First Lent Sunday [22 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. I apologise if I dwell too long  today on the presentation of the texts, but it is central to Christian life to understand in depth the drama of Genesis (first reading), which St Paul takes up in the second reading, bringing it to full understanding. Similarly, the responsorial psalm can be understood starting from the drama recounted in Genesis chapter 3, and likewise the Gospel shows us how to react in order to live in the kingdom of God already on this earth. In my opinion, it is a vision of life that must be clearly focused in order to understand the drama of the practical and often unconscious rejection of God that is consummated in the world in the face of the crucial question: why is there evil in the world? Why does God not destroy it?  

 Have a good Lent.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (2:7-9; 3:1-7a)

In the first chapters of Genesis, two different figures of man appear: the first who lives happily in complete harmony with God and with woman. and creation (chap. 2), and then the man who claims his autonomy by taking for himself the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (chap. 3). Jesus sums up in himself 'all our weaknesses' (Heb 4:15), and, put to the test, he will be the sign of the new humanity: 'the last Adam became a life-giving spirit' (1 Cor 15:45).  Before tackling this text, we must remember that its author never claimed to be a historian. The Bible was written neither by scientists nor by historians, but by believers for believers. The theologian who wrote these lines, probably at the time of Solomon in the 10th century BC, seeks to answer the questions that everyone asks: why evil? Why death? Why misunderstandings between couples? Why is life so difficult? Why is work so tiring? Why is nature sometimes hostile? To answer these questions, he draws on a certainty shared by his entire people: the goodness of God. God freed us from Egypt; God wants us to be free and happy. Since the famous exodus from Egypt, led by Moses, and the crossing of the desert, during which God's presence and support were experienced at every new difficulty, there can be no doubt about this. The story we have just read is therefore based on this certainty of God's benevolence and seeks to answer all our questions about evil in the world. With a good and benevolent God, how is it possible that evil exists? Our author has invented a parable to enlighten us: a garden of delights (this is the meaning of the word 'Eden') and humanity represented by a couple charged with cultivating and caring for the garden. The garden is full of trees, each more attractive than the next. The one in the middle is called the 'tree of life'; its fruit can be eaten like all the others. But somewhere in the garden – the text does not specify where – there is another tree, whose fruit is forbidden. It is called the 'tree of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Faced with this prohibition, the couple can have two attitudes: either to trust, knowing that God is only benevolence, and rejoice in having access to the tree of life; if God forbids us the other tree, it is because it is not good for us. Or they can suspect God of having evil intentions, imagining that he wants to prevent us from accessing knowledge. This is the serpent's argument: he addresses the woman and feigns understanding: 'So, did God really say, "You must not eat from any tree in the garden"?' (3:1). The woman replies: "We may eat the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God has said, 'You must not eat the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, nor touch it, or you will die'" (3:2-4) . Have you noticed the shift: simply because she has listened to the voice of suspicion, she now speaks only of that tree and says 'the tree in the middle of the garden'; now, in good faith, she no longer sees  the tree of life in the centre of the garden, but the tree 'of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Her gaze is already altered, simply because she has allowed the serpent to speak to her; then the serpent can continue its slow work of demolition: "No, you will not die at all! Indeed, God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (3:5). Once again, the woman listens too well to these beautiful words, and the text suggests that her gaze is increasingly distorted: 'The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eye, and desirable for gaining wisdom' (3:6). The serpent has won: the woman takes the fruit, eats it, gives it to her husband, and he eats it too. And so the story ends: "Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked" (v. 7).  The serpent had spoken well: "your eyes will be opened" (3:5); the woman's mistake was to believe that he was speaking in her interest and revealing God's evil intentions. It was nothing but a lie: her gaze changed, it is true, but it became distorted. It is no coincidence that the suspicion cast on God is represented by the features of a serpent: Israel, in the desert, had experienced poisonous snakes. Our theologian at Solomon's court recalls this painful experience and says: there is a poison more serious than that of the most poisonous snakes; the suspicion cast on God is a deadly poison, it poisons our lives. The idea of our anonymous theologian is that all our misfortunes come from this suspicion that corrodes humanity. To say that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is reserved for God is to say that only God knows what makes us happy or unhappy; which, after all, is logical if he is the one who created us. Wanting to eat the fruit of this forbidden tree at all costs means claiming to determine for ourselves what is good for us: the warning 'You must not eat it and you must not touch it, otherwise you will die' clearly indicated that this was the wrong path to take. 

But wait! The story goes even further: during the journey through the desert, God gave the Law (the Torah) which from then on had to be observed, what we call the commandments. We know that the daily practice of this Law is the condition for the survival and harmonious growth of this people; if we truly knew that God only wants our life, our happiness, our freedom, we would trust and obey the Law with a good heart. It is truly the "tree of life" made available to us by God.

I said at the beginning that this is a parable, but it is a parable whose lesson applies to each of us; since the world began, it has always been the same story. St Paul (whom we read this Sunday in the second reading) continues his meditation and says: only Christ trusted the Father in everything; he shows us the way of Life.

Note: In the Hebrew text, the serpent's question is deliberately ambiguous: 'Did God really say, "You shall not eat of any tree in the garden"? 'הֲכִי־אָמַר אֱלֹהִים לֹא תֹאכְלוּ מִכֹּל עֵץ הַגָּן? " Ha-ki amar Elohim lo tochlu mikol etz ha-gan? Put this way, the question can be understood in a restrictive sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all trees" as a total negation. Or in a general and colloquial sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all" in an absolute sense, or as all trees except one, the tree of life or the other of the knowledge of good and evil. The serpent uses this ambiguity to sow doubt and suspicion, insinuating that God might be lying or withholding something good. In the oldest Hebrew manuscripts, there are no punctuation marks as we know them today, so the play on words and the double meaning were intentionally stronger. Exegetes note that the serpent does not make a clear statement but forms a subtle question that shifts the focus to doubt: "Perhaps God is deceiving you?" This account in Genesis has many resonances in the meditation of the people of Israel. One of the reflections suggested by the text concerns the tree of life: planted in the middle of the garden of Eden, it was accessible to man and its fruit was permitted. One might think that its fruit allowed man to remain alive, to that spiritual life that God had breathed into him: "The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being" (Gen 2:7). The rabbis then made the connection with the Law given by God on Sinai. In fact, it is accepted by believers as a gift from God, a support for daily life: 'My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life and bring you peace' (Pr 3:1-2). . 

NB For further clarification, I would add this: There is the first prohibition: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in Genesis 2:16-17, God sets only one limit on man: "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat." The tree of life is not forbidden at this point. The prohibition concerns only the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because God is the one who decides what is good and what is evil, and man is called to trust, not to replace God. Eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge means saying, 'I do not trust God; I decide what is good and what is evil'. After sin, there is a second prohibition (the tree of life) because the situation changes radically. In Genesis 3:22-24, we read: 'Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever'. Only after sin does God prevent access to the tree of life. Why? Because man, separated from God by sin, cannot live forever like this. Living eternally with the consequences of sin would be a condemnation, not a gift. God therefore protects man from a distorted immortality. In other words, God does not take life away as punishment, but to prevent evil from becoming eternal.

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; according to your great mercy, blot out my sin. Wash me completely from my guilt, purify me from my offence." The people of Israel are gathered for a great penitential celebration in the Temple of Jerusalem. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. After all, if they are gathered to ask for forgiveness, it is because they already know in advance that forgiveness has been granted. This, let us remember, was King David's great discovery: David took Bathsheba, with whom he had fallen in love, and had her husband Uriah killed, because a few days later, Bathsheba was expecting a child by him. When the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first seek a word of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all God's gifts and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest confession (2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... well, know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. And a thousand times throughout its history, Israel has been able to verify that God is truly 'the merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger and rich in love and faithfulness', according to the revelation he granted to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also transmitted this message, and the few verses of the psalm we have just heard are full of these discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example: "It is I, I who blot out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Is 43:25); or again: "I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you" (Is 44:22).

This proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good, perhaps; for some it even seems unfair: if everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? Perhaps we are too quick to forget that we all, without exception, need God's mercy; so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, for, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And Isaiah himself points out that it is above all in the matter of forgiveness that God surprises us most. The only condition required is to recognise ourselves as sinners. When the prodigal son (Lk 15) returns to his father, for reasons that are not very noble, Jesus puts a phrase from Psalm 50 on his lips: "Against you, against you alone, have I sinned," and this simple phrase restores the bond that the ungrateful young man had broken. Faced with this ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel — for it is they who speak here, as in all the psalms — recognise themselves as sinners: the confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this plea: "Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, according to your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, that is, as if drawn by misery, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. The word "mercy" has the same root as the word "alms": literally, we are beggars before God. Two things remain to be done. First of all, simply give thanks for the forgiveness granted without ceasing; the praise that the people of Israel address to God is the recognition of the goodness with which he has filled them since the beginning of their history. This clearly shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is thanksgiving for God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him, and only then, when this contemplation has revealed to us the gap between Him and us, can we recognise ourselves as sinners. The ritual of reconciliation says this clearly in its introduction: 'We confess God's love together with our sin'. And the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips: we need only allow God to open our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise"; some recognise here the first sentence of the Liturgy of the Hours each morning; in fact, it is taken from Psalm 50/51. This alone is a true lesson: praise and gratitude can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. St Paul puts it another way: 'God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba!", that is, "Father!"' (Gal 4:6). This irresistibly brings to mind a gesture of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: the healing of a deaf-mute; touching his ears and tongue, Jesus said, 'Ephphatha', which means 'Be opened'. And then, spontaneously, those present applied to Jesus a phrase that the Bible reserved for God: "He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak" (cf. Is 35:5-6). Even today, in some baptismal celebrations, the celebrant repeats this gesture of Jesus on the baptised, saying: "The Lord Jesus has made the deaf hear and the mute speak; may he grant you to hear his word and proclaim your faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father". The second thing to do, and what God expects of us, is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and this is a serious undertaking in our lives.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:12-19)

Adam was a figure of the one who was to come, Paul tells us; he speaks of Adam in the past tense because he refers to the book of Genesis and the story of the forbidden fruit, but for him Adam's drama is not a story of the past: this story is ours, every day; we are all Adam at times; the rabbis say, 'everyone is Adam to himself'.

And if we were to summarise the story of the Garden of Eden (which we reread in this Sunday's first reading), we could say this: by listening to the voice of the serpent rather than God's command, by allowing suspicion about God's intentions to invade their hearts, by believing that they could allow themselves everything, that they could 'know' everything - as the Bible says — man and woman placed themselves under the dominion of death. And when we say, 'everyone is Adam to himself', it means that every time we turn away from God, we allow the powers of death to invade our lives. St Paul, in his letter to the Romans, continues the same meditation and announces that humanity has taken a decisive step in Jesus Christ; we are all brothers and sisters of Adam and we are all brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ; we are brothers and sisters of Adam when we allow the poison of suspicion to infest our hearts, when we presume to make ourselves the law. We are brothers and sisters of Christ when we trust God enough to let him guide our lives. We are under the dominion of death when we behave like Adam; when we behave like Jesus, that is, like him, 'obedient' (i.e. trusting), we are already resurrected in the kingdom of life, the one John speaks of: 'He who believes in me, even if he dies, will live', a life that biological death does not interrupt. Let us return to the account in the Book of Genesis: The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground; he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being. This breath of God that makes man a living being – as the text says – was not given to animals: yet they are very much alive in a biological sense; we can therefore deduce that man enjoys a life different from biological life. St Paul affirms that because of Adam, death has reigned: he uses the terms 'reign' and 'reign over' several times, showing that there are two kingdoms that confront each other: the kingdom of sin when humanity acts like Adam, which brings death, judgement and condemnation. Then there is the kingdom of Christ, that is, with him, the new humanity, which is the kingdom of grace, of life, of free gift, of justification. However, no man is entirely in the kingdom of Christ, and Paul himself recognises this: 'I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want' (Rom 7:19). . Adam, that is, humanity, was created to be king, to cultivate and keep the garden, as we read in the book of Genesis, but, ill-advised by the serpent, he wants to do everything by himself, with his own strength, cutting himself off from God. Jesus Christ, on the contrary, does not 'claim' this kingship: it is given to him. As Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians: "though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself" (2:6, NRSV). The story of the Garden of Eden says the same thing in images: before the Fall, man and woman could eat the fruit of the tree of life; after the Fall, they no longer have access to it. Each in its own way, these two texts – that of Genesis on the one hand and that of the letter to the Romans on the other – tell us the deepest truth of our lives: with God, everything is grace, everything is a free gift; and Paul here insists on the abundance, on the profusion of grace, even speaking of the 'disproportion' of grace: It is not like the fall, the free gift... much more, God's grace has been poured out in abundance on the multitude, this grace given in one man, Jesus Christ. Everything is a gift, and this is not surprising since, as St John says, God is Love. It is not because Christ behaved well that he received a reward, and Adam received punishment because of his misconduct. Paul's discourse is deeper: Christ lives in total trust that everything will be given to him in God... and everything is given to him in the Resurrection. Adam, that is, each one of us, often wants to take possession of what can only be received as a gift, and for this reason finds himself 'naked', that is, deprived of everything. We could say that by birth we are citizens of the kingdom of Adam; through baptism we have asked to be naturalised in the kingdom of Christ. Obedience and disobedience in Paul's sense could thus be replaced: 'obedience' with trust and 'disobedience' with mistrust; as Kierkegaard says: "The opposite of sin is not virtue; the opposite of sin is faith." If we reread the story of Genesis, we can see that the author intentionally did not give proper names to the man and woman; he spoke of Adam (derived from adamah, meaning earth, dust), which means 'human being taken from the earth', while Eve (derived from Chavah, meaning life) is the one who gives life. By not giving them names, he wanted us to understand that the drama of Adam and Eve is not the story of particular individuals, but the story of every human being, and has always been so.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (4:1-11)

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil" . The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between Jesus' baptism and the temptations that immediately follow. Matthew had said a few verses earlier: Jesus "will save his people from their sins", which is precisely the meaning of the name Jesus. John the Baptist baptises Jesus in the Jordan even though he did not agree and had said: " I need to be baptised by you, and yet you come to me!" (Mt 3:14)... And it came to pass that when Jesus came up out of the water after his baptism, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

This phrase alone publicly announces that Jesus is truly the Messiah: because the expression 'Son of God' was synonymous with King-Messiah, and the phrase 'the beloved, in whom I am well pleased' (3:17) refers to one of the songs of the Servant in Isaiah. In a few words, Matthew reminds us of the whole mystery of the person of Jesus; and it is he, precisely, who is the Messiah, the Saviour, the Servant who will confront the Tempter. Like his people a few centuries earlier, he is led into the desert; like his people, he knows hunger; like his people, he must discover what God's will is for his children; like his people, he must choose before whom to bow down. "If you are the Son of God," repeats the Tempter, thus revealing the real problem; and Jesus is confronted with it, not only three times, but throughout his earthly life. What does it mean, in concrete terms, to be the Messiah? The question takes various forms: solving people's problems with miracles, such as turning stones into bread? Provoking God to test his promises? ... By throwing himself from the temple, for example, because Psalm 91 promised that God would rescue his Messiah... Possessing the world, dominating, reigning at any cost, even worshipping any idol? Even ceasing to be the Son? It should be noted that in the third temptation, the Tempter no longer repeats "If you are the Son of God".

