«Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my Words shall not pass away»

(Dan 12:1-3; Ps 15; Heb 10:11-14.18; Mk 13:24-32)

Even in the age of telematic progress, the disappearance of economic levels and many ancient securities gives rise to confusion and apprehension.

If everything seems to be called into question, we ask ourselves: how do we relate to the facts that alarm us, and how do we involve ourselves in the chronicle of a world shaken by upheaval?

Ancient man protests the danger of degradation, or lowers his head, humiliated.

Person of Faith takes note; does not lower himself. Rather, strives to discern the genius of time in the folds of history.

Thus we sharpen our inner eye - and recognising the new flashes of life, we raise the gaze.

We want the All, we are not satisfied with monochromatic nothingness.

At the time of Jesus, the 'apocalyptics' held the view that the world's affairs were turning to the worst.

A land in which the lambs are destined to succumb before the beasts can only regress towards increasing disunity and social collapse.

But out of such corruption - and having ascertained man's incapacity - God would bring forth new heavens and a new earth; for each one a propitious, luxuriant, flourishing reality, governed directly by the Lord (the only one who can be trusted).

The encouragement in the First Reading is set in this framework: no tear, no sacrifice will fade away; our involvement - even in fatigue or mockery - is not destined to fall on deaf ears.

This will also be the result of a renewed awareness: only God humanises the earth.

The biblical author conveys this message through the icon of 'Michael', whose name in Hebrew מִיכָאֵל [mì-chà-Él] means «Who (is) like God?».

Rhetorical question to say that no one is like God: no substitute can replace or equal Him.

When the Angel will have the upper hand - that is, when that consciousness takes over - people will understand in all its facets that only the Eternal One makes the world livable.

He will lift us from the sense of contamination or qualunquism that accompanies the believer's journey.

And not only will we not allow ourselves to be seized by the panic of external reversals, but neither by an impression of unworthiness linked to the religious perception of sin [cf. Second Reading].

Calamities, breakdowns, insecurities, in Christ will be perceived not as alarming and distressing facts - for the drama of an agonising world that would drag us down to corruption - but as times and places even favourable to the solution of real problems.

People dragged along by chaotic impulses errs, but the person of Faith perceives external upsets as great opportunities for growth.

The Apostle does not allow himself to be gripped by the pangs of a vital birth.

He experiences the discomforts, transforming them into energy; moulded into opportunities for “therapy”, growth, and a return to the essentials.

Here, the seemingly adverse overhangs become the motive and engine of Exodus. A path that cannot be undermined by the anguish of imperfection.

In this way, both the generically pious man and the person animated by Faith can be considered mothers and fathers of the Future...

But with one substantial difference:

Turmoil of reality is an opportune moment to discover new inner strengths.

If habit has suffocated us, Providence “intervenes” even by throwing everything up in the air - because it sees us as barren.

For this reason, the authentic believer is always one step ahead and is different from the one-sided, devout or sophisticated pious man.

He puts neuroses in the background - and does not wait for Future, nor delegates it... but 'reads' it, anticipates it, builds it.

[33rd Sunday (B), 17 November 2024]

«Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my Words shall not pass away»

(Dan 12:1-3; Ps 15; Heb 10:11-14.18; Mk 13:24-32)

"The expression 'heaven and earth' is frequent in the Bible to indicate the whole universe, the entire cosmos. Jesus declares that all this is destined to "pass away". Not only the earth, but also heaven, which is understood here in a cosmic sense, not as a synonym for God. Sacred Scripture knows no ambiguity: all creation is marked by finitude, including the elements deified by ancient mythologies: there is no confusion between creation and the Creator, but a clear distinction. With such a clear distinction, Jesus affirms that his words 'shall not pass away', that is, they are on God's side and therefore eternal. Although pronounced in the concreteness of his earthly existence, they are prophetic words par excellence, as Jesus states in another place addressing his heavenly Father: 'The words that you gave to me I have given to them. They have received them and truly know that I came forth from you and have believed that you sent me" (Jn 17:8). In a famous parable, Christ compares himself to the sower and explains that the seed is the Word (cf. Mk 4:14): those who hear it, accept it and bear fruit (cf. Mk 4:20) are part of the Kingdom of God, that is, they live under his lordship; they remain in the world, but they are no longer of the world; they carry within them a seed of eternity, a principle of transformation that is already manifested now". (Pope Benedict, Angelus 15 November 2009)

Even in the age of telematic progress, the fading away of economic levels and many ancient certainties gives rise to confusion and apprehension.

If everything seems to be called into question, we ask ourselves: how do we relate to the facts that alarm us, and how do we involve ourselves in the chronicle of a world shattered by upheaval?

The ancient man protests the danger of moral and doctrinal degradation, or lowers his head, humiliated.

The man of Faith takes note; he does not lower himself. Rather, he strives to discern the genius of the age in the folds of history.

Thus he sharpens his inner eye - and recognising the new flashes of life, he raises his gaze.

He wants the All, he is not content with monochromatic nothingness.

At the time of Jesus, the 'apocalyptics' held the view that the world's affairs were turning to the worst.

A land in which the lambs are destined to succumb before the beasts can only regress towards increasing disunity and social collapse.

But out of such corruption - and having ascertained man's incapacity - God would bring forth new heavens and a new earth; for everyone a propitious, flourishing reality, governed directly by the Lord (the only one who can be trusted).

