For a transparent coexistence

(Mt 7:1-5)

The Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5-7) lists catechesis on salient questions of living in the communities of Galilee and Syria - composed of Jews converted to Christ.

There was no lack of contempt on the part of the veterans for the new ones who appeared at the threshold of the churches - for their way of life far from the recognized norm, or even for trifles.

«Theatrant» (v.5) is one who thinks big about himself and always has the ability to look around to convince himself that he can excel - without putting himself in an attitude of respect for the enigma of life, where instead the burdens can turn into progress.

The objective view of ourselves and our personal growth - often resulting from deviations from stereotypes or nomenclatures - can make us benevolent. It can convince of due respect and even deference for the ‘more’ that surrounds us and calls.

The legalism of plastered details leads in fact to the neglect of the essential, in mutual love (cf. vv.3-5).

In the 70s of the first century the awareness of the different familiar and serene relationship with God - and the new way of living his Law - was questioning believers and involved relations with community’ sisters and brothers.

After having introduced both the new criteria of ‘Greater Justice’ and the recovery of the principles of Creation, the evangelist suggests some essential ideas for the internal quality of life of the fraternities.

The cultural background of older church members was fiercely legalistic. This baggage didn’t favour the freedom of mutual evaluations: coexistence had to be more transparent.

To encourage communion, Mt wants to present a free and tranquil Jesus - not superhuman, nor idol or model: vice versa, genuine Person; not unilateral Master.

In fact, he knew how to recover and wanted to enhance all the individual sensitivities, to allow the expression of friendship and enrichment in every human reality.

Only its strong ‘root’ in the relationship with the Father had to be of sacred example for each one, and inviolable comparison for everyone, always.

In Palestine the Lord had not shown himself to be fundamentalist. 

«Trust» in the Father and in his «life to come» gave the Son himself the certainty that he could open completely to situations and to everyone - whatever circumstances he found himself in.

A convivial openness to differences, in order not to block the gates and the outcome of the Novelty, in the Spirit of the Beatitudes.

This is because we have been called to make our existence exponential and that of all, not to dampen it with preconceptions and relative convictions.

We accept Providence, ourselves and the others as they are: aware that there is a precious secret, an unprecedented destiny, a Mystery that surpasses us... behind every event, in each of our own ‘intimate faces’ [supported by the Father], or in the brother even if eccentric.

The ways of following that resonate deep in the heart are as varied as people, events, rhythms commensurate with the soul, ages.

They embrace the same Proposal - without losing the enduring Mystery or any link in this versatility.

Only here... real World, Person, Nature and Eternity are allied.

[Monday 12th wk. in O.T.  June 23, 2025]

For transparent coexistence

(Mt 7:1-5)

The Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5-7) lists catechesis on salient issues in the life of the communities of Galilee and Syria, composed of Jews converted to Christ.

There were episodes of mutual contempt, fuelled especially by veterans accustomed to scrutinising newcomers who presented themselves at the door of the churches, either because their lifestyle was far from the accepted norm or even for trivial reasons.

But we are not judges, we are family members. And of course, in the final analysis, it is precisely malice that sharpens the eye to the slightest faults in others: generally, specks and external shortcomings.

This while the same shrewdness overlooks our own enormities - the heavy beam that separates us not only from God and everyone else, but even from ourselves, bringing us closer to the selfish and arrogant ego.

A 'theatral' person (v. 5) is someone who thinks highly of themselves and is always looking around to convince themselves that they can excel - without showing any respect for the enigma of life, where burdens can be transformed into progress.

An objective view of ourselves and our personal growth - often arising precisely from deviations from stereotypes or nomenclatures - can make us benevolent. It can convince us of the respect and even deference due to the greater reality that surrounds us and calls us.

Legalism in rigid details leads to neglect of what is essential in mutual love (cf. vv. 3-5).

We know very well how hard it is to question ourselves, or to educate perfectionist religious people to detach themselves from their accidental convictions [or fads], which have become sclerotic habits like totems.

In short, in the 70s of the first century, awareness of a different, peaceful relationship with God – and a new way of living his Law – was challenging believers and affecting their relationships with their brothers and sisters in the community.

After introducing both the new criteria of 'greater justice' and the recovery of the principles of Creation, the evangelist suggests some essential points for the quality of life within the fraternities.

The cultural background of the older members of the church was fiercely legalistic. 

This background did not favour freedom in mutual evaluation: coexistence had to be more transparent.

Devout preconceptions seemed an insurmountable obstacle to personalised life and mutual sharing according to the new logic of the Beatitudes [Mt 5:1-12: Self-portrait of Christ as an 'open book' (pierced by a spear)].

The cultural baggage linked to obligations, a sense of duty and hierarchy, an ingrained lifestyle, and beliefs that were difficult to abandon multiplied harsh judgements between generations and between different cultural backgrounds.

To encourage communion, Matthew wants to present a free and peaceful Jesus - not a superman, nor an idol or model: on the contrary, a genuine Person; a non-unilateral Teacher.

He knew how to restore; he wanted to value all the multifaceted, individual sensibilities, to allow the expression of friendship and enrichment in every human reality.

Only his strong 'roots' in his relationship with the Father were to be a sacred example for everyone and an inviolable model for all, always.

This was for the sake of a rich and global transparency, to be proposed also to his disciples.

In this way, adherence to particular beliefs or the repetition of the usual disciplines of perfection did not take shape.

Nor should pious mass observances be favoured, as these are sometimes the first obstacle to dialogue and to the Exodus in its various forms.

Then life itself would providentially guide each person towards a specific witness, which could itself create another opening - relevant to their own character and vocation of the soul.

