In the life of the Church, the first steps she took, in a certain way, reflected what had happened in Jesus’ public life at Martha and Mary’s house in Bethany. Martha was completely taken up with the service of hospitality to offer to Jesus and his disciples; Mary, on the contrary, devoted herself to listening to the Lord’s word (cf. Lk 10:38-42). In neither case were the moments of prayer and of listening to God, and daily activity, the exercise of charity in opposition. Jesus’ reminder, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; one thing is needful. Mary has chosen the good portion, which shall not be taken away from her” (Lk 10:41-42) and, likewise, the Apostles’ reflection: “We will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word” (Acts 6:4), show the priority we must give to God. I do not wish here to enter into the interpretation of this Martha-Mary passage. In any case activity undertaken to help one’s neighbor, “the other”, is not to be condemned, but it is essential to stress the need for it to be imbued also with the spirit of contemplation. Moreover, St Augustine says that this reality of Mary is a vision of our situation from heaven, so on earth we can never possess it completely but a little anticipation must be present in all our activities. Contemplation of God must also be present. We must not lose ourselves in pure activism but always let ourselves also be penetrated in our activities by the light of the word of God and thereby learn true charity, true service to others, which does not need many things — it certainly needs the necessary things — but needs above all our heartfelt affection and the light of God.

In commenting on the episode of Martha and Mary St Ambrose urges his faithful and us too: “Let us too seek to have what cannot be taken from us, dedicating diligent, not distracted attention to the Lord’s word. The seeds of the heavenly word are blown away, if they are sown along the roadside. May the wish to know be an incentive to you too, as it was to Mary, this is the greatest and most perfect act”. And he added that “attention to the ministry must not distract from knowledge of the heavenly word” through prayer (Expositio Evangelii secundunm Lucam, VII, 85 PL 15, 1720).

Saints have therefore experienced a profound unity of life between prayer and action, between total love for God and love for their brethren. St Bernard, who is a model of harmony between contemplation and hard work, in his book De consideratione, addressed to Pope Innocent II to offer him some reflections on his ministry, insists precisely on the importance of inner recollection, of prayer to defend oneself from the dangers of being hyper-active, whatever our condition and whatever the task to be carried out. St Bernard says that all too often too much work and a frenetic life-style end by hardening the heart and causing the spirit to suffer (cf.II, 3). 

His words are a precious reminder to us today, used as we are to evaluating everything with the criterion of productivity and efficiency. The passage from the Acts of the Apostles reminds us of the importance — without a doubt a true and proper ministry is created — of devotion to daily activities which should be carried out with responsibility and dedication and also our need for God, for his guidance, for his light which gives us strength and hope. Without daily prayer lived with fidelity, our acts are empty, they lose their profound soul, and are reduced to being mere activism which in the end leaves us dissatisfied. There is a beautiful invocation of the Christian tradition to be recited before any other activity which says: “Actiones nostras, quæsumus, Domine, aspirando præveni et adiuvando prosequere, ut cuncta nostra oratio et operatio a te semper incipiat, et per te coepta finiatur”; that is, “Inspire our actions, Lord, and accompany them with your help, so that our every word and action may always begin and end in you”. Every step in our life, every action, of the Church too, must be taken before God, in the light of his word.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 25 April 2012]

We have just read in the Gospel according to Luke the episode of the hospitality given to Jesus by Martha and Mary. These two sisters, in the history of Christian spirituality, have been understood as emblematic figures referring, respectively, to action and contemplation: Martha is busy with housework, while Mary is sitting at the feet of Jesus to listen to his word. We can glean two lessons from this Gospel text.

First, Jesus' final sentence should be noted: 'Mary has chosen the better part, which shall not be taken away from her'. He thus strongly emphasises the fundamental and irreplaceable value that listening to the Word of God has for our existence: it must be our constant point of reference, our light and our strength. But we must listen to it.

It is necessary to know how to be silent, to create spaces of solitude or, better, of meeting reserved for intimacy with the Lord. We must know how to contemplate. Man today feels a great need not to limit himself to pure material concerns, and instead to supplement his technical culture with superior and detoxifying inputs from the world of the spirit. Unfortunately, our daily life risks or even experiences cases, more or less widespread, of inner pollution. But the contact of faith with the word of the Lord purifies us, uplifts us and restores our energy.

Therefore, we must always keep before the eyes of our hearts the mystery of love, with which God has come to meet us in his Son, Jesus Christ: the object of our contemplation is all here, and from here comes our salvation, the redemption from every form of alienation and especially from that of sin. In essence, we are invited to do as the other Mary, the Mother of Jesus, who "kept all these things, pondering them in her heart" (Lk 2:19). It is on this condition that we will not be one-dimensional men, but rich in God's own greatness.

