(Lk 9:22-25)

Yesterday we emphasised how the worm of vanity in the pursuit of others' esteem leads to hypocrisy and ostentation.

Today, too, the Word - a solemn and pressing call to a decisive choice - invites totality; to live Lent with uprightness, not exhibiting too much external ceremony.

We ask ourselves: What makes one intimate with the Father? Carrying the Cross - in the sense of being a devoted and obedient son? Is it necessary to renounce life, accepting the various evils?

No, communion with God follows from a freely made commitment. That scaffold is not a requirement of the Father who would like to be at least compensated by someone.

And no fatalism: it is not a matter of enduring life's inevitable setbacks.

It is not this that unites, it is not coping that binds the people of God who recognise themselves in the Crucified One.

There are not many paths to choose from, but only two: victory and revenge, or perception and gift.

Every moment is a time of decision. Models are no longer needed.

Man's authenticity is not his greatness, but fidelity in the love that he realises.

Such empathy and can place us on paths of persecution and derision, instead of accommodating or blatant results (on the safe and immediate).

But true humanity no longer needs to ascend, to transcend the limits of matter [dualist mysticism].

Nor do we need to identify ourselves - almost sacramentally - with the forces of deep but depersonalising cosmic processes [mystery religions].

We are not called to perfect ourselves through the observance of a law or traditions down to the minutiae [phariseeism].

Nor is our vocation to religiously escape the abyss of the world's misery, in the hope of a goal approaching to solve everything [Apocalypticism].

The Lord's Anointed was expected as sovereign, priest, thaumaturge, warrior, judge, prophet...

Jesus ascending Calvary is quite another paradigm: a different way of being and an entirely different Way.

To the title of Messiah, Luke prefers that of "Son of Man" (v.22): an expression with which the Master actually designated himself.

The Son of Man is the true and full development of the divine plan on humanity.

Incredibly, He does not feel hindered by frequenters of bad places, rather by the habitués of the sacred precincts.

In the Gospels, the growth and humanisation of the people is not thwarted by sinners, but by those who would have the ministry of making the Face of God known to all.

Therefore, the character of the apostle is not identified with celebrities and social figures. Conversely, with the life of Jesus of Nazareth - the public rebel against official authorities, and condemned.

Here, moving downwards, we meet God.

That of the cross was in fact the torture imposed on marginalised criminals. In this lies the 'denial of self' (v.23), which unfortunately in the history of spirituality has undergone very bad interpretations.

The believer is not recognised by heroic and magnificent deeds, or asceticism; nor by excellence and visibility of office, or charisma and credit, weight and prestige - but by social choice, which brings discredit to one's reputation.

The missionary is not singled out because of extraordinary qualities, but because of smallness.

He who only appreciates great things - even astounding and blatant from a "spiritual" point of view - loves strength. And they do not build the new kingdom.

A comparison of the parallel texts in the Greek language (e.g.) of Mk 8:34; Mt 10:38; Lk 9:23 and 14:27 [Jn 12:26] gives insight into the meaning of "taking up" or "lifting up the cross" for a disciple who relives Christ and expands Him in human history.

God does not give any cross, nor are children called to "bear" it, or even "offer" it!

The Cross is to be actively taken up, for the friend of Jesus stakes his honour on it.

The eminent and crystal-clear Source, the intimate life-wave of its founding Eros, allows the total gift to be attained even under the trait of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man had to carry the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most harrowing moment, because it was one of utmost loneliness and perceived failure.

The hapless and already shamed man proceeded to the place of execution passing between two wings of the crowd who, out of religious duty, mocked and battered the wretch - deemed cursed by God.

Jesus does not propose the Cross in the corrupt sense of a necessary endurance of life's inevitable adversities, which then through asceticism chisels out souls more capable of sketching... [today we say: resilient].

Compared to the usual tirades on healthy discipline - exterior and interior - the same for everyone (and useful only to keep the situation good, of privilege) Lk is conversely suggesting a much more radical behaviour.

The Lord proposes an asceticism totally different from that of the religions - even inverted. 

The believer renounces reputation. It is the essential, diriment cue of the character of the Faith.

He who is tied to his good reputation, to the roles, to the character to play, to the task, to the level he has acquired, will never resemble the Lord.

Neither will he who does not dilute the tribal dimension of 'family' interest.

From the earliest times, the proclamation of the authentic Messiah created divisions: the sword of his Person separated each person's affair from the world of values of the clan to which he belonged or from the idea of respectability, even national respectability.

Today, the same thing happens where someone proclaims the Gospel as it is, and attempts to renew the jammed mechanisms of the habitual, outdated and faux-blue-blooded institution on the ground.

Carrying the cross of consequent mockery.

A clean break and cut with the criteria of greatness and success, for the new, persecuted Unity: the one that is the crossroads of Truth without duplicity.

Try it to believe.

It sounds like a meaningless dream, but this is what unites the Church to her Lord: a crucifying path, where one gains what one loses - first and foremost in consideration.

To internalise and live the message:

What changes do you feel as your Calling?

Does reputation and opinion in the community favour or block you? For what reason?

Is your 'family' closed in on itself or does it facilitate the opening of horizons?

Does this attitude of the Christians of that time apply also to us who are Christians today? Yes, it does, we too need a relationship that sustains us, that gives direction and content to our lives. We too need access to the Risen one, who sustains us through and beyond death. We need this encounter which brings us together, which gives us space for freedom, which lets us see beyond the bustle of everyday life to God’s creative love, from which we come and towards which we are travelling.

Of course, if we listen to today’s Gospel, if we listen to what the Lord is saying to us, it frightens us: “Whoever of you does not renounce all that he has and all links with his family cannot be my disciple.” We would like to object: What are you saying, Lord? Isn’t the family just what the world needs? Doesn’t it need the love of father and mother, the love between parents and children, between husband and wife? Don’t we need love for life, the joy of life? And don’t we also need people who invest in the good things of this world and build up the earth we have received, so that everyone can share in its gifts? Isn’t the development of the earth and its goods another charge laid upon us? If we listen to the Lord more closely, and above all if we listen to him in the context of everything he is saying to us, then we understand that Jesus does not demand the same from everyone. Each person has a specific task, to each is assigned a particular way of discipleship. In today’s Gospel, Jesus is speaking directly of the specific vocation of the Twelve, a vocation not shared by the many who accompanied Jesus on his journey to Jerusalem. The Twelve must first of all overcome the scandal of the Cross, and then they must be prepared truly to leave everything behind; they must be prepared to assume the seemingly absurd task of travelling to the ends of the earth and, with their minimal education, proclaiming the Gospel of Jesus Christ to a world filled with claims to erudition and with real or apparent education – and naturally also to the poor and the simple. They must themselves be prepared to suffer martyrdom in the course of their journey into the vast world, and thus to bear witness to the Gospel of the Crucified and Risen Lord. If Jesus’s words on this journey to Jerusalem, on which a great crowd accompanies him, are addressed in the first instance to the Twelve, his call naturally extends beyond the historical moment into all subsequent centuries. He calls people of all times to count exclusively on him, to leave everything else behind, so as to be totally available for him, and hence totally available for others: to create oases of selfless love in a world where so often only power and wealth seem to count for anything. Let us thank the Lord for giving us men and women in every century who have left all else behind for his sake, and have thus become radiant signs of his love. We need only think of people like Benedict and Scholastica, Francis and Clare of Assisi, Elizabeth of Hungary and Hedwig of Silesia, Ignatius of Loyola, Teresa of Avila, and in our own day, Mother Teresa and Padre Pio. With their whole lives, these people have become a living interpretation of Jesus’s teaching, which through their lives becomes close and intelligible to us. Let us ask the Lord to grant to people in our own day the courage to leave everything behind and so to be available to everyone.

Yet if we now turn once more to the Gospel, we realize that the Lord is not speaking merely of a few individuals and their specific task; the essence of what he says applies to everyone. The heart of the matter he expresses elsewhere in these words: “For whoever would save his life will lose it; and whoever loses his life for my sake, he will save it. For what does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses or forfeits himself?” (Lk 9:24f.). Whoever wants to keep his life just for himself will lose it. Only by giving ourselves do we receive our life. In other words: only the one who loves discovers life. And love always demands going out of oneself, it always demands leaving oneself. Anyone who looks just to himself, who wants the other only for himself, will lose both himself and the other. Without this profound losing of oneself, there is no life. The restless craving for life, so widespread among people today, leads to the barrenness of a lost life. “Whoever loses his life for my sake … ”, says the Lord: a radical letting-go of our self is only possible if in the process we end up, not by falling into the void, but into the hands of Love eternal. Only the love of God, who loses himself for us and gives himself to us, makes it possible for us also to become free, to let go, and so truly to find life. This is the heart of what the Lord wants to say to us in the seemingly hard words of this Sunday’s Gospel. With his teaching he gives us the certainty that we can build on his love, the love of the incarnate God. Recognition of this is the wisdom of which today’s reading speaks to us. Once again, we find that all the world’s learning profits us nothing unless we learn to live, unless we discover what truly matters in life.

[Pope Benedict, homily Vienna 9 September 2007]

We adore you O Christ and we praise you, for by your cross you have redeemed the world. Alleluia.

Dear brothers and sisters.

