Palm Sunday and the Passion of the Lord [29 March 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! We enter Holy Week, of which Palm Sunday already gives us a foretaste of the joy and sorrow, the mystery of love and hatred that leads to death: the whole Passion, death and resurrection of Christ. To relive is not merely to remember, but also to open our hearts ever more to this mystery of salvation.

 

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah (50:4–7)

Isaiah was certainly not thinking of Jesus Christ when he wrote this text, probably in the 6th century BC, during the exile in Babylon. Let me explain: since his people were in exile, in very harsh conditions, and could easily have succumbed to discouragement, Isaiah reminds them that they are always God’s servants. And that God is counting on them, his servants (that is, his people), to bring his plan of salvation for humanity to fulfilment. The people of Israel are therefore this Servant of God, nourished every morning by the Word, yet also persecuted precisely because of their faith and capable, despite everything, of withstanding all trials. In this text, Isaiah clearly describes the extraordinary relationship that unites the Servant (Israel) with his God. Its main characteristic is listening to the Word of God, ‘the open ear’, as Isaiah puts it. ‘Listening’ is a word that has a very particular meaning in the Bible: it means to trust. We usually contrast these two fundamental attitudes between which our lives constantly oscillate: trust in God, a serene surrender to his will because we know from experience that his will is always good; or mistrust, suspicion of God’s intentions, and rebellion in the face of trials—a rebellion that can lead us to believe that God has abandoned us or, worse still, that He might take some satisfaction in our sufferings.

The prophets repeat: “Listen, Israel” or: “Will you listen to the Word of God today?” And on their lips, the exhortation “listen” always means: trust in God, whatever happens. And Saint Paul explains why: We know that all things work together for good for those who love God (Rom 8:28).

From every evil, from every difficulty, from every trial, God brings forth good; to every hatred he opposes an even stronger love; in every persecution, he grants the strength of forgiveness; and from every death, he brings forth life, the resurrection. It is a story of mutual trust. God trusts his Servant and entrusts him with a mission; in turn, the Servant accepts the mission with trust. And it is precisely this trust that gives him the strength needed to remain steadfast even in the opposition he will inevitably encounter. Here the mission is that of a witness: “So that I may sustain with my words those who are weary,” says the Servant. In entrusting him with this mission, the Lord also grants the necessary strength and the appropriate language: “The Lord God has given me the tongue of a disciple.” And even more: he himself nourishes this trust, which is the source of all boldness in the service of others: “The Lord God makes my ear attentive”, which means that listening (in the biblical sense, that is, trust) is itself a gift from God. Everything is a gift: the mission, the strength, and even the trust that makes one unshakeable. This is precisely the hallmark of the believer: to recognise everything as a gift from God. He who lives in this permanent gift of God’s strength can face anything: “I did not resist, I did not turn back.” Faithfulness to the mission received inevitably entails persecution. True prophets, those who truly speak in the name of God, are rarely appreciated during their lifetime. In concrete terms, Isaiah says to his contemporaries: hold fast. The Lord has not abandoned you; on the contrary, you are on a mission for him. Do not be surprised, then, if you are mistreated. Why? Because the Servant who truly listens to the Word of God—that is, who puts it into practice—soon becomes a thorn in the side. His very conversion calls others to conversion. Some heed this call… others reject it and, convinced of their own righteousness, persecute the Servant. And every morning the Servant must return to the source, to the One who enables him to face everything. Isaiah uses a somewhat strange expression: “I set my face like flint” to express resolve and courage. Isaiah was speaking to his people, persecuted and humiliated during the exile in Babylon; but, naturally, when one re-reads the Passion of Christ, this text stands out in all its clarity: Christ corresponds perfectly to this portrait of the Servant of God. Listening to the Word, unshakeable trust and thus the certainty of victory even in the midst of persecution: all this characterised Jesus precisely at the moment when the acclamations of the crowd on Palm Sunday marked and hastened his condemnation.

 

*Responsorial Psalm (21/22)

Psalm 21 (22) begins with the famous cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. This phrase has often been taken out of context and interpreted as a cry of despair, whereas in reality the psalm must be read in its entirety. Indeed, after describing suffering and anguish, it ends with a great song of thanksgiving: “You have answered me! I will proclaim your name to my brothers and sisters’. The one who at first feels forsaken ultimately recognises that God has saved him and has not left him alone. Some images in the psalm seem to describe the crucifixion: ‘They have pierced my hands and my feet’, ‘they divide my garments’, ‘a band of evildoers surrounds me’. This is why the New Testament applies this psalm to the Passion of Jesus. However, the text originated in a specific historical context: the return of the people of Israel from the Babylonian exile. The exile had been like a death sentence for the people, who had risked disappearing; the return to their own land is therefore likened to the liberation of a condemned man who had narrowly escaped death. The image of the crucifixion serves to express the humiliation, violence and sense of abandonment experienced by the people, but the focus of the psalm is not suffering but rather the salvation received. The cry “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” is therefore not a cry of despair or doubt, but the prayer of one who suffers and continues to turn to God with trust. Even in the midst of trial, Israel does not cease to pray and to remember the covenant and the blessings received from the Lord. For this reason, the psalm can be likened to a votive offering: in times of danger, God’s help is invoked, and once saved, thanks are given publicly. The psalm recalls the tragedy endured, but above all proclaims gratitude towards God who has delivered his people. The final verses thus become a great hymn of praise: the poor shall be satisfied, those who seek the Lord shall praise him, and all nations shall acknowledge his lordship. God’s salvation will also be proclaimed to future generations. For this reason, in Christian tradition, this psalm has been recognised as a prophecy of Christ’s Passion: on the cross, Jesus echoes the first verse of the psalm, but just as for Israel, so too for him the final word is not suffering, but salvation and life.

 

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Philippians (2:6–11)

During the exile in Babylon, in the 6th century BC, the prophet Isaiah had bestowed upon the people of Israel the title of Servant of God. Their mission, amidst the trials of exile, was to remain faithful to the faith of their fathers and to bear witness to it among the pagans, even at the cost of humiliation and persecution. Only God could give them the strength to fulfil this mission. When the early Christians were confronted with the scandal of the cross, they sought to understand Jesus’ destiny and found the explanation in the words of St Paul: Jesus ‘emptied himself, taking the form of a servant’. He too faced opposition, humiliation and persecution, drawing his strength from the Father and living in total trust in Him. Although he was of divine nature, Jesus did not seek glory and honours. As Paul says, “though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited”. Precisely because he is God, he claims nothing for himself, but lives in gratuitous love and becomes man to show mankind the way to salvation. His exaltation is not a deserved reward, but a free gift from God. God’s logic is not that of merit or calculation, but that of grace, which is always a free gift. According to Paul, God’s plan is a plan of love: to bring humanity into his life, into his joy and into his communion. This gift is not earned, but received with gratitude. When man demands or claims, he closes himself off from grace, as happened symbolically with the sin in the Garden of Eden. Jesus, on the other hand, lives in the opposite attitude: the total acceptance of the Father’s will, what Paul calls obedience. For this reason, God exalted him and gave him the Name that is above every name: the name of Lord, a title which in the Old Testament belonged only to God. Before him “every knee shall bow”, to quote the words of the prophet Isaiah (Is 45:23). Jesus lived his entire life in humility and trust, even in the face of human violence and death. His obedience – which literally means “to place one’s ear before the word” – expresses a total and trusting listening to the Father’s will. For this reason, Paul’s hymn concludes with the Church’s profession of faith: “Every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father”. In Christ, the glory of God is fully manifested, that is, the revelation of his infinite love. Seeing Jesus love to the very end and give his life, one can recognise, like the centurion beneath the cross, that he is truly the Son of God.

