Third Lent Sunday (year A) [8 March 2026]

May God bless us and the Virgin Mary protect us! Have a good Lenten journey as we pause today with Jesus at the well, a place of life-changing encounters.

 

*First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:3-7)

Looking at a map of the Sinai desert, Massa and Meriba are nowhere to be found: they are not specific geographical locations, but symbolic names. Massa means 'challenge', Meriba means 'accusation'. These names recall an episode of challenge, of protest, almost of mutiny against God. The episode takes place in Rephidim, in the middle of the desert, between Egypt and the Promised Land. The people of Israel, led by Moses, advanced from stage to stage, from one water source to another. But at Rephidim, the water ran out. In the desert, under the scorching sun, thirst quickly becomes a matter of life and death: fear grows, panic takes over. The only right response would have been trust: 'God wanted us to be free, he proved it, so he will not abandon us'. Instead, the people give in to fear and react as we often react ourselves: they look for someone to blame. And the culprit seems to be Moses, the 'government' of the time. What is the point, they say, of leaving Egypt only to die of thirst in the desert? Better to be slaves but alive than free but dead. And, as always happens, the past is idealised: they remember the full pots and abundant water of Egypt, forgetting the slavery. In reality, behind the accusation against Moses, there is a deeper accusation: against God himself. What kind of God is this, they ask themselves, who frees a people only to let them die in the desert? The protest: Why did you bring us out of Egypt? To let us, our children and our livestock die of thirst? It becomes increasingly harsh, until it turns into a real trial against God: as if God had freed the people only to get rid of them. Moses then cries out to the Lord: What shall I do with this people? A little more and they will stone me!

And God replies: he orders him to take the staff with which he had struck the Nile, to go to Mount Horeb and to strike the rock. Water gushes forth, the people drink, and their lives are saved (cf. Exodus 17). That water is not only physical relief: it is a sign that God is truly present among his people, that he has not abandoned them and that he continues to guide them on the path to freedom. For this reason, that place will no longer be called simply Rephidim, but Massah and Meribah, 'Testing and Accusation', because there Israel tested God, asking themselves: Is the Lord among us or not? In modern language: 'Is God for us or against us?' This temptation is also ours. Every trial, every suffering, reopens the same original question: can we really trust God? It is the same temptation recounted in the Garden of Eden (Genesis): the suspicion that God does not really want our good poisons human life. This is why Jesus Christ, teaching the Our Father, educates his disciples in filial trust. Do not abandon us to temptation could be translated as: "Do not let our Refidim become Massa, do not let our places of trial become places of doubt." Continuing to call God "Father," even in difficult times, means proclaiming that God is always with us, even when water seems to be lacking.

 

*Responsorial Psalm (94/95), 

In the Bible, the original text of the psalm reads as follows: "Today, if you hear his voice,

do not harden your hearts as at Massah and Meribah, as on the day of Massah in the desert, where your fathers tested me even though they had seen my works." This psalm is deeply marked by the experience of Massah and Meribah. This is why the liturgy proposes it on the third Sunday of Lent, in harmony with the story of the Exodus: it is a direct reference to the great question of trust. In a few lines, the psalm summarises the whole adventure of faith, both personal and communal. The question is always the same: can we trust God?

For Israel in the desert, this question arose at every difficulty: ' Is the Lord really among us or not?' In other words: can we rely on Him? Will He really support us? Faith, in the Bible, is first and foremost trust. It is not an abstract idea, but the act of 'relying' on God. It is no coincidence that the word 'Amen' means 'solid', 'stable': it means 'I trust, I have faith' . This is why the Bible insists so much on the verb 'to listen': when you trust, you listen. It is the heart of Israel's prayer, the Shema Israel: Hear, O Israel: the Lord is our God... You shall love Him, that is, you shall trust Him. 'To listen' means to have an open ear. The psalm says: 'You have opened my ear' (Ps 40), and the prophet Isaiah writes: The Lord God has opened my ear. Even 'obeying' in the Bible means this: listening with trust. This trust is based on experience. Israel has seen the 'work of God': liberation from Egypt. If God has broken the chains of slavery, He cannot want His people to die in the desert. This is why Israel calls him 'the Rock': it is not poetry, it is a profession of faith. At Massah and Meribah, the people doubted, but God brought water out of the rock: since then, God has been the Rock of Israel. Even the story of the Garden of Eden (Genesis) can be understood in the light of this experience: every limitation, every command, every trial can become a question of trust. Faith is believing that, even when we do not understand, God wants us to be free, alive and happy, and that from our situations of failure he can bring forth new life. Sometimes this trust resembles a 'leap of faith' when we cannot find answers. Then we can say with Simon Peter in Capernaum: 'Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life'. When Paul of Tarsus writes: ' Be reconciled to God', it is like saying: stop suspecting God, as at Massah and Meribah. And when the Gospel of Mark says, 'Repent and believe in the Gospel', it means: believe that the Good News is truly good, that God loves you. Finally, the psalm says, 'Today'. It is a liberating word: every day can be a new beginning. Every day we can relearn to listen and to trust. This is why Psalm 94/95 opens the Liturgy of the Hours every morning and Israel recites the Shema twice a day. And the psalm speaks in the plural: faith is always a journey of a people. 'We are the people He guides'. This is not poetry: it is experience. The Bible knows a people who, together, come to meet their God: "Come, let us acclaim the Lord, let us acclaim the rock of our salvation." It is faith that comes from trust, renewed today, day after day.

 

*Second Reading from the Letter of St Paul to the Romans (5:1-2, 5-8)

Chapter 5 of the Letter to the Romans marks a decisive turning point. Up to this point, Paul of Tarsus had spoken of humanity's past, of pagans and believers; now he looks to the future, a future transfigured for those who believe, thanks to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. To understand Paul's thinking clearly, we can summarise it in three fundamental statements. 1. Christ died for us while we were sinners. Paul affirms that Christ died 'for us'. This expression does not mean 'in our place', as if Jesus had simply replaced those who were condemned, but 'on our behalf'. When humanity was incapable of saving itself, marked by violence, injustice, greed for power and money, Christ took this reality upon himself and fought it to the point of giving his life.

Humanity, created for love, peace and sharing, had lost its way. Jesus comes to say, with his life and death: "I will show you to the very end what it means to love and forgive. Follow me, even if it costs me my life."

2. The Holy Spirit has been given to us: God's love dwells in us. The second great affirmation is this: the Holy Spirit has been given to us, and with him, God's own love has been poured into our hearts. It is no coincidence that Paul speaks of the Spirit for the first time when he speaks of the cross. For him, passion, cross and gift of the Spirit are inseparable. Here Paul is in complete harmony with the evangelist John. In his Gospel, during the Feast of Tabernacles, Jesus promises "living water," explaining that he was speaking of the Spirit (cf. Gospel of John (7:37-39). And at the moment of the cross, John writes: Bowing his head, Jesus gave up his spirit (Jn 19:30). The promise is fulfilled: from the cross comes the gift of the Spirit. 3. Our 'boast' is the hope of God's glory. Paul also speaks of 'pride', but he makes it clear: we cannot boast about ourselves, because everything is a gift from God; but we can boast about God's gifts, about the wonderful destiny to which we are called. The Spirit already dwells in us, and we know that one day this same Spirit will transform our bodies and hearts into the image of the risen Christ.

The account of the Transfiguration has given us a foretaste of this glory.

From Massah and Meribah to glory. What an immense journey compared to Massah and Meribah, where the people doubted God! Now, thanks to our faith in Christ, we can say with Paul: "Through him we also have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God" (5:2). In conclusion, the Spirit that Jesus has given us is the very love of God. This certainty should overcome all fear. If God's love has been poured into our hearts, then the forces of division will not have the last word.

For believers, and for all humanity, hope is well-founded, because "the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (5:5).