But there is a second lesson to learn; and that is that we must never see a contrast between action and contemplation. Indeed, we read in the Gospel that it was "Martha" (and not Mary) who welcomed Jesus "into her house". Moreover, today's First Reading suggests to us the harmony between the two: the episode of the hospitality granted by Abraham to the three mysterious characters sent by the Lord, who, according to an ancient interpretation, are even images of the Holy Trinity, teaches us that even with our most minute daily tasks we can serve the Lord and be in contact with him. And, as this year marks the 15th centenary of St Benedict's birth, let us recall his famous motto: 'Pray and work', Ora et labora! These words contain an entire programme: not of opposition but of synthesis, not of contrast but of fusion between two equally important elements.

The result is a very concrete lesson for us, which can be expressed in the form of a question: to what extent are we able to see in contemplation and prayer a moment of genuine charge for our daily tasks? And, on the other hand, to what extent are we able to innervate our work to the core with a leavening communion with the Lord? These questions can serve for an examination of conscience and become a stimulus for a resumption of our daily life, which is both more contemplative and more active.

[Pope John Paul II, homily 20 July 1980]

In today’s Gospel the Evangelist Luke writes about Jesus who, on the way to Jerusalem, enters a village and is welcomed into the home of two sisters: Martha and Mary (cf. Lk 10:38-42). Both welcome the Lord, but they do so in different ways. Mary sits at Jesus’ feet and listens to his words (cf. v. 39), whereas Martha is completely caught up in preparing things; at a certain point she says to Jesus: “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me” (v. 40). Jesus responds to her: “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; one thing is needful. Mary has chosen the good portion, which shall not be taken away from her” (vv. 41-42). 

In bustling about and busying herself, Martha risks forgetting — and this is the problem — the most important thing, which is the presence of the guest, Jesus in this case. She forgets about the presence of the guest. A guest is not merely to be served, fed, looked after in every way. Most importantly he ought to be listened to. Remember this word: Listen! A guest should be welcomed as a person, with a story, his heart rich with feelings and thoughts, so that he may truly feel like he is among family. If you welcome a guest into your home but continue doing other things, letting him just sit there, both of you in silence, it is as if he were of stone: a guest of stone. No. A guest is to be listened to. Of course, Jesus’ response to Martha — when he tells her that there is only one thing that needs to be done — finds its full significance in reference to listening to the very word of Jesus, that word which illuminates and supports all that we are and what we do. If we go to pray, for example, before the Crucifix, and we talk, talk, talk, and then we leave, we do not listen to Jesus. We do not allow him to speak to our heart. Listen: this is the key word. Do not forget! And we must not forget that in the house of Martha and Mary, Jesus, before being Lord and Master, is a pilgrim and guest. Thus, his response has this significance first and foremost: “Martha, Martha why do you busy yourself doing so much for this guest even to the point of forgetting about his presence? — A guest of stone! — Not much is necessary to welcome him; indeed, only one thing is needed: listen to him — this is the word: listen to him — be brotherly to him, let him realize he is among family and not in a temporary shelter. 

Understood in this light, hospitality, which is one of the works of mercy, is revealed as a truly human and Christian virtue, a virtue which in today’s world is at risk of being overlooked. In fact, nursing homes and hospices are multiplying, but true hospitality is not always practised in these environments. Various institutions are opened to care for many types of disease, of loneliness, of marginalization, but opportunities are decreasing for those who are foreign, marginalized, excluded, from finding someone ready to listen to them: because they are foreigners, refugees, migrants. Listen to that painful story. Even in one’s own home, among one’s own family members, it might be easier to find services and care of various kinds rather than listening and welcome. Today we are so taken, by excitement, by countless problems — some of which are not important — that we lack the capacity to listen. We are constantly busy and thus we have no time to listen. I would like to ask you, to pose a question to you, each one answer in your own heart: do you, husband, take time to listen to your wife? And do you, woman, take time to listen to your husband? Do you, parents, take time, time to “waste”, to listen to your children? or your grandparents, the elderly? — “But grandparents always say the same things, they are boring...” — But they need to be listened to! Listen. I ask that you learn to listen and to devote more of your time. The root of peace lies in the capacity to listen.

May the Virgin Mary, Mother of listening and of service and of attentive care, teach us to be welcoming and hospitable to our brothers and our sisters.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 17 July 2016]

Not from the precept, but from the overthrow

(Lk 10:25-37)

«You are a fool and a samaritan!» - so the Jewish leaders (Jn 8:48). «No, I am not crazy...»: this is how the Stranger defended himself from the accusation that the fanatics moved to him, of being a possessed, obsessed and mentally ill.

Yet he quietly accepted the infamous title of «Samaritan»... epithet that designated one out of the loop, a vilified by decent people. 

