30th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [25 October 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Exodus 22:20–26 

This text forms part of the Book of the Covenant, that is, the law which God gave at Sinai immediately after the Ten Commandments. It is not an isolated civil law, but the practical consequence of the Covenant that has just been made. Israel has come out of Egypt, has experienced slavery and liberation, and now God says to them: your freedom must become justice for the most vulnerable.

Four groups are protected in this text: the stranger, the widow and the orphan, and the poor person seeking a loan. Three different groups, yet united by a single principle: those without protection must find divine protection in Israel. For the stranger, the historical memory applies: ‘You were strangers in the land of Egypt.’ Those who have known what it is like to live without rights cannot allow others to remain without rights, and God reminds Israel of its own history to prevent it from becoming an oppressor. For the widow and the orphan, the rationale is even stronger. In ancient patriarchal society, without a husband and without adult sons, these people were vulnerable to the confiscation of their property, to exploitation and to starvation. This is why the law states: ‘If you afflict them, when they cry out to me, I will hear their cry and my anger will be kindled.’ The verb ‘to hear’ is central. The cry of the poor, zaaq in Hebrew, is the prayer that God cannot ignore. God takes the side of the wronged. Not afflicting the widow and the orphan is not merely a social duty; it is an act of fidelity to God himself. For the poor debtor, the law intervenes on two fronts. It commands that usury must not be practised: do not impose interest on those who are already poor; in other words, do not turn another’s need into profit. And return the pledge before sunset. In the ancient world, a cloak was the poor person’s only possession – a blanket at night and a garment by day – so taking it as a pledge meant leaving the person unprotected. The law commands that it be returned because human dignity is worth more than financial security. The conclusion, then, is the key to it all: when the poor cry out, I will hear them, for I am merciful; and God calls for social justice because, if He is merciful, so too must His people be. Here, then, is the text’s deepest message: God does not present Himself as a cold lawgiver or a distant judge, but as the One who listens and is moved. True liturgy and true worship are not the sacrifice offered on the altar if the heart remains indifferent to the cry of the weak. God’s holiness is not power; it is active compassion, and human holiness consists in imitating this compassion of His.

This message is of burning relevance today. Today’s strangers are migrants, refugees and undocumented people, but also the new neighbour, the one who is different in culture or faith. Many of our families were once migrants themselves and know what it means to be welcomed or rejected. The memory of our own past as strangers must challenge us: are our homes, our parishes, our country a welcoming inn or a fortress that turns people away? Our widows and orphans are the single mothers, the abandoned elderly, the children without a future, the victims of violence, and the young people without work. When a system crushes them with bureaucracy, unaffordable rents and precarious living conditions, God hears their cry. We cannot claim to love God whilst remaining indifferent. Our poor debtors are the families strangled by mortgages, by easy loans, by three-figure interest rates, by gambling. The biblical principle stands: no debt can take away dignity. Even today, one cannot take a man’s cloak – that is, his last possession – as security. The economy must always retain a human face. This is why Exodus 22:20–26 is not merely an ancient text; it is a call to translate faith into concrete actions. To welcome the stranger, to visit those who are alone, to lend without exploiting, to return what is needed to live. Then the cry of the poor will no longer be an accusation against us, but will become an opportunity to respond to the cry of God, who invites us to be merciful as he is merciful.

 Responsorial Psalm (17/18)

The title of the psalm attributes it to David, the Lord’s servant, who addressed the words of this song to the Lord when he was delivered from the hand of all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. It is a true hymn of thanksgiving, not a private prayer, but a liturgical song following a victory. We are probably at the Feast of the Covenant or the commemoration of a deliverance, and the king speaks in the first person, yet he represents the people. Here, only a few of the 51 verses of the psalm are quoted; it opens with a profession of faith: ‘I love you, O Lord, my strength, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer.’ Seven divine titles, like a crown. God is not described in the abstract, but in relation to concrete salvation. The Psalm goes on to recount the danger and the answered prayer. The king is grappling with the waters of death, the snares of Sheol, the torrents of Belial. It is the experience of mortal anguish, but the prayer from the temple is heard: ‘From his temple he heard my voice.’ Then comes the theophany, which forms the heart of the Psalm. God intervenes as a cosmic warrior. The earth trembles, the mountains smoke, the heavens draw near; God rides upon a cherub, hurling lightning and hail. The language is drawn from Sinai and from the myth of the warrior God who battles the sea and chaos. This is not a scientific description, but poetic language to convey that when God acts, the entire universe participates in the salvation of his chosen one. The king’s justice and victory follow. After the storm, God reaches out his hand and delivers from the deep waters and from powerful enemies. The rationale is central: ‘The Lord has rewarded me according to my righteousness.’ This is not presumption: David presents himself as one who observes the Law, a man of integrity. The Psalm echoes the theology of retribution: to those who are faithful, God is faithful; to those who are good, you are good; to the upright, you are upright. The Psalm concludes with a universal perspective: the delivered king sings not only for Israel, but proclaims God’s name amongst the nations.

