4th Lent Sunday   [15 March 2026]  Laetare

May God bless us and the Virgin protect us! This Sunday is a pause of light in the penitential journey. In the Gospel, Jesus gives sight to the blind man. Laetare means this: light is already overcoming the shadows. Even though we are still in Lent, Easter is near. The blind man's joy is achieved through questioning, rejection and loneliness. Laetare is not an escape from pain, but joy that arises from trial. Laetare is the smile of the Church in the middle of the desert: if I allow myself to be enlightened by Christ, my night is not definitive. The man born blind thus becomes an icon of the catechumen, but also of every believer who, in the heart of Lent, discovers that the light is already present and that Christian joy is born from the encounter with Him.

*First Reading from the First Book of Samuel (16:1b, 6-7, 10-13a)

 Reading this biblical text, we understand that the great prophet Samuel had to learn to change his perspective. Sent by God to designate the future king from among the sons of Jesse in Bethlehem, he apparently had only the embarrassment of choice. Jesse first brought his eldest son, named Eliab: tall, handsome, with the appearance worthy of succeeding the current king, Saul. But no: God let Samuel know that his choice did not fall on him: Do not look at his appearance or his tall stature... God does not look as man looks: man looks at the appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart (cf. 1 Sam 16:7).

So Jesse had his sons pass before the prophet one by one, in order of age. But God's choice did not fall on any of them. In the end, he had to call the last one, the one no one had thought of: David, whose only occupation was to tend the sheep. Well, it was he whom God had chosen to guard his people! The biblical account emphasises once again that God's choice falls on the smallest: "God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong," St Paul will say (1 Cor 1:27), because "my power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9). Here is a good reason to change our way of looking at people! From this text we draw at least three lessons about kingship in Israel:

First: the king is God's chosen one, but the election is for a mission. Just as Israel is chosen for the service of humanity, so the king is chosen for the service of the people. This also entails the possibility of being deposed, as happened to Saul: if the chosen one no longer fulfils his mission, he is replaced. Second: the king receives anointing with oil; he is literally the 'messiah', that is, 'the anointed one'. God says to Samuel: 'Fill your horn with oil and set out! I am sending you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have chosen a king among his sons' (1 Sam 16:1). Third: anointing confers the Spirit of God. ' Samuel took the horn full of oil and anointed him in the midst of his brothers, and the Spirit of the Lord came upon David from that day forward' (1 Sam 16:13). The king thus becomes God's representative on earth, called to rule according to God's will and not according to that of the world. There is also another great lesson: men judge by appearances, God looks at the heart.  Many biblical stories insist on this mystery: God often chooses the least. David was the youngest of Jesse's sons; no one thought he had a great future. Moses declared himself slow of speech (Ex 4:10). Jeremiah considered himself too young (Jer 1:6). Samuel himself was inexperienced when he was called. Timothy was in poor health. And the people of Israel were small among the nations. These choices cannot be explained by human criteria. As Isaiah says: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways" (Is 55:8-9). The text summarises it thus: "What man sees does not count: for man sees the appearance, but the Lord sees the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). This truth protects us from two dangers: presumption and discouragement. It is not a question of merit, but of availability. No one possesses the necessary strength within themselves: God will give it at the right moment.

*Responsorial Psalm (22/23) 

We have just heard this psalm in its entirety: it is one of the shortest in the psalter, but it is so dense that the early Christians chose it as the privileged psalm for Easter night. On that night, the newly baptised, rising from the baptismal font, sang Psalm 22/23 as they made their way to the place of their Confirmation and First Eucharist. For this reason, it was called the 'psalm of Christian initiation'. If Christians were able to read the mystery of baptismal life in it, it is because this psalm already expressed in a privileged way the mystery of life in the Covenant, of life in intimacy with God for Israel. It is the mystery of God's choice, who elected this particular people for no apparent reason other than his sovereign freedom. Every generation marvels at this election and this Covenant offered: 'Ask the former generations that preceded you, from the day God created man on earth... has anything so great ever happened?' (Deut 4:32-35). This people, freely chosen by God, was given the privilege of being the first to enter into his intimacy, not to enjoy it selfishly, but to open the door to others. To express the happiness of the believer, Psalm 22/23 refers to two experiences: that of a Levite (a priest) and that of a pilgrim. We are familiar with the institution of the Levites: according to Genesis, Levi was one of the twelve sons of Jacob, from whom the twelve tribes of Israel took their name. But the tribe of Levi had a special place from the beginning: at the time of the division of the Promised Land, it did not receive any territory because it was consecrated to the service of worship. It is said that God himself is their inheritance; an image also taken up in another psalm: "Lord, my portion of inheritance and my cup... for me, the lot has fallen on delightful places" (Ps 15/16:5). The Levites lived scattered among the cities of the other tribes and lived on tithes; in Jerusalem, they were dedicated to the service of the Temple. The Levite in our psalm sings with all his heart: "Goodness and faithfulness shall follow me all the days of my life; I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for long days." His experience is an image of Israel's election: just as the Levite is happy to be consecrated to the service of God, so Israel is aware of its special vocation among humanity. Furthermore, Israel presents itself as a pilgrim going up to the Temple to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving. On the way, it is like a sheep: its shepherd is God. In the culture of the ancient Near East, kings were called "shepherds of the people," and Israel also uses this language. The ideal king is a good shepherd, attentive and strong to protect the flock. But in Israel it was strongly affirmed that the only true king is God; the kings of the earth are only his representatives. Thus, the true shepherd of Israel is God himself: 'The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul'. The prophet Ezekiel developed this image at length. Similarly, the Old Testament often presents Israel as God's flock: "He is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock he leads" (Ps 94/95:7). This recalls the experience of the Exodus: it was there that Israel experienced God's care, who guided them and enabled them to survive amid a thousand obstacles. For this reason, when Jesus said, "I am the Good Shepherd" (Jn 10), his words had a shocking effect: they meant "I am the King-Messiah, the true king of Israel." Returning to the psalm: pilgrimage can be dangerous. The pilgrim may encounter enemies ("You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies"), he may pass through "the dark valley" of death; but he does not fear, because God is with him: "I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff give me security". Once he reaches the Temple, he offers a sacrifice of thanksgiving and participates in the ritual banquet that follows: a joyful feast, with an overflowing cup and the anointing of oil on his head. We can understand why the early Christians saw in this psalm the expression of their experience: Christ is the true Shepherd (Jn 10); in baptism he leads us out of the valley of death to the waters of life; the table and the cup evoke the Eucharist; the perfumed oil recalls Confirmation. Once again, Christians discover with amazement that Jesus does not abolish the faith experience of his people, but brings it to fulfilment, giving it fullness.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Ephesians (5:8-14) 

