23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time  (year A)  [6 September 2026]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (33:7–9)

The prophet Ezekiel, a priest in Jerusalem in the 6th century BC, was exiled to Babylon in 597 BC during the first exile ordered by Nebuchadnezzar. He lived by the River Chebar, in the village of Tel Aviv, where he learnt the tragic news of the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple in 587 BC. Despite these catastrophes, Ezekiel did not lose hope. During the approximately twenty years of his ministry whilst in exile, he dedicated his life to supporting the people and keeping alive the hope of return. The name of the modern city of Tel Aviv refers precisely to the village where he lived, as a tribute to the prophet who contributed to the spiritual survival of Israel. His mission unfolded on two fronts: helping the exiles to settle and survive; and keeping alive the hope of returning to the Promised Land. God entrusted him with the task of being a watchman for Israel (Ezekiel 3:17). Like a watchman who warns the city of danger, Ezekiel was to convey God’s warnings and call the people to repentance. Had he remained silent, he would have been responsible for their downfall. However, the people often listened without putting God’s Word into practice. People appreciated the beauty of his preaching, but did not change their ways (Ezekiel 33:31–32). For this reason, the prophet experienced discouragement, feeling as though he were ‘preaching in the wilderness’. Despite this, he remained faithful to his mission. Ezekiel was a watchman in two senses: attentive to the Word of God and vigilant in awaiting the dawn of salvation. With powerful imagery and great courage, he proclaimed the hope of rebirth, declaring God’s promise: ‘I will bring you out of your graves, O my people, and bring you back to the land of Israel’ (Ezekiel 37:12). Even when it seemed that all was lost, following the fall of Jerusalem, Ezekiel continued to proclaim that restoration was possible if the people returned to God. For God does not desire the death of the sinner, but his conversion: ‘Why should you die, O house of Israel? Turn back, and you will live’ (Ezek 33:11). This text ties in with today’s Gospel reading, in which Jesus entrusts the disciples with a similar mission: to watch over one another with brotherly love, correcting those who err because, as Leviticus (19:17–18) also teaches, correcting with charity is a genuine act of love, for it helps one’s brother to avoid evil and to find the path of life once more. Just as a watchman keeps watch over the city, so the prophet and every disciple must watch over the welfare of others.

Responsorial Psalm (94/95) 

The final verse of Psalm 95/94 recalls the episode of Massah and Meribah (Ex 17:1–7), when the people of Israel, in the wilderness, ran out of water and doubted God. After accusing Moses, thinking that God wanted to let them die of thirst, the Lord caused abundant water to gush forth from the rock. Since then, Massah and Meribah have symbolised a lack of trust in God. The Psalm urges: ‘Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts’. This is the life of faith, and the real question is: ‘Can we trust God, who is present in our lives?’ Faith is trust, and to believe means to trust. The Hebrew word for faith means to lean on God, and ‘Amen’ derives from the same root, meaning ‘firm’ or ‘stable’: it is like saying, ‘I entrust myself completely to God.’ This is why the prophet Isaiah declares: ‘Unless you believe, you will not stand firm’ (Isaiah 7:9). To listen is to trust. The invitation in the Psalm: ‘Will you listen to his Word today?’, asks not merely to hear, but to receive it with trust. Those who trust truly listen. This is why the Shema Israel prayer (Deut 6:4) begins with: ‘Hear, O Israel’, and to love God with all one’s heart means to entrust oneself entirely to Him. Even the verb ‘to obey’ derives from the idea of listening: biblical obedience is not blind submission, but trusting listening to the Word. Trust arises from experience. Israel bases its faith on the concrete experience of deliverance from Egypt. If God has delivered his people from slavery, he cannot abandon them in the wilderness. This is why the Psalm proclaims: ‘Let us acclaim the Rock of our salvation.’ The rock is not merely a poetic image: it recalls the rock from which God brought forth water at Massah and Meribah. God is a secure rock upon which to rely, and this choice must be renewed every day. The word ‘today’ is fundamental: every day is a new beginning; every day we can return to listening to God and trusting in Him. It is the same message proclaimed by Ezekiel to the discouraged exiles: do not lose hope and continue to trust in the Lord. Faith is not an individual matter, but belongs to a people walking together towards God, and this is why the Psalm is always in the plural: ‘We are the people whom God leads’. This communal dimension is a fundamental characteristic of the Bible and also represents a challenge for the Church today. The text concludes by reminding us that the very question of trust runs through the entire Bible: when Saint Paul calls on us to be reconciled with God, he asks us to stop doubting His intentions; when Jesus calls on us to be converted and to believe in the Gospel, He asks us to believe in the Good News – that is, that God loves us and wants what is best for us. Even the story of Adam and Eve can be read in this light: the fundamental test is not outward obedience, but the trust that God always desires our freedom, our life and our happiness. Faith consists in believing that, even in trials, limitations and defeats, God can bring forth new life, freedom and resurrection.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (13:8–10)