 

*The Passion of Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew (26:14–27:66)

Every year, on Palm Sunday, the liturgy reads the account of the Passion from one of the three Synoptic Gospels; this year it is that of Matthew. The four accounts of the Passion are similar in broad outline, but each evangelist highlights certain particular aspects. Matthew, in particular, recounts certain episodes and details that the others do not mention. First of all, Matthew is the only one to specify the exact sum for which Judas betrays Jesus: thirty pieces of silver, which according to the Law was the price of a slave. This detail shows the contempt with which men treated the Lord. Later, Judas himself, overcome with remorse, returns the money to the chief priests, saying that he has handed over an innocent man to his death. They, however, do not wish to take responsibility for it. Judas throws the coins into the temple and hangs himself; the priests use that money to purchase the potter’s field, intended for the burial of foreigners, later called the ‘Field of Blood’, thus fulfilling a prophetic word. During the trial before Pilate, Matthew recounts a unique episode: the intervention of Pilate’s wife, who sends word to her husband not to have anything to do with ‘that righteous man’, for she has suffered greatly in a dream because of him. Pilate himself appears unsettled and, seeing that the crowd is growing ever more agitated, performs the symbolic gesture of washing his hands, declaring himself innocent of that man’s blood. The crowd replies: ‘Let his blood be on us and on our children.’ Pilate then releases Barabbas and hands Jesus over to be crucified. At the moment of Jesus’ death, Matthew also recounts that the veil of the temple is torn, but adds extraordinary details: the earth trembles, the rocks split, the tombs open, and many righteous people rise and appear in the holy city after Jesus’ resurrection. Finally, Matthew highlights the authorities’ concern to guard the tomb, fearing that the disciples might steal the body and claim that Jesus has risen; this very message is what they will spread after Easter. The account highlights a great paradox: the blindness of the religious authorities, who persecute Jesus, whilst some pagans, almost unwittingly, bestow upon him the highest titles. Pilate’s wife calls him ‘righteous’, Pilate has ‘King of the Jews’ written on the cross, and even the title ‘Son of God’, initially used to mock him, ultimately becomes a true profession of faith when the Roman centurion exclaims: ‘Truly this man was the Son of God’. This confession already foreshadows the opening of salvation to the pagans and shows that Christ’s death is not a defeat, but a victory. Matthew highlights the contrast between the weakness of the condemned man and his true greatness: it is precisely in his apparent powerlessness that Jesus manifests the greatness of God, who is infinite love. And in this light, we come to understand ever more deeply the significance of Christ’s Passion, which we shall relive visually this week and in particular during the Holy Triduum: Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday, and above all in the outpouring of Easter joy at Christ’s Resurrection.

 

+Giovanni D’Ercole

From religion to Faith, from barren to Beloved one

(Lk 1:26-38)

 

The solemnity of the moment that restores the soul to the Mystery invites a passage wave upon wave: from the Temple religion to domestic and personal Faith.

From outside to inside ourselves. From patterns to innate prophecy. Unique Promise, more subtle condition.

Faith-surrender - that of Mother - which shows the freedom and beauty of the new orientations, in the progress of the inner guiding images.

Alliance no longer for what is already known.

His Pact is all in the Opening to the Inexplicable that lives inside us. 

Intimate Eternal, which can now concretize the hope and the journey of the peoples. A turning point of authenticity, growing.

If the heart’s virgins do not impose demands, the Call by Name (from our own fibers) opens the incapable and sterile breath.

 

Ad coeli Reginam: silent Echo... this invisible core-Vocation is startling. And with spontaneous virtue introduces the spirit into the fruitful synergy of God himself.

Spousal Trust that re-annotate the threads of the history of salvation: and is opposed to the broad road of alliances with people "who matter".

 

In the intertwining between fruitfuling Initiative and welcome into the bosom, the Handmaiden is icon of the expectation and the way of each one - where what remains decisive is not the usual, predictable desire.

Vibrant Appeal that is prolonged through history, in a sort of unfolded and continuous Incarnation, thanks to the collaboration of “distant”, unstable and insignificant servants, like Mary.

 

Ours too, despite us still being filled of normal expectations.

 

 

To internalize and live the message:

 

Which Words open us to life in the Spirit and question the foreseen path?

What is our still intermediate zone, without Encounter?

 

 

How to make the invisible Seed bloom

 

The Tao Tê Ching (Lxi) says: «The great kingdom which held itself below is the confluence of the world; is the female of the world. The female always overcomes the male with the quiet, since she is modestly submissive. For this reason, the great kingdom which places below the small kingdom attracts the small kingdom; the small kingdom that is below the great kingdom attracts the great kingdom: one lowers to attract, the other attracts because below. […] In order for each one to obtain what he craves, it’s better for the great to keep down».

 

God at home, and Visits we would not expect?

Slowing down a little, we are Born.

 

 

[Annunciation of the Lord, March 25]

Mary, the Art of Perception that breaks the mould

(Lk 2:19) (Lk 1:26-38)

 

For a life from the authentic I to the unknown Culmination

 

"Now, Mary kept and treasured all - really all - these event-words, putting them together and comparing them in her heart" [sense of the Greek text].

What about her, her Son and all the others?

She wanted to understand the essential affinities - with the soul and elsewhere: the meaning of strange and simple happenings. Golden rule for us also.

In the portrait of Jesus suckling, his silence did not linger - and he did not allow himself to be demotivated: he dug.

For this she knew far more expressive things than many minds - sublime and yet incapable of breaking out of automatisms, already flooded with remarkable doctrines and traditions.

We are willingly there too, with Mary; in a culture that invades our senses and pollutes our souls with noisy opinions, with seemingly eloquent but knee-jerk models: stressful and futile.

All emphatic, impactful reproductions - but external.

Yet they overflow into the inner self, and despite glittering appearances, lock the personality into a narrow space of unhealthy habits, only to be exhibited.

Indeed, we force ourselves to run from one side to the other, often reciting prototypes. Precisely, forcibly intrigued by plans, organigrams and thoughts, even devout ones, which however become forms of personal and social trivialisation.

We are becoming accustomed to the fear of our discreet, reserved, non-gossipy, secluded, hidden side, all our own and close to the Source: in a word, custodian of the Calling by Name - which wants to pause to return to the ancient Listening of the new.

A side we do not yet know: it never has the same tone as always. It is all ours, but it hints at real encounters.

By refining our inner vision, we grasp our source and the meaning of history; and its folds - thus we can still give birth to the precious world inside and outside of us.

We do this from the intangible, which acts as the pivot of essence. And guards the Fire within.

 

For a stretch - ever so brief - the official pundits delude us that we are at the centre of the world.

They want to inoculate us with the false sense of protagonism and permanence that quickly fades away; in fact, they overwhelm us.

We feel the need for a rediscovery of being and essence, not dissolved in the realm of night and illusion [to have power appear, to hold back ascend dominate]. Without escapes, nor rhythms that do not belong to us.

We seek involvement, and distance.

We want to 'perceive' like Mary and like the shepherds - baffled by the religious opinions of others - to become and be reborn, and to become again. Recovering the frenzies, the surprises, the wounds; without dispersing the centre.

 

"Taking refuge" in a secret space was not for her a rediscovery of the self expected by all, stereotypical and adequate as always.

Rather, he expressed his being - in flight from conventional ways.

In order to live intensely, she did not wish to enter into the nomenclature - then be normal, and enslaved - rather to distance herself, but to be there. So she did not exclude anything.

She also recognised herself in those wanderers.

She would never have imagined herself as the (acting) protagonist of a tradition that placed her on pedestals, forms, solemn attributes, and constraints - the very ones that would have made her sweetly but decisively rebellious.

She did not revisit herself to bask, but rather to verify and reactivate her 'way' - which she did not want to lose: it could be overwhelmed by external opinions and buried by circumstances [impelling but without horizon].

She did not want to lose her address within common, standardised goals, losing sight of what she really was, and introducing her into the heaven of the timeless - nor did she yearn to resemble the majority, or to be above them.

The one we built for her was not her home.

Mary did not face reality and today within us [to help us look at "our" Mystery] with a conformist face; sweetened and artefactual, or intimist, swampy.

 

Her soul was always on the move. To know the unknowable, she would never stop - even without knowing in advance where to go.

Her character did not want the certainties of accommodation. Without wavering, even within herself she preferred to perceive and live the Passion of love.

He let himself be guided and saved, but from his own sacred centre, sanctuary of the God-Con. He who unlocks, sets us on our way, and sets us free.

She could not allow her Vocation to be covered by idols, nor by any plot, which was nevertheless unfolding.

In the 'here and now' he found his affinity from his very being as a wayfarer, who by advancing put hardship behind him.

As she developed her inner eye, she also transmuted her inner self to find the step of the Annunciation hidden in the misfits, which still led her.

Only this lasted her through the years - not the functional side.He did not dream of a quiet life, but of understanding his personal mission.

 

Without naivety, she questioned the meaning of her intimate callings, of the happenings, of the ways, and of her motions - alien only to the anxiety of pleasing everyone.

She wished to understand how best to fit in, moving towards the new promised land [cf. Lk 1:29: "But she was greatly troubled by the Word and wondered what greeting this was"; Lk 1:34: "How shall this be?"].

The stillness within was not uniform, but filled with the vicissitudes and unpredictable 'news'.

Never did she want to be a model: an expired identity card - plastered, dogmatic. Never an icon of privilege, and ostentatious - like a woman who extinguishes her consciousness, and makes herself identified, empty, disjointed.

In the midst of others - even the lazy, indiscreet ones - Maria let herself be, perceiving the inaudible sounds of the silence of the soul.