1. As representatives of the people of God in the Archdiocese of Halifax, Cap Breton, all of Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island, you are gathered in this acclamation of the liturgy with Archbishop Hayes, with the other bishops and with the Church throughout the world. The Catholic Church celebrates today the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross of Christ. As the crucified Christ is lifted up by faith into the hearts of all who believe, so he lifts up those same hearts with a hope that cannot be destroyed. For the cross is the sign of redemption, and in redemption is contained the promise of resurrection and the beginning of new life: the lifting up of human hearts.

At the beginning of my office in the See of St Peter I sought to proclaim this truth with the encyclical Redemptor Hominis. In this same truth I wish today to be united with all of you in adoration of the cross of Christ:

"Do not forget the works of God" (cf. Ps 78:7).

2. To conform ourselves to the acclamation of today's liturgy, let us carefully follow the path traced by these holy words in which the mystery of the Exaltation of the Cross is announced to us.

Firstly, in these words is contained the meaning of the Old Testament. According to St Augustine, the Old Testament contains what is fully revealed in the new. Here we have the image of the bronze serpent to which Jesus referred in his conversation with Nicodemus. The Lord himself revealed the meaning of this image by saying: "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the son of man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life" (John 3: 14-15).

During the journey of the people of Israel from Egypt to the Promised Land - because the people complained - God sent an invasion of poisonous snakes because of which many perished. When the survivors realised their guilt, they asked Moses to intercede with God: "Pray to the Lord to drive these serpents away from us" (Nm 21:7).

Moses prayed and received this command from the Lord: "Make yourself a snake and put it on a pole. Whoever after being bitten shall look upon it and remain alive" (Nm 21:8). Moses obeyed the order. The bronze snake placed on the pole represented salvation from death for all those who were bitten by snakes.

In the book of Genesis, the serpent was the symbol of the evil spirit. But now, by a surprising inversion, the bronze serpent hoisted in the desert becomes a representation of Christ, hoisted on the cross.

The feast of the Exaltation of the Cross recalls to our minds, and in a way, makes present, the elevation of Christ on the cross. The feast is the elevation of the redeeming Christ: whoever believes in the crucified Christ will have eternal life.

The elevation of Christ on the cross constitutes the beginning of the elevation of humanity through the cross. And the ultimate fulfilment of the elevation is eternal life.

3. This Old Testament event is recalled in the central theme of St John's Gospel.

Why is the cross and the crucified Christ the door to eternal life?

Because in him - in the crucified Christ - God's love for the world, for man, is manifested in its fullness.

In the same conversation with Nicodemus Christ says: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world but that the world might be saved through him (Jn 3:16-17).

The salvation of the Son of God through his elevation on the cross has its eternal source in love. It is the love of the Father who sends the Son; he offers his Son for the salvation of the world. At the same time it is the love of the Son who does not 'judge' the world, but sacrifices himself for love of the Father and for the salvation of the world. By giving himself to the Father through the sacrifice of the cross, he offers himself at the same time to the world: to each individual person and to the whole of humanity.

The cross contains within itself the mystery of salvation, because in the cross love is lifted up. This means the elevation of love to the highest point in world history: in the cross, love is sublimated and the cross is at the same time sublimated through love. And from the height of the cross, love descends to us. Yes: "The cross is the deepest stooping of divinity upon man. The cross is like a touch of eternal love on the most painful wounds of man's earthly existence" (Ioannis Pauli PP. II, Dives in Misericordia, 8).

4. To the Gospel of John, the liturgy of today's feast day adds the presentation made by Paul in his letter to the Philippians. The apostle speaks of an emptying of Christ through the cross; and at the same time of the elevation of Christ above all things; and this also had its beginning in the cross itself:

"Jesus Christ . . . stripped himself by assuming the condition of a servant and becoming similar to men, and having appeared in human form, he humbled himself even more by becoming obedient unto death, and death on a cross. For this reason God exalted him and gave him a name that is above every other name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (Phil 2:6-11).

The cross is the sign of Christ's deepest humiliation. In the eyes of the people of that time, it was the sign of an infamous death. Only slaves could be punished with such a death, not free men. Christ, on the other hand, willingly accepts this death, death on the cross. Yet this death becomes the principle of the resurrection. In the resurrection, the crucified servant of Yahweh is lifted up: he is lifted up over all creation.

At the same time, the cross is also lifted up. It ceases to be the sign of an infamous death and becomes the sign of resurrection, that is, of life. Through the sign of the cross, it is not the servant or the slave who speaks, but the Lord of all creation.

5. These three elements of today's liturgy, the Old Testament, the Christological hymn of Paul and the Gospel of John, together form the great richness of the mystery of the triumph of the cross.

As we are immersed in this mystery with the Church, which throughout the world today celebrates the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, I wish to share with you, in a special way, its riches, dear brothers and sisters of the Archdiocese of Halifax, dear people of Nova Scotia, Edward Island and all of Canada.

Yes, I wish to share with you all the riches of that holy cross - which, as the banner of salvation - was planted on your soil 450 years ago. Since then the cross has triumphed in this land and, through the collaboration of thousands of Canadians, the message of deliverance and salvation of the cross has been spread to the ends of the earth.

6. At the same time I wish to pay tribute to the missionary contribution of the sons and daughters of Canada who have given their lives in this way "that the word of the Lord may spread, and be glorified as it is also among you" (2 Thess 3:1). I pay homage to the faith and love that motivated them, and to the power of the cross that gave them the strength to go forth and fulfil Christ's command: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit" (Mt 28:20).

And in paying homage to your missionaries, I likewise pay homage to the communities throughout the world that have welcomed their message and marked their graves with the cross of Christ. The Church is grateful for the hospitality accorded them a burial place, from where they await the final exaltation of the holy cross in the glory of resurrection and eternal life.

I express deep gratitude for the zeal of the Church in Canada and I thank you for your prayers, contributions and various activities through which you support the missionary cause. In particular, I thank you for your generosity towards the Holy See's mission of helping societies.

7. Evangelization remains forever the sacred heritage of Canada, which truly has a glorious history of missionary activity at home and abroad. Evangelisation must continue to be exercised through personal commitment, preaching hope in the promises of Jesus and through the proclamation of fraternal love. It will always be connected with the planting and building of the Church and will have a profound relationship with development and freedom as an expression of human progress. At the heart of this message, however, is an explicit proclamation of salvation in Jesus Christ, that salvation brought about by the cross. Here are the words of Paul VI: "Evangelisation will always contain - even as the basis, centre and summit of its dynamism - a clear proclamation that, in Jesus Christ, the Son of God made man, dead and risen, salvation is offered to every man, as God's own gift of grace and mercy" (Pauli VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, 27).

The Church in Canada will be itself if it proclaims among all its members, in word and deed, the exaltation of the cross, and if, at home and abroad, it is an evangelising Church.

Although these words come from me, there is another who speaks to the hearts of young people everywhere. It is the Holy Spirit himself, and it is he who presses upon each one of us, as a member of Christ, to lead us to embrace and bring the good news of God's love. But to some the Holy Spirit is proposing the command of Jesus in its specific missionary form: go and recruit disciples from all nations. Before the whole Church, I, John Paul II, once again proclaim the absolute value of the missionary vocation. And I assure all those called to ecclesiastical and religious life that our Lord Jesus Christ is ready to accept and make fruitful the special sacrifice of their lives, in celibacy, for the exaltation of the cross.

8. Today the Church, in proclaiming the Gospel, relives in a certain way the whole period that begins on Ash Wednesday, reaches its climax during Holy Week and at Easter, and continues in the following weeks until Pentecost. The feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross is like the compendium of the entire Paschal Mystery of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The cross is glorious because on it Christ has lifted himself up. Through it, Christ has elevated man. On the cross, every man is truly elevated to his full dignity, to the dignity of his ultimate end in God.

Through the cross, moreover, the power of love is revealed that elevates man, that exalts him.

Truly the whole of God's plan for the Christian life is condensed here in a wonderful way: God's plan and its meaning! Let us adhere to God's plan and its meaning! Let us rediscover the place of the cross in our lives and in our society.

Let us speak of the cross in a special way to all those who suffer, and convey its message of hope to young people. Let us continue to proclaim its saving power to the ends of the earth: "Exaltatio Crucis!": the glory of the holy cross!

Brothers and sisters: "Never forget the works of the Lord"! Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, Homily Halifax (Canada) 14 September 1984]

After concluding the dialogue with the Apostles, Jesus addressed everyone, saying: “If anyone wants to come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me” (v. 23). This is not an ornamental cross or an ideological cross, but it is the cross of life, the cross of one’s duty, the cross of making sacrifices for others with love — for parents, for children, for the family, for friends, and even for enemies — the cross of being ready to be in solidarity with the poor, to strive for justice and peace. In assuming this attitude, these crosses, we always lose something. We must never forget that “whoever loses his life [for Christ] will save it” (v. 24). It is losing in order to win. Let us remember all of our brothers and sisters who still put these words of Jesus into practice today, offering their time, their work, their efforts and even their lives so as to never deny their faith in Christ. Jesus, through His Holy Spirit, gives us the strength to move forward along the path of faith and of witness: doing exactly what we believe; not saying one thing and doing another. On this path Our Lady is always near to us: let us allow her to hold our hand when we are going through the darkest and most difficult moments.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 19 June 2016]

8th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  March 2nd, 2025

 God bless us and may the Virgin protect us!