If we are to find a central theme in this text, it is ‘dual loyalty: as a good citizen and as a disciple’. In other words, how to live as Christians in a non-Christian world. To understand this, we must place the text in its context. From chapter 12 of the Letter to the Romans, Paul offers advice to Christians on how to live as Christians in a world that is not our own. To live as a Christian is to make one’s life a ‘holy sacrifice’ (Paul’s text from last Sunday, in which he adds: ‘Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may discern what is the will of God’ (Rom 12:2)). Today we are in Chapter 13, and Paul delves into the practicalities of social life: our relationship with the authorities. When one reads the whole chapter, one is struck by the specific details he gives regarding the obligations of citizens: respect for the courts, the payment of taxes and duties, and submission to all authorities. In short: a good Christian must be a good citizen: ‘Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities’ (Romans 13:1). Let us be frank: this instruction must have surprised more than a few, because the Jews and the Romans held two very different conceptions of power. In the Jewish world of the Old Testament, such words would not have surprised anyone, because political power lay in the hands of the religious authorities; civil law was not distinguished from the Law of God. From this perspective, Jesus had been able to say to the crowd and his disciples: ‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. Do and observe whatever they tell you’ (Mt 23:1–2). But the same could not be said of the Roman world; the authorities in question were the Roman emperors and the entire hierarchy of their governors, magistrates and soldiers, for whom God’s will was obviously the very last thing on their minds! And if Paul writes about not conforming to this world, it is because the ideal of Roman society was often diametrically opposed to the Christian ideal. So, is it possible to obey an authority steeped in paganism? This question lies at the heart of our text. Paul responds in two points:

First point: do not use faith as an excuse to shirk civil responsibilities, and he reasons as follows:  ‘There is no authority except that which God has established; the authorities that exist have been established by God’ (Romans 13:1), and here we hear an echo of Jesus’ words to Pilate: ‘You would have no power over me at all unless it had been given to you from above’ (John 19:11). Another argument: since in all countries the law is normally at the service of justice and the defence of the weak, Paul says: ‘The authorities are God’s servants for your good… for they are God’s agents of retribution, administering punishment to those who do wrong’ (Rom 13:4). The Jews, like the early Christians – the Romans made no distinction between them – were exempt from Roman laws that offended their conscience: for example, burning incense before the emperor’s statue, or performing military service. Therefore, says Saint Paul, obey the Roman laws, for one is not exempt from laws that are contrary to religion.

Second point: simply being in compliance is not enough; what is needed is the ‘debt of love’. One is not a good Jew or a good Christian merely by being in compliance with civil authority, for this does not take charity to its fullest extent. This is what the first sentence of today’s reading says: ‘Owe no one anything, except to love one another’ (Rom 13:8). ‘Owe no one anything’ – that is to say, it is not enough simply to be in good standing with everyone; one must go further. The ultimate meaning of the Torah is to love one’s brothers and sisters; in other words, it is not enough merely to refrain from murder, theft or adultery, because, as St Paul observes, all this is summed up in this: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ (Rom 13:9), and this means being in accordance with the Law of Moses. Paul adds that a profound conversion is required, which he describes in these words: “Be transformed by the renewal of your mind, so that you may discern the will of God—what is good, pleasing and perfect” (Romans 12:2). The true novelty is revealed when Christ asks the rich young man, an observer of the Torah, to give up everything and follow him: ‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you possess, give it to the poor… then come and follow me’ (Mt 19:21). A choice that can take one a long way!