Often in Scripture, it is the end of the text that provides the key. Let us start with the last sentence: 'For this reason it is said: "Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will give you light."' The phrase "This is why it is said..." clearly shows that the author did not invent this song, but quoted it. It must have been a well-known baptismal hymn in the early Christian communities. Awake... rise... and Christ will give you light was therefore a song of our first brothers and sisters in faith: and this cannot leave us indifferent. Thus, we better understand the beginning of the text: it simply serves to explain the words of that hymn. It is as if, after a baptismal celebration, someone had asked the theologian on duty — Paul, or one of his disciples (since it is not entirely certain that the Letter to the Ephesians was written by him personally) —: "What do the words we sang during baptism mean?" And the answer is this: thanks to baptism, a new life has begun, a radically new life. So much so that the newly baptised were called neophytes, meaning 'new plants'. The author explains the song in this way: the new plant that you have become is profoundly different. When a graft is made, the fruit of the grafted tree is different from the original one; and that is precisely why the graft is made. The colour makes it easy to distinguish what belongs to the new plant and what is a remnant of the past. It is the same with baptism: the fruits of the new man are works of light; before the grafting, you were darkness, and your fruits were works of darkness. But old habits may resurface: this is why it is important to recognise them. For the author, the distinction is simple: the fruits of the new man are goodness, justice and charity. Anything that is not goodness, justice and charity is a sprout from the old tree. Who can make you bear fruits of light? Jesus Christ. He is all goodness, all justice, all charity. Just as a plant needs the sun to bloom, so we must expose ourselves to his light. The song expresses both the work of Christ and the freedom of man: 'Awake, arise' — it is freedom that is called into question. 'Christ will enlighten you' — only he can do this. For St Paul, as for the prophets of the Old Testament, light is an attribute of God. To say 'Christ will enlighten you' means two things: first of all, Christ is God. The only way to live in harmony with God is to remain united to Christ, that is, to live concretely in justice, goodness and charity. The text of Isaiah (Is 58) comes to mind: share your bread with the hungry, welcome the poor, clothe the naked... Then your light will rise like the dawn. This is the glory of the Lord, his light that we are called to reflect. As Paul says in his second letter to the Corinthians (2 Cor 3:18): we reflect the glory of the Lord and are transformed into his image. To reflect means that Christ is the light; we are its reflection. This is the vocation of the baptised: to reflect the light of Christ. For this reason, at baptism, a candle lit from the Paschal candle is given. Secondly, a light does not shine for itself: it illuminates what surrounds it. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul writes: 'You shine like stars in the world' (Phil 2:14-16). This is his way of translating the words of Jesus Christ: 'You are the light of the world'. The Letter to the Ephesians, written directly by Paul or by one of his disciples (according to the then common practice of "pseudepigraphy"), remains for the Church a fundamental testimony of the baptismal vocation, called to pass from darkness to light.

*From the Gospel according to John (9:1-41)

The worst blindness is not what one thinks. Here we hear an illustration of what St John writes at the beginning of his Gospel, in the so-called Prologue:

"The Word was the true light, the light that enlightens every man... He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not recognise him" (Jn 1:9-10). This is what we might call the drama of the Gospels. But John continues: 'Yet to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to become children of God'. This is exactly what happens here: the drama of those who oppose Jesus and stubbornly refuse to recognise him as the One sent by God; but also, fortunately, the salvation of those who have the grace to open their eyes, like the man born blind.

John insists on making us understand that there are two kinds of blindness: physical blindness, which this man had from birth, and, much more serious, blindness of the heart.

Jesus meets the blind man for the first time and heals him of his natural blindness. He then meets him a second time and opens his heart to another light, the true light. It is no coincidence that John takes care to explain the meaning of the name 'Siloam', which means 'Sent'. In other cases, he does not translate the terms: here he does so because it is important. Jesus is truly the One sent by the Father to enlighten the world. Yet we return to the same question: why was the one who was sent to bring God's light rejected by those who awaited him most fervently? The episode of the man born blind takes place immediately after the Feast of Tabernacles, a great solemnity in Jerusalem, during which the coming of the Messiah was ardently invoked. And the danger of certainties can be great. At the time of Jesus Christ, the expectation of the Messiah was very intense. There was only one question: is he truly the Father's Envoy or is he an impostor? Is he the Messiah, yes or no? His actions were paradoxical: he performed the works expected of the Messiah — he restored sight to the blind and speech to the mute — but he did not seem to respect the Sabbath. And it was precisely on the Sabbath that he healed the blind man. Now, if he were truly sent by God, many thought, he should observe the Sabbath. It was 'obvious'. But it is precisely this 'obviousness' that is the problem. Many had too rigid ideas about what the Messiah should be like and were not ready for God's surprise. The blind man, on the other hand, is not a prisoner of preconceptions. To the Pharisees who ask him for explanations, he simply replies: "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes... I washed and gained my sight." The Pharisees are divided: He is not from God, because he does not observe the Sabbath. How can a sinner perform such signs? The blind man reasons with simplicity and freedom: If this man were not from God, he could do nothing (cf. Jn 9:31-33). It is always the same story: those who close themselves off in their own certainties end up seeing nothing; those who take a step in faith are ready to receive grace. And then they can receive true light from Jesus. This episode takes place in a context of controversy between Jesus and the Pharisees. Twice Jesus had rebuked them for  "judging by appearances" (Jn 7:24; 8:15). It is natural to recall the episode of David's choice: "Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1 Sam 16:7). The worst blindness, therefore, is not that of the eyes, but that of a heart that does not want to be enlightened. The man born blind does not only receive sight: he receives a new way of seeing. At first he sees Jesus as "a man"; then as a "prophet"; finally he recognises him as "Lord" and prostrates himself before him. The real miracle is not only the opening of the eyes, but the opening of the heart. Here we also find the wisdom of The Little Prince (novel by A.M. de Saint-Exupéry): "What is essential is invisible to the eye." The Pharisees see with their eyes, but remain blind inside; the beggar, on the other hand, passing through rejection and trial, comes to see the Invisible. The conclusion is this: faith is a journey from external light to inner light. One can have healthy eyes and remain in darkness; or one can have been blind and become a witness to the light. The man born blind teaches us that true sight is recognising Christ as the Light of the world and allowing our hearts to be illuminated.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

