29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [19 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. Once again, a strong reminder of how to live our faith in every situation in life.

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:8-13)

 The test of faith. On Israel's journey through the desert, the encounter with the Amalekites marks a decisive stage: it is the first battle of the people freed from Egypt, but also the first great test of their faith. The Amalekites, descendants of Esau, represent in biblical tradition the hereditary enemy, a figure of evil who tries to prevent God's people from reaching the promised land. Their sudden attack on the rear of the caravan — the weakest and most tired — reveals the logic of evil: to strike where faith falters, where fatigue and fear open the door to doubt. This episode takes place at Rephidim, the same place as Massah and Meribah, where Israel had already murmured against God because of the lack of water. There the people had experienced the trial of thirst, now they experience the trial of combat: in both cases, the temptation is the same — to think that God is no longer with them. But once again God intervenes, showing that faith is purified through struggle and that trust must remain firm even in danger. While Joshua fights in the plain, Moses climbs the mountain with God's staff in his hand — a sign of his presence and power. The story does not focus on the movements of the troops, but on Moses' gesture: his hands raised towards the sky. It is not a magical gesture: it is prayer that sustains the battle, faith that becomes strength for the whole people. When Moses' arms fall, Israel loses; when they remain raised, Israel wins. Victory therefore depends not only on the strength of weapons, but on communion with God and persevering prayer. Moses grows tired, Aaron and Hur support his hands: this is the image of spiritual brotherhood, of the community that bears the weight of faith together. Thus, prayer is not isolation, but solidarity: those who pray support others, and those who fight draw strength from the prayers of their brothers and sisters. This episode thus becomes a paradigm of spiritual life: Israel, fragile and still on its journey, learns that victory does not come from human strength, but from trust in God. Prayer, represented by Moses' raised hands, does not replace action but accompanies and transfigures it. The person who prays and the person who fights are two faces of the same believer: one fights in the world, the other intercedes before God, and both participate in the one work of salvation. Finally, the praying community becomes the living sign of God's presence at work in his people, and when a believer no longer has the strength to pray, the faith of his brothers and sisters sustains him. The story of Amalek at Rephidim is not just a page in history, but an icon of Christian life: we all live our battles knowing that victory belongs to God and that prayer is the source of all strength and the guarantee of God's presence.

Responsorial Psalm (120/121) 

Psalm 120/121 belongs to the group of 'Psalms of Ascents' (Ps 120-134), composed to accompany the pilgrimages of the people of Israel to Jerusalem, the holy city situated on high, symbol of the place where God dwells among his people. The verb 'to ascend' indicates not only geographical ascent but also and above all a spiritual movement, a conversion of the heart that brings the believer closer to God. Each pilgrimage was a sign of the Covenant and an act of faith for Israel: the people, travelling from all parts of the country, renewed their trust in the Lord. When the psalm speaks in the first person — "I lift up my eyes to the mountains" — it actually gives voice to the collective "we" of all Israel, the people marching towards God. This journey is an image of the entire history of Israel, a long march in which fatigue, waiting, danger and trust are intertwined. The roads that lead to Jerusalem, in addition to being stone roads, are spiritual paths marked by trials and risks. Fatigue, loneliness, external threats — robbers, animals, scorching sun, cold nights — become symbols of the difficulties of faith. In this situation, the words of the psalm are a profession of absolute trust: "My help comes from the Lord: he   made heaven and earth." These words affirm that true help comes not from human powers or mute idols, but from the living God, Creator of the universe, who never sleeps and never abandons his people. He is called "the Guardian of Israel": the one who watches over us constantly, who accompanies us, who is close to us like a shadow that protects us from the sun and the moon. The Hebrew expression "at your right hand" indicates an intimate and faithful presence, like that of an inseparable companion. The people who pray this psalm thus remember the pillar of cloud and fire that guided Israel in the desert, a sign of God who protects day and night, accompanying them on their journey and guarding their lives. Therefore, the psalmist can say: 'The Lord will guard you from all evil; he will guard your life. The Lord will guard you when you go out and when you come in, from now on and forever." The pilgrim who "goes up" to Jerusalem becomes the image of the believer who entrusts himself to God alone, renouncing idols and false securities. This movement is conversion: turning away from what is vain to turn towards the God who saves. In the New Testament, Jesus himself was able to pray this psalm as he "went up to Jerusalem" (Lk 9:51). He walks the path of Israel and of every human being, entrusting his life to the Father. The words "The Lord will guard your life" find their full fulfilment at Easter, when the pilgrim's return becomes resurrection because it is a return to new and definitive life. Thus, Psalm 121 is much more than a prayer for travel: it is the confession of faith of a people on a journey, the proclamation that God is faithful and that his presence accompanies every step of existence. In it, historical memory, theological trust and eschatological hope come together. Israel, the believer and Christ himself share the same certainty: God guards life and every ascent, even the most difficult, leads to communion with Him.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (3:14-4:2)