The culmination of these temptations is that they target God's promises: they promise nothing more than what God himself promised to his Messiah. And the two interlocutors, the Tempter and Jesus, know this well. But here's the thing... God's promises are in the order of love; they can only be received as gifts; love cannot be demanded, it cannot be seized, it is received on bended knee, with gratitude. Ultimately, the same thing happens as in the Garden of Genesis: Adam knows, and rightly so, that he was created to be king, to be free, to be master of creation; but instead of accepting gifts as gifts, with gratitude and appreciation, he demands, he claims, he places himself on a par with God... He leaves the order of love and can no longer receive the love offered... he finds himself poor and naked. Jesus makes the opposite choice: 'Get behind me, Satan!' as he once said to Peter, adding, 'Your thoughts are not those of God, but those of men' (Mt 16:23). Furthermore, several times in this text, Matthew calls the Tempter "devil," which in Greek means "the one who divides." Satan is for each of us, as he is for Jesus himself, the one who tends to separate us from God, to see things in Adam's way and not in God's way. On closer inspection, it all lies in the gaze: Adam's is distorted; to keep his gaze clear, Jesus scrutinises the Word of God: the three responses to the Tempter are quotations from the book of Deuteronomy (chapter 8), in a passage that is precisely a meditation on the temptations of the people of Israel in the desert. Then, Matthew points out, the devil (the divider) leaves him; he has not succeeded in dividing, in turning away the Son's heart. This recalls St John's phrase in the Prologue (Jn 1:1): 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God (pros ton Theon, which means turned towards God), and the Word was God'. . The devil has not succeeded in turning the Son's heart away, and so he is then completely available to receive God's gifts: "Behold, angels came and ministered to him."

NB At the request of some, I would also like to present the homily I am preparing for this first Sunday of Lent.

Homily – First Sunday of Lent

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil." The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between the baptism of Jesus and the temptations that immediately follow. When Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, 'This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased'. Jesus is the 'Son of God', the Messiah, the Saviour, the servant of God who will face the Tempter. Satan will say just that: "If you are the Son of God," thus revealing the real problem, which is the attempt to separate Jesus' divine identity from his way of living it, or better yet, to push Jesus to use his divine power without the trust of a son and his humanity without obedience. To understand this better, we must return to the first reading from the book of Genesis, where the tempting serpent promises Eve: "You will be like God" (Gen 3:5). The temptation is not only about a fruit that should not be eaten, but about autonomy from God, the desire to decide for oneself what is good and evil, without trusting the Father. Adam and Eve allowed themselves to be persuaded and found themselves naked. They lost everything!

In the desert, the devil now tempts Jesus, the new Adam, a true man like us except for sin, and launches three provocations: 1. "Say that these stones become bread." The temptation to live without depending on God, to seek immediate satisfaction. There is a hunger that goes beyond bread and that only God can satisfy. But this means trusting God, and Jesus responds: 'It is written: Man shall not live by bread alone' (Mt 4:4). 2nd temptation. The devil raises the stakes: "Throw yourself down" from the temple and the angels will catch you. Here is the temptation to manipulate God, to ask for spectacular signs to confirm one's faith. This is a very subtle temptation today, but one that is very common when we believe in making the liturgy, evangelisation and ecclesial events spectacular. Jesus teaches us to spread the Gospel like yeast in dough and a small seed in the ground: everything happens in silence because we must not believe that we are protagonists but lives always hidden in God, even when we act publicly. It is not our work to convert the world. Let us listen to Jesus who replies: "It is written: You shall not tempt the Lord your God" (Mt 4:7). . 3. In the third temptation, it should be noted that the Tempter no longer repeats 'If you are the Son of God', because Satan believes himself to be the master of the world and so he can say to him, 'I will give you everything if you bow down to me'. It is the temptation of power and compromise, of bending one's life to immediate advantages. It is very dangerous because it often involves the idea that we can accept anything in order to evangelise, but we are not the masters! Jesus replies: "It is written: You shall worship the Lord your God and him alone shall you serve" (Mt 4:10). 

Let us note something decisive: Jesus does not respond with his own intelligence or strength, but always by referring to the Word of God, which is the only true light that can guide man's journey through the desert of life, a journey that is often dark and full of pitfalls. This is because the Word of God is the light of truth that never goes out. St John Chrysostom reminds us: "In Scripture we find not only words, but the strength we need to overcome evil; it is the nourishment of the soul and the light that guides those who walk in darkness" (Homilies on Matthew, 4th century).   Even when the world rejects God, even when the right choices seem uncomfortable or losing, Scripture remains the sure guide. How can we apply this to our lives? Today, being a Christian is often difficult: faith can be mocked or ignored, the Gospel seems useless, Christ is fought against and sometimes tolerated, but not welcomed. Lent invites us to make a daily choice: who guides our lives? Do we want to do everything on our own, like Eve and Adam in Eden, choosing what seems most convenient? Or do we entrust ourselves to God, allowing his Word to enlighten our decisions and give meaning even to our difficulties? Following Christ means choosing fidelity, even when the world goes against it. It means living our lives as Christians without compromise, basing ourselves not on personal strength, but on the living Word of God. We are always sustained by a certain and concrete hope: the Gospel ends with a silent promise: 'Then the devil left him' (Mt 4:11). Those who entrust themselves to God are not left alone in their trials. Temptation may seem powerful, but those who walk in the light of the Word are never defeated.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Ash Wednesday [18 February 2026]

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! I am now sending the texts for Ash Wednesday and Wednesday those for Sunday.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Joel (2:12-18)

'Return to the Lord with all your heart'. The book of the prophet Joel is one of the shortest in the Old Testament: it has only seventy-three verses, divided into four chapters, and is generally dated around 600 BC, shortly before the Exile to Babylon. Three major themes are constantly interwoven in this writing: the announcement of terrible scourges, real or symbolic; the urgent call to fasting and conversion; and finally, the proclamation of the salvation that God grants to his people. It is above all the second theme, that of conversion, which the liturgy proposes at the beginning of the Lenten journey. The invitation to conversion opens solemnly with the typical formula of the prophets: "The word of the Lord." It draws attention and asks us to take seriously what follows. And what follows is a decisive word: "Return". It is the fundamental verb of biblical penitential language. God invites his people to return to him, while the people, in turn, implore God to "return", that is, to grant forgiveness and mercy. This return to God must be expressed through fasting, tears and mourning: traditional signs of penance. However, the prophets, and Joel in particular, warn against the risk of stopping at outward appearances. For this reason, the prophet strongly affirms: "Rend your hearts and not your garments". Authentic conversion is not a matter of visible rituals, but a profound change of heart. Joel thus follows in the great prophetic tradition inaugurated by Isaiah, who denounced empty and formal worship, incapable of transforming life: God rejects solemn feasts and multiplied prayers when hands remain stained with injustice. What He asks for is a true purification of the heart and actions, the abandonment of evil and a concrete commitment to good and justice. The same message is expressed in a particularly intense way in Psalm 50/51, which defines true conversion as a "broken and humbled heart". In the light of Ezekiel, this image takes on an even deeper meaning: it is necessary for the heart of stone to be broken so that a heart of flesh may finally be born, capable of listening to God and living according to his will. When Joel calls for hearts to be torn, he means precisely this radical transformation of the human being. Conversion, in Joel's view, aims to obtain God's forgiveness and avert deserved punishment. The prophet reminds us that the Lord is 'tender and merciful, slow to anger and rich in love' and leaves open a hope: perhaps God will retrace his steps, renounce punishment and save his people from humiliation before the nations. But the final announcement exceeds all expectations: forgiveness is not only possible, it has already been granted. The liturgical translation speaks of a God who is 'moved' by his people, but the Hebrew text is even stronger: 'The Lord burns with zeal for his land and has compassion on his people'. This is not a cold or distant pity, but a passionate and faithful love. It remains to be discovered in biblical revelation that this mercy is not reserved for Israel alone. The book of Jonah shows this in a surprising way, recounting the conversion of Nineveh, the pagan city: faced with the fasting and change of life of its inhabitants, God renounces the punishment he had announced. The message is clear: the Lord "burns with zeal" for all people, even those who seem distant or unworthy.