*First Reading from the Book of Sirach (27:4-7)

 This is a book of the Bible that has had a rather eventful journey. To begin with, it bears three names: Ben Sira the Wise, Sirach, and Ecclesiasticus. Sirach or Ben Sira are two similar names, both related to his family name. "Ben" means "son of", so the author is the son of Sira. At the end of the book, he signs himself 'Jesus, son of Sira', which offers a further indication, since Jesus is a typically Jewish name. It is therefore a Jew from Jerusalem writing in Hebrew, and the title 'the Wise' makes it clear that this is neither a historical nor a prophetic book, but one of those books called 'sapiential'. It is called Ecclesiastical because in the first centuries of Christianity, the Church made the newly baptised read this book to complete their moral education. The book was written by Ben Sira in Jerusalem in Hebrew around 180 B.C., translated into Greek some fifty years later, around 130 B.C. by his own nephew in Alexandria. In the Bible, Sirach occupies a special place: it belongs to the books called 'deuterocanonical'. In fact, when at the end of the first century A.D. the doctors of the law definitively established the official list of writings considered part of the Bible, not all the books circulating in Israel were included. Some texts were recognised by all as the Word of God - for example, the Book of Genesis or Exodus. But for some more recent texts, the question remained open. Sirach was among them and was eventually excluded because to enter the official canon of the Hebrew Bible, a book had to be written in Hebrew and written in the land of Israel. But at the time the canon was established (late 1st century AD), the Hebrew original of Sirach was lost and only the Greek translation circulated in Alexandria. For this reason, the book was not accepted by the Jewish communities in the land of Israel. However, in the Jewish communities of the diaspora (especially in Alexandria), it was already considered part of the Bible, so it continued to be recognised.

The Christian community, on the other hand, received it through the Greek-speaking communities, and thus Sirach became part of the Christian biblical canon.  The author, Ben Sira, may have founded a school of wisdom in Jerusalem and this is deduced from the last chapters of the book, which appear to be a collection of teachings for young Jewish students, apprentice philosophers, in Jerusalem around 180 BC.  

Jerusalem at that time was under Greek rule, but the occupation was relatively liberal and peaceful as persecution began later, under Antiochus Epiphanes, around 165 BC. However, although the Greek power respected the Jewish religion, the contact between the two cultures endangered the purity of the faith.

This excessive cultural openness could lead to dangerous syncretism, a problem similar to that of our time: we live in an age of tolerance that can easily turn into religious indifference. Is it not true that today we are like in a supermarket of ideas and values, where everyone takes what they prefer and this even seems logical and to be accepted as the best choice?  One of Ben Sira's goals was to convey the Jewish faith in its integrity, in particular the love for God's Law (Torah). According to him, true wisdom resided in the Law of Israel. Israel had to preserve its identity and faith in order to keep alive the teaching of the Fathers in faith and purity of customs, and these were considered to be the fundamental principles for the survival of the chosen people. 

Coming to the content, the book is like a collection of sayings and proverbs that are interesting but not always immediately understandable to us, because they use images and sayings belonging to another culture. In today's text, Ben Sira uses three images that were very common at the time. If gold is passed through a sieve, the slag is evident; when a pot is baked in the oven, one can immediately see if it has been well worked, and a healthy tree produces good fruit. So then, just as the sieve separates the gold from the impurities, the fire of the oven reveals the qualities of the pot and from the fruit we can tell whether the tree is healthy or diseased, so our words reveal the true nature of our heart because only a good heart will speak good words. About two hundred years later, Jesus teaches the same thing as we read in this Sunday's gospel: "The good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; the evil man out of his evil treasure brings forth evil: for his mouth expresses that which out of his heart overflows" (Lk 6:45). Our words are the mirror of our heart.

*Responsorial Psalm (91 (92), 2-3. 13-14. 15-16)

Israel accused God of deception in the Sinai desert when dehydration threatened men and animals: the famous episode of Massa and Meriba (Ex 17:1-7).  God, however, proved greater than the wrath of his people: he caused water to spring from a rock. Since then, God has been called our rock as a reminder of his faithfulness, steadier than all the suspicions of the people. From this rock Israel drew the water of its survival... but more importantly, over the centuries, it became the source of its faith and trust. This concept is expressed at the end of the psalm: 'to proclaim how righteous is the Lord, my rock'. The reference to the rock recalls the experience of the desert and the faithfulness of God, stronger than any rebellion. The expression "your love and your faithfulness" (v. 3) also recalls the experience of the desert: they are the words that God himself used to reveal himself to his people: "The Lord God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, rich in faithfulness and loyalty..." an expression taken up many times in the Bible, especially in the Psalms, as a sign of the Covenant between God and his people: "God of love and faithfulness, slow to anger and rich in mercy" (Ex 34:6).  The episode of Massa and Meriba - the trial in the wilderness, the people's suspicion, God's intervention - was repeated so often that Israel ended up realising that it was a constant risk: man is always tempted to be suspicious of God when things do not go as he wishes. The Garden of Eden story helps to understand this important lesson: the cunning serpent manages to convince the progenitors that it is God who is deceiving them. In fact, he misrepresents God's thinking by claiming that he forbids them the best fruits under the guise of protecting them when in fact it is the opposite and Adam and Eve allow themselves to be deceived. Unfortunately, it is a story that repeats itself throughout history and how is it possible to avoid demonic deception? This psalm helps us by suggesting that we should have confidence: "It is good to give thanks to the Lord and to sing to your name, O Most High, to proclaim in the morning your love, your faithfulness through the night. It is indeed good for us to praise the Lord and sing to his name, and Israel understood that praising, singing to God is good for man himself. St Augustine said it clearly: "Everything that man does for God, benefits man and not God." Singing for God, opening our eyes to his love and faithfulness, day and night, protects us from the wiles of the serpent. In this psalm, the expression "it is good" corresponds to the Hebrew term "tôv", the same used to say "good to eat", but to know it, one must have experienced it, and that is why the psalm adds in verse 7 (which we do not read today): "The foolish man does not know them and the foolish man does not understand", but the believer knows "how righteous is the Lord, my rock: in him there is no wickedness".  Only an unshakeable trust in God's love can illuminate man's life in all circumstances, while distrust and suspicion completely distort our view of reality. To be suspicious of God is a deadly trap. He who trusts in God is like a tree that is always green, always maintaining its sap and freshness (cf. Psalm 1). Jesus spoke of "living water" taking up an image familiar to the people of the time. Not only is it good for ourselves to praise and sing God's love, but it is also good for others to hear it from us. For this purpose, the psalm repeats at the beginning and end: 'It is good to give thanks to the Lord and to sing to your name, O Most High, and to proclaim your love'. "To proclaim" means to proclaim to others, to unbelievers: once again, Israel recalls its mission as a witness to God's love for all men. To conclude, I note that this psalm bears a heading: 'Psalm for the Sabbath day', the day par excellence on which God's love and faithfulness are sung. One could make this psalm the psalm for Sunday, because for us Sunday is the celebration of God's love and faithfulness which in Jesus Christ have been manifested in a definitive way. 

*Second Reading from the First Letter of St Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (15:54-58)

 For several weeks now we have been reading chapter 15 of Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, which is a long reflection on the Resurrection. Today Paul concludes his meditation with a cry of triumph: 'Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ' (v 57). It is the victory of the Resurrection because, as he writes, what is corruptible in us will become incorruptible, what is mortal will clothe immortality (v 53): immortality, incorruptibility are God's prerogatives. Only in this way will we become in the image and likeness of God, according to the original plan announced and realised throughout the entire itinerary of the Bible, with humanity's many failures and God's continuous interventions to save his plan of love. It is the plan of salvation: that is, God saves us in order to be truly happy and accomplishes it through various stages that the letter to the Ephesians summarises as follows: "making known to us the mystery of his will, according to the kindness which in him he had purposed for the government of the fullness of time: to bring all things, those in heaven and those on earth, back to Christ, the one head". (Eph 1:9-10). In creating humanity, the Lord had the plan to make it happy, united, filled with the Spirit of God, admitted to share in the life of the Trinity. A plan that has never failed and subsists forever because the designs of God's heart endure from generation to generation (cf. Ps 32/33). This is noted by the prophet Isaiah: "My plan shall endure and all that pleases me I will fulfil" (Is 46:1) and also Jeremiah: "I know the plans I have made for you - the Lord's oracle - plans of prosperity and not of misfortune: I will give you a future and a hope" (Jer 29:11). Human history therefore has meaning, significance and direction. That is, we know where we are going and the years do not all follow one another in the same way, because God has a project, a definite plan. We are oriented towards the future and we wait for this plan to be fulfilled by praying with our Father, that his kingdom come and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven. However, history testifies that humanity is falling short of this plan and people do not seem to cooperate. God respects our freedom and we often seem unwilling to listen to God's voice because it is a project that exceeds our rational perspectives. But why wonder? St Paul says that this project - he calls it the mystery of God's will - exceeds us and is unthinkable for us. Humanity, however, has two choices: accept the project and strive to advance it, or reject it and look elsewhere for our own happiness. Adam is the example of one who refuses and takes another direction, to his own detriment. God, however, remains patient and will save his project by not allowing himself to be discouraged by man's ill will because no one and nothing can extinguish the fire of God's love for us. We read in the Song of Songs that "Great waters could not quench Love and rivers would not submerge it" (Song 8:6-7a). Therein lies our hope, which Paul vigorously proclaims: "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?". It is certainly not biological death that separates us from him and our brothers, for we shall rise again, but spiritual death, the consequence of sin. Yet sin too is defeated by Jesus Christ: henceforth, grafted into the risen Christ, we can live like him and with him win the game of love. Indeed, Paul affirms that the victory is already won: contrary to what it seems, death and sin are the great losers and God's plan is saved: Jesus, with the forgiveness given to all, frees us from our sins and, if we want, the door is open to the Holy Spirit. We can then live the love and fraternity for which we are created. St Paul's cry of triumph resounds in us: "Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" All that remains is for us to continue in the commitment of the struggle with Christ: "Therefore, my beloved brethren, remain steadfast and unshakable, making ever greater progress in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labour is not in vain in the Lord". 