In this passage from the second letter to Timothy (3:14-4:2), Paul entrusts his disciple with the most precious legacy: fidelity to the Word of God. It is a text written at a difficult time, marked by doctrinal confusion and tensions in the community of Ephesus. Timothy is called to be a 'guardian of the Word' in the midst of a world that risks losing the truth it has received. The first words, 'Remain faithful to what you have learned', make it clear that others have abandoned the apostolic teaching: fidelity then becomes an act of spiritual resistance, a remaining anchored to the source. Paul speaks of 'dwelling' in the Word: faith is not an object to be possessed, but an environment in which to live. Timothy entered into it as a child thanks to his mother Eunice and his grandmother Lois, women of faith who passed on to him a love for the Scriptures. Here we have a reference to the communal and traditional character of faith: no one discovers the Word on their own, but always in the Church. Access to Scripture takes place within the living Tradition, that 'chain' that starts with Christ, passes through the apostles and continues in believers. 'Tradere' in Latin means 'to transmit': what is received is given. In this fidelity, Scripture is a source of living water that regenerates the believer and roots him in the truth. Paul affirms that the Holy Scriptures can instruct for the salvation that is obtained through faith in Christ Jesus (v. 15). The Old Testament is the path that leads to Christ: the entire history of Israel prepares for the fulfilment of the Paschal mystery. 'All Scripture is inspired by God': even before it became dogma, it was the deep conviction of the people of Israel, from which arose respect for the holy books kept in the synagogues. Divine inspiration does not cancel out the human word, but transfigures it, making it an instrument of the Spirit. Scripture, therefore, is not just another book, but a living presence of God that forms, educates, corrects and sanctifies: thanks to it, the man of God will be perfect, equipped for every good work (vv. 16-17). From this source springs the mission, and Paul entrusts Timothy with the decisive command: "Proclaim the Word, insist on it at the opportune and inopportune moment" (v. 4:2) because the proclamation of the Gospel is a necessity, not an optional task. The solemn reference to Christ's judgement of the living and the dead shows the gravity of apostolic responsibility. Proclaiming the Word means making present the Logos, that is, Christ himself, the living Word of the Father. It is He who communicates himself through the voice of the preacher and the life of the witness. But proclamation requires courage and patience: it is necessary to speak when it is convenient and when it is not, to admonish, correct, encourage, always with a spirit of charity and a desire to build up the community. Truth without love hurts; love without truth empties the Word. For Paul, Scripture is not only memory, but the dynamism of the Spirit. It shapes the mind and heart, forms judgement, inspires choices. Those who dwell in it become "men of God," that is, persons shaped by the Word and made capable of serving. Timothy is invited not only to guard the doctrine, but to make it a source of life for himself and for others. Thus, the Word, accepted and lived, becomes a place of encounter with Christ and a source of renewal for the Church. The apostle does not found anything of his own, but transmits what he has received; in the same way, every believer is called to become a link in this living chain, so that the Word may continue to flow in the world like water that quenches, purifies and fertilises. In summary: Scripture is the source of faith, Tradition is the river that transmits it, and proclamation is the fruit that nourishes the life of the Church. To remain in the Word means to remain in Christ; to proclaim it means to let Him act and speak through us. Only in this way does the man of God become fully formed and the community grow in truth and charity.

