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 21:33-43.45-46)

Christ introduces everyone to an adventurous, uncomfortable journey, not without pitfalls that throw the situation upside down and destabilize - but it’s the Way for each of us to recognize himself.

Otherwise we would not get closer to the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity - virtues that are necessary for rebirth, even from global emergency.

Jesus uses the figure of the Vineyard to describe the work of God and the response of men - first and foremost spiritual leaders (v.23).

Religious leaders were like this: hostile to divine action; equipped to appear, nevertheless violent and sclerotic.

The directors to whom Jesus addresses, follow the entire metaphor step by step - and they seem to find themselves unguarded. They only remain speechless at the end.

Why does He ask them imperatively: «Listen you» [which is not a simple invitation]?

From the beginning speaks with a master tone. Why?

He’s Lord of those to whom he actually addresses: the Christ so much invoked by new caste of "pharisees" back in the communities, where top of the class already claimed to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated in third generation assemblies, especially by their chiefs.

Church elders who were already annoyed at taking care of the little people, who on the other hand came to the threshold of the communities with the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these «last» the new prophets called by God to awaken the immobility situation (of bosses) - comparable to the same swampy reality of other religions of time.

Everywhere and even today some potentates discriminate and manipulate consciences in order to protect their world - by eliminating Jesus Present, who recurs in the small, innocent and transparent ones.

Veterans accustomed to directing do not notice that they are decreeing their own condemnation (v. 41).

Of course, Christ doesn’t intend to ridicule anyone: He wanted to lead people to ‘tell the truth’ about themselves.

In Gospel the behavior of the titled people doesn’t change. On the contrary, feeling unmasked gets worse it, and only the hesitation of losing face in public can restrain them (vv.45-46).

But now they know who they are - so much so that they are ashamed to openly plot.

Categories that are considered closer to Paradise - those who produce inedible grapes - excluded from the testimony of the Kingdom innervated by tinies’ crowd.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of inept settlers (v.43).

It’s «good news»: the Eternal one achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who should serve Him, and instead use Him.

In short, for Jesus the great enemy of God is expediency.

Even amidst ungenerous brutality and accusations of being deluded dreamers, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit are ready for succession.

An unstoppable course, sprinkled by the stream of blood of the prophets (v.46).

Outcasts, shunned, expelled, and to be crushed - but not locked into mental patterns: capable of giving free rein to regenerative energies.

Consciousness of the world, divorced from compromise.

[Friday 2nd wk. in Lent, March 6, 2026]

(Mt 21:33-43.45)

This is a continuing metaphor, rather than a parable; hence the fruit of post-Easter reflection - let us see why.

Christ introduces everyone to an adventurous, uncomfortable path, not without pitfalls that throw things off and destabilise - but it is the Way for each of us to recognise ourselves.

We would not otherwise approach the Source of perception, imagination, reality and creativity - virtues that are necessary for rebirth, even from global emergency.

Jesus uses the image of the Vineyard to describe the work of God and the response of men - first and foremost of spiritual leaders (v.23).

Ancient religious leaders were like this: hostile to divine action; equipped to appear, yet violent and sclerotic.

The leaders Jesus addresses follow the whole metaphor step by step - they seem to find themselves unequipped - and are only left speechless at the end.

Why does he address them imperatively: 'Listen' [which is not a simple invitation]?

Right from the start he speaks in a masterly tone. Why?

He is Lord of those he actually addresses: the Christ so much invoked by the new caste of 'Pharisees' back in their assemblies, where the top of the class were already claiming to manage the Vineyard in their own way.

In no uncertain terms, the parable denounces the abuse of authority perpetrated in the third generation fraternities, especially by their leaders.

Church elders who were already annoyed to deal with the petty people who came to the threshold of the communities in the hope of being welcomed.

Conversely, it was precisely these 'last ones' who were the new prophets called by God to awaken the situation of immobility (of the veterans) - comparable to the same swampy reality of other religions at the time.

Thus, we proceed to a possible identification:

The hedge or wall surrounding the Vineyard is the proposal God has revealed to protect us from other senseless and self-destructive models of life [non-Faith paradigms].

The crusher means: nothing was missing [the Lord took great care of it], and also the waiting for the time of joy, of the juice of love.