From the Gospel according to Matthew (18:15–20)

Jesus teaches that fraternal correction is about saving the person, not condemning them. In the second reading, Saint Paul reminds us not to be in debt to anyone, except for the debt of mutual love, since love is the perfect fulfilment of the Law (Rom 13:8, 10). The whole of chapter 18 of the Gospel of Matthew deals, from various angles, with the fulfilment of this love in relationships within the Christian community. In particular, it addresses two themes: the priority given to the little ones and the weak, and mutual forgiveness. To introduce these recommendations, Jesus tells the parable of the lost sheep – an image well known to his listeners – and compares the leaders of the community to shepherds appointed by the supreme Shepherd, who is God; the heavenly Father does not want any of these little ones to be lost (Mt 18:14). This concerns the duty of mutual watchfulness, following the model already set out by Ezekiel: ‘Woe to the shepherds of Israel…’ (Ezek 34:2). Jesus entrusts the disciples with the task of watching over one another, ensuring that their brothers and sisters do not go astray; and this duty falls first and foremost to those in charge of the community—the shepherds. But the duty of mutual care also exists within the flock; not only do the shepherds bear responsibility for the well-being of the flock, but the sheep too are responsible for one another, as Ezekiel further writes: ‘Thus says the Lord God: I myself will judge between the fat sheep and the lean… (Ezek 34:20–22). Ezekiel thus proclaimed that God himself would take charge of his flock once more through his Messiah: ‘I will raise up for them a single shepherd, who will tend them—my servant David. He will tend them; he will be their shepherd’ (Ezek 34:23). Jesus is the Good Shepherd who knows his sheep and by whom the sheep are known (cf. Jn 10), and he gives guidance for the life of the flock, particularly regarding fraternal support and help so that no one ‘is lost’. To bring back those who have gone astray requires a demanding love, for if you truly love someone, you are willing to do anything to rescue them if they are in danger. God is Love, and we are called to be like him, which is an incredibly demanding task. And if any Christian goes astray, Jesus shows the way forward: first, seek dialogue personally and do everything possible to help them rejoin the flock; and if, in the end, you are unable to do so, regard them as a pagan or a tax collector – which does not imply permanent exclusion. How, then, are we to interpret the phrase: ‘If they will not even listen to the community, let them be to you as a pagan and a tax collector’? In the light of all we know about Jesus and his constant welcome of tax collectors and sinners, this cannot be a definitive rejection but rather a respect for each person’s freedom… whilst waiting for Zacchaeus or the tax collector Matthew to be converted. What emerges from the approach recommended by Christ is the absolute necessity of respect for everyone, and in particular for those who call themselves sinners; and every step taken to restore communion must be marked by delicate discretion. These are the basic rules of life in the Church, and respecting them is the seed of eternal life: “Truly I tell you, whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven” (Mt 18:18). Let us consider the final sentence: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them” (Mt 18:20). In the sayings of the Jewish Fathers (the Pirkei Avot), we read: “When two sit together and engage in the words of the Torah, the Shekinah—that is, the presence of God—is amongst them” (Avot 3:2).

+Giovanni D’Ercole

I read in the newspaper that some peacocks have invaded a small town.

The news was published some time ago – except that a few days ago the newspaper reported that a man had run some of them over in his car. 

And so here is a starting point for reflection.

The peacock is one of the most fascinating animals; it has long been a symbol of beauty. 

It generally represents self-indulgence. And everything centres on outward appearance.

The female peacock is less showy than the male; she is smaller, and unlike the male, when she displays her tail in a fan-shaped spread, she does not have the colourful feathers. 

There is also the well-known Aesop’s fable in which a crow adorns itself with a peacock’s feathers to look beautiful.

In Greek mythology, the peacock was the symbol of the goddess Juno: the plumage of its tail is said to derive from the giant Argus Panoptes, who had a hundred eyes.

Upon his death, the goddess placed his eyes on the peacock’s tail.

According to more ancient traditions, the peacock, with its eyes and the splendid colours of its tail, evokes the starry sky, and was often associated with the idea of immortality.

Peacock-like behaviour also exists amongst human beings.

Men, too, spread their ‘tail’.

And here, too, it is all a question of degree.

It is one thing to show one’s ‘tail’ now and then or when asked; it is quite another to go through life with one’s tail constantly spread, perpetually on display.

I think it must also be tiring – first of all for oneself, and then for others as well.

Just as the peacock spreads its tail to be noticed and to attract female peacocks, the ‘peacock-like’ individual flaunts all their ‘talents’ to attract admiration and win public approval.