In Palestine, the Lord did not show himself to be obsessive or one-sided, nor was he reduced to normal and plausible patterns based on cultural codes, evaluative prudence, or moral and religious paradigms.

Trust in the Father and in the life that is given gave the Master Jesus the certainty that he could open himself totally to situations and to everyone, whatever reality he found himself in.

A convivial openness to the most exceptional differences, so as not to block the gateways and the outcome of the Newness, in the Spirit of the Beatitudes.

Unconditional love always applies first and foremost to the disciple, the members of the same community, and one's neighbour.

This is because we have been called to make our existence and that of everyone else exponential, not to dampen it with glamorous versions, preconceived ideas, and relative convictions.

We were created to love the exceptional truth of women and men, not to extinguish uniqueness by passing judgement on trifles.Let us accept Providence, ourselves and others as they are: aware that there is a precious secret, a destiny of newness, a Mystery that surpasses us... behind every event, in each of our own intimate faces [supported by the Father], or in our eccentric brother.

The ways of following that resonate in the depths of our hearts are as varied as the people, events, rhythms commensurate with the soul, and ages.

They embrace the same Proposal - without losing the enduring Mystery or any bond in this multifacetedness.

Only here... the real world, the Person, Nature and Eternity are united.

"When the weaver raises one foot, the other lowers. When the movement ceases and one of the feet stops, the fabric is no longer woven. His hands throw the shuttle from one to the other, but no hand can hope to hold it. Like the weaver's gestures, it is the union of opposites that weaves our life" [African Peul oral tradition].

"We are utterly lost if we lack this particular Individuality, the only thing we can truly call our own and whose loss is also a loss for the whole world. It is precious precisely because it is not universal" [Tagore].

"We must learn to abandon our defences and our need to control, and trust totally in the guidance of the spirit" [Sobonfu Somé].

"True morality does not consist in following the beaten path, but in finding the path that is true for us and following it without fear" [Gandhi].

Beams and specks: a paradoxical situation, where there is sometimes an excess of 'belief' - yet Faith is lacking.

“Let us be concerned for each other”: responsibility towards our brothers and sisters.

This first aspect is an invitation to be “concerned”: the Greek verb used here is katanoein, which means to scrutinize, to be attentive, to observe carefully and take stock of something. We come across this word in the Gospel when Jesus invites the disciples to “think of” the ravens that, without striving, are at the centre of the solicitous and caring Divine Providence (cf. Lk 12:24), and to “observe” the plank in our own eye before looking at the splinter in that of our brother (cf. Lk 6:41). In another verse of the Letter to the Hebrews, we find the encouragement to “turn your minds to Jesus” (3:1), the Apostle and High Priest of our faith. So the verb which introduces our exhortation tells us to look at others, first of all at Jesus, to be concerned for one another, and not to remain isolated and indifferent to the fate of our brothers and sisters. All too often, however, our attitude is just the opposite: an indifference and disinterest born of selfishness and masked as a respect for “privacy”. Today too, the Lord’s voice summons all of us to be concerned for one another. Even today God asks us to be “guardians” of our brothers and sisters (Gen 4:9), to establish relationships based on mutual consideration and attentiveness to the well-being, the integral well-being of others. The great commandment of love for one another demands that we acknowledge our responsibility towards those who, like ourselves, are creatures and children of God. Being brothers and sisters in humanity and, in many cases, also in the faith, should help us to recognize in others a true alter ego, infinitely loved by the Lord. If we cultivate this way of seeing others as our brothers and sisters, solidarity, justice, mercy and compassion will naturally well up in our hearts. The Servant of God Pope Paul VI stated that the world today is suffering above all from a lack of brotherhood: “Human society is sorely ill. The cause is not so much the depletion of natural resources, nor their monopolistic control by a privileged few; it is rather the weakening of brotherly ties between individuals and nations” (Populorum Progressio, 66).

[Pope Benedict, Message for Lent 2012]

In the liturgy of the word, Luke's Gospel presents us once again with Jesus' question: "Can a blind man guide a blind man?" (Lk 6:39). The Lord means that a guide cannot be blind; he must see well if he does not want to risk harming those entrusted to him. Jesus thus draws the attention of all those who have educational or leadership responsibilities: pastors of souls, rulers of peoples, legislators, teachers, parents, urging them to be aware, to feel responsibility, to ask themselves about the right path and to be the first to follow it themselves.

3. And the right path is the one traced by the divine Master. He said so himself with a Semitic expression that sounds like this: "The disciple is not above his master, but everyone who is well trained will be like his master" (Lk 6:40). With this, Jesus presents himself as a model and invites us to follow his conduct and his teachings. Only in this way can we be sure and wise guides. The Lord's teachings on moral life are contained mainly in the Sermon on the Mount, which we have been reading for the past three Sundays during the celebration of Holy Mass. In today's passage, we find another very significant phrase, which urges us not to be presumptuous and hypocritical. "Why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye and not notice the log in your own?" (Lk 6:41). How easy it is to see the faults and sins of others and not see our own! And how can we tell if our eye is clear or if it is impeded by a beam? The proof comes from our actions. It is Jesus himself who tells us: "Every tree is recognised by its fruit" (Lk 6:44). The fruit is our actions, but also our words. These too reveal the quality of the tree. In fact, those who are good bring out good from their hearts and mouths, and those who are evil bring out evil. This teaching of Jesus echoes the ancient words of wisdom from Sirach, which we heard in the first reading: 'The fruit shows how the tree is cultivated, so words reveal the feelings of a person' (Sir 27:6).

