Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary  [15 August 2025]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us. For the Feast of the Assumption, I have prepared several texts because they are biblical passages that often recur in Marian feasts and therefore, I hope, may be useful for meetings, catechesis and meditation. I sincerely wish you all a holy and peaceful Feast of the Assumption of Mary.

 *First Reading from the Book of Revelation (11:19a; 12:1-6a, 10ab)

The first sentence we read is the conclusion of chapter 11 of Revelation, which heralds the end of time and God's victory over all the forces of evil, as already mentioned in verse 15: "Then loud voices in heaven said: 'Now the kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he will reign for ever and ever.'" To express this message of victory, as always in the Book of Revelation, St John uses numerous images: we have seen, in succession, the Ark of the Covenant and three characters: the woman, the dragon, and then the newborn child. The Ark of the Covenant recalls the famous ark, the golden wooden chest that accompanied the people during the Exodus on Mount Sinai and constantly reminded the people of Israel of their Covenant with God. In truth, the ark had disappeared at the time of the exile to Babylon; it was said that Jeremiah had hidden it somewhere on Mount Nebo (2 Maccabees 2:8) and it was believed that it would reappear at the coming of the Messiah. John sees it reappear: 'The temple of God in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant appeared in the temple' (11:19). This is the sign that the end of time has come: God's eternal covenant with humanity is finally fulfilled once and for all. Then appears "a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth". Who does this woman represent? The Old Testament gives us the key, because the relationship between God and Israel is often described in nuptial terms, as in Hosea (2:21-22), while Isaiah develops the theme of marriage to the point of presenting the coming of the Messiah as a birth, since it is from Israel that the Messiah must be born (66:7-8). The woman described here represents the chosen people who give birth to the Messiah: a painful birth for the persecuted disciples of Christ, to whom John says: you are giving birth to a new humanity. The second character is the dragon, placed in front of the woman to devour her newborn son, which indicates the struggle of the forces of evil against God's plan. For the persecuted Christians to whom the Apocalypse is addressed, the word 'dragon' is not an exaggeration, and the striking description reveals the violence that afflicts them: the dragon is enormous, fiery red, with seven heads and ten horns, and seven diadems on its heads. The heads and horns represent intelligence and power, the diadems indicate imperial power that shows a real capacity to harm by dragging a third of the stars of the sky and casting them down to earth. However, only a third, so it is not a real victory, and the rest of the text will say that the power of evil is only temporary. And here is the infant: 'The woman gave birth to a son, a male child, who is to rule all nations with an iron sceptre': this is clearly the Messiah and alludes to a phrase from Psalm 2: 'The Lord said to me, "You are my son, today I have begotten you. Ask of me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession. You will rule them with an iron sceptre' (Ps 2:7-9). 'The child was taken up to God and to the throne' symbolises the resurrection of Christ, whom Christians considered the Firstborn, now seated at the right hand of God. Christians live in a difficult world, but they are certain of God's protection: this is the meaning of the desert, which once again recalls the exodus, during which God never ceased to care for his people, and for this reason they can rest assured: if the dragon has failed in heaven, he cannot win on earth either. To the early Christians who were severely persecuted, the Apocalypse announces victory: "Now the salvation, the power and the kingdom of our God and the power of his Christ have come" (Rev 12:10).

Additional information  1. The liturgical reading does not include the end of Rev 11:19, but it is worth reading: the scene described (lightning, voices, thunder, earthquake) recalls the moment of the conclusion of the Covenant on Sinai. "Then there were flashes of lightning, voices, thunder, an earthquake and a heavy hailstorm" (Rev 11:19), to be compared with: "On the third day, in the morning, there were thunderclaps, flashes of lightning, a thick cloud on the mountain and a loud trumpet blast" (Ex 19:16). 

2. The Apocalypse is addressed to persecuted Christians to sustain them in their trials: its content, from beginning to end, is a message of victory; but everything is coded and must be deciphered. In fact, from the very first words, the author affirms that the dragon will not be able to hinder God's salvation. The prophecy of Balaam (Num 24:17) helps us to understand the iron sceptre of the Messiah. A later Christian reinterpretation applied the vision of the woman to the Virgin Mary, which is why the liturgy offers us this text on the feast of the Assumption of Mary, because she is the first to benefit from Christ's triumph. This struggle of the dragon against the woman recalls the account in Genesis: "I will put enmity between you and the woman, between your offspring and her offspring: he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel" (Gen 3:15). This text offers a beautiful definition of salvation: the power and kingship of our God (Rev 12:10).

*Responsorial Psalm (44/45:11-16)

Today we read only the second part of Psalm 44/45, which is addressed to the bride of the king of Jerusalem on her wedding day. The first part of the psalm speaks of the king himself, covered with praise for his virtues, who is promised a glorious kingdom and whom God himself has chosen. The second part, on the feast of the Assumption, addresses the young princess who is about to become the king's bride. On a first level, therefore, this psalm seems to describe a royal wedding: the king of Israel unites with a foreign princess to seal the alliance between two peoples, a frequent occurrence in Israel as elsewhere. Throughout human history, many political alliances have been sealed by marriages. But since the religion of Israel is an exclusive covenant with the one God, every young foreign woman who became queen in Jerusalem had to accept a special condition: she also had to marry the king's religion. Specifically, in this psalm, the princess who comes from Tyre — as we are told — and who is introduced to the court of the king of Israel, must renounce her idolatrous practices in order to be worthy of her new people and her husband: 'Listen, daughter, look, lend your ear: forget your people and your father's house'. This was a crucial issue at the time of King Solomon, who had married foreign women, and therefore pagans, and later, at the time of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel: we recall the great confrontation between the prophet Elijah and the numerous priests and prophets of Baal whom Jezebel had brought with her to the court of Samaria. But, for those who can read between the lines, this advice given to the princess of Tyre is actually addressed to Israel: the royal bridegroom described in the psalm is none other than God himself, and this "daughter of the king, all adorned for her husband" is the people of Israel admitted to intimacy with their God. Once again, we are struck by the boldness of the authors of the Old Testament in describing the relationship between God and his people, and, through them, with all humanity. The prophet Hosea was the first to compare Israel to a bride (Hos 2:16-18). After him, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, the second and third Isaiah developed the theme of the marriage between God and his people; and in their texts we find all the wedding vocabulary: affectionate names, the wedding dress, the wedding crown, fidelity (cf. Jer 2:2; Isa 62:5). Unfortunately, this bride, who was all too human, was often unfaithful, that is, idolatrous, and the prophets themselves defined the infidelities of the people as adultery, that is, as a return to idolatry. The language then becomes more precise: jealousy, adultery, prostitution, but also reconciliation and forgiveness, because God always remains faithful. Isaiah, for example, speaks of Israel's deviations as a disappointment in love in the famous song of the vineyard (Isaiah 5:1-7; 54:4-10). Idolatry occupies so much space in the prophets' discourses because the covenant between God and humanity, this plan of salvation, passes through Israel's faithfulness. Israel knows this: its election is not exclusive, but only by remaining faithful to the one God can it fulfil its vocation as witness to all nations. In Mary, the Bible dares to affirm that God has asked the whole of humanity to be his bride. By celebrating Mary's Assumption and her introduction into God's glory, we anticipate the entry of the whole of humanity, following in her footsteps, into intimacy with its God.