Here too, I should clarify: the normal desire to show one’s best side is not the same as the psychopathological condition characterised by a lack of empathy and an incessant, destructive sense of grandeur. 

Such attitudes do not concern only individuals: often, such behaviours also affect people when they become parents.

They prioritise their own image above all else, even before the child’s needs and emotional requirements, seeking the admiration of their children and craving the approval of those around them.

With parents like this, children do not thrive; they must constantly seek the affection of adults, which should instead be given freely. 

These parents want to appear perfect and expect their children to mirror them: their children, too, must be better than others, through academic success, physical fitness or stylish clothing. 

But this façade, this beautiful ‘peacock’s tail’, conceals some serious issues.

Such parents rarely take responsibility for their own behaviour. When they do something inappropriate, they almost never apologise.

They put on an air of superiority to conceal their own weaknesses.

We sometimes behave inappropriately towards our children – but we must not always give the impression that we have acted correctly.

The child’s reaction may well be justified.

If we insist on always being right, we risk confusing our children about how to perceive reality.

The ‘peacock’ parent then perceives every request from their child for personal growth and autonomy as an offence.

And in adulthood, establishing healthy boundaries or emotional distance becomes a difficult struggle.

Often, this type of parent also demands their children’s constant attention, and every relationship their children form becomes a source of suspicion or jealousy.

These parents become manipulative and often undermine the foundations of independence and autonomy.

Growing up with such individuals or parents can give rise to insecure behaviour, with a likelihood of developing anxious, doubtful attitudes, as the child unconsciously feels compelled to satisfy the demands of others.

I have touched upon the subject of ‘peacock parents’ because, having worked in the field of child development, I have frequently observed such attitudes more prominently in parental figures and only secondarily in children.

I would like to mention or recall a concept from Jung: the child’s unconscious stems from the parental unconscious.

I have also noticed that showing off was more common amongst professional parents – people with a high level of education.

In these cases, due to their behaviour, resolving the situation became complicated.

Very often, these parents decided for themselves when to end psychotherapy, either because they grew tired of accompanying their child to sessions, or because they felt personally implicated – and so they distanced themselves from the process.

Looking back at the last short article – entitled «the histrionic» [«l’istrione»] – it occurs to me that it rhymes with «peacock» [«pavone»].

As always, these reflections are drawn from my specialist training and from my practical experience in my professional work – primarily in the field of child and adolescent psychology. 

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi – psychologist – psychotherapist

Different concerns, and Humanizing Action

(Lk 6:6-11)

Providing good and uplifting the real person - as he or she is, in his or her uniqueness - is the only absolute value; the criterion of the entire Gospel.

Even the Torah in its core and sense wanted to be an important means of human, personal, religious pedagogy - not the end.

The norms accompany us willingly, when they facilitate the way to dialogue with the Lord in us and in our brothers and sisters. But the "letter" is cold and unfounded in itself.

Once the Meeting has taken place, priority must be given to God’s Project, solicitous to realize and make us flourish; not to procedures.

In fact, the prescriptions put everyone and always on alert towards the ‘different need’.

For this reason, solidarity and fraternity are placed above any devotional and identity homage, or doctrinal necessity, as well as external observance of worship (if lived by automatons).

The same norms must be understood so that they lead to life with and in Christ - for the realization and fullness of being.

Otherwise the scrupulous virtue of religion turns into malicious action and vice of faith - which loses the totality of the person [v.9 Greek text].

In this way, on synagogue day, there is no need to celebrate a restoration that stamps the clock.

Rather, we gather in assembly to better restore women and men to their dignity as sublime beings, to be promoted in an unlimited way.

The Sabbath of the Messiah is not a day of custom’s partiality: it is a time of recovered well-being - of Liberation and Creation, of promotion of the vital energies, according to the original and full Plan of the Father.

In fact, in the place of the habitual rite, where the traditional compressed mentality prevails, Jesus does not go to pray, but to teach and cure.

Not even the paralyzed person had asked for healing - so much it seemed normal to him to be there in that way and not to receive attention or any stimulus; not even the good.

Nevertheless, Love is the core and essence of the Law: even in the precept day, help was allowed by same prescriptions, in case of extreme need or repercussion on others.