Notes that produced her figure and - even better - her evolution and Destiny, without disturbing her with separate stubbornness.

Removing the gaze from conformist intention.

 

To really exist, intensely, she changed or broke through; she recovered history but listened to the inside of herself.

Catching her own deep layers, perceiving herself in her most intimate voices, she became aware of the meaning of her life, and of the unfolding story. 

In the intervals of thought, she reactivated the energy of the 'gaze'.

And without mortification, she brought her attention to another dimension, gradually entering the Wind that ceaselessly disengaged her.

In this way, he learnt not to expect something aligned to normal intentions and predictions, nor to social and cultural ranking: he had to enter into the events, and detach himself (to contemplate their importance and depth).

Mysteriously - thus peering without doing too much - he read the 'notes', chose the right registers; he interpreted the score.

Epiphany of God in a creature completely devoid of hieratic or courtly style; rather, delicate and gypsy.

She did not rush to put things in place: she sensed 'inside' the summary life, rather than leading it and organising it, or arranging it.

He waited for his eminent Self to lead the strange, non-directed, non-voluntarist path that was unfolding, truly all eccentric and unexemplary.

 

She did not act to please.

We also learn in her: to see the domestic God happen, the 'visits' we would not expect; the intensity of different colours.

They then lead us to a different look into the soul as well; involved and detached.

Like the surrounding reality, Mary was not always the same.

She did not have in mind a champion to chase to the end, only to find herself chronicled in the exemplarity of others - uprooted, external, dissipated and unloaded.

Situations and emotions had value, not only and not primarily on the basis of the paradigm register - now useless - with which they were interpreted.

In the hope of things present and in their sensitive Listening, she was acquiring fluidity.

In this way, she passed unforced from the religion of the fathers to the Faith, to the risk of friendship in the unpredictable proposal of the one Father.

Retreating into the Abode of the Spirit, within a Hope that unveiled itself wave by wave, she learned to understand relationships and inner energies, unpacked.

Once listened to and assumed, they could deviate, and take precisely the unexpected path.

 

Step by step, the attentive eye, ear and heart also introduce us - like Mary - into a territory of suspension of closed intentions. Where the love and destiny of the Newness of God dwells.

He expanded the Vision not just from around.

Unfolding her lost self in the We, not selective, but only from her own sacred centre, the horizon also dilated in the sensation of infinity in action.

In contemplating events, she would flesh out and even reinvent the figure of the heart that had guided her there.

She still reinterpreted the expressive image of her Vocation. And it changed its destiny - not giving weight to one-sided angles.

No obligations and chiselled intentions - against the tide but natural, without the laceration of titanic efforts.

Thus even the hardships brought her closer to her Mission as Mother of the new humanity, in her Son.

 

And each one equally rediscovered the energy of the primordial suggestion that led him or her, so that in Meditation he or she might once again embrace the Calling that still wants to snatch him or her from the mire.

Echo of the Primal Call that is woven into the events and is already the Destination.

Witnessing every moment to be rediscovered in the "intimate and full void" to be made within, to wait for something we do not know what it is first.

Mary let herself be traced in time by unpatented Love.

Such are the Dreams of creatures totally immersed in the true passions, which grasp, anticipate and actualise the timelessness in time.He did not give up wondering what - with its many aspects - was inhabiting it and silently guiding it.

 

We still imagine it (v.19) 'as with eyes closed': a situation our culture often ignores.

She did not think of efficient causes: it was to rediscover otherwise her opening the door to visitors, and to each new thing to be astonished.

She was already nursing, not only her Son; at the same time she was feeding herself.

Not out of vain intimism did he rediscover the subtle Mystery nested in the different - and raw - unpredictable within and without.

Without realising it, it was already feeding the world, guarding itself.

Truly, she comes to us and in us, tending the nest of essence and history... without any semblance of banners and display cases - respecting only what happens.

Similarly, her entire Family becomes the true fruitful lady of an impossible Feast of the Announcement around - which one does not understand where it came from (Lk 1:20).

Certainly from nothing outside. Therefore decisive.

Totally adherent to circumstances and present in himself, he became completely - in the clear and spontaneous motions, even of others.

 

Certainly he had no people around him who could boast of screens. Just strange individuals, but who ceaselessly let their vital instincts emerge.

They too did not tell each other beforehand where to go. That is why they found themselves in an incessant pregnancy.

All they had in store was the experience of distance; often frost and rejection. 

They never knew a figure who helped them to recognise themselves completely, and to look at things from the point of view of the timelessly discovered gentleness.

Even capable of tending to the wider and more inclusive global [we would say, to the servant eternity of the angelic condition].

Instead, they were set ablaze by the everlasting Flame - that of the whole world (past, present and future) that knows how to recover and stay hidden, apart but in the cosmos - as the dawn and day of the Lord.

In the culture of the time, the condition of the spirits of the heavenly throne service, who glorified and praised God (v.20) "for all that they had heard and seen".

 

Faced with the domestic Church Family, in Mary and Jesus the shepherds have a decisive experience.

No longer of one-sided lack and judgement, but of rebirth in esteem; of another world, available and inclusive - of another realm, unison without uniformity.

The Mother of God is a possibility of tending to the eternal present, no longer exclusive: but like a dance, where the changing whole puts one perfectly at ease - with no tracks to follow already.

Society's oddballs, pilgrims and prairie dogs in hiding, skilled only in transhumance, had perhaps never had the ability to recognise the ecstasy of being well and intensely in the summation.

Perhaps they had never had the experience of recognising in an accurate creature their own sensitive, tender and feminine side.

Appearance that in the authentic Woman Church becomes the guardian and differently announcer [in the shaky] of the treasure chest of Life.

From the warmth of Mary and the Cradle, amidst their labyrinths, they now brought to their own secluded place a thrilling blessing, and the indestructible intimate side; even elsewhere.

To question ourselves as well.

 

We seek a silent soul, for an art of rebirth.

Here was Maria: she had noticed, as she meditated, that others reflexively did too.

When she carved out preparatory energies, she also arranged herself in a more balanced, fuller way for the Announcement.

He walked through life to guard and nurture new fathers and mothers of humanisation. 

Not to comment, but to intuit and dissolve; not to extinguish the dreamy side with the 'up to the mark', old.

Her realm of truthfulness that heals the I and the Thou was the heaven and earth of new powers.

Reliable virtues because they sprang from the Silence of the Way that was completely renewing her - loving contradictions. 

Because everything can now happen, regenerate; and each day bring its tide (of the unprecedented) in the presence of Spirit, without routine.

A genuine soul, devoid of pretense, can do that.

For an adventure that pushes away continuity, filled with foundational Eros; for a direct exploration to the unknown Culmination.

 

 

Mary: Slowing down a little, one is born

 

Those who do not follow innate intuitions, a call more radical than the self, or stunning proclamations [Lk 1:26-38. 2:8-15] do not develop their destiny, do not move; they do not set things right.

Common proclamations end up incinerating personalities.

It is true that the shepherds find nothing extraordinary or prodigious but a family reduced to an ordinary condition, which they know.

But it is that simple hearth that draws them into the new Project, and into the proclamation of its scandalous unconditional Mercy - which did not electrocute them for impurity.

Archaic religion had branded them forever: lost, despicable beings, without remedy. Now they are free from identification.They have another eye - like that of the first time. A look that will bring them one hundred per cent.

Exodus facing a defenceless image of God, they do not bother to engage in ethical discipline: it would have crumbled them.

Rather, they enjoy the wonder of a simply human reality - in a mysterious relationship of mutual recognition.

 

A baby in a manger, an unclean place where the beasts used to play.

It is strange that the modest sign convinces them, makes them regain esteem, and makes them evangelisers - perhaps not even assiduous evangelisers.

Like Calvary (to which it refers), the resolving Manifestation of the Eternal is a paradox.

But the affective geography of this Bethlehem devoid of conformist circuits remains intact, because it is spontaneously rooted in us.

There is a sense of immediacy, without any particular entanglement or ceremony.

The Child is not even worshipped by the now 'pure' gazes of the little, vilified prairie dogs and transhumance dogs - as, conversely, the Magi will do (Mt 2:11).

They did not even know what it meant, reflecting Eastern court ceremonials - like the kissing of red slippers.

[This is why Pope Francis rejected them, along with the ermine - after Paul VI had had the courage to lay down the pluridirigist sign of tiaras, with its three overlapping crowns; a little more intricate was the affair of the anachronistic gestatorial chair].

The wretched of the earth and the distant of the flocks are those who hear the Announcement, readily verify it, and found the new divine lineage.

People untroubled by static judgement - men in the midst of all; no longer at high altitude.