For the believer today, this Psalm teaches us to pray in times of trial by invoking God’s names, to recognise that deliverance comes from him, and to live consistently, for faithfulness attracts faithfulness. The theophany reminds us that our personal history is part of a cosmic plan: God does not save on a small scale; he saves in such a way as to make the waters of chaos tremble, like a victorious warrior.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Thessalonians (1:5c–10)

Paul expresses his gratitude to the community in Thessalonica, which received the Gospel with genuine faith, despite difficulties and persecution. He recognises in the Thessalonians the tangible fruits of God’s work: their lives have been transformed by the Word and their witness has become an example to other believers. It was a newly formed community, born in difficult circumstances, yet it had managed to take root in the faith. Paul thus shows that the strength of the Church does not depend on the absence of problems, but on the ability to receive and live out the Gospel in the power of the Holy Spirit. First of all, Paul recalls that the Thessalonians received the Word ‘with the joy of the Holy Spirit’, even in the midst of tribulations. Their faith did not remain a mere theoretical commitment, but became an experience capable of facing difficulties. Christian joy, in fact, does not consist in the absence of suffering, but in the certainty of God’s presence even in the most difficult moments. And in this way, the Thessalonians became a model for the believers in Macedonia and Achaia. Their faith spread beyond the boundaries of the community, as a living proclamation of the Gospel. Paul emphasises that Christian witness is expressed not only through words, but above all through a life transformed by the encounter with Christ; and proof that the Thessalonians had been converted lies in their turning away from idols to serve the living and true God and to await his Son, Jesus, risen from the dead. This is a radical change: it is not merely a change in the way one thinks, but a shift in the very centre of one’s existence. Christian faith always involves a concrete choice: to leave behind what distances us from God, to live in his service, and to keep our gaze fixed on Christ, our hope.

St Paul invites us to reflect on the quality of our faith. To embrace the Gospel means allowing the Word to transform our daily choices, our relationships and the way we face life’s trials; and the joy of the Holy Spirit reminds us that even in suffering we can find strength and hope. Furthermore, like the Thessalonians, we are called to become credible witnesses to Christ, not so much through grand speeches as through concrete acts of love, service and solidarity. Finally, turning away from idols is more necessary than ever in our own time, for even today we can place the idols of consumer culture at the centre of our lives: success, money, power or the pursuit of approval. Conversion means recognising that only God can give fulfilment to our existence and living in confident anticipation of Jesus’ return. In conclusion, we can say that here Saint Paul presents a journey of faith that leads from listening to the Word to conversion, from conversion to witness, and from witness to hope. The Christian community thus becomes a tangible sign of God’s presence in the world, capable of proclaiming through its very life that Christ is risen and that salvation is found in him.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (22:34–40)

The greatest commandment. We are in Jerusalem, in the final days of Jesus’ life. Following the exchange with the Sadducees on the resurrection, the Pharisees gather in council, not to seek the truth, but to trap him. They send a teacher of the Law – an expert in the 613 precepts of the Law – with a trick question: which is the greatest commandment? For the rabbis, this is a classic debate between different rabbinic schools. Many rabbis of the school of Shammai maintained that the Sabbath was the greatest commandment; others, that it was circumcision; and still others, that it was the study of the Torah. Jesus responds succinctly, yet with startling depth. He does not cite any of the 613 commandments found in the Babylonian Talmud, Makkot 23b, and in the subsequent rabbinic tradition (248 positive commandments corresponding to the limbs or parts of the human body and 365 negative commandments corresponding to the days of the year), but draws upon two fundamental texts for Israel: the Shema: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your strength’, found in Deuteronomy (cf. 6:5) and which every Jew recited morning and evening because, ultimately, it is the fundamental act of faith. The second text is found in the Book of Leviticus: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ (cf. 19:18). Jesus does something unprecedented: he places the two texts on an equal footing and says that the second is like the first, using the Greek term homoios, meaning equal in nature, not merely similar in importance. And he concludes: ‘On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.’ The image that emerges is that of a building: the entire Torah hangs on these two nails, and if you remove these two nails, the whole structure collapses. Jesus, therefore, does not abolish the 613 precepts, but points out the centre that sustains them. The Law is not, therefore, a burden of rules; it is the concrete expression of a twofold love, and Jesus reveals to us that God does not want mere religiosity; He asks for love – total love. To love God with all one’s heart, with all one’s soul, with all one’s mind means not reserving just a corner of one’s life for God, but the centre and the entirety of one’s life; for the heart is the will, the soul is life itself, and the mind is thought. It is not enough to say one believes; one must love through one’s choices, through one’s very breath, through one’s reason… To love one’s neighbour as oneself is the revolution. It does not say to love one’s neighbour more than oneself; it says ‘as oneself’, that is, with the same natural care with which we look after ourselves, nourish ourselves and seek what is good. One’s neighbour, therefore, is not a stranger; they are another version of oneself. And who is one’s neighbour? In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus explains that we are called to be a neighbour to anyone we meet on our path, even to the enemy and the stranger. Loving God and loving one’s neighbour point to two inseparable forms of love, for one cannot claim to love God whilst hating one’s brother; nor can one truly love one’s brother without loving God, because it is only in God that we find the strength to love those who do not love us. These two pillars are like the wings of a bird: without a wing, no bird can fly. But how do we live out this new commandment today? On closer inspection, in our world we are witnessing a reversal of this hierarchy of values, for we place ourselves at the centre whilst God and our neighbour become mere options. We betray our first love every time our heart is divided amongst a thousand idols: work, success, money, image, power. We love God with our lips, but our minds and hearts are elsewhere. Jesus asks us today: have you given God first place, or just the leftovers of your time? It is easy to betray our love for our neighbour in this paradoxical age of connection and loneliness. We know everything about everyone on social media, yet we do not know our next-door neighbour, and perhaps not even those living under our own roof. Our neighbour sometimes becomes a nuisance, a rival, someone to be judged. Jesus reminds us that the measure of love is not a feeling, but a concrete act. Loving our neighbour as ourselves means treating others as you would wish to be treated when you are sick, poor, lonely or a stranger. The challenge, therefore, is a practical one. Love for God is measured by love for one’s neighbour, and love for one’s neighbour is rooted in the love of God. We cannot separate them, and when we truly love, the whole Law and the Prophets are fulfilled.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Conversion and Times

(Lk 13:1-9)

Conversion refers to a process that shakes the soul, due to an Encounter. A ‘meeting’ that opens to the knowledge of ourselves.