Jesus is saying that unlocking the person who cannot do anything good [«right hand, arid»: v.6] is a matter of life or death, even for the whole community [heal or «annihilate»: v.9].

Observing the Lord’s day means, even for us: strengthening the expressive possibilities of humanity and reintegrating it into a ‘new order’.

In order to fulfil the redemptive 'precept', deviant attitudes must first also be assumed, and saved - like preparatory energies for new arrangements.

We cannot afford further neglect.

The crisis that affects everyone leaks the difference between... unconscious content, and truth; fossilizations and hidden energies; religiosity and Faith - character of life in Christ and in the Spirit.

In its sides of limitation and Completeness, legalism or Liberation, stasis and Rebirth, return to "as always" or Regeneration, formalism and Joy [so on], today discernment becomes more acute.

[Monday 23rd wk. in O.T.  September 7, 2026]

Different solicitations: the Humanising Action, and the dry action of the misanthropes

(Lk 6:6-11)

Commenting on the Tao Tê Ching (XLVII), Master Ho-shang Kung writes: "The saint knows the great by basing himself on the small, the external by examining the internal".

And he reiterates: 'Without ascending into the heavens or descending into the abyss, the saint knows Heaven and Earth: he knows them with the heart.

Procuring the good and lifting up the real person - as he is, in his uniqueness - is the only non-negotiable value; the criterion of the entire Gospel.

Even the Torah in its core and meaning was meant to be an important means of human, personal, religious pedagogy - not the end.

Norms gladly accompany us, when they facilitate the way to dialogue with the Lord, encountering Him in us and in our brothers and sisters.

But the 'letter' is cold and unmotivated.

Once the encounter has taken place, precedence must be given to God's Project, which is solicitous to fulfil us and allow us to flourish; not to procedures.

In fact, prescriptions put everyone and always on the alert for "different needs".

Hence, solidarity and fraternity are placed above any devout and identity-based obsequies, or doctrinal necessities, as well as outward observance of worship [if lived by automatons].

The same standards must be understood so that they lead to life with and in Christ - to fulfilment and fullness of being.

Otherwise the scrupulous virtue of religion turns into malign action and vice of faith - which loses the totality of the person [v.9 Greek text].

In this way, on the day of the synagogue, one does not celebrate a card-stamping restoration.

Rather, one gathers in assembly to better restore man to his dignity as a sublime being, to be promoted in an unlimited way.

The Sabbath of the Messiah is not the day of customary partialities: gestures and words express the Face of the Father, his solicitude.

It is a time of both Liberation and Creation, of promoting vital energies, according to the original and full Plan.

But in the place of habitual ritual, where the traditional [i.e. à la page] compassionate mentality prevails, Jesus does not go to pray, but to teach and heal.

Not even the paralysed man had asked for healing - so much so that it seemed normal for him to stand there like that and receive no attention, no encouragement; not even good.

Nevertheless, Love is the core and essence of the Law: even on the day of precept, help was still permitted (by the same prescriptions) in case of extreme need or repercussion on others.

The Lord is saying to [his intimate] church leaders:

Unlocking the person who fails to do any good ["barren right hand": v.6] is a matter of life and death, even for the whole community [heal or "annihilate": v.9].

When the wigwams of indifferent and dry religion, and the first-raters of distorted devotion, are provoked, the pious mask disappears.

They become violent even in the face of the good that God works on those who are misguided - and devoted to the worst without even realising it.

The hand [action] to be healed remains first and foremost that of the one-sided mummies to whom the strong teaching of the episode is addressed.

Observing the day of the Lord means, for us too: enhancing man's expressive possibilities and reintegrating him into a 'new order'.

This by clearing the environment prone to sectarianism [or ideologism] of old and new owls who intend to save appearances in order to maintain power, fake doctrinal prestige, and subservience of consciences.

But in order to fulfil the redemptive 'precept', deviant attitudes must also be assumed first, and saved - like preparatory energies for new arrangements.

Master Ho-shang again: 'When those at the top love the Way, those at the bottom love virtue; when those at the top love war, those at the bottom love strength'.

The plagiarism agencies of some particular 'churches' that want souls locked into relationships of domination would gladly plan to keep the sick in their dependent state.

For some perverse mechanisms of pastoral care and mass catechesis, the fearful and insecure must remain anonymous; even in the time of the synodal journey.

