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

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

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

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

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

*Responsorial Psalm (94/95), 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

+Giovanni D'Ercole

External solution?

(Lk 16:19-31)

Today's Gospel raises a question of apparent obviousness: is it not perhaps in the natural order of things that in human society there are first and last, learned and ignorant, princes and subjects?

Even Leo XIII, Pope of the social encyclicals, recognized that «in human society it is according to the order established by God that there are princes and subjects, masters and proletarians, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, nobles and plebeians; the obligation of charity of the rich and the landowners is to help the poor and the destitute» [mentality of an omission’ sin: it is enough that they then do "charity"].

The position of the Lord is very very different.

According to Lk the rich man is not the Blessed by God, as the patriarchs of the First Testament were considered.

His sought-after clothing is only a metaphor for the inner emptiness and ephemeral he basks in - what will later be corroded by moths.

His gorging is a sign of an intimate abyss to be bridged - a sort of nervous hunger.

«Eli hezer»: «God helps»; He does not forget, on the contrary He is definitely on the unsteady’ side. Therefore, that form of "enjoying life" is giving up living completely.

The evangelist does not specify that Lazarus was a good and responsible person: just a poor.

Nor does he affirm that the “Dives” was a total criminal: if the indigent stopped outside his door and nowhere else, it means that was remedying something there.

But at that time there was no cutlery and rich men cleaned their fingers with the crumb, then thrown on the ground; the miserable ate of this.

A dog's life, worse than insults. And ignored.

Radical evil, which was not in the individual acts, rather in the depths of being, and in the consequent global carelessness.

Inattention that tends to choose consensus and hierarchies as the ultimate backdrop to existence.

Therefore the question that the passage of Lk reiterates is not trivially moralistic: merits or faults, juridical or religious.

Question arises about humanity itself: diminished, reduced, arid, incapacitated; unable to articulate a deliberate reversal.

Inextricably linked to the already dug abyss.

The Gospel wants to stimulate us to reflect not on the theme of lawful almsgiving, but on warning, and the Communion of resources: on the meaning of unbridled wealth alongside poverty.

Involuntary misery is often considered a situation by now habitual, but this drama affects persons and entire peoples.

And how can we distract from the seduction of material goods?

Overcoming the lures of money and the craving for accumulation which generates social paralysis and devastating humiliation, is a true miracle.

And neither a prodigy nor a vision can do a miracle of conscience (vv.29-31).

Least of all a common religion, if it tended to sacralize and not interfere, to make positions persist; to be complicit in manifacturing poor and rich, gaining on both.

In short, to build the Kingdom and change the divided world, it is only worth letting oneself be educated by the Word of God.

Intimate Seed and Germ, Event-Therapy, Energetic Spirit and Call: which introduces into the active and nuptial awareness of Love.

Logos that places us in the right position. Exception Warning; not external.

Founding Eros that already here and now reverses situations.

[Thursday 2nd wk. in Lent, March 5, 2026]

External solution?

(Lk 16:19-31)

The reversal of situations in the afterlife is a theme belonging to the entire culture of the ancient Middle East - an area strongly marked by social discrimination. But the meaning of the Gospel is profound.

The new IEC translation has correctly rendered the term Hades (v.23) as "underworld", no longer "hell" [IEC '74] because the sense of Jesus' parable is all about the hereafter!

The "behind the clouds" has nothing to do with it. What the Lord is interested in is not so much the final fate as the current situation of those who listen to him - starting with his own followers: where are they going?

In the parables of Mercy and the yielding Father Luke (15:1-32) announced that a lost man would be a defeat for God himself.

His unfamiliar Face induces the envious front-runners to spy on the freedom that the newcomers of the Church allow themselves.

"Who has authorised you to consider yourselves equal to the others and to undermine our precedence, without having undergone the whole rigmarole, the stubborn commitment and the labours of us veterans?"

The pagans have it easy (Lk 16:1-15): they accuse the old men of hiding their spirit of unmovable greed under the ill-concealed guise of "tributes", meritorious works, and hierarchical necessities.

Easily the 'best' are caught red-handed, accustomed as they are to reverence God in order to serve together a different master - well hidden.