In short: excellent conditions and abundant result; maximum production of intoxication - one would expect. But...

The winegrowers are the constituted authorities. They have been given the task of placing us in the best position and in the right conditions for our growth and blossoming.

Indeed, under ideal conditions each one can produce the fruit of love that the 'master of the field' expects.

The two groups of envoys are prophets sent by the Father before and after the Babylonian exile - in vain - to call for concrete adherence, fidelity to the Covenant.

All ended badly, because the reference point of the devout people and the irresponsible leaders remained identical: appropriation.

Here are the different groups in power at the time of Jesus:

Temple workers [priests] managed tithes, specific taxes, offerings.

The high priest was chosen from among the members of the families of the aristocracy that flaunted the most power and wealth.

The Sadducees were precisely the aristocratic elite; for themselves secular, very wealthy. They willingly involved themselves in the Temple's commerce as well, and in the landed estates.

Pharisees were the leaders of popular religiosity, who advocated total respect for the Law, especially the rules of purity. And also that of the various Traditions, even oral.

Their ethical authority was based on exemplarity and a sense of sacred [and moralistic] separation. Exemplarity felt and recognised in every village in Palestine.

The 'Elders' were chiefs of the people (local, village or town authorities); descendants of the chiefs of the ancient tribes.

Scribes [doctors of the law] were those who, after a lifetime of studying the Word of God, were elevated to the rank of official theologians of the Sanhedrin.

Although divided into two sects - one favouring the Sadducees, the other the Pharisees - their prestige even managed to obscure the letter of the Torah. Indeed, in the event of a disagreement between the Law and their interpretation, it was the latter that was esteemed superior.

Jesus, on the other hand, discredited the learned, who willingly distorted and sophistrated the meaning of the sacred Scriptures - always to their own advantage.

He was well aware that his denunciation would cost him his life, because he unmasked the whole system of gains, balances and positions.

Yet he never backed down an inch.

Everywhere and even today, certain potentates discriminate and manipulate consciences to protect their commissions and their own farcical world of public and private relations.

In spite of all the polite and mannerist firebrands, often taking out the Present Jesus in the small, innocent and transparent. 

Conversely, the supreme stewards of the House of God must adopt an attitude of service to the Vineyard; they must not draw up their own life plans, to which everyone - including the Father - must adapt.

It is for this reason that the Son demanded to dismantle that structure: even to supplant the Temple with His living Person.

A real mortal threat to the system, which by now could not even stand the interference of God Himself.

But if it was irreverent to substitute the life of the people for the stone sanctuary, it also seemed sacrilegious to consider the Torah regime transitory.

The Pentateuch was the core of the identity of the 'chosen people'. This idea was interpreted with a rigid sense of permanence - although its practice did not bring happiness, but dissatisfaction.

Yet the veterans accustomed to pyramid situations - and to leadership - did not even realise that they were thus decreing their own doom (v.41).

Of course, Christ does not intend to ridicule anyone: He wants to bring people to question themselves, and tell the truth about themselves.

In the Gospel, the behaviour of the titled of official devotion does not change; on the contrary, feeling unmasked, it gets worse.

Only the qualms of losing face in public can restrain them (vv.45-46).

But now they know who they are, so much so that they are ashamed to plot openly.

The categories 'at the centre', who consider themselves closest to Heaven and therefore holders of power (which they demand for themselves), are assiduously those who produce inedible grapes.

Circles excluded from bearing witness to the Kingdom.

The aged forces only know how to oppose. Life-long leaders - pretentious gourds - always love leadership, and (too) their own interest, not that of the petty crowd.

Sadly, the gospel passage is a fresco of the entire history of salvation, where disdain not infrequently prevails - and it is relevant today.

There will inevitably be a new beginning, and the replacement of the inept settlers (v.43).

It is "glad tidings": the Eternal One achieves his purpose despite the repeated refusals of those who should represent him, and instead use him. Having no fruit of love to return.

In short, it is our story. An enigma of redemption, capable of taking on even violence and rebellion.

For Jesus, there is no privileged ethnicity or civilisation - because God's great enemy is not sin in the sense of imperfection, but convenience.