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (1 Cor 15:20-27a)

Today's liturgy offers us Paul's meditation on Christ's resurrection, in contrast to Adam's death. This gives us food for thought: what do Christ and Mary have in common? And what does Adam lack? The Gospel of the Visitation invites us to contemplate Mary as the one who believed and accepted God's plan without understanding everything. Her response to the Angel is a model for believers: "Let it be done to me according to your word (Lk 1:38), I am the handmaid of the Lord, ready to put my life at the service of God's work. In the Magnificat, Mary reveals her deepest concerns by re-reading her life in the light of God's great plan for his people, in favour of Abraham and his descendants forever, as he had promised to the fathers. From the beginning, in the Bible, it was understood that this is the only thing God asks of us: to be ready to say, 'Here I am'. Abraham, Moses, Samuel – called by God – knew how to respond in this way. And thanks to them, God's work was able to take a step forward each time. The New Testament offers Jesus Christ as an example who, in the story of the Temptations, responds to the seductions of the tempter with only words of faith. And if he teaches us to say, in the Our Father, 'Thy will be done', it is because this is his central thought, as he tells his disciples in the episode of the Samaritan woman: 'My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work' (Jn 4:34). In Gethsemane, he does not deny this: 'My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me! Nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will!' (Mt 26:39). And the author of the Letter to the Hebrews sums up the whole life of Jesus as follows: 'When Christ came into the world, he said, "Here I am, I have come to do your will' (Heb 10:5-10). If Jesus submits to the will of the Father at all times and in all circumstances, it is because he trusts. We could also say of him: 'Blessed are those who have believed...'. His resurrection shows that the way of faith is truly the way of life, even if it passes through physical death. In his letters to the Romans and the Corinthians, Paul contrasts Christ's behaviour with that of Adam: Adam is the one to whom everything was offered – the tree of life, dominion over creation – but he did not believe in God's benevolence, refusing to submit to his commandments. The apostle does not want to tell us what would have happened if Adam had not sinned, but he wants to remind us that there is only one way that leads to life and brings us into the joy of God. Adam turns his back on the tree of life when he begins to doubt God, and Paul says this in the present tense because, for him, Adam is not a man of the past but a way of being human.  As the rabbis observe: Everyone is Adam to himself. We can then better understand Paul's statement that in Adam all die, that is, by behaving like Adam, we distance ourselves from God and separate ourselves from the true life that He wants to give us in abundance. On the contrary, choosing the path of trust, as Christ did, at any cost, is to enter into true life: "Eternal life is that they know you, the only true God, and the one you have sent, Jesus Christ" (Jn 17:3). To know, in biblical language, means to believe, to love, to trust. Paul asserts that in Christ all will return to life by grafting themselves onto him, that is, by adopting his way of life. Today's feast of the Assumption of Mary helps us to contemplate the fulfilment of God's plan for man when it is not hindered. Mary, fully human, did not act like Adam and expresses the destiny that every human being would have had if there had been no fall of our first parents. Like every human being, she experienced ageing and one day left this life, falling asleep in the Lord: this is the 'Dormition' of the Virgin. We can therefore affirm two simple truths: our body is not designed to last forever as it is on earth, and Mary, all pure and full of grace, fell asleep. However, Adam hindered God's plan, and the transformation of the body that we could have known, that is, the Dormition, became death with its accompanying suffering and fragility because death, which causes us so much suffering, entered the world because of sin. But where the power of death entered, God gives life: Jesus is killed by the hatred of men, but the Father raises him up, the first of the risen, who brings us into true life, where love reigns. Elizabeth says to Mary: "Blessed is she who believed..."; Jesus applies this beatitude to all who believe: "My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and put it into practice" (Lk 8:21).

NOTE When the Risen One appeared to Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus, the kingship of Christ was revealed to him as a certainty, and this certainty would permeate all his words and thoughts because, for him, Christ, the conqueror of death, was also the conqueror of all the forces of evil, the Messiah awaited for centuries. For this reason, in all his letters we recognise expressions of the messianic expectation of the time: "Everything will be accomplished when Christ hands over the Kingdom to God the Father, after destroying all the powers of evil"; or "He must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet", as we read in Psalm 110 (109).

From the Gospel according to Luke (1:39-56)