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

(Mt 5:17-19)

In the face of the Law’s precepts, distant attitudes appear.

There are those who demonstrate attachment to the material sense of what has been established. Others, omission or contempt for the rules.

Jesus offered such a new and radical teaching as to give the impression of carelessness and rejection of the Law. But in fact, more than his differences with it, He was attentive to the profound meaning of the biblical-Jewish directives.

He didn’t intend to «demolish» (v.17) the Torah, but he certainly avoided allowing himself to be minimized in the cases of morality that parceled out the basic choices - and made them all exterior, without fulcrum.

The legalistic sclerotization easily tended to equate the codes... with God. But for the believer, his "obligation" is at the same time Event, Word, and Person: global following.

In the first communities some faithful believed that the norms of the First Testament should no longer be considered, as we are saved by Faith, not by works of Law.

Others accepted Jesus as the Messiah, but couldn’t bear the excess of freedom with which some brothers of the church lived his Presence.

Still linked to an ideal ethnic background, they believed that ancient observance was mandatory.

There was no lack of brothers enraptured by an excess of fantasies in the Spirit. In fact, some denied the Hebrew Scriptures and considered themselves free from history: they no longer looked at the life of Jesus.

Mt seeks a balance between emancipation and closure.

He writes his Gospel to support converts to the Faith in Christ in the communities of Galilee and Syria, accused by the Judaizers of being unfaithful to the Torah.

The evangelist clarifies that Jesus himself had been accused of serious transgressions to the Law of Moses.

The trajectory of the Jewish Scriptures is the right one, but it doesn’t have an unanimous and totally clear starting point, nor the strength in itself to reach Target.

The arrow of the Torah has been shot in the right direction, but only in the Spirit of the Beatitudes can a living assembly gain momentum to reach Communion.

The Gospel passage is concerned to emphasise: the ancient Scriptures, the historical story of Jesus, and life in the Spirit must be evaluated inseparable aspects of a single plan of salvation.

Lived in synergy, they lead to the conviviality of differences.

The God of the patriarchs makes himself present in the loving relationship of the communities, through faith in Christ, who expands his own life in their hearts.

The Living One conveys the Spirit that spurs all creativity, He overcomes unfriendly closures; He opens, and invites.

[In us, Jesus of Nazareth becomes a living Body - and the pleasure of doing manifests Him (from the soul) in Person and full Fidelity].

Handing oneself out to brothers and going to God thus becomes agile, spontaneous, rich and very personal for everyone: the Strength comes from within.

New or ancient Words, and Spirit renewing the face of the earth, are part of one Plan.

Only in the total fascination of the Risen One does our harvest come to complete life - the full objective of the Law - becoming ‘forever’.

[Wednesday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 11, 2026]

Undeviating Happiness

(Mt 5:17-19)

In the early congregations, some believers believed that First Testament regulations should no longer be considered, since we are saved by Faith and not by works of Law.

Others accepted Jesus as the Messiah, but resented the excess of freedom with which some church brothers experienced his Presence in Spirit.

Still tied to an ideal ethnic background, they felt that the ancient observance was obligatory.

Precisely under the guise of "life in the Spirit", there was no shortage of believers enraptured by an excess of fantasies (personal or group), believed to be "inspired".

Some with an easy-going mentality, prone to compromise with power, denied the Hebrew Scriptures and considered themselves disengaged from history: they no longer looked at the story of Jesus.

Mt sought a balance between compromising emancipation and closure in observances, believing that communal experience could achieve harmony between different sensibilities.

He writes his Gospel precisely to support converts to the Faith in Christ in the communities of Galilee and Syria, accused by their Judaizing brethren of being unfaithful to the Torah.

The evangelist makes it clear that Jesus himself had been accused of serious transgressions of the Law of Moses.

The Torah arrow was shot in the right direction, but only in the Spirit of the Beatitudes can a living assembly gain momentum to reach the ideal goal: Communion.

Matthew is at pains to emphasise that the ancient Scriptures, the historical story of Jesus, and life in the Spirit are to be valued as inseparable aspects of a single plan of salvation.

Lived in synergy, they lead to the fruitful coexistence and conviviality of differences.

The God of the patriarchs makes himself present in the loving relationship of the communities, through the Faith in Christ that expands his own life in their hearts.

The Living One transmits the Spirit that spurs all creativity, overcomes discouraging closures; he opens, and invites.

In short, in us Jesus of Nazareth becomes the living Body - and the taste for doing manifests Him (starting from the soul) in Person and full Faithfulness.

Reaching out to our brothers and sisters and going to God thus becomes agile, spontaneous, rich and very personal for everyone: the Strength comes from within, not from common ideas, legacies, seductions, mannerisms, or external urges.

To internalise and live the message:

Has the law in stone remained a rigid thing in you, or do you feel a new Covenant impulse?