Convenience coupled with disinterest and (self-interested) contempt: a problem that returns - closing the story.

And yet, when the days of fervour fade and the situation comes to a standstill because of those who see election as a privilege rather than a service, new and more faithful Heralds of the Spirit ceaselessly arrive. Ready for the succession of minds and hearts, even amidst ungenerous brutalities and accusations of being deluded dreamers.

An unstoppable course, sprinkled by the prophets' stream of blood (v.46).

Outcasts, shunned, expelled and to be crushed - but not locked into outdated mental patterns: capable of giving free rein to regenerating energies.

World-consciousness, detached from compromise.

The [...] page of the Gospel according to Matthew, [proposes] to our liturgical assembly an evocative allegorical image of Sacred Scripture: the image of the vineyard which we have heard mentioned on the preceding Sundays. The initial passage of the Gospel account refers to the "canticle of the vineyard" which we find in Isaiah. This is a canticle set in the autumnal context of the grape harvest: a miniature masterpiece of Hebrew poetry which must have been very familiar to those listening to Jesus and from which, as from other references by the prophets (cf. Hos 10: 1; Jer 2: 21; Ez 17: 3-10; 19: 10-14; Ps 79: 9-17), it was easy to understand that the vineyard symbolized Israel. God bestowed the same care upon his vineyard, upon the People he had chosen, that a faithful husband lavishes upon his wife (cf. Ez 16: 1-14; Eph 5: 25-33).

Therefore the image of the vineyard, together with that of the wedding feast, describes the divine project of salvation and is presented as a moving allegory of God's Covenant with his People. In the Gospel, Jesus takes up the canticle of Isaiah but adapts it to his listeners and to the new period in salvation history. The emphasis is not so much on the vineyard as on the workers in it, from whom the landowner's "servants" ask for rent on his behalf. However, the servants are abused and even murdered. How is it possible not to think of the vicissitudes of the Chosen People and of the destiny reserved for the prophets sent by God? In the end, the owner of the vineyard makes a final attempt: he sends his own son, convinced that at least they will listen to him. Instead the opposite happens: the labourers in the vineyard murder him precisely because he is the landowner's son, that is, his heir, convinced that this will enable them to take possession of the vineyard more easily. We are therefore witnessing a leap in quality with regard to the accusation of the violation of social justice as it emerges from Isaiah's canticle. Here we clearly see that contempt for the master's order becomes contempt for the master: it is not mere disobedience to a divine precept, it is a true and proper rejection of God: the mystery of the Cross appears.

What the Gospel passage reports challenges our way of thinking and acting. It does not only speak of Christ's "hour", of the mystery of the Cross at that moment, but also of the presence of the Cross in all epochs. It challenges in a special way the people who have received the Gospel proclamation. If we look at history, we are often obliged to register the coldness and rebellion of inconsistent Christians. As a result of this, although God never failed to keep his promise of salvation, he often had to resort to punishment. In this context it comes naturally to think of the first proclamation of the Gospel from which sprang Christian communities that initially flourished but then disappeared and today are remembered only in history books. Might not the same thing happen in our time? Nations once rich in faith and vocations are now losing their identity under the harmful and destructive influence of a certain modern culture. There are some who, having decided that "God is dead", declare themselves to be "god", considering themselves the only architect of their own destiny, the absolute owner of the world. By ridding himself of God and not expecting salvation from him, man believes he can do as he pleases and that he can make himself the sole judge of himself and his actions. However, when man eliminates God from his horizon, declares God "dead", is he really happy? Does he really become freer? When men proclaim themselves the absolute proprietors of themselves and the sole masters of creation, can they truly build a society where freedom, justice and peace prevail? Does it not happen instead - as the daily news amply illustrates - that arbitrary power, selfish interests, injustice and exploitation and violence in all its forms are extended? In the end, man reaches the point of finding himself lonelier and society is more divided and bewildered.