In fact, after narrating the parable of the dishonest steward, Jesus himself hears sniggering behind his back (Lk 16:14), not the sinners, but precisely the pious and bigoted people.

They are the cunning elite attached to things and lovers of money (vv.13-15) - accustomed to exercising that ancient [easy, rightly valued profession of religious leaders]. What the Lord had described as incompatible ("abomination": v.15): reverencing the Most High and pocketing his loot.

"Poor deluded man!" - the traders, false friends of God, would say of our Master: "Impossible to make followers without loot: the Gratis of Love is a beautiful dream, but it raises nothing, it doesn't amass proselytes and it doesn't trigger the predatory instincts of the first of the class!"

In today's Gospel passage, those who consider themselves entitled to precedence [in the community of sons!] raise a question of seeming obviousness:

Is it not in the natural order of things that in human society there are first and last, learned and ignorant, rulers and subjects?

After all, the legal principle that governed all private property law in the Latin world is also the motto of a well-known official newspaper: Unicuique Suum.

Even Leo XIII, pope of the Social Encyclicals, recognised that "in human society it is according to the order established by God that there are princes and subjects, masters and proletarians, rich and poor, learned and ignorant, nobles and plebeians; the obligation of charity of the rich and the powerful is to provide for the poor and destitute" [a sin of simple omission: it is enough for them to do 'charity'].

The Lord's position is very very different. For Lk, the rich man is not God's blessed one, as the landowners were supposed to be - and so were the patriarchs of the First Testament.

His coveted clothing is only a metaphor for the inner emptiness and ephemerality he revels in - that which will later be corroded by moths.

His gorging is a sign of an inner abyss to be filled - a kind of nervous hunger, which feels dizzy.

"Eli hezer" ["Lazarus"]: God helps, but not the epulon - according to the pious, holier-than-thou, backward mentality.

He does not forget; on the contrary, he is firmly on the side of the shaky: the Faith believes the opposite of archaic religions!

Therefore, the careless 'enjoying life' of the rich man is to renounce living altogether: he does not even have a name - a terrifying thing for the ancient mentality.

The evangelist does not state that Lazarus may once have been a good and responsible person: just a poor man.

Nor does he state that the great lord was a total delinquent: apart from the 'blindness'... if the destitute preferred to stay outside his door and not elsewhere, it means that he was getting something there.

But in those days there was no cutlery and one wiped one's fingers with breadcrumbs, which were then thrown on the ground; this was what the wretched ate.

A dog's life, worse than insults. And ignored.

Here was the radical evil: which was not in individual acts, but rather in the depths of being, and the resulting global carelessness.

Carelessness that tends to choose consensus and hierarchies as the ultimate background of existence.

So the question that the passage from Lk reiterates is not trivially moralistic: merits or faults, juridical or religious.

The question is posed about humanity itself: diminished, reduced, barren, incapable; incapable of scanning a deliberate reversal.

Inextricably bound to the abysses already dug. 

The Gospel wants to stimulate us to reflect not on the issue of permissible almsgiving, but rather on the warning, and communion of resources: on the meaning of unbridled wealth alongside poverty.

Unintentional misery is often seen as a commonplace situation, but such drama affects individuals and entire peoples - from birth to death forced into an unbalanced reality, or one that is impossible to sustain.

In many areas, class disharmonies even tend to worsen, perhaps due to an internal logic of an economic and social system that tends to concentrate power and direct resources.

In ancient times, the 'bosom of Abraham' (vv.22-23) was the condition that recognised the success of God's plan, the place of the fulfilment of Israel's Promises.

Even today, those who do not perceive that some perish in a world of misery, turn life into a failure; they find themselves useless and empty, they do not come into the Light of Life.

Those who flounder - without the encounter with others - choose a form of existence that has nothing to do with the People of God; nothing to do with the Mystery of the Eternal, and its blessings.

How then not to sink into the abyss of insignificance?

It is not a fate due to ignorance or a spirit of revenge, that which collides with the Father's plan for his children.

Being open to the humanising sensitivity and greatness of God's work is not a matter of some heavenly 'later' vengeful mechanism.

So neither is it a matter of some sort of (albeit eloquent) forlorn warning.

So how do we turn away from the seduction of possessions?

Conquering the lure of money and the lust for accumulation, which generates social paralysis and humiliation that devastates the person, is a miracle.

