' tone, Pope Francis has repeatedly said:

"I prefer a Church that is bumpy, wounded and dirty from being out on the streets, rather than a Church that is sick from being closed and comfortable clinging to its own security. I consider missteps less serious than not moving at all!".

The difference of Faith's approach with the assessments of banal religiosity? The qualitative leap between Finger on the plates and Look at the people.

To internalise and live the message:

In what situations have you considered, 'Justice is done'?

On what occasions have you experienced divine judgement as understanding and grace?

The liturgy proposes to us, this year, the Gospel episode of Jesus who saves an adulterous woman condemned to death (Jn 8: 1-11). While he is teaching at the Temple the Scribes and Pharisees bring Jesus a woman caught in the act of adultery for which Mosaic law prescribed stoning. Those men ask Jesus to judge the sinful woman in order "to test him" and impel him to take a false step. The scene is full with drama: the life of that person and also his own life depend on Jesus. Indeed, the hypocritical accusers pretend to entrust the judgement to him whereas it is actually he himself whom they wish to accuse and judge. Jesus, on the other hand, is "full of grace and truth" (Jn 1: 14): he can read every human heart, he wants to condemn the sin but save the sinner, and unmask hypocrisy. St John the Evangelist highlights one detail: while his accusers are insistently interrogating him, Jesus bends down and starts writing with his finger on the ground. St Augustine notes that this gesture portrays Christ as the divine legislator: in fact, God wrote the law with his finger on tablets of stone (cf. Commentary on John's Gospel, 33,5). Thus Jesus is the Legislator, he is Justice in person. And what is his sentence? "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her". These words are full of the disarming power of truth that pulls down the wall of hypocrisy and opens consciences to a greater justice, that of love, in which consists the fulfilment of every precept (cf. Rom 13: 8-10). This is the justice that also saved Saul of Tarsus, transforming him into St Paul (cf. Phil 3: 8-14).

When his accusers "went away, one by one, beginning with the eldest", Jesus, absolving the woman of her sin, ushers her into a new life oriented to good. "Neither do I condemn you; go, and do not sin again". It is the same grace that was to make the Apostle say: "One thing I do, forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead. I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus" (Phil 3: 13-14). God wants only goodness and life for us; he provides for the health of our soul through his ministers, delivering us from evil with the Sacrament of Reconciliation, so that no one may be lost but all may have the opportunity to convert. In this Year for Priests I would like to urge Pastors to imitate the holy Curé d'Ars in the ministry of sacramental pardon so that the faithful may discover its meaning and beauty and be healed by the merciful love of God, who "even forces himself to forget the future so that he can grant us his forgiveness!" (Letter to Priests for the Inauguration of the Year for Priests, 16 June 2009).

Dear friends, let us learn from the Lord Jesus not to judge and not to condemn our neighbour. Let us learn to be intransigent with sin starting with our own! and indulgent with people. May the holy Mother of God, free from all sin, who is the mediatrix of grace for every repentant sinner, help us in this.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 21 March 2010]

14. Jesus enters into the concrete and historical situation of women, a situation which is weighed down by the inheritance of sin. One of the ways in which this inheritance is expressed is habitual discrimination against women in favour of men. This inheritance is rooted within women too. From this point of view the episode of the woman "caught in adultery" (cf. Jn 8:3-11) is particularly eloquent. In the end Jesus says to her: "Do not sin again", but first he evokes an awareness of sin in the men who accuse her in order to stone her, thereby revealing his profound capacity to see human consciences and actions in their true light. Jesus seems to say to the accusers: Is not this woman, for all her sin, above all a confirmation of your own transgressions, of your "male" injustice, your misdeeds?

This truth is valid for the whole human race. The episode recorded in the Gospel of John is repeated in countless similar situations in every period of history. A woman is left alone, exposed to public opinion with "her sin", while behind "her" sin there lurks a man - a sinner, guilty "of the other's sin", indeed equally responsible for it. And yet his sin escapes notice, it is passed over in silence: he does not appear to be responsible for "the others's sin"! Sometimes, forgetting his own sin, he even makes himself the accuser, as in the case described. How often, in a similar way, the woman pays for her own sin (maybe it is she, in some cases, who is guilty of the "others's sin" - the sin of the man), but she alone pays and she pays all alone! How often is she abandoned with her pregnancy, when the man, the child's father, is unwilling to accept responsibility for it? And besides the many "unwed mothers" in our society, we also must consider all those who, as a result of various pressures, even on the part of the guilty man, very often "get rid of" the child before it is born. "They get rid of it": but at what price? Public opinion today tries in various ways to "abolish" the evil of this sin. Normally a woman's conscience does not let her forget that she has taken the life of her own child, for she cannot destroy that readiness to accept life which marks her "ethos" from the "beginning".

