Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

In this Sunday's Gospel there is an expression of Jesus that always attracts our attention and needs to be properly understood. 

While he is on his way to Jerusalem, where death on a cross awaits him, Christ asked his disciples: "Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division". And he adds: "[H]enceforth in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three; they will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against her mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Lk 12: 51-53). 

Anyone who has even the slightest knowledge of Christ's Gospel knows that it is a message of peace par excellence; as St Paul wrote, Jesus himself "is our peace" (Eph 2: 14), the One who died and rose in order to pull down the wall of enmity and inaugurate the Kingdom of God which is love, joy and peace. 

So how can his words be explained? To what was the Lord referring when he said he had come - according to St Luke's version - to bring "division" or - according to St Matthew's - the "sword" (Mt 10: 34)? 

Christ's words mean that the peace he came to bring us is not synonymous with the mere absence of conflicts. On the contrary, Jesus' peace is the result of a constant battle against evil. The fight that Jesus is determined to support is not against human beings or human powers, but against Satan, the enemy of God and man. 

Anyone who desires to resist this enemy by remaining faithful to God and to good, must necessarily confront misunderstandings and sometimes real persecutions. 

All, therefore, who intend to follow Jesus and to commit themselves without compromise to the truth, must know that they will encounter opposition and that in spite of themselves they will become a sign of division between people, even in their own families. In fact, love for one's parents is a holy commandment, but to be lived authentically it can never take precedence over love for God and love for Christ. 

Thus, following in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus, in accordance with St Francis of Assisi's famous words, Christians become "instruments of peace"; not of a peace that is inconsistent and only apparent but one that is real, pursued with courage and tenacity in the daily commitment to overcome evil with good (cf. Rom 12: 21) and paying in person the price that this entails. 

The Virgin Mary, Queen of Peace, shared until his martyrdom her Son Jesus' fight with the Devil and continues to share in it to the end of time. Let us invoke her motherly intercession so that she may help us always to be witnesses of Christ's peace and never to sink so low as to make compromises with evil.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 19 August 2007]

1. The World Day of Peace this year is being celebrated in the shadow of the dramatic events of 11 September last. On that day, a terrible crime was committed: in a few brief hours thousands of innocent people of many ethnic backgrounds were slaughtered. Since then, people throughout the world have felt a profound personal vulnerability and a new fear for the future. Addressing this state of mind, the Church testifies to her hope, based on the conviction that evil, the mysterium iniquitatis, does not have the final word in human affairs. The history of salvation, narrated in Sacred Scripture, sheds clear light on the entire history of the world and shows us that human events are always accompanied by the merciful Providence of God, who knows how to touch even the most hardened of hearts and bring good fruits even from what seems utterly barren soil.  

This is the hope which sustains the Church at the beginning of 2002: that, by the grace of God, a world in which the power of evil seems once again to have taken the upper hand will in fact be transformed into a world in which the noblest aspirations of the human heart will triumph, a world in which true peace will prevail.

Peace: the work of justice and love 

2. Recent events, including the terrible killings just mentioned, move me to return to a theme which often stirs in the depths of my heart when I remember the events of history which have marked my life, especially my youth.  

The enormous suffering of peoples and individuals, even among my own friends and acquaintances, caused by Nazi and Communist totalitarianism, has never been far from my thoughts and prayers. I have often paused to reflect on the persistent question: how do we restore the moral and social order subjected to such horrific violence? My reasoned conviction, confirmed in turn by biblical revelation, is that the shattered order cannot be fully restored except by a response that combines justice with forgiveness. The pillars of true peace are justice and that form of love which is forgiveness.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the xxxv World Day of Peace]

The Gospel for this Sunday (Lk 12:49-53) is part of Jesus’ teachings to the disciples during his journey to Jerusalem, where death on the cross awaits him. To explain the purpose of his mission, he takes three images: fire, baptism and division. Today I wish to talk about the first image: fire.