*From the Gospel according to Saint Luke (6:39-45)

 We find here several instructions of Jesus that are like warnings concerning relationships within the Christian community, recommendations that are also present in the gospels of Matthew and John although in no particular order and proclaimed in different contexts. St Luke grouped them here because he probably saw a link between them and it is precisely this link that we seek to understand together. To better proceed we divide the text into two parts: the first is a reflection on the gaze, while the second is the metaphor of the tree and the fruit. In the first part, Jesus develops the theme of the gaze and begins with an observation: a blind man cannot guide another blind man, and the message is clear: we must be very careful because when we act as guides, we must not forget that we are blind from birth. The apologue of the mote and the beam goes in this direction since with a beam in one's eye, one is truly blind and cannot claim to cure the blindness of others. Between these two observations, Luke inserts a phrase that at first sight seems enigmatic: 'A disciple is no more than the teacher; but everyone who is well prepared will be like his teacher'. The preparation Jesus speaks of is, in a sense, the healing of us who are blind. It is Luke himself who notes that the disciples of Emmaus only began to see clearly when "Jesus opened their minds to the understanding of the Scriptures" (Lk 24:45). Since Jesus came into the world to open the eyes of the blind, his disciples, healed by him from their blindness, also have the mission to bring the light of revelation to the world. What the prophet Isaiah said about the servant of God, in the so-called servant songs, is true for Jesus Christ, but also for his disciples: "I have destined you to be the light of the nations, to open the eyes of the blind, to free from prison the captive and from prison those who dwell in darkness" (Is 42:6-7). This is a very interesting mission, which we can only cope with by always remaining under the light of the Master and letting him heal our blindness. The evangelist then moves without transition to the metaphor of the tree and the fruit, which suggests that the theme is still the same: the true disciple, who allows himself to be enlightened by Jesus Christ, bears good fruit, but he who, on the contrary, does not allow Jesus Christ to enlighten him, remains in his blindness and produces bad fruit. It is now necessary to understand what fruits are involved. Taking into account that the text is after an entire discourse of Jesus on mutual love, we can understand that the fruits are related to our behaviour. The guiding rule is "Be merciful as your Father is merciful" (Luke 6:36).  It was not difficult for Jesus' contemporaries to understand this language: they knew that the Father expects fruits of justice and mercy from us, which can be both actions and words because "the mouth speaks from the fullness of the heart" (Lk 6:45). In the first reading we read that the fruit manifests the quality of the tree; in the same way the word reveals the feelings and one should not praise anyone before he has spoken, because it is precisely his word that allows one to judge him. It is truly extraordinary how in a few words Luke has developed the whole Christian mystery: when we allow ourselves to be formed by Christ we are transformed in our whole being: in our gaze, behaviour and language. A teaching that returns often in the New Testament as, for example, in the Letter to the Philippians: "You shine like stars in the world, holding fast the word of life" (Phil 2:15-16), or in the Letter to the Ephesians: "Once you were darkness, now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light. The fruit of light consists in all goodness and righteousness and truth" (Eph 5:8). The first step is to learn to look at others as God looks at them: with a gaze that does not judge, that does not condemn, that does not take pleasure in pointing out a speck in the other's eye, that is, in noticing something really tiny. Just as the straw is blown away by the wind and therefore without depth and importance, so too must the faults of others be counted. If Jesus does not give them importance, the disciple well trained in his school will be like his master. This sentence is followed by the whole discourse on God's mercy and our vocation to be like him, a very ambitious life programme: love your enemies, be merciful, do not judge, do not condemn because your Father is merciful and we are called to be his image in the world. Jesus concludes thus: the mouth of the disciple expresses that which overflows from the heart. To become God's image, the secret is to immerse ourselves in his Word.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Short Commentary:

*First Reading from the Book of Sirach (27:4-7)

 This is a book of the Bible that has had a rather eventful journey. To begin with, it bears three names: Ben Sira the Wise, Sirach, and Ecclesiasticus. Sirach or Ben Sira are two similar names, both related to his family name. "Ben" means "son of", so the author is the son of Sira. At the end of the book, he signs himself 'Jesus, son of Sira', which offers a further indication, since Jesus is a typically Jewish name. It is therefore a Jew from Jerusalem writing in Hebrew, and the title 'the Wise' makes it clear that this is neither a historical nor a prophetic book, but one of those books called 'sapiential'. It is called Ecclesiastical because in the first centuries of Christianity, the Church made the newly baptised read this book to complete their moral education. The book was written by Ben Sira in Jerusalem in Hebrew around 180 B.C., translated into Greek some fifty years later, around 130 B.C. by his own nephew in Alexandria. In the Bible, Sirach occupies a special place: it belongs to the books called 'deuterocanonical'. In fact, when at the end of the first century A.D. the doctors of the law definitively fixed the official list of writings considered part of the Bible, not all the books that circulated in Israel were included. Some texts were recognised by all as the Word of God - for example, the Book of Genesis or Exodus. But for some more recent texts, the question remained open. Sirach was among them and was eventually excluded because to enter the official canon of the Hebrew Bible, a book had to be written in Hebrew and written in the land of Israel. But at the time the canon was established (late 1st century AD), the Hebrew original of Sirach was lost and only the Greek translation circulated in Alexandria. For this reason, the book was not accepted by the Jewish communities in the land of Israel. However, in the Jewish communities of the diaspora (especially in Alexandria), it was already considered part of the Bible, so it continued to be recognised. The Christian community, on the other hand, received it through the Greek-speaking communities, and thus Sirach became part of the Christian biblical canon. 

Turning to the content, the book is like a collection of maxims and proverbs using images and sayings belonging to another culture. In today's text, Ben Sira uses three images that were very common at the time. If gold is passed through a sieve, the slag is evident; when a pot is baked in the oven, one can see at once whether it has been well worked, and a healthy tree produces good fruit. So then, just as the sieve separates the gold from the impurities, the fire of the oven reveals the qualities of the pot and from the fruit one can tell whether the tree is healthy or diseased, so our words reveal the true nature of our heart because only a good heart will speak good words. Jesus teaches the same thing as we read in this Sunday's gospel: "The good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good; the evil man out of his evil treasure brings forth evil: for his mouth expresses that which out of his heart overflows" (Lk 6:45). Our words are the mirror of our heart.

*Responsorial Psalm (91 (92), 2-3. 13-14. 15-16)

Israel accused God of deception in the Sinai desert when dehydration threatened men and animals: the famous episode of Massa and Meriba (Ex 17:1-7).  God, however, proved greater than the wrath of his people: he caused water to spring from a rock. Since then, God has been called our rock as a reminder of his faithfulness, steadier than all the suspicions of the people. From this rock Israel drew the water of its survival... but more importantly, over the centuries, it became the source of its faith and trust. This concept is expressed at the end of the psalm: 'to proclaim how righteous is the Lord, my rock'. In the Garden of Eden story, the cunning serpent manages to convince the progenitors that it is God who is deceiving them. In fact, he misrepresents God's thinking by claiming that he forbids them the best fruits under the guise of protecting them when in fact it is the opposite and Adam and Eve allow themselves to be deceived. Unfortunately, it is a story that repeats itself throughout history and how is it possible to avoid demonic deception? This psalm helps us by suggesting that we should have confidence: "It is good to give thanks to the Lord and to sing to your name, O Most High, to proclaim in the morning your love, your faithfulness through the night". Singing for God is good for man above all, and St Augustine said it clearly: "Everything that man does for God, benefits man and not God." Singing for God, opening our eyes to his love and his faithfulness, day and night, protects us from the wiles of the serpent. Only an unwavering trust in God's love can illuminate man's life in all circumstances, while distrust and suspicion completely distort our view of reality. To be suspicious of God is a deadly trap. He who trusts in God is like an evergreen tree, which always retains its sap and freshness (cf. Psalm 1). To conclude, I note that this psalm bears a heading: 'Psalm for the Sabbath day', the day par excellence on which God's love and faithfulness are sung. One could make this psalm the psalm for Sunday, because for us Sunday is the celebration of God's love and faithfulness, which in Jesus Christ were manifested in a definitive way.  