The encouragement in the First Reading is set in this framework: no tear, no sacrifice will fade away; our involvement - even in fatigue or mockery - is not destined to fall on deaf ears.

This will also be the result of a renewed awareness: only God humanises the earth.

The biblical author conveys this message through the icon of Michael, whose name in Hebrew מִיכָאֵל (mì-chà-Él) means "who like God?".

A rhetorical question to say that no one is like God: no substitute can replace or equal Him.

When Michael takes over - that is, when he takes over this consciousness - men will understand in all its facets that only the Eternal One makes the world livable.

Thus they will reject the ancient fixations, as well as the more recent and sophisticated idols, which degrade and dehumanise the earth.

Such is the authenticity of the Face of God.

He will lift us up from the sense of contamination or qualunquism that accompanies the believer's itinerary.

And not only will we not allow ourselves to be seized by the panic of external upheavals, but neither by an impression of unworthiness linked to the religious perception of sin (cf. Second Reading).

Calamities, upheavals, insecurities, in Christ will be perceived not as alarming and distressing facts - because of the drama of an agonising world that would drag us down to corruption - but as times and places even favourable to the solution of real problems.

A people dragged along by chaotic impulses errs, but the man of Faith perceives external upheavals as great opportunities for growth, which cannot even be shaken by the anguish of imperfection.

Both the generically pious man and the person animated by Faith can be considered mothers and fathers of the Future...

But with one substantial difference:

Reality's upheavals are an opportunity to discover new inner strengths.

The bigoted man, on the other hand, matches the hedonist: both are but the paradoxical product of an external civilisation.

This can be seen from how they manifest themselves: obsessively attached to role, to place, to visible models to chase (conditioned by the search for shining circumstances).Despite appearances, the respectable devotion that deprives itself of the living and actual authenticity of Christ does not extract people from the banality of chasing offices and titles.

In archaic religions, in fact, or in the world of disembodied and incompetent utopianism, woe betide the already emblazoned!

They are not moved from situations (even of ecclesial ministry) to which they are accustomed and which count.

(It would be a crime of lese majesty to move them, even after decades in office and whatever they have done).

Today, all it would take is the slightest periscope to grasp that overwhelming impulses are coming into play to challenge situations that we imagined to be concluded and perfect.

Such prods serve to make us reflect on what we want: they reveal what we are.

Our reassuring identifications suddenly evaporate, because they are fossilised on goals that do not belong to us deeply... they were not 'ours'.

If habit has suffocated us, Providence also 'intervenes' by throwing everything away - because it sees us as barren.

The shrunken person is also incapable of achieving the true results that God dreams up on his own behalf.

Dragging his life along, the shrunken person revels in the usual barnyard peckishness, going round and round only.

But Someone within and without knows much more than we do.

As if to give us a cascade of authenticity, the Lord introduces into the events that trouble us a flow of fresh energy that tends to free us from the fetters of old ambitions and patterns.

Habit and task quietism have not allowed us to discover ourselves, let alone others and the world.

So it doesn't matter if established situations crumble and many old relationships - public and private - ruin.

To turn over a new leaf, one must stop this chasing after ancestral expectations and (paradoxically) welcome the crisis - danger and possibility.

Fundamental is to perceive in the problematic nature of events the opportunity for a coup de grâce that overrides epidermal dreams; those that compel us to act so much.

After all, it is the upheavals that solve the real problems and put "things back in place".

For this reason, the authentic believer is always one step ahead and differs from the pious one-sided, devout or sophisticated man.

He does not wait for Future, nor does he delegate it... but builds it.

The nothing and the everything

"In this Sunday's Gospel passage (cf. Mk 13:24-32), the Lord wants to instruct his disciples about future events. It is not primarily a discourse on the end of the world, rather it is an invitation to live well in the present, to be vigilant and always ready for when we will be called to account for our lives. Jesus says: "In those days, after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, the moon will no longer give its light, the stars will fall from heaven" (vv. 24-25). These words make us think of the first page of the Book of Genesis, the account of creation: the sun, the moon, the stars, which from the beginning of time shine in their order and bring light, the sign of life, here are described in their decay, as they plunge into darkness and chaos, the sign of the end. Instead, the light that will shine on that final day will be unique and new: it will be that of the Lord Jesus who will come in glory with all the saints. In that meeting we will finally see his Face in the full light of the Trinity; a Face radiant with love, before which every human being will also appear in total truth.

Human history, like the personal history of each one of us, cannot be understood as a mere succession of words and deeds that do not make sense. Neither can it be interpreted in the light of a fatalistic vision, as if everything were already predetermined according to a destiny that subtracts any space of freedom, preventing us from making choices that are the fruit of a true decision. Rather, in today's Gospel, Jesus says that the history of peoples and that of individuals have an end and a goal to reach: the definitive encounter with the Lord. We do not know the time nor the manner in which it will take place; the Lord reiterated that "no one knows, neither the angels in heaven nor the Son" (v. 32); everything is kept in the secret of the Father's mystery. We know, however, a fundamental principle with which we must contend: "Heaven and earth will pass away," says Jesus, "but my words will not pass away" (v. 31). The real crucial point is this. On that day, each of us will have to understand whether the Word of the Son of God has illuminated our personal existence, or whether we have turned our backs on it, preferring to trust in our own words. More than ever, it will be the moment when we must definitively abandon ourselves to the Father's love and entrust ourselves to his mercy.