 

*From the Gospel according to John (4:5-42) 

Jesus meets us today at the well. And this detail is not secondary. In the Bible, the well is never just a place where water is drawn: it is a place of decisive encounters, where life changes direction. At a well, Abraham's servant  meets Rebecca, who will become Isaac's wife; at a well, Jacob  falls in love with Rachel. At the well, relationships, alliances and the future are born. When John places Jesus at a well, he is telling us that something decisive is about to happen. Jesus arrives at Jacob's well in Samaria. It is midday. Jesus is tired and sits down. The Gospel immediately shows us a God who stops, who accepts fatigue, who enters our life as it is. Salvation begins with a pause, not with a spectacular gesture. At that hour, a woman arrives. She is alone. Jesus says to her, 'Give me a drink'. It is a surprising request. Jesus, a Jew, speaks to a Samaritan woman; a man speaks to a woman; a righteous man speaks to a person whose life has been wounded. God does not enter our lives by imposing himself, but by asking. He becomes a beggar for our hearts. From that simple request, a dialogue arises that goes ever deeper. Jesus leads the woman from the external well to her inner thirst: "If you knew the gift of God..." The water that Jesus promises is not water to be drawn every day, but a spring that gushes within, a life that does not run dry. It does not eliminate daily life, but transfigures it from within. Then Jesus touches on the truth of the woman's life. He does not judge her, he does not humiliate her. In the Gospel, truth does not serve to crush, but to liberate. Only those who accept to be known can receive the gift. The woman then asks a religious question: where should God be worshipped? On the mountain or in the temple? Jesus responds by shifting the focus: no longer where, but how. 'In Spirit and truth'. God is no longer encountered in one place as opposed to another, but in a living relationship. The true temple is the heart that allows itself to be inhabited. When the woman speaks of the Messiah, Jesus makes one of the most powerful revelations in the entire Gospel: 'I am he, the one who is speaking to you'. The Messiah does not manifest himself in the temple, but in a personal dialogue, at a well, to a woman considered unclean. As in the ancient stories of wells, here too the encounter opens up a promise: but now the Bridegroom is Jesus Christ and the covenant is new. The woman leaves her jug behind. It is a simple but decisive gesture. The jug represents old certainties, repeated attempts to quench a thirst that never goes away. Those who have encountered Christ no longer live to draw water, but to bear witness. The woman runs into town and says, 'Come and see'. She does not give a lesson, she recounts an encounter. And many believe, to the point of saying, 'Now we no longer believe because of what you said, but because we ourselves have heard'. Today's Gospel tells us this: Christ does not take us away from the well of life, but transforms the well into a place of salvation. Our thirst becomes an encounter, the encounter becomes a gift, the gift becomes a source for others. This is Lent: allowing ourselves to be encountered by Christ and becoming, in turn, living water for those who are thirsty.

 

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Two Names of God

(Lk 4:24-30)

 

Jesus is annoying and generates suspicion in those who love external schemes, because he proclaims only Jubilee, rather than harsh confrontation and revenge.

In the synagogue, his ‘village’ is perplexed by this overly understanding love - just what we need.

The place of worship is where less aware believers have been educated in reverse!

Their grumpy character is the sour fruit of a pounding religiosity, which denies the right to express ideas and feelings.

The "synagogal" code has produced fake faithfuls, conditioned by a disharmonious and split personality.

Even today and from an early age, that intimate laceration manifests itself in the excess of control over openness to others.

Consequence: an accentuation of youth uncertainty - under which who knows what hatches - and a rigid adult character.

In short, the hammering that does not make the leap of Faith blocks us, prevents from understanding, and pollutes all of life.

 

Even in the time of Jesus, archaic teaching sharpened nationalisms, the very perception of trauma or violations, and paradoxically precisely the caged situations from which one wanted to escape.

Exclusive spirituality: it’s empty - whether crude or sophisticated.

Selective thinking is the worst disease of worldviews, which are then always telling us ‘how we should be’.

 

Faced with edgy convictions and conventicular illusions, the Prophet marks distance; he works to spread awareness, not reassuring images - nor disembodied ideas.

But the critical heralds violently irritate the crowd of regulars, who suddenly pass from a sort of curiosity to vengeful indignation.

As in the village, so - we read in watermark - in the Holy City [Mount Sion], from which they immediately want to throw you down (Lk 4:29). Wherever you talk about a real person and eternal dreams.

 

In the hostility that surrounds them, the intimates of the Lord openly challenge the normalized beliefs - acquired from the environment and not reworked.

For them it’s not only the analogy calculated to a petty side dish that counts. They see other goals and don't just want to “get there”.

If they are overwhelmed, they leave behind that trail of intuitions that sooner or later will make everyone reflect.

Therefore in his Friends it is the Risen who escapes from death and resumes the journey, crossing those who want to kill him (v.30).

 

At all times, the witnesses make us think: they do not seek compliments and pleasant results, but recover ‘opposite sides’ and accept the happiness of others.

They know that Uniqueness must run its course: it will be wealth for everyone, and on this point they do not allow themselves to be inhibited.

Based on the Father's personal experience, the inspired faithfuls value different approaches.

They create an unknown esteem, advocating new attitudes - different ways of relating to God.

Not, to add proselytes and consider themselves indispensable.

 

Even if «at home» (v.24: own townspeople, own country) they are uncomfortable characters for the ratified mentality, the nobody-Prophets make Jesus' Personalism survive, snatching it from those who want it to be dormant and kidnapped.

Like him, at the risk of unpopularity and without begging for approval.

 

With the scars of what has gone away, for a new Journey.

 

 

[Monday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 9, 2026]

Lk 4:24-30 (16-37)

 

Jesus' transgressions and ours (reinforcing the plot)

(Lk 4:14-22)

 

"The Spirit of the Lord was upon me, therefore he anointed me to proclaim the Good News to the poor" (Lk 4:18).

 

In ancient Israel, the patriarchal family, clan and community were the basis of social coexistence.

They guaranteed the transmission of the identity of the people and provided protection for the afflicted.

Defending the clan was also a concrete way of confirming the First Covenant.

But at the time of Jesus, Galilee suffered both the segregation dictated by Herod Antipas' policy and the oppression of official religiosity.

The ruler's spineless collaborationism had increased the number of homeless and unemployed.

The political and economic situation forced people to retreat into material and individual problems or those of a small family.

At one time, the identity glue of clan and community guaranteed a (domestic) character of a nation of solidarity, expressed in the defence and relief given to the less well-off of the people.

Now, this fraternal bond was weakened, a little congealed, almost contradicted - also due to the strict attitude of the religious authorities, fundamentalist and lovers of a saccharine purism, opposed to mixing with the less well-off classes.

The Law [written and oral] ended up being used not to favour the welcoming of the marginalised and needy, but to accentuate detachment and ghettoisation.

Situations that were leading to the collapse of the least protected sections of the population.

In short, traditional devotion - a lover of the alliance between throne and altar - instead of strengthening the sense of community was being used to accentuate hierarchies; as a weapon that legitimised a whole mentality of exclusions (and confirmed the imperial logic of dividi et impera).

 

Instead, Jesus wants to return to the Father's Dream: the ineliminable one of fraternity, the only seal to salvation history.

That is why his non-avoidable criterion was to link the Word of God to the life of the people, and in this way overcome divisions.

Thus, according to Lk, the first time Jesus enters a synagogue he messes up.

He does not go there to pray, but to teach what God's Grace (undefiled by chicanery and false teachings) is in the real existence of people.

He chooses a passage that precisely reflects the situation of the people of Galilee, oppressed by the power of the rulers, who were making the weak suffer confusion and poverty.

But his first Reading does not take into account the liturgical calendar.

Then he dares to preach in his own way and personalising the passage from Isaiah, from which he allows himself to censor the verse announcing God's vengeance.

Then he does not even proclaim the expected passage of the Law.

And he poses as if he were the master of the place of worship - in reality he is: the Risen One who 'sits' is teaching his [still Judaizing] people.

Moreover - we understand from the tone of the Gospel passage - for the Son of God the Spirit is not revealed in the extraordinary phenomena of the cosmos, but in the Year of Grace ("a year acceptable to the Lord": v.19).

The new energy that creates the authentic man is divine because it is personal and social.

This is the platform that works the turning point.

It becomes an engine, a motive and context, for a transformation of the soul and of relationships - at that time weighed down by servility, even theological [of merits].

 

In a warp of vital relationships, the better understanding of the Gift becomes a springboard for a harmonious future of liberation and justice.