After the accounts of the Annunciation to Zechariah concerning the birth of John the Baptist and to Mary concerning the birth of Jesus, there follows the episode of the "Visitation," which has the appearance of a family story, but we must not be deceived: in reality, Luke is writing a profoundly theological work. We must give full weight to the central phrase: 'Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud voice'. It is the Holy Spirit who speaks to announce, from the very beginning of the Gospel, what will be the great news of Luke's entire account: the one who has just been conceived is the Lord. Elizabeth proclaims: "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb": God is acting in you and through you, acting in the Son you are carrying in your womb and through him. As always, the Holy Spirit allows us to discover, in our lives and in the lives of others — of all others — the traces of God's work. Luke is certainly aware that Elizabeth's words, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb," echo at least in part a phrase from the Old Testament found in the Book of Judith (Jdt 13:18-19): when Judith returns from the enemy camp, where she has beheaded the general Holofernes, she is welcomed into her camp by Ozias, who says to her: "You are blessed among all women, and blessed is the Lord God." Mary is thus compared to Judith. And the parallel between the two phrases suggests two things: the repetition of the expression blessed among all women suggests that Mary is the victorious woman who guarantees humanity's definitive victory over evil; as for the final part (for Judith: blessed is the Lord God, for Mary: blessed is the fruit of your womb), it announces that the fruit of Mary's womb is the Lord himself. Therefore, this account by Luke is not a simple anecdote, and we can compare the power of Elizabeth's words with Zachariah's silence.  Filled with the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth has the strength to speak; Zechariah remains silent because he had doubted the words of the angel announcing the birth of John the Baptist. John the Baptist also expresses his joy: Elizabeth says that he 'leaped for joy' as soon as he heard Mary's voice, and he too is filled with the Holy Spirit, as the angel had announced to Zechariah: "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth... he will be filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother's womb." Elizabeth asks herself, "Why is this happening to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?" Here too there is a reference to an episode in the Old Testament: the arrival of the Ark of the Covenant in Jerusalem (2 Sam 6:2-11). After establishing himself as king in Jerusalem and building a palace worthy of the king of Israel, David decides to bring the Ark of the Covenant to the new capital. But he is torn between fervour and fear. At first, there is a joyful stage: "David gathered all the elite of Israel, thirty thousand men. He set out with all the people... to bring up the ark of God, on which the Name, the Name of the Lord of hosts who sits on the cherubim, is invoked..." But an accident occurs: a man who touches the ark without authorisation dies instantly. Fear then takes hold of David, who exclaims: "How can the ark of the Lord come to me?" The journey is interrupted: David prefers to leave the ark in the house of a certain Obed-Edom, where it remains for three months, bringing blessings upon that house. David reassures himself: "It was told to King David, 'The Lord has blessed the house of Obed-Edom and everything he has, because of the ark of God,'" and he brings the ark up to Jerusalem with great joy, dancing with all his might before the Lord. It is clear that Luke wanted to include many details in the story of the Visitation that recall this bringing up of the ark: the two journeys, that of the ark and that of Mary, take place in the same region, the mountains of Judea; the ark enters the house of Obed-Edom and brings blessings (2 Sam 6:12), Mary enters the house of Zechariah and Elizabeth and brings blessings; the ark remains with Obed-Edom for three months, Mary remains with Elizabeth for three months; David dances before the ark and John the Baptist leaps for joy before Mary. All this is not accidental. Luke invites us to contemplate in Mary the new Ark of the Covenant. And the ark was the place of God's Presence. Mary mysteriously carries this Presence of God within her: from now on, God dwells in our humanity. "The Word became flesh and dwelt among us." All this, thanks to Mary's faith: at Elizabeth's words, Mary sings the Magnificat.

NOTE ON THE MAGNIFICAT. In this page of Luke, we find many references to other biblical texts, and fragments of many psalms can be recognised in almost every sentence. This means that Mary did not invent the words of her prayer: to express her amazement at God's action, she simply takes up expressions already used by her ancestors in the faith. There is already a double lesson here: a lesson in humility, first of all. Faced with an exceptional situation, Mary simply uses the words of her people's prayer. Then there is a lesson in community spirit, we might say in synodal ecclesial spirit. None of the biblical quotations contained in the Magnificat have an individualistic character, but all concern the entire people. This is one of the great characteristics of biblical prayer, and therefore of Christian prayer: the believer never forgets that he belongs to a people and that every vocation, far from separating him, places him at the service of that people. As for the biblical roots of the Magnificat, it can be said that it is a re-reading of the entire history of salvation: God has done wonders throughout the ages and continues to act in the present.  A. In the past: He has looked upon the humility of his servant; He has done great things for Mary; He has shown the power of his arm; He has scattered the proud; He has brought down the mighty from their thrones; He has lifted up the lowly; He has filled the hungry with good things; He has sent the rich away empty-handed; He has come to the aid of Israel, his servant. B. In the present: Mary can proclaim, "All generations will call me blessed," and this is still true today. The Lord shows mercy from generation to generation. God's mercy is an ever-present reality for those who fear him, that is, for those who open themselves to his greatness. The Magnificat therefore teaches us to contemplate God's work throughout history, in the life of the people and in our own lives. Finally, the Magnificat is at the heart of Luke's theology: God overturns the order of things: the powerful are brought low, the humble are lifted up; the rich are emptied, the poor are filled. This 'turning upside down' is already present in the prophets (especially in Isaiah and the First Book of Samuel), but Luke places it at the centre of his Gospel, which is full of parables and stories in which God gives preference to the least, the little ones, sinners and the poor. This prayer is therefore profoundly revolutionary: not in the sense of a violent revolution, but of a spiritual and social revolution that passes through mercy, justice, humility, and faith.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Get closer without being submissive

(Mt 19:13-15)

«I prefer a Church which is bruised, hurting and dirty because it has been out on the streets, rather than a Church which is unhealthy from being confined and from clinging to its own security» [Evangelii Gaudium n.49].

We must not allow ourselves to be dragged along by the obvious dismissive sentences on legal impurity. According to Jesus, a useless, artificial weight; which curtails the wings and renders unhappy.

On the contrary, it’s always appropriate to acquire a different perception of the things of God in woman and man. And there is no need to be well trained in customary practices: young people are not.

What happened in the small churches of Galilee and Syria in the early 80s? Many pagans began to present themselves at the threshold of the  (Judaizing) communities and were becoming a majority.

Members of the chain of command valued the incipients poorly qualified from the point of view of the observance of the ‘fathers’ dispositions .

Some haughty veterans considered the new ones who asked to be welcomed, like servants still murky [«paidìa»: age 9-11 years], contaminated and “mixed”.

At that time, in the conditions in which they lived, the boys certainly did not fulfill the laws of religious purity; but they served others, both at home and at work.

In short, Jesus proposes a paradigm change to the Apostles.

Make peace with the world of judgments.

The proposal seemed absurd to religions (all pyramidal), not for the person of Faith who proceeds on the Way, in the Spirit.

God does not believe at all that his holiness is endangered by contact with the normal realities of this world.

Indeed, the Lord and Master identifies himself precisely with the little boys of shop and house, with the "polluted" beings, socially null and badly valued.

This is to say: the disciple of the Kingdom cannot afford to disavow the needs of others.

Enough with clichés, nomenclatures, double standards and recognized procedures.

What matters is the concrete good of the real person, as her/he is.

The acceptance of little sons - that is, of those who are at the beginning - in their condition of creative and affective integrity, still considered ambiguous and transgressive, is an icon of a social, religious and inverted class logic; radically not homologable.

So woe to those who prevent the insignificants from going to the Lord!

The laying on of hands on them (vv.13.15) is a sign of redemption, enhancement, emancipation and promotion of the condition of the last, excluded, irrelevant, holdless and ‘mestizo’ [not pictures of candor].

Whoever welcomes a privileged man, a legalist, one who has made his way but doesn’t accept changes, hardly welcomes Jesus.

«In the synodal process […] it must not neglect all those “intuitions” found where we would least expect them, “freewheeling”, but no less important for that reason».

Only the unknown and uncertain must be placed at the center of the new Church that we will have to build.