Yet there is a promise in Jesus' words: the vineyard will not be destroyed. While the unfaithful labourers abandon their destiny, the owner of the vineyard does not lose interest in his vineyard and entrusts it to other faithful servants. This means that, although in certain regions faith is dwindling to the point of dying out, there will always be other peoples ready to accept it. For this very reason, while Jesus cites Psalm 118[117], "The stone which the builders rejected has become the cornerstone" (v. 22), he gives the assurance that his death will not mean God's defeat. After being killed, he will not remain in the tomb, on the contrary, precisely what seems to be a total defeat will mark the beginning of a definitive victory. His painful Passion and death on the Cross will be followed by the glory of his Resurrection. The vineyard, therefore, will continue to produce grapes and will be rented by the owner of the vineyard: "to other tenants who will give him the fruits in their seasons" (Mt 21: 41).

The image of the vineyard with its moral, doctrinal and spiritual implications was to recur in the discourse at the Last Supper when, taking his leave of the Apostles, the Lord said: "I am the true vine and my Father is the vinedresser. Every branch of mine that bears no fruit, he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes that it may bear more fruit" (Jn 15: 1-2). Thus, starting from the Paschal event, the history of salvation was to reach a decisive turning point and those "other tenants" were to play the lead as chosen shoots grafted on Christ, the true vine, and yield abundant fruits of eternal life (cf. Collect). We too are among these "tenants", grafted on Christ who desired to become the "true vine" himself. Let us pray the Lord that in the Eucharist he will give us his Blood, himself, that he will help us to "bear fruit" for eternal life and for our time.

The comforting message that we gather from these biblical texts is the certainty that evil and death do not have the last word but that it is Christ who wins in the end. Always! The Church never tires of proclaiming this Good News, as is also happening today, in this Basilica, dedicated to the Apostle to the Gentiles who was the first to spread the Gospel in vast regions of Asia Minor and Europe. We shall meaningfully renew this proclamation at the 12th General Ordinary Assembly of the Synod of Bishops whose theme is "The Word of God in the life and mission of the Church". I would like to greet here with cordial affection all of you, venerable Synod Fathers, and all those who are taking part in this meeting as experts, auditors and special guests. I am pleased also to welcome the Fraternal Delegates of other Churches and Ecclesial Communities. I extend to the Secretary General of the Synod of Bishops and his collaborators the expression of gratitude of us all for the hard work they have carried out in the past months, together with my good wishes for the efforts that await them in the coming weeks.

When God speaks, he always asks for a response. His saving action demands human cooperation; his love must be reciprocated. Dear brothers and sisters, may what the biblical text recounts about the vineyard never occur: "[he] looked for it to yield grapes but it yielded wild grapes" (Is 5: 2). The Word of God alone can profoundly change man's heart so it is important that individual believers and communities enter into ever increasing intimacy with his Word. The Synodal Assembly will focus attention on this fundamental truth for the life and mission of the Church. To draw nourishment from the Word of God is her first and fundamental task. In fact, if the Gospel proclamation is her raison d'être and mission, it is indispensable that the Church know and live what she proclaims, so that her preaching may be credible despite the weaknesses and poverty of the people of whom she is comprised. We know, furthermore, that the proclamation of the Word, at the school of Christ, has the Kingdom of God as its content (cf. Mk 1: 14-15, but the Kingdom of God is the very person of Jesus who, with his words and actions, offers salvation to people of every epoch. Interesting in this regard is St Jerome's reflection: "Whoever does not know Scripture does not know the power and wisdom of God, then ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ" (Prologue of the commentary on Isaiah: n. 1, CCL 73, 1).

In this Pauline Year we hear the cry of the Apostle to the Gentiles resounding with special urgency: "Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel!" (1 Cor 9: 16); a cry that becomes for every Christian a pressing invitation to serve Christ. "The harvest is plentiful" (Mt 9: 37) the Divine Teacher still repeats today: so many still do not know him and are awaiting the first proclamation of his Gospel; others, although they received a Christian formation, have become less enthusiastic and retain only a superficial contact with God's Word; yet others have drifted away from the practice of the faith and need a new evangelization. Then there are plenty of people of right understanding who ask themselves essential questions about the meaning of life and death, questions to which only Christ can give satisfactory answers. It is, therefore, becoming indispensable for Christians on every continent to be ready to reply to those who ask them to account for the hope that is in them (cf. 1 Pt 3: 15), joyfully proclaiming the Word of God and living the Gospel without compromises.