 

Meanwhile, Mary sought the meaning of surprises and thus regenerated, for a new way of understanding and 'being' together - to give birth also to the inner world of a whole different people of fullness.

She would put facts and Word together, to discover the common thread.

And to remain receptive; not to be swayed by the convictions of the devotional enclosures - targetted and inflexible, which would have given her no escape.

The Mother herself, though taken by surprise, prepared herself for God's eccentricity, without departing from time and her real condition.

 

Her figure and that of the shepherds question us, demand the courage of an answer - but after letting the same kind of inner Presences flow: worthy visitors, who are allowed to express themselves.

 

Like us, she too had to move from the beliefs of the fathers to Faith in the Father.

From the idea of love as reward to that of 'gift'.

From the practice of cults and closures that do not make one intimate with the Eternal at all, to the opening of the mind and the exits.

She did not achieve this without effort, but rather by enduring the resistance of her arid environment.

Jesus was indeed circumcised - a useless rite that according to custom claimed to change the Son of God into the son of Abraham.

 

The Good News proclaims a reversal: what religion had considered far from the Most High is very close to Him; indeed, it corresponds fully to Him.

Never before imagined.

In the Annunciations of the Gospels, the adventure of Faith is opened wide.

And the new Babe has a Name that expresses the unprecedented essence of Saviour, not executioner.

His whole story will also be fully instructive from the point of view of how to internalise uncertainties and discomforts: these 'no moments' and precariousness that teach us how to live.

Indeed, we too, like Mary, 'recognise' the presence of God in the enigmas of Scripture, in the Little One 'wrapped in bandages' - even in the ancestral echo of our inner worlds.

And we let ourselves go - we don't really know where. But so is the Infinite, the immense Secret, the inexplicable Breath, in its folds.

 

The wise Dream that inhabits the human knows of ancient humus, but its echo is reborn every day, in the tide of being that directs one to truly 'look', without veils.

A conformist demeanour of 'seeing things' would not solve the problem.

Sometimes, in order not to be conditioned, we need to rebuild ourselves in silence, like the Virgin; to build a kind of hermeneutic island that opens different doors, that introduces other lights.

Within her sacred circuit, the Mother of God also valorised the innate transformative energies, precisely by rooting them in the questions...

Thus returning to her primordial being and the sense of the Newborn - an image steeped in primordial sense and life-wave, dear to many cultures.

 

Mary entered an Elsewhere and did not leave the field of the real.

She was 'inside' her Centre, unhurried - searching for the Sun drowned in her being and which returned, emerged, resurrected; from within, it made her exist beyond.

Thus he did not allow himself to be absorbed by the conformist ideas of others or by [external] situations that wanted to break the balance.

In her veracious solitude - filled with Grace - that superior and hidden self in essence came more and more to Her. He made himself a new Dawn and guide.She did not want to live inside thoughts, knowledge and reasoning around - none capable of amplifying life - all in the hands of the drugs of procedures, dehumanising the Enchantment.

The happy magic of that Frugolo of flesh brought her Peace.

Dreams sustained and conveyed her nest and inner core - causing new life to flow from the core of her Person, and the youth of the world.

 

"Now Mary kept all Word-events by comparing them in her heart".

From generation to generation, the wonder evoked by this ineffable mystery never ceases. St Augustine imagines a dialogue between himself and the Angel of the Annunciation, in which he asks:  "Tell me, O Angel, why did this happen in Mary?". The answer, says the Messenger, is contained in the very words of the greeting:  "Hail, full of grace" (cf. Sermo 291: 6).

In fact, the Angel, "appearing to her", does not call her by her earthly name, Mary, but by her divine name, as she has always been seen and characterized by God:  "Full of grace - gratia plena", which in the original Greek is 6,P"D4JTµXv0,  "full of grace", and the grace is none other than the love of God; thus, in the end, we can translate this word:  "beloved" of God (cf. Lk 1: 28). Origen observes that no such title had ever been given to a human being, and that it is unparalleled in all of Sacred Scripture (cf. In Lucam 6: 7).

It is a title expressed in passive form, but this "passivity" of Mary, who has always been and is for ever "loved" by the Lord, implies her free consent, her personal and original response:  in being loved, in receiving the gift of God, Mary is fully active, because she accepts with personal generosity the wave of God's love poured out upon her. In this too, she is the perfect disciple of her Son, who realizes the fullness of his freedom and thus exercises the freedom through obedience to the Father.

In the Second Reading, we heard the wonderful passage in which the author of the Letter to the Hebrews interprets Psalm 39 in the light of Christ's Incarnation:  "When Christ came into the world, he said:  ..."Here I am, I have come to do your will, O God'" (Heb 10: 5-7). Before the mystery of these two "Here I am" statements, the "Here I am" of the Son and the "Here I am" of the Mother, each of which is reflected in the other, forming a single Amen to God's loving will, we are filled with wonder and thanksgiving, and we bow down in adoration.

What a great gift, dear Brothers, to be able to conduct this evocative celebration on the Solemnity of the Lord's Annunciation! What an abundance of light we can draw from this mystery for our lives as ministers of the Church!

You above all, dear new Cardinals, what great sustenance you can receive for your mission as the eminent "Senate" of Peter's Successor! This providential circumstance helps us to consider today's event, which emphasizes the Petrine principle of the Church, in the light of the other principle, the Marian one, which is even more fundamental. The importance of the Marian principle in the Church was particularly highlighted, after the Council, by my beloved Predecessor Pope John Paul II in harmony with his motto Totus tuus.

In his spirituality and in his tireless ministry, the presence of Mary as Mother and Queen of the Church was made manifest to the eyes of all. More than ever he adverted to her maternal presence in the assassination attempt of 13 May 1981 here in St Peter's Square. In memory of that tragic event, he had a mosaic of the Virgin placed high up in the Apostolic Palace looking down over St Peter's Square, so as to accompany the key moments and the daily unfolding of his long reign. It is just one year since his Pontificate entered its final phase, full of suffering and yet triumphant and truly paschal.

The icon of the Annunciation, more than any other, helps us to see clearly how everything in the Church goes back to that mystery of Mary's acceptance of the divine Word, by which, through the action of the Holy Spirit, the Covenant between God and humanity was perfectly sealed. Everything in the Church, every institution and ministry, including that of Peter and his Successors, is "included" under the Virgin's mantle, within the grace-filled horizon of her "yes" to God's will. This link with Mary naturally evokes a strong affective resonance in all of us, but first of all it has an objective value.

Between Mary and the Church there is indeed a connatural relationship that was strongly emphasized by the Second Vatican Council in its felicitous decision to place the treatment of the Blessed Virgin at the conclusion of the Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium.

The theme of the relationship between the Petrine principle and the Marian principle is also found in the symbol of the ring which I am about to consign to you. The ring is always a nuptial sign. Almost all of you have already received one, on the day of your episcopal ordination, as an expression of your fidelity and your commitment to watch over the holy Church, the bride of Christ (cf. Rite of Ordination of Bishops).

The ring which I confer upon you today, proper to the cardinalatial dignity, is intended to confirm and strengthen that commitment, arising once more from a nuptial gift, a reminder to you that first and foremost you are intimately united with Christ so as to accomplish your mission as bridegrooms of the Church. May your acceptance of the ring be for you a renewal of your "yes", your "here I am", addressed both to the Lord Jesus who chose you and constituted you, and to his holy Church, which you are called to serve with the love of a spouse.

So the two dimensions of the Church, Marian and Petrine, come together in the supreme value of charity, which constitutes the fulfilment of each. As St Paul says, charity is the "greatest" charism, the "most excellent way" (I Cor 12: 31; 13: 13).

Everything in this world will pass away. In eternity only Love will remain. For this reason, my Brothers, taking the opportunity offered by this favourable time of Lent, let us commit ourselves to ensure that everything in our personal lives and in the ecclesial activity in which we are engaged is inspired by charity and leads to charity. In this respect too, we are enlightened by the mystery that we are celebrating today.

Indeed, the first thing that Mary did after receiving the Angel's message was to go "in haste" to the house of her cousin Elizabeth in order to be of service to her (cf. Lk 1: 39). The Virgin's initiative was one of genuine charity; it was humble and courageous, motivated by faith in God's Word and the inner promptings of the Holy Spirit. Those who love forget about themselves and place themselves at the service of their neighbour. Here we have the image and model of the Church!

Every Ecclesial Community, like the Mother of Christ, is called to accept with total generosity the mystery of God who comes to dwell within her and guides her steps in the ways of love. This is the path along which I chose to launch my Pontificate, inviting everyone, with my first Encyclical, to build up the Church in charity as a "community of love" (cf. Deus Caritas Est, Part II).