[Pope John Paul II, homily at Corviale, 1 March 1992]

Jesus gave us clear rules to follow in order to avoid hypocrisy: do not judge others, lest we be judged in the same way; and when we are tempted to do so, it is better to look in the mirror first, not to hide behind make-up, but to see ourselves as we really are. Recalling that the only true judgement is that of God with his mercy, Pope Francis — in the Mass celebrated on Monday morning, 20 June, in the chapel of Casa Santa Marta — recommended not giving in to the temptation to put ourselves in the Lord's place, doubting his word.
"Jesus speaks to people and teaches them many things about prayer, about riches, about vain concerns, many things, about how his disciples should behave," Francis said. And so "he comes to this passage of the Gospel on judgement," proposed by the liturgy (Matthew 7:1-5). It is a passage in which "the Lord is very concrete." In fact, if "sometimes the Lord tells us a parable to make us understand, here it is: 'ta, ta, ta': direct, because judgement is something only he can do."
"It begins" with a clear word from Jesus: "Do not judge, so that you will not be judged." Therefore, "if you do not want to be judged, do not judge others: 'tac, tac', clear". And the Lord "goes one step further", indicating precisely the criterion of measure: "For with the judgement you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you".
"All of us want, on the day of judgement, for the Lord to look upon us with kindness, for the Lord to forget the many bad things we have done in our lives," said Francis. And "this is right, because we are children, and a child always expects this from his father." But "if you continually judge others, you will be judged by the same measure: this is clear."
"First, the commandment, the fact: 'Do not judge, so that you will not be judged,'" the Pope reiterated, adding: "Second, the measure will be the same as you use for your brothers and sisters." And then "the third step: look in the mirror, but not to put on make-up so that your wrinkles cannot be seen; no, no, no, that is not the advice!" Rather, Francis suggested, "look in the mirror to see yourself as you are." Jesus' words are clear: "Why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye and not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when there is a log in your own eye?"
"How does the Lord describe us," asked the Pontiff, "when we do this? With one word: 'Hypocrite, first take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.'" In reality, the Lord's reaction should not surprise us, for he "becomes angry; he is very strong, and he even seems to insult us: he calls those who judge others 'hypocrites'.
The reason is that "those who judge," explained the Pope, "put themselves in God's place, make themselves God and doubt God's word." It is precisely "what the serpent convinced our fathers to do: 'No, no, God is a liar, if you eat this, you will be like him'. And they wanted to put themselves in God's place."
For this reason, the Pope insisted, "it is so ugly to judge: judgement belongs to God alone, to him alone!" Rather, it is up to us to "love, understand, pray for others when we see things that are not good," and if necessary, "even speak to them" to warn them if something does not seem to be going right. In any case, "never judge, never," because "if we judge, it is hypocrisy."
After all, Francis said, "when we judge, we put ourselves in God's place, that is true, but our judgement is a poor judgement: it can never, ever be a true judgement." Because, in fact, "true judgement is that which God gives." And "why can't ours be like God's? Because God is almighty and we are not? No, because our judgement lacks mercy." And "when God judges, he judges with mercy."
In conclusion, the Pope suggested that we think "today about what the Lord tells us: do not judge, so as not to be judged; the measure with which we judge will be the same that will be used with us; and thirdly, let us look in the mirror before judging." And so when we feel like saying, "she does this, he does that," it is better to look in the mirror before speaking. Otherwise, "I will be a hypocrite," Francis repeated, "because I am putting myself in God's place." And in any case, "my judgment is a poor judgment: it lacks something very important that God's judgment has, it lacks mercy." The Pope expressed his hope that the Lord "will help us to understand these things well."
[Pope Francis, homily at St. Martha's, in L'Osservatore Romano, 20 June 2016]

Corpus Domini

(Lk 9:11b-17)

The Second Vatican Council didn’t spend a single word about the many Eucharistic devotions.

To make us fully understand the Person of Christ, the Council Fathers were well aware that Jesus did not leave a statue or a relic.

He preferred to express Himself in a gesture, which challenges us.

In the Jewish world, in the evening each family met around for meal, and that of breaking bread was the most significant moment in their experience of conviviality (and memory of the delivery of self to others).

The only bread was divided and shared among all the family members - but even a poor hungry man could look out at the door, which should not be tightened.

Bread and wine, products that had assimilated the energies of heaven and earth, were perceived with spiritual sensitivity - gifts of the Creator for the life and joy of humanity.

In that culture, bread is basic food. But our life is complete only if there is also the element of celebration: here is wine.

Even today bread is not cut with a knife, to respect its sacredness: only broken. It contains concrete existence.

This is why Jesus chooses the Banquet as a sign of his Person, life, word, risky event, given in food.

During the family dinner, bread and wine were not perceived as manna, that is, like natural and raw products. Family members wasn’t even feeding to regain strength, and that’s it.

In wheat and grapes, all the varied contributions of the domestic hearth were also met.

Around the banquet, each man saw in bread and wine the fruit of his work: cleaning of the soil, plowing, sowing, pruning, harvesting and work of press.

The woman caught in the bread her work of grinding, kneading, cooking. Even minors could remember something of their own, because the kids lent themselves to drawing water.

Dinner was a celebration of harmony. The canteen was precisely a place where young people were educated to the perception of existing in unity, instead of disinterest.

Gratitude towards God’s gifts and perception of one’s own support, which reaches (really) the goal in the spirit of synergy and communion.

Contributions, resources and skills appropriate to serve, for everyone's life.

In the Eucharistic gesture Jesus says: new heavens and earth do not correspond to the world in which each one hastens to reap for himself or his circle, in order to grab the maximum of resources.