[Pope Benedict, opening homily XII Synod of Bishops 5 October 2008]

1. When a Christian, in unison with the voice of prayer in Israel, sings Psalm 117{118}, that we just heard, he feels within him a special thrill. In fact, he finds in this liturgical hymn two phrases that echo with a new meaning in the NT. The first is verse 22, "The stone rejected by the builders has become the corner-stone". The phrase is quoted by Jesus, who applies it to his mission of death and glory, after having told the parable of the murderous vinedressers (cf. Mt 21,42). The phrase is also recalled by Peter in the Acts of the Apostles: "This Jesus is the stone, rejected by you the builders, which has become the cornerstone. There is no salvation in anyone else nor is there any other name given to men under heaven by which we are to be saved" (Acts 4,11-12). St Cyril of Jerusalem comments: "We say the Lord Jesus Christ is only one because his sonship is one; only one we say so that you do not think that there is another ... In fact he called stone, not inanimate stone nor cut by human hands, but the cornerstone, because he who believes in him will not remain disappointed" (The Catecheses, English title of the Italian version of St Cyril's Catecheses, Le Catechesi, Rome, 1993, p. 312-313).

The second phrase that the NT takes from Psalm 117[118] is proclaimed by the crowd at the solemn Messianic entrance of Christ into Jersualem: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" (Mt 21,9; cf. Ps 117,26). The acclamation is framed by a Hosanna that takes up the Hebrew petition hoshiac na',"please, save us!"

2. The splendid Biblical hymn is placed at the heart of the small collection of psalms, 112[113] to 117[118], called the Passover Hallel, namely, the psalms of praise used in Hebrew worship for the Passover and the major solemnities of the liturgical year. The processional rite can be taken as the theme of Psalm 117[118] articulated with the chants by the soloist or choir, with the Holy City and its Temple as the background. A beautiful antiphon begins and ends the psalm:  "Praise the Lord for he is good, his mercy endures forever" (verses 1 and 29).

The word "mercy" translates the Hebrew word hesed, that designates the generous fidelity of God towards the covenanted and friendly people. Three categories of people are told to praise this fidelity:  all of Israel, the "house of Aaron", namely the priests, and those "who fear the Lord", a way of speaking that includes the faithful and the proselytes, namely, the members of other nations who desire to follow the law of the Lord (cf. verses 2-4).

3. The procession makes its way through the streets of Jerusalem, because the psalm speaks of the "tents of the righteous" (cf. v. 15). There is, however, a hymn of thanksgiving (cf. vv. 5-18) whose basic message is:  Even when we are in anguish, we must keep high the torch of confidence, because the powerful hand of the Lord leads his faithful people to victory over evil and to salvation.

The sacred poet uses strong and vivid images; he compares the cruel adversaries to a swarm of bees or to a column of flames that advances turning everything to ashes (cf. v.12). There is the vehement reaction of the just person, sustained by the Lord. He repeats three times "In the name of the Lord I cut them off" where the Hebrew verb refers to an intervention that destroys evil (cf. vv.10.11.12). Behind all of it, indeed, there is the powerful right hand of God, namely, his effective intervention, and certainly not the weak and uncertain hand of man. For this reason the joy of the victory over evil leads to a vibrant profession of faith:  "The Lord is my strength and my song, he has become my salvation" (v. 14).

4. The procession then arrives at the temple, at the "gates of justice" (v. 19), at the Holy Door of Zion. Here a second song of thanksgiving is sung, that begins with a dialogue between the congregation and the priests to be admitted to worship. "Open to me the gates of justice:  I will enter to give thanks to the Lord", the soloist says in the name of the congregation in procession:  "This is the gate of the Lord, the righteous shall enter through it" (v. 20), and others reply, probably the priests.

Once they enter, they begin the hymn of thanksgiving to the Lord, who in the Temple offers himself as the stable and secure "corner stone" on which to build the house of life (cf. Mt 7,24-25). A priestly blessing descends upon the faithful who have come into the temple to express their faith, to raise their prayer and to celebrate their worship.

5. The last scene that opens before our eyes is constituted by the joyful rite of sacred dances, accompanied by the festive waving of branches:  "Bind the festal procession with branches, up to the horns of the altar" (v. 27). The liturgy is a joyful, festive celebration, expression of the entire life that praises the Lord. The rite of the branches brings to mind the Jewish Feast of Booths, observed in memory of the pilgrimage of Israel through the desert, a solemnity in which there was a procession with palm, myrtle and willow branches.