A dialogue that projects minds and actions onto reality and the Mystery, which ceaselessly refer to a new Exodus.

Even today, the swampy counterpart of the life of Faith wedges itself like a constant woodworm, and is symbolized by an arid confrontation, expressed in the absence of fruit on an unnecessarily leafy tree.

The ‘vineyard’ is an icon of the chosen people and the ‘fig tree’ of its central prosperity. Here evokes the Temple, in particular its liturgical nucleus: the Sanctuary.

The cult that took place in the sacred of ​​the vast area of ​​Mount Zion had to express the praise of a people who were constantly listening, called to a life of sharing and fraternity.

The delicious fruits that the Lord was waiting for should have been sweet and tender (like figs), but they were hard and inedible. The Call had been dropped on deaf ears.

The many and showy "leaves" of the most devout rite did not celebrate a life of welcome and understanding, rather tended to hide the bitter berries of a style in no way conforming to the divine plan.

We ask ourselves: how much time do we have available to amend and not regress, living fully the present?

Is the Father's governmental action punitive or only responsible and life-giving?

In the parable of the sterile fig tree we learn: the only condition that can change a history of infertility and squalor - as well as the danger of formalism - is the time still needed to assimilate the Word.

Forward process, linked to the unpredictable way in which the vital call of the Seed and the particular reaching out of its roots intertwine with the earth of the soul, then overflowing in relation to the events.

Appeal that never ceases, in the reverb of which is elaborated and strengthened the change of mentality that introduces into conviviality and into the plan of liberation for an alternative world: the Kingdom of God.

After the three years of the Son's public life, there is a ‘fourth year’ that extends to the history of the Church (vv. 7-9).

It does not want to conceal the luxuriance of life but to make it blossom, and without ceasing recalls a flourishing growth; for a feeling of Family with sweetest fruit, which is not satisfied with external practices.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, the Lord still dreams of a «plan that would set great goals for the development of our entire human family» (n.16).

For this purpose «we need to think of ourselves more and more as a single family dwelling in a common home. Such care does not interest those economic powers that demand quick profits» (n.17).

The hasty logic - as well as the epidermal rush of the society of events - creates inequalities, not only in the commercial field.

In short, everything becomes an opportunity for the Eternal flowering and action ground, history that is truly ours: teaching of authentic theology and humanization - if the people story unfolds ‘on the way’.

The God of religion has his own claims and does not appear long-suffering. The Father of Jesus knows how to wait. He does not get angry, he does not give in to the frenzy of blow for blow. He is not disinterested, but not complain; nor take revenge.

He proposes solutions.

In doing so He will not cause irreparable trouble - indeed will astound us. For a new Spring, in which the fig tree gives its unrepeatable sugary, juicy and highly energetic Fruit - before the many leaves.

So that ‘fraternity’ does not «remain just another vague ideal» (n.109).

[Saturday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 24, 2026]

Conversion and Times

(Luke 13:1-9)

Conversion refers to a process that shakes the soul, because of an Encounter. A rediscovery that opens to self-knowledge.

A dialogue that projects mind and actions onto reality and Mystery, which incessantly refer back to a new Exodus.

Even today, the swampy counterpart to the life of Faith wedges in like a constant woodworm, and is symbolized by a barren confrontation, expressed in the absence of fruit above an unnecessarily leafy tree.

The vineyard is iconic of the Chosen People and the fig tree of its central prosperity. Here it evokes the Temple, particularly its liturgical core: the Sanctuary.

According to religious prejudices - of class, purity conditions, ministry, progressive skimming - within strictly demarcated perimeters homage was paid to the God of Israel.

The worship that took place in the sacred zone of the vast Mount Zion area was to express the praise of a people in constant listening, called to a life of sharing and fraternity.

The delicious fruits that the Lord awaited should have been sweet and tender (like figs); conversely, they turned out to be hard and inedible. His Appeal had been let fall on deaf ears.

The many and conspicuous "leaves" of the devout rite did not celebrate a life of acceptance and understanding, but tended precisely to hide the bitter berries of a style in nothing in accordance with the divine plan.

We ask ourselves: how much time do we have to amend and not regress, living fully in the present? Is the Father's governing action punitive or only responsible and life-giving?

In the parable of the barren fig tree we learn: the only condition that can change a history of infertility and squalor - as well as the danger of formalism - is the time still needed to assimilate the Word.

Forward process, linked to the unpredictable manner in which the vital Call of the Seed and the particular outreach of its roots intertwines with the soil of the soul, then overflows in relation to happenings.

Call that does not cease; in whose reverberation is elaborated and strengthened the change of mentality that ushers in the mutual hospitable of convivialities and the design of liberation for an alternative world: the Kingdom of God.