Jesus expresses it with these words: “I came to cast fire upon the earth; and would that it were already kindled!” (v. 49). The fire that Jesus speaks of is the fire of the Holy Spirit, the presence living and working in us from the day of our Baptism. It — the fire — is a creative force that purifies and renews, that burns all human misery, all selfishness, all sin, which transforms us from within, regenerates us and makes us able to love. Jesus wants the Holy Spirit to blaze like fire in our heart, for it is only from the heart that the fire of divine love can spread and advance the Kingdom of God. It does not come from the head, it comes from the heart. This is why Jesus wants fire to enter our heart. If we open ourselves completely to the action of this fire which is the Holy Spirit, He will give us the boldness and the fervor to proclaim to everyone Jesus and his consoling message of mercy and salvation, navigating on the open sea, without fear.

In fulfilling her mission in the world, the Church — namely all of us who make up the Church — needs the Holy Spirit’s help so as not to let herself be held back by fear and by calculation, so as not to become accustomed to walking inside of safe borders. These two attitudes lead the Church to be a functional Church, which never takes risks. Instead, the apostolic courage that the Holy Spirit kindles in us like a fire helps us to overcome walls and barriers, makes us creative and spurs us to get moving in order to walk even on uncharted or arduous paths, offering hope to those we meet. With this fire of the Holy Spirit we are called to become, more and more, communities of people who are guided and transformed, full of understanding; people with expanded hearts and joyful faces. Now more than ever there is need for priests, consecrated people and lay faithful, with the attentive gaze of an apostle, to be moved by and to pause before hardship and material and spiritual poverty, thus characterizing the journey of evangelization and of the mission with the healing cadence of closeness. It is precisely the fire of the Holy Spirit that leads us to be neighbours to others, to the needy, to so much human misery, to so many problems, to refugees, to displaced people, to those who are suffering.

At this moment I am thinking with admiration especially of the many priests, men and women religious and lay faithful who, throughout the world, are dedicated to proclaiming the Gospel with great love and faithfulness, often even at the cost of their lives. Their exemplary testimony reminds us that the Church does not need bureaucrats and diligent officials, but passionate missionaries, consumed by ardour to bring to everyone the consoling word of Jesus and his grace. This is the fire of the Holy Spirit. If the Church does not receive this fire, or does not let it inflame her, she becomes a cold or merely lukewarm Church, incapable of giving life, because she is made up of cold and lukewarm Christians. It will do us good today to take five minutes to ask ourselves: “How is my heart? Is it cold? Is it lukewarm? Is it capable of receiving this fire?”. Let us take five minutes for this. It will do everyone good.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 14 August 2016]

Without intimate contentions

(Lk 12:39-48)

Jesus reproaches his intimates [those of the House]: it is neither love nor freedom not to be able to understand in which direction to go, not to have a goal that transmits meaning to our pilgrimage.

Already in the communities of the first centuries was alive the idea of the end of the world and of the immediately subsequent «return» of the Risen One - to fix things, like any other Messiah. So someone did not commit himself anymore. Others was remaining with their noses pointing up, to peer into the sky.

But the Coming of Christ is always imminent, and the Judgment on the things of the world has already been pronounced on the Cross.

In his Spirit who makes all events new, and in his disciples, the Lord has never moved elsewhere (nor above) [cf. Mt 28,20].

The final phase of history begins precisely from this germ of Faith not alienated, of Person not repressed, and of an alternative society; but the history to be written is the task of the Church.

The new heaven and new earth of the divinising Presence is already throbbing. In this way, He is next to us when we fight for realization and the full existence of everyone.

In no passage of the Gospels it is written that Jesus «will return»: although not perceptible to the senses, He never went away.

He enjoys a full Life, not conditioned by space-time coordinates like ours.

He is the One Coming [Greek text, passim]: the One who incessantly makes Himself Present, and becomes a travelling companion - not only in exceptional figure.

The attention of the impressionable people already in the 80s shifted (unfortunately) to the Return instead of the «unceasing Coming» [that is, perception of his Friendship in even common things, in the Appeal of the needy; in the Call of intuitions, of the Word, of the companions of our journey; in the genius of time, and even in everyday facts].