Do you perceive within you an actualised and irresistible desire for good, which rediscovers everything of the Scriptures, and energises the Word in the various tastes of doing?

Demolish or completely Doing

Confronted with the precepts of the Law, different attitudes manifest themselves.

On the one hand, there are those who show attachment to the material sense of what is laid down; on the other, omission or disregard for the rules.

Jesus' teaching was so new and radical that it gave the impression of disregard and rejection of the Law. But in fact, rather than disagreeing with it, He was attentive to the spirit and deep meaning of the biblical-Judaic directives.

He did not intend to 'demolish' (v.17) the Torah, but he certainly avoided allowing himself to be minimised in the casuistry of morality.

Such an ethical obsession - still alive in the primitive fraternities - fragmented and crumbled the meaning of the basic choices, and made them all external, without focus.

This produced a de facto legalistic scleroticisation, which easily tended to equate the codes... with God.

But for the believer, his 'obligation' is at once affair, spirit of the Word, and Person: global following in those same incomparable appointments.

The believers in the communities of Galilee and Syria suffered criticism from the old-fashioned Jews.

These observant ones accused co-religionists converted to the new personal, creative Faith of being transgressors and contrary to the depth of the common Tradition.

Thus some emphasised salvation by faith alone in Christ and not by works of law. Others did not accept the Freedom that was growing in those who were beginning to believe in Jesus the Messiah.

New, more radical currents already wished to disregard His history and His Person, to get rid of them and take refuge in a generic "avant-garde" or "freedom of spirit" - without backbone, nor backbone or conjuncture.

Mt helps to understand the disagreement: the direction of the Arrow shot from the Judaic Scriptures is the right one, but it does not have a concordant and totally clear cue, nor the strength to reach the Target.

The evangelist harmonises the tensions, emphasising that authentic observance is not formal faithfulness [obedience of the "letter"].

The spirit of fundamental fulfilment does not allow one to put the total Christ and his travails in parentheses, perhaps then remaining neutral or indifferent dreamers.

Without reductions in the power of election, nor "putting down" (v. 17) the ways of being, ancient and identified or particular - He is present in the facets of the most diverse currents of thought.

New Words, ancient Words, and Spirit renewing the face of the earth, are part of one Design.

Only in the total fascination of the Risen One does our harvest come to complete life - the full objective of the Law - becoming forever.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you evaluate Pentateuch, Psalms and Prophets?

How do you deal with situations in harmony with the Voice of the Lord and in His Spirit?

“Stand firm in your faith!”  We have just heard the words of Jesus:  “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.  And I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counsellor, to be with you for ever, the Spirit of truth” (Jn 14:15-17a).  With these words Jesus reveals the profound link between faith and the profession of Divine Truth, between faith and dedication to Jesus Christ in love, between faith and the practice of a life inspired by the commandments.  All three dimensions of faith are the fruit of the action of the Holy Spirit.  This action is manifested as an inner force that harmonizes the hearts of the disciples with the Heart of Christ and makes them capable of loving as he loved them.  Hence faith is a gift, but at the same time it is a task.

“He will give you another Counsellor – the Spirit of truth.”  Faith, as knowledge and profession of the truth about God and about man, “comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes by the preaching of Christ”, as Saint Paul says (Rom 10:17).  Throughout the history of the Church, the Apostles preached the word of Christ, taking care to hand it on intact to their successors, who in their turn transmitted it to subsequent generations until our own day.  Many preachers of the Gospel gave their lives specifically because of their faithfulness to the truth of the word of Christ.  And so solicitude for the truth gave birth to the Church’s Tradition.  As in past centuries, so also today there are people or groups who obscure this centuries-old Tradition, seeking to falsify the Word of Christ and to remove from the Gospel those truths which in their view are too uncomfortable for modern man.  They try to give the impression that everything is relative:  even the truths of faith would depend on the historical situation and on human evaluation.  Yet the Church cannot silence the Spirit of Truth.  The successors of the Apostles, together with the Pope, are responsible for the truth of the Gospel, and all Christians are called to share in this responsibility, accepting its authoritative indications.  Every Christian is bound to confront his own convictions continually with the teachings of the Gospel and of the Church’s Tradition in the effort to remain faithful to the word of Christ, even when it is demanding and, humanly speaking, hard to understand.  We must not yield to the temptation of relativism or of a subjectivist and selective interpretation of Sacred Scripture.  Only the whole truth can open us to adherence to Christ, dead and risen for our salvation.

Christ says:  “If you love me ... ”  Faith does not just mean accepting a certain number of abstract truths about the mysteries of God, of man, of life and death, of future realities.  Faith consists in an intimate relationship with Christ, a relationship based on love of him who loved us first (cf. 1 Jn 4:11), even to the total offering of himself.  “God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8).  What other response can we give to a love so great, if not that of a heart that is open and ready to love?  But what does it mean to love Christ?  It means trusting him even in times of trial, following him faithfully even on the Via Crucis, in the hope that soon the morning of the Resurrection will come.  Entrusting ourselves to Christ, we lose nothing, we gain everything.  In his hands our life acquires its true meaning.  Love for Christ expresses itself in the will to harmonize our own life with the thoughts and sentiments of his Heart.  This is achieved through interior union based on the grace of the Sacraments, strengthened by continuous prayer, praise, thanksgiving and penance.  We have to listen attentively to the inspirations that he evokes through his Word, through the people we meet, through the situations of daily life.  To love him is to remain in dialogue with him, in order to know his will and to put it into effect promptly.