What about his kingdom? All invited and brothers agree, no master or ruler - destined to stand in front or above (albeit faster than the others) even in Heaven.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus with Him but still at a safe distance from Him (cf. Lk 9:10.12) - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who must give it to everyone (vv.13.16), to create abundance where it’s not.

In the passage from Lk Jesus arouses bewilderment. He disagrees with the idea that everyone arranges; nor does He like almsgiving (vv.12-13).

He dictates to disciples that the crowd lay down (v.14 Greek text) as did the gentlemen and the free people in solemn moments.

He wants and insists that the Apostles first serve (vv.13.16), not other slaves.

And perhaps the most astounding thing is that none of those present are required to make preventive gestures of purification, as was customary in traditional religiosity.

Before the meal it postulated ablution: a sort of ceremony that emphasized a sacral detachment between pure and impure.

The only task of the apostles is to distribute Food - then to be shredded, sifted and assimilated, to build a new Kingdom - not to make preventive x-rays; let alone interested.

In religion we have a long line of fulfillments to observe in order to present ourselves before God.

On the journey of Faith it’s the gratuitous encounter with the Lord that makes us grow, making us pure without conditions.

Appeal to real Conviviality, and evergreen Reminder not to settle.

(Luke 9:11b-17)

Food multiplied because it is distributed: A call not to be satisfied

Vatican II did not say a single word about the many forms of Eucharistic devotion.

In order to help us fully understand the Person of Christ, the Council Fathers were well aware that Jesus did not leave behind a statue or a relic. He preferred to express himself in a gesture that challenges us.

In the Jewish world, every family gathered around the table in the evening, and the breaking of bread was the most significant moment of their experience of conviviality (and of the memory of giving oneself to others).

The only bread was broken and shared among all the family members - but even a hungry poor person could come to the door, which was not to be locked.

Bread and wine, products that had absorbed the energies of heaven and earth, were perceived with spiritual sensitivity - gifts from the Creator for the life and joy of humanity.

In that culture, bread is a staple food. But our life is only complete if there is also an element of celebration: wine.

Even today, bread is not cut with a knife, out of respect for its sacredness: it is only broken. It contains concrete existence.

This is why Jesus chose the Banquet as a sign of his Person, his life, his word, his risky undertaking, given as food.

During family meals, bread and wine were not perceived as manna, that is, as natural and raw products. Nor was it simply a matter of eating to regain strength.

All the varied contributions of the household were also present in the wheat and grapes.

Around the table, each person saw in the bread and wine the fruit of their labour: clearing the land, ploughing, sowing, reaping, pruning, harvesting and pressing.

Women saw in bread the fruit of their labour in grinding, kneading and baking. Even children could remember something of their own, because the little ones helped to fetch water (if not from wells, then from a spring).

Dinner was a celebration of harmony. The table was a place where young people were taught to perceive existence in unity, rather than in indifference.

Gratitude for God's gifts and awareness of one's own contribution, which had (truly) achieved its goal in a spirit of synergy and communion.

Contributions, resources and abilities were offered in service to the life of all.

In the Eucharistic gesture, Jesus says: the new heavens and earth do not correspond to the world in which everyone rushes to reap for themselves or their circle, in order to grab the maximum amount of resources.

His Kingdom? Everyone is invited and brothers in harmony, no one is master or ruler - destined to stand before or above (even if quicker than others) even in Heaven.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus to be with him but still remaining at a safe distance from him (cf. Lk 9:10, 12) - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who must offer it to all (vv. 13, 16), to create abundance where there is none.

To enliven meetings on the theme of the Eucharist and to internalise how there has been an evolution in the Catholic Church's understanding of the effectiveness of the Sign, I like to compare two great works of art.

Raphael, in his so-called Disputation of the Sacrament, depicts a sacred and static world. Today we would say (at first glance) that it is almost plasticised.

It is an environment that seems entirely predictable and characterised by a specific social, cultural and spiritual model, where everyone is placed according to their origins, position, status and spiritual rank.

Arcabas, a French artist who recently passed away, paints a picture that seems devoid of a protagonist: as if cut out, or (better) focused on the simple gesture. In other words, the decorative trappings are irrelevant to this proposal of life.

In the work of the contemporary painter, we see the sobriety of a person and a well-centred missionary spirit (which scratches, but makes us lose our heads much more than beautiful scripts); because in the world of Love, the best is yet to come.

We are challenged.

Arcabas illustrates a simply laid table: a plate that is certainly not from the best collection, a glass of wine without frills, a tablecloth simply laid on the table and characterised by its folds (not even ironed) that recall everyday life.

And above all, the normal gesture of breaking bread, step by step, with its crumbs that are neither fluffy nor white. The Eucharistic Banquet is not for the afterlife - who knows when that will be.

(For almost a thousand years, the Catholic Church celebrated with daily bread, as the Orthodox Church still does. As evidence, we still have very large trays, now reduced to small plates).

In the passage from Luke, Jesus causes consternation. He does not agree with the idea that everyone should fend for themselves; he does not even like the idea of almsgiving (vv. 12-13).

He tells his followers to make the crowd lie down (v.14 Greek text) as lords and free people did on solemn occasions.

He wants and insists that the apostles serve first (vv. 13, 16), not other slaves.

Perhaps most astonishing is that he does not require any of those present to perform preventive acts of purification, as was customary in traditional religiosity.

Before the meal, it was customary to perform ablutions: a sort of ceremony that emphasised a sacred separation between the pure and the impure.