An excluded person from the sacred enclosure; practically alien, irritating, avulsive, heretic and impure: a «bastard» and deranged who allowed himself to preach love in all decisions [heart], at every moment [life], with any of the resources [forces], not excluding intelligence, nor the others’ legitimate desire for the full being (v.27).

Well, the non-careless perception and the very sensitive work of a "mestizo" seem to be those of God!

They answer the crucial, intimate question: «Who loves me first, so that feeling welcomed, adequate and appreciated, I too can love my neighbour?» (v.29).

We know the Gospel passage. Those obsessed with ritual purity [the ministers who had just officiated] become ruthless.

And here is a new Decalogue, with an accumulation of "verbs" of the «take charge»:

«He came near, and saw him, moved to piety, went down, poured out his first aid, wrapped the wounds, loaded the wretched on the mount, brought him in the abode that receives everyone, took care, pulled out money».

Finally He exposed himself, with special regard also for a thoughtful and further look: «I will return to pay, where necessary».

The Ten authentic new Decrees deify us without deception, in harmony with the plan and the feeling of the Father in our favor: neither He nor his intimates ‘pass beyond’ the victims.

Promise and concern that ramify on our future: when there should be something else to be put in addition, the Friend Rescuer will give it in more and always.

From here Love starts: from Someone who considers us, without conditions.

Therefore, despite the risk of becoming entangled in the situation, even the common sons of God ‘notice’ the wounds, and does not “neglect” the shaky persons.

They identifiy with, preferring to challenge the events - redeeming the beaten, cornered as refusals that now await only the coup de grâce.

He is a God of concrete experience; without patterns. And He tells us:

We are totally lovable in every condition, not "wrong" or marked for life.

From this awareness springs the desire and energy of altruistic love - even unknown and without reputation.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasizes, so it will be possible to «start from below and, case by case, act at the most concrete and local levels, and then expand to the farthest reaches of our countries and our world, with the same care and concern that the Samaritan showed for each of the wounded man’s injuries» (n.78).

In the desert of Judah, on an engraved stone of a caravanserai that a tradition wanted to identify as the Everyone’s Home [image of the Church] to which Jesus referred in the parable - more or less halfway between Jerusalem and Jericho - an anonymous pilgrim wrote in medieval Latin:

«If even priests and the churchmen pass over your anguish, know that Christ is the good Samaritan, who will always have compassion on you, and in the hour of your death He will introduce you in the eternal Inn. Whoever you are, He will take you there».

[Monday 27th wk. in O.T.  October 5, 2026]

Not from the precept, but from the overthrow

(Lk 10:25-37)

"You are a fool and a Samaritan!" - accused the Jewish leaders (Jn 8:48). "No, I am not mad...": this is how the Stranger defended himself against the accusation that the fanatics made against him, that he was possessed, obsessed and mentally ill.

Yet he calmly accepted the infamous title of 'Samaritan'... an epithet designating one who was out of the loop, vilified by decent people. 

One excluded from the sacred enclosure; practically an outsider, an irritant, an outsider, a heretic and impure: a 'bastard' and unbalanced, uninterested in his career, in the face of which one had to find strength in coalition.

The ancient religion seemed to have achieved tried and tested balances, sustained by the leadership of the interested alliance between throne and altar. Yet there was nervousness and dissatisfaction in the faithful.

The leaders quoted Scripture from memory, but to create restrictions - demonising those who did not immediately recognise them as 'authority'.

According to the Law - Leviticus and Numbers - the rules of purity prevented those who officiated in the Temple from touching a wounded person.

But the practitioners of the sacred do not understand that ancient procedures are worthless if they cause suffering to others.

By sacralising their own grievances, the legalists in the parable imagine that they do not have to learn anything, so they become perhaps worse than the insensitive and qualunquist: to us they appear rather, cruel and inhuman.

When there is a conflict between religious norms and the good of the brothers, they already have their excuses ready: they do not even notice the others. Painful events do not call them out, do not concern them.

In this way, even the traps of the vain against Jesus were never dialogue: always projections.

And the questions were only hurled to ridicule him, not to understand - question - or create freedom.

In short: what matters to some is the integrity of the doctrine-discipline and the prestige of the institution (which rules it).

Yet we ask ourselves: how much is the joy of humanity, and the good of the unfortunate, worth?

The man of 'titles' has no doubts whatsoever.

On the other hand, the careless perception and sensitive work of a 'half-breed' seem to be those of God himself!

The Lord gladly narrated his proposal of sharing, and of the new face of the believer.

Let us say it in words closer to us:

"Listen... no curtains: Love has no end point, and the believer is not one who obeys external provisions, but one who resembles God!".

After a brief reflexive gasp that he tried to disguise, the disposition expert retorted:

"Nice to say, of course; but how is it done in practice?".