The attitude of Jesus in the episode described in John 8:3-11 is significant. This is one of the few instances in which his power - the power of truth - is so clearly manifested with regard to human consciences. Jesus is calm, collected and thoughtful. As in the conversation with the Pharisees (cf. Mt 19:3-9), is Jesus not aware of being in contact with the mystery of the "beginning", when man was created male and female, and the woman was entrusted to the man with her feminine distinctiveness, and with her potential for motherhood? The man was also entrusted by the Creator to the woman - they were entrusted to each other as persons made in the image and likeness of God himself. This entrusting is the test of love, spousal love. In order to become "a sincere gift" to one another, each of them has to feel responsible for the gift. This test is meant for both of them - man and woman - from the "beginning". After original sin, contrary forces are at work in man and woman as a result of the threefold concupiscence, the "stimulus of sin". They act from deep within the human being. Thus Jesus will say in the Sermon on the Mount: "Every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Mt 5:28). These words, addressed directly to man, show the fundamental truth of his responsibility vis-a-vis woman: her dignity, her motherhood, her vocation. But indirectly these words concern the woman. Christ did everything possible to ensure that - in the context of the customs and social relationships of that time - women would find in his teaching and actions their own subjectivity and dignity. On the basis of the eternal "unity of the two", this dignity directly depends on woman herself, as a subject responsible for herself, and at the same time it is "given as a task" to man. Christ logically appeals to man's responsibility. In the present meditation on women's dignity and vocation, it is necessary that we refer to the context which we find in the Gospel. The dignity and the vocation of women - as well as those of men - find their eternal source in the heart of God. And in the temporal conditions of human existence, they are closely connected with the "unity of the two". Consequently each man must look within himself to see whether she who was entrusted to him as a sister in humanity, as a spouse, has not become in his heart an object of adultery; to see whether she who, in different ways, is the cosubject of his existence in the world, has not become for him an "object": an object of pleasure, of exploitation.

[Pope John Paul II, Mulieris Dignitatem]

The liturgy presents us the episode of the adulterous woman (cf. Jn 8:1-11). In it, there are two contrasting attitudes: that of the scribes and the Pharisees on the one hand, and that of Jesus on the other. The former want to condemn the woman because they feel they are the guardians of the Law and of its faithful implementation. Jesus, on the other hand, wants to save her because he personifies God’s mercy which redeems by forgiving and renews by reconciling.

Let us thus look at the event. While Jesus is teaching in the Temple, the scribes and the Pharisees bring him a woman who has been caught in adultery. They place her in the middle and ask Jesus if they should stone her as the Law of Moses prescribes. The Evangelist explains that they asked the question in order “to test him, that they might have some charge to bring against him” (v. 6). One might think that this was their purpose: behold the iniquity of these people — a ‘no’ to the stoning would have been a pretext to accuse Jesus of disobeying the Law; a ‘yes’ instead, to report him to the Roman Authority which had reserved such sentences to itself and did not permit lynching by the people. And Jesus must respond.

Jesus’ interrogators are confined to narrow legalism and want to oblige the Son of God to conform to their perspective of judgment and condemnation. However, he did not come into the world to judge and condemn, but rather to save and offer people a new life. And how does Jesus react to this test? First of all, he remains silent for some time and then he bends down to write on the ground with his finger, almost as if to remind them that the only Legislator and Judge is God who had inscribed the Law on stone. And then he says: “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her” (v. 7). In this way, Jesus appeals to the conscience of those men: they felt they were the ‘champions of justice’, but he reminds them of their own condition as sinners, due to which they cannot claim the right to life or death over one of their fellow human beings. At that point, one after the other, beginning with the eldest — that is, those who were more fully aware of their own failings — they all went away, and desisted from stoning the woman. This episode also invites each of us to be aware that we are sinners, and to let fall from our hands the stones of denigration, of condemnation, of gossip, which at times we would like to cast at others. When we speak ill of others, we are throwing stones, we are like these people.