No one can escape this moment, none of us! The cleverness, which we often put into our behaviour to accredit the image we want to offer, will no longer serve; Similarly, the power of money and economic means with which we presumptuously claim to buy everything and everyone, will no longer be used. We shall take with us nothing but what we have accomplished in this life by believing his Word: the all and nothing of what we have lived or neglected to accomplish. We will only take with us what we have given.

Let us invoke the intercession of the Virgin Mary, so that the realisation of our impermanence on earth and of our limitation does not cause us to sink into anguish, but calls us to responsibility towards ourselves, towards our neighbour, towards the whole world". (Pope Francis, Angelus 18 November 2018)

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

We have reached the last two weeks of the liturgical year. Let us thank the Lord who has once again granted us to make this journey of faith old and ever new in the great spiritual family of the Church! It is a precious gift, which enables us to live the mystery of Christ in history, receiving in the furrows of our personal and community existence the seed of the word of God, a seed of eternity that transforms this world from within and opens it to the Kingdom of Heaven. This year, we have been accompanied along our itinerary through the Sunday biblical Readings by St Mark's Gospel, which today presents to us part of Jesus' discourse on the end of times. In this discourse is a phrase whose terse clarity is striking: "Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away" (Mk 13: 31). Let us pause a moment to reflect on this prophecy of Christ. 

The expression "Heaven and earth" recurs frequently in the Bible in reference to the whole universe, the entire cosmos. Jesus declares that all this is destined to "pass away"; not only the earth but also Heaven, which here is meant in a purely cosmic sense and not as synonymous with God. Sacred Scripture knows no ambiguity: all Creation is marked by finitude, including the elements divinized by ancient mythologies; there is no confusion between Creation and the Creator but rather a decided difference. With this clear distinction Jesus says that his words "will not pass away", that is to say they are part of God and therefore eternal. Even if they were spoken in the concreteness of his earthly existence, they are prophetic words par excellence, as Jesus affirms elsewhere, addressing the heavenly Father: "I have given them the words which you gave me, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me" (Jn 17: 8). In a well-known parable Christ compares himself to the sower and explains that the seed is the word (cf. Mk 4: 14); those who hear it, accept it and bear fruit (cf. Mk 4: 20) take part in the Kingdom of God, that is, they live under his lordship. They remain in the world, but are no longer of the world. They bear within them a seed of eternity a principle of transformation that is already manifest now in a good life, enlivened by charity, and that in the end will produce the resurrection of the flesh. This is the power of Christ's word. 

Dear friends, the Virgin Mary is the living sign of this truth. Her heart was "good soil" that received with complete willingness the Word of God, so that her whole life, transformed according to the image of the Son, was introduced into eternity, body and soul, in anticipation of the eternal vocation of every human being. Let us now make our own in prayer her response to the Angel: "Let it be to me according to your word" (Lk 1: 38), so that in following Christ on the way of the Cross we too may be able to attain the glory of the Resurrection.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 15 November 2009]

1. After meditating on the eschatological goal of our existence, that is, eternal life, we now reflect on the journey that leads to it. To do this, we develop the perspective presented in the Apostolic Letter Tertio millennio adveniente: “The whole of the Christian life is like a great pilgrimage to the house of the Father, whose unconditional love for every human creature, and in particular for the ‘prodigal son’ (cf. Lk 15:11-32), we discover anew each day. This pilgrimage takes place in the heart of each person, extends to the believing community and then reaches to the whole of humanity” (n. 49).

In fact, what Christians will one day live to the full is already in some way anticipated today. Indeed, the Passover of the Lord inaugurates the life of the world to come.

2. The Old Testament prepares for the announcement of this truth through the complex theme of the Exodus. The journey of the chosen people to the promised land (cf. Ex 6:6) is like a magnificent icon of the Christian’s journey towards the Father's house. Obviously there is a fundamental difference: while in the ancient Exodus liberation was oriented to the possession of land, a temporary gift like all human realities, the new “Exodus” consists in the journey towards the Father’s house, with the definitive prospect of eternity that transcends human and cosmic history. The promised land of the Old Testament was lost de facto with the fall of the two kingdoms and the Babylonian Exile, after which the idea of returning developed like a new Exodus. However, this journey did not end in another geographical or political settlement, but opened itself to an “eschatological” vision that was henceforth a prelude to full revelation in Christ.  The universalistic images, which in the Book of Isaiah describe the journey of peoples and history towards a new Jerusalem, the centre of the world (cf. Is 56-66), in fact point in this direction.

3. The New Testament announces the fulfilment of this great expectation, holding up Christ as the Saviour of the world: “When the time had fully come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal 4:4-5). In the light of this announcement, this life is already under the sign of salvation. It is fulfilled in the coming of Jesus of Nazareth, which culminates in the Passover but will have its full realization in the “parousia”, the final coming of Christ.

According to the Apostle Paul, this journey of salvation which links the past to the present, directing it to the future, is the fruit of God's plan, totally focused on the mystery of Christ. This is the “mystery of his will, according to his purpose which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth” (Eph 1:9-10; cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1042f.).

In this divine plan, the present is the time of the “already and not yet”. It is the time of salvation already accomplished and the journey towards its full actualization: “Until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Eph4:13).

4. Growth towards this perfection in Christ, and  therefore growth towards the experience of the Trinitarian mystery, implies that the Passover will be fulfilled and fully celebrated only in the eschatological kingdom of God (cf. Lk 22:16). But the events of the Incarnation, the Crucifixion and the Resurrection already constitute the definitive revelation of God. The offer of redemption which this event implies is inscribed in the history of our human freedom, called to respond to the call of salvation.