[Saturday 19th wk. in O.T.  August 16, 2025]

Approach without being submissive

(Mt 19:13-15)

Pope Francis has often reiterated: "I would rather have a Church that has crashed than a Church that is sick from closure. Not a 'comfort zone', but a 'field hospital' involved in our hopes, even wounded - not absent, not detached.

In the apostolic exhortation Evangelii Gaudium (49): 'I prefer a Church that is bumpy, wounded and dirty from being out on the streets, rather than a Church that is sick from closure and the comfort of clinging to its own security'.

In short, in the words of the Gospel of Matthew, one must not get carried away by the obvious dismissive judgments about legal impurity. According to Jesus, a useless, artificial burden; one that clips one's wings and makes one unhappy.

On the contrary, it is always good to acquire a different perception of the things of God in man. And it is not necessary to be well trained in customary practices.

What was happening in the small churches of Galilee and Syria in the early 1980s? Many pagans were beginning to show up at the doorsteps of the (Judaizing) communities and were becoming a majority.

The members of the chain of command prevented the distant and incipient from the immediacy of a face-to-face relationship with the Lord - evaluating them as unqualified from the point of view of observing the provisions of the 'fathers'.

Some haughty veterans regarded the newcomers who asked to be received as still turbid servants ["paidìa": age 9-11], defiled and mixed.

At that time, in the conditions in which they lived, young boys certainly did not fulfil the laws of religious purity; but they served others, both at home and at work.

In short, Jesus proposes a paradigm shift to the Apostles.

Stooping? An unbearable model of life for the ambitious veterans who frequently surrounded the Master - but struggled to follow his vital teaching.

The freedom to get off the board - vice versa - was a human figure to be chiselled as the 'model' of the authentic disciple, who reflects Christ and 'conquers' the Kingdom.

Making peace with the world of judgements.

The proposal seemed an absurdity for religions (all pyramidal), not for the person of Faith who proceeds on the Way, in the Spirit.

God does not at all believe that His holiness is endangered by contact with the normal realities of this world.

On the contrary, the Lord and Master identifies Himself precisely with the garzoncini of shop and home, with the 'polluted', socially null and misjudged beings [by any legalistic clique, however devout].

This is to say: the disciple of the Kingdom cannot afford to disregard the life needs of others.

Forget clichés, nomenclature, duplicity and recognised procedures.

What counts is the concrete good of the real person, just as he or she is.

The acceptance of children - i.e. those who are at the beginning - in their condition of creative and affective integrity, still considered ambiguous and transgressive, is an icon of an inverted social, religious and class logic; radically unequal.

So woe to those who prevent the insignificant from going to the Lord!

The laying on of hands on them (vv.13.15) is a sign of redemption, valorisation, emancipation, and promotion of the condition of the last, the excluded, the mocked, the destitute, and the 'mestizos' [not of squares all clarity and whiteness].

Those who welcome a privileged, an observant purist, one who has made his way but does not accept change (a dummy often of good manners and bad habits) hardly welcome Jesus.

In fact, and today's chronicle itself is full of bitter surprises, the directors - so mediocre - who select (v.13) and make adultids are selfish and dangerous big babies, not 'children'.

Only the misunderstood and uncertain are to be placed at the centre of the new Church we are to build.

To internalise and live the message:

Are there any vital aspects of you that you had to tarnish in order to be welcomed into the community?

The Fickleness without Citizenship

In the synodal journey, listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not neglect all those "presentiments" embodied where we would not expect it: there may be a "sniff without citizenship", but it is no less effective. The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries, nor does he allow himself to be limited by affiliations. If the parish is the home of everyone in the neighbourhood, not an exclusive club, I recommend: leave doors and windows open, do not limit yourself to considering only those who attend or think like you - that will be 3, 4 or 5%, no more. Allow everyone to come in... Allow yourself to go out and let yourself be questioned, let their questions be your questions, allow yourself to walk together: the Spirit will lead you, trust the Spirit. Do not be afraid to enter into dialogue and allow yourselves to be moved by the dialogue: it is the dialogue of salvation.Do not be disenchanted, be prepared for surprises. There is an episode in the book of Numbers (ch. 22) that tells of a donkey who will become a prophetess of God. The Jews are concluding the long journey that will lead them to the promised land. Their passage frightens King Balak of Moab, who relies on the powers of the magician Balaam to stop the people, hoping to avoid a war. The magician, in his believing way, asks God what to do. God tells him not to humour the king, but he insists, so he relents and mounts a donkey to fulfil the command he has received. But the donkey changes course because it sees an angel with an unsheathed sword standing there to represent God's opposition. Balaam pulls her, beating her, without succeeding in getting her back on the path. Until the donkey starts talking, initiating a dialogue that will open the magician's eyes, transforming his mission of curse and death into a mission of blessing and life.

This story teaches us to trust that the Spirit will always make its voice heard. Even a donkey can become the voice of God, opening our eyes and converting our wrong directions. If a donkey can do it, how much more so can a baptised person, a priest, a bishop, a pope. It is enough to entrust ourselves to the Holy Spirit who uses all creatures to speak to us: he only asks us to clean our ears to hear properly.

(Pope Francis, Speech 18 September 2021)

68. Christ Jesus always manifested his preferential love for the little ones (cf. Mk 10:13-16). The Gospel itself is deeply permeated by the truth about children. What, indeed, is meant by these words: “unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 18:3)? Does not Jesus make the child a model, even for adults? The child has something which must never be lacking in those who would enter the kingdom of heaven. Heaven is promised to all who are simple, like children, to all who, like them, are filled with a spirit of trusting abandonment, pure and rich in goodness. They alone can find in God a Father and become, through Jesus, children of God. Sons and daughters of our parents, God wants us all to become his adopted children by grace!

[Pope Benedict, Africae munus]

Dear Children!

Jesus brings the Truth

The Child whom we see in the manger at Christmas grew up as the years passed. When he was twelve years old, as you know, he went for the first time with Mary and Joseph from Nazareth to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover. There, in the crowds of pilgrims, he was separated from his parents and, with other boys and girls of his own age, he stopped to listen to the teachers in the Temple, for a sort of "catechism lesson". The holidays were good opportunities for handing on the faith to children who were about the same age as Jesus. But on this occasion it happened that this extraordinary boy who had come from Nazareth not only asked very intelligent questions but also started to give profound answers to those who were teaching him. The questions and even more the answers astonished the Temple teachers. It was the same amazement which later on would mark Jesus' public preaching. The episode in the Temple of Jerusalem was simply the beginning and a kind of foreshadowing of what would happen some years later.