From the Gospel according to Luke (18:1-8)

The context of this parable is that of the 'end times': Jesus is walking towards Jerusalem, towards His Passion, death and Resurrection. The disciples perceive the tragic and mysterious epilogue, feel the need for greater faith ('Increase our faith') and are anxious to understand the coming of the Kingdom of God. The term 'Son of Man', already present in Daniel (7), indicates the one who comes on the clouds, receives universal and eternal kingship, and also represents, in the original sense, a collective being, the people of the Saints of the Most High. Jesus uses it to refer to himself, reassuring his disciples about God's ultimate victory, even in a context of imminent difficulties. The reference to judgement and the Kingdom emphasises the eschatological perspective: God will do justice to his chosen ones, the Kingdom has already begun, but it will be fully realised at the end. The parable of the persistent widow is at the heart of the message: before an unjust judge, the widow is not discouraged because her cause is just. This example combines two virtues essential to Christians: humility, recognising one's poverty (first beatitude: 'Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God'), and perseverance, confident insistence in prayer and justice. The widow's persistence becomes a paradigm for faith in waiting for the Kingdom: our cause, too, based on God's will, requires tenacity. The text also recalls the connection with the episode in the Old Testament: during the battle against the Amalekites, Moses prays persistently on the hill while Joshua fights on the plain. The victory of the people depends on the presence and intervention of God, supported by Moses' persevering prayer. The parable of the widow has the same function: to remind believers, of all times, that faith is a continuous struggle, a test of endurance in the face of difficulties, opposition and doubts. Jesus' concluding question, "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?", is a universal warning: faith should never be taken for granted; it must be guarded, nurtured and protected. From the early morning of the Resurrection until the final coming of the Son of Man, faith is a struggle of constancy and trust, even when the Kingdom seems far away. The widow teaches us how to face the wait: humble, stubborn, confident, aware of our weakness but certain of God's justice and saving will, which never disappoints those who trust in him totally. Luke seems to be writing to a community threatened by discouragement, as suggested by the final sentence: 'When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?'. This phrase, while appearing pessimistic, is actually a warning to be vigilant: faith must be guarded and nurtured, not taken for granted. The text forms an inclusion: the first sentence teaches what faith is — 'We must always pray without losing heart' — and the final sentence calls for perseverance. Between the two, the example of the stubborn widow, treated unjustly but who does not give up, shows concretely how to practise this faith. The overall teaching is clear: faith is a constant commitment, an active resistance, which requires stubbornness, humility and trust in God's justice, even in the face of difficulties and the apparent absence of a response.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

Opening armoured gates

(Lk 12:13-21)

«Some parts of our human family, it appears, can be readily sacrificed for the sake of others considered worthy of a carefree existence» [Fratelli Tutti n.18].

Basil the Great commented: «Here we do not condemn those who rob, but those who do not share his».

Senselessness of hoarding.

God’s Gift is complete, but everyone is in need. Why? To accentuate the «fruitful interchange».

And we are experiencing it: only the desire to be ‘born in reciprocity’ can combat the «impoverishment of all» and the same «cultural sclerosis» [cf. FT 133-138].

Each gesture of generosity conceals the blossoming of an innate life-giving energy, which makes the soul and capital flow outside the tight walls and beyond the edges of one’s storage.

A spur that does not make people fall back on convenience. An impulse that will instead shift our imagination towards entirely different horizons, beliefs and desires.

In short, taking communion is a matter of life and death, because rich and poor live or decline together.

