Luke 13:22-30 (18-30)

Modest beginnings, a Prodigy that does not stun

From within and in daily things

(Luke 13:18-21)

The two parables were told at a time of doubt about the Master's proposal and the mission of his followers. Could a small group of faithful people with no social connections say anything to the world?

Despite their commitment, women and men are tormented by all their old problems, feeling the weight of suffering and anguish: at first glance, everything seems the same as before, disconnected, chaotic, fragmented.

What meaning does the small hope of a few believers without any visible wealth have for the cultural and civic concert - now global - of today?

It seems that nothing changes in the reality of the cosmos... but the grain has been sown in the furrow of the earth. It seems that the human dough is the same as always, but a leaven is renewing it from within.

Jesus was like a seed planted in darkness, nothing sensational. He was thrown into the garden (v. 19 Greek text), where no spectacular crops are grown, but simple potatoes, lettuce, aubergines, cucumbers, tomatoes - normal things, nothing special.

However, the mustard seed has an incredible and intrinsic evolutionary power.

Of course, the moment of growth ends with a very simple little tree - a shrub like many others, exposed to the elements... yet capable of giving rest and shelter to anyone who passes by (v. 19).

This brings about the final miracle: 'a form of life with the flavour of the Gospel [...] that goes beyond the barriers of geography and space. Here [St. Francis] declares blessed those who love others as if they were close to them, even when they are far away'.

Although taken from expressions in the First Testament, in the passages described by Luke, the Gospel image of the birds of the sky illustrates 'the essence of an open fraternity, which allows us to recognise, appreciate and love every person beyond physical proximity, beyond the place in the world where they were born or where they live' (cf. encyclical Fratelli Tutti, n. 1). 

The experience of the Saint of Assisi, with his "heart without boundaries, capable of going beyond distances," introduces us to a logic of dialogue that avoids "every form of aggression or contention and even of living a humble and fraternal submission" - without ever imposing a "dialectical war" or "doctrines" (FT, 3-4).

So it is enough to put a pinch of yeast in the dough to make it rise completely.

The yeast does not stand out, it is hidden: it disappears inside. And at that time everything was kept in a simple household cupboard.

As we deepen our life in the Spirit, we repeatedly realise that we have only seen part of it: there is still much (more) to discover, although we sense that it is within reach - in relation to the development of ordinary life.

Despite the megalomaniacs, the dimensions of the Kingdom of God, of the universe of the soul and of the Mission are not something that can be verified immediately and completely.

We must enter into a process that is personal and completely hidden - and therefore authentically spontaneous, convinced and open.

In fact, even 'when the work is done, to withdraw is the Way of Heaven' (Tao Tê Ching, ix).

On the horizon of every journey there is always a new plant, another genesis, a different flowering in the seasons; an unprecedented effervescence to be introduced into the ancient order already capitalised.

This splendour (and hidden vitality of the intuitive and missionary soul) does not belong to collective cultural rituals or peripheral duties.

Artificial passes make us prisoners of conditioning that dull our perception and dampen the mission for which we were born.

Indeed, leaving the herd that gives birth to the usual pale (and drug-addicted) interpretative models will be an opportunity to discover something new.

We will be amazed at our own intimate propulsive capacities - accompanied only by the Friend who sees in secret.

Seed and ferment work unbeknownst to us. Lack of spotlight, poverty, smallness... these are not obstacles to growth, but rather the conditions for it.

What seems like nothing becomes what Creation awaits: it is barely visible or not visible at all - but by giving it time, without forcing or rushing, it achieves evolution (cordial and domestic) that is not out of tune with God and the least among us.

The Church that is to come will not be intrusive: it will not demand adherence (under penalty of exclusion).

For this reason, the dynamism of growth will have an extraordinary outcome, but only from a human point of view and in terms of hospitality (v. 19), not in terms of grandiose splendour.

Devoid of sensational, striking and refined magnificence, the new divine Bride will be recognised in her attitude of fullness, because she will correspond to the plan of complete life that dwells in our hearts and which we mysteriously intuit as our own. We will understand: she will make everyone feel good.

The insecure will become decisive, the loser will be transformed by Grace into the wise. We will understand that welcoming the Word and responding to our personal vocation will not be terrifying, but regenerating.

Those who do not get caught up in themselves but shift their thoughts, stake everything, will bring out their essence.

We will understand that our being is already calibrated to innate, subtle, personally and socially corresponding patterns.

In the Spirit and in real life, we will discover the qualitative and special Magnificence that the most conformist and hasty, least dialogical or capable of listening, cannot even remotely imagine can excel.

To internalise and live the message:

What sensational cunning has attempted to destroy your land?

What conformism (even group conformism) has made you pale?

What subdued and measured Word spoken to you did not cause turmoil but regenerated your passion and expanded your life?

First, last. The recovery of opposites

Narrow Gate: not because it is oppressive

(Lk 13:22-30)

The meaning of the first question is: 'Is salvation exclusive?' (v. 23). Of course not - nor is it oppressive.

But it is not enough to declare oneself a 'friend' [here and there a mere proclamation, which has become a licence to lead a double life].

Half a century after Jesus' crucifixion, the first signs of relaxation, affectation and confusion began to appear in the communities.

In fact, it is precisely those who are distant, new and rejected by the veterans who show themselves to be believers who recognise the Lord more than the community's regulars (v. 25).

Some of them are now inauthentic practitioners of his Table and Word (v. 26).