Christian life is a participation in the paschal mystery, like the Way of the Cross and the Resurrection. It is a Way of the Cross, because our life is continually subject to the purification that leads to overcoming the old world marked by sin. It is a way of resurrection, because, in raising Christ, the Father conquered sin, so that for the believer the “justice of the Cross” becomes the “justice of God”, that is, the triumph of his truth and his love over the wickedness of the world.

5. In short, Christian life is growing towards the mystery of the eternal Passover. It therefore requires that we keep our gaze on the goal, the ultimate realities, but at the same time, that we strive for the “penultimate” realities: between these and the eschatological goal there is no opposition, but on the contrary  a mutually fruitful relationship. Although the primacy of the Eternal is always asserted, this does not prevent us from living historical realities righteously in the light of God (cf. CCC, n. 1048f.).

It is a matter of purifying every human activity and every earthly task, so that the Mystery of the Lord’s Passover will increasingly shine through them. As the Council in fact reminded us, human activity which is always marked by the sign of sin is purified and raised to perfection by the paschal mystery, so that “when we have spread on earth the fruits of our nature and our enterprise — human dignity, brotherly communion, and freedom — according to the command of the Lord and in his Spirit, we will find them once again, cleansed this time from the stain of sin, illuminated and transfigured, when Christ presents to his Father an eternal and universal kingdom” (Gaudium et spes, n. 39).

This eternal light illumines the life and the entire history of humanity on earth.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 11 August 1999]

The Gospel of this penultimate Sunday of the liturgical year offers us part of Jesus’ discourse regarding the last events of human history, oriented toward the complete fulfillment of the reign of God (cf. Mk 13:24-32). It is the talk that Jesus gave in Jerusalem before his last Passover. It has certain apocalyptic elements, such as wars, famine, cosmic catastrophes: “The sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken” (vv. 24-25). However, these segments are not the essential part of the message. The core around which Jesus’ words turn is he himself, the mystery of his person, and of his death and resurrection, and his return at the end of time. 

Our final goal is the encounter with the Risen Lord. I would like to ask how many of you think about this. “There will be a day in which I meet the Lord face to face”. And this is our goal: the encounter. We do not await a time or a place, but we are going to encounter a person: Jesus. Thus the problem is not “when” these premonitory signs of the last days will occur, but rather our being prepared. Neither is it about knowing “how” these things will happen, but instead “how” we have to act today, in awaiting these things. We are called to live the present, building our future with serenity and trust in God. The parable of the fig tree that sprouts, as a sign of the approaching summer (cf. vv. 28-29), teaches that the perspective of the end doesn’t distract us from the present life, but rather brings us to look at our current days with an outlook of hope. This virtue of hope that is so hard to live. The smallest but strongest of the virtues. And our hope has a face: the face of the Risen Lord, who comes “with great power and glory” (v. 26), which will manifest his love, crucified and transfigured in the Resurrection. The triumph of Jesus at the end of time will be the triumph of the Cross, the demonstration that the sacrifice of oneself for love of neighbour, in imitation of Christ, is the only victorious power, the only stable point in the midst of the upheavals and tragedies of the world. 

The Lord Jesus is not only the destination of our earthly pilgrimage, but also a constant presence in our lives; he is also beside us, he always accompanies. That’s why, when we speak of the future and project ourselves toward it, it is always in order to lead us back to the present. He counters the false prophets, the fortune-tellers who predict that the end of the world is near; he sets himself against fatalism. He is at our side; he walks with us; he loves us. He wants to remove from his disciples of every age the curiosity about dates, predictions, horoscopes, and focus their attention on the today of history. I would like to ask you — don’t answer out loud, each one answer to himself — how many of you read your horoscope every day? Each one answer, and when you feel like reading your horoscope, look to Jesus who is with you. This is better and will be better for you. This presence of Jesus calls us to the anticipation and vigilance that exclude both impatience and lethargy, both the escaping to the future and the becoming prisoners of the current moment and of worldliness. 

In our days, too, there is no lack of natural and moral disasters, nor of adversities and difficulties of every kind. Everything passes, the Lord reminds us; he alone, his Word remains as the light that guides and encourages our steps. He always forgives us because he is at our side. We need only look at him and he changes our hearts. May the Virgin Mary help us to trust in Jesus, the firm foundation of our life, and to persevere with joy in his love.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 15 November 2015]

The scandal of waiting

(Lk 18:1-8)

In the 80s the communities of Asia Minor suffered persecution because the emperor of Rome [the star Domitian] wanted to be venerated as god.

The official religious institution - servile and flattering - adapts itself. Christians not - aware of their own dignity and project of an alternative world.

Lk intends to encourage faithful and communities victims of abuse by highlighting how to reach the most effective disposition, capable of undermining the blackmail of social estrangement underway.

The ‘silence of God’ over abuses and domination of bullies posed questions and raised reserves of faith.

But in the parable, the irresponsible judge is not the Father! The unjust is icon that dramatizes the condition in which the disciples (without Master) come to be found in a world of cunning people.

Here is the «widow»: the community of the new ‘Anawim, poor of Yahweh [in the Gospels «ptōchôis»] ie defenseless, exposed to abuse - who have the Lord as their only hope.

They don’t remain on the surface of situations. They perceive the signs of the new Kingdom - of an alternative humanity - and crave them.