*Second Reading from the First Letter of St Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (15:54-58)

 For several weeks now we have been reading chapter 15 of Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, which is a long reflection on the Resurrection. Today Paul concludes his meditation with a cry of triumph: 'Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ' (v 57). It is the victory of the Resurrection because, as he writes, what is corruptible in us will become incorruptible, what is mortal will clothe immortality (v 53): immortality, incorruptibility are God's prerogatives. Only in this way will we become in the image and likeness of God, according to the original plan announced and realised throughout the Bible's entire itinerary, with humanity's many failures and God's continuous interventions to save his plan of love. In creating humanity, the Lord had the plan to make it happy, united, filled with the Spirit of God, admitted to share in the life of the Trinity. A plan that has never failed and subsists forever because the designs of God's heart endure from generation to generation (cf. Ps 32/33). Human history therefore has meaning, significance and direction. That is, we know where we are going and the years do not all follow one another in the same way, because God has a project, a precise plan. We are oriented towards the future and we wait for this plan to be fulfilled by praying with our Father, that his kingdom come and his will be done on earth as it is in heaven. However, history testifies that humanity is falling short of this plan and people do not seem to cooperate. God respects our freedom and we often seem unwilling to listen to God's voice because it is a project that exceeds our rational perspectives. But why wonder? St Paul says that this project - he calls it the mystery of God's will - exceeds us and is unthinkable for us. Humanity, however, has two choices: accept the project and strive to advance it, or reject it and look elsewhere for our own happiness. Adam is the example of one who refuses and takes another direction, to his own detriment. God, however, remains patient and will save his project by not allowing himself to be discouraged by man's ill will because no one and nothing can extinguish the fire of God's love for us. It is certainly not biological death that separates us from him and our brothers, for we shall rise again, but spiritual death, the consequence of sin. Yet sin too is defeated by Jesus Christ: henceforth, grafted into the risen Christ, we can live like him and with him win the game of love. Indeed, Paul affirms that the victory is already won: contrary to what it seems, death and sin are the great losers and God's plan is saved: Jesus, with the forgiveness given to all, frees us from our sins and, if we want, the door is open to the Holy Spirit. We can then live the love and fraternity for which we are created.

*From the Gospel according to St Luke (6:39-45)

 We find here several instructions from Jesus that are like warnings concerning relationships within the Christian community, recommendations that are also present in the gospels of Matthew and John although in no particular order and proclaimed in different contexts. St Luke grouped them here because he probably saw a link between them and it is precisely this link that we are trying to understand together. To better proceed we divide the text into two parts: the first is a reflection on the gaze, while the second is the metaphor of the tree and the fruit. In the first part, Jesus develops the theme of gaze and begins with an observation: a blind man cannot guide another blind man, and the message is clear: we must be very careful because when we act as guides, we must not forget that we are blind from birth. The apologue of the mote and the beam goes in this direction since with a beam in one's eye, one is truly blind and cannot claim to cure the blindness of others. Between these two observations, Luke inserts a phrase that at first sight seems enigmatic: 'A disciple is no more than the teacher; but everyone who is well prepared will be like his teacher'. The preparation Jesus speaks of is, in a sense, the healing of us who are blind. It is Luke himself who notes that the disciples of Emmaus only began to see clearly when "Jesus opened their minds to the understanding of the Scriptures" (Lk 24:45). Since Jesus came into the world to open the eyes of the blind, his disciples, healed by him from their blindness, also have the mission to bring the light of revelation to the world. This is a very interesting mission, which we can only cope with by always remaining under the light of the Master and letting him heal our blindness. The evangelist then moves without transition to the metaphor of the tree and the fruit, which suggests that the theme is still the same: the true disciple, who allows himself to be enlightened by Jesus Christ, bears good fruit, but he who, on the contrary, does not allow Jesus Christ to enlighten him, remains in his blindness and produces bad fruit. It is now necessary to understand what fruits are involved. Taking into account that the text is after an entire discourse of Jesus on mutual love, we can understand that the fruits are related to our behaviour. The guiding rule is "Be merciful as your Father is merciful" (Luke 6:36).  In the first reading we read that the fruit manifests the quality of the tree; similarly, the word reveals the feelings and one should not praise anyone before he has spoken, because it is precisely his word that allows one to judge him. It is truly extraordinary how in a few words Luke has developed the entire Christian mystery: when we allow ourselves to be formed by Christ we are transformed in our whole being: in our gaze, behaviour and language. The fruit of light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth" (Eph 5:8). The first step consists in learning to look at others as God looks at them: with a gaze that does not judge, that does not condemn, that does not take pleasure in pointing out a speck in the other person's eye, that is, in noticing something really tiny. Just as the straw is blown away by the wind and therefore without depth and importance, so too must the faults of others be counted. If Jesus does not give them importance, the disciple well trained in his school will be like his master. Jesus concludes thus: the mouth of the disciple expresses that which overflows from the heart. To become the image of God, the secret is to immerse ourselves in his Word.

+Giovanni D'Ercole

Trumpets, bass drums and reciters, or perfect instruments

(Mt 6:1-6.16-18)

External wiles have no wisdom: they become a boomerang.

Whoever tries to shine obscures his own light. Anyone who cares about the opinion of the crowds will be a prisoner of it.

Life in the Spirit detaches itself from the practice of (accidental) things to show in order to beg for recognition.

Artificial alms:

Even show men who are starting to lack inspiration like to be considered benefactors of humanity, but their real goal is to go on stage - not the spread of a spirit of disinterest.

They intend to be recognized and acclaimed again - for this they use an absolutely flashy, exhibitionist and tacky way.

Reached the individualistic goal, despite the superficial altruism they would leave everything as it was.

It would be quite different if the left didn’t know what the right does, that is, if every gesture flourished spontaneously and in hiding rather than in overload - but let alone what a pleasure, not to let it be known.

The same orientation is valid for Prayer, much better if inapparent. The inner life is not unnatural acting.

In the Temple the sacrifices were accompanied by public formulas. To this effect, the synagogues were also considered an extension of the Temple. And at the appointed hours, prayer was also on the street.

Those who were able to recite long litanies by heart could thus flaunt their virtue and be admired.

But Dialogue with God is not performance, but essential Listening: root of renewal; principle of criteria and action.

Prayer is intimate perception and profound reading of things. Understanding and empathy that restore us to the meaning of personal life - critical moment of our growth and love for brothers.

The soul dominated by noise doesn’t grasp the guidance of the innate Friend, nor its own primary quality.

Open prayer establishes people in this intimate, secret, hidden atmosphere, which in the Spirit is intertwined with the deepest and most ancestral fibers.

Again, personal prayer is creative. It not only cancels the idea that we have made of life, pains, goals, relationships, defeats, judgments...

[The bitterness doesn’t seem to make life fly - but they invite to move our eyes].

And attentive Listening transmits a new Reading to us; pushes out of boundaries. Puts in contact with other energies and virtues.

A higher level of humanity ‘comes’ to us only in the amazement of this different advice, of an unexpected intuition, of a reality that displaces.

Principle of Liberation that lets our own deep sides meet, and reminds them, making us travel through the akin territory - which we do not yet know.

The woman and the man who gather in prayer are torn from the homologation of interpretative codes, and from the disease of the society of appearances - seated in the opinions and in the time of the minimal.

Finally the (forcibly) thoughtful and undone aspect:

Perhaps even today some use to pose in an extravagant way, showing themselves off as "alternative". Here and there, it seems to be some regurgitation of artificial asceticism.

But in this way believers only walk the way of renunciations in a manner [those that God doesn’t ask for]. And to the exact opposite, making the vital wave hysterical.

Instead, we are called to be in company: with ourselves and brothers. Even renunciation is for harmonious coexistence, without forcing that dissociate the main lines of the personality.

Here too the discernment of spirits becomes a propitious opportunity to create space for the humanizing vocation, and set the time of ambiguous noise in background.

[Ash Wednesday, March 5, 2025]

The faithless lower self, the thespian

Mt 6:1-6.16-18 (.19-23)

"Beware of practising your righteousness before men in order to be admired by them" (Mt 6:1). Jesus, in today's Gospel, reinterprets the three fundamental works of piety in the Mosaic Law. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting characterise the law-abiding Jew. In the course of time, these prescriptions had been marred by the rust of outward formalism, or had even mutated into a sign of superiority. Jesus highlights a common temptation in these three works of piety. When one does something good, almost instinctively the desire arises to be esteemed and admired for the good deed, that is, to have satisfaction. And this, on the one hand, encloses one in oneself, on the other hand, takes one out of oneself, because one lives projected towards what others think of us and admire in us. In re-proposing these prescriptions, the Lord Jesus does not ask for a formal respect to a law that is foreign to man, imposed by a strict legislator as a heavy burden, but invites us to rediscover these three works of piety by living them in a deeper way, not out of self-love, but out of love for God, as means on the path of conversion to Him. Almsgiving, prayer and fasting: this is the path of the divine pedagogy that accompanies us, not only in Lent, towards the encounter with the Risen Lord; a path to be travelled without ostentation, in the certainty that the heavenly Father knows how to read and see even in the secret of our hearts".

[Pope Benedict, homily 9 March 2011].

"But when you pray, enter into your room and shut your door [Is 26:20; 2 Kings 4:33] pray to your Father who is in secret" (Mt 6:6).