Dear boys and girls who are the same age as the twelve-year-old Jesus, are you not reminded now of the religion lessons in the parish and at school, lessons which you are invited to take part in? So I would like to ask you some questions: What do you think of your religion lessons? Do you become involved like the twelve-year-old Jesus in the Temple? Do you regularly go to these lessons at school and in the parish? Do your parents help you to do so?

The twelve-year-old Jesus became so interested in the religion lesson in the Temple of Jerusalem that, in a sense, he even forgot about his own parents. Mary and Joseph, having started off on the journey back to Nazareth with other pilgrims, soon realized that Jesus was not with them. They searched hard for him. They went back and only on the third day did they find him in Jerusalem, in the Temple. "Son, why have you treated us so? Behold, your father and I have been looking for you anxiously" (Lk 2:48). How strange is Jesus' answer and how it makes us stop and think! "How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" (Lk 2:49). It was an answer difficult to accept. The evangelist Luke simply adds that Mary "kept all these things in her heart" (2:51). In fact, it was an answer which would be understood only later, when Jesus, as a grown-up, began to preach and say that for his Heavenly Father he was ready to face any sufferings and even death on the cross.

From Jerusalem Jesus went back with Mary and Joseph to Nazareth where he was obedient to them (Lk 2:51). Regarding this period, before his public preaching began, the Gospel notes only that he "increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favour with God and man" (Lk 2:52).

Dear children, in the Child whom you look at in the Crib you must try to see also the twelve-year-old boy in the Temple in Jerusalem, talking with the teachers. He is the same grown man who later, at thirty years old, will begin to preach the word of God, will choose the Twelve Apostles, will be followed by crowds thirsting for the truth. At every step he will confirm his extraordinary teaching with signs of divine power: he will give sight to the blind, heal the sick, even raise the dead. And among the dead whom he will bring back to life there will be the twelve-year-old daughter of Jairus, and the son of the widow of Naim, given back alive to his weeping mother.

It is really true: this Child, now just born, once he is grown up, as Teacher of divine Truth, will show an extraordinary love for children. He will say to the Apostles: "Let the children come to me, do not hinder them", and he will add: "for to such belongs the kingdom of God" (Mk 10:14). Another time, as the Apostles are arguing about who is the greatest, he will put a child in front of them and say: "Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 18:3). On that occasion, he also spoke harsh words of warning: "Whoever causes one of these little ones who believes in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened round his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea" (Mt 18:6).

How important children are in the eyes of Jesus! We could even say that the Gospel is full of the truth about children. The whole of the Gospel could actually be read as the "Gospel of children".

What does it mean that "unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven"? Is not Jesus pointing to children as models even for grown-ups? In children there is something that must never be missing in people who want to enter the kingdom of heaven. People who are destined to go to heaven are simple like children, and like children are full of trust, rich in goodness and pure. Only people of this sort can find in God a Father and, thanks to Jesus, can become in their own turn children of God.

From the Vatican, 13 December 1994.

[Pope John Paul II, Letter to the Children in the Year of the Family] From the Vatican, 13 December 1994.

As you are aware, we are about to begin a synodal process, a journey on which the whole Church will reflect on the theme: Towards a Synodal Church: Communion, Participation, Mission: those three pillars. Three phases are planned, and will take place between October 2021 and October 2023. This process was conceived as an exercise in mutual listening. I want to emphasize this. It is an exercise of mutual listening, conducted at all levels of the Church and involving the entire People of God. The Cardinal Vicar, the auxiliary bishops, priests, religious and laity have to listen to one another, and then to everyone else. Listening, speaking and listening. It is not about garnering opinions, not a survey, but a matter of listening to the Holy Spirit, as we read in the book of Revelation: “Whoever has ears should listen to what the Spirit says to the churches” (2:7). To have ears, to listen, is the first thing we need to do. To hear God’s voice, to sense his presence, to witness his passage and his breath of life.

Thus the prophet Elijah came to realize that God is always a God of surprises, even in the way he passes by and makes himself felt: “A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks… but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake – but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, there was fire – but the Lord was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak” (1 Kg 19:11-13).

That is how God speaks to us. We need to open our ears to hear that tiny whispering sound, the gentle breeze of God, which scholars also translate as “a quiet whisper” or “a small, still voice”.

The first step of the process (October 2021–April 2022) will take place in each diocese. That why I am here, as your bishop, for this moment of sharing, because it is very important that the Diocese of Rome be committed to this process. Wouldn’t it look bad if the Pope’s own diocese was not committed to this? Yes, it would look bad, for the Pope, but also for you!

Synodality is not a chapter in an ecclesiology textbook, much less a fad or a slogan to be bandied about in our meetings. Synodality is an expression of the Church’s nature, her form, style and mission. We can talk about the Church as being “synodal”, without reducing that word to yet another description or definition of the Church. I say this not as a theological opinion or even my own thinking, but based on what can be considered the first and most important “manual” of ecclesiology: the Acts of the Apostles.

The word “synod” says it all: it means “journeying together”. The Book of Acts is the story of a journey that started in Jerusalem, passed through Samaria and Judea, then on to the regions of Syria, Asia Minor, Greece, ending up in Rome. A journey that reveals how God’s word, and the people who heed and put their faith in that word, journey together. The word of God journeys with us. Everyone has a part to play; no one is a mere extra. This is important: everyone has a part to play. The Pope, the Cardinal Vicar and the auxiliary bishops are not more important than the others; no, all of us have a part to play and no one can be considered simply as an extra. At that time, the ministries were clearly seen as forms of service. Authority derived from listening to the voice of God and of the people, inseparably. This kept those who received it humble, serving the lowly with faith and love. Yet that story, that journey, was not merely geographical, it was also marked by a constant inner restlessness. This is essential: if Christians do not feel a deep inner restlessness, then something is missing. That inner restlessness is born of faith; it impels us to consider what it is best to do, what needs to be preserved or changed. History teaches us that it is not good for the Church to stand still (cf. Evangelii Gaudium, 23). Movement is the fruit of docility to the Holy Spirit, who directs this history, in which all have a part to play, in which all are restless, never standing still.

Peter and Paul were not just two individuals with their own personalities. They represent two visions within much broader horizons. They were capable of reassessing things in the light of events, witnesses of an impulse that led them to stop and think – that is another expression we should remember: to stop and think. An impulse that drove them to be daring, to question, to change their minds, to make mistakes and learn from those mistakes, but above all to hope in spite of every difficulty. They were disciples of the Holy Spirit, who showed them the geography of salvation, opening doors and windows, breaking down walls, shattering chains and opening frontiers. This may mean setting out, changing course, leaving behind certain ideas that hold us back and prevent us from setting out and walking together.