And Jesus:

"In the same way as you think and equip yourself and desire fullness of life for yourself: in every decision [heart], in every moment of the way [life], with any of your resources [strength], not excluding intelligence" (cf. Mk 12:29-31), nor the legitimate desire for the life of others (v.27).

Already boiling over, the veteran squabbler played his last cards:

"I have to put a boundary on my neighbour, don't I?! And I justify myself again: who is 'my' neighbour?" (Lk 10:29).

"That is: who ever listens and loves me first, so that I can really do to others what I always desire for myself, even to those far away and enemies?"

"They do not feed us... and perhaps do not even respect us! So who is first 'to me' neighbour?"

Again the doctor of the law 'stood over', looming over the onlookers; but the different Rabbi did not flinch.

In conversations he was often forced (and accustomed) to lift his head, looking up at his interlocutor.

Everyone posed as an expert and chosen one, ready to scrutinise and judge; no one to be a disciple, subordinate and servant like him.

This is how he had behaved both with Zacchaeus (Lk 19:5) and with the adulteress - perhaps caught in the act by the group of peepers and watchers of public decency in Jerusalem (Jn 8, vv. 2.6-8.10; Greek text).

That carpenter's son proclaimed Father the One who related from below, without prior judgement; who made himself the Servant of man, putting himself on a par with the least.

In short, the crucial question was:

"Who loves me first, so that by feeling welcome, adequate and appreciated, I too may love my neighbour"?

The young Rabbi then told a story, to emphasise who is neighbour - He who is first Intimate and Close to us; so that we too are generated to proximity.

The ancient list of the Ten Commandments had over time become almost only an underlining of natural transience.

It was a code that imbued and exhausted the very souls most attentive to the ideal of perfection.

The last of the famous Words was summarising, but terrible: "Thou shalt not covet"!

It had spread dramatic lacerations and a sense of emptiness in the affairs of those closest to them who continued to attempt the impossible adventure.

Thus, the obsessives of ritual purity [priest and sacristan who had just officiated] became - by Law - ruthless.Instead, here proclaimed - by the stranger who had just arrived - a new Decalogue, with an accumulation of "verbs" of "taking charge":

"He came near, saw him, moved to pity, went down, poured out his first aid, bound up his wounds, loaded on his horse, carried to the dwelling that welcomes all, took care, brought out money".

Finally, he expounded, with special regard also for a caring and additional outlook: 'I will return to pay, where necessary'.

The authentic Ten New Decrees deify us without deception, in keeping with the Father's plan and feeling on our behalf: neither He nor His "pass over" victims.

In short, the Lord announced a different "Sacrifice".

In the custom of the time, through worship, the victim was supposed to be taken out of profane contact, in a bloody manner; on an altar.

With this sacral practice, the priests ideally introduced the victim into the world of the Most High, through the shedding of blood or a holocaust.

Instead, the Messiah did not want to distance the criteria of sanctification from the lives of ordinary people.

That which is made sacred [sacrifice: sacer-sacrum facere] must never depart from reality. It does not pass into the sphere of purity by means of a 'separation' from the weekday unclean.

For Jesus it is Communion - conviviality of differences - that transfigures the ordinary into the "Holy", because such a relationship makes the weak strong; and lifts all from misery.

Promise and concern that branch out into our future: when there is something else to be added, the Relief Friend will give it more and always.

This is where Love starts: from Someone who considers us, unconditionally.

Therefore, despite the risk of getting entangled in the situation, even the ordinary child of God notices and does not pass over the shaky person.

He identifies with it, preferring to defy the unknowns - and redeem the beaten, cornered like a reject who now only awaits the coup de grace.

He is a God of concrete experience; without schemes. And he tells us:

We are totally lovable in every condition, not 'wrong' or scarred for life.

From such awareness springs the desire and energy of selfless love - even unknown and without reputation.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises, so it will be "possible to start from the bottom and case by case, to fight for what is most concrete and local, to the last corner of the homeland and the world, with the same care that the wayfarer of Samaria had for every wounded man's wound" (No.78).

In the wilderness of Judah, on an engraved stone of a caravanserai that one tradition has identified as the Everyone’s House [image of the Church] to which Jesus referred in the parable - more or less halfway between Jerusalem and Jericho - an anonymous pilgrim wrote in medieval Latin

"If even priests and churchmen pass over your distress, know that Christ is the Good Samaritan, who will always have compassion on you, and at the hour of your death will bring you into the eternal inn. Whoever you are, He will take you there".