The Tao says: "He who attempts to shine, obscures his own Light" and "If you concern yourself with people's opinions, you will be their prisoner".

The disciples are called to a higher righteousness of intention (perfection) than the scribes and Pharisees - who performed according to appearance, public opinion, and retribution.

Jesus does not question religious practices per se, but their purpose and manner.

Aim: [among the still Judaizing veterans, from his communities in Galilee and Syria] to expose the insistents of outward fulfilment.

For shrewdness and the recitation of holiness succeed in fooling the imaginations of many... at least for a time.

But the wiles we are adept at concocting to beg for recognition do not possess the pace of Wisdom.

Fasting, penance and prayer are fundamental works, yet utterly worthless and meaningless if they are not made alive by charity and accompanied by justice.

Life in the Spirit is detached from the practice of 'spiritual' things - to show off... to deceive even oneself.

Finally, the (all incidental) artifice of holy duplicity becomes vague; sooner or later a boomerang.

At that time, the commitment to the Alms was held in high regard, but it had become general practice to announce the most important initiatives - in the synagogue and even in the streets.

For Jesus, publicity affects what belongs to us deeply [let not your left hand know what your right hand is doing] and is honourable.

Even 'devoutly' tightrope walkers, or career politicians who begin to lack the cue, like to make themselves out to be benefactors of humanity. But their real goal is to go on stage - not the spreading of a spirit of selflessness.

They intend to be recognised and acclaimed again - for this they use an absolutely showy, exhibitionist and gaudy manner.

Having reached their true goal of opportunism and individualism, despite their altruistic façade they would drop everything there.

Any convinced fulfilment would have to flourish spontaneously and hidden, instead of in overload - but just imagine what fun it would be, not to let it be known [...].

In reality, renouncing façade propaganda to promote contrary dimensions would extinguish intimate lacerations and conflicts; hidden energies would be released. A more fruitful awareness would be broadened.

The same orientation applies to Prayer, much better if inapparent. The inner life is not unnatural recitation.

Children's prayer is not reduced to a repetition of dirges, nor is it a request for favours; neither is it an exhibitionist and affected catwalk, to be considered pious, 'proper' and 'proper' people.

In the Temple, sacrifices were accompanied by public formulas. To this effect, even the synagogues were considered an extension of the Temple. And at the appointed times, prayers were also said in the streets.

Those who were able to recite long litanies from memory could thus flaunt their virtue and be admired.

But Dialogue with God is not performance, it is essential Listening: the root of renewal; distinguishing criteria and action. 

Understanding and empathy, intimate perception and profound intelligence of things restore us to the meaning of personal life - the discriminator of our growth and love for our brothers and sisters.

Why do we thirst for this knowledge, which is only grasped in its exclusive purity in a space of solitude?

Because the soul - overwhelmed with fracas - would not otherwise grasp the guidance of the innate Friend, nor its own essential quality.

There are inescapable questions, beyond the reach of our lower self, i.e. our cerebral or practical activities.

What is our Way? How do we accommodate that which has specific weight and character?

It is not worth solving problems hastily, at all costs, in a conformist or exaggerated manner.

Of course, we do not always get along with God who also wants us to flourish. What is the antidote?

Open prayer establishes people in this intimate, secret, hidden atmosphere that radically belongs to us,

In the Spirit it intertwines with the deepest, ancestral fibres - and gradually brings out the hidden path and destiny.

Personal prayer is creative.

It not only erases our idea of life, of sorrows, of goals, of relationships, of defeats, of judgements...

(Bitterness does not seem to make life fly by - but it does invite the eye to shift).

And Attention Listening gives us a new Reading; it brings us out of the confines. It puts us in touch with other energies and virtues.

A higher level of humanity comes to us only in the amazement of such different advice, of unexpected intuition; of a reality that disorients.

Principle of Liberation that allows us to encounter our own deepest sides, and reminds us of them, leading us into the kindred territory - that we do not yet know.

We must understand deeper than the action-reaction mechanisms allow, filled with distracted tension - absent from our own Calling by Name, which would give us enthusiasm.

Not infrequently, the soul itself - which detests certain outcomes that the society [also ecclesiastical] outside would like to let us live with - revolts, attacks and leads to the failure of all too normal goals.

Even the discomforts come from the simple fact that we are not on the Path of deep attunements: 'point' that bends its contractions towards us, for having chosen the broad but artificial path of compromises.

There are fundamental inclinations for everyone: it would be constructive to yield to them - and to allow ourselves to be guided.

Our complete existence is not a path mapped out by 'where we should go'.

It is appropriate not to be stubborn, and to learn to accommodate the activity of metamorphosis that wants to live; to express itself in us - to guide us and sometimes deviate from 'how we should be'.

The woman and man who gather in prayer are torn from the homologation of interpretative codes, and from the disease of the society of appearance - all sitting in the opinions and time of the minimal.

The same viewpoint for the theme of Fasting: a practice considered a manifestation of conversion to God.

But with surprise we note that Jesus' call applies especially to the religious with a forced pensive and undone air.

Not a few devotees of all creeds use to posture extravagantly - a tawdry expression of their emotional problems.

Indeed, here and there, even in youthful circles, there seems to be some regurgitation of contrived asceticism.

But in this way, believers only tread the path of mannered renunciations [those that God does not ask for], artificial ones. And for the exact opposite, making the life-wave hysterical.

Instead, we are called to be in company: with ourselves and with our brothers. Even renunciation is for the sake of harmonious coexistence, without forcing one's personality lines apart.

Here too, the discernment of spirits becomes a propitious occasion to create space for the humanising vocation.

Already the prophet Isaiah had distinguished between authentic and false fasting [Is 58], that is, not aimed at a life of justice and communion, hence at feasting and joy.

It is useless to undergo practices that do not change the heart.

Along the unspontaneous or trick-or-treat road (of plagiarism suffered or imposed of one's own mind on the soul) the lamb's bleating will sooner or later become a roaring or braying. A matter of time.

In the discernment of the spirits, it is the attitude that reveals the fiction of those who really only think only of power (in greed) and great things, precisely those of megalomaniac superiors, or the elect.

All this using poor Jesus and the little ones, or any creed whatsoever, as screens - just the opposite.

Almsgiving, fasting and prayer are attitudes, not knowable practices outside the unrepeatable language of God himself and his exceptional way of communicating with each person. 

Dialogue of an eccentric, precious, ineffable, fantastic, unsurpassed uniqueness, which does not allow itself to be attracted by window-dressing externality, nor by herd-like levelling, or crassness.

Putting the time of ambiguous hubbub in the background.

"Precisely because it is great, my Way seems to be like nothing [...] I do not dare to be first in the world, so I can be chief of the perfect instruments" [Tao Tê Ching, Lxvii].

To internalise and live the message:

Is your spiritual life a time of hubbub ... or a time and fertile ground, a propitious occasion to internalise, to encounter oneself, one's essence, and God in one's brothers and sisters?

Conclusion:

Where is the ecclesial heart?

(Mt 6:19-23)

"Where your treasure is, there your heart will be" (v.21). It is not an abused personal or institutional issue, insipid; from easy ironies.

To ignore it is to give it further breathing space, making it grow out of all proportion; making it even more out of time and difficult to read (and identify its treatment).

All this, however, must be done by putting precipitation in brackets... in the spirit of broader understanding. It is understood that in order to understand each other and activate different resources, each community must go through moments of the most severe verification.

Even for denominational churches with a wide and prestigious tradition, the awareness of being losers in this respect today is indispensable for finding oneself. Overcoming the stumbling block... forwards, 'outwards'.

We read in the Encyclical "Spe Salvi" No. 2 ("Faith is Hope"):

"Hope is a central word in biblical faith - to the point that in several passages the words 'faith' and 'hope' seem interchangeable [...].

How decisive it was for the awareness of the early Christians that they had received a reliable hope as a gift, is also shown where Christian existence is compared with life before faith or with the situation of the followers of other religions [...].

Their gods had proved questionable and no hope emanated from their contradictory myths. Despite the gods, they were 'godless' and consequently found themselves in a dark world, facing a dark future. 'In nihil ab nihilo quam cito recidimus' (In nothing from nothing how soon we fall back) says an epitaph from that era [...].

It appears as a distinctive element of Christians that they have a future: it is not that they know in detail what awaits them, but they know on the whole that their life does not end in a vacuum.

Only when the future is certain as a positive reality does the present also become liveable. So we can now say: Christianity was not just 'good news' - a communication of hitherto unknown content.

In our language we would say: the Christian message was not just 'informative', but 'performative'. This means: the gospel is not just a communication of things that can be known, but a communication that produces facts and changes lives.

The dark door of time, of the future, has been thrown wide open. He who has hope lives differently; he has been given a new life'.

In the form of the Relationship, everything opens up intense life - which integrates and overcomes self-love, the thirst for domination.

This liberates from the 'old', that is, it closes a cycle of paths already set - to make us return as newborns.

The Hope that has weight dismantles the inessential; it expels the noise of thoughts that are no longer in tune with our growth, and introduces dreamy energies, a wealth of possibilities.

There will be initial resistance, but development sets in.

Hope sacrifices ballasts and activates us according to the 'divine within'. It opens the door to a new, brighter and corresponding phase.

The treasures of the earth quickly blind; likewise they pass away: suddenly. The age of global crisis throws it in our faces.