Christ believes that the Father's Kingdom arises by making the present, then mired in oppression, anguish and slavery, grow from within.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (XLVI): "When the Way is in force in the world, swift horses are sent to fertilise the fields".

The emancipation offered by the Spirit is addressed not to the great, but precisely to those who suffer forms of need, defect and penury: in Jesus... now all open to the jubilee figure of the new Creation.

In short, there seems to be total antagonism and unsuitability between the Lord and the practitioners of traditional religion - heavy-handed, selective, devoted to legalisms and reprisals; pyramidal, with no way out.

Obviously, both leaders and customaries ask themselves - on a ritual and venerable basis: is it possible that the divine likeness could manifest itself in a man who is considerate towards the less affluent, who disregards official customs, does not believe in reprisals, and displays forms of uncontrolled spontaneity?

It is a reminder to us. The person of authentic Faith does not allow himself to be conditioned by habitual, useless and quiet conformities.

The common thought - habituated and agreed upon but subtly competitive - becomes a backwards energy, too normal and swampy; not propulsive for the personal and social soul. 

If, on the other hand, we allow ourselves to be accompanied by the Dream of a super-eminent gestation from the Father, we will be animated through the royal and sacred Presence that orients us to fly over repetitions, or selections, marginalisations and fallacious recriminations.

As if we move our being into a horizon and a world of friendly relations that then acts as a magnet to reality and anticipates the future.

 

Like the Master and Lord, instead of reasoning with induced thoughts and allowing ourselves to be sequestered by the heaviness of rejections and fears, let us begin to think with the images of personal Vocation, with the empathic codes of our bursting Calling.

The unknown evolutionary resources that are triggered, immediately unravel a network of paths that the "locals" may not like, but avoid the perennial conflict with missionary identity and character.

The unrepeatable and wide-meshed Vision-Relation (v.18a) - without reduction - then becomes strategic, because it possesses within itself the call of the Quintessence, and all the resources to solve the real problems.

 

To listen to the proclamation of the Gospels (v.18b) is to listen to the echo of oneself and of the little people: an intimate and social choice.

And to be in it without the dead leaves of one-sidedness - to wander freely in that same Proclamation; not neglecting precious parts of oneself, nor amputating eccentricities, or the intuition proper to the subordinate classes.

This is to be able to manifest the quiet Root (but in its energetic state), our Character (in the lovable, non-separatist Friend) - to avoid stultifying it with another bondage.

All in the instinct to be and do happy, never allowing ourselves to be imprisoned by the craving for security on the side; stagnant pursuit.

 

The Kingdom in the Spirit (cf. vv.14.18) - who knows what we need - has ceased to be a goal of mere futurity.

It is the surprise that Christ arouses in us around his proposal with an extra gear.

 

He does not neglect us: he extinguishes accusatory brooding and creatively redesigns.

He gives birth again and motivates, recovers dispersions, and strengthens the plot.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

How do I connect the Faith with the cultural and social situation?

What is Christ's Today with your Today, in the Spirit?

What is your form of apostolate that frees your brothers and sisters from the debasement of their dignity and promotes them?

 

 

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me (et vult Cubam)

 

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore he has anointed me and sent me forth to proclaim a glad tidings" (Luke 4: 18). Every minister of God must make these words spoken by Jesus of Nazareth his own life. Therefore, as I stand here among you, I want to bring you the good news of hope in God. As a servant of the Gospel, I bring you this message of love and solidarity that Jesus Christ, with his coming, offers to people of all times. It is neither an ideology nor a new economic or political system, but a path of peace, justice and authentic freedom.

4. The ideological and economic systems that have succeeded one another in recent centuries have often emphasised confrontation as a method, since they contained in their programmes the seeds of opposition and disunity. This has deeply conditioned the conception of man and relations with others. Some of these systems also claimed to reduce religion to the merely individual sphere, stripping it of any social influence or relevance. In this sense, it is worth remembering that a modern state cannot make atheism or religion one of its political orders. The State, far from any fanaticism or extreme secularism, must promote a serene social climate and adequate legislation that allows each person and each religious denomination to live their faith freely, express it in the spheres of public life and be able to count on sufficient means and space to offer their spiritual, moral and civic riches to the life of the nation.

On the other hand, in various places, a form of capitalist neo-liberalism is developing that subordinates the human person and conditions the development of peoples to the blind forces of the market, burdening the less favoured peoples with unbearable burdens from its centres of power. Thus it often happens that unsustainable economic programmes are imposed on nations as a condition for receiving new aid. In this way we witness, in the concert of nations, the exaggerated enrichment of a few at the price of the growing impoverishment of the many, so that the rich get richer and the poor get poorer.

5. Dear brothers: the Church is a teacher in humanity. Therefore, in the face of these systems, she proposes the culture of love and life, restoring to humanity the hope and transforming power of love, lived in the unity willed by Christ. This requires a path of reconciliation, dialogue and fraternal acceptance of one's neighbour, whoever he or she may be. This can be called the social Gospel of the Church.

The Church, in carrying out its mission, proposes to the world a new justice, the justice of the Kingdom of God (cf. Mt 6:33). On several occasions I have referred to social issues. It is necessary to keep talking about them as long as there is injustice in the world, however small it may be, since otherwise the Church would not prove faithful to the mission entrusted to her by Jesus Christ. What is at stake is man, the person in the flesh. Even if times and circumstances change, there are always people who need the voice of the Church to acknowledge their anguish, pain and misery. Those who find themselves in such situations can be assured that they will not be defrauded, for the Church is with them and the Pope embraces, with his heart and his word of encouragement, all those who suffer injustice.

(John Paul II, after being applauded at length, added)

I am not against applause, because when you applaud the Pope can rest a little.

The teachings of Jesus retain their vigour intact on the threshold of the year 2000. They are valid for all of you, my dear brothers. In the search for the justice of the Kingdom, we cannot stop in the face of difficulties and misunderstandings. If the Master's invitation to justice, service and love is accepted as Good News, then hearts are enlarged, criteria are transformed and the culture of love and life is born. This is the great change that society awaits and needs; it can only be achieved if first the conversion of each person's heart takes place as a condition for the necessary changes in the structures of society.

6. "The Spirit of the Lord has sent me to proclaim release to the captives (...) to set at liberty those who are oppressed" (Lk 4:18). The good news of Jesus must be accompanied by a proclamation of freedom, based on the solid foundation of truth: "If you remain faithful to my word, you will indeed be my disciples; you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (John 8: 31-32). The truth to which Jesus refers is not just the intellectual understanding of reality, but the truth about man and his transcendent condition, his rights and duties, his greatness and limitations. It is the same truth that Jesus proclaimed with his life, reaffirmed before Pilate and, by his silence, before Herod; it is the same truth that led him to the salvific cross and glorious resurrection.

Freedom that is not grounded in truth conditions man to such an extent that it sometimes makes him the object rather than the subject of the social, cultural, economic and political context, leaving him almost totally deprived of initiative with regard to personal development. At other times, this freedom is individualistic and, taking no account of the freedom of others, locks man into his own selfishness. The conquest of freedom in responsibility is an unavoidable task for every person. For Christians, the freedom of God's children is not only a gift and a task; its attainment also implies an invaluable witness and a genuine contribution to the liberation of the entire human race. This liberation is not reduced to social and political aspects, but reaches its fullness in the exercise of freedom of conscience, the basis and foundation of other human rights.

(Responding to the invocation raised by the crowd: "The Pope lives and wants us all to be free!", John Paul II added:)

Yes, he lives with that freedom to which Christ has set you free.

For many of today's political and economic systems, the greatest challenge continues to be to combine freedom and social justice, freedom and solidarity, without any of them being relegated to a lower level. In this sense, the Social Doctrine of the Church constitutes an effort of reflection and a proposal that seeks to enlighten and reconcile the relationship between the inalienable rights of every man and social needs, so that the person may fulfil his deepest aspirations and his own integral realisation according to his condition as a child of God and citizen. Consequently, the Catholic laity must contribute to this realisation through the application of the Church's social teachings in the various environments, open to all people of good will.

7. In the Gospel proclaimed today, justice appears intimately linked to truth. This is also observed in the lucid thinking of the Fathers of the Fatherland. The Servant of God Father Félix Varela, animated by Christian faith and fidelity to his priestly ministry, sowed in the hearts of the Cuban people the seeds of justice and freedom that he dreamed of seeing germinate in a free and independent Cuba. 