Growth is therefore in giving and receiving.

In the unsurpassed Homily 6, the first of the Cappadocian Fathers emphasized that even those who abound in goods are tormented on what to do, asking themselves: «What will I do?».

«He complains like the poor. Are not these the words of who is oppressed by misery? What am I going to do? [...] What will I do? The answer was simple: I will satiate the hungry, open the barns and call all the poor' [...] Do not raise the prices. Do not wait for the famine to open the barns [...] Do not wait for the people to be reduced to hunger to increase your gold, nor the general misery for your enrichment. Do not trade on human misfortunes [...] Do not exacerbate the wounds inflicted by the scourge of adversity. You turn your eyes to your gold and you turn it away from your brother, you recognize every coin and you know how to distinguish the false one from the true one, but you completely ignore the brother who is in need».

The rich man in the parable seems to have no labourers or relatives, no wife, or children and friends: he had them, but in his reality there are - really - only him and possessions.

«Fool!» - God says to him (v.20).

The solution was very simple: opening the gates, so that the piled food could overflow for the needs of the less fortunate - instead of wasting time scrapping and rebuilding warehouses.

Maybe he died of a heart attack, but he was already dead in his soul.

The entrepreneur who scrutinizes the needs of others for profit, immediately perishes inside and outside; he suffers agitation, insomnia, torment, due to the stress of managing those external mirages.

It is these bizarre dreams that take breath away and become endless nightmares, dissipating our best energies.

On the contrary, it is in a climate of coexistence and conviviality of differences that the best stimuli and advice can be found, including for discovering what suits us best.

It would be enough to overcome greed, vanity and the common mindset, to feel better.

By abandoning the spirit of hoarding, we will move away from the obsession with calculation and immediate [fleeting] interests.

In this dynamic, experience opens up to the many faces of reality and people, living by Friendship.

Here, the intensity of our bonds fuels personal motivation, challenges, and the blossoming of love that drives our Vision forward.

Here is the threshold of the new Pearls that vice versa can emerge: to trust in life, in the new roads, in the actions that do not block the development of everyone, nor threaten the sense of Fraternity.

Leaving aside the stockpiling, we can yield to the liberating Exodus.

First step along the Way of our full Happiness: investing the many goods we still have to create Encounter and Relationship.

A matter of life or death (v.20).

[Monday 29th wk. in O.T.  October 20, 2025]

In the Gospel [...] Jesus' teaching concerns, precisely, true wisdom and is introduced by one of the crowd: "Teacher, bid my brother divide the inheritance with me" (Lk 12: 13). In answering, Jesus puts him on guard against those who are influenced by the desire for earthly goods with the Parable of the Rich Fool who having put away for himself an abundant harvest stops working, uses up all he possesses, enjoying himself and even deceives himself into thinking he can keep death at an arm's length. However God says to him "Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?" (Lk 12: 20). The fool in the Bible, the one who does not want to learn from the experience of visible things, that nothing lasts for ever but that all things pass away, youth and physical strength, amenities and important roles. Making one's life depend on such an ephemeral reality is therefore foolishness. The person who trusts in the Lord, on the other hand, does not fear the adversities of life, nor the inevitable reality of death: he is the person who has acquired a wise heart, like the Saints.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 1 August 2010]

1. Our meditation on Psalm 49[48] will be divided into two parts, just as it is proposed on two separate occasions by the Liturgy of Vespers. We will now comment in detail on the first part in which it is hardship that inspires reflection, as in Psalm 72[71]. The just man must face "evil days" since he is surrounded by "the malice of [his] foes", who "boast of the vastness of their riches" (cf. Ps 49[48]: 6-7). 

The conclusion that the just man reaches is formulated as a sort of proverb, a refrain that recurs in the finale to the whole Psalm. It sums up clearly the predominant message of this poetic composition: "In his riches, man lacks wisdom:  he is like the beasts that are destroyed" (v. 13). In other words, untold wealth is not an advantage, far from it! It is better to be poor and to be one with God. 