His «Coming» is: in the goals that smile, but even and perhaps more in the obstacles to be lived, shifting our gaze - in the disappointments, wich lead us to seek a less outward joy.

Thus, according to the Lord’s desire, the good guide of the Christian community will become a servant of the lost, will not appropriate the goods of the Church, will also become vigilant in favour of others.

It is essential that the first of the class do not let themselves be carried away by the adolescent desire to self-support and affirm themselves, with greedy for privileges and hoarding of relevant tasks.

Fidelity is an attitude required especially of those who in assemblies have a particular and precise mission of guidance: forbidden to abuse it!

The only desire from which they must feel caught up is to hasten the hour of Communion and introduce a regenerative energy, also in the roles.

But Peter is conditioned by the false traditional teaching, totally antithetical, and he cannot conceive it.

According to the Master, however, leaders of communities are not exclusive privileged or the elected, but those who are asked to do more and better.

Free people.

The only plausible objective of the particular path in the power of the Risen One is of a maternal and universal character: «to give birth to a new world, where all of us are brothers and sisters» [FT n.278].

[Wednesday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 21, 2026]

(Lk 12:39-48)

«You also be ready, for in the hour you do not believe the Son of Man is coming» (Lk 12:40).

Jesus pulls the ears of those in the House, not out of self-denial: it is neither love nor freedom not to be able to understand in which direction to go, not to have a goal that conveys meaning to our pilgrimage in search.

Already in the communities of the early centuries the idea of the end of the world and the immediate subsequent 'return' of the Risen One to set things right - like any Messiah - was alive.

So some were no longer committed. Others remained with their noses in the air, scanning the heavens.

But the Coming of Christ is always imminent, and the Judgement on the things of the world has already been pronounced on the Cross.

In his Spirit who makes all things new, and in his intimates, the Lord has never moved (elsewhere; or on high) [cf. Mt 28:20].

The final phase of history begins precisely from this seed of Faith not alienated, of Person not repressed, and of alternative society; but the history to be written is the task of the Church.

The new heaven and the new earth of the Divinising Presence is already palpitating. In this way, He is beside us as we strive for fulfilment and full life for all.

For this reason, in the epigraph to the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, here stands out the practical and eloquent figure of St Francis "who felt himself a brother to the sun, the sea and the wind, he knew that he was even more united to those who were of his own flesh. Everywhere he sowed peace and walked beside the poor, the abandoned, the sick, the discarded, the last" [n.2].

The Gospels and the recent Magisterium - no longer neutral - intone the de profundis to the peripheral, intimist and empty spirituality that has marked mass Catholicism in the West.

It is clear why in no passage of the Gospels is it written that Jesus 'will return': although not perceptible to the senses, he has never departed.

He enjoys a full Life, unconditioned by space-time coordinates.

He is 'the Coming One' [Greek text, passim]: he who comes without ceasing, and makes himself a companion on the journey - not only in exceptional figures such as the Saint of Assisi.

However, already in the 1880s the attention of impressionable people was (unfortunately) shifting to the Return instead of the providential Coming - the pivot of positive faith in life itself, which reveals the Face of the God-Con.

"Unceasing Coming": it is perception of his Friendship in things, even in the common, in the Call of the needy; in the Call of the insights, of the Word, and of the companions of our journey.

"Coming" is: in the goals that smile, but even and perhaps even more so in the stumbling blocks to be experienced - or circumvented, by shifting our gaze; in the disappointments, which guide us to seek a less outward joy.

It is the 'Advent' of Christ: the vocational instinct that activates us, the sense of vital fraternity, the sensitive friendship of all those who know how to understand, introduce and coordinate - as well as the predilection for quality relationships; the trust in the genius of time, even in everyday events.

In this way and according to the Lord's wish, the good leader of the Christian community will become a servant to the lost, will not appropriate the Church's goods, and will also become vigilant in favour of others.

It is imperative that those at the top of the class do not allow themselves to be carried away by the adolescent desire for self-assertion, with greed for privileges and hoarding of relevant tasks.

Loyalty is an attitude required especially of those who have a particular and precise task in the assemblies, that of leadership: do not abuse it!