This truth will find its definitive expression in the New Testament, when St Paul affirms that God has manifested his love in a radical way: Christ died for us while we were still sinners (Rom 5:8).

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; in your great mercy blot out my guilt. Wash me clean of my guilt, purify me from my sin." The people of Israel are gathered in the Temple in Jerusalem for a great penitential celebration. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. And, after all, if they gather to ask for forgiveness, it is precisely because they know in advance that forgiveness has already been granted. This was the great discovery of King David, who had brought his beautiful neighbour Bathsheba (the wife of an officer, Uriah, who was at war at the time) to his palace and slept with her, and she became pregnant. Some time later, Bathsheba let David know that she was expecting his child. At that point, David arranged for the death of her betrayed husband on the battlefield, so that he could definitively take possession of the woman and the child she was carrying. Now, and this is where God's unexpectedness comes in, when the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first try to extract a confession of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all the gifts he had received from God and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest admission of guilt (cf. 2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... and know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. Israel has always been able to verify that God is truly a merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger, rich in faithful love, according to the revelation made to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also reiterated this message, and the verses of the psalm we have heard are imbued with the discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example, has God say: "I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Isaiah 43:25). The proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good to be true; to some it even seems unfair. If everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? It is to forget too quickly that all of us, without exception, need God's mercy: so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, because, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And in forgiving, Isaiah points out, God surprises us more than anything else. Faced with the ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel recognise themselves as sinners. The confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this supplication: Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, in your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. After all, the word 'mercy' has the same root as the word 'alms': literally, we are beggars before God. At this point, we have two things left to do.

Simply give thanks for this forgiveness that is continually given. When Israel turns to God, it always acknowledges the goodness with which He has filled it since the beginning of its history, and this shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is the acknowledgement of God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him; only then, this contemplation, revealing the gap between Him and us, allows us to recognise ourselves as sinners: we confess God's love together with our sin. Then the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips when God opens our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise" (Psalm 50/51). Praise and thanksgiving can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. The second thing God expects of us is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and that is quite a programme.

*Second reading from the second letter of St Paul to the Corinthians (5:20-6:2)

"Be reconciled to God," says Paul; but reconciliation implies that there is a quarrel: what quarrel is it? The men of the Old Testament discovered that God is not at odds with man. Psalm 102/103, for example, states: The Lord does not always contend, nor does he keep his anger forever; he does not treat us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities... Isaiah also invites the wicked to abandon their ways, the unrighteous to abandon their thoughts; return to the Lord, who will have compassion on you, to our God, who forgives abundantly (Is 55:7). And the book of Wisdom adds: 'You have mercy on all because you can do all things, and you turn away your gaze from the sins of men to lead them to repentance... You spare them all, because they are yours, Lord, who loves life... Your dominion over all makes you use clemency towards all' (Wisdom 11:23; 12:16). The men of the Bible experienced this, beginning with David. God knew that he had blood on his hands (after the killing of Uriah, Bathsheba's husband, 2 Sam 12), yet he sent the prophet Nathan to tell him in essence: "Everything you have, I have given you, and if that is not enough, I am ready to give you everything else you desire." God also knew that Solomon owed his throne to the elimination of his rivals, yet he listened to his prayer at Gibeon and granted it far beyond what the young king had dared to ask (1 Kings 3). Furthermore, God's very name — the Merciful One — means that he loves us even more when we are miserable. God, therefore, is not at odds with man; yet Paul speaks of reconciliation, because man has always been at odds with God. The text of Genesis (Genesis 2-3) attributes the accusatory phrase to the serpent: "God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like gods, knowing good and evil" (Gen 3:4). In other words, man suspects that God is jealous and does not want his good. But since that voice is not natural to man (it is the serpent's), he can be healed of this suspicion. This is what Paul says: "It is God himself who calls you; we urge you in the name of Christ: be reconciled to God." And what did God do to remove this quarrel, this suspicion, from our hearts? He who knew no sin, God made him sin for us: Jesus knew no sin even for a moment, he was never at odds with the Father. Paul adds: 'He became obedient' (Phil 2:8), that is, trusting even through suffering and death. He sought to communicate to men this trust and the revelation of a God who is only love, forgiveness, and help for the little ones. Paradoxically, it was precisely for this reason that he was considered blasphemous, placed among sinners and executed as a cursed man (Deut 21:23). The darkness of men fell upon him, and God allowed it because it was the only way to make us realise how far his "zeal for his people" can go, as the prophet Joel says. Jesus suffered in the flesh the sin of men, their violence, their hatred, their rejection of a God of love. On the face of the crucified Christ, we contemplate the horror of human sin, but also God's gentleness and forgiveness. From this contemplation can come our conversion, our 'justification', as Paul says. They will look upon him whom they have pierced (cf. Zechariah 12:10; John 19:37). To discover in Jesus, who forgives his executioners, the very image of God means to enter into the reconciliation offered by God. We are left with the task of proclaiming this to the world: 'We are ambassadors for Christ', says Paul, considering himself sent on mission to his brothers and sisters. It is up to us to continue this mission, and this is probably the meaning of Paul's final quotation: "For it is written in Scripture: 'At the favourable time I answered you, on the day of salvation I helped you.'" Paul here takes up a phrase from Isaiah, who exhorted the Babylonian exiles to proclaim that the hour of God's salvation had come. In turn, Christ entrusted to the Church the task of proclaiming the forgiveness of sins to the world.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (6:1-6, 16-18)

  Here we have two short excerpts from the Sermon on the Mount, which occupies chapters 5-7 of St Matthew; the entire sermon is built around its central core, the Lord's Prayer (6:9-13), which gives meaning to everything else. The recommendations we read today are not just moral advice: they concern the very meaning of faith. All our actions are rooted in the discovery that God is Father. Thus, prayer, almsgiving and fasting become paths to bring us closer to God the Father: fasting means learning to go out of ourselves, praying means centring ourselves on God, giving alms means centring ourselves on our brothers and sisters. Three times Jesus repeats similar, almost polemical formulations: Do not be like those who flaunt their piety.... It is important to remember how significant religious manifestations were in Jewish society at the time, with the inevitable risk of attributing too much value to outward gestures; and probably even prominent figures did not escape this! Matthew sometimes reports Jesus' rebukes to those who focused more on the length of their fringes than on mercy and faithfulness (Mt 23:5f). Here, however, Jesus invites his disciples to a truth operation: If you want to live as righteous people, avoid acting in front of others to be admired. Righteousness was the great concern of believers: and if Jesus mentions the pursuit of righteousness twice in the Beatitudes, it is because that term, that thirst, was familiar to his listeners: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied" (5:6); "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (5:10). True biblical justice consists in harmony with God's plan, not in the accumulation of practices, however noble they may seem. The famous phrase from Genesis — Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6) — teaches us that justice is first and foremost righteousness, as in a musical instrument, a deep harmony with God's will.

The three practices — prayer, fasting, almsgiving — are paths to righteousness.

Prayer: let God guide us according to his plan: "Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." We wait for Him to teach us the true needs of the Kingdom. Jesus precedes the teaching of the Our Father with this recommendation: "When you pray, do not do as the pagans do... your Father knows what you need before you ask him (6:7-8).

Fasting: by ceasing to pursue what we believe is necessary for our happiness, which risks absorbing us more and more, we learn freedom and recognise true priorities; Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God (Mt 4:4).

Almsgiving: The word almsgiving comes from the same family as eleison: to give alms means to open one's heart to mercy. God wants the good of all his children; justice, understood as harmony with Him, inevitably includes a dimension of social justice. The parable of the Last Judgement (Mt 25:31-46) confirms this: "Come, blessed of my Father... for I was hungry and you gave me food... and the righteous will enter into eternal life." The behaviours that Jesus condemns — do not be like those who show off — are the opposite: they keep man centred on himself, closing his heart to the transforming action of the Spirit.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Faith, Temptations: our success

(Mt 4:1-11  Mc 1:12-15  Lc 4:1-13)

Only the man of God is tempted.