And a miracle of conscience can do neither an immediate prodigy nor a vision (vv.29-31).

Neither can a common religion, if it tends to sacralise and not interfere, to make positions permanent; to be complicit in making the poor and the rich poor, gaining on both.

What Jesus refers to is Listening. The "Shemà Israel" - recited twice daily.

In extreme poverty of means, "Hear Israel" is the Call of the Father.

The Lord shares in the oppressed situation of too many of his children - unable to dress in expensive clothes or feast lavishly and frequently.

In short, to build the Kingdom and change the divided world, it is only worth letting oneself be educated by the Word of God.

Intimate Seed and Germ, Therapy-event, energetic Word and Call: which introduces us into the active and spousal awareness of Love.

Logos that places us in the right position. Unique warning; not external.

Foundational Eros that already reverses situations here and now.

Today, Luke's Gospel presents to us the parable of the rich man and poor Lazarus (Lk 16: 19-31). The rich man personifies the wicked use of riches by those who spend them on uncontrolled and selfish luxuries, thinking solely of satisfying themselves without caring at all for the beggar at their door.

The poor man, on the contrary, represents the person whom God alone cares for: unlike the rich man he has a name: "Lazarus", an abbreviation of "Eleazarus", which means, precisely, "God helps him".

God does not forget those who are forgotten by all; those who are worthless in human eyes are precious in the Lord's. The story shows how earthly wickedeness is overturned by divine justice: after his death, Lazarus was received "in the bosom of Abraham", that is, into eternal bliss; whereas the rich man ended up "in Hades, in torment". This is a new and definitive state of affairs against which no appeal can be made, which is why one must mend one's ways during one's life; to do so after serves no purpose.

This parable can also be interpreted in a social perspective. Pope Paul VI's interpretation of it 40 years ago in his Encyclical Populorum Progressio remains unforgettable. Speaking of the campaign against hunger he wrote: "It is a question... of building a world where every man... can live a fully human life... where the poor man Lazarus can sit down at the same table with the rich man" (n. 47).

The cause of the numerous situations of destitution, the Encyclical recalls, is on the one hand "servitude imposed.... by other men", and on the other, "natural forces over which [the person] has not sufficient control" (ibid.).

Unfortunately, some populations suffer from both these factors. How can we fail to think at this time especially of the countries of Sub-Saharan Africa, affected by serious floods in the past few days? Nor can we forget the many other humanitarian emergencies in various regions of the planet, in which conflicts for political and economic power contribute to exacerbating existing, oppressive environmental situations.

The appeal voiced by Paul VI at that time, "Today the peoples in hunger are making a dramatic appeal to the peoples blessed with abundance" (ibid., n. 3), is still equally pressing today.

We cannot say that we do not know which way to take: we have the Law and the Prophets, Jesus tells us in the Gospel. Those who do not wish to listen to them would not change even if one of the dead were to return to admonish them.

May the Virgin Mary help us to make the most of the present time to listen to and put into practice these words of God. May she obtain for us that we become more attentive to our brethren in need, to share with them the much or the little that we have and to contribute, starting with ourselves, to spreading the logic and style of authentic solidarity.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 30 September 2007]