In pursuing this objective, venerable Brother Cardinals, your spiritual closeness and active assistance is a great support and comfort to me. For this I thank you, and at the same time I invite all of you, priests, deacons, Religious and lay faithful, to join together in invoking the Holy Spirit, praying that the College of Cardinals may be ever more ardent in pastoral charity, so as to help the whole Church to radiate Christ's love in the world, to the praise and glory of the Most Holy Trinity. Amen!

[Pope Benedict, homily with the new cardinals 25 March 2006]

“Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done unto me according to your word” (Angelus Prayer).

Your Beatitude,
Brother Bishops,
Father Custos,
Dear Brothers and Sisters,

1. 25th March in the year 2000, the Solemnity of the Annunciation in the Year of the Great Jubilee: on this day the eyes of the whole Church turn to Nazareth. I have longed to come back to the town of Jesus, to feel once again, in contact with this place, the presence of the woman of whom Saint Augustine wrote: “He chose the mother he had created; he created the mother he had chosen” (Sermo 69, 3, 4). Here it is especially easy to understand why all generations call Mary blessed (cf. Lk 2:48).

I warmly greet Your Beatitude Patriarch Michel Sabbah, and thank you for your kind words of presentation. With Archbishop Boutros Mouallem and all of you – Bishops, priests, religious women and men, and members of the laity – I rejoice in the grace of this solemn celebration. I am happy to have this opportunity to greet the Franciscan Minister General, Father Giacomo Bini, who welcomed me on my arrival, and to express to the Custos, Father Giovanni Battistelli, and the Friars of the Custody the admiration of the whole Church for the devotion with which you carry out your unique vocation. With gratitude I pay tribute to your faithfulness to the charge given to you by Saint Francis himself and confirmed by the Popes down the centuries.

2. We are gathered to celebrate the great mystery accomplished here two thousand years ago. The Evangelist Luke situates the event clearly in time and place: “In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph. . . The virgin’s name was Mary” (1:26-27). But in order to understand what took place in Nazareth two thousand years ago, we must return to the Reading from the Letter to the Hebrews. That text enables us, as it were, to listen to a conversation between the Father and the Son concerning God’s purpose from all eternity. “You who wanted no sacrifice or oblation prepared a body for me. You took no pleasure in holocausts or sacrifices for sin. Then I said. . . ?God, here I am! I am coming to obey your will’” (10:5-7). The Letter to the Hebrews is telling us that, in obedience to the Father’s will, the Eternal Word comes among us to offer the sacrifice which surpasses all the sacrifices offered under the former Covenant. His is the eternal and perfect sacrifice which redeems the world. 

The divine plan is gradually revealed in the Old Testament, particularly in the words of the Prophet Isaiah which we have just heard: “The Lord himself will give you a sign. It is this: the virgin is with child and will soon give birth to a child whom she will call Emmanuel” (7:14). Emmanuel - God with us. In these words, the unique event that was to take place in Nazareth in the fullness of time is foretold, and it is this event that we are celebrating here with intense joy and happiness. 

3. Our Jubilee Pilgrimage has been a journey in spirit, which began in the footsteps of Abraham, “our father in faith” (Roman Canon; cf. Rom 4:11-12). That journey has brought us today to Nazareth, where we meet Mary, the truest daughter of Abraham. It is Mary above all others who can teach us what it means to live the faith of “our father”. In many ways, Mary is clearly different from Abraham; but in deeper ways “the friend of God” (cf. Is 41:8) and the young woman of Nazareth are very alike. 

Both receive a wonderful promise from God. Abraham was to be the father of a son, from whom there would come a great nation. Mary is to be the Mother of a Son who would be the Messiah, the Anointed One. “Listen!”, Gabriel says, “ You are to conceive and bear a son. . . The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. . . and his reign will have no end” (Lk 1:31-33). 

For both Abraham and Mary, the divine promise comes as something completely unexpected. God disrupts the daily course of their lives, overturning its settled rhythms and conventional expectations. For both Abraham and Mary, the promise seems impossible. Abraham’s wife Sarah was barren, and Mary is not yet married: “How can this come about”, she asks, “since I am a virgin?” (Lk 1:34). 

4. Like Abraham, Mary is asked to say yes to something that has never happened before. Sarah is the first in the line of barren wives in the Bible who conceive by God’s power, just as Elizabeth will be the last. Gabriel speaks of Elizabeth to reassure Mary: “Know this too: your kinswoman Elizabeth has, in her old age, herself conceived a son” (Lk 1:36). 

Like Abraham, Mary must walk through darkness, in which she must simply trust the One who called her. Yet even her question, “How can this come about?”, suggests that Mary is ready to say yes, despite her fears and uncertainties. Mary asks not whether the promise is possible, but only how it will be fulfilled. It comes as no surprise, therefore, when finally she utters her fiat: “I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let what you have said be done to me” (Lk 1:38). With these words, Mary shows herself the true daughter of Abraham, and she becomes the Mother of Christ and Mother of all believers. 

5. In order to penetrate further into the mystery, let us look back to the moment of Abraham’s journey when he received the promise. It was when he welcomed to his home three mysterious guests (cf. Gen18:1-15), and offered them the adoration due to God: tres vidit et unum adoravit. That mysterious encounter foreshadows the Annunciation, when Mary is powerfully drawn into communion with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Through the fiat that Mary uttered in Nazareth, the Incarnation became the wondrous fulfilment of Abraham’s encounter with God. So, following in the footsteps of Abraham, we have come to Nazareth to sing the praises of the woman “through whom the light rose over the earth” (Hymn Ave Regina Caelorum). 

6. But we have also come to plead with her. What do we, pilgrims on our way into the Third Christian Millennium, ask of the Mother of God? Here in the town which Pope Paul VI, when he visited Nazareth, called “the school of the Gospel”, where “we learn to look at and to listen to, to ponder and to penetrate the deep and mysterious meaning of the very simple, very humble and very beautiful appearing of the Son of God” (Address in Nazareth, 5 January 1964), I pray, first, for a great renewal of faith in all the children of the Church. A deep renewal of faith: not just as a general attitude of life, but as a conscious and courageous profession of the Creed: “Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine, et homo factus est.”

In Nazareth, where Jesus “grew in wisdom and age and grace before God and men” (Lk 2:52), I ask the Holy Family to inspire all Christians to defend the family against so many present-day threats to its nature, its stability and its mission. To the Holy Family I entrust the efforts of Christians and of all people of good will to defend life and to promote respect for the dignity of every human being.

To Mary, the Theotókos, the great Mother of God, I consecrate the families of the Holy Land, the families of the world. 

In Nazareth where Jesus began his public ministry, I ask Mary to help the Church everywhere to preach the “good news” to the poor, as he did (cf. Lk 4:18). In this “year of the Lord’s favour”, I ask her to teach us the way of humble and joyful obedience to the Gospel in the service of our brothers and sisters, without preferences and without prejudices.

“O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me. Amen” (Memorare).

[Pope John Paul II, homily Basilica of the Annunciation 25 March 2000]

Salvation "cannot be bought or sold" because "it is a totally free gift". But to receive it God asks us to have "a humble, docile, obedient heart". Pope Francis said this in the Mass celebrated on Tuesday morning 25 March in the chapel of the Casa Santa Marta, inviting "to celebrate and give thanks to God" because "today we commemorate a definitive stage in the journey" towards salvation "that man has made since the day he came out of paradise".

It is precisely "for this reason that today we celebrate: the celebration of this journey from a mother to another mother, from a father to another father", the Pontiff explained. And he invited us to contemplate "the icon of Eve and Adam, the icon of Mary and Jesus", and to look at the course of history with God who always walks with his people. Thus, he continued, "today we can embrace the Father who, thanks to the blood of his Son, became one of us, and saves us: this Father who awaits us every day". Hence the invitation to say "thank you: thank you, Lord, because today you say to us that you have given us salvation".

In his reflection, the Pontiff started from the mandate given to Adam and Eve: the commitment to work and dominate the earth, and to be fruitful. 'It is the promise of redemption,' he explained, 'and with this commandment, with this promise, they began to walk, to make a way'. A "long road", made up of "many centuries", but which began "with disobedience". Adam and Eve in fact "were deceived, they were seduced. They have been seduced by Satan: you will be like God!". Pride and pride" prevailed in them, so much so that "they fell into the temptation: to take the place of God, with pride enough". It is precisely "that attitude that only Satan has totally in him".