José Martí's doctrine of love among all men has profoundly evangelical roots, thus overcoming the false conflict between faith in God and love and service to the homeland. Martí writes: 'Pure, unselfish, persecuted, martyred, poetic and simple, the religion of the Nazarene has seduced all honest men... Every people needs to be religious. It must be so not only in its essence, but also for its utility.... A non-religious people is doomed to die, for nothing in it nourishes virtue. Human injustice despises it; it is necessary for heavenly justice to guarantee it'.

As you know, Cuba possesses a Christian soul, and this has led it to have a universal vocation. Called to overcome its isolation, it must open up to the world, and the world must draw closer to Cuba, to its people, to its children, who undoubtedly represent its greatest wealth. The time has come to embark on the new paths that the times of renewal in which we live demand, as we approach the Third Millennium of the Christian era!

8. Dear brothers: God has blessed this people with authentic formators of the national conscience, clear and firm exponents of the Christian faith, which is the most valid support of virtue and love. Today the Bishops, together with priests, consecrated men and women and the lay faithful, strive to build bridges to bring minds and hearts closer together, propitiating and consolidating peace, preparing the civilisation of love and justice. I am here among you as a messenger of truth and hope. That is why I wish to repeat my appeal to let Jesus Christ enlighten you, to accept without reserve the splendour of his truth, so that all may follow the path of unity through love and solidarity, avoiding exclusion, isolation and confrontation, which are contrary to the will of the God-Love.

May the Holy Spirit enlighten with his gifts all those who have different responsibilities towards this people, whom I hold in my heart. May the "Virgen de la Caridad de El Cobre", Queen of Cuba, obtain for her children the gifts of peace, progress and happiness.

This wind today is very significant, because the wind symbolises the Holy Spirit. "Spiritus spirat ubi vult, Spiritus vult spirare in Cuba". The last words are in Latin because Cuba also belongs to the Latin tradition. Latin America, Latin Cuba, Latin language! "Spiritus spirat ubi vult et vult Cubam'. Goodbye.

(John Paul II, homily "José Martí" Square Havana 25 January 1998)

 

 

Person, extemporaneity, synagogues

 

Two Names of God

(Lk 4:21-30)

 

Today's Gospel - taken from the fourth chapter of St Luke - is a continuation of last Sunday's Gospel. We are still in the synagogue in Nazareth, the town where Jesus grew up and where everyone knew him and his family. Now, after a period of absence, He has returned in a new way: during the Sabbath liturgy, He reads a prophecy from Isaiah about the Messiah and announces its fulfilment, implying that the word refers to Him, that Isaiah has spoken of Him. This fact provokes the bewilderment of the Nazarenes: on the one hand, "all bore witness to him and were amazed at the words of grace that came out of his mouth" (Lk 4:22); St Mark reports that many said: "Where do these things come from him? And what wisdom is this that has been given him?" (6:2). On the other hand, however, his countrymen know him all too well: 'He is one like us', they say, 'His pretension can only be presumption' (cf. The Infancy of Jesus, 11). "Is not this the son of Joseph?" (Lk 4:22), as if to say: a carpenter from Nazareth, what aspirations can he have?

Precisely knowing this closure, which confirms the proverb "no prophet is welcome in his own country", Jesus addresses the people in the synagogue with words that sound like a provocation. He mentions two miracles performed by the great prophets Elijah and Elisha in favour of non-Israelites, to show that sometimes there is more faith outside Israel. At that point the reaction is unanimous: everyone gets up and throws him out, and even tries to throw him off a cliff, but he calmly sovereignly passes through the angry people and leaves. At this point the question arises: why did Jesus want to provoke this rupture? At first, the people admired him, and perhaps he could have obtained some consensus... But this is precisely the point: Jesus did not come to seek the consensus of men, but - as he will say at the end to Pilate - to "bear witness to the truth" (Jn 18:37). The true prophet does not obey anyone other than God and puts himself at the service of the truth, ready to pay for it himself. It is true that Jesus is the prophet of love, but love has its own truth. Indeed, love and truth are two names of the same reality, two names of God. Today's liturgy also resounds with these words of St Paul: "Charity ... does not boast, is not puffed up with pride, is not disrespectful, does not seek its own interest, is not angry, does not take account of evil received, does not rejoice in injustice, but rejoices in the truth" (1 Cor 13:4-6). Believing in God means renouncing one's prejudices and accepting the concrete face in which He revealed Himself: the man Jesus of Nazareth. And this way also leads to recognising and serving Him in others.

In this, Mary's attitude is illuminating. Who more than she was familiar with the humanity of Jesus? But she was never as scandalised by it as the people of Nazareth. She kept the mystery in her heart and knew how to welcome it again and again, on the path of faith, until the night of the Cross and the full light of the Resurrection. May Mary also help us to tread this path with fidelity and joy.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 3 February 2013].

 

Jesus is annoying and generates suspicion in those who love external schemes, because he proclaims only Jubilee, instead of harsh confrontation and vengeance.

In the synagogue his village is puzzled by this overly understanding love - just what we need.

The place of worship is where believers have been brought up backwards!

Their grumpy character is the unripe fruit of a hammering religiosity, which denies the right to express ideas and feelings.

The 'synagogal' code has produced fake believers, conditioned by a disharmonious and split personality.

Even today and from an early age, this intimate laceration manifests itself in the over-controlling of openness to others.

Consequence: an accentuation of youthful uncertainty - under which who knows what smoulders - and a rigid character as adults.

In short, the religious hammering that does not make the leap of faith blocks us, prevents us from understanding, and pollutes our whole life.

 

Even in Jesus' time, archaic teaching exacerbated nationalism, the very perception of trauma or violation, and paradoxically the very caged situations from which one wanted to get out.

Exclusive spirituality: it is empty - crude or sophisticated.

Selective thinking is the worst disease of worldviews - which are then always telling us how we should be.

So in concrete life not a few believers prefer to have friends without conformist blindness or the same bonds of belonging.

 

On closer inspection, even the most devout lay realities manifest a pronounced and strange dichotomy of relationships - tribal and otherwise.

Pope Francis expressed it crisply:

"It is a scandal that of people who go to church, who are there every day and then live hating others and speaking ill of people: better to live as an atheist than to give a counter-witness to being a Christian".

The real world awakens and stimulates flexibility of standards, it does not inculcate some old-fashioned, hypnosis-like truism.

Today's global reality helps to blunt the edges of conventicle [which have their regurgitations, in terms of seduction and sucking].

In the face of such beliefs and illusions, the Prophet marks distance; he works to spread awareness, not reassuring images - nor disembodied ideas.

But the critical heralds violently irritate the crowd of regulars, who suddenly turn from curiosity to vengeful indignation.

As in the small town, so - we read in a watermark - in the Holy City [Mount Zion] from which they immediately want to throw you down (Lk 4:29).

Wherever there is talk of a real person and eternal dreams: his own, not others'.

 

In the hostility that surrounds them, the Lord's intimates openly challenge normalised beliefs, acquired from the environment and not reworked.

For them, it is not only the calculated analogy to a mean outline that counts. They see other goals and do not just want to 'get there'.

If they are overwhelmed, they leave behind them that trail of intuition that will sooner or later make both harmful clansmen and useless opportunists reflect.

Thus, in Friends and Brothers it is the Risen One himself who escapes. And he resumes the path, crossing those who want to do him in (v. 30) for reasons of self-interest or neighbourhood advantage.

 

At all times, the witnesses make one think: they do not seek compliments and pleasant results, but recover the opposite sides and accept the happiness of others.

They know that Oneness must run its course: it will be wealth for all, and on this point they do not let themselves be inhibited by nomenclature.

Although surrounded by the envious and deadly hatred of cunning idiots and established synagogues, they proclaim Love in Truth - neither burine hoaxes (approved as empty) nor ulterior motives (solid utility).

In fact, without milking and shearing the uninformed, such missionaries give impetus to the courage and growth of others, to the autonomy of choices.

All this, fostering the coexistence of the invisible and despised; in an atmosphere of understanding and spontaneity. 