Lk says: the only means of finding oneself and not losing one’s founding energy is Prayer. It is not a folding in on oneself (vv.3.7).

The prayer of the sons is rather a forward action. A sort of leap that becomes magnetic and finally takes possession with force of his deep desire.

An embezzlement. As St. Bernard said: «How much I miss, I usurp from the side of Christ».

In short, Christian prayer has the same step of the Faith, and its multifaceted sides.

So it doesn’t plant us on the spot: it becomes a Source that induces rash gestures.

Why? At certain times things change. In the "world", only by calculation - but that said, even the most banal interests move something (vv.4-5).

There are aspects of our Dialogue with God characterized by traits of assent. But the “colourful” part of prayer comes when one enters the spousal climate - of listening, intuition; also of struggle and personal quarrel.

They result in a sort of reading of one’s own story’s weight, of the time’s genius and the grips for an actualization, which brings us out of mediocrity: take it or leave.

In short, prayer is a concrete gesture. It puts us in touch with a ‘vision’ that gives indications. Vocation at all costs.

A sort of primordial energy that comes back to heal and direct situations.

Not only is it the great tool for not losing head, and a means not to discourage.

Rather, a pungent and annoying action, with an attractive effect - as a ‘magnet’.

The dynamic, not very reassuring nest of prayer, brings us back to the Core of essence, to the eminent Self; to the realm of the Call by Name.

It becomes Reading and Intuition that meets the deep states.

It’s in shift of gaze and Vision that we actualize the future.

In this way, prayer itself guides us to the realization of our individual and ministerial-ecclesial being.

In fact, it creates: suddenly places (v.8) the appropriate conditions, the acute moments of the turning - because it lives Elsewhere, and in the base of the soul.

It sees God in the furrows of history, therefore it activates the energies of becoming: it drags reality, attracts it.

It enshrines and actualizes what is ‘coming’; it questions and stirs up the institution that tends to wither.

With his Rudder, even among too many mists, it plows through the waves of ageing toxins, flies over the harassment; moves the world and our whole life.

[Saturday 32nd wk. in O.T.  November 16, 2024]

The scandal of waiting and the kidnapping of the prelates

(Lk 18:1-8)

In the 80s, communities in Asia Minor suffered persecution because the emperor of Rome [the divine Domitian] demanded to be worshipped.

The official religious institution - servile and flattering - complies with the diktats of the Caesar on duty. 

Christians do not - aware of their own dignity and alternative world project, linked to a new face of God: no longer legislator and judge, but Creator and Redeemer of our intelligence, development and freedom.

The assemblies of the early believers are thus faced with hardships, discrimination and weariness that may be beyond their strength, but not their conscience.

Lk encourages believers and communities that are victims of abuse, with a narrative catechesis that emphasises how to arrive at the most effective disposition, capable of undermining the blackmail of social estrangement.

In fact, a kind of marginalisation (devious rather than violent) imposed by the religious and political authorities, by all the cliques in power.

If our gaze is obscured by conventions, the 'silence of God' in the face of abuses and the domination of bullies raises questions and raises reservations of faith.

[Today also for the kind of Church nostalgic for Constantine, or vice versa à la page; of later cynicism or disembodied superimpositions, and of many mists - not catacombs].

Certainly prayer does not force the Father to obey us, but our insistence is a sign of a living relationship, not a formal one.

This is the case even when it may happen that we become exhausted and (while remaining on the surface) do not consider the Creator entirely innocent in the face of evil and degradation.

But such an approach would cause us to miss the course of the King who reveals himself within... hiding in the furrows of events, and surfacing in hearts.

In the parable, the irresponsible judge is not the Father!

The unjust 'jurist' - a man of power - is an icon that dramatises the condition in which the disciples find themselves, deprived of the Master.

The authentic witnesses find themselves in a world of cunning, impregnated with ideology and the practice of having, power, appearing. Configurations that suffocate any yearning for genuine life.

Here is the "widow": the community of the new 'Anawim, Yahweh's poor [in the Gospels "ptōchôis"], that is, defenceless, exposed to abuse, deprived of worldly support - who have the Lord as their only hope.

Despite their shaky condition, the masses, though deprived of energy, do not desire conformity. They do not linger in adapting themselves to wiles - by dislodging themselves - without a Fire, a vital wave; without within a travelling companion to perceive, to welcome, to listen.

They reason and act from the hidden core of being and evolving. They do not remain at the bark of situations. They desire to be reborn.

They grasp the signs of the new emerging kingdom - of an alternative humanity - and yearn for them.

Should they lose the core, the meaning, they should return to learning to see in everything a calling, an infinity, an outside of time.

And a way of looking at themselves that is different from common sense. Us too: as if we were all lying on the foundational energy of our Dream - unique, personal, integral - that truly belongs to us.

Lk says: the only way to find ourselves and not lose the game of our character identity as children and critical witnesses is Prayer.

It is not the devout, predictable chanting that would put us to sleep (vv.3.7). Nor is it understood as religious duty: performance, formula, nerve-racking obligation; recognition of the honour due to the Master, or retreat.

It is evident from the tone of the narrative: the children's tu-per-tu is not an avalanche of pious emotions, rather an action forward.

A kind of leap that becomes magnetic and finally seizes powerfully on his deep desire.

An undue appropriation, but a corroborated one; not set up, or by our own merits, but through those of Christ - through the tenacious intuition he instils.