We can see the Spirit driving Peter to go to the house of Cornelius, the pagan centurion, despite his qualms. Remember: Peter had had a disturbing vision in which he was told to eat things he considered impure. He was troubled, despite the assurance that what God has made clean should no longer be considered impure. While he was trying to grasp the significance of this vision, some men sent by Cornelius arrived. Cornelius too had received a vision and a message. He was a pious Roman official, sympathetic to Judaism, but not enough to be fully Jewish or Christian; he would not have made it past a religious “customs office”. Cornelius was a pagan, yet he was told that his prayers were heard by God and that he should send and ask Peter to come to his house. At this point, with Peter and his doubts, and Cornelius uncertain and confused, the Spirit overcomes Peter’s resistance and opens a new chapter of missionary history. That is how the Spirit works. In the meeting between those two men, we hear one of the most beautiful phrases of Christianity. Cornelius meets Peter and falls at his feet, but Peter, picking him up, tells him: “Get up. I too am a man” (Acts 10:26). All of us can say the same thing: “I am a man, I am a woman; we are all human”. This is something we should all say, bishops too, all of us: “Get up. I too am a man”.

The text also says that Peter conversed with Cornelius (cf. v. 27). Christianity should always be human and accessible, reconciling differences and distances, turning them into familiarity and proximity. One of the ills of the Church, indeed a perversion, is the clericalism that detaches priests and bishops from people, making them officials, not pastors. Saint Paul VI liked to quote the words of Terence: “I am a man: I regard nothing human as foreign to me”. The encounter between Peter and Cornelius resolved a problem; it helped bring about the decision to preach directly to the pagans, in the conviction that – as Peter put it – “God shows no partiality” (Acts 10:34). There can be no discrimination in the name of God. Discrimination is a sin among us too, whenever we start to say: “We are the pure, we are the elect, we belong to this movement that knows everything, we are...” No! We are the Church, all of us together.

You see, we cannot understand what it means to be “catholic” without thinking of this large, open and welcoming expanse. Being Church is a path to enter into this broad embrace of God. To return to the Acts of the Apostles, we see the emerging problem of how to organize the growing number of Christians, and particularly how to provide for the needs of the poor. Some were saying that their widows were being neglected. The solution was found by assembling the disciples and determining together that seven men would be appointed full time for diakonia, to serve the tables (Acts 6:1-7). In this way, though service, the Church advanced, journeyed together, was “synodal”, accompanied by discernment, amid the felt needs and realities of life and in the power of the Spirit. The Spirit is always the great “protagonist” of the Church’s life.

There was also the clash of differing visions and expectations. We need not be afraid when the same thing happens today. Would that we could argue like that! Arguments are a sign of docility and openness to the Spirit. Serious conflicts can also take place, as was the case with the issue of circumcision for pagan converts, which was settled with the deliberation of the so-called Council of Jerusalem, the first Council. Today too, there can be a rigid way of looking at things, one that restricts God’s makrothymía, his patient, profound, broad and farsighted way of seeing things. God sees into the distance; God is not in a hurry. Rigidity is another perversion, a sin against the patience of God, a sin against God’s sovereignty. Today too.

So it was back then. Some converts from Judaism, in their self-absorption, maintained that there could be no salvation without submission to the Law of Moses. In this way, they opposed Paul, who proclaimed salvation directly in the name of Jesus. This opposition would have compromised the reception of the new pagan converts. Paul and Barnabas were sent to Jerusalem, to the Apostles and the elders. It was not easy: in discussing this problem, the arguments appeared irreconcilable; they debated at length. It was a matter of recognizing God’s freedom of action, that no obstacles could prevent him from touching the hearts of people of any moral or religious background. The situation was resolved when they accepted the evidence that “God, who knows the heart” – as a good “cardiologist” – was on the side of the pagans being admitted to salvation, since he “gave them the Holy Spirit just as he did to us” (Acts 15:8). In this way, respect was shown for the sensibilities of all and excesses were tempered. They learned from Peter’s experience with Cornelius. Indeed, the final “document” presents the Spirit as the protagonist in the process of decision-making and reflects the wisdom that he is always capable of inspiring: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to place on you any burden beyond these necessary things” (Acts 15:28).

“… and to us”. In this Synod, we want to get to the point where we can say, “it seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”, for, guided by the Holy Spirit, you will be in constant dialogue among yourselves, but also in dialogue with the Holy Spirit. Remember those words: “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to place on you any burden…” “It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us”. That is how you should try to discuss things at every stage of this synodal process. Without the Holy Spirit, this will be a kind of diocesan parliament, but not a Synod. We are not holding a diocesan parliament, examining this or that question, but making a journey of listening to one another and to the Holy Spirit, discussing yes, but discussing with the Holy Spirit, which is a way of praying.

“To the Holy Spirit and to us”. Still, it is always tempting to do things on our own, in an “ecclesiology of substitution”, which can take many forms. As if, once ascended to heaven, the Lord had left a void needing to be filled, and we ourselves have to fill it. No, the Lord has left us the Spirit! Jesus’ words are very clear: “I will pray to the Father and he will give you another Paraclete, to stay with you forever… I will not leave you orphans” (Jn 14:16.18). In fulfilment of this promise, the Church is a sacrament, as we read in Lumen Gentium, 1: “The Church, in Christ, is like a sacrament – a sign and instrument of communion with God and of the unity of the whole human race”. That sentence, which echoes the testimony of the Council of Jerusalem, contradicts those who would take God’s place, presuming to shape the Church on the basis of their own cultural and historical convictions, forcing it to set up armed borders, toll booths, forms of spirituality that blaspheme the gratuitousness of God’s involvement in our lives. When the Church is a witness, in word and deed, of God’s unconditional love, of his welcoming embrace, she authentically expresses her catholicity. And she is impelled, from within and without, to be present in every time and place. That impulse and ability are the Spirit’s gift: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (Acts 1:8). To receive the power of the Holy Spirit to become witnesses: this is our path as Church, and we will be Church if we take this path.