This rite evoked by the Psalm is proposed to the Christian in Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, celebrated in the liturgy of Palm Sunday. Christ is acclaimed as the "Son of David" (cf. Mt 21,9) by the crowd, who, "having come for the feast ... took branches of palms and went out to greet him shouting:  Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the king of Israel" (Jn 12,12-13). At that festive celebration that is, however, the prelude to the hour of the Passion and Death of Jesus, the symbol of the cornerstone, proposed at the beginning, takes its full meaning, a glorious Easter meaning.

Psalm 117[118] encourages Christians to recognize in the Easter event of Jesus "the day that the Lord has made", on which "the stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone". With the psalm they can then sing with great thanksgiving:  " The Lord is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation" (v. 14); "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and exult in it" (v. 24).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 5 December 2001]

In today’s Gospel passage (cf. Mt 21:33-43) Jesus, foreseeing his passion and death, tells the parable of the murderous vintners, to admonish the chief priests and elders of the people who are about to take the wrong path. Indeed, they have bad intentions towards him and are seeking a way to eliminate him.

The allegorical story describes a landowner who, after having taken great care of his vineyard (cf. v. 33), had to depart and leave it in the hands of farmers. Then, at harvest time, he sends some servants to collect the fruit; but the tenants welcome the servants with a beating, and some even kill them. The householder sends other servants, more numerous, but they receive the same treatment (cf. vv. 34-36). The peak is reached when the landowner decides to send his son: the vinegrowers have no respect for him; on the contrary, they think that by eliminating him they can take over the vineyard, and so they kill him too (cf. vv. 37-39).

The image of the vineyard is clear: it represents the people whom the Lord has chosen and formed with such care; the servants sent by the landowner are the prophets, sent by God, while the son represents Jesus. And just as the prophets were rejected, so too Christ was rejected and killed.

At the end of the story, Jesus asks the leaders of the people: “When the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” (v. 40). And, caught up in the logic of the narrative, they deliver their own sentence: the householder, they say, will severely punish those wicked people and “let out the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the fruits in their seasons” (v. 41).

With this very harsh parable, Jesus confronts his interlocutors with their responsibility, and he does so with extreme clarity. But let us not think that this admonition applies only to those who rejected Jesus at that time. It applies to all times, including our own. Even today God awaits the fruits of his vineyard from those he has sent to work in it. All of us.

In any age, those who have authority, any authority, also in the Church, in the People of God, may be tempted to work in their own interests instead of those of God. And Jesus says that true authority is when one performs service; it is in serving, not exploiting others. The vineyard is the Lord’s, not ours. Authority is a service, and as such should be exercised for the good of all and for the dissemination of the Gospel. It is awful to see when people who have authority in the Church seek their own interests.

Saint Paul, in the second reading of today’s liturgy, tells us how to be good workers in the Lord’s vineyard: that which is true, noble, just, pure, lovely and honoured; that which is virtuous and praiseworthy, let all this be the daily object of our commitment (cf. Phil 4:8). I repeat: that which is true, noble, just, pure, lovely and honoured; that which is virtuous and praiseworthy, let all this be the daily object of our commitment. It is the attitude of authority and also of each one of us, because every one of us, even in a small, tiny way, has a certain authority. In this way we shall become a Church ever richer in the fruits of holiness; we shall give glory to the Father who loves us with infinite tenderness, to the Son who continues to give us salvation, and to the Spirit who opens our hearts and impels us towards the fullness of goodness.

Let us now turn to Mary Most Holy, spiritually united with the faithful gathered in the Shrine of Pompeii for the Supplication, and in the month of October let us renew our commitment to pray the Holy Rosary.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 4 October 2020]

External solution?

(Lk 16:19-31)

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

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

The position of the Lord is very very different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inextricably linked to the already dug abyss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Founding Eros that already here and now reverses situations.

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

External solution?

(Lk 16:19-31)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inextricably bound to the abysses already dug. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

How then not to sink into the abyss of insignificance?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Foundational Eros that already reverses situations here and now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 30 September 2007]