As St Bernard said: 'How much I miss the usurpation from the side of Christ'!

I recall the account of a great Roman parish priest ordained a priest by Paul VI who confided to me that he had participated in a blitz in the very Seminary I know so well. At the end of the celebration of a Eucharist (!) with distinguished guests, the students in revolt against the traditionalist prelates and professors of the Lateran - not at all intimidated by the rank of the sequestered - locked them in the sacristy, to force the various beautiful names present to yield to their demands for freedom [of readings and other]. They won the game shamelessly, unceremoniously - and some of the professors present changed their line on the spot (cf. v.8). Today those former seminarians are landmarks in the capital, all in the pastoral vanguard, people determined to follow their Calling. Real tough faces, who do not resign themselves. Impertinent, but imposing the appropriate developments, for everyone. They know: to lose sight of one's mission would mean losing the meaning of life, no longer knowing how to be with oneself, with others and with reality; finally, falling ill, because one would otherwise choose to live in a swamp, compulsorily slumbering.

Christian Prayer has the same pace as Faith, not only peacefully dialoguing - and in such nodal traits it can be described through its own multifaceted facets.

So it does not plant us on the spot: it becomes a Source that induces reckless, brazen and inappropriate actions; totally inappropriate.

Why? At certain times, things change. In the 'world', just by calculation - but having said that, even the most trivial interests move something (vv.4-5).

There are aspects of our relationship with God characterised by traits of assent.

But the colourful part of prayer comes when we enter into a spousal atmosphere - of listening, intuition; also of personal struggle and quarrelling.

Such true moments result in a kind of reading of the weight of one's own story, of the genius of the time, of the footholds for actualisation.

Vision and 'pulse' that takes us out of mediocrity. Exodus dynamics corroborated by unrepeatable sensibilities and inclinations.

In short, we are not qualunquists, nor do-gooders, but ourselves: take it or leave it.

Even if in prayer we are not triggered by a pious disposition but by anger, that wrath will be embodied in our hands.

That same 'wrath' will become energy to build the prophetic present - and to critically anticipate the future - without, however, 'raging' [v.1 Greek text].

In short, prayer is a concrete gesture: it puts us in contact with a Vision that gives direction.

Living Prayer brings us closer to the world, through the inner gaze: in the perception of an innate Image that is our clear mirror and Vocation at all costs.

Here, a kind of primordial energy arises; to heal and direct situations.

Not only is it the great tool not to lose one's head, and a means not to discourage.

Rather than fall back, here is a prickly and annoying action, which recovers the whole being dispersed in a thousand questing events, with an attractive, positively uplifting effect - a magnet.

The dynamic, not very reassuring nest of prayer takes us back to the Core of the essence, to the eminent Self; into the realm of the Calling by Name.

It becomes Reading and Intuition encountering the profound states.

It is in such a shift of gaze and Vision that we actualise the future.

In this way, prayer itself guides us to the realisation of our individual and ministerial-ecclesial [or para-ecclesial] being.

For it creates: it suddenly [v.8 Greek text] places the fitting conditions, the acute moments of the turning point - because it lives Elsewhere, and in the base of the soul.

It discerns God in history, therefore it activates the energies of becoming: it drags reality, it attracts it.

He sanctions and actualises what is coming; he questions and stirs the institution that tends to wither.

With his helm, even in the midst of too much fog, he ploughs through the storms of ageing toxins, he flies over anguish, he unravels the world and our whole life.

"The gift is so great that no eye has ever seen it, for it is not colour; no ear has ever heard it, for it is not sound; nor has it ever entered the heart of man (cf. 1 Cor 2:9), for it is there that the heart of man must enter. We shall receive it with all the greater ability, the firmer our faith, the firmer our hope, the more ardent our desire. We therefore always pray in this same faith, hope and charity, with unceasing desire. But at certain times and in certain circumstances, we also address God with words, so that, through these signs, we may stimulate ourselves and at the same time realise how far we have progressed in our holy aspirations, spurring us on with greater ardour to intensify them. For the more vivid the desire, the richer the effect. And therefore, what else do the words of the Apostle mean: "Pray unceasingly" (1 Thess 5:17) if not this: Desire, without tiring, from him who alone can grant it, that blessed life, which would be worth nothing if it were not eternal?".

S. Augustine, "Letter to Proba"

Continuous Prayer: a condition of grace and strength, which does not fail.

Failing without failing: unceasing struggle with ourselves and with God

(Mt 7:7-12)

Sometimes we put the Father in the dock, because he seems to let things go as our freedom directs them.

But his design is not to make the world work to the perfection of transistors (of yesteryear) or integrated circuits (in their respective 'packages') or 'chips' [various 'bits']...

God wants us to acquire a New Creation mindset. His Action moulds us to the Son, transforming projects, ideas, desires, words, standard behaviour.

At first, prayer may perhaps seem tinged with mere requests. The more one proceeds in the experience of prayer in the Spirit of Christ, the less one asks.

The demands diminish, until they almost cease.

Desires for accumulation, or revenge and triumph, give way to listening and perception.

The penetrating eye becomes aware of what is at hand and of the unusual - in the increasingly conscious welcoming, which becomes real contemplation and union.

We do not know how long, but the 'result' comes suddenly: not only certain, but disproportionate.

But as if extracted from a process of continuous incandescence, where there are no logical networks, no easy shortcuts.

We receive the ultimate and complete Gift. And we can host it with dignity. A new Creation in the Spirit, a different Face.