(Christ does not even like the paths of each person to be subject to external observers, experts who impose abstract principles and a dehumanising rhythm that is not commensurate with the person).

The apostles' only task is to distribute the Food - to be broken up, sifted and assimilated in order to build a new Kingdom - not to make preventive X-rays, let alone interested ones.

The absolute and non-negotiable criterion is the fullness of life of the last to arrive; the opposite would be (truly) a valley of tears, tinged with dissatisfaction and discontent.

In religion, we have a long list of requirements to observe in order to present ourselves before God.

On the path of Faith, it is the gratuitous encounter with the Lord that makes us grow, making us pure without conditions.

Even in the Disputation of the Sacrament, the person closest to the altar (almost identifying with it) is St. Francis, crouching below the level of the table. He too is a veteran.

The gaze of the alter Christus towards the outside meets and draws the attention of two young men on our left, halfway into the perspective, also crouched down and overwhelmed by figures of high spiritual rank.

The moral: the Eucharist is not a reward for the righteous, but (where and how we are) a call to real conviviality. An evergreen reminder not to be satisfied.

(Jn 13:1-15)

Complete Trust: the emblematic Action that creates pure people

Let us introduce the meaning of the Lord's washing of the feet, an emblematic gesture that the Synoptic Gospels evoke in the Breaking of Bread.

In ancient Israel, the patriarchal family, the clan and the community were the basis of social coexistence.

They guaranteed the transmission of the identity of the people and ensured protection for the afflicted.

Defending the clan was also a concrete way of confirming the First Covenant.

But at the time of Jesus, Galilee suffered both from the segregation dictated by the politics of Herod Antipas and from the oppression of official religiosity.

The spineless collaboration of the ruler had increased the number of homeless and unemployed people.

The political and economic situation forced people to focus on material and individual problems or those of their immediate family.

At one time, the identity that bound the clan and the community together guaranteed an internal solidarity, expressed in the defence and assistance given to the less fortunate members of the people.

Now this fraternal bond was weakened, rigid, almost contradicted, partly because of the harsh attitude of the religious authorities, who were fundamentalist and lovers of a pedantic purism that was opposed to mixing with the less well-off classes.

The law (written and oral) ended up being used not to promote the acceptance of the marginalised and needy, but to accentuate divisions and ghettoisation.

This situation was leading to the collapse of the most vulnerable sections of the population.

In short, traditional devotion - which loved the alliance between throne and altar - instead of strengthening the sense of community, was used to accentuate hierarchies; as a weapon that legitimised a whole mentality of exclusion (and confirmed the imperial logic of divide and rule).

Jesus, on the other hand, wants to return to the Father's Dream: the unavoidable dream of brotherhood, the only seal on the history of salvation.

According to a happy expression of Origen, the Eucharist is the ever-open wound in Christ's side; but Vatican II did not say a single word about the many forms of Eucharistic devotion.

In order to help us fully understand his Person, the Council Fathers were well aware that Jesus did not leave a statue or a relic. He preferred to express himself in a gesture that challenges us.

In the Jewish world, every family gathered around the table in the evening, and breaking bread was the most significant moment of their experience of conviviality (and memory of giving oneself to others).

The only bread was broken and shared among all the family members - but even a hungry poor person could come to the door, which was not to be locked.

Bread and wine, products that had assimilated the energies of heaven and earth, were recognised with spiritual sensitivity as gifts from the Creator for the life and joy of humanity.

In that culture, bread is a staple food. But our life is only complete if there is also an element of celebration: wine.

Even today, bread is not cut with a knife, out of respect for its sacredness: it is only broken. It contains concrete existence.

This is why Jesus chose the Banquet as a sign of his Person, his life, his word, his risky undertaking and new happiness, given as food.

During family meals, bread and wine were not perceived as manna, that is, as natural and raw products. Nor was it simply a matter of eating to regain strength.

The wheat and grapes also brought together all the varied contributions of the household.

Around the table, each person saw in the bread and wine the fruit of their labour: clearing the land, ploughing, sowing, reaping, pruning, harvesting and pressing.

Women saw their labour in the bread: grinding, kneading, baking. Even children could remember something of their own, because the little ones lent a hand (e.g. drawing water).

Dinner was a celebration of harmony. The table was a place where young people were taught to perceive existence in unity, rather than in indifference.

This was done with gratitude for God's gifts and an awareness of their own contribution, which had (truly) achieved its goal, in a spirit of synergy and communion.

Contributions, resources and abilities were offered in service to the life of all.

In the Eucharistic gesture, Jesus says: the new heavens and the new earth do not correspond to the world in which everyone rushes to reap for themselves or their circle, in order to grab the maximum resources.

His Kingdom? Everyone is invited and brothers in harmony, no one is master or ruler - destined to stand before or above (even if quicker than others) even in Heaven.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus to be with him but still remaining at a safe distance from him (cf. e.g. Lk 9:10, 12) - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who must offer it to all (vv. 13,16), to create abundance where there is none.

To enliven meetings on the theme of the Eucharist and to internalise how there has been a decisive evolution in the Catholic Church itself in understanding the effectiveness of the Sign, I like to compare two great works of art.

Raphael, in his so-called Disputation of the Sacrament, depicts a sacred and static world. Today we would say (at first glance) that it is almost plasticised.

It is an environment that seems entirely predictable and characterised by a specific social, cultural and spiritual model, where everyone is placed according to their origins, position, status and rank.

Arcabas, a French artist who recently passed away, paints a picture that seems devoid of exclusive, distinct and titled protagonists: as if cut off, or (better) focused on the simple gesture.