In the Bible, temptation is not a kind of danger or seduction for death, but an opportunity for life.

Even more: a relaunch from the usual laces.

When existence runs off without jolts, here is instead the ‘earthquake of flattery’... a trial that puts back in the balance.

Lenten spirituality.

In God's plan, the test of Faith doesn’t come to destroy minds and life, but to disturb the swampy reality of obligations contracted in the quiet of conformist etiquette.

In fact, in the labels we are not ourselves, but a role: here it’s impossible to seriously conform to Christ.

Every danger comes for a healthy jolt, of image too - and to move us.

The exodus stimulates us to take a leap forward; not to bury existence in the anthology of uncritical mechanisms under conditions.

The passage is narrow and it’s also obligatory; hurts. But it spurs so that we can meet again ourselves, our brothers and the world.

Providence presses: it’s educating us to look both every detail and the fundamental option in face.

To get out of dangers, ‘seductions’ or disturbances, we are obliged to look inside and bring out all the resources, even those unknown (or to which we have not granted credit).

The difficulty and the crisis force us to find solutions, give space to the neglected and shaded sides; see well, ask for help; get informed, enter into a qualitative relationship and compare ourselves.

Of necessity, virtue: after attraction and enticement or trial, the renewed point of view, reaffirmed by a new evaluation, questions the soul about the calibre of choices and our own infirmities.

Unsteady situations themselves have something to tell us: they come from the deepest layers of being, which we must encounter - and they take the form of mouldable energies, to invest.

The Calls to revolutionize opinions of oneself and of things - vocations to a ‘new birth’ - are not incitements for the worst, nor spiritual humiliations.

The "crosses" and even the dazzles are a territory of pain that leads to intimate contact with our Source, which re-arouses us from time to time.

The man who is always listening to his own Core and remains faithful to the singular dignity and uniqueness of the Mission, however, must bear the pressures of a kind of evil that only instigates death.

Mt and Lk describe these (‘apparently friendly’, for success) enticements in three symbolic pictures:

the relationship with things [turning stones into bread]; with others [temptation of kingdoms]; with God [Trust in the Father's Action].

In the Holy Scriptures a curious fact emerges: spiritually weak people are never tempted! And the other way around is also true.

It’s the way of living and internalizing the lightning bolt or the time of Temptation that distinguishes Faith from the banality of devotion any.

[1st Sunday in Lent,  February 22, 2026]

Faith, Temptations: our success

(Mt 4:1-11; Mk 1:12-15; Lk 4:1-13)

Only the man of God is tempted.

In the Bible, temptation is not a kind of danger or seduction to death, but an opportunity for life. Even more: a revival from the usual entanglements.

Optics of Lenten Spirituality:

Every day we verify that a relevant pitfall for the experience of Faith seems to be 'luck'. It binds us to the immediate good of individual situations.

Vice versa, on the other hand, makes routine: here is well-being, escaping from failures and unhappy events, the stasis of the same-as-before.

A devout person can even use religion to sacralise his or her coarse world, bound by habits (considered stable).

So - according to circumstance - even willingly enter into the practice of the sacraments, as long as they remain parentheses that do not mean much.

When existence runs smoothly, here instead is the earthquake of flattery... a challenge that throws one back into the balance.

In God's plan, the test of Faith does not come to destroy minds and existence, but to disturb the swampy reality of obligations contracted in the quiet of conformist etiquette.

In fact, in labels we are not ourselves, but a role: here it is impossible to truly conform to Christ.

Every peril comes for a salutary jolt even of image, and to shake us up.

The Exodus encourages us to take a leap forward - not to drown our existence in the anthology of uncritical mechanisms under conditions, and to submit to the influence of recognised cords; 'useful', but diverting our naturalness.

The passage is narrow and even forced; it wounds. But it spurs us on to meet ourselves, our brothers, and the world again.

Providence presses on: it is educating us to look in the face both every detail and the fundamental option.

We do not grow or mature by settling our souls on everyone's opinions and sitting in majority, habitual, 'respectable', supposedly truthful situations. Yet not very spontaneous, lacking transparency and reciprocity with our founding Eros.

Nor do we become adults by embracing ascetic athleticism, or easier shortcuts of mass, class, cliques, or herd - which make us outsiders.

To emerge from dangers, seductions, disturbances, we are obliged to look within and bring out all resources, even those unknown or to which we have not given credit.

Difficulties and crises force us to find solutions, to give space to the neglected, shadowed sides; to see well and ask for help; to inform ourselves, to enter into a qualitative relationship, and to confront ourselves from within.

Of necessity, virtue: after the attraction and the enticement or the trial, the renewed and reaffirmed point of view from a new evaluation questions the soul about the calibre of choices - about our own infirmities.

They themselves have something to tell us: they come from the deepest layers of being, which we must encounter - in order not to remain disassociated. And they take the form of mouldable energies, then to be invested in.

The calls to revolutionise views of self and of things - the vocations to a new birth - are not incitements to annihilate one's world of relationships, or spurs to the worst, nor spiritual humiliation.

The 'crosses' and even the blunders are a territory of labour pains that guide one to intimate contact with our Source - which from time to time re-awakens us with new genesis, with different births.

The man who always listens to his own centre and remains faithful to the singular dignity and uniqueness of Mission, must however withstand the pressures of an evil that only instigates death.

Mt and Lk describe such seemingly friendly allurements, i.e. for success, in three symbolic pictures:

Here is the relationship with things [stones into bread]; with others [temptation of kingdoms]; with God [on Trust in the Father's Action].

Stones into bread: the Lord's own life tells us that it is better to be defeated than to be well off.

The elusive way - even pious, inert, without direct contact - of relating to material realities is under indictment.

The person, even religious but empty, merely gives or receives directions, or allures with special effects.

He makes use of prestige and his own qualities and titles, almost as if to escape the difficulties that may bother him, involve him at root.

In contrast, the person of Faith is not only empathetic and supportive in form, but fraternal and authentic.

He does not keep a safe distance from problems, nor from what he does not know; he takes Exodus seriously. Paying it.

He feels the impulse to walk the hard path side by side with himself (in deep truth) and with others, without calculation or privilege.

Nor does it deploy resources solely in its own favour - by detaching and retreating, or by making do; by blundering, by conforming to the club of conformists from the relaxation zone and fake security.

Temptation of kingdoms. Our] counterpart is not exaggerating (Mt 4:9; Lk 4:6): the logic that governs the idolatrous kingdom has nothing to do with God.

To take, to ascend, to command; to grasp, to appear, to subjugate: these are the worst ways of dealing with others, who seem to be there only for utility, and to be stools, or to annoy us.

The lust for power is so irrepressible, so capable of seduction, that it seems to be a specific attribute of the divine condition: to be on high.

Although he could get ahead, Jesus did not want to confuse us by leading, but by shortening the distance.

In history, unfortunately, several churchmen have been unclear. They have willingly exchanged the apron of service and the towel of our feet for the torn chair and a coveted office.

Puppet idols not to be worshipped.

The final temptation - the culmination of the Temple's 'guarantee of protection' - seems like the others a trivial piece of advice in our favour. Even for 'success' in our relationship with God - after that with things and people.

But what is at stake here is full Trust in the Father's Action. He imparts life, ceaselessly strengthening and expanding our being.

Even in the opportunities that seem less appealing, the Creator ceaselessly generates opportunities for more genuine wholeness and fulfilment, which, reworked without hysteria, accentuate the wave of life.

He increasingly presses for the canons to be crossed. And the creaturely being transpires. Therein lurks a secret, a Mystery, a destination.