Adam and Eve "made a people". And "they did not make this journey alone: the Lord was with them", who accompanied humanity along an itinerary "that began with disobedience and ended with obedience". To explain this, Pope Francis recalled, "the Second Vatican Council takes a beautiful phrase from St Irenaeus of Lyons that says: the knot that Eve made with her disobedience Mary untied with her obedience". Moreover, he added, the Church also explains this path with a prayer that reads: "Lord, you who wonderfully created humanity and restored it, restored it more wonderfully...". It is therefore "a path where the wonders of God are multiplied, they are more!".

God therefore always remains "with his people on their journey: he sends prophets and he sends people to explain the law". But "why," the Pontiff wondered, "did the Lord walk with his people with such tenderness? To soften our hearts' is the answer. And indeed Scripture explicitly reminds us of this: I will make your heart of stone a heart of flesh.

In essence, the Lord wants to "soften our hearts" so that they can receive "that promise that he had made in paradise: for one man sin entered, for another man salvation comes". And it is precisely this 'long journey' that has helped 'all of us to have a more human heart, closer to God; not so proud, not so sufficient'.

"Today," the Pope explained, "the liturgy speaks to us of this journey of restoration, of this stage in the journey of restoration. And it speaks to us of obedience, of docility to the word of God'. A thought, the Pontiff pointed out, that "is very clear" in the second reading, taken from the letter to the Hebrews (10:4-10): "Brothers, it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to eliminate sins".

Hence the statement that "salvation is not bought, it is not sold. It is given, it is free'. And since 'we cannot save ourselves from ourselves, salvation is a gift, totally free. As St Paul writes, it cannot be bought with 'the blood of bulls and goats'. And if 'it cannot be bought', to 'enter into us this salvation demands a humble heart, a docile heart, an obedient heart, like that of Mary'. Thus "the model of this path of salvation is God himself, his Son, who did not esteem it an irrenounceable good to be equal to God - Paul says so - but annihilated himself and obeyed even unto death and death on a cross".

What then does 'the path of humility, of humiliation' mean? It simply means, Pope Francis concluded, 'to say: I am man, I am woman, and you are God! And to go before, in the presence of God, as a man, as a woman in obedience and docility of heart".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 26/03/2014]

5th Lent Sunday (year A)  [22 March 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! This Sunday touches upon the theme of death and of life that does not die. In the face of such fear of dying, may this word of salvation kindle within us the invincible hope of living eternally in God, who is Love

 

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel (37:12–14)

This text is very brief, but it is clear that it forms a single unit: it is framed by two similar expressions; at the beginning, ‘Thus says the Lord God’, and at the end, ‘The word of the Lord’. A frame that is evidently intended to give solemnity to what it encloses. Whenever a prophet deems it necessary to specify that he is speaking on behalf of the Lord, it is because his message is particularly important and difficult to hear. Today’s message is therefore what lies within this framework: a promise repeated twice and addressed to God’s people, for God says “O my people”; on both occasions the promise concerns two points: firstly, “I will open your graves”; secondly, “I will bring you back to the land of Israel”, or “I will let you rest in your own land”, which amounts to the same thing. These expressions allow us to situate the historical context: the people are in exile in Babylon, at the mercy of the Babylonians, annihilated (in the true sense of the word, reduced to nothing), as if dead; this is why God speaks of graves. The expression ‘I will open your graves’ therefore means that God will raise up his people. Reading chapter 37 of the Book of Ezekiel, we see that this brief text follows a vision of the prophet known as ‘the vision of the dry bones’ and provides an explanation of it: the prophet sees a vast army of the dead, lying in the dust; and God says to him: your brothers are so desperate in their exile that they believe themselves to be dead, finished… well, I, God, will raise them up. This entire vision and its explanation thus evoke the captivity of the exiled people and their restoration by God. For the prophet Ezekiel, it is a certainty: the people cannot be wiped out, because God has promised them an eternal Covenant that nothing can destroy; therefore, whatever the defeats, the ruptures, the trials, it is known that the people will survive and regain their land, because this is part of the promise. “I will open your graves… O my people, and bring you back to the land of Israel”: ultimately, there is nothing surprising about these words; Israel has always known that its God is faithful; and the expression “You shall know that I am the Lord” precisely means that it is through his faithfulness to his promises that the true God is recognised. But why repeat almost the same things twice? In reality, the second promise does not merely repeat the first, but expands upon it:  It continues: I will open your graves and bring you out of your tombs and let you rest in your own land, and you shall know that I am the Lord: all this  is a return to the situation prior to the disaster of the Babylonian exile. In this second promise there is much more, something new and never seen before: “I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live”; here the New Covenant is announced: from now on the law of love will no longer be written on tablets of stone, but in hearts. Or, to use another expression of Ezekiel, human hearts will no longer be of stone, but of flesh.

Here there is no room for doubt: the repetition of the phrase “my people” clearly shows that these two promises herald a rebirth, a restoration of the people. This is not a matter of individual resurrection. Individual death did not compromise the future of the people; and for a long time it was the future of the people, and that alone, that mattered. When someone died, it was said that they had fallen asleep with their fathers, without imagining any personal survival; on the contrary, the survival of the people has always been a certainty, because the people are the bearers of God’s promises. To believe in individual resurrection, two elements are required: firstly, an interest in the individual’s fate — something that did not exist at the beginning of biblical history; an interest in one’s personal fate is a later development. Secondly, it is essential to believe in a God who does not abandon you to death. The certainty that God never abandons humanity did not arise suddenly; it developed in step with the concrete events of the history of the chosen people. The historical experience of the Covenant is what nourishes the faith of Israel; it is the experience of a God who frees humanity from all forms of bondage and intervenes ceaselessly to liberate them; a faithful God who never goes back on his word. It is this faith that guides all of Israel’s discoveries; indeed, it is their driving force. Four centuries after Ezekiel, around 165 BC, these two combined elements—faith in a God who continually liberates humanity and the discovery of the value of every human person—led to faith in individual resurrection. It became evident that God would liberate the individual from the most terrible and definitive form of slavery, that of death. This discovery came so late to the Jewish people that, in Christ’s time, it was not yet shared by all: the Sadducees, in fact, were known as those who did not believe in the resurrection. Perhaps, however, Ezekiel’s prophecy might have surpassed his own understanding, without him realising it. The Spirit of God spoke through his mouth, and we might think: Ezekiel did not know how great was what he was proclaiming

 

*Responsorial Psalm (129/130) 

In the Psalter there is a group of fifteen psalms bearing a particular name: Song of Ascents. Each of them begins with the words ‘Song of Ascents’, which in Hebrew signifies going to Jerusalem on pilgrimage. In the Gospels, moreover, the expression ‘going up to Jerusalem’ occurs several times with the same meaning: it evokes the pilgrimage for the three annual feasts and, in particular, the most important of these, the Feast of Tabernacles. These fifteen psalms therefore accompanied the entire pilgrimage. Even before arriving in Jerusalem, they already foreshadowed the unfolding of the festival. For some, one can even guess at which point in the pilgrimage they were sung; for example, Psalm 121/122 – ‘How joyful I was when they said to me: “We shall go to the house of the Lord”… now our feet stand within your gates, Jerusalem…’ – was probably the psalm of arrival. Psalm 129/130 is one of these Songs of Ascent; it was probably sung during the Feast of Tabernacles as part of a penitential celebration, which is why guilt and forgiveness feature so prominently in the psalm: ‘If you keep track of sins, O Lord, O Lord, who can stand before you?’.  The sinner who pleads here is certain of being forgiven; it is the people who together acknowledge God’s infinite goodness, his tireless faithfulness (his Hesed) and man’s radical inability to respond to the Covenant. These repeated acts of unfaithfulness are experienced as a true spiritual death: “From the depths I cry out to you”, a cry addressed to Him whose very being is Forgiveness: this is the meaning of the expression “with you is forgiveness”. God is Love and is Gift, and the two are one and the same. Now “forgiveness” is nothing other than a gift that goes beyond everything. To forgive means to continue to offer a Covenant, a possible future, beyond the other’s infidelities. Let us recall the story of David: after the killing of Bathsheba’s husband, the prophet Nathan announced God’s forgiveness to him even before David had uttered a single word of repentance or confession. The idea that God always forgives, however, does not please everyone; yet it is undoubtedly one of the central teachings of the Bible, right from the Old Testament. And Jesus forcefully takes up this same teaching: for example, in the parable of the Prodigal Son in the Gospel according to Luke (chapter 15), the father is already out on the road waiting for his son (a sign that he has already forgiven him) and opens his arms to him even before the son has opened his mouth. And the example of God’s totally gratuitous forgiveness was given to us by Jesus himself on the cross: those who were killing him did not utter a single word of repentance, yet he says: ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’. It is precisely in his forgiveness, says the Bible, that God manifests his power. This too is a great discovery of Israel; consider what the Book of Wisdom states: “Your strength, Lord, is the source of justice… you who possess strength, judge with gentleness and rule us with great indulgence” (Wis 12:16, 18). The certainty of God’s mercy does not breed presumption or indifference towards sin, but humble and amazed gratitude: “With you is forgiveness, so that we may fear you.” This concise formula indicates the believer’s attitude before God, who is nothing but gift and forgiveness. This certainty of forgiveness, always offered beyond all fault, inspires in Israel an attitude of extraordinary hope. Repentant Israel awaits forgiveness “more than the watchmen await the dawn”. “He will redeem Israel from all its sins”: similar expressions recur frequently in biblical texts. They announce to Israel the definitive liberation, the liberation from all the sins of all time. Israel awaits even more: precisely because the people of the Covenant experience their own weakness and ever-recurring sin, but also God’s faithfulness, they await from God himself the definitive fulfilment of his promises. Beyond immediate forgiveness, what they await from age to age is the definitive dawn, which they hope for against all hope, like Abraham: the dawn of the Day of God. All the psalms are permeated by this messianic expectation. Christians know with even greater certainty that our world is moving towards its fulfilment: a fulfilment that has a name, Jesus Christ: “Our soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the dawn”.