They love the luxuriance of life, so they discriminate between religion and Faith: they do not stand as repeaters of doctrines, prescriptions, customs.

Based on the Father's personal experience, the inspired faithful value different approaches, creating an unknown esteem.

They confront young sectarian monsters [the Pontiff would say], old marpions and their fences, with an open face, advocating new attitudes - different ways of relating to God.

Not to add proselytes and consider themselves indispensable.

Even though 'at home' (v. 24) they are inconvenient characters for the ratified mentality, the none-Prophets make Jesus' personalism survive, wrenching it from those who want it dormant and sequestered.

Like Him, at the risk of unpopularity and without begging for approval.

 

With the scars of what is gone, for a new Journey.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

In the 'homeland' are you considered a local child, or a prophet? A ratified character, or inconvenient? In fashion, or unpopular?

Is your testimony transgressive or conformist? Does it make the personalism of Jesus survive, snatching it from those who want it dormant and sequestered?

 

 

God wants faith, they want miracles: God for their own benefit

Last Sunday, the liturgy had proposed to us the episode in the synagogue of Nazareth, where Jesus reads a passage from the prophet Isaiah and at the end reveals that those words are fulfilled "today", in Him. Jesus presents Himself as the one on whom the Spirit of the Lord has rested, the Holy Spirit who consecrated Him and sent Him to fulfil the mission of salvation on behalf of humanity. Today's Gospel (cf. Lk 4:21-30) is the continuation of that story and shows us the amazement of his fellow citizens at seeing that one of their countrymen, "the son of Joseph" (v. 22), claims to be the Christ, the Father's envoy.

Jesus, with his ability to penetrate minds and hearts, immediately understands what his countrymen think. They think that, since He is one of them, He must prove this strange "claim" of His by performing miracles there, in Nazareth, as He did in the neighbouring countries (cf. v. 23). But Jesus does not want and cannot accept this logic, because it does not correspond to God's plan: God wants faith, they want miracles, signs; God wants to save everyone, and they want a Messiah for their own benefit. And to explain God's logic, Jesus brings the example of two great ancient prophets: Elijah and Elisha, whom God had sent to heal and save people who were not Jewish, from other peoples, but who had trusted his word.

Faced with this invitation to open their hearts to the gratuitousness and universality of salvation, the citizens of Nazareth rebel, and even assume an aggressive attitude, which degenerates to the point that "they got up and drove him out of the city and led him to the edge of the mountain [...], to throw him down" (v. 29). The admiration of the first moment turned into an aggression, a rebellion against Him.

And this Gospel shows us that Jesus' public ministry begins with a rejection and a threat of death, paradoxically precisely from his fellow citizens. Jesus, in living the mission entrusted to him by the Father, knows well that he must face fatigue, rejection, persecution and defeat. A price that, yesterday as today, authentic prophecy is called upon to pay. The harsh rejection, however, does not discourage Jesus, nor does it stop the journey and fruitfulness of his prophetic action. He goes on his way (cf. v. 30), trusting in the Father's love.

Even today, the world needs to see in the Lord's disciples prophets, that is, people who are courageous and persevering in responding to the Christian vocation. People who follow the 'thrust' of the Holy Spirit, who sends them to announce hope and salvation to the poor and excluded; people who follow the logic of faith and not of miracles; people dedicated to the service of all, without privileges and exclusions. In short: people who are open to accepting the Father's will within themselves and are committed to faithfully witnessing it to others.

Let us pray to Mary Most Holy, that we may grow and walk in the same apostolic ardour for the Kingdom of God that animated Jesus' mission.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 3 February 2019].

 

 

Liberation from quietism and automatic mentality

(Lk 4:31-37)

 

In the third Gospel, the first signs of the Lord are the quiet escape from death threats (waved by his people!) and the healing of the possessed.

In such a way of narrating the story of Jesus, Lk indicates the priorities that his communities were living: first of all, there was a need to suspend the intimate struggles, inculcated by the Judaizing tradition and its 'knowing how to be in the world'.

In the stubborn and conformist village of Nazareth, the Master is unable to communicate his newness, and is forced to change residence.

He does not resign, indeed: Capernaum was at the crossroads of important roads, which facilitated contact and dissemination. 

Among people from all walks of life, the Son of God wanted to create a consciousness that was highly critical of the standardised doctrines of religious leaders.

He did not mechanically quote the - modest - teachings of the authorities, but started from his own life experience and living relationship with the Father.

He did not seek support, neither for safe living nor for the proclamation - thus he created clear minds and an unusual quiver.

In this way, he suspended in souls the usual doubts of conscience, the usual battles inoculated by the customary-doctrinal-moral cloak, and his inner lacerations.

In a transparent and totally non-artificial manner, Christ [in his] still escapes evil and struggles against the plagiarising, reductive forces of our personality.

In the mentality of automatisms devoid of personal faith, it seemed at the time that one almost had to submit to the powers of external conviction.

All this to avoid being marginalised by the 'nation' [and by 'groups' governed by conformity].

This also applies to us.

The duty to participate in collective rituals - here the Sabbath in the synagogue - risks dampening the intimate nostalgia for "ourselves" that provides nourishment for vocational exceptionality.

Originality in the history of salvation which, on the contrary, we could become, without the ball and chain of certain rules of quiet living, to the minimum - rhythm of customary social moments and symbolic days [sometimes emptied of meaning].

(All in the scruffy, mechanical ways that we know by heart, and no longer want, because we feel they do not make us reach a higher level).

The Master in us still faces the power that reduces people to the condition of ease without originality: a grey, perpetual trance allergic to differences.

Apathy that produces swamps and early camps, where no one protests but neither is surprised.

 

In the Gospel, the person who suddenly sparks sparks was always a quiet assembly-goer, who wearily dragged his spiritual life in small, colourless circles, lacking in breadth and rhythm.

But the Word of the Lord has a real charge in it: the power of the bliss of living, of creating, of loving in truth - which does not hate eccentric characteristics.

Where such a call comes, all the demons you don't expect are unmasked and leap out of their lairs [previously simulated, agreed upon, artificially homologated].

Those who meet Christ are toppled from their abulic seat, sitting upright; they see their certainties thrown to the wind

Reversal that allows hidden or repressed facets to play their part - even if they are not 'as they should be'.

In short, the Gospel invites us to embrace all that is in us, as it is, unmitigated; multiplying our energies - for within lurks the best of our Call to personal Mission.

In Christ, our multifaceted (albeit contradictory) faces can take the field together, no longer repressing the precious territories of soul, essence, character, of another persuasion - even a distant or unrepeatably singular one.

The habitué of the assemblies is indeed disturbed and questioned, but at least he does not remain dumbfounded as before: he makes a conspicuous progress from the slumbering and ritual existence - bent, repetitive, dull and fake.

He is freed face to face from all the propaganda and clichés that previously kept him quiet, subjugated, on the leash of the 'authorities' and the conservative environment that repelled all enthusiasm.

The dirge of the sacred place and time was a litany that all in all could stand, but the critical proposal of Jesus restores consciousness and freedom from inculcated territories, instilling esteem, capacity for thought and will to do.

Now no longer on the sidelines, but in the midst of the people (v.35).

From the weariness of purely cultic habituation, and even through a protest that breaks apathy, the divine Person and his Call awaken us. They compel us to a saved life of new witness that seemed impossible.

Without much ado and to make us run free of the hypocrisies concealed within, the Lord also brings out all the rages, disagreements and alienations in us.

It is no longer enough to make up the numbers (lined up and covered), now we have to choose.

 

The difference between common religiosity and Faith? The wonder of a deep, personal, unexpected Happiness.

Indeed, away from habitual and mental burdens, we will extinguish wars with ourselves and go hand in hand even with our faults - discovering their hidden fruitfulness.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

Has the encounter with the living Jesus in the Church freed you from forms of alienation and restored you to yourself, or has it made you go back to asking for support, sacred confirmations and quiet - as if you were frequenting a relaxation zone?