The only eagerness they must feel is to hasten the hour of Communion and introduce a regenerative energy, even in their roles.

However, Peter is conditioned by the traditional false teaching, which is completely antithetical; and he cannot conceive it.

According to the Master, however, community leaders and leaders are not privileged or exclusively chosen, but those who are asked to do more and better - not for their benefit!

The world and the Church need fewer fake masters - rather, diligent and convinced servants, who attract by direct testimony. Not by prestige of titles and roles.

Free people.

The only plausible objective of the particular path in the power of the Risen One is of a maternal and universal nature: "to give birth to a new world, where we are all brothers" [FT n.278].

The Tao (LXVI) says: "The reason why rivers and seas can be sovereigns of a hundred valleys is that they keep well below them. So he who wants to be above the people with sayings sets himself below them, he who wants to be before the people with the person sets himself below them.

And Master Ho shang-Kung comments: "The world is not satisfied with the saint, because he does not contend with others for first or last place".To internalise and live the message:

To internalise and live the message:

Have you encountered servants or masters in your community?

Do the leaders help you to seek the leap, the authentic realisation, the inner joy?

The first characteristic which the Lord requires of his servant is fidelity. He has been entrusted with a great good that does not belong to him. The Church is not our Church but his Church, the Church of God. The servant must account for how he has managed the good that has been entrusted to him. We do not bind people to us; we do not seek power, prestige or esteem for ourselves. We lead men and women toward Jesus Christ, hence toward the living God. In so doing, we introduce them into truth and into freedom, which derives from truth. Fidelity is altruism and, in this very way, liberating for the minister himself and for all who are entrusted to him. We know how in civil society and often also in the Church things suffer because many people on whom responsibility has been conferred work for themselves rather than for the community, for the common good. With a few strokes the Lord sketches an image of the wicked servant, who begins by grovelling and beating the workers, thereby betraying the essence of his responsibility. In Greek, the word for "fidelity" coincides with the word for "faith". The fidelity of the servant of Jesus Christ also consists precisely in the fact that he does not attempt to adapt faith to the fashions of the times. Christ alone has the words of eternal life and we must bring these words to the people. They are the most precious good that has been entrusted to us. There is nothing sterile or static about such fidelity; it is creative. The master rebuked the servant who, attempting to avoid all risk, had buried the money given to him in the ground. With this apparent fidelity, the servant had in reality set aside the good of his master to dedicate himself exclusively to his own affairs. Fidelity is not fear but rather is inspired by love and by its dynamism. The master praises the servant who has invested his goods profitably. Faith demands to be passed on: it was not given to us merely for ourselves, for the personal salvation of our own souls, but for others, for this world and for our time. We must bring faith into this world so that it may become in it a living force; in order to increase God's presence in the world.

[Pope Benedict, homily for episcopal ordination 12 September 2009]

3. “… even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve” (Mt 20:28).

In truth, Jesus is the perfect model of the “servant” of whom Scripture speaks. He is the one who radically emptied himself to take on “the form of a servant” (Phil 2:7) and to dedicate himself totally to the things of the Father (cf. Lk 2:49), as the beloved Son in whom the Father is well pleased (cf. Mt 17:5). Jesus did not come to be served, “but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mt 20:28). He washed the feet of his disciples and obeyed the plan of the Father even unto death, death on a cross (cf. Phil 2:8). Therefore, the Father himself has exalted him, giving him a new name and making him Lord of heaven and of earth (cf. Phil 2:9-11).

How can one not read in the story of the “servant Jesus” the story of every vocation: the story that the Creator has planned for every human being, the story that inevitably passes through the call to serve and culminates in the discovery of the new name, designed by God for each individual? In these “names”, people can grasp their own identity, directing themselves to that self-fulfilment which makes them free and happy. In particular, how can one not read in the parable of the Son, Servant and Lord, the vocational story of the person who is called by Jesus to follow him more closely: that is, to be a servant in the priestly ministry or in religious consecration? In fact, the priestly vocation or the religious vocation are always, by their very nature, vocations to the generous service of God and of neighbour.