To put it eloquently: the trappings of opulent decorations or prominent roles have no place in this vision of life!

In the work of the contemporary painter, we see the sobriety of a Person and a well-centred missionary spirit (which scratches, but makes us lose our heads much more than beautiful scripts); because in the world of Love, the best is yet to come.

We are constantly questioned...

Arcabas illustrates a simply laid table: a plate that is certainly not from the best collection, a glass of wine without frills, a tablecloth simply laid on the table and characterised by its folds (not even ironed) that recall everyday life.

And above all, the normal gesture of breaking bread, step by step, with its crumbs that are neither fluffy nor white. In other words, the Eucharistic Banquet that is not for the afterlife - who knows when that will be.

(For almost a thousand years, the Catholic Church celebrated with daily bread, as the Orthodox Church still does. As evidence, we still have very large trays-patens, now reduced to small plates).

The 'Hour' arrives... An emblematic action in John's Gospel, which does not formally recount the institution of the Eucharist.

This is the meaning of breaking bread: what it means to enter into communion, for the apostle who overturns hierarchies and subverts the criteria of purity, uniformity, compactness and glory.

In the fourth Gospel, only two Beatitudes are proclaimed:

'Truly, truly, I say to you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them' (Jn 13:16-17).

And to Thomas: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" (Jn 20:29b) - not because effort is a means of accumulating pain and merit, and thus pleasing God.

The two Beatitudes of John guarantee the tracks on which the believer finds his full realisation and the wonder of happiness: the practice of charity that recovers all that is scattered (including that of others) in the adventure of Faith.

Before and during ritual meals, the pious people of Israel performed ablutions with water to celebrate the separation between the sacred and the profane, the pure and the impure.

At the head of the table, hands were washed by a servant or the youngest of the guests.

With Jesus, tradition is overturned from within, leaving us astonished. 

For a Jew, washing another person was a gesture that had to be refused, even if reduced to slavery, so as not to dishonour the people. Instead, the Messiah prostrates himself and has the freedom to wash (not even the hands, but) the feet.

This is an absurd revelation of the Face of God, which shatters countless mannerisms, hopes of artificial prestige, acts of submission, and grotesque acknowledgements - advanced by princes of the church.

Not only an invitation to serve one's neighbour... a gesture to be imitated that proclaims the character of humble service of the ministry: it is also a sign of purification of his own - like a new Baptism, which immediately makes one part of God's world.

This 'washing' is a figure of the Person and Mission of the Son in favour of mankind - all now enabled to pass (and to bring others to pass) from this order to the Kingdom of the Father.

The Master gathers around him a group of disciples - even if they are not very convinced, but made pure - not because he aims to form a school, distinct from others or even unilateral, but to introduce them to Love, in the passage from slavery to the freedom of the Free (who comes down).

God does not identify people, nor does he superimpose his own thoughts on the history and sensibilities of the people. By bending down, he transcends roles, club spirit, ideas and certificates. This is indeed an exemplary initiative.

In fact, in his Exodus, he traces the new path of the people, even of those who oppose him - and this is disconcerting, it seems unacceptable. Peter is eager to command: he does not want to enter into a logic that manifests (in community leaders!) a God who is a servant of men, independent of their past.

By lowering himself to the level of a slave who lays down his clothes, the Lord wants to humanise us by recovering the opposites rooted in each of us...He even admits contestation - highlighting it and healing it (unless we remain like Judas, stubbornly attached to external seductions and false spiritual guides - to the clichés of belonging-gain).

Finally, Jesus does not take off his apron before putting his clothes back on: it is the only uniform that belongs to him. That kind of clothing remains on him: he even takes it with him to Paradise.

He did not play the part of the servant in order to return to heaven and lord it over others. He does not influence anyone.

The Life of the Father follows us on every path, to make us feel adequate: One Body with the Son, to whom he has entrusted everything (v. 3).

Total flowering for us too; indestructible, eminent, in itself free of hidden deadly germs.

His trust is transmitted in the history of salvation and unfolds to the undecided and imperfect, but his blood relatives in the Son. Ready to lift us up to an existence that no longer extinguishes being - and we are eager to make it flourish, instead of boycotting it or borrowing it.

Adopted children: this is not a diminution, but the distinguished recognition of an equality that does not clash.

In ancient times, when a sovereign designated his successor to the throne, he often appointed a valiant dignitary who was more trustworthy than his natural heir (who was often scheming, spoiled, fed up with life, parasitic and tired of his own prosperity).

God does not force us to coincide. By bending, he overcomes the club spirit, the parties, the characters and all the safe-conducts.

This is the 'service' of the disciples, to be carried out with their lives and the proclamation of the good news: to make known that the Father is not the selective God of religion, but the unconditional lover of man.

Love is communicated between equals and has the same pace as life: it cannot be harnessed by inherited opinions or fixed conventions, nor subjected to casuistic narratives.

Only the awareness of a freedom that remains will lead us to gestures of clear completeness, not for opportunistic and individual advantage, but in favour of Joy (fullness of being and intensity of relationship).

Only the esteem that the Father recognises in each person leads children and their stories towards acts of conviviality and inexplicable recoveries.

Jesus washing feet depicts the secret of the blessed life that expands the path of the self into that of the You: being genuine and free to the point of bending down to serve, approving every particular path (the feet of each person).

To internalise and live the message:

How do you live your responsibility and personality in Christ according to verses 3-4? After the Eucharist, do you do as Jesus did or do you immediately put down your apron?

We have just sung the Sequence: "Dogma datur christianis, / quod in carnem transit panis, / et vinum in sanguinem - this [is] the truth each Christian learns, / bread into his flesh he turns, to his precious blood the wine". 