Whole-heartedly. I emphasise, here, the adjective 'whole'. Totalitarianism in politics is bad. In religion, on the other hand, our totalitarianism in the face of God is perfectly fine. It is written: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. These precepts which I give thee today, let them be fixed in thy heart; thou shalt repeat them to thy children, thou shalt speak of them when thou sittest in thy house, when thou walkest by the way, when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. You shall bind them to your hand as a sign, they shall be like a pendant between your eyes, and you shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your doors". That "all" repeated and bent into practice with such insistence is truly the banner of Christian maximalism. And it is right: God is too great, too much He deserves from us, for us to throw to Him, as to a poor Lazarus, just a few crumbs of our time and heart. He is infinite good and will be our eternal happiness: the money, the pleasures, the fortunes of this world, in comparison with Him, are barely fragments of good and fleeting moments of happiness. It would be unwise to give so much of us to these things and so little of us to Jesus. Above all things. Now we come to a direct comparison between God and man, between God and the world. It would not be right to say: "Either God or man". One must love "and God and man"; the latter, however, never more than God or against God or equal to God. In other words: God's love is indeed prevalent, but not exclusive. The Bible declares Jacob holy and beloved of God, shows him working seven years to win Rachel as his wife; "and they seemed to him but a few days, those years, so great was his love for her". Francis de Sales comments on these words: "Jacob," he writes, "loves Rachel with all his strength, and with all his strength he loves God; but he does not love Rachel as God nor God as Rachel. He loves God as his God above all things and more than himself; he loves Rachel as his wife above all other women and as himself. He loves God with absolutely and sovereignly supreme love, and Rachel with supreme marital love; the one love is not contrary to the other, because Rachel's love does not violate the supreme advantages of the love of God". And for your sake I love my neighbour. Here we are faced with two loves that are "twin brothers" and inseparable. Some people it is easy to love; others, it is difficult; we do not like them, they have offended us and done us harm; only if I love God seriously, do I come to love them, as daughters of God and because he asks me to. Jesus also laid down how to love one's neighbour: not only with feeling, but with deeds. This is the way, he said. I will ask you: I was hungry in the person of my least brothers, did you give me food? Did you visit me when I was sick?

The Catechism translates these and other words from the Bible into the double list of the seven corporal and seven spiritual works of mercy. The list is not complete and should be updated. Among the hungry, for example, today, it is no longer just about this or that individual; there are whole peoples.

We all remember the great words of Pope Paul VI: 'The peoples of hunger today dramatically challenge the peoples of affluence. The Church trembles before this cry of anguish and calls each one to respond with love to his brother'. At this point charity is joined by justice, because - Paul VI goes on to say - "private property does not constitute for anyone an unconditional and absolute right. No one is authorised to reserve for his own exclusive use what exceeds his need, when others lack the necessary". Consequently, 'every exhausting arms race becomes an intolerable scandal'.

In the light of these strong expressions, we see how far we - individuals and peoples - are still from loving others 'as ourselves', which is Jesus' command.

Another command: forgive offences received. It seems as if the Lord gives this forgiveness precedence over worship: "If therefore you present your offering on the altar and there you remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go first to be reconciled with your brother and then return to offer your gift".

The last words of the prayer are: Lord, may I love you more and more. Here too there is obedience to a command from God, who has put the thirst for progress in our hearts. From stilts, caves and the first huts, we have moved on to houses, palaces, skyscrapers; from travelling on foot, on the back of a mule or camel, to carriages, trains, planes. And we still want to progress by ever faster means, reaching ever more distant destinations. But loving God - we have seen it - is also a journey: God wants it more and more intense and perfect. He said to all his own: 'You are the light of the world, the salt of the earth'; 'be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect'. This means: love God not a little, but a lot; do not stop at the point where you have arrived, but with His help, progress in love.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 27 September 1978]

I should like to pause with you today on the parable of the rich man and the poor Lazarus. The lives of these two people seem to run on parallel tracks: their life status is opposite and not at all connected. The gate of the rich man’s house is always closed to the poor man, who lies outside it, seeking to eat the leftovers from the rich man’s table. The rich man is dressed in fine clothes, while Lazarus is covered with sores; the rich man feasts sumptuously every day, while Lazarus starves. Only the dogs take care of him, and they come to lick his wounds. This scene recalls the harsh reprimand of the Son of Man at the Last Judgement: “I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was [...] naked and you did not clothe me” (Mt 25:42-43). Lazarus is a good example of the silent cry of the poor throughout the ages and the contradictions of a world in which immense wealth and resources are in the hands of the few.

Jesus says that one day that rich man died: the poor and the rich die, they have the same destiny, like all of us, there are no exceptions to this. Thus, that man turned to Abraham, imploring him in the name of ‘father’ (vv. 24, 27). Thereby claiming to be his son, belonging to the People of God. Yet in life he showed no consideration toward God. Instead he made himself the centre of all things, closed inside his world of luxury and wastefulness. In excluding Lazarus, he did not take into consideration the Lord nor his law. To ignore a poor man is to scorn God! We must learn this well: to ignore the poor is to scorn God. There is a detail in the parable that is worth noting: the rich man has no name, but only an adjective: ‘the rich man’; while the name of the poor man is repeated five times, and ‘Lazarus’ means ‘God helps’. Lazarus, who is lying at the gate, is a living reminder to the rich man to remember God, but the rich man does not receive that reminder. Hence, he will be condemned not because of his wealth, but for being incapable of feeling compassion for Lazarus and for not coming to his aid.