Being a synodal Church means being a Church that is the sacrament of Christ’s promise that the Spirit will always be with us. We show this by growing in our relationship with the Spirit and the world to come. There will always be disagreements, thank God, but solutions have to be sought by listening to God and to the ways he speaks in in our midst. By praying and opening our eyes to everything around us; by practicing a life of fidelity to the Gospel; by seeking answers in God’s revelation through a pilgrim hermeneutic capable of persevering in the journey begun in the Acts of the Apostles. This is important: the way to understand and interpret is through a pilgrim hermeneutic, one that is always journeying. The journey that began after the Council? No. The journey that began with the first Apostles and has continued ever since. Once the Church stops, she is no longer Church, but a lovely pious association, for she keeps the Holy Spirit in a cage. A pilgrim hermeneutic capable of persevering in the journey begun in the Acts of the Apostles. Otherwise, the Holy Spirit would be demeaned. Gustav Mahler – as I have said on other occasions – once stated that fidelity to tradition does not consist in worshiping ashes but in keeping a fire burning. As you begin this synodal journey, I ask you: what are you more inclined to do: guard the ashes of the Church, in other words, your association or group, or keep the fire burning? Are you more inclined to worship what you cherish, and which keep you self-enclosed – “I belong to Peter, I belong to Paul, I belong to this association, you to that one, I am a priest, I am a bishop…” – or do you feel called to keep the fire of the Spirit burning? Mahler was a great composer, but those words showed that he was also a teacher of wisdom. Dei Verbum (no. 8), citing the Letter to the Hebrews, tells us that “God, who spoke in partial and various ways to our fathers (Heb 1:1), uninterruptedly converses with the bride of his beloved Son”. Saint Vincent of Lérins aptly compared human growth to the development of the Church’s Tradition, which is passed on from one generation to the next. He tells us that “the deposit of faith” cannot be preserved without making it advance in such a way as “to be consolidated by years, enlarged by time, refined by age” (Commonitorium primum, 23: ut annis consolidetur, dilatetur tempore, sublimetur aetate). This is how our own journey should be. For reality, including theology, is like water; unless it keeps flowing, it becomes stagnant and putrefies. A stagnant Church starts to decay.

You see, then, how our Tradition is like a mass of leavened dough; we can see it growing and in that growth is communion: journeying together brings about true communion. Here too, the Acts of the Apostles can help us by showing us that communion does not suppress differences. It is the wonder of Pentecost, where different languages are not obstacles; by the working of the Holy Spirit, “each one heard them speaking in his own language” (Acts 2:8). Feeling at home, different but together on the same journey. [Pardon me for speaking so long, but the Synod is a serious matter, and so I have felt free to speak at length...]

To return to the synodal process, the diocesan phase is very important, since it involves listening to all the baptized, the subject of the infallible sensus fidei in credendo. There is a certain resistance to moving beyond the image of a Church rigidly divided into leaders and followers, those who teach and those who are taught; we forget that God likes to overturn things: as Mary said, “he has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly” (Lk 1:52). Journeying together tends to be more horizontal than vertical; a synodal Church clears the horizon where Christ, our sun, rises, while erecting monuments to hierarchy covers it. Shepherds walk with their people: we shepherds walk with our people, at times in front, at times in the middle, at times behind. A good shepherd should move that way: in front to lead, in the middle to encourage and preserve the smell of the flock, and behind, since the people too have their own “sense of smell”. They have a nose for finding new paths for the journey, or for finding the road when the way is lost. I want to emphasize this, also for the bishops and priests of the diocese. In this synodal process, they should ask: “Am I capable of walking, of moving, in front, in between and behind, or do I remain seated in my chair, with mitre and crozier?” Shepherds in the midst of the flock, yet remaining shepherds, not the flock. The flock knows we are shepherds, the flock knows the difference. In front to show the way, in the middle to sense how people feel, behind to help the stragglers, letting the people sniff out where the best pastures are found.

The sensus fidei gives everyone a share in the dignity of the prophetic office of Christ (cf. Lumen Gentium, 34-35), so that they can discern the paths of the Gospel in the present time. It is the “sense of smell” proper to the sheep, but let us be careful: in the history of salvation, we are all sheep with regard to the Shepherd who is the Lord. The image (of sheep) helps us understand the two dimensions that contribute to this “sense of smell”. One is individual and the other communitarian: we are sheep, yet we are also members of the flock, which in this case means the Church. These days, in the Office of Readings, we are reading from Augustine’s sermon on pastors, where he tells us, “with you I am a sheep; for you I am a shepherd”. These two aspects, individual and ecclesial, are inseparable: there can be no sensus fidei without sharing in the life of the Church, which is more than mere Catholic activism; it must above all be that “sense” that is nourished by the “mind of Christ” (Phil 2:5).

The exercise of the sensus fidei cannot be reduced to the communication and comparison of our own opinions on this or that issue, or a single aspect of the Church’s teaching or discipline. No, those are instruments, verbalizations, dogmatic or disciplinary statements. The idea of distinguishing between majorities and minorities must not prevail: that is what parliaments do. How many times have those who were “rejected” become “the cornerstone” (cf. Ps 118:22; Mt 21:42), while those who were “far away” have drawn “near” (Eph 2:13). The marginalized, the poor, the hopeless were chosen to be a sacrament of Christ (cf. Mt 25:31-46). The Church is like that. And whenever some groups wanted to stand out more, those groups always ended badly, even denying salvation, in heresies. We can think of the heresies that claimed to lead the Church forward, like Pelagianism, and then Jansenism. Every heresy ended badly. Gnosticism and Pelagianism are constant temptations for the Church. We are so rightly concerned for the dignity of our liturgical celebrations, but we can easily end up simply becoming complacent. Saint John Chrysostom warns us: “Do you want to honour the body of Christ? Do not allow it to be despised in its members, that is, in the poor who lack clothes to cover themselves. Do not honour him here in the church with rich fabrics while outside you neglect him when he is suffering from cold and naked. The one who said, “this is my body”, confirming the fact with his word, also said, “you saw me hungry and you did not feed me” and, “whenever you failed to do these things to one of the least of these, you failed to do it to me” (Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew, 50, 3). You may say to me: “Father, what do you mean? Are the poor, the beggars, young drug addicts, all those people that society discards, part of the Synod too?”

Yes, dear friends. It is not me who is saying this, but the Lord. They too are part of the Church, and you will not properly celebrate the Synod unless you somehow make them part of it (in a way to be determined), or spend time with them, not only listening to what they have to say, but also feeling what they feel, listening to them even if they may insult you. The Synod is for everyone, and it is meant to include everyone. The Synod is also about discussing our problems, the problems I have as your Bishop, the problems that the auxiliary Bishops have, the problems that priests and laity have, the problems that groups and associations have. So many problems! Yet unless we include the “problem people” of society, those left out, we will never be able to deal with our own problems. This is important: that we let our own problems come out in the dialogue, without trying to hide them or justify them. Do not be afraid!