18. Love of neighbour is thus shown to be possible in the way proclaimed by the Bible, by Jesus. It consists in the very fact that, in God and with God, I love even the person whom I do not like or even know. This can only take place on the basis of an intimate encounter with God, an encounter which has become a communion of will, even affecting my feelings. Then I learn to look on this other person not simply with my eyes and my feelings, but from the perspective of Jesus Christ. His friend is my friend. Going beyond exterior appearances, I perceive in others an interior desire for a sign of love, of concern. This I can offer them not only through the organizations intended for such purposes, accepting it perhaps as a political necessity. Seeing with the eyes of Christ, I can give to others much more than their outward necessities; I can give them the look of love which they crave. Here we see the necessary interplay between love of God and love of neighbour which the First Letter of John speaks of with such insistence. If I have no contact whatsoever with God in my life, then I cannot see in the other anything more than the other, and I am incapable of seeing in him the image of God. But if in my life I fail completely to heed others, solely out of a desire to be “devout” and to perform my “religious duties”, then my relationship with God will also grow arid. It becomes merely “proper”, but loveless. Only my readiness to encounter my neighbour and to show him love makes me sensitive to God as well. Only if I serve my neighbour can my eyes be opened to what God does for me and how much he loves me. The saints—consider the example of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta—constantly renewed their capacity for love of neighbour from their encounter with the Eucharistic Lord, and conversely this encounter acquired its real- ism and depth in their service to others. Love of God and love of neighbour are thus inseparable, they form a single commandment. But both live from the love of God who has loved us first. No longer is it a question, then, of a “commandment” imposed from without and calling for the impossible, but rather of a freely-bestowed experience of love from within, a love which by its very nature must then be shared with others. Love grows through love. Love is “divine” because it comes from God and unites us to God; through this unifying process it makes us a “we” which transcends our divisions and makes us one, until in the end God is “all in all” (1 Cor 15:28).

[Pope Benedict, Deus Caritas est]

The different commandments of the Decalogue are really only so many reflections of the one commandment about the good of the person, at the level of the many different goods which characterize his identity as a spiritual and bodily being in relationship with God, with his neighbour and with the material world. As we read in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, "the Ten Commandments are part of God's Revelation. At the same time, they teach us man's true humanity. They shed light on the essential duties, and so indirectly on the fundamental rights, inherent in the nature of the human person".22

The commandments of which Jesus reminds the young man are meant to safeguard the good of the person, the image of God, by protecting his goods. "You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness" are moral rules formulated in terms of prohibitions. These negative precepts express with particular force the ever urgent need to protect human life, the communion of persons in marriage, private property, truthfulness and people's good name.

The commandments thus represent the basic condition for love of neighbour; at the same time they are the proof of that love. They are the first necessary step on the journey towards freedom, its starting-point. "The beginning of freedom", Saint Augustine writes, "is to be free from crimes... such as murder, adultery, fornication, theft, fraud, sacrilege and so forth. When once one is without these crimes (and every Christian should be without them), one begins to lift up one's head towards freedom. But this is only the beginning of freedom, not perfect freedom...".23

14. This certainly does not mean that Christ wishes to put the love of neighbour higher than, or even to set it apart from, the love of God. This is evident from his conversation with the teacher of the Law, who asked him a question very much like the one asked by the young man. Jesus refers him to the two commandments of love of God and love of neighbour (cf. Lk 10:25-27), and reminds him that only by observing them will he have eternal life: "Do this, and you will live" (Lk 10:28). Nonetheless it is significant that it is precisely the second of these commandments which arouses the curiosity of the teacher of the Law, who asks him: "And who is my neighbour?" (Lk 10:29). The Teacher replies with the parable of the Good Samaritan, which is critical for fully understanding the commandment of love of neighbour (cf. Lk 10:30-37).

These two commandments, on which "depend all the Law and the Prophets" (Mt 22:40), are profoundly connected and mutually related. Their inseparable unity is attested to by Christ in his words and by his very life: his mission culminates in the Cross of our Redemption (cf. Jn 3:14-15), the sign of his indivisible love for the Father and for humanity (cf. Jn 13:1).

Both the Old and the New Testaments explicitly affirm that without love of neighbour, made concrete in keeping the commandments, genuine love for God is not possible. Saint John makes the point with extraordinary forcefulness: "If anyone says, 'I love God', and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen" (Jn 4:20). The Evangelist echoes the moral preaching of Christ, expressed in a wonderful and unambiguous way in the parable of the Good Samaritan (cf. Lk 10:30-37) and in his words about the final judgment (cf. Mt 25:31-46).