2. The austere voice of an ancient biblical sage, Ecclesiastes or Qoheleth, seems to ring out in this proverb when it describes the apparently identical destiny of every living creature, that of death, which makes frantic clinging to earthly things completely pointless: "As he came from his mother's womb he shall go again, naked as he came, and shall take nothing for his toil.... For the fate of the sons of men and the fate of beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other.... All go to one place" (Eccl 5: 14; 3: 19, 20). 

3. A profound blindness takes hold of man if he deludes himself that by striving to accumulate material goods he can avoid death. Not for nothing does the Psalmist speak of an almost animal-like "lack of understanding". 

The topic, however, was to be explored by all cultures and forms of spirituality and its essence was expressed once and for all by Jesus, who said: "Take heed, and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions" (Lk 12: 15). He then recounts the famous Parable of the Rich Fool who accumulated possessions out of all proportion without a thought of the snare that death was setting for him (cf. Lk 12: 16-21). 

4. The first part of the Psalm is wholly centred on this illusion that has the rich man's heart in its grip. He is convinced that he will also even succeed in "buying off" death, attempting as it were to corrupt it, much as he had to gain possession of everything else, such as success, triumph over others in social and political spheres, dishonest dealings, impunity, his satisfaction, comforts and pleasures. 

But the Psalmist does not hesitate to brand this excess as foolish. He uses a word that also has financial overtones: "ransom": "No man can buy his own ransom, or pay a price to God for his life. The ransom of his soul is beyond him. He cannot buy life without end, nor avoid coming to the grave" (Ps 49[48]: 8-10). 

5. The rich man, clinging to his immense fortune, is convinced that he will succeed in overcoming death, just as with money he had lorded it over everything and everyone. But however vast a sum he is prepared to offer, he cannot escape his ultimate destiny. Indeed, like all other men and women, rich and poor, wise and foolish alike, he is doomed to end in the grave, as happens likewise to the powerful, and he will have to leave behind on earth that gold so dear to him and those material possessions he so idolized (cf. vv. 11-12). 

Jesus asked those listening to him this disturbing question: "What shall a man give in return for his life?" (Mt 16: 26). No exchange is possible, for life is a gift of God, and "in his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind" (Jb 12: 10). 

6. Among the Fathers who commented on Psalm 49[48], St Ambrose deserves special attention. He extends its meaning to a broader vision, starting precisely with the Psalmist's initial invitation:  "Hear this, all you peoples, give heed, all who dwell in the world". 

The Bishop of Milan commented in ancient times: "Let us recognize here, from the outset, the voice of the Lord our Saviour who calls the peoples to the Church in order to renounce sin, to become followers of the truth and to recognize the advantage of faith". Moreover, "all the hearts of the various human generations were polluted by the venom of the serpent, and the human conscience, enslaved by sin, was unable to detach itself from it". This is why the Lord, "of his own initiative, in the generosity of his mercy promised forgiveness, so that the guilty would be afraid no longer and with full awareness rejoice to be able to offer their offices as servants to the good Lord who has forgiven sins and rewarded virtues" (Commento a Dodici Salmi, n. 1:  SAEMO, VIII, Milan-Rome, 1980, p. 253). 