Now in the hands of a useless and corrupt caste that had allowed the vital relationship to be extinguished, the threads of the ignored design of Salvation and Justice (in the sense first and foremost of authentic God-man positions and just relationships) are reknotted by the intensity of Father-Son relationship.

After the three years of public life, there is a "fourth year" that extends to the history of the Church (vv.7-9).

It is not meant to conceal the luxuriance of life but to make it blossom, and without ceasing it calls forth a flourishing growth; for a feeling of Family with the sweetest fruit, which is not satisfied with outward practices.

In order to overcome conditionings, suspicions, blockages, failures, there is a need for breath: it involves treading a long path of exploration.

There are no shortcuts, no useful U-conversions according to the code of official authorities, perpetually committed to mitigating and homologating charismatic peaks.

Indeed, Jesus had invited the crowds to have independent thinking and judgment (Luke 12:57: "Now why do you not judge for yourselves also what is right?").

Woe betide to be subjugated, accepting omertà out of calculation or fear. Our dignity and the missionary wealth to which God calls are at stake.

This is why the authorities considered Jesus to be like a Galilean: subversive and rebellious.

He suffers another intimidation by proxies of religious leaders (Lk 13:1). We seem to be witnessing a scene of prevarication with which we may be familiar.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, the Lord still dreams of a project "with great goals, for the development of all humanity (No. 16)."

For this purpose "we need to constitute ourselves into a 'we' that inhabits the Common House. Such care does not interest the economic powers that need quick revenues" (n.17).

The rushed logic - as well as the epidermic haste of the society of events - creates inequalities, not only in the mercantile field.

In short, everything becomes opportunity for flourishing and ground for action of the Eternal, history truly ours: magisterium of authentic theology and humanization-if the story of the people unfolds on the way.

In the processes that trigger a history of redemption according to Gospel logic, the memory of the past does not alienate but interpellates: it does not trivially provide inert indefectible criteria for judging the present and obtaining repercussions or predictive capacities for the future.

The creed of philosophical-religious idealism may be a cocoon in which to lull oneself, but from the attentive and propulsive Faith flows a life of love that is also unpredictable, capable of inexplicable recoveries: it demands personal judgment and new grit in situation.

Harmful to dust off and readjust old things or one-sided dreams.It is necessary to have open eyes and at the same time to give time, so that we overcome the fatalisms of archaic monotheism, the sentiments that confuse intimist emotionalism with passion for the things of God, the reductionist and schematic fundamentalisms, the illusions that we are already well on the path of conversion.

The God of ancient religion has its demands and does not appear longsuffering. The Father of Jesus knows how to wait. He tolerates both stubbornness and careless acceleration.

He does not get irritated, does not give in to the frenzy of blow after blow. He is not disinterested, however, he does not complain; nor does he retaliate.

It proposes solutions.

She reiterates occasions that would melt the hard temper of our idols -- for an evolution toward a renewed masterpiece of heavenly Patience.

It has the style of the mother or at any rate of the parent - close relative - who by dint of caresses and kisses persuades the wayward child to be fed the food that will make him grow (calmly) and thus surpass himself.

In this way he does not cause irreparable trouble - in fact he will astound us.

For a new Spring, in which the fig gives its unrepeatable sugary fruit [never already dry or dried] juicy and highly energetic-before the many leaves.

So that fraternity does not remain "at best a romantic expression" (FT, 109).

To internalize and live the message:

How do you safeguard community living and your transpositions of Faith in Christ? What is the point of homologation in satisfactions, and where do you place your Preciousness?

""Repent', says the Lord, "for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand'", we proclaimed before the Gospel […] that presents us with the fundamental theme of this "strong season" of the liturgical year: the invitation to change our lives and to do works worthy of penance.
Jesus, as we heard, recalls two items of news: a brutal repression in the Temple by the Roman police (cf. Lk 13: 1) and the tragic death of 18 people, killed when the tower in Siloam collapsed (v. 4). People interpret these events as divine punishment for those victims' sins, and thinking they are upright, believe they are safe from such accidents and that they have nothing in their own lives that they should change. Jesus, however, denounces this attitude as an illusion: "Do you think that these Galileans were worse sinners than all the other Galileans, because they suffered thus? I tell you, no; but unless you repent you will all likewise perish" (vv. 2-3). And he invites us to reflect on these events for a greater commitment on the journey of conversion, for it is precisely the closure of ourselves to the Lord and the failure to take the path of our own conversion that lead to death, to the death of the soul. In Lent, each one of us is asked by God to mark a turning point in our life, thinking and living in accordance with the Gospel, correcting some aspect of our way of praying, acting or working and of our relations with others. Jesus makes this appeal to us, not with a severity that is an end in itself but precisely because he is concerned for our good, our happiness and our salvation. On our part, we must respond to him with a sincere inner effort, asking him to make us understand which particular ways we should change. 

The conclusion of the Gospel passage reverts to the prospect of mercy, showing the urgent need to return to God, to renew life in accordance with God. Referring to a custom of the time, Jesus presents the parable of a fig tree planted in the vineyard. However, this fig tree was barren, it produced no fruit (cf. Lk 13: 6-9). The dialogue that develops between the master and the vinedresser shows on the one hand the mercy of God who is patient and allows human beings, all of us, time in which to convert; and on the other, the need to start to change both our interior and exterior way of life straight away in order not to miss the opportunities that God's mercy affords us to overcome our spiritual laziness and respond to God's love with our own filial love. 