The voiceless are always useful, so that the well-introduced can continue to float about the world - with their unchanged foibles or theories.

For pious, moralistic, or partisan interests [this one private and glamorous, i.e. full of legalistic pitfalls] would gladly leave them uncertain and unaware, or worse - even if Jesus himself showed up to set them free.

We can no longer afford this.

We can no longer condone neglect: the current jolt of the global crisis is accelerating the fall of masks, of swampy or histrionic attitudes; and of symbolic practices that are an end in themselves.

The emergence that affects everyone makes it easier to understand the difference between unconscious contents and truths, sedentary fossilisations and hidden energies; religiosity and Faith - the discriminator of life in Christ and the Spirit.

In its sides of limitation and Wholeness, legalism and Liberation, stasis and Rebirth, return to as always or Regeneration, formalism and Gladness, discernment becomes more acute today.

Having already judged it useless to take advantage of the official religious institution to introduce into it the novelty of the Kingdom, [e.g. as far back as chapter 3 of Mk, first of the Gospels] a new community project is advocated.

The Master wants to guide people from all walks of life to feel and live deeply their own and others' human dimension, marked by the paradoxically fruitful experience of fallibility.

Only when they internalise its meaning and live in this way will authorities and believers truly experience compassion for the limitations of the flesh - a characteristic understanding of being 'human'.

In this work, the Lord always starts with the masses abandoned by their shepherds.

The authentic incipit comes from people who are insignificant but disengaged from the authorities of the religious-political fabric, and from the official lines of dynastic succession.

To internalise and live the message:

When have you noticed virtues of religion converted into vices of faith?

What do you mean by Salvation secured by the Kingdom of God?

Theology and symbolism of the Hand:

"Let us therefore reflect again on the signs in which the Sacrament has been given to us. At the centre is the very ancient gesture of the laying on of hands, by which He took possession of me saying: "You belong to me". But with this He also said: 'You are under the protection of my hands. You are under the protection of my heart. You are kept in the hollow of my hands and just so you stand in the vastness of my love. Stay in the space of my hands and give me yours'.

Let us remember then that our hands have been anointed with oil, which is the sign of the Holy Spirit and his power. Why the hands? Man's hand is the instrument of his action, it is the symbol of his ability to face the world, in fact to "take it in hand". The Lord has laid his hands on us and now wants our hands to become his hands in the world. He wants them no longer to be instruments to take things, men, the world for us, to reduce it to our possession, but instead to transmit his divine touch, placing themselves at the service of his love. He wants them to be instruments of service and thus an expression of the mission of the whole person who stands as a guarantor of Him and brings Him to men. If man's hands symbolically represent his faculties and, generally, technique as the power to dispose of the world, then the anointed hands must be a sign of his capacity to give, of his creativity in shaping the world with love - and for this, of course, we need the Holy Spirit. In the Old Testament, anointing is a sign of the assumption of service: the king, the prophet, the priest does and gives more than he gives himself. In a way, he is dispossessed of himself in service, in which he makes himself available to one greater than himself. If Jesus presents himself today in the Gospel as the Anointed One of God, the Christ, then this means precisely that he acts on the mission of the Father and in unity with the Holy Spirit and that, in this way, he gives the world a new kingship, a new priesthood, a new way of being a prophet, who does not seek himself, but lives for him in whose sight the world was created. Let us place our hands today once again at his disposal and pray to him to take us by the hand again and to guide us".

[Pope Benedict, Chrism homily 13 April 2006]

Let us reflect once again on the signs in which the Sacrament has been given to us. At the centre is the very ancient rite of the imposition of hands, with which he took possession of me, saying to me:  "You belong to me".

However, in saying this he also said:  "You are under the protection of my hands. You are under the protection of my heart. You are kept safely in the palm of my hands, and this is precisely how you find yourself in the immensity of my love. Stay in my hands, and give me yours".

Then let us remember that our hands were anointed with oil, which is the sign of the Holy Spirit and his power. Why one's hands? The human hand is the instrument of human action, it is the symbol of the human capacity to face the world, precisely to "take it in hand".

The Lord has laid his hands upon us and he now wants our hands so that they may become his own in the world. He no longer wants them to be instruments for taking things, people or the world for ourselves, to reduce them to being our possession, but instead, by putting ourselves at the service of his love, they can pass on his divine touch.