7. In these words of our Psalm we can hear echoes of the Gospel invitation:  "Come to me, all who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you" (Mt 11: 28). Ambrose continues, "Like someone who will come to visit the sick, like a doctor who will come to treat our painful wounds, so [the Lord] points out the cure to us, so that men may hear him clearly and hasten with trust and promptness to receive the healing remedy.... He calls all the peoples to the source of wisdom and knowledge and promises redemption to them all, so that no one will live in anguish or desperation" (n. 2:  ibid., pp. 253, 255).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 20 October 2004]

Today’s Gospel passage (cf. Lk 12:13-21) begins with the narrative of a man who stands up among the multitude and asks Jesus to settle a legal matter concerning a family inheritance. However, Jesus does not address the matter in his reply, but rather urges the people to eschew covetousness, that is, the greed of possession. In order to divert his listeners from this exhausting search for wealth, Jesus tells the parable of the foolish rich man who believes he is happy because he has had the good fortune to reap an exceptional harvest and he feels secure thanks to the goods he has accumulated. It would do you good to read it today; it is in the 12th Chapter of Saint Luke, verse 13. It is a beautiful parable that teaches us a great deal. The narrative comes to the fore in the contrast between what the rich man plans for himself and what God plans for him instead.

The rich man puts three considerations before his soul, that is, himself: the accumulated goods, the many years that these goods appear to ensure him, and thirdly tranquility and unrestrained enjoyment (cf v. 19). But the word that God addresses to him nullifies his plans. Instead of “many years”, God points to the immediacy of “this night; tonight you will die”. Instead of the “enjoyment of life”, He presents him with “surrendering his life; you will render your life to God” with the ensuing judgment. Regarding the reality of the ample goods accumulated on which the rich man had based everything, it becomes shrouded in sarcasm by the question: “and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” (v. 20). Let us think about quarrels over inheritance, many family quarrels. And how many people; we all know some stories about many people, who turn up at the time of death: nephews, grandchildren come around to see: “what is my share?”, and they cart everything away. It is within this contrast that the term “fool” — because he thinks about things that he believes to be concrete but that are fantasy — with which God addresses this man, is justified. He is foolish because in practice he has denied God, he has not taken Him into account.

The end of the parable as recounted by the Evangelist is uniquely effective: “So is he who lays up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God” (v. 21). It is a warning which reveals the horizon towards which we are called to look. Material goods are necessary — they are goods! —, but they are a means to live honestly and in sharing with the neediest. Today, Jesus invites us to consider that wealth can enslave the heart and distract it from the true treasure which is in heaven. Saint Paul also reminds us of this in today’s second reading. It says “seek the things that are above.... Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth” (Col 3:1-2).

It is understood that this does not mean estranging oneself from reality, but rather seeking the things that have true value: justice, solidarity, welcome, fraternity, peace, all things that make up the true dignity of mankind. It is a case of leading a life that is fulfilled not according to a worldly manner, but rather according to the style of the Gospel: to love God with all one’s being, and love one’s neighbour as Jesus loved him, that is, in service and in giving oneself. Covetousness of goods, the desire to have goods, does not satisfy the heart, but rather causes more hunger! Covetousness is like those tasty candies: you take one and say: “Ah! It is so good”, and then you take another; and one follows the other. Such is covetousness: it never satisfies. Be careful! Love that is understood and lived in [the style of the Gospel] is the source of true happiness, whereas the exaggerated search for material goods and wealth is often a source of anxiety, adversity, abuse of power, war. Many wars begin from covetousness.

May the Virgin Mary help us not to be attracted by forms of security that fade, but rather to be credible witnesses of the eternal values of the Gospel, each day.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 4 August 2019]

The scandal of waiting

(Lk 18:1-8)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It becomes Reading and Intuition that meets the deep states.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[29th Sunday (year C), October 19, 2025]

The scandal of waiting and the kidnapping of the prelates

(Lk 18:1-8)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It becomes Reading and Intuition encountering the profound states.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S. Augustine, "Letter to Proba"

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

Failing without failing: unceasing struggle with ourselves and with God

(Mt 7:7-12)