[Pope Benedict, homily parish St. John of the Cross, March 7, 2010]

3. I spoke of fructification, and I am also helped in this by the Gospel, when it proposes - a reading we recently encountered in the sacred liturgy - the simile of the barren fig tree, which is threatened with uprooting (Lk 13:6-9). Man must bear fruit in time, that is, during his earthly life, and not only for himself, but also for others, for the society of which he is an integral part. However, this operation of his in time, precisely because he is "contained" in time, must neither make him forget nor neglect his other essential dimension, of being that is oriented toward eternity: man, therefore, must bear fruit simultaneously for eternity as well.

And if we take this perspective away from man, he will remain a barren fig tree.

On the one hand, he must "fill with himself" time creatively, because the otherworldly dimension certainly does not dispense him from the duty to work responsibly and originally, participating effectively and in collaboration with all other men in the building up of society according to the concrete needs of the historical moment, in which he finds himself living. It is, this, the Christian sense of the "historicity" of man. On the other hand, this commitment of faith immerses the young person in a contemporaneity, which carries within itself, in a certain sense, a vision contrary to Christianity.

This anti-view has these characteristics, which I recall in a manner, albeit briefly.

Man today often lacks a sense of the transcendent, of supernatural realities, of something that surpasses him. Man cannot live without some thing that goes further, that surpasses him. Man lives himself if he is aware of this, if he must always go beyond himself, transcend himself. This transcendence is deeply inscribed in the human constitution of the person.

Behold, in the anti-view, as I have said, contemporary, the meaning of man's existence therefore comes to be "determined" within the framework of a materialistic conception in order to the various problems, such as those of justice, work, etc.: hence arise those multiform contrasts between social categories or between national entities, in which the various collective egoisms manifest themselves. It is necessary, on the other hand, to overcome such a closed and, in the end, alienating conception, contrasting it with that broader horizon that right reason and even more so the Christian faith already let us glimpse. There, in fact, problems find a fuller solution; there justice takes on completeness and implementation in all its aspects; there human relationships, excluding all forms of selfishness, come to correspond to the dignity of man, as a person on whom the face of God shines.

[Pope John Paul II, to the young people of Turin, April 13, 1980]

Unfortunately, every day the press reports bad news: homicides, accidents, catastrophes.... In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus refers to two tragic events which had caused a stir: a cruel suppression carried out by Roman soldiers in the temple, and the collapse of the tower of Siloam in Jerusalem, which resulted in 18 deaths (cf. Lk 13:1-5).

Jesus is aware of the superstitious mentality of his listeners and he knows that they misinterpreted that type of event. In fact, they thought that, if those people died in such a cruel way it was a sign that God was punishing them for some grave sin they had committed, as if to say “they deserved it”. Instead, the fact that they were saved from such a disgrace made them feel “good about themselves”. They “deserved it”; “I’m fine”.

Jesus clearly rejects this outlook, because God does not allow tragedies in order to punish sins, and he affirms that those poor victims were no worse than others. Instead, he invites his listeners to draw from these sad events a lesson that applies to everyone, because we are all sinners; in fact, he said to those who questioned him, “Unless you repent you will all likewise perish” (v. 3).

Today too, seeing certain misfortunes and sorrowful events, we can be tempted to “unload” the responsibility onto the victims, or even onto God himself. But the Gospel invites us to reflect: What idea do we have of God? Are we truly convinced that God is like that, or isn’t that just our projection, a god made to “our image and likeness”?

Jesus, on the contrary, invites us to change our heart, to make a radical about-face on the path of our lives, to abandon compromises with evil — and this is something we all do, compromises with evil, hypocrisy.... I think that nearly all of us has a little hypocrisy — in order to decidedly take up the path of the Gospel. But again there is the temptation to justify ourselves. What should we convert from? Aren’t we basically good people? — How many times have we thought this: “But after all I am a good man, I’m a good woman”... isn’t that true? “Am I not a believer and even quite a churchgoer?” And we believe that this way we are justified.

Unfortunately, each of us strongly resembles the tree that, over many years, has repeatedly shown that it’s infertile. But, fortunately for us, Jesus is like a farmer who, with limitless patience, still obtains a concession for the fruitless vine. “Let it alone this year” — he said to the owner — “we shall see if it bears fruit next year” (cf. v. 9).

A “year” of grace: the period of Christ’s ministry, the time of the Church before his glorious return, an interval of our life, marked by a certain number of Lenten seasons, which are offered to us as occasions of repentance and salvation, the duration of a Jubilee Year of Mercy. The invincible patience of Jesus! Have you thought about the patience of God? Have you ever thought as well of his limitless concern for sinners? How it should lead us to impatience with ourselves! It’s never too late to convert, never. God’s patience awaits us until the last moment.

Remember that little story from St Thérèse of the Child Jesus, when she prayed for that man who was condemned to death, a criminal, who did not want to receive the comfort of the Church. He rejected the priest, he didn’t want [forgiveness], he wanted to die like that. And she prayed in the convent, and when, at the moment of being executed, the man turned to the priest, took the Crucifix and kissed it. The patience of God! He does the same with us, with all of us. How many times, we don’t know — we’ll know in heaven — but how many times we are there, there ... [about to fall off the edge] and the Lord saves us. He saves us because he has great patience with us. And this is his mercy. It’s never too late to convert, but it’s urgent. Now is the time! Let us begin today.