And in the end only Jesus and the woman are left there in the middle: “misery with mercy”, as Saint Augustine says (In Joh 33:5). Jesus is the only one without fault, the only one who could throw a stone at her, but he does not do so, because God “does not want the death of the wicked but that the wicked convert and live” (cf. Ez 33:11). And Jesus sends the woman on her way with these wonderful words: “Go and do not sin again” (Jn 8:11). And thus Jesus opens a new path to her, created by mercy, a path that requires her commitment not to sin again. It is an invitation that applies to each one of us. When Jesus forgives us, he always opens a new path on which to go forward. In this Lenten Season, we are called to recognize ourselves as sinners and to ask God for forgiveness. And, in its turn, while forgiveness reconciles us and gives us peace, it lets us start again, renewed. Every true conversion is oriented toward a new future, a new life, a beautiful life, a life free from sin, a generous life. Let us not be afraid to ask Jesus for forgiveness because he opens the door to this new life for us. May the Virgin Mary help us to bear witness to all of the merciful love of God, who through Jesus, forgives us and renders our lives new, by always offering us new possibilities.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 7 April 2019]

The Lord of Life (or the pale sign)

(Jn 11:1-45)

The event of death is disconcerting, and that of a friend of God in community [Bethany] perhaps accentuates the questions about the meaning of our belief and commit ourselves thoroughly.

Why in the time of greatest need does the Lord let us fall? Why does He seem not to be there (v.21)?

Letting even His dearest friends die, Jesus educates us: it is not His intention to procrastinate biological existence (vv.14-15), nor simply improve it a little.

“Eternal” [in the Gospels, the very Life of the Eternal: Zoe aiònios] is not this form of life [in the Gospels: Bìos - possibly strengthened] but only its times of strong love.

Ultimate World does not interfere with the natural course.

For this reason the Lord does not enter the “village” where others went to console and give condolences.

He wants Mary to leave the house where everyone cries in despair and mourns funeral - as if everything was over.

He intends to get us out of the “small hamlet” where it is believed that the earthly end can be only delayed, until the tomb without a future.

The natural emotion for detachment does not hold back tears, which spontaneously «flow from the eyes, sliding down» [dakryein-edakrysen].

Intimate upheaval does not produce a broken and screamed cry [klaiein] as the inconsolable one of the Jews (vv.33.35).

No farewell. For this reason, it follows the order to remove the stone that at that time closed the tombs (v.39).

The strong Call is absolutely imperative: the ‘deceased’ ones are not ‘dead’ ones, as ancient religions believed; their lives goes on.

«Lazarus, out here!» (v.43): it is the cry of the victory of life. 

In the adventure of Faith in Christ we discover that life has no stones on it. Enough, mourning the deadly situations, and the "dead ones"!

The Appeal that the Lord makes is that there is no disappeared souls’ world, separated from us; stand-alone, devoid of communication with the actual one.

Archaic beliefs imagined Hades or Sheôl as a dark, fog-soaked cavern, populated here and there by insubstantial wandering larvae.

On the contrary, the world of the living ones is not separated from that of the ‘deceased’ ones.

«Lazarus is asleep» (v.11), that is: he is not a fallen, because men do not die. They pass from the creaturely life [bìos] to full Life [Zoe].

The ‘deceased’ left this world and entered the world of God, re-Born and begotten to his authentic, complete and definitive being.

Then: «Untie him and let him go!».

In short, Lazarus did not simply end up in the pit, nor, having been well put back on his feet by Christ, did he reappear in this form of life for another stretch... inexorably marked by the limit.

In the Gospel passage, in fact, while everyone goes to Jesus, Lazarus does not.

It is not this not what Jesus can do in the face of death. He does not immortalize this condition, otherwise all existence would continue to be a useless escape from the decisive appointment.

And it is time to stop crying our loved ones: «deceased», not ‘dead’.

We must not hold them back with obsessive visits, tormented memories, talismans, condolences: let them exist happily in their new condition!

Life for us and Life for those who have already flourished in the world of God's Peace - where we will live fully: with each other and for each other.