Yet, it is a necessary pain.

We understand: the new paths are not traced by goods, nor by devout memories, but by the Void, which acts as a gap to common, taken for granted, reassuring easiness.

Religiosity good for all seasons gives way to the unprecedented life of Faith.

This is where the Art of discernment and pastoral work comes in: it should know how to introduce new competitive, dissimilar energies - cosmic and personal - that prepare unprecedented, open, gratuitous syntheses.

We know this, and yet in some circles (prestigious and already wealthy) the greed to possess under the guise of necessity does not allow them to see clearly.

It happens even to long-standing consecrated persons - it is not clear why such greedy, perfunctory duplicity.

Do we still want to emerge, raising more confusions? After all, we are dissatisfied with our mediocre choices.

At the beginning of the Vocation, we felt the need for a Relationship that would bring Meaning and a Centre to our feriality...

Then we deviated, perhaps out of dissatisfaction or for reasons of calculation and convenience - and the dullness of our robbing eyes prevailed. First here and there, gradually occupying the soul. 

Even in some leaders and prominent church circles, the basis of existence has become the many-zero bank account.

So... the vanity scene, the bag of commerce, the thrill of getting on the board, in various realities have supplanted real hearts - and eyes themselves.

As if to say: there is another experience of the 'divine', which is a doomsday: between one Psalm and another, better than Love becomes feeling powerful, secure and respected around.

(Do God and accumulation give different orders? No problem: let it be understood that one does it for 'his' Glory).

So much for the common good.

Not a few people are realising that counting is the most popular sport in various multi-pious companies, fantastically embellished with events and initiatives (to cover what it's worth).

And litmus test is precisely that mean-spirited scrutiny (vv.22-23) that behind dense scenes, holds back, even judges, and keeps a distance from others. With the gaze that closes the horizon of existence: the immediately at hand, and of circumstance, counts.

A seemingly superabundant belief - coincidentally without the prominence of Hope - is condemning us to the world's worst denatality rate.

The panorama of our devoutly empty villages and towns is discouraging. But one revels in one's own niche, and in the petty situation.

The important thing is that everything is epidermically adorned.

Under the peculiar bell tower that sets the pace for the usual things, many people keep 'their' (too much) to themselves, content to sacralise selfishness with the display of beautiful statues, customs, banners, colourful costumes and mannerisms.

Instead, according to the Gospels, in the attempts and paths of Faith that are not satisfied with an empty spirituality, life becomes bright with creative Love that flourishes, and puts everyone at ease.

Even the old can re-emerge in this new spirit. For there are other Heights. For what makes one intimate with God is nothing external.

The authentic Church aroused by clear 'visions' - without papier-mâché and duplicity - always reveals something portentous: fruitfulness from nullity, life from the outpouring of it, birth from apparent sterility.

A river of unimagined attunements will reconnect the reading of events and the action of believers to the work of the Spirit, without barriers.

For when normalised thinking gives way and settles down, the new advances.

The choice is now inexorable: between death and life; between longing and "darkness" (v.23), or Happiness.

The first step is to admit that one has to make a path.

To internalise and live the message:

Where is your Treasure? Is your heart and eye simple?

Have you ever experienced sides that others judge to be inconclusive (from a material point of view) and instead have prepared your new paths?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

On this day, marked by the austere symbol of ashes, we enter the Season of Lent, beginning a spiritual journey that prepares us for celebrating worthily the Easter Mysteries. The blessed ashes imposed upon our forehead are a sign that reminds us of our condition as creatures, that invites us to repent, and to intensify our commitment to convert, to follow the Lord ever more closely.

Lent is a journey, it means accompanying Jesus who goes up to Jerusalem, the place of the fulfilment of his mystery of Passion, death and Resurrection; it reminds us that Christian life is a “way” to take, not so much consistent with a law to observe as with the very Person of Christ, to encounter, to welcome, to follow.

Indeed, Jesus says to us: “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Lk 9:23). In other words he tells us that in order to attain, with him, the light and joy of the Resurrection, the victory of life, of love and of goodness, we too must take up our daily cross, as a beautiful passage from the Imitation of Christ urges us: “Take up your cross, therefore, and follow Jesus, and you shall enter eternal life. He himself opened the way before you in carrying his Cross (Jn 19:17), and upon it he died for you, that you too, might take up your cross and long to die upon it. If you die with him, you shall also live with him, and if you share his suffering, you shall also share his glory” (Book 2, chapter 12, n. 2).

In Holy Mass of the First Sunday of Lent we shall pray: “Father, through our observance of Lent, sign of the sacrament of our conversion, help us to understand the meaning of your Son’s death and Resurrection, and teach us to reflect it in our lives” (Opening Prayer).

This is an invocation that we address to God because we know that he alone can convert our hearts. And it is above all in the Liturgy, by participating in the holy mysteries, that we are led to make this journey with the Lord; it means learning at the school of Jesus, reviewing the events that brought salvation to us but not as a mere commemoration, a remembrance of past events. In the liturgical actions Christ makes himself present through the power of the Holy Spirit and these saving events become real.

There is a keyword that recurs frequently in the Liturgy to indicate this: the word “today”; and it should be understood in its original and practical, rather than metaphorical, sense. Today God reveals his law and we are granted to choose today between good and evil, between life and death (cf. Dt 30:19). Today “the Kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mk 1:15). Today Christ died on Calvary and rose from the dead; he ascended into Heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father; today the Holy Spirit is given to us; today is a favourable time.

Taking part in the Liturgy thus means immersing our life in the mystery of Christ, in his enduring presence so as to follow a path on which we enter his death and Resurrection in order to have life. The Sundays of Lent, in this liturgical year of Cycle A in a quite particular way, introduce us to the experience of a baptismal journey, almost as if we were retracing the path of the catechumens, of those who are preparing to receive Baptism, in order to rekindle this gift within us and to ensure that our life may recover a sense of the demands and commitments of this sacrament which is at the root of our Christian life.

In the Message for this Lent I wished to recall the particular connection that binds Baptism to the Season of Lent. The Church has always associated the Easter Vigil with the celebration of Baptism, step by step. In it is brought about that great mystery through which man, dead to sin, is enabled to share in new life in the Risen Christ and receives the Spirit of God who raised Jesus from the dead (cf. Rom 8:11).

The Readings we shall listen to on the coming Sundays and to which I ask you to pay special attention are taken up precisely by the ancient tradition which accompanied catechumens in the discovery of Baptism. These Readings are the great proclamation of what God brings about in this sacrament, a wonderful baptismal catechesis addressed to each one of us.

The First Sunday of Lent, known as the “Sunday of the Temptation” because it presents Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness, invites us to renew our definitive adherence to God and, in order to remain faithful to him, to face courageously the struggle that awaits us.

Over and over again we need determination, resistance to evil, we need to follow Jesus. On this Sunday, after hearing the testimony of the godparents and catechists, the Church celebrates the election of those who are admitted to the Easter sacraments.

The Second Sunday is called “of Abraham and of the Transfiguration”. Baptism is the sacrament of faith and of divine sonship; like Abraham, Father of believers, we too are asked to set out, to depart from our land, to give up the security we have created for ourselves in order to place our trust in God; the destination is glimpsed in the Transfiguration of Christ, the beloved Son, in whom we too become “sons of God”.

On the following Sundays, Baptism is presented in images of water, light and life. The Third Sunday makes us meet the Samaritan woman (cf. Jn 4:5-42). Like Israel in the Exodus, in Baptism we too have received the water that saves; Jesus, as the Samaritan woman says, has living water that quenches all thirst; and this water is the Spirit himself. On this Sunday the Church celebrates the First Scrutiny of the catechumens and during the week presents to them the Creed: the profession of faith.

The Fourth Sunday makes us reflect on the experience of the “man blind from birth” (cf. Jn 9:1-41). In Baptism, we are set free from the shadow of evil and receive Christ’s light in order to live as children of light. We too must learn to see in Christ’s Face God’s presence, hence light. The Second Scrutiny on the catechumen’s journey is celebrated.

Lastly, the Fifth Sunday presents to us the raising of Lazarus (cf. Jn 11:1-45). In Baptism we passed from death to life and were enabled to please God, to make the former person die so as to live by the Spirit of the Risen One. The Third Scrutiny for the catechumens is celebrated and during the week the Lord’s Prayer is presented to them.

In the Church’s tradition, this journey we are asked to take in Lent is marked by certain practices: fasting, almsgiving and prayer. Fasting means abstinence from food but includes other forms of privation for a more modest life. However, all this is not yet the full reality of fasting: it is an outer sign of an inner reality, of our commitment, with God’s help, to abstain from evil and to live by the Gospel. Those who are unable to nourish themselves with the word of God do not fast properly.

In the Christian tradition fasting is closely linked to almsgiving. St Leo the Great taught in one of his Discourses on Lent: “All that each Christian is bound to do in every season he must now do with greater solicitude and devotion in order to fulfil the apostolic prescription of Lenten fasting consistently, not only in abstinence from food but also and above all from sin. Furthermore, with this holy fasting which is only right, no work may be more fruitfully associated than almsgiving which, under the one name of ‘mercy’, embraces many good works. The field of works of mercy is immense. It is not only the rich and the well-off who can benefit others with almsgiving, but also those of modest means and even the poor. Thus, although their futures differ, all may be the same in the soul’s sentiments of piety” (Sermon VI on Lent, 2: PL 54, 286).