May the Virgin Mary sustain us, so that we can open our hearts to the grace of God, to his mercy; and may she help us to never judge others, but rather to allow ourselves to be struck by daily misfortunes and to make a serious examination of our consciences and to repent.

[Pope Francis, Angelus February 28, 2016]

The room of Happiness, in the decisive horizon

(Lk 12:54-59)

«Now, why do not you judge also for yourselves what is right?» (v.57).

From nature and events we must know how to draw lessons - even for the horizon of Mystery.

In Christ we have the capacity for thought and everyone is made autonomous: from the externality of things we are brought back to the Origin of what happens.

Jesus' appeal on the Signs of Time was the inspirational text of Pope John for the convocation of the Second Vatican Council, so that the Church might question herself, paying greater attention to God’s Calls  in history and to the hopes of humanity.

Predictability did not change spiritual pace; in each, its foreseeability did not allow the soul to see far.

In fact, Love is never according to chained, normal expectations or convictions, without new astonishing satisfactions.

Mass ideas are distracted, harnessed, by conformist thoughts. The never tested convictions wither the gaze, place the character impulses on dead tracks.

They generate paths that revolve around and suspend the realization, the ability to perceive the possibilities of the inner world; as well as opportunities for communion.

It is the heart that sees the slightest possibilities. It grasps them on perennial questions, in a relationship of reciprocity with the meaning of present life.

And Jesus wants our plant to throw new leaves again. Because what we believe belongs to us, is already lost.

Then the invitation to Conversion - instead of stranding the soul and thought on models - makes attentive to the polyhedron of Friendship with ourselves, with our brothers and sisters even distant, and all things, now.

World of relationship that nothing considers irrelevant - and can make us enrich [if unlocked] with adventurous, fresh, lively discrepancies, which appear from free energies that do not want standard life; together.

Radical change is... not just thinking about fast consent, about immediate (even banal) interests that you do not really want - and we know does not work: it would not upset anything.

The Moment to discover the contents and not leave us be dazed, the present chance, the spirit of the pilgrim, the recognition of cultures... have a decisive character for the evolution of life in the Spirit.

It does not rest on the coded, enlisted protagonism, which already knows where it is going - and so it runs aground, adapts, loses sight of us, makes us interdicted. It reaps victims of illusions, of external friction; poisoning the road with muscular approaches and too much thoughts.

Compliments outside do not bring the I and the you back to the Roots, nor do they explode for the true future, the one to be lived intensely, which will make us vibrate.

Here is the «Present Moment»: the door to be opened to enter the room of happy energy, which remains magmatic - unceasing gift, ‘anointing’ and Vision that we do not know.

Astonishment that invites and leads far beyond the homologising, conformist, one-sided aspect - of din, cliché, tacticism, or other people's age to be reproduced.

To internalize and live the message:

How do you live the tension between the vision of the genius of time and the present moment?

What relationship do you see between God’s Promise and our hopes?

[Friday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 23, 2026]

The room of Happiness, in the decisive horizon

(Lk 12:54-59)

"Now why do you not also judge for yourselves what is right?" (v.57).

From nature and happenings we need to know how to draw lessons-even for the horizon of Mystery.

In Christ we have capacity for thought and are made autonomous: from the externality of things we are brought back to the Origin of what happens.

Jesus' call on the Signs of Time was Pope John's inspirational text for the convocation of the Second Vatican Council, so that the Church would finally be the one to question itself, paying more attention to God's Callings in history and the hopes of humanity.

Self-celebratory security and the pomp of grand forms had dampened the ardent feeling and liberating enthusiasm of the Risen One.

Predictability did not change spiritual pace; in each, its predictability did not allow the soul to see far ahead.

The certainties of the codes extinguished the charge and caused the faithful to be overwhelmed only by routine and problems.

Even today, the certainties of structure and circumstance-all established-weaken the blossoming into the present; they do not allow one to perceive and experience what is made Event.

Commonplaces are capable of displacing Vocation from the magical territory where it arises (and knocks within), turning it to a sacramental everydayness all predicted-approved by the established social or ecclesial contour on the ground.

Instead, our foundational Eros must be spent now and outgoing, for it lives on passions, not staleness; it rests on desire and complicity with the Spirit, who with his Fire renews the face of the earth.

But it is extinguished if we allow ourselves to be carried away by thoughtful assessments about the forces in the field: give-and-take calculations, opportunistic situationalism ... even other people's intentions, or purist, and circumstantial.

Convincing and personal momentum pales in the forcing, scheduling, control obsessions and verifications, without decisive breakthroughs-as if we were in kindergarten.

For Love is never according to concatenated, normal expectations or convictions, without new, jaw-dropping satisfactions - nor does it retrace mass ideas distracted by usual conformist, gaze-drying thoughts.

Beliefs never screened nor tested place character impulses on dead tracks.

Inculcated certainties generate ways that go around, suspend noticing, dim any ability to perceive possibilities of the inner world; as well as opportunities for communion.

It is the heart that sees the least possibilities. It grasps them on perennial questions in reciprocal relationship with the meaning of present life.

And Jesus wants our plant to sprout new leaves again, all green (unseasoned). 

Not mold: what we think belongs to us is already lost.

Then the invitation to Conversion - instead of stranding the soul and thought on ancient models or abstract, one-sided utopias - makes us attentive to the polyhedron of Friendship with ourselves, with our brothers and sisters even far away, and all things, now.