Service thus becomes both the path and the valuable means for arriving at a better understanding of one’s own vocation. Diakonia is a true vocational pastoral journey (cf. New Vocations for a New Europe, 27c).

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the XL World Day for Vocations, 11 May 2003]

In the text of today’s Gospel (Lk 12:32-48), Jesus speaks to his disciples about the attitude to assume in view of the final encounter with him, and explains that the expectation of this encounter should impel us to live a life full of good works. Among other things he says: “Sell your possessions, and give alms; provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys” (v. 33). It is a call to give importance to almsgiving as a work of mercy, not to place trust in ephemeral goods, to use things without attachment and selfishness, but according to God’s logic, the logic of attention to others, the logic of love. We can be so attached to money, and have many things, but in the end we cannot take them with us. Remember that “the shroud has no pockets”.

Jesus’ lesson continues with three short parables on the theme of vigilance. This is important: vigilance, being alert, being vigilant in life. The first is the parable of the servants waiting for their master to return at night. “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes” (v. 37): it is the beatitude of faithfully awaiting the Lord, of being ready, with an attitude of service. He presents himself each day, knocks at the door of our heart. Those who open it will be blessed, because they will have a great reward: indeed, the Lord will make himself a servant to his servants — it is a beautiful reward — in the great banquet of his Kingdom He himself will serve them. With this parable, set at night, Jesus proposes life as a vigil of diligent expectation, which heralds the bright day of eternity. To be able to enter one must be ready, awake and committed to serving others, from the comforting perspective that, “beyond”, it will no longer be we who serve God, but He himself who will welcome us to his table. If you think about it, this already happens today each time we meet the Lord in prayer, or in serving the poor, and above all in the Eucharist, where he prepares a banquet to nourish us of his Word and of his Body.

The second parable describes the unexpected arrival of the thief. This fact requires vigilance; indeed, Jesus exhorts: “You also must be ready; for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect” (v. 40).

The disciple is one who awaits the Lord and his Kingdom. The Gospel clarifies this perspective with the third parable: the steward of a house after the master’s departure. In the first scene, the steward faithfully carries out his tasks and receives compensation. In the second scene, the steward abuses his authority, and beats the servants, for which, upon the master’s unexpected return, he will be punished. This scene describes a situation that is also frequent in our time: so much daily injustice, violence and cruelty are born from the idea of behaving as masters of the lives of others. We have only one master who likes to be called not “master” but “Father”. We are all servants, sinners and children: He is the one Father.

Jesus reminds us today that the expectation of the eternal beatitude does not relieve us of the duty to render the world more just and more liveable. On the contrary, this very hope of ours of possessing the eternal Kingdom impels us to work to improve the conditions of earthly life, especially of our weakest brothers and sisters. May the Virgin Mary help us not to be people and communities dulled by the present, or worse, nostalgic for the past, but striving toward the future of God, toward the encounter with him, our life and our hope.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 7 August 2016]

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [18 October 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah 45:1–6

When Isaiah wrote this text, the Jews had been in exile in Babylon for almost fifty years. In 587 BC, Nebuchadnezzar’s armies had conquered Jerusalem, destroyed and plundered the Temple, and deported the survivors. Now, however, news is arriving of the conquests of Cyrus, King of Persia, the new ruler of the world. For the Jews, this news offers a glimmer of hope, for Cyrus is rapidly conquering the entire region. Cyrus stands out from other rulers because he adopts a more humanitarian policy: he does not kill the vanquished, nor does he destroy or plunder their cities, nor does he deport the populations. On the contrary, in the conquered territories he allows the exiles to return to their homeland, restores to them the property taken by previous conquerors, and even provides the means to rebuild the country. He probably realises that it is in an emperor’s interest to rule over happy peoples. In this context, Isaiah utters a prophecy that is above all a profession of faith and hope. He says: ‘Thus says the Lord to his anointed one, to Cyrus’. The message is probably not addressed directly to Cyrus—who would not have listened to a Jewish prophet—but to the exiled Jews, to restore their hope. This hope is based on two fundamental convictions. Firstly, God is faithful to his Covenant.