Today’s Gospel — taken from chapter four of St Luke — is the continuation of last Sunday’s Gospel. Once again we find ourselves in the Synagogue of Nazareth, the village where Jesus grew up, where every knew him and his family. Then, after a period of absence, he returned there in a new way: during the Sabbath liturgy he read a prophecy on the Messiah by Isaiah and announced its fulfilment, making it clear that this word referred to him, that Isaiah had spoken about him. The event puzzled the Nazarenes: on the one hand they “all spoke well of him and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth” (Lk 4:22).

St Mark reported what many were saying: “Where did this man get all this? What is the wisdom given to him?” (6:2). On the other hand, however, his fellow villagers knew him too well: “He is one like us”, they say, “His claim can only be a presumption (cf. The Infancy Narratives, English edition, p. 3). “Is not this Joseph’s son?” (Lk 4:22), as if to say “what can a carpenter from Nazareth aspire to?”.

Well-acquainted with this imperviousness which confirms the proverb: “no prophet is acceptable in his own country”, to the people in the synagogue Jesus addressed words that resonate like a provocation. He cited two miracles wrought by the great prophets Elijah and Elisha for men who were not Israelites in order to demonstrate that faith is sometimes stronger outside Israel. At this point there was a unanimous reaction. All the people got to their feet and drove him away; and they even tried to push him off a precipice. However, passing through the midst of the angry mob with supreme calmness he went away. At this point it comes naturally to wonder: why ever did Jesus want to stir up this antagonism? At the outset the people admired him and he might perhaps have been able to obtain a certain consensus.... But this is exactly the point: Jesus did not come to seek the agreement of men and women but rather — as he was to say to Pilate in the end — “to bear witness to the truth” (Jn 18:37). The true prophet does not obey others as he does God, and puts himself at the service of the truth, ready to pay in person. It is true that Jesus was a prophet of love, but love has a truth of its own. Indeed, love and truth are two names of the same reality, two names of God.

In today’s liturgy these words of St Paul also ring out: “Love is not... boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right” (1 Cor 13:43-6). Believing in God means giving up our own prejudices and accepting the actual face in which he revealed himself: Jesus of Nazareth the man. And this process also leads to recognizing him and to serving him in others.

On this path Mary’s attitude is enlightening. Who could be more closely acquainted than her with the humanity of Jesus? Yet she was never shocked by him as were his fellow Nazarenes. She cherished this mystery in her heart and was always and ever better able to accept it on the journey of faith, even to the night of the Cross and the full brilliance of the Resurrection. May Mary also always help us to continue faithfully and joyfully on this journey.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 3 February 2013]

7. In his activity as a teacher, which began in Nazareth and extended to Galilee and Judea up to the capital, Jerusalem, Jesus knows how to grasp and make the most of the abundant fruits present in the religious tradition of Israel. He penetrates it with new intelligence, brings out its vital values, and highlights its prophetic perspectives. He does not hesitate to denounce men's deviations from the designs of the God of the covenant.

In this way he works, within the one and the same divine revelation, the passage from the "old" to the "new", without abolishing the Law, but instead bringing it to its full fulfilment (cf. Mt 5:17). This is the thought with which the Letter to the Hebrews opens: "God, who had already spoken in ancient times many times and in various ways to the fathers through the prophets, has lately, in these days, spoken to us through his Son . . ." (Heb 1:1).

8. This transition from the 'old' to the 'new' characterises the entire teaching of the 'Prophet' of Nazareth. A particularly clear example is the Sermon on the Mount in the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus says: "You have heard that it was said to the ancients: Do not kill . . . But I say unto you, that whosoever is angry with his brother shall be brought into judgment' (Matthew 5: 21-22). "You have heard that it was said, Do not commit adultery; but I say to you, whoever looks at a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart" (Mt 5:27-28). "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy; but I say to you, love your enemies and pray for your persecutors . . ." (Mt 5:43-44).

Teaching in this way, Jesus at the same time declares: "Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish, but to fulfil" (cf. Mt 5:17).

9. This "fulfilment" is a key-word that refers not only to the teaching of the truth revealed by God, but also to the whole history of Israel, that is, of the people whose son Jesus is. This extraordinary history, guided from the beginning by the powerful hand of the God of the covenant, finds its fulfilment in Jesus. The plan that the God of the covenant had inscribed in this history from the beginning, making it the history of salvation, tended towards the "fullness of time" (Gal 4:4), which is realised in Jesus Christ. The Prophet of Nazareth does not hesitate to speak of this from his very first speech in the synagogue of his city.

10. Particularly eloquent are the words of Jesus reported in the Gospel of John when he says to his opponents: "Abraham, your father, rejoiced in the hope of seeing my day . . .", and in the face of their disbelief: "Are you not yet fifty years old and have you seen Abraham?", Jesus confirms even more explicitly: "Verily, verily, I say unto you, before Abraham was, I am" (John 8: 56-58). It is evident that Jesus affirms, not only that he is the fulfilment of God's salvific designs, inscribed in Israel's history since the time of Abraham, but that his existence precedes Abraham's time, to the point of identifying himself as "he who is" (Ex 3:14). But for this very reason he, Jesus Christ, is the fulfilment of Israel's history, because he "surpasses" this history with his mystery.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 4 February 1987]

In today’s liturgy, the Gospel recounts Jesus’ first sermon in his home town, Nazareth. The outcome is bitter: instead of receiving approval, Jesus finds incomprehension and even hostility (cf. Lk 4:21-30). His fellow villagers wanted miracles and prodigious signs rather than a word of truth. The Lord does not perform them and they reject him, because they say they already knew him as a child: he is Joseph’s son (cf. v. 22), and so on. Jesus therefore utters a phrase that has become proverbial: “No prophet is acceptable in his own country” (v. 24).

These words reveal that Jesus’ failure was not entirely unexpected. He knew his people, he knew the heart of his people, he knew the risk he was running. He took rejection into account. And, so, we may ask ourselves: but if it was like this, if he foresaw a failure, why did he go to his home town all the same? Why do good to people who are not willing to accept you? It is a question that we too often ask ourselves. But it is a question that helps us understand God better. Faced with our closures, he does not withdraw: he does not put brakes on his love . Faced with our closures, he goes forward. We see a reflection of this in parents who are aware of the ingratitude of their children, but do not stop loving them and doing good to them, because of this. God is the same, but at a much higher level. And today he invites us too to believe in good, to leave no stone unturned in doing good.

However, in what happens in Nazareth we also find something else. The hostility towards Jesus from his people provokes us: they were not welcoming — what about us? To verify this, let us look at the models of acceptance that Jesus proposes today, to us and to his fellow countrymen. They are two foreigners: a widow from Sarepta of Sidon and Naaman, the Syrian. Both of them welcomed prophets: the former Elijah, the latter, Elisha. But it was not an easy reception, it went through trials. The widow welcomed Elijah, despite the famine and although the prophet was persecuted (cf. 1 Kings 17:7-16). He was persecuted for political and religious reasons. Naaman, on the other hand, despite being a person of the highest order, accepted the request of the prophet Elisha, who led him to humble himself, to bathe seven times in a river (cf. 2 Kings 5:1-14), as if he were an ignorant child. The widow and Naaman, in short, accepted through willingness and humility . The way to welcome God is always to be willing, to welcome him and to be humble. Faith passes through here: willingness and humility. The widow and Naaman did not reject the ways of God and his prophets; they were docile, not rigid and closed.

Brothers and sisters, Jesus also goes the way of the prophets: he presents himself as we would not expect. He is not found by those who seek miracles — if we look for miracles, we will not find Jesus — by those who seek new sensations, intimate experiences, strange things; those who seek a faith made up of power and external signs. No, they will not find him. Instead, he is found only by those who accept his ways and his challenges, without complaint, without suspicion, without criticism and long faces. In other words, Jesus asks you to welcome him in the daily reality in which you live; in the Church of today, as it is; in those who are close to you every day; in the reality of those in need, in the problems of your family, in your parents, in your children, in grandparents, welcoming God there. He is there, inviting us to purify ourselves in the river of willingness and in many healthy baths of humility. It takes humility to encounter God, to allow ourselves to be encountered by him.