World of relationship that nothing deems irrelevant - and can make us enriched (unblocked) with adventurous, fresh, lively dissimilarities, which emerge from free energies that do not want standard life, nor too much the binding of memories, but radical change, together.

As the encyclical Brothers All points out, "this implies the habitual capacity to recognize the other's right to be himself and to be different" (no. 218).

Radical change is ... not to think only of the quick consensus, of one's own near (even trivial) gain, which after all we do not really desire - and we know does not work: it would not change anything.

Such intimate and social Appeal must be grasped immediately, here and now, while the human time of grace lasts-God's moment on our behalf.

The Moment to discover the contents and not leave us dazed, the present chance, the spirit of the pilgrim, the recognition of cultures... have a decisive character for the evolution of life in the Spirit.

It does not rest on codified, enlisted protagonism, which already knows where to arrive -- and thus strands, adapts, loses sight of us, makes us interdicted; reaps victims of illusions, of external friction; intoxicating the road of muscular approaches and thoughts.

Fallacious things, e.g., the fixed and unglamorous idol that often stalks souls: the "what we've achieved"-with its conformist goals, ripped promotions, others watching us...

Compliments outside do not bring the "I" and the "you" back to the Roots, nor do they explode for the real future, the one to be lived intensely, that will vibrate.

The "Present Moment" is simply the door to open to usher in the room of happy energy, which lingers magmatically -- unceasing gift, "anointing" and Vision we do not know.Awe that invites and leads far beyond the homogenizing, one-sided, pigtailed aspect -- of phrasing, cliché, tacticism, or other people's age to reproduce.

"Theatricals! The appearance of earth and heaven you know how to discern, but this time how do you not know how to discern?" (Luke 12:56).

To internalize and live the message:

How do you live the tension between the vision of the genius of time and the present moment?

What relationship do you grasp between God's Promise and our hopes?

Faith and the sign of the times

Faith is not a kind of object nor an ideology (which one may or may not have), but a Relationship.

It proceeds from a God who reveals himself, challenges us and calls us by name.

His varied and rich Face does not collide with common thought, but intercepts our desire for fullness of life, and in this way corresponds and conquers us.

It is not a punctual affair, but one that gushes and proceeds from wave to wave in the course of existence -- with all the load of its surprises over time [they from time to time challenge, sabotage, or astound us].

In said relationship, the Faith that precisely arises from listening is kindled when the Father's initiative, which is manifested and revealed in a proposal that comes to us, is accepted and not rejected.

In evolution, such a dynamic establishes an invisible Presence in the concealed Self, unquenchable fire of our foundational Eros; Echo perceptible-even in the genius of time, in the furrows of personal history, in the folds of events and relationships, advice, opposing evaluations and even ruptures.

The Relationship of Faith has several approaches. A first stage is that of Faith Assent: the person recognizes himself in a world of knowledge that corresponds to him. This is a very dignified level, but common to all religions and philosophies.

Scrutinizing the Word, one understands that the specificity of biblical Faith is much more about concrete existence than about thought or discipline: it has a different character from the codes, it is Sponsal.

Faith already in the First Testament is typically that reliance of the Bride [in Hebrew Israèl is a feminine gender term] who has full confidence in the Bridegroom.

She knows that resting on the God-Con she will flourish authentically and enjoy fullness of life, even passing through unpleasant events.

Faith lived in the Spirit of the Risen One enjoys other facets, which are decisive in giving color to our going in the world and our full maturation and joy in life.

[Crucial in all is both listening to Sacred Scripture and moving from the jumble of thoughts that fragment our inner eye to perception, that is, to a contemplative gaze that knows how to rest on ourselves and things].

The third step of Christological faith is precisely a kind of Appropriation: the subject identifies himself and-sure of the friendly reciprocity experienced in the Gifts-takes possession of the Lord's meek and strong heart with a stroke of the hand and without any prescribed merit.

Quoting St. Bernard, Alphonsus Maria de' Liguori states, "That merit which I lack to enter Paradise, I usurp from the merits of Jesus Christ." No rigmarole or discipline of the arcane.

Mind you, these are not "trials" of vicarious substitution, as if Jesus had to make good a debt of sins because the Father needed blood and at least one to pay dearly for it.

The person becomes intimate with Christ not simply by communal belief, but by personal inner action.

God recovers us by educating us.

It is true that by sending a lamb among wolves its end is marked. But it is also the only way to teach men -- still in a prehuman condition -- that that of competition is not the life of people, but of ferocious beasts.

The lamb is the tame being that gives even wolves pause: only by fully appropriating it do the beasts realize that they are such.

Thus we can begin to say, "I" as men instead of beasts. 

Of course, only people reconciled with their own affairs do good. But the authentic and full best is beyond our reach; not one's own production. We are not omnipotent.

A further stage in the journey of life in Christ and the Spirit is that of Faith-Calamite.

It too takes the form of an Action, for the soul-bride reads the sign of the times, interprets the surrounding reality and her own inclinations. And grasping the scope of the Future, she anticipates and actualizes it.

Thus we avoid wasting life in support of dead branches.

But the ultimate and perhaps even more perfect stage (I would say the pinnacle) of such Faith-Enchantment is that of Faith-Wonderfulness.

It is the specific belief of the Incarnation, for it recognizes precisely the Treasures that lie behind our dark sides.