How is it that Luke's indulgent Son ends up slamming the door in the face of his old devotees?

Because they have become fake mannerists, actors like those of the old religion, manipulators of the image of God of the Exodus.

They are now incapable [v. 24 Greek text] of orienting themselves according to the Father's plan, and despotic, only because they are clothed in long ritual practices. These are external stylistic features, fulfilled out of custom and to the detriment of a full life - that is, a life made available to one's brothers and sisters.

The privileged are already outside the House [vv. 25ff].

Their story warns against the illusion of feeling 'chosen' and being on the right path.

In short, we must avoid posing as (Christological) phenomena out of routine - cheaply - instead of serving humanisation.

An opportunity to understand whether we are truly on the right path is the constant review of our relationship with the 'inadequate' Person - Christ (the 'narrow gate': v. 24).

According to the Master, we do not become 'better' by following ostentatious, half-hearted and routine clichés.

Is there therefore a critical point in his clemency? What kind of inflexibility is this? Why is the distinction made within his circle?

Those who do many things for God (v. 26) and not for their brothers and sisters – or do not even notice that they exist – do not really honour the Father.

Those who do not 'deflate' themselves not only lack the humility to become servants, but they do not even pass through the cracks in the stone walls (or rubber walls, more diplomatic) in which the Spirit is wedged.

However, we still wonder with surprise how the Father can neglect his own who have believed so much in him, and even favour those who are far away, coming from who knows where.

Perhaps they loved as He did.

They spontaneously brought about that change of course and destiny that the Church as an institution [reflection of the Kingdom] has always been called to embody.

And how did they manage to find a way through?

They did not have a 'correct' relationship with God - probably - but they did have a right relationship with others.

It is in their hearts that they have come to know the Lord. Personally - even those who have never heard of Him directly. 

And by migrating, they have accomplished their Exodus.

Going straight to the goal, they have focused on the fruit: listening, compassion, generous sharing of goods - instead of the many leaves (of banners, rituals and formulas).

With the eyes of the soul, in these people completely devoid of spiritual arrogance, the perception of inner orientations won out over the thoughts and idols of custom within reach.

They are those who never considered themselves too great.

Not feeling excellent and not having pretensions is and will be valued much more than correct observance and the exact banner.

These are futile characteristics, even (!) - which the new Rabbi attributes precisely to the regulars who seem to have what it takes.

He calls them 'doers of vain things, doers of dead things' [Lk 13:27; the Greek text has a Semitic background of the kind found in Ps 6:9, Hebrew text].

He is referring to the lukewarm who go along out of inertia and still today participate in outward manifestations with extreme superficiality.

They form a body, but personally they set nothing in motion.

The Lord does not want to humiliate us, but to invite us to rethink the reasons and ways in which we follow him.

Receiving his Bread means accepting to become food for the life of the world.

Welcoming his Word is a gesture that denotes an ardent desire to live it, not a habit, nor a way to be appreciated and to slalom.

Yet Christ is forced to say, 'I do not know where you are from' (vv. 25-27).

Meanwhile, some who have never even known the Lord have mysteriously passed through the 'narrow gate' that is Jesus himself, without realising it.

They are free from the hypocrisy of considering themselves great apostles, or those who know how to live in the world.

Their secret is that of a convinced experience and a fraternal practice that has dispelled the spiritual deception of (theatrical) parentheses in society.

They did not participate in (sacred) catwalks only to spend their lives pointing fingers, mortifying and crippling the existence of everyone, especially the infirm.

They are people who have dedicated themselves to the good - and therefore have not drowned in the stale anguish of devout and moralistic local cultures. Perhaps they are stuck there for fear of contamination.

They are souls who have not lived under a cloak of morbid obsessions, typical of those who fixate on the behaviour of others [and cultivate it within themselves in an unexpressed way].

True disciples participate in the Banquet because they have not fled the world, they have struggled (v. 24) to make themselves capable of love.

They have compromised themselves with the vile limitations of their own and their brothers' existential peripheries.

They have dedicated their lives to social inclusion and the acceptance of feelings, to recognising everyone's legitimate desire for life.

They have uprooted themselves from the idea that religious belonging grants a licence of immunity (or even sacralisation) to lukewarmness.

With all their imperfections, they have desired Happiness, not the banal cheerfulness that covers the nothingness of choices.

They are already complete persons, who have also filled our existence, and for this reason they have 'entered' into the light of God.

They have had respect for their infallible Core and for the nature of the things of the world, which they call Communion.

If they were women and men of prayer, they listened to the voice of their own essence.

They knew how to welcome any initial state of mind (and intuition) as a guest of honour. They realised.

They perceived and expressed, not just thought and stifled.

And digging deeper, they asked themselves: what does this joy or sadness mean for me? Why do I feel calm or anxious?

In this way, they learned to encounter themselves in everything and to accompany the eccentricities of others, recovering their opposites (v. 30).

They were angels who remained in tune with the Mystery of God that lurks in the folds of personal history and the events of others, day by day, in the genius of the times.

They grasped God's secret because they did not overlook anything as if it were a deception, nor did they silence their anxieties.

The Lord's teaching transformed their existence: knowledge of God became compassion and empathy.

Thus, they did not mistake indifference for peace, opportunism for tranquillity, or the failure of the 'mixed races' for tranquillity.

They were not so presumptuous as to consider themselves entitled. They did not call the subordination of the least and the excluded victory.

'Narrow gate': not because it is oppressive.