 

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (8:8–11)

“I will put my Spirit within you, and you shall live,” announces Ezekiel in the first reading, but from baptism, Saint Paul reminds us here, this is a reality, and he uses a figurative expression: the Spirit of God dwells within you. Taking this literally, one commentator speaks of a change of ownership. We have become the dwelling place of the Spirit: it is he who is now in charge. It would be interesting to ask ourselves, in all areas of our lives, both personal and communal, who is in charge, who is the master of the house within us; or, if we prefer, what is our purpose in life. According to Paul, there are not many alternatives: either we are under the influence of the Spirit, that is, we allow ourselves to be guided by him, or we do not allow ourselves to be inspired by the Spirit, and this he calls being under the influence of the flesh. Being under the influence of the Spirit is easy to understand: simply replace the word ‘Spirit’ with the word ‘Love’, as the Letter to the Galatians demonstrates when explaining the fruits of the Spirit: ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control’ (Gal 5:22–23); in a word, love expressed in all the concrete circumstances of our lives. Paul is the heir to the entire tradition of the prophets: and they all affirm that our relationship with God is realised in the quality of our relationship with others; in the ‘Songs of the Servant’, the Book of Isaiah (chapters 42; 49; 50; 52–53) forcefully asserts that living according to the Spirit of God means loving and serving one’s brothers and sisters. Once life according to the Spirit—that is, life according to love—has been defined, it is easy to understand what Paul means by life according to the flesh: it is the opposite, namely indifference or hatred; in other words, love is turning away from oneself, whilst life under the influence of the flesh is centring on oneself. The question: ‘Who is in charge?’ here becomes ‘Who is the centre of our world?’ And those who are under the influence of the flesh cannot please God, says Paul. On the contrary, Christ is the beloved Son in whom God is well pleased, that is, he is in perfect harmony with God precisely because he too is all love. In this sense, the account of the Temptations, read on the first Sunday of Lent (Matthew chapter 4), is very eloquent because Jesus appears totally centred on God and on his Word and resolutely refuses to focus on his own hunger or even on the demands of his messianic mission. If the text of the temptations is presented to us every year at the start of Lent, it is because Lent is precisely a journey of shifting our focus away from ourselves in order to refocus on God and on others. Later on, in the same Letter to the Romans, Paul says that the Spirit of God makes us children: it is he who prompts us to call God ‘Father’. That which is love within us comes from God; it is our inheritance as children. The Spirit is your life, Paul says again: to put it another way, love is your life. After all, we know from experience that only love is creative. What is not love does not come from God and, precisely because it does not come from God, is destined for death. The great good news of this text is that everything within us that is love comes from God and therefore cannot die. As Paul says: ‘If God raised Jesus from the dead… he will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you’.

 

From the Gospel according to John (11:1–45)

We have got into the habit of calling this passage the resurrection of Lazarus, but, to tell the truth, it is not the most appropriate term; when we proclaim ‘I believe in the resurrection of the dead and in eternal life’, we mean something quite different. Lazarus’s death was, in a sense, merely a parenthesis in his earthly life; after Jesus’ miracle, his life resumed its ordinary course and was, more or less, the same as before. Lazarus simply had his earthly life extended. His body was not transformed and he had to die a second time; his first death was not what it will be for us, that is, the passage to true life. So one might ask: to what end? In performing this miracle, Jesus took great risks, for he had already drawn far too much attention to himself… and for Lazarus, it was merely a matter of postponing the final appointment. It is St John who answers our question: ‘what was the purpose of this miracle?’ He tells us that it is a very important sign: Jesus reveals himself as the one in whom we have eternal life and in whom we can believe, that is, upon whom we can stake our lives. After all, the chief priests and the Pharisees were not mistaken: they fully understood the gravity of the sign performed by Jesus, for the Gospel of John tells us that many, many began to believe in him precisely because of Lazarus’s resurrection, and it was then that they decided to put him to death. This miracle thus sealed Jesus’ death sentence; thinking about it two thousand years later, it seems paradoxical: being able to restore life deserved death. A sad example of the aberrations to which our certainties can lead… Let us return to the account of what we might call the ‘raising of Lazarus’, because it is not a true resurrection but rather an extension of earthly life. Let us make just two observations. 

First observation: for Jesus, only one thing matters, the glory of God; but to see the glory of God, one must believe (If you believe, you will see the glory of God, he tells Martha). Right from the start of the story, when they tell him: ‘Lord, the one you love is ill’, Jesus replies to the disciples: ‘This illness will not lead to death, but is for the glory of God’, that is, for the revelation of the mystery of God. Faith opens our eyes, removing the blindfold of mistrust that we had placed over our gaze. Second observation: here, faith in the resurrection takes its final step. In Israel, faith in the resurrection appeared late; it was clearly affirmed only in the second century BC, at the time of the persecution by Antiochus Epiphanes, and in Christ’s time it was not yet shared by everyone. Martha and Mary, evidently, are among those who believe in it. But in their minds it is still a resurrection at the end of time; when Jesus says to Martha: “Your brother will rise again”, she replies: “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day”. Jesus, however, corrects her: he is not speaking in the future, but in the present: “I am the resurrection and the life… Whoever believes in me, even if they die, will live; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” To put it plainly, we sense that the Resurrection is already here.” “I am the resurrection and the life” means that death as separation from God no longer exists: it is overcome in Christ’s resurrection, so that believers, with Paul, can say: “O death, where is your victory?”. Now nothing can separate us from the love of Christ, not even death. The true novelty of this Gospel is not that a dead person returns to life, but that life itself has a face: Jesus. When he says: ‘I am the resurrection and the life’, he is not merely promising a future event; he is affirming that those who live in communion with him are already entering a life that death cannot destroy. Lazarus will emerge from the tomb once more, only to die again; but those united with Christ will never return to the tomb as to a final prison. Biological death becomes a passage, not an end; a threshold, not an abyss. If we live in communion with God — that is, in love — we are already within eternity. For God is not merely the One who gives life: He is Life itself. And that which is united to Life cannot be annihilated.

As Saint Augustine writes: “Do you fear death? Love. Love kills death.”

And again, St Paul, in his Letter to the Romans: “Nothing can separate us from the love of God” (Rom 8:39). Herein lies the heart of the sign of Lazarus: whoever remains in love remains in God, and God remains in him, and this communion knows no end. The true resurrection begins now.

 

+Giovanni D’Ercole

From above and from below

(Jn 8:21-30)

 

At the end of the first century, the Jews raised questions concerning the prayerful reading that the disciples of Christ made of the events and the Words of the Master.

The inglorious end of Jesus and His destination posed several questions. The text reiterates that the crucial point was the prejudice of the ever victorious Face of God.

Tare that prevented from recognizing the Father in the Son humiliated by the authorities, and in the sons who had followed Him, equally defeated... but who considered themselves victors - even of the «sin» (v.21)!

Only the sense of the story of Lord sweeps away the void of intimate energy aroused by the perception of the creatural condition - from which the inability to correspond to one's own intimate vocation derives.

Lacerating and bizarre inefficiency, because it is induced and sustained precisely by paradoxically 'worldly' official structures - and by the mentality they themselves spread; a conviction secured over time.

 

The same term used in the plural [«sins», in a moral sense] underlined and reiterated in verse 24 alludes to the torment inoculated in the soul and life of people, precisely by the "normal" cloak of beliefs.

They enclose the journey of individual exceptional personalities within a useless spasmodic search for imperfections, which are by nature inevitable - with the torment of comparisons to external models.