His is a thrust far from being planted on the spectacle-miracle, or on sacred assurance [which then shies away from unwelcome insights and risky risks].

A curious fact emerges in the Holy Scriptures: spiritually sluggish people are never tempted! And the reverse is also true.

It is the way of living and internalising the lightning or the time of Temptation that distinguishes Faith from the banality of any devotion.

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

This is the First Sunday of Lent, the liturgical Season of 40 days which constitutes a spiritual journey in the Church of preparation for Easter. Essentially it is a matter of following Jesus who is walking with determination towards the Cross, the culmination of his mission of salvation. If we ask ourselves: “Why Lent? Why the Cross?”, the answer in radical terms is this: because evil exists, indeed sin, which according to the Scriptures is the profound cause of all evil. However this affirmation is far from being taken for granted and the very word “sin” is not accepted by many because it implies a religious vision of the world and of the human being. 

In fact it is true: if God is eliminated from the world’s horizon, one cannot speak of sin. As when the sun is hidden, shadows disappear. Shadows only appear if the sun is out; hence the eclipse of God necessarily entails the eclipse of sin. Therefore the sense of sin — which is something different from the “sense of guilt” as psychology understands it — is acquired by rediscovering the sense of God. This is expressed by the Miserere Psalm, attributed to King David on the occasion of his double sin of adultery and homicide: “Against you”, David says, addressing God, “against you only have I sinned” (Ps 51(50):6).

In the face of moral evil God’s attitude is to oppose sin and to save the sinner. God does not tolerate evil because he is Love, Justice and Fidelity; and for this very reason he does not desire the death of the sinner but wants the sinner to convert and to live. To save humanity God intervenes: we see him throughout the history of the Jewish people, beginning with the liberation from Egypt. God is determined to deliver his children from slavery in order to lead them to freedom. And the most serious and profound slavery is precisely that of sin. 

For this reason God sent his Son into the world: to set men and women free from the domination of Satan, “the origin and cause of every sin”. God sent him in our mortal flesh so that he might become a victim of expiation, dying for us on the Cross. The Devil opposed this definitive and universal plan of salvation with all his might, as is shown in particular in the Gospel of the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness which is proclaimed every year on the First Sunday of Lent. In fact, entering this liturgical season means continuously taking Christ’s side against sin, facing — both as individuals and as Church — the spiritual fight against the spirit of evil each time (Ash Wednesday, Opening Prayer).

Let us therefore invoke the maternal help of Mary Most Holy for the Lenten journey that has just begun, so that it may be rich in fruits of conversion.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 13 March 2011]

I am with you always, to the close of the age (Mt 28:20)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

1. This year, the celebration of Lent, a time of conversion and reconciliation, takes on a particular character, occurring as it does during the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000. The time of Lent is in fact the culminating point of the journey of conversion and reconciliation which the Jubilee, the year of the Lord’s favour, offers to all the faithful, so that they can renew their fidelity to Christ and proclaim his mystery of salvation with renewed ardour in the new millennium. Lent helps Christians to enter more deeply into this “mystery hidden for ages” (Eph 3:9): it leads them to come face to face with the word of the living God and urges them to give up their own selfishness in order to receive the saving activity of the Holy Spirit.

2. We were dead through sin (cf. Eph 2:5): this is how Saint Paul describes the situation of man without Christ. This is why the Son of God wished to unite himself to human nature, ransoming it from the slavery of sin and death.

This is a slavery which man experiences every day, as he perceives its deep roots in his own heart (cf. Mt 7:11). Sometimes it shows itself in dramatic and unusual ways, as happened in the course of the great tragedies of the twentieth century, which deeply marked the lives of countless communities and individuals, the victims of cruel violence. Forced deportations, the systematic elimination of peoples, contempt for the fundamental rights of the person: these are the tragedies which even today humiliate humanity. In daily life too we see all sorts of forms of fraud, hatred, the destruction of others, and lies of which man is both the victim and source. Humanity is marked by sin. Its tragic condition reminds us of the cry of alarm uttered by the Apostle to the nations: “None is righteous, no, not one” (Rom 3:10; cf. Ps 14:3).

3. In the face of the darkness of sin and man’s incapacity to free himself on his own, there appears in all its splendour the saving work of Christ: “God appointed him as a sacrifice for reconciliation, through faith, by the shedding of his blood, and so showed his justness” (Rom 3:25). Christ is the Lamb who has taken upon himself the sin of the world (cf. Jn 1:29). He shared in human life “unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8), to ransom mankind from the slavery of evil and restore humanity to its original dignity as children of God. This is the paschal mystery in which we are reborn. Here, as the Easter Sequence says, “Death with life contended, combat strangely ended”. The Fathers of the Church affirm that in Christ Jesus, the devil attacks the whole of humanity and ensnares it in death, from which however it is freed through the victorious power of the Resurrection. In the Risen Lord death’s power is broken and mankind is enabled, through faith, to enter into communion with God. To those who believe, God’s very life is given, through the action of the Holy Spirit, the “first gift to those who believe” (Eucharistic Prayer IV). Thus the redemption accomplished on the Cross renews the universe and brings about the reconciliation of God and man, and of people with one another.

4. The Jubilee is the time of grace in which we are invited to open ourselves in a particular way to the mercy of the Father, who in the Son has stooped down to man, and to reconciliation, the great gift of Christ. This year therefore should become, not only for Christians but also for all people of good will, a precious moment for experiencing the renewing power of God’s forgiving and reconciling love. God offers his mercy to whoever is willing to accept it, even to the distant and doubtful. The people of our time, tired of mediocrity and false hopes, are thus given an opportunity to set out on the path that leads to fullness of life. In this context, Lent of the Holy Year 2000 is par excellence “the acceptable time . . . the day of salvation” (2 Cor 6:2), the particularly favourable opportunity “to be reconciled to God” (2 Cor 5:20).

During the Holy Year the Church offers various opportunities for personal and community reconciliation. Each Diocese has designated special places where the faithful can go in order to experience a particular presence of God, by recognizing in his light their own sinfulness, and though the Sacrament of Reconciliation to set out on a new path of life. Particular significance attaches to pilgrimage to the Holy Land and to Rome, which are special places of encounter with God, because of their unique role in the history of salvation. How could we fail to set out, at least spiritually, to the Land which two thousand years ago witnessed the passage of the Lord? There “the Word became flesh” (Jn 1:14) and “increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favour with God and man” (Lk 2:52); there he “went about all the cities and villages . . . preaching the gospel of the Kingdom and healing every disease and every infirmity” (Mt 9:35); there he accomplished the mission entrusted to him by the Father (cf. Jn 19:30) and poured out the Holy Spirit upon the infant Church (cf. Jn 20:22).

I too hope, precisely during Lent of the year 2000, to be a pilgrim in the Holy Land, to the places where our faith began, in order to celebrate the two-thousandth Jubilee of the Incarnation. I invite all Christians to accompany me with their prayers, while I myself, on the various stages of the pilgrimage, shall ask for forgiveness and reconciliation for the sons and daughters of the Church and for all humanity.

5. The path of conversion leads to reconciliation with God and to fullness of new life in Christ. A life of faith, hope and love. These three virtues, known as the “theological” virtues because they refer directly to God in his mystery, have been the subject of special study during the three years of preparation for the Great Jubilee. The celebration of the Holy Year now calls every Christian to live and bear witness to these virtues in a fuller and more conscious way.

The grace of the Jubilee above all impels us to renew our personal faith. This consists in holding fast to the proclamation of the Paschal Mystery, through which believers recognize that in Christ crucified and risen from the dead they have been given salvation. Day by day they offer him their lives; they accept everything that the Lord wills for them, in the certainty that God loves them. Faith is the “yes” of individuals to God, it is their “Amen”.