[5th ​​Sunday of Lent (year A), March 22, 2026]

The Lord of Life (or the pale sign)

(John 11:1–45)

     Last Sunday, the Gospel led us to reflect on the sign of the opening of the eyes.

Even in those who have lost their way, there can be a growing awareness of personal dignity and vocation through faith.

One question remains: if a Light is given at the right time... perhaps it is of little use.

Christ imparts to us a consciousness rich in perceptions and capable of wise, spiritual and missionary endeavour – but is there a final Goal, or does it all end here?

If we must manage on our own, what is the point of the biblical Promises? 

Why do we feel a longing for Fullness, only to plunge into nothingness?

Where is God’s love and omnipotence? And the Risen One, the life of the Eternal One present among us? Has not his very life already been given to us?

The event of death is disconcerting, and that of a friend of God in the community [Bethany] perhaps heightens the questions about the meaning of our faith and our wholehearted commitment.

Why, at the moment of greatest need, does the Lord allow us to fall? Why does He seem not to be there (v.21)?

Nevertheless, we understand that managing to endure an endless old age would not be a victory over death.

The belief of ancient cultures is that when the gods formed humanity, they assigned death to it, and kept life for themselves.

Anyone who had gone on a desperate quest for the mythical herb that makes the old young had to resign themselves to the fact that to die meant setting off for a land of no return.

By allowing even his dearest friends to perish, Jesus teaches us: it is not his intention to prolong biological existence (vv. 14–15), nor simply to improve it a little.

Christ is not a ‘doctor’ who comes to postpone the appointment with death, but rather the One who conquers death – because He transforms it into a Birth.

After all, a truly authentic, human and humanising life needs to face our condition head-on.

Health and physical life are gifts that everyone wishes to prolong, but which must ultimately be surrendered, in the Final Destination that no longer fades.

Eternal [in the Gospels, the very Life of the Eternal: Zoè aiònios] is not this form of life [in the Gospels: Bìos – perhaps enhanced] but only its moments of profound love.

This is the authenticity of the grace to be sought and cultivated. A permanence to which we must respond, a unique condition that cannot defeat us.

The Definitive World does not interfere with the natural course of events, although it may already manifest itself – in the intimate reality of multifaceted coexistence.

But this higher experience [of Covenant even amidst hardships] lies solely in that which is indestructible; personal, and in micro and macro relationships.

In particular, Communion: the sole sign of the form of Life that takes charge but does not falter, has no limits, and will have no end.

For this reason, the Lord does not enter the ‘village’ where others have gone to console and offer condolences.

He wants Mary to leave the house where everyone weeps in despair and offers funeral condolences – as if everything were over.

He intends to draw us out of the ‘little village’ where it is believed that the earthly end can only be senselessly postponed, until the grave with no future.

He wants us decisively out of the little village where everyone is in mourning and remains with the false consolation of funeral rites, ‘relief’ seasoned only with pretty little phrases.

The natural emotion of parting does not hold back the tears, which spontaneously ‘flow from the eyes, slide down’ [dakryein-edakrysen].

The emotion does not produce a wild, wailing cry [klaiein] like that of the inconsolable Jews [vv.33.35 Greek text; the English translation is confusing].

No farewell. For this reason, the command follows to remove the stone that at that time sealed the tombs (v.39).

The powerful call is absolutely imperative: the ‘deceased’ are not ‘dead’, as ancient religions believe; their life continues.

‘Lazarus, come out!’ [v.43 Greek text]: it is the cry of life’s victory. 

In the adventure of Faith in Christ, we discover that life has no stones laid upon it.

Enough of lamenting over life-destroying situations. They bring us closer to our roots, and to full blossoming.

And let us stop weeping for the ‘dead’!

The call the Lord makes today – even after two millennia! – is that there is no sunken world of the departed.

Compared to our journey on earth, those who have passed on are not clearly separated from us; in a place of its own, cut off from communication with the present.

Archaic beliefs, in fact, imagined that Hades or Sheol was a dark cave, shrouded in mist, here and there populated by insubstantial, wandering spirits.

The world of the living is not separated from that of the dead.

‘Lazarus has fallen asleep’ (v.11), that is to say: he is not fallen, for men do not die. They pass from creaturely life [bìos] to full Life [Zoè].