In the second part of the parable, we again meet Lazarus and the rich man after their death (vv. 22-31). In the hereafter the situation is reversed: the poor Lazarus is carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom in heaven, while the rich man is thrown into torment. Thus the rich man “lifted up his eyes, and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus in his bosom”. He seems to see Lazarus for the first time, but his words betray him: “Father Abraham”, he calls, “have mercy upon me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in anguish in this flame”. Now the rich man recognizes Lazarus and asks for his help, while in life he pretended not to see him. How often do many people pretend not to see the poor! To them the poor do not exist. Before he denied him even the leftovers from his table, and now he would like him to bring him a drink! He still believes he can assert rights through his previous social status. Declaring it impossible to grant his request, Abraham personally offers the key to the whole story: he explains that good things and evil things have been distributed so as to compensate for earthly injustices, and the door that in life separated the rich from the poor is transformed into “a great chasm”. As long as Lazarus was outside his house, the rich man had the opportunity for salvation, to thrust open the door, to help Lazarus, but now that they are both dead, the situation has become irreparable. God is never called upon directly, but the parable clearly warns: God’s mercy toward us is linked to our mercy toward our neighbour; when this is lacking, also that of not finding room in our closed heart, He cannot enter. If I do not thrust open the door of my heart to the poor, that door remains closed. Even to God. This is terrible.

At this point, the rich man thinks about his brothers, who risk suffering the same fate, and he asks that Lazarus return to the world in order to warn them. But Abraham replies: “They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them”. In order to convert, we must not wait for prodigious events, but open our heart to the Word of God, which calls us to love God and neighbour. The Word of God may revive a withered heart and cure it of its blindness. The rich man knew the Word of God, but did not let it enter his heart, he did not listen to it, and thus was incapable of opening his eyes and of having compassion for the poor man. No messenger and no message can take the place of the poor whom we meet on the journey, because in them Jesus himself comes to meet us: “as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40), Jesus says. Thus hidden in the reversal of fate that the parable describes lies the mystery of our salvation, in which Christ links poverty with mercy.

Dear brothers and sisters, listening to this Gospel passage, all of us, together with the poor of the earth, can sing with Mary: “He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away” (Lk 1:52-53).

[Pope Francis, General Audience 18 May 2016]

(Mt 20:17-28)

The Roman Empire subjugated the Mediterranean basin with the strength of the Legions.

Through a large base of slaves and tributes, it concentrated titles and wealth in the hands of small circles - with abuse of power and coercion.

New Kingdom must be the seed of an alternative society.

The pivot will be to regain a kind of synthesis of Jesus' life in order to make it one's own, as expressed in v.28.

Three titles are enunciated here that gave rise to Christology:

«Son of man» is the One who manifested man in the divine condition: fullness of humanity that reflects and reveals the very intimate life of God.

Figure of an accessible and transmissible "holiness", fully embodied -  day-to-day even.

Son of man is in fact the authentic and full development of the person according to the active Dream of the Father, which sweeps away the obsessive "yoke" of the common religion - expanding life (and the ego boundaries).

In adhering to the «Son of man» we are introduced as protagonists into salvation history.

Collaborators in the apex of Creation - that is, in the process of love. And we are detached from the pre-human of competitions [a warlike condition for supremacy’s desire].

«Servant» of Yahweh: Righteous who suffers pains of Love, to save us - an icon of the subdued and wise strength of the Father who through his sons expresses himself not as a conqueror, but as a meek lamb.

Sacrificial icon - in the ancient sense of «sacrum facere», to make Sacred - to revive a people unable to go to God through their brothers.

In Judaism, the ‘death of the righteous’ - even in the legal dimension of the Torah - was equal to a ransom, already understood as reparation-atonement for the multitude (v.28) of the guilty (cf. Is 53:11-12).

In Christ the vicarious mechanism vanishes: the Father sends the Son not as an external or propitiatory victim, necessary and predestined, but to make us reflect, first step in humanization.