Such Pearls will descend in the course of existence [they will do what they must when necessary] and it will be a wonder to discover them.

The pierced cocoon will generate our Butterfly, which is not construction approved to prototypes, but Astonishment.

Dear friends, never desist from this educational task, even when the road becomes difficult and your efforts seem to be unproductive. Carry it out in fidelity to the Church and with respect for the identity of your institutions, using the means that history has consigned to you and that “‘creativity’ in charity” will suggest to you for the future, as Blessed John Paul II said. 

In the past four decades, you have been able to deepen, experience and put into practice a working method based on three interrelated and synergetic forms of attention: listening, observing and discerning, employing them in your mission service through the charitable animation of the communities on your respective territories. This is a style that makes possible not only pastoral action but also to follow up a profound and fruitful dialogue with the various milieus of ecclesial life, with associations and movements and with the variegated world of organized volunteer service.

This means listening in order to know, of course, but at the same time to become close, to support Christian communities in caring for those who need to feel God’s warmth through the open and willing hands of Jesus’ disciples. It is important that suffering people be able to feel God’s warmth and that they feel it through our hands and our open-heartedness. In this way Caritas branches must be like “watchmen” (cf. Is 21:11-12) who can become aware and make others aware, who can predict and forestall, who can provide support and suggest solutions in the sure wake of the Gospel and of the Church’s social teaching. 

The individualism of our time, the presumed sufficiency of technology, and the relativism that influences everyone are all seeking to invite people and communities to higher forms of listening, to a capacity for a broader vision and more open heart concerning needs and resources, to community forms of discernment on how to be and act in a world that is profoundly changing. 

In scanning the pages of the Gospel, we are struck by Jesus’ actions: actions that communicate grace, teach faith and the “sequela”; actions of healing and acceptance, of mercy and hope, of a future and of compassion; actions that begin or perfect a call to follow him and that flow into recognition of the Lord as a single reason for the present and for the future.

Gestures and signs are connatural to Caritas’ pedagogical function. It is in fact through concrete signs that you speak, evangelize and educate. A charitable work speaks of God, proclaims hope, induces people to question themselves. I hope you will be able to foster in the best possible way the quality of the institutions you have been able to create. Make them, as it were, “eloquent”, concerned above all with the inner inspiration that motivates them and the quality of the witness they radiate. They are institutions born of faith. They are Church institutions, an expression of attention to those whose life is more of a struggle. They are pedagogical actions because they help the poorest people grow in dignity, Christian communities walk in the footsteps of Christ and civil society consciously assume its obligations.

Let us remember what the Second Vatican Council taught: “The demands of justice must first of all be satisfied; that which is already due in justice is not to be offered as a gift of charity” (Decree on the Apostolate of Lay People, Apostolicam Actuositatem, n. 8).

The humble, material service that the Church offers is not intended to replace or even less to dull the collective and civil conscience. It is backed by a spirit of sincere collaboration, within the proper autonomy and in the full awareness of subsidiariety.

From the very beginning of your pastoral journey you were given as a priority commitment the faculty to create a far-reaching presence in Italy, especially through the Diocesan and Parish branches of Caritas. Today too this is a goal to aim for. I am sure that your Pastors will be able to support and guide you, especially by helping the communities to understand the proprium of the pastoral animation that Caritas brings to the life of every particular Church. Moreover, I am certain that you will listen to your Pastors and follow their instructions.

Attention to the country and to its animation then gives rise to the ability to interpret the evolution of the life of its inhabitants, their difficulties and their worries, as well as their opportunities and prospects. Charity requires open-mindedness, a broad outlook, intuition and foresight, “a heart that sees” (cf. Encyclical Deus Caritas Est, n. 25).

Responding to needs not only means giving bread to the hungry; it also means letting oneself be challenged by the reasons causing their hunger, with the gaze of Jesus who could see the deep reality of the people who came to him. It is in this perspective that the present day calls into question your method of being animators and agents of charity. One cannot but also think of the vast world of migration. Natural disasters and wars often create emergency situations. The global economic crisis is a further sign of the times that demands the courage of brotherhood.

The gap between the north and the south of the world and the damaged human dignity of so many people, appeal for a charity that can spread out gradually from the small to the great economic systems. The increasing hardship and weakening of families and the uncertainty of the condition of youth, point to the risk of a loss of hope. Humanity does not only need benefactors but also humble, practical people who, like Jesus, are able to stand beside their brethren, sharing a little of their struggle. In a word, humanity seeks signs of hope. The source of our hope is the Lord. This is the reason why Caritas is necessary; not in order to delegate the service of charity to it, but so that it may be a sign of Christ’s Charity, a sign that brings hope. Dear friends, help the whole Church to make God’s love visible. Give freely and encourage others to do so. Recall everyone to the essentiality of love that becomes a service. Accompany our weaker brothers and sisters. Inspire Christian communities. Tell the world of the word of love that comes from God. Seek love as a synthesis of all the gifts of the Spirit (cf. 1 Cor 14:1).

May the Blessed Virgin Mary who on her visit to Elizabeth brought the sublime gift of Jesus in the humility of her service (cf. Lk 1:39-43) be your guide. I accompany you with my prayers and I gladly impart to you the Apostolic Blessing, extending it to all those whom you meet every day in your many activities. Many thanks.

[Pope Benedict, Address to Caritas Italiana on the 40th anniversary of its foundation, Nov. 24, 2011]