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

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

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

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

The demands diminish, until they almost cease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This process shifts the conditional emphasis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In meditating on the biblical Readings for this Sunday and thinking of the situation of Naples, I was struck by the fact that today the main theme of the Word of God is prayer; indeed, we "ought always to pray and not lose heart", as the Gospel says (cf. Lk 18: 1). At first sight, this might seem a message not particularly relevant, unrealistic, not very incisive with regard to a social reality with so many problems such as yours. But, if we think about it, we understand that this Word contains a message that certainly goes against the tide and yet is destined to illuminate in depth the conscience of this Church and city of yours. I would sum it up like this: the power that changes the world and transforms it into the Kingdom of God, in silence and without fanfare, is faith - and prayer is the expression of faith. When faith is filled with love for God, recognized as a good and just Father, prayer becomes persevering, insistent, it becomes a groan of the spirit, a cry of the soul that penetrates God's Heart. Thus, prayer becomes the greatest transforming power in the world. In the face of a difficult and complex social reality, as yours certainly is, it is essential to strengthen hope which is based on faith and expressed in unflagging prayer. It is prayer that keeps the torch of faith alight. Jesus asks, as we heard at the end of the Gospel: "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" (Lk 18: 8). It is a question that makes us think. What will be our answer to this disturbing question? Today, let us repeat together with humble courage: Lord, in coming among us at this Sunday celebration you find us gathered together with the lamp of faith lit. We believe and trust in you! Increase our faith! 

The biblical Readings we have heard present several models to inspire us in our profession of faith, which is also always a profession of hope because faith and hope open the earth to divine power, to the power for good. They are the figures of the widow, whom we encounter in the Gospel parable, and of Moses, of whom the Book of Exodus speaks. The widow of the Gospel (cf. Lk 18: 1-8) makes us think of the "little", the lowliest, but also of so many simple, upright people who suffer because of abuse, who feel powerless in the face of the perduring social malaise and are tempted to despair. To them Jesus repeats: look at this poor widow, with what tenacity does she insist and in the end succeeds in being heard by a dishonest judge! How could you imagine that your Heavenly Father, who is good and faithful and powerful, who desires only his children's good, would not do justice to you in his own time? Faith assures us that God hears our prayers and grants them at the appropriate moment, although our daily experience seems to deny this certainty. In fact, in the face of certain events in the news or of life's numerous daily hardships which the press does not even mention, the supplication of the ancient Prophet: "O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? Or cry to you, "Violence!' and you will not save?" (Heb 1: 2) wells up in the heart spontaneously. There is one answer to this heartfelt invocation: God cannot change things without our conversion, and our true conversion begins with the "cry" of the soul imploring forgiveness and salvation. Christian prayer is not, therefore, an expression of fatalism or inertia; on the contrary, it is the opposite of evasion from reality, from consoling intimism. It is the force of hope, the maximum expression of faith in the power of God who is Love and does not abandon us. The prayer Jesus taught us which culminated in Gethsemane has the character of "competitiveness", that is, of a struggle because we line up with determination at the Lord's side to fight injustice and conquer evil with good; it is the weapon of the lowly and the poor in spirit, who reject every type of violence. Indeed, they respond to it with evangelical non-violence, thereby testifying that the truth of Love is stronger than hatred and death. 

This also emerges in the First Reading, the famous account of the battle between the Israelites and Amalek's men (cf. Ex 17: 8-13a). It was precisely prayer, addressed with faith to the true God, that determined the fate of that harsh conflict. While Joshua and his men were tackling their adversaries on the battlefield, Moses was standing on the hilltop, his hands uplifted in the position of a person praying. These raised hands of the great leader guaranteed Israel's victory. God was with his people; he wanted them to win but made Moses' uplifted hands the condition for his intervention.
It seems incredible, but that is how it is: God needs the raised hands of his servant! Moses' raised arms are reminiscent of the arms of Jesus on the Cross: the outspread, nailed arms with which the Redeemer won the crucial battle against the infernal enemy. His fight, his arms raised to the Father and wide open for the world, ask for other arms, other hearts that continue to offer themselves with his same love until the end of the world.

[Pope Benedict, homily in Naples, 21 October 2007]

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

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

[Pope John Paul II, homily, 6th November 1988]