15. In the "Sermon on the Mount", the magna charta of Gospel morality,24 Jesus says: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law and the Prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them" (Mt 5:17). Christ is the key to the Scriptures: "You search the Scriptures...; and it is they that bear witness to me" (Jn 5:39). Christ is the centre of the economy of salvation, the recapitulation of the Old and New Testaments, of the promises of the Law and of their fulfilment in the Gospel; he is the living and eternal link between the Old and the New Covenants. Commenting on Paul's statement that "Christ is the end of the law" (Rom 10:4), Saint Ambrose writes: "end not in the sense of a deficiency, but in the sense of the fullness of the Law: a fullness which is achieved in Christ (plenitudo legis in Christo est), since he came not to abolish the Law but to bring it to fulfilment. In the same way that there is an Old Testament, but all truth is in the New Testament, so it is for the Law: what was given through Moses is a figure of the true law. Therefore, the Mosaic Law is an image of the truth".25

Jesus brings God's commandments to fulfilment, particularly the commandment of love of neighbour, by interiorizing their demands and by bringing out their fullest meaning. Love of neighbour springs from a loving heart which, precisely because it loves, is ready to live out the loftiest challenges. Jesus shows that the commandments must not be understood as a minimum limit not to be gone beyond, but rather as a path involving a moral and spiritual journey towards perfection, at the heart of which is love (cf. Col 3:14). Thus the commandment "You shall not murder" becomes a call to an attentive love which protects and promotes the life of one's neighbour. The precept prohibiting adultery becomes an invitation to a pure way of looking at others, capable of respecting the spousal meaning of the body: "You have heard that it was said to the men of old, 'You shall not kill; and whoever kills shall be liable to judgment'. But I say to you that every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment... You have heard that it was said, 'You shall not commit adultery'. But I say to you that every one who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Mt 5:21-22, 27-28). Jesus himself is the living "fulfilment" of the Law inasmuch as he fulfils its authentic meaning by the total gift of himself: he himself becomes a living and personal Law, who invites people to follow him; through the Spirit, he gives the grace to share his own life and love and provides the strength to bear witness to that love in personal choices and actions (cf. Jn 13:34-35).

[Pope John Paul II, Veritatis Splendor nn.13-15]

Today the Gospel presents the well-known parable of the “Good Samaritan” (cf. Lk 10:25-37). When questioned by a doctor of the law on what is necessary to inherit eternal life, Jesus invites him to find the answer in the Scriptures, and says: “You shall love your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself” (v. 27). There were, however, different interpretations of who was intended as “neighbour”. In fact, that man also asks: “And who is my neighbour?” (v. 29). At this point, Jesus responds with the parable, this beautiful parable — I invite all of you to take up the Gospel today, the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 10, verse 25. It is one of the most beautiful parables in the Gospel. And this parable has become the paradigm of Christian life. It has become the example of how a Christian should act. Thanks to the Gospel of Luke, we have this treasure. 

The protagonist of the brief narrative is a Samaritan who, along the road encounters a man stripped and beaten by robbers, and takes care of him. We know that the Jews treated Samaritans with contempt, considering them as outsiders to the chosen people. Thus, it is no coincidence that Jesus chooses precisely a Samaritan as the positive character in the parable. In this way he seeks to overcome prejudice, by showing that even a foreigner, even one who does not know the true God and does not attend his temple, is capable of acting according to His will, showing compassion for a needy brother and helping him with all the means at his disposal.

Along that same road, before the Samaritan, a priest and a Levite had already passed — that is, people dedicated to the worship of God. However, on seeing the poor man on the ground, they continued on without stopping, probably so as not to be contaminated with his blood. They had prioritized a human rule — not to be contaminated with blood — linked to worship, over the great commandment of God who wants mercy above all. 

Jesus therefore, offers the Samaritan as an example — precisely one who did not have faith! Let us also consider the many people we know, perhaps agnostics, who do good. As a model, Jesus chooses one who was not a man of faith. And this man, by loving his brother as himself, shows that he loves God with all his heart and with all his strength — the God whom he does not know! — and at the same time expresses true religiosity and full humanity. 

After recounting this very beautiful parable, Jesus again addresses the doctor of the law who had asked Him “Who is my neighbour?”, and Jesus asks him: “Which of these three, do you think, proved neighbour to the man who fell among the robbers?” (v. 36). In this way he throws the question back to his interlocutor, and also overturns the mindset of us all. He makes us understand that based on our criteria, it is not we who define who is neighbour and who is not, but it is the person in a situation of need who must be able to recognize who is his neighbour, that is, “the one who showed mercy on him” (v. 37). Being able to have compassion: this is the key. This is our key. If you do not feel compassion before a needy person, if your heart is not moved, it means that something is not right. Be careful; let us be careful. 

Let us not allow ourselves to get carried away by egotistical insensitivity. The capacity for compassion has become the touchstone of Christians, indeed of the teachings of Jesus. Jesus himself is the Father’s compassion towards us. If you go along the street and see a homeless person lying there and pass him by without looking at him or you think: “well, it’s the effect of wine. He is a drunk”, do not ask yourself whether the man is drunk; ask yourself whether your heart has hardened, whether your heart has turned to ice. This conclusion indicates that mercy towards a human life in a state of need is the true face of love. This is how one becomes a true disciple of Jesus and the face of the Father is manifested: “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful” (Lk 6:36). And God, our Father, is merciful because he is compassionate. He is able to have this compassion, to draw near to our suffering, our sin, our vices, our miseries.