God has not abandoned his people: Israel remains his servant and his chosen people. Even though they have lost their freedom, their land, the Temple, their king and their political independence, God continues to be faithful to the Covenant with Jacob and Israel. This certainty is particularly important precisely at a time when the Jews might think that God has abandoned them. Secondly,

God is the Lord of history. God declares: ‘I am the Lord; there is no other.’ Even the mighty Cyrus is in his hands. The expressions relating to bestowing a title, taking by the hand and opening the gates recall the rites of the coronation of kings: the king received the title of Son of God, was anointed with oil and placed in God’s hands; the open gates also symbolised the conquest of enemy cities. Isaiah therefore applies to Cyrus imagery typical of the coronation of the kings of Israel, presenting him as a king chosen and consecrated by God, even though he is a pagan. This proves that it is always God who retains the initiative and control over events.

Responsorial Psalm (95/96) 

There is a thrill, indeed an exultation, running through these few verses. One senses the faith that stirs this people; indeed, even better, the hope that is the joy of faith. It is hope that enables us to affirm with certainty what we do not yet possess, as the Letter to the Hebrews states (1:1). If we pause to read the final verses, we realise that this psalm already transports us to the end of the world, to that blessed day when all peoples, without exception, will recognise God as the one and only God. Joy in heaven! Let the earth rejoice! Let the depths of the sea roar; let the whole countryside be in celebration. Let the trees of the forests dance for joy before the Lord, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with justice and the peoples according to his truth! Here, the blessed day we await is already being sung of. Let us imagine the scene: we are in Jerusalem; all peoples, nations and races are thronging around the Temple. The esplanade is teeming; the steps of the courtyard are black with people; crowds are pouring in from every corner of the world; the number of pilgrims stretches as far as the eye can see, and Jerusalem is not big enough to contain them all. Everyone is singing at the top of their voices, like a true symphony: ‘God reigns!’ It is an immense and colossal clamour, like the ovation given to every new king on the day of his coronation. This time, however, it is not the people of Israel acclaiming an earthly king; it is the whole of humanity acclaiming the King of the world: ‘Great is the Lord, highly praised, awesome’. And it is not just humanity; the earth itself trembles, and even the seas join in the symphony, whilst the countryside rejoices and the trees dance, for they recognise their Creator. Amidst so many idols and false gods, there is no room for error, and even the trees are not deceived. People, on the other hand, have long allowed themselves to be deceived, and it is incredible that it has taken them so long to recognise their Creator, their Father. This time, however, it has happened, and everyone is coming to Jerusalem to acclaim God because at last the good news resounds: ‘Day by day Israel has proclaimed its salvation… the ceaseless work of liberation… day by day Israel has borne witness that God first delivered it from Egypt, then from every kind of slavery; and the most terrible form of slavery is to place one’s trust in false values, false gods that can only disappoint.  Israel is immensely fortunate to know and to be charged with proclaiming that our God is the one and only God, as declared in the Shema Israel: ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God is one’ (Deut 6:4). This is the mystery of Israel’s vocation, as we read in Deuteronomy: ‘You have been granted to see all this, so that you may know that the Lord is God; there is no other’ (Deut 4:32). But the chosen people have never forgotten that if they have been granted to see, it is so that they may make it known; and whilst awaiting the fulfilment of this dream, Israel sings this psalm to renew its faith and hope.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Thessalonians (1:1–5)