Thus recovering the dimension of awareness and Communion [conviviality of differences].

Hence: the only title of "pre-eminence" remains that of «Go'el»: making oneself (each) «close relative» who takes on all debt for the ransom of others, for the restoration of personal dignity - and total self-possession.

Full brotherhood with women and men of all conditions: should be the growing programme of the Apostle.

Despite the disproportion, only this reversal of the Face is at the center of history and doesn’t lower God to the level of banal ‘domination’.

Turning and Freedom that becomes a permanent program of effective solidarity, and stimulates fervor.

Determining Principle of the new Kingdom, where ambitions are not chased.

Rather, the Master’s fate is shared, that is, «drinking the same Chalice» (vv. 22-23) and the destiny of others’ fulfillment; even paradoxical.

In Christ, the Church-Family people proceed towards Jerusalem, without merits or functions that claim a right - but with the keys of ‘Life’.

This is how we concretely find ourselves «on the right and left» (vv. 21.23) of the royal Crucified One - and in mystical Union with the wounded Risen One.

By ascending together.

[Wednesday 2nd wk. in Lent, March 4, 2026]

The anti-ambition or the front row in the pattern of the satraps

(Mt 20:17-28)

Unofficially, Pius VII tried to lift the triregnum (neoclassical style, unusual) given to him by Napoleon, but his pages could hardly lift it up because of the weight.

Let alone carry 8 kilos and 200 grams on his head! He even tried to put it on, however, while of course someone also supported him from the side [imagine if he had fallen on his red slippers].

But it was also too tight: impossible to get your head into it!

Out of spite, Bonaparte the new emperor had it made so that no pope could ever wear it; and so it was, the ironic museum piece.

The imposition formula was: 'Receive the Tiara adorned with three crowns, and know that Thou art Father of Princes and Kings, Ruler of the world, Vicar on earth of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, to whom be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

While amidst symphonies and choirs some were waiting for the moment of the tiara to weep a little over the ancient splendours, at the celebration of the reopening of the Council - after the coronation - Paul VI finally laid the triregnum on the papal altar.

He took it off with satisfaction, not because it was uncomfortable (he had a good four and a half kilos on his head): later he also made other gestures of unexpected renunciation with demands to be obeyed.

After him, no pope had the courage to adorn himself.

It was an opportunity not to be missed by anyone with vast experience of curial and diplomatic circles.

With the keys of Heaven, the reins of the earth and the command of Purgatory [the three crowns] in his fist, the pontiff decided to bring up several flames from underground - to overheat the strains of some careerist from the sidelines, accustomed to directing souls by standing on top of any trunk.

Pope Francis speaks explicitly of clericalism as the root of all the Church's moral evils [if we do not get the grace of principality, it would not hurt to at least aspire to the roles of those who stand beside the leaders: v.21].

Like the ambition of the sons of Zebedee, among us it is all a scramble for a place in the sun - a very serious and radical deficiency, incapable of any activity of critical prophecy.

A false concept of the kingdom: that is why the plane is often off course, which does not bode well for ambitious leaders, always strangely in the race.

(Never shrink back and let the faithful or brethren think of us as idiots who do not 'reap' and therefore do not know how to be in the world).

Officially united to the Offering of the Servant Son, in fact not everyone believes that in the weakness of the believer stands out the divine Power and authentic Esteem that builds the fabric of the present and launches the future.

So much for the dreamers of Neverland: to so many it seems more dignified to presume upon oneself.

It is better to think that the glorious Cross of Christ is a momentary parenthesis and entirely his own, the fruit of a pre-established plan or of a blind destiny, so that the humiliation of making oneself small does not touch us.

Behind the good manners, bad habits creep in - and greed, which through fixed privileges leads the churches to the loss of meaning and cohesion.

With a trail of life annuities [lifelong prerogatives and titles, with no possibility of ministerial replacement, no checks and balances].

Those who aim for visibility and trunks have no real interest in people, except for their co-opted elite.

They think calculatingly and act according to vanity: displaying their 'spiritual' rank, with an artificial sense of honour, and pre-eminence, arrogance, spin.

Let us imagine the inscrutable quality of pastoral proposals deprived of the conviction of another Waiting, enlightening. Sometimes set up for greater external shine, and self-congratulation; promoting numbers, window-dressing, and catwalks.