May the Virgin Mary help us to understand and above all to experience ever more the unbreakable bond between God, our Father, and concrete and generous love for our brothers and sisters, and may she give us the grace to be compassionate and to grow in compassion.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 14 July 2019]

(Mt 21:33-43.45-46)

Christ introduces everyone to an adventurous, uncomfortable journey, not without pitfalls that throw the situation upside down and destabilize - but it is the Way for each of us to recognize himself.

Otherwise we would not get closer to the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity - virtues that are necessary for rebirth, even from global emergency.

Jesus uses the figure of the Vineyard to describe the work of God and the response of men - first and foremost spiritual leaders (v.23).

Religious leaders were like this: hostile to divine action; equipped to appear, nevertheless violent and sclerotic.

The directors to whom Jesus addresses, follow the entire metaphor step by step - and they seem to find themselves unguarded. They only remain speechless at the end.

Why does He ask them imperatively: «Listen you» [which is not a simple invitation]?

From the beginning speaks with a master tone. Why?

He is Lord of those to whom he actually addresses: the Christ so much invoked by new caste of "pharisees" back in the communities, where top of the class already claimed to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated in third generation assemblies, especially by their chiefs.

Church elders who were already annoyed at taking care of the little people, who on the other hand came to the threshold of the communities with the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these «last» the new prophets called by God to awaken the immobility situation (of bosses) - comparable to the same swampy reality of other religions of time.

Everywhere and even today some potentates discriminate and manipulate consciences in order to protect their world - by eliminating Jesus Present, who recurs in the small, innocent and transparent ones.

Veterans accustomed to directing do not notice that they are decreeing their own condemnation (v. 41).

Of course, Christ does not intend to ridicule anyone: He wanted to lead people to ‘tell the truth’ about themselves.

In Gospel the behavior of the titled people does not change. On the contrary, feeling unmasked gets worse it, and only the hesitation of losing face in public can restrain them (vv.45-46).

But now they know who they are - so much so that they are ashamed to openly plot.

Categories that are considered closer to Paradise - those who produce inedible grapes - excluded from the testimony of the Kingdom innervated by tinies’ crowd.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of inept settlers (v.43).

It is «good news»: the Eternal one achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who should serve Him, and instead use Him.

In short, for Jesus the great enemy of God is expediency.

Even amidst ungenerous brutality and accusations of being deluded dreamers, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit are ready for succession.

An unstoppable course, sprinkled by the stream of blood of the prophets (v.46).

Outcasts, shunned, expelled, and to be crushed - but not locked into mental patterns: capable of giving free rein to regenerative energies.

Consciousness of the world, divorced from compromise.

[27th Sunday in O.T. (year A), October 4, 2026]

(Mt 21:33–43, 45–46)

    This is a continuous metaphor rather than a parable; it is therefore the fruit of post-Easter reflection – let us see why.

Christ leads us all on an adventurous, unsettling journey, not without pitfalls that turn the situation on its head and destabilise us – yet it is the Way by which each of us may come to know ourselves.

Otherwise, we would not be able to reconnect with the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity – virtues that are essential for rebirth, even in the face of the global crisis.

Jesus uses the image of the Vineyard to describe God’s work and humanity’s response – first and foremost that of the spiritual leaders (v. 23).

The religious leaders of old were just like that: hostile to divine action; skilled at putting on a show, yet violent and ossified.

The leaders to whom Jesus addresses himself follow the entire metaphor step by step – they seem to be caught off guard – and are left speechless only at the very end.

Why does he address them in such an imperious manner: ‘Listen’ [which is not a mere invitation]?

From the very beginning, he speaks in the tone of a master. Why?

He is the Lord of those to whom he is actually addressing himself: the Christ so fervently invoked by the new caste of ‘Pharisees’ returning to their assemblies, where already the top students were claiming the right to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated within third-generation communities, particularly by their leaders.

Church elders who were already annoyed at having to deal with the ordinary folk who turned up at the threshold of the communities in the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these ‘least’ who were the new prophets called by God to shake up the stagnant situation (of the veterans) – comparable to the very same stagnant reality found in other religions of that time.

In this way, let us proceed to a possible interpretation:

The hedge or low wall surrounding the Vineyard is the plan that God has revealed to protect us from other ways of life [paradigms not of Faith], which are senseless and self-destructive.

The winepress signifies that nothing was lacking [the Lord took the utmost care], nor was the anticipation of the time of joy, of the juice of love.

In short: excellent conditions and an abundant result; maximum production of ecstasy – one would expect. However…

The vineyard workers represent the established authorities. They have been entrusted with the task of placing us in the best position and under the right conditions for our growth and flourishing.