He wants our hands to be instruments of service, hence, an expression of the mission of the whole person who vouches for him and brings him to men and women. If human hands symbolically represent human faculties and, in general, skill as power to dispose of the world, then anointed hands must be a sign of the human capacity for giving, for creativity in shaping the world with love. It is for this reason, of course, that we are in need of the Holy Spirit.

In the Old Testament, anointing is the sign of being taken into service:  the king, the prophet, the priest, each does and gives more than what derives from himself alone. In a certain way, he is emptied of himself, so as to serve by making himself available to One who is greater than he.

If, in today's Gospel, Jesus presents himself as God's Anointed One, the Christ, then this itself means that he is acting for the Father's mission and in unity with the Holy Spirit. He is thereby giving the world a new kingship, a new priesthood, a new way of being a prophet who does not seek himself but lives for the One with a view to whom the world was created.

Today, let us once again put our hands at his disposal and pray to him to take us by the hand, again and again, and lead us.

[Pope Benedict, Chrism homily 13 April 2006]

2. The Gospel of the kingdom links Christ with the Sacred Scriptures that, using a royal image, celebrate God's lordship over the cosmos and history. Thus we read in the Psalter:  "Say among the nations, "The Lord reigns! Yea, the world is established, it shall never be moved; he will judge the peoples'" (Ps 96: 10). The kingdom is thus God's effective but mysterious action in the universe and in the tangle of human events. He overcomes the resistance of evil with patience, not with arrogance and outcry.

For this reason Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a mustard seed, the smallest of all seeds, but destined to become a leafy tree (cf. Mt 13: 31-32), or to the seed a man scatters on the ground:  "he sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows, he knows not how" (Mk 4: 27). The kingdom is grace, God's love for the world, the source of our serenity and trust:  "Fear not, little flock", Jesus says, "for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom" (Lk 12: 32). Fears, worries and nightmares fade away, because in the person of Christ the kingdom of God is in our midst (cf. Lk 17: 21).

3. But man is not a passive witness to God's entrance into history. Jesus asks us "to seek" actively "the kingdom of God and his righteousness" and to make this search our primary concern (Mt 6& ;33). To those who "supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately" (Lk 19: 11), he prescribed an active attitude instead of passive waiting, telling them the parable of the 10 pounds to be used productively (cf. Lk 19: 12-27). For his part, the Apostle Paul states that "the kingdom of God does not mean food and drink but righteousness" (Rom 14: 17) above all, and urges the faithul to put their members at the service of righteousness for sanctification (cf. Rom 6: 13, 19).

The human person is thus called to work with his hands, mind and heart for the coming of God's kingdom into the world. This is especially true of those who are called to the apostolate and are, as St Paul says, "fellow workers for the kingdom of God" (Col 4: 11), but it is also true of every human person.

[John Paul II, General Audience 6 December 2000]

Winning with good

1. At the beginning of the New Year, I once again address the leaders of nations and all men and women of good will, who recognize the need to build peace in the world. For the theme of this 2005 World Day of Peace I have chosen Saint Paul's words in the Letter to the Romans: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (12:21). Evil is never defeated by evil; once that road is taken, rather than defeating evil, one will instead be defeated by evil.

The great Apostle brings out a fundamental truth: peace is the outcome of a long and demanding battle which is only won when evil is defeated by good. If we consider the tragic scenario of violent fratricidal conflicts in different parts of the world, and the untold sufferings and injustices to which they have given rise, the only truly constructive choice is, as Saint Paul proposes, to flee what is evil and hold fast to what is good (cf. Rom 12:9).

Peace is a good to be promoted with good: it is a good for individuals, for families, for nations and for all humanity; yet it is one which needs to be maintained and fostered by decisions and actions inspired by good. We can appreciate the profound truth of another saying of Saint Paul: "Repay no one evil for evil" (Rom 12:17). The one way out of the vicious circle of requiting evil for evil is to accept the Apostle's words: "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Rom 12:21).

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 2005 World Day of Peace]

Hope is a virtue' that is 'habitually considered second class. We do not believe so much,' he explained, 'in hope: we talk about faith and charity, but hope is a bit, as a French writer said, the humble virtue, the servant of virtues; and we do not understand it well'.