Today we reaffirm with great joy our faith in the Eucharist, the Mystery that constitutes the heart of the Church. In the recent Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation Sacramentum Caritatis I recalled that the Eucharistic Mystery "is the gift that Jesus Christ makes of himself, thus revealing to us God's infinite love for every man and woman" (n. 1). 

Corpus Christi, therefore, is a unique feast and constitutes an important encounter of faith and praise for every Christian community. This feast originated in a specific historical and cultural context: it was born for the very precise purpose of openly reaffirming the faith of the People of God in Jesus Christ, alive and truly present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist. It is a feast that was established in order to publicly adore, praise and thank the Lord, who continues "to love us "to the end', even to offering us his body and his blood" (Sacramentum Caritatis, n. 1). 

The Eucharistic celebration this evening takes us back to the spiritual atmosphere of Holy Thursday, the day on which in the Upper Room, on the eve of his Passion, Christ instituted the Most Holy Eucharist. 

Corpus Christi is thus a renewal of the mystery of Holy Thursday, as it were, in obedience to Jesus' invitation to proclaim from "the housetops" what he told us in secret (cf. Mt 10: 27). It was the Apostles who received the gift of the Eucharist from the Lord in the intimacy of the Last Supper, but it was destined for all, for the whole world. This is why it should be proclaimed and exposed to view: so that each one may encounter "Jesus who passes" as happened on the roads of Galilee, Samaria and Judea; in order that each one, in receiving it, may be healed and renewed by the power of his love. Dear friends, this is the perpetual and living heritage that Jesus has bequeathed to us in the Sacrament of his Body and his Blood. It is an inheritance that demands to be constantly rethought and relived so that, as venerable Pope Paul VI said, its "inexhaustible effectiveness may be impressed upon all the days of our mortal life" (cf. Insegnamenti, 25 May 1967, p. 779). 

Also in the Post-Synodal Exhortation, commenting on the exclamation of the priest after the consecration: "Let us proclaim the mystery of faith!", I observed: with these words he "proclaims the mystery being celebrated and expresses his wonder before the substantial change of bread and wine into the body and blood of the Lord Jesus, a reality which surpasses all human understanding" (n. 6). 

Precisely because this is a mysterious reality that surpasses our understanding, we must not be surprised if today too many find it hard to accept the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. It cannot be otherwise. This is how it has been since the day when, in the synagogue at Capernaum, Jesus openly declared that he had come to give us his flesh and his blood as food (cf. Jn 6: 26-58).
This seemed "a hard saying" and many of his disciples withdrew when they heard it. Then, as now, the Eucharist remains a "sign of contradiction" and can only be so because a God who makes himself flesh and sacrifices himself for the life of the world throws human wisdom into crisis. 

However, with humble trust, the Church makes the faith of Peter and the other Apostles her own and proclaims with them, and we proclaim: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life" (Jn 6: 68). Let us too renew this evening our profession of faith in Christ, alive and present in the Eucharist. Yes, "this [is] the truth each Christian learns, / bread into his flesh he turns, / to his precious blood the wine". 

At its culminating point, in the Sequence we sing: "Ecce panis angelorum, / factus cibus viatorum: / vere panis filiorum" - "Lo! The angel's food is given / to the pilgrim who has striven; / see the children's bread from heaven". And by God's grace we are the children. 

The Eucharist is the food reserved for those who in Baptism were delivered from slavery and have become sons; it is the food that sustained them on the long journey of the exodus through the desert of human existence. 

Like the manna for the people of Israel, for every Christian generation the Eucharist is the indispensable nourishment that sustains them as they cross the desert of this world, parched by the ideological and economic systems that do not promote life but rather humiliate it. It is a world where the logic of power and possessions prevails rather than that of service and love; a world where the culture of violence and death is frequently triumphant. 

Yet Jesus comes to meet us and imbues us with certainty: he himself is "the Bread of life" (Jn 6: 35, 48). He repeated this to us in the words of the Gospel Acclamation: "I am the living bread from Heaven, if any one eats of this bread, he will live for ever" (cf. Jn 6: 51). 

In the Gospel passage just proclaimed, St Luke, narrating the miracle of the multiplication of the five loaves and two fish with which Jesus fed the multitude "in a lonely place", concludes with the words: "And all ate and were satisfied" (cf. Lk 9: 11-17). 

I would like in the first place to emphasize this "all". Indeed, the Lord desired every human being to be nourished by the Eucharist, because the Eucharist is for everyone. 

If the close relationship between the Last Supper and the mystery of Jesus' death on the Cross is emphasized on Holy Thursday, today, the Feast of Corpus Christi, with the procession and unanimous adoration of the Eucharist, attention is called to the fact that Christ sacrificed himself for all humanity. His passing among the houses and along the streets of our city will be for those who live there an offering of joy, eternal life, peace and love. 

In the Gospel passage, a second element catches one's eye: the miracle worked by the Lord contains an explicit invitation to each person to make his own contribution. The two fish and five loaves signify our contribution, poor but necessary, which he transforms into a gift of love for all.
"Christ continues today" I wrote in the above-mentioned Post Synodal Exhortation, "to exhort his disciples to become personally engaged" (Sacramentum Caritatis, n. 88). 

Thus, the Eucharist is a call to holiness and to the gift of oneself to one's brethren: "Each of us is truly called, together with Jesus, to be bread broken for the life of the world" (ibid.). 

Our Redeemer addressed this invitation in particular to us, dear brothers and sisters of Rome, gathered round the Eucharist in this historical square. 