The Empire subjugated the Mediterranean basin with the strength of the Legions. Through a vast slave and tribute base, it concentrated titles and wealth in the hands of small circles - with abuse of power and coercion.

The new kingdom must be the seed of an alternative society.

And when the archetype of the pyramidal Church blows up, a victim of its own internal contradictions, we must be ready to offer people a model of coexistence that no longer disintegrates [with its own boomerangs].

The pivot will be to re-appropriate a kind of synthesis of Jesus' life to make it our own, as expressed in v.28.

Three titles are enunciated here that gave rise to Christology:

"Son of Man" is the One who manifested man in the divine condition: fullness of humanity reflecting and revealing God's own intimate life.

A figure of an accessible and transmissible 'holiness', all incarnate - even summary. 

Son of Man is in fact the authentic and full development of the person according to the active Dream of the Father, which sweeps away the obsessive 'Yoke' of the common Religion - expanding life (and ego boundaries).

In joining the "Son of Man" we are introduced as protagonists in salvation history.

Collaborators in the pinnacle of Creation - that is, in the process of love. And we are detached from the pre-human of competitions [the belligerent condition of lust for supremacy].

"Yahweh's 'Servant': Righteous One who suffers the pains of Love, in order to save us - icon of the Father's resigned and wise strength, who through his sons reveals himself not as victor, but as a meek lamb.

Sacrificial icon - in the ancient sense of 'sacrum facere', to make sacred - to raise up a people unable to go to God through their brothers.

In Judaism, the death of the righteous - even in the juridical dimension of the Torah - was equal to a ransom, already understood as reparation-expiation for the multitude (v.28) of the guilty (cf. Is 53:11-12).

In Christ the vicarious mechanism vanishes: the Father sends the Son not as an external or propitiatory victim, necessary and predestined, but to make us reflect, the first step of humanisation.

Thus recovering the dimension of awareness and Communion [i.e. conviviality of differences].

Hence: the only title of "pre-eminence" remains that of "Go'el": to make oneself (each one) a "Next of kin" who takes on every debt for the redemption of others, for the restoration of personal dignity and total self-possession.

Full fraternity with woman and man of every condition should be the apostle's growing programme.

Unusual instrument of 'excellence' or 'eminence' - yet frankly sapiential, according to nature:

Even the Tao Tê Ching (LII) states: 'Enlightenment, is seeing the small; strength, is sticking to softness'.

Despite the disproportion, only this turning of the Face stands at the centre of the story and does not lower God to the level of trivial domination.

Reversal and Freedom that becomes a permanent programme of active solidarity, and stimulates fervour.

Determining principle of the new Kingdom, where one does not chase ambitions.

Rather, one shares the Master's fate, that is, "drinking the same cup" (vv.22-23) and the destiny of others' fulfilment, even paradoxical.

In Christ, the people of the Church-Family proceed towards Jerusalem, without merits or functions that claim a right - but with the keys to life.

This is how one finds oneself concretely "on the right and left" (vv.21.23) of the royal Crucified One - and in mystical union with the wounded Risen One.

Ascending together.

The word of God proclaimed just now helps us to meditate exactly on this most fundamental aspect. The Gospel passage (Mk 10:32-45) sets before our eyes the icon of Jesus as the Messiah — foretold by Isaiah (cf. Isaiah 53) — who came not to be served but to serve. His lifestyle becomes the basis of new relationships within the Christian community and of a new way of exercising authority.

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem and for the third time, pointing it out to the disciples, predicts the way on which he intends to bring to fulfillment the work entrusted to him by the Father: the way of giving himself humbly, to the point of sacrificing his life, the way of the Passion, the way of the Cross.

Yet, even after this announcement, as had happened for the previous ones, the disciples revealed their great difficulty in understanding, in bringing about the necessary “exodus” from a worldly mind set to the mentality of God.

Such was the case of James and John, the two sons of Zebedee, who ask Jesus to grant them to sit in the places of honour, beside him in “glory”, thus expressing worldly expectations and projects of grandeur, authority and honour.

Jesus, who knows the human heart, is not upset by this request but immediately turns the limelight on its profound implications: “you do not know what you are asking”. He then guides the two brothers to an understanding of what following him means.