For Jews, Christians and Muslims alike, Abraham is the exemplar of the believer: trusting in the promise, he follows the voice of God calling him to set out on unknown paths. Faith helps us to discover the signs of God’s loving presence in creation, in people, in the events of history and above all in the work and message of Christ, as he inspires people to look beyond themselves, beyond appearances, towards that transcendence where the mystery of God’s love for every creature is revealed.

Through the grace of the Jubilee, the Lord likewise invites us to renew our hope. In fact, time itself is redeemed in Christ and opens up to a prospect of unending joy and full communion with God. For Christians, time is marked by an expectation of the eternal wedding feast, anticipated daily at the Eucharistic table. Looking forward to the eternal banquet “the Spirit and Bride say: 'Come' ” (Rev 22:17), nurturing the hope that frees time from mere repetition and gives it its real meaning. Through the virtue of hope, Christians bear witness to the fact that, beyond all evil and beyond every limit, history bears within itself a seed of good which the Lord will cause to germinate in its fullness. They therefore look to the new millennium without fear, and face the challenges and expectations of the future in the confident certainty which is born of faith in the Lord’s promise.

Through the Jubilee, finally, the Lord asks us to rekindle our charity. The Kingdom which Christ will reveal in its full splendour at the end of time is already present where people live in accordance with God’s will. The Church is called to bear witness to the communion, peace and charity which are the Kingdom’s distinguishing marks. In this mission, the Christian community knows that faith without works is dead (cf. Jas 2:17). Thus, through charity, Christians make visible God’s love for man revealed in Christ, and make manifest Christ’s presence in the world “to the close of the age”. For Christians, charity is not just a gesture or an ideal but is, so to speak, the prolongation of the presence of Christ who gives himself.

During Lent, everyone — rich and poor — is invited to make Christ’s love present through generous works of charity. During this Jubilee Year our charity is called in a particular way to manifest Christ’s love to our brothers and sisters who lack the necessities of life, who suffer hunger, violence or injustice. This is the way to make the ideals of liberation and fraternity found in the Sacred Scripture a reality, ideals which the Holy Year puts before us once more. The ancient Jewish jubilee, in fact, called for the freeing of slaves, the cancellation of debts, the giving of assistance to the poor. Today, new forms of slavery and more tragic forms of poverty afflict vast numbers of people, especially in the so-called Third World countries. This is a cry of suffering and despair which must be heard and responded to by all those walking the path of the Jubilee. How can we ask for the grace of the Jubilee if we are insensitive to the needs of the poor, if we do not work to ensure that all have what is necessary to lead a decent life?

May the millennium which is beginning be a time when, finally, the cry of countless men and women — our brothers and sisters who do not have even the minimum necessary to live — is heard and finds a benevolent response. It is my hope that Christians at every level will become promoters of practical initiatives to ensure an equitable distribution of resources and the promotion of the complete human development of every individual.

6. “I am with you always, to the close of the age.” These words of Jesus assure us that in proclaiming and living the Gospel of charity we are not alone. Once again, during this Lent of the year 2000, he invites us to return to the Father, who is waiting for us with open arms to transform us into living and effective signs of his merciful love.

To Mary, Mother of all who suffer and Mother of Divine Mercy, we entrust our intentions and our resolutions. May she be the bright star on our journey in the new millennium.

With these sentiments I invoke upon everyone the blessings of God, One and Triune, the beginning and the end of all things, to whom we raise “to the close of the age” the hymn of blessing and praise in Christ: “Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours, Almighty Father, for ever and ever. Amen.”

From Castel Gandolfo, 21 September 1999.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for Lent 2000]

On this first Sunday of Lent, the Gospel (cf. Mt 4:1-11) narrates that, after being baptized in the River Jordan, Jesus “was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil” (v. 1). Jesus prepares himself to begin his mission as proclaimer of the Kingdom of Heaven and, just as Moses and Elijah (cf. Ex 24:18; 1 Kings 19:8) had done in the Old Testament, he does so by fasting for 40 days. He enters into “Lent”.

At the end of this period of fasting, the tempter, the devil, breaks in and tries to put Jesus to the test three times. The first temptation arises when Jesus is hungry. The devil suggests, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread” (v. 3). A challenge. But Jesus’ response is clear: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God” (v. 4). He refers to when Moses reminded the people of their long journey in the desert, through which they learned that their lives depended on the Word of God (cf. Dt 8:3).

The devil then makes a second attempt (vv. 5-6). He becomes more astute, and he too, quotes the Sacred Scripture. The strategy is clear: if you are so confident in God’s power, then experience it. For Scripture itself affirms that you will be aided by the angels (v. 6). But also in this case, Jesus does not allow himself to be confounded, because those who believe do not put God to the test, but rather they entrust themselves to God’s goodness. Thus, to the words of the Bible that Satan interpreted for his own purposes, Jesus responds with another quotation: “Again it is written; ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God’” (v. 7).

Lastly, the third attempt (vv. 8-9) reveals the devil’s true reasoning: since the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven marks the beginning of his own defeat, the evil one wants to distract Jesus from accomplishing his mission by offering him a perspective of political messianism. But Jesus rejects the idolatry of power and human glory and, in the end, drives the tempter away, and says “Begone, Satan! For it is written, ‘You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve’” (v. 10). At this point, the angels draw near to serve Jesus, who is faithful in handing himself over to the Father (cf. v. 11).

This teaches us one thing: Jesus does not dialogue with the devil. Jesus responds to the devil with the Word of God, not with his own words. In temptation, we often begin to dialogue with temptation, to dialogue with the devil: “yes, I may do this..., then I will go to confession, then this, then that...”. We must never dialogue with the devil. Jesus does two things with the devil: he either sends him away or, like in this case, he responds with the Word of God. Be attentive to this: neverdialogue with temptation, never dialogue with the devil. 

Today too, Satan breaks into people’s lives to tempt them with his enticing proposals. He mixes his own voice to the many other voices that try to tame our conscience. Messages come to us from many places, inviting us to “allow ourselves to be tempted”, to experience the intoxication of transgression. Jesus’ experience teaches us that temptation is an attempt to walk paths that are alternative to those of God. Do this, there’s no problem, then God forgives! One day of joy for yourself ...”. “But it is a sin! — No, it is nothing”. Alternative paths, paths that give us the impression of self sufficiency, of enjoying life as an end in itself. However, all this is illusory. We soon realize that the more we distance ourselves from God, the more defenceless and helpless we feel when facing life’s big problems.

May the Virgin Mary, the Mother of he who crushed the head of the serpent, help us during this Lenten period to be vigilant when confronted with temptation, not to submit ourselves to any idol of this world, and to follow Jesus in the struggle against evil. Thus we too will be victorious as Jesus.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 1 March 2020]

The Conversion, forbidden things and the Doctor of opposites

(Lk 5:27-32)

At the time when Luke wrote his Gospel (immediately after the mid-80s), the community of pagans converted to Christ in Ephesus was pervaded by lively temptations and marked by defections.

In addition, a question arises in the internal church debate about the kind of admissible participation in the meetings, and the Breaking of Bread.

The evangelist narrates the episode of «Levi», avoiding simply calling him Matthew - almost as if to accentuate his Semitic and paradoxically cultic derivation.

Thus Lk wants to describe how Jesus himself had faced the same conflict: without any ritual or sacral attention, if not to man.

According to the Master, in the journey of Faith the relationship with the distant, different, and our very discomforts or hidden abysses, have something to tell us.

The Father is a friendly Presence. His life-saving initiative is for everyone, even for those who don't know how to do anything but look after their own gain.

This diminishes and overcomes the obsession with sin that religions considered an insurmountable barrier to communion with God - by marking life.

The Good News is that the Eucharist (v.29) is not a reward for merit (v.30).

Eating together was a precious sign of sharing, even on a religious level. At banquets, legalists avoided contact with sinful members of their own people.

Instead, all are called and each can be reborn, even surpassing the pure ones.

So putting yourself among sinners is not a defeat, but truth. And sin itself is no longer just a deviation to be corrected.