Yet living one’s personal faith as a love-relationship with Christ also means being ready to renounce everything that constitutes a denial of his love.  That is why Jesus said to the Apostles:  “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”  But what are Christ’s commandments?  When the Lord Jesus was teaching the crowds, he did not fail to confirm the law which the Creator had inscribed on men’s hearts and had then formulated on the tablets of the Decalogue.  “Think not that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets;  I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them.  For truly, I say to you, till heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the law until all is accomplished” (Mt 5:17-18).  But Jesus showed us with a new clarity the unifying centre of the divine laws revealed on Sinai, namely love of God and love of neighbour:  “To love [God] with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbour as oneself, is much more than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices” (Mk 12:33).  Indeed, in his life and in his Paschal Mystery Jesus brought the entire law to completion.  Uniting himself with us through the gift of the Holy Spirit, he carries with us and in us the “yoke” of the law, which thereby becomes a “light burden” (Mt 11:30).  In this spirit, Jesus formulated his list of the inner qualities of those who seek to live their faith deeply:  Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who weep, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for justice, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake ... (cf. Mt 5:3-12).

[Pope Benedict, homily Warsaw 26 May 2006]

1. "Master what good must I do to obtain eternal life?". "Keep the commandments" (Mt 19:16-17).

This question and this answer come to mind when we listen carefully to the readings of today's liturgy.

The main theme of these readings is indeed that of God's commandments, the Law of the Lord.

2. The Church sings of it today in the Responsorial Psalm:

"Blessed is the man of integrity, / who walks in the law of the Lord. / Thou hast given thy precepts / that they may be faithfully observed. / Let my ways be straight, / in keeping thy decrees . . / Open my eyes that I may see / the wonders of thy law . . .".

And again:

"Show me, O Lord, the way of your precepts / and I will follow it to the end / Give me understanding, that I may keep your law / and guard it with all my heart" (Ps 119:1-34).

The idea contained in the verses of this psalm is so transparent, that it requires no comment.

3. Instead, it is worth adding a brief comment on the words from the book of Sirach, in the first reading:

"If thou wilt, thou shalt keep the commandments: being faithful shall depend on thy good pleasure. He has set fire and water before you; there where you will you shall stretch out your hand. Before men stand life and death; to each shall be given what he pleases" (Sir 15:16-17).

Sirach emphasises the close link that exists between commandment and man's free will: "If thou wilt . . .". And at the same time it shows that on man's choice and decision depends good or evil, life or death, in the spiritual sense.

The observance of the commandments is the way to goodness, the way to life.

Their transgression is the way of evil, the way of death.

4. Now let us turn to the Sermon on the Mount in today's Gospel, according to St Matthew.

Christ says first:

"Think not that I am come to abolish the Law (or the Prophets); I am not come to abolish, but to fulfil".(Matt 5:17).

Whoever transgresses a single one of these precepts, even a minimal one, and teaches men to do likewise, will be considered minimal in the kingdom of heaven. (Ibid. 5, 19)

Whoever, on the other hand, observes them and teaches them to men, will be considered great in the kingdom of heaven. (Ibid.)

And Christ adds:

"Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven" (Mt 5:17-20).

So the Law, the Commandments, the Rules are important not only in themselves, but also the way of understanding them, of teaching them, of observing them. This must be before the eyes of all those who explain God's law and interpret the principles of Christian morality, in every age and even in contemporary times.

5. And Christ gives three examples of the commandment and its interpretation in the spirit of the New Covenant.

"Thou shalt not kill" (Mt 5:21).

"Thou shalt not commit adultery" (Mt 5:27).

"Thou shalt not perjure" (Mt 5:33).

"Thou shalt not kill" means not only not to take the life of others, but also not to live in hatred and anger towards others. "Do not commit adultery": it means not only not to take another's wife, but also not to covet her, not to commit adultery in the heart.

"Do not perjure yourself . . .", "but I say unto you, swear not at all" (Mt 5:34), but let your speech be true: "yea, yea; nay, nay" (Mt 5:37).

6. What is the Gospel? What is the Sermon on the Mount?

Is it merely a "code of morals?".

Certainly yes. It is a code of Christian morality. It indicates the main ethical demands. But it is more: it also indicates the way to perfection. This way corresponds to the nature of human freedom: to free will. In fact, man, with his free will, can choose not only between good and evil, but also between 'the good' 'the best' and 'the most' in the sphere of morality, also so as not to descend towards 'the least good' or even towards 'evil'.

Indeed, as the book of Sirach continues:

"Great indeed is the wisdom of the Lord; he is all-powerful and sees all things. His eyes are on those who fear him, he knows every deed of men. He has not commanded anyone to be ungodly, nor given anyone permission to sin" (Sir 15:18-20).

And St Paul goes further, when in his first letter to the Corinthians he writes:

"Among the perfect we speak, yes, of wisdom . . .; we speak of a divine, mysterious wisdom, which has remained hidden, and which God foreordained before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this world have been able to know it" (1 Cor 2:6-8).

Those things which God has prepared for those who love him "to us God has revealed them by the Spirit; for the Spirit searches all things, even the depths of God" (1 Cor 2:10).

7. Dear parishioners of the Roman community dedicated to St Hippolytus! Secure information on the life and work of your patron, as you know, is unfortunately scarce, yet we know with certainty that fact which alone suffices to prove the greatness of his life and holiness: his martyrdom together with Pope Pontian.

Whatever Hippolytus' previous life may have been, he was able to reach the summit of exemplary holiness with that supreme gesture of love for Christ and his vicar on earth. His example is therefore a source of encouragement and hope for you too.

For now, I would like to greet all those present: the Cardinal Vicar, the Bishop of the sector, Monsignor Alessandro Plotti, the parish priest, Father Maurilio Beltramo, the community of Capuchin friars, the Sacramentine nuns, the other priests and religious, who collaborate in the parish activities, all the groups, and the people of God of this portion of the Church, indeed of this small Church that is the parish, image and sign of the universal Church spread throughout the world.

The parish is the normal and concrete medium through which people can get to know the great and mysterious reality of the universal Church. Hence the perennial need for the parish to present, by its very existence, to the world, an image as faithful as possible to the universal Church, contributing actively and responsibly to its construction and development.

I know that your parish population is very numerous and composite in terms of social classes and professions. The harvest is therefore abundant for the workers of the Gospel.