I greet you all with affection. My greeting is addressed first of all to the Cardinal Vicar and to the Auxiliary Bishops, to my other venerable Brother Cardinals and Bishops, as well as to the numerous priests and deacons, men and women religious and the many lay faithful. 

At the end of the Eucharistic celebration we will join in the procession as if to carry the Lord Jesus in spirit through all the streets and neighbourhoods of Rome. We will immerse him, so to speak, in the daily routine of our lives, so that he may walk where we walk and live where we live. 

Indeed we know, as the Apostle Paul reminded us in his Letter to the Corinthians, that in every Eucharist, also in the Eucharist this evening, we "proclaim the Lord's death until he comes" (cf. I Cor 11: 26). We travel on the highways of the world knowing that he is beside us, supported by the hope of being able to see him one day face to face, in the definitive encounter. 

In the meantime, let us listen to his voice repeat, as we read in the Book of Revelation, "Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me" (Rv 3: 20). 

The Feast of Corpus Christi wants to make the Lord's knocking audible, despite the hardness of our interior hearing. Jesus knocks at the door of our heart and asks to enter not only for the space of a day but for ever. Let us welcome him joyfully, raising to him with one voice the invocation of the Liturgy: 

"Very bread, Good Shepherd, tend us, / Jesu, of your love befriend us.... /You who all things can and know, /who on earth such food bestow, / grant us with your saints, though lowest, / where the heav'nly feast you show, / fellow heirs and guests to be". 

Amen!

[Pope Benedict, homily, 7 June 2007]

1. "Ecclesia de Eucharistia vivit" - "The Church draws her life from the Eucharist". The Encyclical Letter on the Eucharist, which I signed last Holy Thursday during the Mass of the Lord's Supper, begins with these words. Today's Solemnity of "Corpus Christi" recalls that evocative celebration and at the same time makes us relive the intense atmosphere of the Last Supper. 

"Take; this is my body... This is my blood" (Mk 14: 22-24). Let us listen again to Jesus' words while he offers his disciples the bread that has become his Body and the wine that has become his Blood. In this way he inaugurates the new paschal rite: the Eucharist is the sacrament of the new and eternal Covenant. 

With those acts and words, Christ brings to fulfilment the long ordinances of the ancient rites, mentioned just now in the First Reading (cf. Ex 24: 3-8). 

2. The Church returns constantly to the Upper Room as to the place of her birth. She returns to it because the Eucharistic gift establishes a mysterious "oneness in time" between the Passover of the Lord and the perennial making present of the paschal mystery in the world and in every generation (cf. Ecclesia de Eucharistia, n. 5). 

This evening too, with deep gratitude to God, let us reflect in silence before the mystery of faith - mysterium fidei. Let us contemplate it with that profound feeling which, in the Encyclical, I called "Eucharistic amazement" (ibid., n. 6): immense and grateful wonder at the Sacrament in which Christ wanted "to concentrate" forever his entire mystery of love (cf. ibid., n. 5). 

Let us contemplate the Eucharistic face of Christ, as did the Apostles and later, the saints of all the centuries. Let us contemplate him above all by learning at the school of Mary, "woman "of the Eucharist' in her whole life" (ibid., n. 53), the One who was "the first "tabernacle' in history" (ibid., n. 55). 

3. This is the meaning of the beautiful tradition of Corpus Christi which is renewed this evening. With it, the Church that is in Rome also shows her constitutive link with the Eucharist, and professes joyfully that she "draws her life from the Eucharist". 

Her Bishop, the Successor of Peter, and his Brothers in the Episcopate and in the Priesthood also draw their life from the Eucharist; men and women Religious, consecrated lay people and the baptized all draw their life from the Eucharist. 

Christian families in particular, to whom a few days ago the Diocesan Ecclesial Convention was dedicated, draw their life from the Eucharist. Dear families of Rome! May the living presence of Christ in the Eucharist foster the grace of marriage in you and allow you to progress on the path of conjugal and family holiness.Draw from this wellspring the secret of your unity and love, imitating the example of the Blessed husband and wife, Luigi and Maria Beltrame Quattrochi, who began their days by partaking in the Eucharistic Banquet. 

4. After Holy Mass, we will set out praying and singing for the Basilica of St Mary Major. With this procession we want to express symbolically our existence as pilgrims, "viatores", bound for the heavenly homeland. 

We are not alone on our pilgrimage: Christ, the Bread of life, walks with us: "panis angelorum, factus cibus viatorum" - "Lo the angel's food is given to the pilgrim..." (Sequence). 

May Jesus, the spiritual food that nourishes the hope of believers, sustain us on this journey towards Heaven and strengthen our communion with the heavenly Church. 

The Most Holy Eucharist, a glimpse of Heaven appearing on earth, pierces the clouds of our history. A glorious ray of the heavenly Jerusalem, it lights up our journey (cf. Ecclesia de Eucharistia, n. 19). 

5. "Ave verum corpus natum de Maria Virgine": Hail, true Body of Christ, born of the Virgin Mary! 

The soul melts into wonder and adoration before so sublime a Mystery. 

"Vere passum, immolatum in cruce pro homine". From your death on the Cross, O Lord, flows life for us which never dies. 

"Esto nobis praegustatum mortis in examine". O Lord, obtain that each one of us, nourished by you, may face all of life's trials with confident hope, until the day when you will be our viaticum for the last journey to the Father's house. 

"O Iesu dulcis! O Iesu pie! O Iesu, fili Mariae! - O sweet Jesus, O pious Jesus! O Jesus, Son of Mary!".

Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, 19 June 2003]