We should feel ourselves part of one great people which has received God’s promises. Those promises speak of a future in which all are invited to partake of the banquet God has prepared for every people (cf. Is 25:6). Here I would note that even the notion “People of God” can be interpreted in a rigid and divisive way, in terms of exclusivity and privilege; that was the case with the notion of divine “election”, which the prophets had to correct, showing how it should rightly be understood. Being God’s people is not a privilege but a gift that we receive, not for ourselves but for everyone. The gift we receive is meant to be given in turn. That is what vocation is: a gift we receive for others, for everyone. A gift that is also a responsibility. The responsibility of witnessing by our deeds, not just our words, to God’s wonderful works, which, once known, help people to acknowledge his existence and to receive his salvation. Election is a gift. The question is this: if I am a Christian, if I believe in Christ, how do I give that gift to others? God’s universal saving will is offered to history, to all humanity, through the incarnation of his Son, so that all men and women can become his children, brothers and sisters among themselves, thanks to the mediation of the Church. That is how universal reconciliation is accomplished between God and humanity, that unity of the whole human family, of which the Church is a sign and instrument (cf. Lumen Gentium, 1). In the period prior to the Second Vatican Council, thanks to the study of the Fathers of the Church, there was a renewed realization that the people of God is directed towards the coming of the Kingdom, towards the unity of the human family created and loved by God. The Church, as we know and experience her in the apostolic succession, should be conscious of her relationship to this universal divine election and carry out her mission in its light. In that same spirit, I wrote my encyclical Fratelli Tutti. As Saint Paul VI said, the Church is a teacher of humanity, and today she aims at becoming a school of fraternity.

Why do I say these things? Because in the synodal process, our listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not neglect all those “intuitions” found where we would least expect them, “freewheeling”, but no less important for that reason. The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries or tests of admission. If the parish is to be a home to everyone in the neighbourhood, and not a kind of exclusive club, please, let’s keep the doors and windows open. Don’t limit yourself to those who come to church or think as you do – they may be no more than 3, 4 or 5 percent. Let everyone come in… Go out and meet them, let them question you, let their questions become your questions. Journey together: the Spirit will lead you; trust in the Spirit. Do not be afraid to engage in dialogue and even to be taken aback by what you hear, for this is the dialogue of salvation.

Don’t be disheartened; be prepared for surprises. In the book of Numbers (22:8ff.) we hear of a donkey who became a prophet of God. The Hebrews were about to end the long journey that led them to the promised land. Their passage through his territory frightened Balak, the king of Moab, who told Balaam, a seer, to stop them, in hopes of avoiding a war. Balaam, who was in his own way a believer, asked God what to do. God told him not to go along with the king, but since the king insisted, Balaam set out on a donkey to do as the king said. The donkey, however, turned aside from the road because it saw an angel with an unsheathed sword, representing the opposition of God. Balaam tugged at the reins and beat the donkey, but could not get it to return to the road. Finally, the donkey opened his mouth and spoke, the beginning of a dialogue that would open the seer’s eyes and turn his mission of cursing and death into a mission of blessing and life.

This story teaches us to trust that the Spirit will always make his voice heard. Even a donkey can become the voice of God, can open our eyes and change our course when we go astray. If a donkey can do that, how much more can a baptized person, a priest, a bishop, a Pope do it? We need but rely on the Holy Spirit, who uses all of creation to speak to us: he only asks us to clean out our ears, to hear better.

[Pope Francis, Address to the Diocese of Rome, 18 September 2021]

The itinerary of the creature (and of the Church) that realizes in itself the victory of Life over death

Mary is an icon of how to find the right path, from which the events of life can step us away or take us away.

Emblem of those who are on their own conformal story in person, Gem of comparison so as not to betray our identity-vocational character and innate disposition.

Like her however giving in; nevertheless, changing. And thus realizing our true nature, in the pilgrimage towards the Core of being - because present to things, in the different ways of taking field in the world, clearly.

Her soul possessed a youthful freshness, an ability to approach herself without however losing the scope of the comparisons: in noticing, living of every Gift.

Whoever follows her style embraces and adores the unexpected, and when the Novelty of the Spirit breaks in, the heart immediately makes room for it.

The attitude of his soul did not turn to the banal repetition: amazed by a Word, stunned by the Unexpected, surprised by a Wound.

Itinerant, she taught to open the will and mind to new paths that not only dodged but even flew over the preponderant of conditionings.

She spontaneously activated flows of possibilities that put so many habits behind, without even fighting them.

Mary disposed herself to grasp the variations, the nuances of the soul; even the unusual feelings that maybe we repudise to attribute to her and that instead she felt. Sometimes even getting lost in the labyrinths of a frightening epochal struggle with the «dragon», the ideology of power.

A full life, as a family mother, not as an incorporeal creature that withdraws, and only modest.

Nothing naive and enslaved. Free woman, Mary leaves without asking for authorization of the delayed, hierarchical and still patriarchal society.

And she does not associate herself with reassuring caravans, because she’s not a person of a pack but of novelty.

She didn’t walk along the Jordan, which was the most travelled and safest road. But why to risk life in hostile land? Because love knows no obstacle.

And exuberance doesn’t repeat conformity. Life flowing from Galilee to Judaea, that is, from the periphery to the center.

So she agreed to make cohabit in herself and make the variegated situations coexistent with the facets of the many appeals, the afflatus of the care and the spirit of decision - as an emancipated person.

As today’s Liturgy expresses, the Woman accepted the Desert but found a Refuge, «forgetting her people and her father’s house».

Solidarity, Sobriety, Silence: the experience of the Exodus. Novelty, Fraternity and Person’s Horizon: that allow the rediscovery of one’s own ‘seed’ - and the sense of the Church.

Mary is a sign of the paradoxical existence of the believer, who knows his baseness and the Unpredictable of God: in her travel we recognize the ideal path of our journey.

We cannot ignore that in the world sometimes strength prevails over weakness, need makes love pale, decline seems to ridicule life...

But in the dialectic of losing ourselves in order to find ourselves, we introduce new energies; like Her, we acquire an ability to see the graves wide open, grasping life even in places of death.

In this way, Lk is the evangelist who celebrates the reversals of the situations [pharisee and tax collector, first and last place, unruly son and firstborn, so on].

In such reverses Life in the Spirit does not manifest itself as a reply that reassures or sacralizes positions, but as an attitude to gain in loss; a flowering, in the bitterness of the cross.

Knowing how to find opportunities for growth even in the apparent degradation.

And in us? The redefinition of what is "deal or humiliation" can become redeemed history, the authentic disruptive force in the course of events, and of any situation.

In the defenceless and incapable of miracle there is in fact the perception of a power that knows how to recover the whole being. Virtue that reassembles the harmony of the vital wave.

Project that wants to raise the poor from garbage, to turn us into masterpieces - starting from the truth of lowest and beggar roots [where we are ourselves].

The challenge of Faith is open.