Optimism, he explained, is a human attitude that depends on many things; but hope is something else: 'It is a gift, it is a gift of the Holy Spirit, and that is why Paul said that it never disappoints'. And it also has a name. And 'this name is Jesus': you cannot say you hope in life if you do not hope in Jesus. "It would not be hope," he specified, "but it would be good humour, optimism, as in the case of those people who are sunny, positive, who always see the full half of the glass and not the empty half".

A confirmation of this concept, the Pope indicated it in the passage from Luke's Gospel (6:6-11), in the reference to the theme of freedom. Luke's account places before our eyes a double slavery: that of the man "with the paralysed hand, a slave to his disease", and that "of the Pharisees, the scribes, slaves to their rigid, legalistic attitudes". Jesus "liberates both: he makes the rigid ones see that that is not the way to freedom; and the man with the paralysed hand frees him from his disease". What does he want to show? That 'freedom and hope go together: where there is no hope, there can be no freedom'.

However, the real lesson to be drawn from today's liturgy is that Jesus 'is not a healer, he is a man who recreates existence. And this - underlined the bishop of Rome - gives us hope, because Jesus came precisely for this great miracle, to recreate everything". So much so that the Church in a beautiful prayer says: 'You, Lord, who were so great, so wonderful in creation, but more wonderful in redemption...'. Therefore, the Pope added, 'the great wonder is the great reformation of Jesus. And this gives us hope: Jesus who recreates everything'. And when "we unite ourselves to Jesus in his passion," the Pope concluded, "with him we remake the world, we make it new.

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 9-10/09/2013]

In the midst of the reconciled: the change of course and destiny in the Kingdom

(Mt 18:15-20)

«The word that the Evangelist uses for "agree" is synphōnēsōsin:  there is reference made to a "symphony" of hearts» [Pope Benedict].

This malleable energy has a mysterious grip on the reality core - which is always stronger than we are; it unfolds the plot and proposes, but here, conversely, it welcomes us.

Or it disturbs us with discomfort... which, however, is already therapy. Because every tear leads to the deep layers of our primordial being, our seed and its own world of relationships.

And then the soul loosens up, becomes less tortuous, follows a direction it was not thinking of; it finds the intoxicating road of deep attunements, abandons the shoddy path.

It prefers the Way that corresponds to person, more than the identifications: all the idols that previously held sway, which - despite appearances - struggled with our essential destination.

And without running away from ourselves, but only from external conventions, 'together' we can move from one-sidedness to wholeness, from banality to fullness; to the reason why we are in the world; to the destiny of being that we are.

Perhaps we could not perceive it before, because the eye was bouncing between the walls of the usual domestications.

And the ephemeral, addictive thought did not destroy the idea [without perception] of ourselves; an idea without listening, which did not vanish.

Fraternal correction tugs at our throats, but it is that bitterness that brings back the essentials; it is that anxiety (if accepted) that truly heals us.

Mt suggests dialogue, which attempts to understand the motives of the other.

Indeed, in the early Judeo-Christian realities, the climate was perhaps overly scrupulous.

Thus detachment from the community was also foreseen, but there remained the knowledge that the sinner was not a divided from God, even 'outside' the particular church: «Where are two or three gathered in my Name» (v.20).

It is the centre of the new pedagogical concept - no longer “religious” and mass, but of living and personal Faith.

The expression «in my Name» indicates that Jesus himself had his hands full with the judges of his time.

All real. Even an exclusion can unite us to Him and bring Him to life concretely.

If the true - not vague - Christ remains the pivot of the fraternity, the Father will grant the return of the excluded brother.

Obviously, this can only happen if the excluded person experiences that community leaders first, seek human confrontation - following the same position as the Master: «in the midst».

Equal distance from everyone, and every now and then a nice rotation of roles, which indeed strengthens the ‘harmony’ and genuine unity.

Those who still show us the living Jesus today are not “above” others. They do not take the lead, nor do they place themselves “at the front” – so that some are close by whilst others remain at a safe distance.

People amongst people, and turnover.

We are called to rediscover the bond between honouring God and a humanising understanding of our sisters and brothers.

Love calls for love, forgiveness spontaneously attracts forgiveness - not out of effort, not out of good manners or duty, but as a channel for to enter the world new preparatory energies, and twists.

Fragrant sign of the Church is the reversal of roles and courses.

[23rd Sunday in O.T. (year A), September 6, 2026]