The deceased has left this world and entered the world of God, reborn and brought forth into his authentic, complete, definitive being.

Therefore: “Unbind him and let him go!”

In short, Lazarus has not simply ended up in the grave, nor, having been revived by Christ, does he return to this form of life for another spell… inexorably marked by its limits.

In the story, in fact, whilst everyone goes towards Jesus, Lazarus does not.

This is not what Jesus can do in the face of death. He does not immortalise this condition; otherwise, existence would continue to be a futile flight from the decisive rendezvous.

And it is time to stop mourning the loved one: ‘deceased’, not ‘dead’.

We must not hold them back with obsessive visits, tormented memories, talismans, condolences: let them exist happily in their new condition!

Life for us and Life for those who have already blossomed in the world of God’s Peace – where  we live life to the full: with one another and for one another.

A state which we can thus foreshadow, by dissolving no few inner blocks, external impediments, and relational bonds; drowned in the moods of bitterness, consternation, and despondency:

‘Even today, Jesus repeats to us: “Take away the stone”. God did not create us for the grave; he created us for life—beautiful, good, joyful.

We are therefore called to remove the stones of everything that smacks of death: for example, the hypocrisy with which faith is lived is death; destructive criticism of others is death; offence and slander are death; the marginalisation of the poor is death.

The Lord asks us to remove these stones from our hearts, and life will then blossom once more around us.

Christ lives, and whoever welcomes him and adheres to him comes into contact with life. Without Christ, or outside of Christ, not only is life absent, but one falls back into death.

May each of us be close to those who are undergoing trials, becoming for them a reflection of God’s love and tenderness, which frees from death and brings life to victory.”

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 29 March 2020]

To reflect on and live out the message:

When faced with bereavement, what atmosphere do you sense at home, in church, at the cemetery, during the funeral? And how do condolences affect you?

On Bethany [continuation of the passage on Lazarus]:

Jesus Comes to the Feast, but in Secret

(John 11:45–56)

    Christ is everything that the Jewish feasts had promised and proclaimed.

They interpreted these events authoritatively, yet unconsciously (verses 47–52 delight in words with double meanings).

The high priest was in fact speaking in the name of God: he interpreted the situation in a divinely inspired manner.

In Christ, the fulfilment of the promise made to Abraham was beginning: the era of the dispersion of mankind was coming to an end.

The Cross would fulfil the Temple’s vocation: the gathering of the people and the unity of the human being from the arid and distant land, in sharing and gratuitousness.

But what, even for Jesus, could have been the (energetic) starting point for not retreating within the confines of his own environment down to the smallest detail, and for setting in motion a path of rebirth?

The community of Bethany [‘house of the poor’] is an image of the earliest communities of faith, destitute and composed solely of brothers and sisters, without co-opted or appointed authorities. On a human scale.

Where those bonds that prevented one from going beyond the already known could be broken. Without patriarchs whose control was calibrated, obsessive and vindictive – where one does not watch over others.

A haven of healthy relationships, which managed to give meaning even to wounds.

It is the only place where Jesus felt at ease, that is, the only reality in which we can still recognise him as alive and present in our midst – indeed, the Source of life for the humble and the needy.

The Gospel passage jarrs with the vulgar cunning of the leaders and the out-of-scale nature of the venues and prescribed festivals.

As if no lifeblood flowed there between the holiness of God and the real lives of the humble.

Although the Master did good – as in all regimes, there was no shortage of informers (v.46).

On the other hand, a large part of the inhabitants of Jerusalem found their material sustenance in the income generated by the Temple’s activities.

Imagine if the top of the class would have let the bone be snatched from their mouths, to follow a stranger who intended to supplant the official institution and positions of privilege with a bare-bones utopia.

The throne of the princes of the fraternal House, on the other hand, was devoid of cushions, and the community’s coordinator was a woman: Martha [‘lady’]. A leader in reverse, a servant.

Far from a reactionary defence of privileged positions and the old order... still all downward pressures and a drive to ‘sort things out’ according to the chain of command, which never give us any inspiration for new life. A sticky situation that the synodal journey initiative is finally attempting to break free from.

Under Domitian, these small alternative communities – though caring for the little ones and the far-flung – had to live as Jesus did: in hiding.

They paid for unity with the cross. But they renewed the life of the empire.