So what is the way that any one who wishes to be a disciple must take? It is the way of the Teacher, it is the way of total obedience to God. For this reason Jesus asks James and John: are you prepared to share my decision to carry out the Father's will to the very end? Are you prepared to take this way that passes through humiliation, suffering and death for love? The two disciples, with their confident answer, “we can”, show that once again they have not understood the real meaning of what the Teacher is outlining for them.

And again Jesus patiently helps them take a further step: not even experiencing the cup of suffering and the baptism of death entitles a person to the first place, because the first place is “for those for whom it has been prepared”, it is in the hands of the Heavenly Father. Human beings must not calculate; they must simply abandon themselves to God without making any claims, conforming themselves to his will.

The indignation of the other disciples became an opportunity to extend the teaching to the entire community. Jesus first “called them to him”: this was the act of the original vocation to which he invited them to return.

His reference to the constitutive moment of the calling of the Twelve, to “being with Jesus” in order to be sent out is very significant, because it clearly recalls that every ministry in the Church is always a response to a call of God, never the result of one's own project or personal ambition but, rather, means conforming one's will to the will of the Father who is in Heaven, as Christ did in Gethsemane (cf. Lk 22:42).

No one is master in the Church but all are called, all are sent out, all are reached and guided by divine grace. And this is also our security! Only by listening anew to the word of Jesus who asks, “come, follow me”, only by returning to our original vocation, is it possible to understand our own presence and mission in the Church as authentic disciples.

The request of James and John and the indignation of the other “ten” Apostles raised a central question to which Jesus chose to answer: who is great, who is “first” for God? First of all Jesus looks at behaviour which “those who are supposed to rule over the Gentiles” risk assuming: to “lord it over them”.

Jesus points out to the disciples a completely different conduct. “But it shall not be so among you”. His community follows another rule, another logic, another model: “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all”.

The criterion of greatness and primacy according to God is not domination but service; diaconia is the fundamental law of the disciple and of the Christian community, and lets us glimpse something about “the lordship of God”.

And Jesus also indicates the reference point: the Son of man who came to serve. In other words he sums up his mission in the category of service, not meant in a generic sense but in the concrete sense of the Cross, of the total gift of life as a “ransom”, as redemption for many, and he points it out as a condition of the “sequela”.

It is a message that applies for the Apostles, for the whole Church, and especially for those who have leadership roles in the People of God. It is not the logic of domination, of power according to human criteria but rather the logic of bending down to wash feet, the logic of service, the logic of the Cross that is the root of all exercise of authority.

The Church in every period is committed to conforming to this logic and to testifying to it to make the true “lordship of God” shine out, that of love.

Venerable Brothers appointed to the cardinalitial dignity, the mission to which God calls you today and which qualifies you for an even more responsible ecclesial service, requires an ever greater willingness to adopt the style of the Son of God who came among us as one who serves (cf. Lk 22:25-27).

It is a question of following him in his humble and total gift of himself to the Church, his Bride, on the Cross. It is on this wood that the the grain of wheat — which the Father let fall into the earth of the world — dies, in order to become a ripe fruit.

This is why it is necessary to be even more deeply and firmly rooted in Christ. The intimate relationship with him that transforms life increasingly in such a way that it is possible to say with St Paul, “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20), constitutes the primary requirement if our service is to be serene and joyful and to bear the fruit that the Lord expects of us.

Dear Brothers and Sisters who are gathered round the new Cardinals today: pray for them! Tomorrow, in this Basilica, during the concelebration on the Solemnity of Christ the King, I shall present the ring to them. It will be a further opportunity to “praise the Lord... who keeps faith for ever” (Ps 145[144]), as we said in the Responsorial Psalm.

May his Spirit support the new Cardinals in their commitment of service to the Church, following Christ on the Cross and also, if necessary, usque ad effusionem sanguinis, ever ready to respond to whoever may ask us to account for the hope that is in us, as St Peter said in the Reading (cf. 1 Pt 3:15).

I entrust the new Cardinals and their ecclesial service to Mary, Mother of the Church, so that they may proclaim to all the peoples, with apostolic zeal, the merciful love of God. Amen.

[Pope Benedict, homily at the Consistory 20 November 2010]