And are we welcoming or do we resemble his fellow countrymen, who believed they knew everything about him? “I studied theology, I took that course in catechesis… I know everything about Jesus!” Yes, like a fool! Don’t be foolish, you don’t know Jesus. Perhaps, after many years as believers, we think we know the Lord well, very often with our ideas and our judgments. The risk is that we become accustomed, we get used to Jesus. And in this way, how do we grow accustomed? By closing ourselves off, closing ourselves off to his newness, in the moment he knocks on your door and tells you something new, and wants to enter into you. We must stop being fixed in our positions. The Lord asks for an open mind and a simple heart. And when a person has an open mind, a simple heart, he or she has the capacity to be surprised, to be amazed. The Lord always surprises us: this is the beauty of the encounter with Jesus. May Our Lady, model of humility and willingness, show us the way to welcome Jesus.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 30 January 2022]

(Jn 4:5-42)

 

In the passage of the Samaritan woman, Jn contrasts the mechanisms of religiosity and the dynamics of Faith, comparing the images of an ancient Well to a fresh Source of Water [cf. Greek text].

While on a well one has to stoop to draw with effort, the Source is there at disposal. It does not absorb energies, it activates them.

And from the perspective of Faith, it becomes overall, generative: cosmic outside and acutely divine within.

One can even immerse oneself in it without danger of becoming trapped and drowning.

The ever-flowing and ever-new pool of water is every proposal that Providence offers to grasp in the events of the inner life and in the ever-changing reality.

The water in the well is at the bottom of a dark tunnel - only here and there animated by reflections, from distant light sources, external.

It is almost stagnant and does not definitively cure the thirst, rather it demands to be drawn again and again, with undiminished sweat.

Sometimes the bucket with which one claims to draw the Person of the Christ who is already there, is pulled up badly, wobbles and falls down - with no chance of recovery.

The common religious sense leads to having to continually recover or procure perfections - by centring examination, therapy, and relationships, on the self: examine, detect, correct, redo; verify and start over again.

In the end exhausted, disappointed, annoyed.

Devotion and regulatory fulfilments do not produce satiety - we know this well - indeed, paradoxically, they accentuate God Face thirst.

In such growing laceration, unfulfilled desire threatens to ruin the main lines of our personality, and the impulse for the Path towards Another realisation - imprecise perhaps, but Ours.

Despite the constant forced return to drink and despite the 'certainty' of doctrines and disciplines, when religious piety becomes self-centred, it produces existential dissatisfaction and spiritual bewilderment.

 

Living Faith is a Relationship. It proceeds from a God who reveals Himself, questions us and calls by name.

In evolution, this dynamic establishes an invisible Presence in the hidden Self, unquenchable fire of our founding Eros.

Relationship of the believer with God has several approaches. A first stage is that of the Faith-Assent: the person recognises himself in a knowledges’ world that corresponds to her/him.

But already in the First Testament, Faith speaks of a stronger bond: the reliance of the Bride who has full confidence on the Bridegroom.

Faith lived in the Spirit of the Risen One then takes on other facets, which are decisive in bringing colour, maturity, fullness, and joy of life.

The son of God makes himself brother and intimate with the Lord not simply by a common believing, even passionate, but by a personal inner action.

Step which is precisely a kind of Appropriation. Faith-Magnet: it is configured like a ‘coup de main’.

The soul-bride reads the sign of the times, interprets the surrounding reality, own inclinations... and grasping the brought, meaning and scope of the Future, anticipates and actualizes it.

But the ultimate (I would say the pinnacle) perhaps even more “perfect” stage, of such Faith-Trigger is that of Faith-Marvel.

Revelation-Amazement: it configures the specific belief of the Incarnation, because it recognises the Treasures that are hidden behind our dark sides.

Pearls that will be a wonder to discover.

In this way, the pierced cocoon will make its Butterfly, which is not “confirmation”, or prototype-approved construction, but Enchantment.

It is magic and a new pact of sunsets and sunrises. Unveiling, from a glowing magma, that gushes forth.

 

Christ sits on the Source, not on the well. Rather, he overlaps it.

 

 

[3rd Sunday of Lent (year A), March 8, 2026]

Jn 4:5-42 (5-54)

 

In the passage about the Samaritan woman, John contrasts the mechanisms of religiosity with the dynamics of Faith, comparing the images of an ancient well with a fresh spring of water [cf. Greek text].

While we bend over a well and have to draw water with effort, the spring is readily available. We can even dive into it without the danger of getting trapped and drowning.

The ever-flowing and ever-new spring of water is the Person of Christ: a gift that Providence offers us to grasp in the circumstances of real life, in perpetual becoming.

The water in the well is at the bottom of a dark tunnel - animated only by reflections here and there (coming from distant external light sources).

It is almost stagnant - and does not definitively quench thirst, but rather requires us to draw it again with the same effort.

Sometimes the bucket used to draw it is mishandled, swings and falls down - with no possibility of recovery.

Common religious sense leads us to continually have to recapture or seek perfection - focusing the examination, therapy, and relationships on ourselves: examining, identifying, correcting, redoing; verifying and starting all over again.

Exhausted, disappointed, irritated.

Devotion and fulfilment do not produce satiety - we know this well - on the contrary, paradoxically, they accentuate the thirst.

The procession of external obedience and mannered respectability, to be offered continuously to ingratiate oneself with this silent God and his elect (equally indifferent), unnerves the soul.

In this growing, albeit unexpressed, inner turmoil, unfulfilled desire risks ruining the foundations of our personality - and the impulse to walk the path towards another realisation, perhaps vague but ours.

Despite the constant forced return to drink and despite the 'certainty' of doctrines and disciplines, religious piety [which spirals] ultimately produces total existential dissatisfaction and spiritual bewilderment.

 

Living Faith is not a kind of object or ideology (which one may or may not have), but rather a Relationship.

It proceeds from a God who reveals himself, challenges us and calls us by name. And it addresses the deepest layers of being and reality.

Its varied, rich, open face does not coincide with common thinking, but rather intercepts our desire for fullness of life. In this way, it corresponds to us and conquers us.

In this relationship, Faith, which is born precisely from listening, is ignited when the initiative of the Father, who manifests and reveals himself in a proposal that comes to us, is accepted and not rejected.

This is not a one-off circumstance, but something that gushes forth and proceeds wave after wave throughout our existence. With all the surprises that time brings.

Incandescent magma, which from time to time challenges us, sabotages us or astounds us.

In evolution, this dynamic establishes an invisible Presence in the hidden Self, the unquenchable living fire of our founding Eros.

A perceptible echo - even in the genius of time, in the furrows of personal history, in the folds of events and relationships, advice, (opposing) evaluations and even fractures.

 

The Relationship of Faith has different approaches. The first stage is that of Faith Assent: the person recognises themselves in a world of knowledge that corresponds to them.

It is a very dignified level, but common to all religions and philosophies.

Scrutinising the Word, we understand that the specificity of biblical Faith concerns concrete existence much more than thought or discipline: it has a different character from codes, it is spousal.

Already in the First Testament, Faith is typically that trust of the Bride [in Hebrew, Israel is feminine] who has complete confidence in the Bridegroom.

She knows that by relying on God-With, she will flourish authentically and enjoy the fullness of life, even when going through unpleasant vicissitudes.

 

Faith lived in the Spirit of the Risen One enjoys other facets, which are decisive in giving colour to our journey in the world and to our full maturation, with the joy of living.

[In everything, it is essential both to listen to Sacred Scripture and to move from the whirlwind of thoughts that fragment our inner eye to perception, that is, to a more intense contemplative gaze that knows how to rest on ourselves and on things].

 

The child of God becomes a brother and intimate friend of the Lord not simply through a common, even passionate belief, but through a personal inner action.

The third step of Christological faith is precisely a kind of appropriation: the subject recognises the meaning of the Gospels in events and in himself.

He now identifies with the episodes of the Lord, without neurosis or caricature. From the Word within, he extracts solutions in a natural, immediate way.

Now sure of the friendly reciprocity experienced in the Gifts, he takes possession of the meek and strong heart of the Living One in him, with a stroke of the hand and without any prescribed merit.

Quoting St. Bernard, Alfonso Maria de' Liguori states: ' The merit that I lack to enter Paradise, I usurp from the merits of Jesus Christ'.

No arcane procedures or discipline.

Please note: these are not 'tests' of vicarious substitution - as if Jesus had to pay off a debt of sins because the Father needed blood and at least one person to pay dearly for it.