This is the earliest Christian writing, even though we are accustomed to seeing the Gospels at the beginning of the New Testament, thus running the risk of forgetting that they were written after Paul’s letters. The First Letter to the Thessalonians dates back to just twenty years or so after the Resurrection of Christ, and so here we have the earliest statements of Christian preaching. It is the first time that an attempt has been made to set down in writing the mystery of Jesus Christ. It is around the year 50, and the Gospel has already been proclaimed far from Jerusalem, for Thessalonica is in Europe, in northern Greece, in the region known as Macedonia. Before reaching that far, Paul had already had time to establish communities throughout the south, the centre and even the west coast of Turkey. It is from the Acts of the Apostles that we know how events unfolded: Paul was on a mission on the west coast of Turkey when, one night, he had a vision of a Macedonian man imploring him: ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us’. And Luke, who was part of the journey, recounts: “Following this vision of Paul’s, we immediately set out for Macedonia, for we realised that God was calling us to bring the Good News there” (Acts 16:9–10). Paul, Luke and Silas arrived on the Greek coast in the city of Philippi, where they were initially well received, but were soon accused of disturbing the peace; they were beaten and thrown into prison. Thanks to a providential earthquake, they were set free and, having left the city, went on to Thessalonica. According to the Acts of the Apostles, Paul’s preaching was always the same: “For three Sabbaths he reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that the Christ had to suffer and rise from the dead, and he added: ‘This Jesus whom I am proclaiming to you is the Christ’”. The text adds: “Some of them (that is, the Jews he met in the synagogue) were persuaded and joined Paul and Silas, along with a large crowd of Greeks who worshipped God and a good number of prominent women” (Acts 17:2–4). But, as usual, Paul did not arouse only enthusiasm because, as we read in the Acts of the Apostles: “The Jews, driven by jealousy, gathered some troublemakers in the public square; having stirred up crowds, they were causing unrest in the city” (Acts 17:5), so much so that it seemed very prudent for Paul and Silas to leave the area. Paul therefore left this new community too hastily and remained somewhat troubled about it for a while. When he wrote this letter, which we begin to read today, he had just been reassured by Silas and Timothy, who had remained in Macedonia and were bringing him excellent news. This explains the particularly joyful tone at the beginning of the letter: “Paul, Silvanus (another name for Silas) and Timothy to the Church of the Thessalonians, which is in God the Father and in the Lord Jesus Christ. Grace and peace to you. At all times we give thanks to God for all of you.” Right from this first sentence, one is struck by the solemnity of the greeting: this community is very small, and he grandly calls it “the Church of Thessalonica which is in God the Father and in the Lord Jesus Christ”. This immense respect that Paul has for Christian communities, even modest ones, is characteristic of all his letters. 

From the Gospel according to Saint Matthew (22:15–21)

‘Is it lawful to pay the tribute to the emperor?’ Jesus replies by calling the questioners ‘hypocrites’! Why ‘hypocrites’? Because this is not a genuine question, and they are hypocrites for two reasons: first of all, because they have long since resolved this issue. Paying the tax to the Emperor – ‘Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s’ – is something they do, and Jesus does not say they are wrong. Now they are setting a trap and trying to catch Jesus out… And the falsely respectful tone that precedes the question further emphasises this: ‘Teacher, we know that you are always truthful and teach the way of God in accordance with the truth’. All this politeness is nothing more than a preamble to a trick question designed to put Jesus in a difficult position. If Jesus urges his compatriots to refuse to pay the tax levied for the benefit of the Roman occupiers, it will be easy to denounce him to the authorities as a resistance fighter or even a revolutionary, and he will be condemned. If, on the other hand, he advises paying the tax, he could be discredited in the eyes of the people as a collaborator, losing any chance of being recognised as the Messiah; for the expected Messiah must be an independent and sovereign king on the throne of Jerusalem, which necessarily involves a revolt against the Roman occupiers. The trap is well laid, and in any case, whatever his answer, Jesus is doomed. In fact, they are seeking the first suitable opportunity to put him to death, for the Passion is already looming on the horizon, given that we are in the very final moments in Jerusalem. In his reply, Jesus clearly shows that he has understood: ‘Hypocrites! Why are you trying to test me?’ He is not naive in the face of the trap being set for him… Yet he does not seek to embarrass his interlocutors, for Jesus never did so and never sought to set a trap for anyone: this would be unworthy of the God whose light shines upon both the good and the wicked.