An unexpected Face - not simply the fantasised or well-arranged one (as passed on by the family or expected on the side).

God allows events to take their own course, seemingly distant from us; therefore prayer can take on dramatic overtones and provoke irritation - as if it were an open dispute between us and Him.

But He chooses not to be the guarantor of our outer dreams. He does not allow Himself to be introduced into petty limits.

He wants to involve us in more than just our goals, which often conform too much to what is right under our noses.

It invents expanded horizons, but in this labour it must be clear that we must not fail ourselves. That is, to the character of our essence and vocation.

All this, precisely by failing ourselves - that is, by surrendering the rigid point of view and dialoguing with our deepest layers.

This process shifts the conditional emphasis.

It is not that God delights in being relentlessly prayed to and bent over by the poor.

It is we who need time to meet our own souls and allow ourselves to be introduced to another kind of agenda that is not conformist and predictable.

Reading happenings according to totally 'inadequate', eccentric or excessive views, less contracted within the usual armour (and so on) can open the mind.

The expansion of the gaze increases intuition, modifies feelings, transforms, activates. It grasps other designs, opens up different horizons - with intermediate results that are already prodigious, certainly unpredictable.

When someone believes he has understood the world, he already conditions further, more intense desires that would like to invade our space.

This artificial 'nature' of spurious set-ups, external or other, blocks the itinerary towards the nature of character, the true personal call and mission.

Prayer must be insistent, because it is like a view laid upon oneself; not as we thought: authentically. 

The inner eye serves to make a kind of clear, individual space within, which opens to our and others' Presence, all to be looked at (in the way that counts).

It will be the wisest, strongest and most reliable travelling companion... carrying our identity-character and not pulling the essential self of the person elsewhere.

The conscious emptying out of the piled-up junk (by ourselves or others) must be filled over time by an intensity of Relation.

Here is the interpersonal dialogue-listening with the Source of being.

In it is nested our particular Seed: there the difference of face that belongs to us is seated and in bloom.

It will be the radical depth of the relationship with our Root - perhaps lost in too many regular, even elevated or functioning expectations - that will confer another, more convincing Way.

And it will uncover the unique tendency and destination that belongs to us, for Happiness we did not think of.

Goals, resolutions, disciplines, memories of the past, dreams of the future, searches for reference points, habitual evaluations of possibilities, piles of merit... are sometimes ballasts.

They distract from the soil of the soul, where our grain would like to take root to become what is in the heart.

And from the kernel make one understand the proposal of Mission received - not conquered, nor possessed - so that it grants another prodigious character (not: visibility).

Often the mental and affective system recognises itself in an album of thoughts, definitions, gestures, forms, problems, titles, tasks, characters, roles and things already dead.

Such a morphology of interdiction loses the authentic present, where, on the contrary, the divine Dream that completes - realising us in specificity - takes root.

So, here is the therapy of the absolute present in Listening - of non-planning; starting with each one.

This in the conscious gap of that part of us that seeks security, approval, and panders to trivialities.Through unceasing dialogue with the Father in prayer, we make space for the roots of Being, which (in the meantime) is already filling us with views and opportunities for a different fate.

By reactivating the exploratory charge stifled in the gears, we create the right gap and start again in the Exodus.

To settle, to stop, to settle in one spot, would turn even qualitative conquests into a land of new slavery.

It would oblige us to recite and retrace milestones that have already been conquered - which conversely we are by vocation called upon to cross.

Exodus... within a springing, cosmic and identifying Relationship, singularly foundational.

Through prolonged Listening in prayer, we children acquire knowledge of the soul and the Mystery.

We dwell long in the House of our very special essence.

Thus we plant it - or root it even deeper - in order to understand it and recover it completely, clear and full.

Now freed from the destiny mapped out in a narrow environment, already marked but devoid of dreams.

When we are ready, Oneness will come into the field with a new solution, even an extravagant one.

It will give birth to what we really are, at our best - within that chaos that solves real problems. And from wave to wave it will leap to Goal.

Away with the definitions and aspirations of nomenclature, in a kind of coming undone of ourselves - in a state of 'discharge' but full of potential energy - we will give space to the new Germ that knows best.

Already here and now our distinctive and unmistakable Plant wants to touch the divine condition.

Continuous prayer (incessant listening and perception) excavates and disposes of the volume of trivial redundant thoughts in this space.

Opportunities open up in this interstice and 'emptiness'. Inner cleansing is created so that the Gift - not second-hand - arrives.

Do we desire a decisive conversion? Do we desire the call to the totality of humanising existence, without limitations and in our uniqueness?

[Then divine action can reach anyone? Does it touch any face? And how does one not break it?].

Why not now the new beginning? Prayer and the 'new fullness' of the Spirit become for us - growing children - the milk of the soul.

This Sunday's Liturgy offers us a fundamental teaching: the need to pray always, without tiring. At times we grow weary of praying, we have the impression that prayer is not so useful for life, that it is not very effective. We are therefore tempted to throw ourselves into activity, to use all the human means for attaining our goals and we do not turn to God. Jesus himself says that it is necessary to pray always, and does so in a specific parable (cf. Lk 18: 1-8). 