Indeed, under ideal conditions, everyone can produce the fruit of love that the ‘master of the vineyard’ expects.

The two groups of envoys were prophets sent by the Father before and after the Babylonian exile – in vain – to call for concrete adherence to, and fidelity to, the Covenant.

All met with a tragic end, because the point of reference for both the devout people and the irresponsible leaders remained the same: self-enrichment.

Here are the various groups in power at the time of Jesus:

Those in charge of Temple affairs [priests] managed the tithes, specific taxes and offerings.

The high priest was chosen from among the members of the aristocratic families who flaunted the greatest power and wealth.

The Sadducees were, in fact, the aristocratic elite; laymen themselves, and extremely wealthy. They readily involved themselves in trade, including that of the Temple, and in large-scale landownership.

The Pharisees were the leaders of popular piety, advocating strict adherence to the Law, particularly the purity laws. They also upheld the various traditions, including oral ones.

Their ethical authority was based on setting an example and a sense of sacred [and moralistic] separation. This exemplary conduct was felt and recognised in every village in Palestine.

The ‘Elders’ were leaders of the people (local authorities in villages or towns); descendants of the leaders of the ancient tribes.

Scribes [doctors of the Law] were those who, after a lifetime of studying the Word of God, were elevated to the rank of official theologians of the Sanhedrin.

Although divided into two factions – one favouring the Sadducees, the other the Pharisees – their prestige even managed to overshadow the letter of the Torah. Indeed, in the event of a conflict between the Law and their interpretation, it was the latter that was deemed superior.

Jesus, on the other hand, discredited the scholars, who readily distorted and twisted the meaning of the Holy Scriptures – always to their own advantage.

He knew full well that his act of denunciation would cost him his life, because he was exposing the entire system of profit, power balances and positions.

Yet he never backed down a single millimetre.

Everywhere, and even today, certain powerful figures discriminate against and manipulate people’s consciences to safeguard their commissions and their farcical world of public and private relations.

Despite all the hypocritical and conventional fire of condemnation, which often seeks to eliminate the ‘Present Jesus’ who reveals himself in the small, innocent and transparent.

Conversely, the supreme stewards of the House of God must adopt an attitude of service to the Vineyard; they must not draw up their own life plans, to which everyone – including the Father – must conform.

It is for this reason that the Son sought to dismantle that structure: indeed, to supplant the Temple with his own living Person.

A genuine mortal threat to a system that could no longer even tolerate the interference of God Himself.

But whilst it was considered irreverent to substitute the life of the people for the stone sanctuary, it also seemed sacrilegious to regard the Torah system as transitory.

The Pentateuch was the cornerstone of the ‘chosen people’s’ identity. This idea was interpreted with a rigid sense of permanence – even though its observance brought not happiness but dissatisfaction.

Yet the old guard, accustomed to hierarchical structures – and to being in charge – did not even realise that in doing so they were sealing their own doom (v. 41).

Of course, Christ does not intend to ridicule anyone: He wishes to lead people to question themselves and speak the truth about themselves.

In the Gospel, the behaviour of those holding official positions of piety does not change; on the contrary, feeling exposed, it worsens.

Only the fear of losing face in public can hold them back (vv. 45–46).

But now they know who they are, so much so that they are ashamed to plot openly.

The ‘inner circle’, who consider themselves closer to Heaven and therefore holders of power (which they claim for themselves), are invariably those who produce inedible grapes.

Circles excluded from the witness of the Kingdom.

The ageing forces know only how to oppose. The lifelong leaders – pretentious fools – always love command, and (all too much) their own interests, not those of the humble masses.

Unfortunately, this Gospel passage is a snapshot of the entire history of salvation, where disdain all too often prevails – and it is still relevant today.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of the inept tenants (v. 43).

It is ‘good news’: the Lord achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who ought to represent him, and who instead use him. Having no fruit of love to offer in return.

In short, it is our own story. The enigma of redemption, capable of embracing even violence and rebellion within itself.

For Jesus, there is no privileged ethnicity or civilisation – because God’s great enemy is not sin in the sense of imperfection, but self-interest.

Self-interest that goes hand in hand with indifference and (self-serving) contempt: a recurring problem – bringing history to a close.

And yet, when the days of fervour fade and the situation grinds to a halt because of those who see election as a privilege rather than a service, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit ceaselessly emerge. Ready to carry on the legacy of minds and hearts, even amidst ungenerous brutality and accusations of being deluded dreamers.

An unstoppable course, watered by the stream of the prophets’ blood (v.46).

Outcasts, struck off, expelled and destined to be crushed – yet not confined within outdated mental frameworks: capable of giving free rein to regenerating energies.

The world’s conscience, detached from compromise.