Result: women and men whose lives stagnate in the strident attempt to overcome the genuine contradictions of their own faces that complete us, with extreme and vacuous expenditure of virtues.

 

In this sense, the veterans, experienced and well-known leaders, found it difficult to understand the meaning of the elevation of Christ.

The authentic Messiah was raised to the "right" of the Eternal and on the Cross - highest Revelation of the «I Am»: Emmanuel in his Personality, Wisdom, Uniqueness, Future and already Presence.

The Crucifix that in Jn 19:30 and 20:22 hands over the Spirit without delay, radiates the image of the divine "position".  And through the bond of Faith he makes us live in his Contact; which is of debasement and descent, but of humanizing weight and relief-promotion (vv. 28-29).

What we also experience in the «Son of man» within this founding relationship with the Father becomes explicit precisely in a Confluence, Core, Active Bridge, and Hinge.

Liberation and Salvation that allows to treasure pitfalls, paradoxes, and upheavals.

The Messiah works in a reversal of ​​«glory», of climbing, and dominance.

He acts in the contrast of principle [which seems devoutly incomprehensible] between two «worlds» - the self-styled ‘best’ of which seeks redemption in “above”.

But creates dismay. It still does not know how bringing life from death.

 

«Dying in sin» means closing oneself in the criteria that exclude true honor: that of the total gift of oneself - for a further and widespread outcome.

To the question «Who are you?» Christ responds by giving a full Life appointment, on Calvary.

 

 

[Tuesday 5th wk. in Lent, March 24, 2026]

Raised up and lifted up from themselves, from above and from below

(Jn 8:21-30)

 

At the end of the first century, the Jews raised quite a few questions concerning the prayerful reading that Christ's disciples made of the events and words of the Master - considered to be the expression of the Word of God and the summit of salvation history.

The theme of misunderstanding about the origin and mission of the Son is dramatised in a controversy in which each side stands on a different ground: belonging to the world of Faith, or to that of religion that encloses the Mystery in what is already known.

To help the faithful deepen their understanding of the Lord's call, in the Johannine communities of Asia Minor, the transmission through catechesis of the extent (and preciousness) of involvement in the life of Faith took place through question-and-answer dialogues.

The inglorious end of Jesus and his destination posed various questions. The text reiterates that the crucial point was the prejudice of the always victorious Face of God.

Tara that prevented them from recognising him in the Son humiliated by the authorities, and in the sons who had followed him, equally defeated... but who considered themselves victorious.

 

Compared to the world around them, Christians oriented their gestures and words without banal closed-mindedness, to which we too would sometimes like to conform.

And even today - thanks to this drive, Motive and Drive - it is only because of this conviction that we are able to acquire a different vision, and overcome sin.

The term in the singular here in v.21 [cf. "the sin of the world" in Jn 1:29] does not refer to small daily transgressions, but to the (devout) humbling of unbridgeable distances [compared to the crowning of being].

Only the meaning of Jesus' story sweeps away the emptiness of intimate energy aroused by the perception of the creaturely condition - from which descends the inability to correspond to one's intimate vocation.

A lacerating and bizarre inefficiency, because it is induced and sustained precisely by official structures that are paradoxically "worldly" - and by the mentality spread by them, as well as ensured over time.

The same term used in the plural ["sins", in the moral sense] emphasised and reiterated in v.24 alludes to the torment inoculated in people's souls and lives, precisely by the "normal" cloak of pious convictions.

They enclose the path of individual exceptional personalities within a useless, spasmodic search for imperfections, by nature inevitable - with the torment of comparisons with external models.

The result: women and men whose lives stagnate in the strident attempt to overcome the genuine contradictions of their own faces that complete us, with extreme and vacuous expenditure of virtue.

 

In the sphere of tradition, or rather of custom, in order to identify, correct, and reaffirm (other people's) norms every day, souls are subjected to a regime of retreats that affect both summary conduct and the leading lines of personality.

Such forms of 'government' that are not very inclusive close non-opportunist vocations within themselves, with serious social damage as well: a typical outcome of a climate of people who naively rely on external, mannerist, ethical or intimist ideologies.

In the graniticity of the principles of domination of the beghine structures of sin over individual affairs, the attitude of suspicion of deviance makes the lives of humble and more sensitive people swampy.

Here one risks death - in the very still sands of the sins of return, of addition and gratification, that were originally intended to be exorcised.

Those who embrace the conformity of abstract excellence that wants to re-emerge at all costs - without eminent criteria, nor re-elaboration, and path of personal enhancement with prospects for a critical future - will experience the total reversal of good intentions; then, crazy, sudden thuds.

The swamp of restrained vital powers sets up excellent screens but rots existence, overturning expectations.

It is as if Jesus were saying, "try what a beating you might make by falling from so high up, so you will understand!".

The frame of reference of the leaders of the winning mentality or of ancient devotion, is not the gaze planted on the authentic and full life of the people, but rather the judgmental scrutiny from an already antiquated fashion, without openings.

Basically: the usual or power-assured, stone-hearted and all ready-made one. At hand, as if chiselled down to the tiniest detail - in clichéd institutions, rooted in the territory - representative only of itself.

 

In this sense, the veteran, experienced leaders had difficulty understanding the meaning of Christ's elevation.

The authentic Messiah was elevated to the 'right hand' of the Eternal One and raised on the Cross - the ultimate Revelation of the 'I Am' or Emmanuel in His Personality, Wisdom, Uniqueness, Future and already Presence.The Crucified One, who in Jn 19:30 and 20:22 delivers the Spirit without temporal delay, radiates the image of the divine "position". And through the bond of Faith he makes us live in his contact; which is of debasement and lowliness, but of weight and prominence - humanising promotion (vv.28-29).

What in the "Son of Man" we also experience within such a founding Relationship with the Father is made explicit precisely in a Confluence, Nucleus, Active Bridge, and Hinge. Liberation and Salvation that enables us to treasure pitfalls, paradoxes, upheavals.

He operates in a reversal of the idea of 'glory', climbing, and supremacy. He operates in a principled opposition (which seems devoutly incomprehensible) between two 'worlds' - the self-styled 'best' of which seeks its redemption at 'the top'.

And yet it creates consternation. It does not yet know how to take life from death.

So the discourse is 'internal': it is about the worldly criteria of judgement on the Lord who trust in themselves, who crush us in the coils of doubt; not against the Jews.

It is for anyone who regrets lost small certainties and - precisely - does not yet know how to take sap from the earth.

 

The petty world remains that sadly marked by the shrewd, mediocre, saltieri, constantly compromising and conniving with power - as well as the very coffers of the Temple.

For them, that of Jesus and his people who are serious is suicide (v.22), a condition that - in the thinking of the time - would have led to the eternal state of the darkest hell.

Indeed, the Sanctuary seemed a bright, desirable, spiritual and secluded perimeter; instead, it was only separated... from access to life, and to the thought of Heaven - the only fruitful Centre of gravity.

Tremendous vocation, so unheard of and perilous to the point of mortal risk - to arouse indignation, for every ideology of power: that weighs down the spontaneous and mysterious vitality of today, even broken, bitter, downgraded.

In its ambitious and agonistic reality, aiming to prevail [all decorum, pirouettes, opportunism, reputation] the established institution would not succeed in conveying to Christians the specific sense of their Faith. It imposes itself in the heart, even though it seems deplorable.

The worldly gears distorted and rendered unrecognisable the identity of the paradisiacal condition, confused and bartered with that of the one who wins, towers above, receives honours - without any qualitative leap about the authenticity of the One Subject of history.

 

The Pharisees of all times and creeds still orient themselves on the basis of titles and honours.

The Man-God reflects a different inclination from the expectations of so many sedentary, mundane, mimetic synagogues, who do everything they can to stand up and avoid the low.

"To die in sin" means to close oneself in the criteria that exclude true honour: that of total self-giving - for a further and widespread outcome.

Clear key point of the Son's life, claiming human-divine fullness (v.28).

To the question "Who are you?" Christ answers by giving an appointment of complete Life, on Calvary.

For those of us who feel it pulsating within, the same gratuitousness will not be the impossible fruit of a voluntarist choice, but of discipleship in respect of the personal Vocation - which seeks and makes room for the new kingdom.

Wise discipleship will lead each one from the religious experience of useless and deadly submission to the adventure of Faith in the Lord, with no more qualms that would hinder the journey towards self and neighbour.

 

With the Son of Man lifted up, we will pass from the dull and deadened life of servants to that of friends, therefore brothers (cf. Jn 13:13; 15:15; 20:17).

 

 

To internalise and live the message:

 

When you are questioned about your identity as a being, do you commit yourself to parading titles and goals?

What does it mean for you to be from down here or up there?