This parable speaks to us of a judge who does not fear God and is no respecter of persons: a judge without a positive outlook, who only seeks his own interests. He neither fears God's judgement nor respects his neighbour. The other figure is a widow, a person in a situation of weakness. In the Bible, the widow and the orphan are the neediest categories, because they are defenceless and without means. The widow goes to the judge and asks him for justice. Her possibilities of being heard are almost none, because the judge despises her and she can bring no pressure to bear on him. She cannot even appeal to religious principles because the judge does not fear God. Therefore this widow seems without any recourse. But she insists, she asks tirelessly, importuning him, and in the end she succeeds in obtaining a result from the judge. At this point Jesus makes a reflection, using the argument a fortiori: if a dishonest judge ends by letting himself be convinced by a widow's plea, how much more will God, who is good, answer those who pray to him. God in fact is generosity in person, he is merciful and is therefore always disposed to listen to prayers. Therefore we must never despair but always persist in prayer. 

The conclusion of the Gospel passage speaks of faith: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Lk 18: 8). It is a question that intends to elicit an increase of faith on our part. Indeed it is clear that prayer must be an expression of faith, otherwise it is not true prayer. If one does not believe in God's goodness, one cannot pray in a truly appropriate manner.
Faith is essential as the basis of a prayerful attitude.

[Pope Benedict, homily for the canonisation of the blessed, 17 October 2010]

To all people of good will who feel a living and active part of the parish community, I say: do not tire of seeking all the opportunities that the Lord offers you to expand contacts and carry out that work of promotion based on truth, justice and respect for the person of others, which constitutes, for those who feel distant from the faith, the necessary preamble to the knowledge of Christ, which you are fortunate enough to profess with your life and with the practice of the sacraments of faith.

9. Be living praise of God in the eyes of those who seek the Lord, but have not yet found him. Repeat with the psalmist: "Praise, my soul, the Lord your Creator". Dear brothers and sisters! Learn to praise God; give glory to him on behalf of all creatures. Learn to do so in the spirit of the "poor widow" of today's liturgy, that the sacrifice of glory may find its evangelical "resonance" in the heart of Christ. Learn - again and again - to participate in the Eucharist so that your Christian life may mature and be enriched through "poverty in spirit".

[Pope John Paul II, homily 6 November 1988]

The Gospel parable which we have just heard (cf. Lk 18:1-8) contains an important teaching: we “ought always to pray and not lose heart” (v. 1). This means, then, pray constantly, not just when I feel like it. No, Jesus says that we ought “always to pray and not lose heart”. And he offers the example of the widow and the judge.

The judge is a powerful person, called to issue judgment on the basis of the Law of Moses. That is why the biblical tradition recommended that judges be people who fear God, who are worthy of faith, impartial and incorruptible (cf. Ex 18:21). However, this judge “neither feared God nor regarded man” (Lk 18:2). As a judge, he was unfair, unscrupulous, who did not take the Law into account but did whatever he wanted, according to his own interests. It was to him that a widow turned for justice. Widows, along with orphans and foreigners, were the most vulnerable groups of society. The rights afforded them by the Law could be easily disregarded because, being isolated and defenceless, they could hardly be assertive. A poor widow, there, alone, with no one to defend her, might be ignored, might even be denied justice. Just as the orphan, just as the foreigner, the migrant: in that time this was a very serious problem. Faced with the judge’s indifference, the widow has recourse to her only weapon: to bother him incessantly with her request for justice. And because of her insistence, she achieves her end. At a certain point, the judge grants her request, not because he is moved by mercy or because his conscience has been working on him; he simply admits: “because this widow bothers me, I will vindicate her, or she will wear me out by her continual coming” (v. 5).

From this parable Jesus draws two conclusions: if the widow could manage to bend the dishonest judge with her incessant requests, how much more will God, who is the good and just Father, “vindicate his elect, who cry to him day and night”; moreover, will not “delay long over them”, but will act “speedily” (vv. 7-8).

That is why Jesus urges us to pray and “not to lose heart”. We all go through times of tiredness and discouragement, especially when our prayers seem ineffective. But Jesus assures us: unlike the dishonest judge, God promptly answers his children, even though this doesn’t mean he will necessarily do it when and how we would like. Prayer does not work like a magic wand! It helps us keep faith in God, and to entrust ourselves to him even when we do not understand his will. In this, Jesus himself — who prayed constantly! — is our model. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that “In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to him [God] who was able to save him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear” (5:7). At first glance this statement seems far-fetched, because Jesus died on the Cross. Yet, the Letter to the Hebrews makes no mistake: God has indeed saved Jesus from death by giving him complete victory over it, but the path to that [victory] is through death itself! The supplication that God has answered referred to Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane. Assailed by looming anguish, Jesus prays to the Father to deliver him of this bitter cup of the Passion, but his prayer is pervaded by trust in the Father and he entrusts himself entirely to his will: “not as I will,” Jesus says, “but as thou wilt” (Mt 26:39). The object of prayer is of secondary importance; what matters above all is his relationship with the Father. This is what prayer does: it transforms the desire and models it according to the will of God, whatever that may be, because the one who prays aspires first of all to union with God, who is merciful Love.

The parable ends with a question: “when the Son of man comes, will he find faith on earth?” (v. 8). And with this question we are all warned: we must not cease to pray, even if left unanswered. It is prayer that conserves the faith, with out it faith falters! Let us ask the Lord for a faith that is incessant prayer, persevering, like that of the widow in the parable, a faith that nourishes our desire for his coming. And in prayer let us experience that compassion of God, who like a Father comes to encounter his children, full of merciful love.

[Pope Francis, General Audience 25 May 2016]