This is why the figure of the new Master touched the hearts of the people: he bore the sign of Grace; communion with the lost and guilty.

But with these gestures the Son seemed to put himself in God's place (v.30).

In fact, the Father catches us without fences, at the point where we are: He doesn’t pay attention to social condition and origin.

Among the disciples, it is likely that there were quite a few members of the Palestinian resistance [guerrillas fighting against the Roman occupiers].

On the other hand, here Jesus calls a collaborator of the Romans who let himself be guided by the advantage.

As if to say: the new community of children and brothers doesn’t cultivate privileges, separations, oppressions, hatreds.

The Master always stood above the political clashes, ideological distinctions and external disputes of time.

In his Church there is a strong sign of discontinuity.

He does not invite the best or the worst to follow, but opposites - even of our own personality. He wants to dispose us «to conversion» (v.32): to make us change our point of view, mentality, principles, way of being.

In this adventure we are not called to forms of dissociation: we start from ourselves.

Thus Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationships, even within us. A New Covenant, of fruitful differences.

And the single Word «Follow Me [not others]» creates all (v.27).

Therefore, in this Lent we can put the idea of ​​“belonging” in brackets; to rely on God alone, break down barriers, and celebrate.

It’s not ‘perfection’ that makes us love the Exodus.

[Saturday after the Ashes, February 21, 2026]

But can he participate in the rite?

(Lk 5:27-32)

"Jesus does not exclude anyone from his friendship. The good proclamation of the Gospel consists precisely in this: in the offer of God's grace to the sinner! In the figure of Matthew, therefore, the Gospels propose to us a real paradox: the one who is apparently furthest from holiness can even become a model of welcoming God's mercy and allowing us to glimpse its wonderful effects in his own existence".

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 30 August 2006].

At the time when Lk writes his Gospel (just after the mid-1980s) the community of pagan converts to Christ in Ephesus was pervaded by living temptations and marked by defections.

In addition, a question arose in the internal church debate about the kind of permissible participation in meetings, and the Breaking of Bread.

The evangelist recounts the episode of 'Levi', avoiding simply calling him Matthew - as if to accentuate his Semitic and paradoxically cultic derivation.

Thus Lk wants to describe how Jesus himself had faced the same conflict: without any ritual or sacral attention, if not to man.

In short, according to the Master, in the journey of Faith, the relationship with the distant and different, and our own hardships or hidden abysses, have something to tell us.

The Father is a friendly Presence. His initiative of saved life is for all, even for those who can do no more than look after his records.

This diminishes and overcomes the obsession with sin that religions considered an insuperable barrier to communion with God - marking life.

The Glad Tidings of that pericope is that Communion is not gratification or recognition.

The Eucharist (v.29) is not a reward for merit (v.30), nor is it a discrimination in favour of sacred or adult marginalisation.

Eating together was a sign of valuable sharing, even on a religious level. Thus, at feasts the observant avoided contact with members deemed sinful.

Instead, everyone is called and everyone can be reborn, even surpassing the pure.

So to place oneself among sinners is not a defeat, but truth. And sin itself is no longer just a deviation to be corrected.

That is why the figure of the new Master touched people's hearts: he bore the sign of Grace; communion with the lost and guilty.

But with such gestures the Son seemed to put himself in God's place (v.30).

In short, the Father catches us without fences, where we are: he does not care about social status or origin.

Among the disciples it is likely that there were quite a few members of the Palestinian resistance, who opposed the Roman occupiers.

On the other hand, here Jesus calls a collaborator, and one who allowed himself to be led by advantage.

As if to say: the New Community of sons and brothers does not cultivate privileges, separation, oppression, hatred.

The Master always kept himself above the political shocks, ideological distinctions and corrupt disputes of his time.

In his Church there is a strong sign of discontinuity with religions: prohibition must be replaced by friendship.

The apostles themselves were not called to the same strict practice of segregation and division typical of ethno-purist beliefs, which prevailed around them [and was believed to reflect God's established order on earth].

Even today, the Lord does not invite the best or the worst to follow, but the opposites. A principle that also applies to the intimate life.

The recovery of opposing sides also of our personality, disposes us "to conversion" (v.32): not to rearrange the world of the Temple, but to make us change our point of view, mentality, principles, way of being.

It is not religious perfection that makes one love the exodus.

In short, prohibition must be replaced by friendship. Intransigence must be supplanted by indulgence; harshness by condescension.

In such an adventure we are not called to forms of disassociation: we start with ourselves.

Thus we arrive without hysteria at micro-relationships - and without ideological charges, at the current even devout mentality.

No more bogus goals, superficial objectives, obsessions and useless reasoning, nor mechanical habits, ancient or others', never reworked in themselves.

With such an experience of inner excavation and identification, women and men of Faith must share life with anyone - even notorious transgressors like the publican, seeing themselves in them.

And laying down the artifices: without first demanding any license, nor long disciplines of the arcane or pious practices that celebrate detachment [such as the ablutions that preceded the meal].

In the parallel text of Matthew 9:9-13, the tax collector is explicitly called by name: Matathiah, underlining the same content and identical appeal to the assemblies of believers.

Matathiah means "man of God", "given by God"; precisely "Gift of God" (Matath-Yah) [despite the anger of the official authorities]. 

According to the direct teaching of Jesus himself - even to one of the apostles - the only impurity is that of not giving space to those who ask for it because they have none.

The Lord wants full communion with sinners, and for them to be treated as brothers - full members of the same Family of God - not for the sake of some feel-good platitude: it is an invitation to recognise oneself.

Not to submit ourselves to some humiliating paternalism, but because allowing ourselves to be transformed from poor or rich into lords is a resource.

"And Levi made a great banquet for him in his house; and there was a great crowd of publicans and others who were reclining [at table] with them" (Lk 5:29 Greek text).

"They were reclining": according to the manner of celebrating solemn banquets, by free men - now all free.

How marvellous, such a monstrance! A living Body of Christ that smells of concrete Union, conviviality of differences - not of artificial rejections, by transgression!

It is this all empathic and royal awareness that smoothes out and makes credible the content of the Announcement (v.31) - even though it shocks the susceptibility of the official teachers.

From now on, the division between believers and non-believers will be far more humanising than between "born again" and not, or pure and impure.

A whole other carat - the principle of a saved life that unfolds and overflows beyond the various clubs [old-fashioned or glossy as they may be].

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the Levi in us, that is, the more rubric - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character: the rigid one and the - equally our - rubricist one.

By reintegrating the opposite sides, it will even make them flourish: they will become inclusive, indispensable, allied and intimately winning aspects of the future testimony, empowered with genuine love.

Being considered strong, capable of leading, observant, excellent, pristine, magnificent, performing, extraordinary, glorious, unfailing... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding.

It floats the character we are sitting in, above reality.

For one's growth and blossoming, more important than always winning is to learn to accept, to surrender to the point of capitulation; to make oneself considered deficient, inadequate.

Says the Tao Tê Ching [XLV]: 'Great uprightness is like sinuousness, great skill is like ineptitude, great eloquence is like stammering'.

The contrived norm (unfortunately, sometimes even unwise leadership) makes us live according to success and external glory, obtained through compartmentalisation.

Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationship, and 'covenants' of fruitful divergence - a New Covenant, even within ourselves.

Here, the Word alone 'Follow Me' (v.14) [not 'others'] creates everything.

Therefore, in this Lent we can put the taken-for-granted idea of purity, and memberships, in brackets.

All this in order to rely on God alone, to break down barriers, to put ourselves at the banquet of the marginalised (from the 'proper' order established on earth).

And to party.

The Master's Wisdom and the multifaceted art of Nature [just exemplified in the crystalline wisdom of the Tao] lead all to be incisive and human.

It is not perfection that makes us love exodus.

To internalise and live the message:

What is your spiritual and human strength? How was it generated?