I also know that initiatives, groups, activities are not lacking among you. I recommend that this lively and flourishing pluralism of yours should always know how to express itself on the basis of an unquestioning fidelity to the authentic principles of unity in faith and charity, in communion with your pastors. Such principles in fact underpin the true effectiveness of the many and varied activities.

8. 'Blessed is the man of integrity, who walks in the law of the Lord'.

May these words, taken from today's liturgy, remain with you, dear brothers and sisters, as an expression of the fervent good wishes of the Bishop of Rome on the occasion of today's visit.

Seek God, follow the paths of truth and love: follow them according to the principles of Christian morality, according to the light of God's eternal wisdom.

And may your hearts never cease to be open to the action of the Holy Spirit who "scrutinises everything, even the depths of God".

Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, homily 12 February 1984]

Today’s Gospel reading (cf. Mt 5:17-37) is on the “Sermon on the Mount” and deals with the subject of the fulfilment of the Law: how should  I fulfil the Law, how can I do it? Jesus wants to help his listeners take the right approach to the prescriptions of the Commandments given to Moses, urging them to be open to God who teaches  us true freedom and responsibility through the Law. It is a matter of living it as an instrument of freedom. Let us not forget this: to live the Law as an instrument of freedom, which helps me to be freer, which helps me not to be a slave to passion and sin. Let us think about war, let us think about the consequences of war, let us think of that little girl who died due to the cold [temperatures], in Syria the day before yesterday. So many calamities, so many. This is the result of passion, and people who wage war do not know how to master their passions. They do not comply with the law. When one  gives in to temptation and passion, one is not the master and agent of one’s own life, but rather one becomes  incapable of managing it with willingness and responsibility.

Jesus’ discourse is divided into four antitheses, each one expressed by the formula: “You have heard that it was said... But I say to you”. These antitheses refer to as many situations in daily life: murder, adultery, divorce and swearing. Jesus does not abolish the prescriptions concerning these issues, but he explains their full meaning and indicates the spirit in which they must be observed. He encourages us to move away from the formal observance of the Law to substantive observance, accepting the Law in our hearts, which is the centre of the intentions, decisions, words and gestures of each of us. From the heart come good and bad deeds.

By accepting the Law of God in our heart, one understands that, when one does not love one’s neighbour, to some extent one kills oneself and others, because hatred, rivalry and division kill the fraternal charity that is the basis of interpersonal relationships. And this applies to what I have said about war and also about gossip, because words kill. By accepting the Law of God in our heart one understands that desires must be guided, because one cannot obtain everything one desires, and it is not good to give in to selfish and possessive feelings. When one accepts the Law of God in one’s heart, one understands that one must give up a lifestyle of broken promises, as well as move from the prohibition of perjury to the decision not to swear at all, behaving sincerely to  everyone.

And Jesus is aware that it is not easy to live the Commandments in such an all-encompassing way. That is why he offers us the help of his love: he came into the world not only to fulfil the Law, but also to give us his grace, so that we can do God’s will, loving him and our brothers and sisters. We can do everything, everything, with the grace of God! Indeed,  holiness is none other than guarding God’s freely given  grace. It is a matter of trusting and entrusting ourselves to him, to his Grace, to that freedom that he has given us, and welcoming the hand he constantly extends to us, so that our efforts and our necessary commitment can be sustained by his help, overflowing with goodness and mercy.

Today Jesus asks us to continue on the path of love that he has indicated to us and which begins from the heart. This is the path  to follow in order to live as Christians. May the Virgin Mary help us to follow the path traced by her Son, to reach true joy and to spread justice and peace everywhere.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 16 February 2020]

(Mt 18:21-35)

Throughout the ancient Middle East, non-disproportionate retaliation one to one [not cruel] was a sacred law.

Forgiveness was a humiliating and absurd attitude, an incomprehensible principle to anyone experiencing any injustice.

Conversely, in the dynamic of Faith, forgiveness becomes a power, which not only makes the air breathable, but activates our personal destiny.

Peter instead wants to know the limits of forgiveness (v.21).

Historically, at the end of the first century the picky, severe, style of the synagogue and of the Empire [«divide et impera»] reappear in believers. 

A question arises: will we have to stop welcoming?

In addition, in the same churches one begins to think that someone has sinned in lese majesty towards those who - now hard and heartless - are used to being revered.

Veterans who make trouble more than others and then dot on the minutiae of others (the weak brothers, considered subjected and destined to the fiscal rigour of moralisms, as well as penances).

While religious discipline exacerbates minute defects, the very experience of the disproportion between the forgiveness received from the Father and what we are able to offer to the brothers, makes us understand the need for tolerance.

Church should be this space of the experience of God who return life, an alternative place of fraternity.

Imperial society was harsh and uncompassionate, with no room for the small and shaky, who unassumingly sought any refuge for their hearts - but no religion gave them an answer.

Synagogues, too, identified material and spiritual blessings. Cloaked with requirements, purity rules and fulfilments, they did not offer the warmth of a welcoming place for the weak.

The issue was that in the early Christian communities themselves, some people insisted on the rigour of norms, customs and hierarchies, demanding coexistence based on the Judaizing model.

Furthermore, as the Letter of James testifies, towards the end of the first century the identical divisions of society, between miserables and wealthy, were already beginning to manifest themselves in the churches of Christ!

Welcoming space of the communities that in the Spirit had been given the task by the Lord to enlighten the world with their seed of life as a ‘shelter for all’ (and of alternative relationships) ran the risk of becoming again a place of conflict, judgement, punishment, condemnation.

«So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if you do not condone each one to his own brother from your heart» (v.35).

Divine forgiveness becomes effective and evident only in the testimony of the Church (v.35) where sisters and brothers - instead of showing themselves to be meticulous, let themselves be guided by a Vision of new heavens and new earth.

For this reason - without any effort, indeed blessing the needs of others as territories of preparatory energies - they live the communion of resources and remit even material debts, a misery.