Jesus therefore does not respond to the trap with another trap, but takes the question seriously and answers it properly, setting out his argument in three points: ‘Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s… and give to God what is God’s. Firstly, ‘Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s’, including by paying tax. By this he invites us to recognise that Caesar is the holder of power, and this has nothing to do with servile collaboration; on the contrary, it is accepting a de facto situation and, furthermore, from the Old Testament perspective, it was considered that all power comes from God. Jesus himself, during his Passion, will say to Pilate: ‘You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above’ (Jn 19:11). Moreover, Isaiah also recalled this in the first reading when speaking of King Cyrus: God can turn every human kingship to the good of his people. The Pharisees know the passage from Isaiah about Cyrus better than we do; they therefore know that all power, even pagan power, is in God’s hands. Let us note, however, in passing that the Caesar of the time was actually called ‘Tiberius’ and that the name ‘Caesar’ had become a title of the Roman emperor. Secondly, ‘Render unto Caesar only what is Caesar’s’: when Caesar – that is, the Roman emperor – demands tax, he is within his rights, but when he demands to be called ‘Lord’ and to be worshipped, he exposes you to idolatry, and here there must be no compromise. At the time when Matthew was writing his Gospel, this scenario was a reality. Many martyrs paid with their lives for this refusal to worship the Roman emperor. The invitation is therefore important: ‘Render unto God what is God’s’. That is the real issue: are you sure you are rendering unto God what is God’s? Why do you not recognise in Jesus the one who ‘is of God’? Without wishing to derive a theory of political power from this text – which Jesus certainly did not intend to do here – we can nevertheless draw from this Gospel passage, once again, a surprising lesson in freedom. Caesar is but Caesar, and the kings of the earth are but petty kings whose kingship is fleeting, whilst the kingdom of God is of an entirely different order: it is within the very heart of the kingdoms of the earth that every act of love and brotherhood causes the one true kingdom—the Kingdom of God—to grow.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Lamps lit, start now

(Lk 12:35-38)

In order to make it clear what it means to be prepared to leave immediately, Jesus urges our readiness to notice, our ability to perceive.

He does not extinguish the aptitude for unprecedented judgement, and gains amazement.

Because the roles are suddenly reversed - so one has to be open to trust: the seemingly small becomes suddenly “big”.

Old religion drags the problems, and makes one sick, inculcating the spirit of submission and toil, for wages. And the slave remains a slave.

Servant and master are conversely in a reciprocal relationship and incessantly reverse roles.

As Lk says, the Lord himself “will gird himself and make them lie [the position of the lords of the time at solemn banquets] and pass by serving them” as if he were a “deacon” (v.37 Greek text).

This activates a total vigilance, ready to move the whole person, the territories (Fratelli Tutti, n.1: «beyond the place of the world»), the hierarchies.

He who felt “employee” becomes “manager” and protagonist: he acquires an attitude to fullness.

In the Kingdom of God, forms of life change.

In religions without the step of Faith - vice versa - nomenclatures consolidate.

In the Church there is no hoarding up, because our hearts do not live on worldliness and competition: goods are transformed into relationships and possibilities for encounter.

Christ has shown the Way to true enrichment. Thus he has transformed us into perhaps restless, but brisk beings.

We cannot even rest quietly: we have a step that flies by.

Indeed, it seems very strange that this Master does not arrive at the appointed time. Instead, Christ wants to be reinterpreted.

This condition is a source of growth for us: it accentuates our vigilance over events, the folds of history; over the meaning of encounters, the motions of the soul; and so on.

Thus, life in the Spirit challenges and enriches the exuberant side of the personality, accentuating the most singular opportunities for the unprecedented.

The «butler» placed at the service of the House of God and the brethren has the role of helping dynamic discernment, and the task of supporting it.

His service on behalf of others will be all-rounded, so that each one may correspond to the Call and proceed on his or her own feet.

'Blessed' then shall we be (v.38) without condition, but with the belt at our sides, that is, with the attitude of one who leaves a land of bondage.

«This was well known to the primitive Christian community, which considered itself "alien" here below and called its populated nucleuses in the cities "parishes", which means, precisely, colonies of foreigners [in Greek, pároikoi] (cf. I Pt 2: 11). In this way, the first Christians expressed the most important characteristic of the Church, which is precisely the tension of living in this life in light of Heaven» [Pope Benedict, Angelus August 12, 2007]

[Tuesday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 20, 2026]