God redeems us with educational risk.

It is true that sending a lamb among wolves means its end is sealed. But it is also the only way to convince men - still in a pre-human condition - that competition is not the life of people, but rather of ferocious beasts.

The lamb is the meek being that makes even wolves reflect: only by completely appropriating it do the beasts realise that they are such.

Thus we can begin to say, 'I' as human beings rather than beasts. 

Of course, only people who are reconciled with their own circumstances do good. But the authentic and full best is critical and global; beyond our reach.

It is not a brilliant or personal achievement. We are not omnipotent.

 

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

This too takes the form of an action, because the soul-bride reads the signs of the times, interprets the surrounding reality and her own inclinations... and, grasping the specific weight of the Future, anticipates and actualises it.

Thus avoiding wasting life in support of dead branches.

But the final stage (I would say the peak), perhaps even more 'perfect' than this Faith-Trigger, is that of Faith-Wonder.

Revelation-Astonishment: it configures the specific belief of the Incarnation, because it recognises the Treasures that lie hidden behind our dark sides.

These Pearls will come into play during the course of existence [they will activate what they must when necessary] and it will be a wonder to discover them.

The pierced cocoon will make its Butterfly, which is not 'confirmation', or a construction homologated to prototypes, but rather enchantment. Unveiling.

Magic and a new Covenant of sunsets and sunrises.

 

To compare the varied work of Faith in us, and its multifaceted richness - and to emphasise (perhaps in a gestural and crude, but effectively paradoxical way) its specificity, I would cite James Ensor's painting 'The Entry of Christ into Brussels in 1888' as a counterpoint.

The author emphasises the depersonalising indifference of widespread religious life, where everything goes into the pot of indistinct devotion.

In the folklore of the colourful crowd, pious faces and caricatured grins are confused. A contrasting effect in which we perhaps recognise ourselves: pagan people, with many 'husbands' [i.e. idols].

As if to say: in the common and most customary Western religious sense, whether or not we desire Jesus to come into our lives - whether we follow or betray the crucified Lord - does not make much difference.

 

Christ sits on the Source, not on the well. Rather, he overlaps it.

 

 

What I did not know was there: Faith, the naked eye, guarantee

(Jn 4:43-54)

 

    Starting in the fourth week, the Lenten liturgy takes a decisive step towards Jerusalem, which is already taking shape in the light of Easter.

The evangelist wants to introduce us to a more intimate familiarity with the mystery of the person and story of the Son of God; a communion on the level of being that touches other areas.

He takes up the rhythm of the catechumen's inner journey (v. 47) to introduce us to his Vision, which regenerates our flesh and puts us back into the Exodus (v. 50), which unleashes a whole dynamism around us (v. 51).

On the Way, every creature is restored to itself and to the radical goodness of the original plan - rediscovered first within, then outside itself.

To have faith is to set out and allow oneself to be traumatised. 'For Jesus himself had testified that a prophet has no honour in his own country' (v. 44). Why?

By the term 'country', the synoptics imply Nazareth.

The fourth Gospel, on the other hand, alludes to a more theological dimension: that of the Word, which transcends local privileges, targeting the ideology of the religious centre as well as the national institution.

After showing in the episode of the Samaritan woman (vv. 1-42) the meaning of Christ as the new Temple for both Jews and 'heretics', John illustrates its meaning for pagans.

It is as if the dimension of the Resurrection ('after two days': v. 43) moved the House of God to the whole world.

Observers of Judaism were forbidden to pass through Samaria and stay with the Samaritans (cf. Jn 4:9), who were considered mixed-race (theologically polygamous: Jn 4:17-18).

Jesus does not limit himself to his own lineage, nor even to his own religion.

In Galilee, he welcomes a super-pagan who begs for help because he realises that the world he comes from is incapable of generating life (vv. 46-47, 49, 53).

 

Often our piety prevents friendship between different cultures and neutralises the power of intimate self-healing that everyone - of any ethnicity or creed - carries within themselves.

The banal auspices of cultural baggage block freedom of thought from what is not yet foreseeable, fixing stereotypes.

Those steeped in idols no longer see anything; they do not even encounter themselves and their loved ones.

And they do not experience unknown forces. At most, they believe in the pagan god protector, who performs miracles at random.

Those who judge with the naked eye... suppose they see the Lord healing through extraordinary gestures (v. 48: 'unless you see signs and wonders, you will not believe').

They miss the life-giving power of the Word, which touches without being seen, but makes Jesus present in his work and in his incisive, effective entirety.

Christ is interested in making people understand how Faith "works" in its pure quality: what dynamics it activates - not the spectacle of religion, which is entirely external and rhymes with impression, escape, sensation, devotion.

These superficial expressions close the crowd in intimism, or arouse interest in oddities that startle the senses, arousing a moment of enthusiasm, but not the centre of each person.

 

The newness of Christ is not transmitted by contact, but by deeply accepting his unexpected Word-event. It is not subject to a principle of locality or other religious guarantee.

The external gaze is convinced by miracles, but does not grasp the profound meaning of the Sign that speaks to us of the Person of the Lord - the true spectacle. Everything is still to be experienced.

Commenting on the Tao Tê Ching (xii), Master Wang Pi states: 'Those who are for the eye become slaves to creatures. For this reason, the saint is not for the eye'.

Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'The lover of colours harms the essence and loses enlightenment (...) The disordered gaze causes the essence to overflow to the outside'.

The curious wait to see and verify. Thus they die of relative hopes, without roots in themselves.

Only in Faith can we discover what is not yet visible to the naked eye, nor did we know it was there.

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

How does adherence to the Word of Christ help to overcome the trivial desire for clamour or escape?

Returning to 'your home', did you discover what you did not know was there? Did someone announce the Good News to you?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

This third Sunday of Lent is characterized by the Jesus’ famous conversation with the Samaritan woman, recounted by the Evangelist John. The woman went every day to draw water from an ancient well that dated back to the Patriarch Jacob and on that day she found Jesus sitting beside the well, “wearied from his journey” (Jn 4:6). St Augustine comments: “Not for nothing was Jesus tried…. The strength of Christ created you, the weakness of Christ recreated you…. With his strength he created us, with his weakness he came to seek us out” (In Ioh. Ev., 15, 2).

Jesus’ weariness, a sign of his true humanity, can be seen as a prelude to the Passion with which he brought to fulfilment the work of our redemption. In the encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, the topic of Christ’s “thirst” stands out in particular. It culminated in his cry on the Cross “I thirst” (Jn 19:28). This thirst, like his weariness, had a physical basis. Yet Jesus, as St Augustine says further, “thirsted for the faith of that woman” (In Ioh. Ev. 15,11), as he thirsted for the faith of us all.

God the Father sent him to quench our thirst for eternal life, giving us his love, but to give us this gift Jesus asks for our faith. The omnipotence of Love always respects human freedom; it knocks at the door of man’s heart and waits patiently for his answer. 

In the encounter with the Samaritan woman the symbol of water stands out in the foreground, alluding clearly to the sacrament of Baptism, the source of new life for faith in God’s Grace. This Gospel, in fact — as I recalled in my Catechesis on Ash Wednesday — is part of the ancient journey of the catechumen’s preparation for Christian Initiation, which took place at the great Easter Vigil. “Whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him”, Jesus said, “will never thirst; the water that I shall give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life” (Jn 4:14). 

This water represents the Holy Spirit, the “gift” par excellence that Jesus came to bring on the part of God the Father. Whoever is reborn by water and by the Holy Spirit, that is, in Baptism, enters into a real relationship with God, a filial relationship, and can worship him “in spirit and in truth” (Jn 4:23, 24), as Jesus went on to reveal to the Samaritan woman. Thanks to the meeting with Jesus Christ and to the gift of the Holy Spirit, the human being’s faith attains fulfilment, as a response to the fullness of God’s revelation. 

Each one of us can identify himself with the Samaritan woman: Jesus is waiting for us, especially in this Season of Lent, to speak to our hearts, to my heart. Let us pause a moment in silence, in our room or in a church or in a separate place. Let us listen to his voice which tells us “If you knew the gift of God…”. May the Virgin Mary help us not to miss this appointment, on which our true happiness depends.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 27 March 2011]