Otherwise, we would always have to live in the incumbency of an indulgent God perhaps, but at times, and according to the cases retracting the doing of mercy.

It would be a life without surprising developments, all weighted down in a swamp of little pennies.

Instead, it’s the active energy of the Faith that doesn’t condemn us to trudge.

The magnanimity that comes out of the automatisms shifts our gaze and brings us an ineffable and growing wave, far ahead of what we can imagine.

Our surrenders are preparing new developments - the ones that count, without limitations.

The "win-or-lose" alternative is false: you have to get out of it.

[Tuesday 3rd wk. in Lent, March 10, 2026]

(Mt 18:21-35)

Throughout the ancient Middle East, non-proportionate (one-to-one, not cruel) retaliation was sacred law.

Forgiveness was a humiliating and absurd attitude, an incomprehensible principle for anyone experiencing any injustice or drama.

Conversely, in the dynamic of Faith, forgiving becomes a power, which not only makes the air breathable, but activates our personal destiny.

The Gospel according to Matthew devotes the greatest attention to the theme of forgiveness and the need to recompose internal frictions within the church, where each seems to want to crush the other - if only out of spiritual envy.

One wonders: is there a different counterpart to the pagan principle of retributive justice [uncuique jus suum], which by going to extremes ends up accentuating divisions?

What is the most reasonable behaviour for those who have been accepted by God, and even exorbitantly condoned?

It is not enough to oppose a good-natured value, albeit noble, indeed lofty - but for this reason, out of scale - if it excludes the time of a journey, the horizon of development that finally supplants [and does not simply gloss over: so-called 'being positive'].

The only solution free of dormant vindictiveness is to have a sense of the immeasurable, of the gratuitous prevenient - received without merit or conditions; in view of new paths.

We must first realise that the decisive element in overcoming obstacles is not our own strength or an induced voluntarism, which tears both ourselves and our brothers and sisters apart.

Only a dizzying emotion can integrate the drives and all affections, and bring to the surface the germs of the passions that give vertigo.

Personal or external ecstasies; unknown and neglected or unexpressed, to which we have not yet given space.

In fact, in the everyday summary, it seems normal to us to oppose immediate reactions and violate situations with shamelessness, then to set the stage for minor non-compliances by others - with the pretence even of suffocating those responsible for the nonsense.

Of course, even immediately after we have pleaded and promised in the ritual.

Mt proposes even paradoxical nuances on forgiveness - always placing his catecheses on a level of pricelessness, in the perspective of spousal and creative Faith.

And he insists on it in several passages, because the communities he addresses are very poor; still rooted in the narrowness of ancient religiosity.

As is the case not only in groups tied to the baggage of the tradition of the 'fathers' - not of the Father - the members of the communities of Galilee and Syria experienced as an affront the normality of quarrels, differing opinions, and all conflicts.

It seems unbelievable, but those who feel themselves in possession of a licence of immunity [linked to futuristic myths or sacred inhibitions, old-fashioned brakes and observances or cosmic projects of abstract subversion] find it more difficult to enter into the minute logic of coexistence, of confrontation - of disproportion, of the without-boundary, of the Gift that favours coexistence itself.

Peter wants to know the limits of forgiveness (v.21).

Historically, at the end of the first century, the squeamish, severe style of the synagogue and the empire [‘divide et impera’] had reappeared among believers.

The question arose and reappeared: should one stop in welcoming?

In addition, in the churches themselves, people were beginning to think that someone had sinned of lese majesty towards those who - by then hard and heartless - were used to being revered.

Veterans who were up to more than others and then doted on the minutiae of others (the weak brethren, considered subordinates, and destined for the fiscal rigour of moralising as well as penances).

Does the insolvent debtor of the Gospel take it out on those who owe him a few pennies?

The excessive Forgiveness of the living and true God can only be manifested to the world through a community that raises grudges and relationships to a new plane - simply more normal.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (x): "Let creatures live and feed them, let them live and not keep them as your own; work and expect nothing, let them grow and not rule them. This is the mysterious virtue'.

As a commentary, Master Wang Pi writes: "The Dao in eternity does not act, creatures transform themselves. Do not obstruct their source, do not hinder their nature. Creatures from themselves grow and satisfy themselves'.

Master Ho-shang Kung adds: "The Tao makes the ten thousand creatures grow and nourish, but it does not harm them by governing them as if they were instruments. The Tao's implementation of virtue is mysterious and obscure, nor can it be scrutinised. He wants to induce men to be like the Tao'.

Even today, legalistic practice exasperates minute faults, but the very experience of the disproportion between the forgiveness we receive from the Father and what we are able to offer our brothers and sisters makes us realise the need for indulgence.

Lived tolerance, in situation; not just in principle. 

Even more so in times of global crisis, the Church should be this space of God's life-giving experience. An alternative place of less cheap, less sophisticated fraternity.

The imperial society was harsh and without compassion, lacking space for the small and shaky, who unassumingly sought any refuge for the heart - but no religion provided an answer to their need for understanding.

Even synagogues identified material and spiritual blessings. Cloaked with prior demands, rules of purity and fulfilments, they did not offer the warmth of a welcoming place for the weak.

The trouble was that in the earliest Christian communities themselves, some put their foot down on the rigour of the rules.

Consuetudines and hierarchies they were accustomed to, demanding coexistence based on the Judaizing model - or according to the harshness of schematic, disembodied principles, lacking grip.

Moreover, as the letter of James testifies, towards the end of the first century the identical divisions of society around them, between the indigent and the well-to-do, were already beginning to manifest themselves in the churches of Christ!

The welcoming space of the communities that in the Spirit had been given the task by the Lord to enlighten the world with their seed of life as Homes for all, of alternative relations, ran the risk of once again becoming a place of conflict, judgement, punishment, condemnation.

As usual: no Good News for the least, everywhere exhausted.

And this unspeakable climate also sowed death for others, even more fortunate - but trapped in harsh reality.

What to do?

The fundamental educational function of the Church is still to include; to make it understood that the initiative can only be the creditor's (vv.21-22.27.33): he too is a "lost one" (v.25).

Only by the intimate work of awareness in Faith is the ruthlessness of competition, of retributive justice, overcome.

There is no wisdom in being pretentious in order to be someone (vv.28-30).

Our failures are preparing new developments - those that count, without limitation.

"So also my heavenly Father will do to you, if you do not forgive each one his brother from your heart" (v.35).

Divine forgiveness becomes effective and evident in the testimony of the Church where sisters and brothers, instead of being punctilious, are caught up in it.

They allow themselves to be guided by a vision of new heavens and a new earth.

That is why - without any effort whatsoever, indeed blessing the needs of others as territories of preparatory energies - they live the communion of resources and forgive even material debts, which are then a misery.

If not, we would always have to live in the impendence of a God of reciprocation.

And in this way we would reveal him: forgiving perhaps, but in time; retracting 'mercy' - Pope Francis would say.

So: for life under the lash of tormentors, proponents also of a mannered but contrived existence. Made of unimaginative exchanges.

A hell of anticipated pettiness, undercutting and ridiculing the Measure of the Gospel. Glad tidings that go together with differences.

Even the balancing of remissions would not save us from the offence (this one enormous) of stasis that levels the essences - hence from ruin.

It is beautiful and fruitful to live in the imbalance of gratuitousness, rather than in give and take. It also happens with God.

Through forgiveness, not only do we improve the obsessive atmosphere and attest to belief - e.g. in the Cross - but we build a malleable and malleable experience, with fullness of recovery and being.

From astonishment; openness, flexibility, disproportion.

The rest remains only commentary.

Echo of a subject that banally proposes to ratify the 'contract'.

Trace of an environment that remains where it is - until it allows new forces to take over.

It would be a life without marvellous developments, all weighed down in the 'quid pro quo' and the swamp of the few.

Instead, it is the active energy of Faith, the one that overcomes defined pacts. And does not condemn us to trudge on.

The ever-increasing magnanimity that comes out of automatisms shifts the gaze of small cuts.

It carries an ineffable and growing Wave. Much further than we can imagine.

The 'win-or-lose' alternative is false: we must get out of it.

To internalise and live the message:

Can you live in the imbalance of gratuitousness?

Do you accelerate and judge, or do you perceive and wait?

Is your life of Faith constitutive of the give and take typical of mundane religion, or the awareness that you are obliged to pour out the echo of what the Father has already given you?

What is the reconciliation space of your reality?

What do you concretely mean by the Gospel? 

Forgiveness and Faith: Living Encounter

Gratis eccentric, forward: Sacrament of humanity as such

(Lk 17:1-6)

The knowledge of God is not a confiscated commodity or an acquired and already foreclosed science: it moves from one action and another, unceasingly; it is realised in an ever-living Encounter, which does not block or dissolve us.

Typical, the experience of the "little ones" [mikròi v.2]. From the earliest communities of faith, they have been those who lacked security and energy; unstable and without support.

Since time immemorial, "Little Ones" have been the incipients; the new ones, who have heard of Christian brotherhood, but are sometimes forced to stand in line, aside, or give up the journey.

But the criterion of welcome, tolerance, communion even of material goods, has been the first and main catalyst for the growth of the assemblies.

Even the origin and meaning of all the formulas and signs of the liturgy.

The existential and ideal centre to which to converge. For a proactive and in itself transformative Faith.

In the Spirit of the Master, even for us the conciliation of friction is not simply a work of magnanimity.

It is the beginning of the future world. The beginning of an unpredictable and unspeakable adventure. And we with it suddenly reborn: coming into frank contact in Christ. He who does not extinguish us at all.

Hence the Christian forgiveness of children, which is not... 'looking positive', and 'turning a blind eye': rather, Newness of God that creates an environment of Grace, propulsive, with enormous possibilities.

Force that breaks through and paradoxically lets the dark poles meet, instead of shaking them off. Genuinely eliminating useless comparisons, words and ballasts, which block the transparent Exodus.

Dynamics that guide one to the indispensable and unavoidable: waves to shift one's gaze. Teaching one to notice one's own hysterics, to know oneself, to face anxiety, its reason; to manage situations and moments of crisis.

Mouldable virtue that places one in intimate listening to the personal essence.

Hence, solid, broad empathy that introduces new energies; it brings one's own deep states, even standard life, together... arousing other knowledge, different perspectives, unexpected relationships.

Thus without too much struggle it renews us, and curbs the loss of veracity [typical, that in favour of circumstantial manners]. It accentuates capacities and horizons of Peace - crumbling primates, swampy balances.

The discovery of new sides of the being that we are, conveys a sense of better wholeness, then spontaneously curbs external influences, dissolves prejudices, does not make one act on an emotional, impulsive basis.

Rather, it puts us in a position to reveal the hidden and astounding meaning of being. It unfolds the crucial horizon.

Activating 'Forgiveness' is gratuitously a surrender of one's character range, of all lost dignity, and far beyond.

By laying down sentences, the art of tolerance expands the [also intimate] gaze. It enhances and strengthens the dull sides; those we ourselves had detested.

In this eccentric way it transforms those considered distant or mediocre [mikroi] into outriders and brilliant inventors. For what was unthought of yesterday will be clarifying and driving tomorrow.

Confusions will make sense - precisely because of the thinking of the minds in crisis, and because of the action of the despised, intruders, outside of all spin and predictability.

Life of pure Faith in the Spirit: i.e., the imagination of the 'weak'... in power.

Because it is the paradoxical mechanism that makes the crossroads of history assess, activates passions, creates sharing, solves real problems.

And so it supplants difficult moments forwards (bringing us back to the true path) by orienting reality to the concrete good.

Making it fly towards itself.

The 'win-or-lose' alternative is false: we must get out of it. It is in such 'emptiness' and Silence that God makes His way.

Mystery of Presence, overflowing. New Covenant.