St Gregory the Great recalled in his Pastoral Rule that fasting is sanctified by the virtues that go with it, especially by charity, by every act of generosity, giving to the poor and needy the equivalent of something we ourselves have given up (cf. 19, 10-11). Lent, moreover, is a privileged period for prayer. St Augustine said that fasting and almsgiving are “the two wings of prayer” which enable it to gain momentum and more easily reach even to God.

He said: “In this way our prayers, made in humility and charity, in fasting and almsgiving, in temperance and in the forgiveness of offences, giving good things and not returning those that are bad, keeping away from evil and doing good, seek peace and achieve it. On the wings of these virtues our prayers fly safely and are more easily carried to Heaven, where Christ our Peace has preceded us” (Sermon 206, 3 on Lent: PL 38, 1042).

The Church knows that because of our weakness it is difficult to create silence in order to come before God and to acquire an awareness of our condition as creatures who depend on him, as sinners in need of his love. It is for this reason that in Lent she asks us to pray more faithfully, more intensely, and to prolong our meditation on the word of God.

St John Chrysostom urged: “Embellish your house with modesty and humility with the practice of prayer. Make your dwelling place shine with the light of justice; adorn its walls with good works, like a lustre of pure gold, and replace walls and precious stones with faith and supernatural magnanimity, putting prayer above all other things, high up in the gables, to give the whole complex decorum.

“You will thus prepare a worthy dwelling place for the Lord, you will welcome him in a splendid palace. He will grant you to transform your soul into a temple of his presence” (Homily 6 on Prayer: PG 64, 466).

Dear friends, on this Lenten journey let us be careful to accept Christ’s invitation to follow him more decisively and consistently, renewing the grace and commitments of our Baptism, to cast off the former person within us and put on Christ, in order to arrive at Easter renewed and able to say, with St Paul: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Gal 2:20). I wish you all a good Lenten journey! Thank you!

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 9 March 2011]

"Sound the horn, proclaim a solemn fast" (Gl 2:15), says the prophet in the First Reading. Lent opens with a shrill sound, that of a horn that does not caress the ears, but proclaims a fast. It is a loud sound, meant to slow down our lives that are always running, but often do not know where. It is a call to stop - a "stop!" -, to go to the essentials, to fast from the superfluous that distracts. It is an alarm clock for the soul.

The sound of this wake-up call is accompanied by the message that the Lord delivers through the mouth of the prophet, a short and heartfelt message: 'Return to me' (v. 12). Return. If we must return, it means we have gone elsewhere. Lent is the time to retrace the course of life. Because in the journey of life, as in any journey, what really counts is not to lose sight of the destination. When on the journey what matters is looking at the landscape or stopping to eat, we do not go far. Each of us can ask ourselves: on life's journey, do I seek the course? Or am I content to live by the day, thinking only of getting well, solving a few problems and having a little fun? What is the course? Perhaps the pursuit of health, which so many today say comes first but which will pass sooner or later? Perhaps possessions and wealth? But we are not in the world for that. Return to me, says the Lord. To me. The Lord is the destination of our journey in the world. The course must be set on Him.

To find our course, today we are offered a sign: ashes on our heads. It is a sign that makes us think about what is in our heads. Our thoughts often chase after passing things, which come and go. The light layer of ash that we receive is to tell us, gently and truthfully: of the many things that you have on your mind, behind which you run and toil every day, nothing will remain. However much you toil, from life you will take no wealth with you. Earthly realities vanish, like dust in the wind. Goods are temporary, power passes, success fades. The culture of appearance, dominant today, which induces one to live for the things that pass, is a great deception. For it is like a blaze: once it is over, only ashes remain. Lent is the time to free ourselves from the illusion of living chasing the dust. Lent is to rediscover that we are made for the fire that always burns, not for the ashes that immediately go out; for God, not for the world; for the eternity of Heaven, not for the deception of the earth; for the freedom of children, not for the slavery of things. We can ask ourselves today: which side am I on? Do I live by fire or by ashes?

In this journey back to the essentials that is Lent, the Gospel proposes three stages, which the Lord asks us to go through without hypocrisy, without pretence: almsgiving, prayer, fasting. What are they for? Almsgiving, prayer and fasting bring us back to the only three realities that do not vanish. Prayer takes us back to God; charity to our neighbour; fasting to ourselves. God, brothers, my life: these are the realities that do not end in nothingness, in which we must invest. This is where Lent invites us to look: upwards, with prayer, which frees one from a horizontal, flat life, where one finds time for the self but forgets God. And then towards the Other, with charity, which frees from the vanity of having, from thinking that things are good if they are good for me. Finally, he invites us to look inside ourselves, with fasting, which frees us from attachments to things, from worldliness that anaesthetises the heart. Prayer, charity, fasting: three investments for a treasure that lasts.

Jesus said: "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Mt 6:21). Our heart always points in some direction: it is like a compass in search of orientation. We can also compare it to a magnet: it needs to attach itself to something. But if it only attaches itself to earthly things, sooner or later it becomes a slave to them: things to be served become things to be served. Outward appearance, money, career, pastimes: if we live for them, they will become idols that use us, sirens that enchant us and then cast us adrift. Instead, if the heart attaches itself to what does not pass, we find ourselves and become free. Lent is a time of grace to free the heart from vanities. It is a time of healing from the addictions that seduce us. It is a time to fix our gaze on what remains.

Where then to fix our gaze along the path of Lent? It is simple: on the Crucified One. Jesus on the cross is the compass of life, directing us to Heaven. The poverty of the wood, the silence of the Lord, his stripping away out of love show us the need for a simpler life, free from too much preoccupation with things. Jesus from the cross teaches us the strong courage of renunciation. Because laden with cumbersome burdens, we will never move forward. We need to free ourselves from the tentacles of consumerism and the snares of selfishness, from always wanting more, from never being content, from a heart closed to the needs of the poor. Jesus, who on the wood of the cross burns with love, calls us to a life on fire with Him, one that is not lost in the ashes of the world; a life that burns with charity and is not extinguished in mediocrity. Is it difficult to live as He asks? Yes, it is difficult, but it leads to the goal. Lent shows us this. It begins with ashes, but in the end it leads us to the fire of Easter night; to discover that, in the tomb, the flesh of Jesus does not become ashes, but rises again in glory. It also applies to us, who are dust: if with our frailties we return to the Lord, if we take the way of love, we will embrace the life that does not fade. And we shall certainly be in joy.

[Pope John Paul II, St Sabina Lenten “station” 8 March 2000]

“Blow the trumpet […] sanctify a fast” (Joel 2:15), says the prophet in the first reading. Lent opens with a piercing sound, that of a trumpet that does not please the ears, but instead proclaims a fast. It is a loud sound that seeks to slow down our life, which is so fast-paced, yet often directionless. It is a summons to stop – a “halt!” –, to focus on what is essential, to fast from the unnecessary things that distract us. It is a wake-up call for the soul.

This wake-up call is accompanied by the message that the Lord proclaims through the lips of the prophet, a short and heartfelt message: “Return to me” (v 12). To return. If we have to return, it means that we have wandered off. Lent is the time to rediscover the direction of life. Because in life’s journey, as in every journey, what really matters is not to lose sight of the goal. If what interests us as we travel, however, is looking at the scenery or stopping to eat, we will not get far. We should ask ourselves: On the journey of life, do I seek the way forward? Or am I satisfied with living in the moment and thinking only of feeling good, solving some problems and having fun? What is the path? Is it the search for health, which many today say comes first but which eventually passes? Could it be possessions and wellbeing? But we are not in the world for this. Return to me, says the Lord. To me. The Lord is the goal of our journey in this world. The direction must lead to him.

Today we have been offered a sign that will help us find our direction: the head marked by ash. It is a sign that causes us to consider what occupies our mind. Our thoughts often focus on transient things, which come and go. The small mark of ash, which we will receive, is a subtle yet real reminder that of the many things occupying our thoughts, that we chase after and worry about every day, nothing will remain. No matter how hard we work, we will take no wealth with us from this life. Earthly realities fade away like dust in the wind. Possessions are temporary, power passes, success wanes. The culture of appearance prevalent today, which persuades us to live for passing things, is a great deception. It is like a blaze: once ended, only ash remains. Lent is the time to free ourselves from the illusion of chasing after dust. Lent is for rediscovering that we are created for the inextinguishable flame, not for ashes that immediately disappear; for God, not for the world; for the eternity of heaven, not for earthly deceit; for the freedom of the children of God, not for slavery to things. We should ask ourselves today: Where do I stand? Do I live for fire or for ash?

On this Lenten journey, back to what is essential, the Gospel proposes three steps which the Lord invites us to undertake without hypocrisy and pretence: almsgiving, prayer, fasting. What are they for? Almsgiving, prayer and fasting bring us back to the three realities that do not fade away. Prayer reunites us to God; charity, to our neighbour; fasting, to ourselves. God, my neighbour, my life: these are the realities that do not fade away and in which we must invest. Lent, therefore, invites us to focus, first of all on the Almighty, in prayer, which frees us from that horizontal and mundane life where we find time for self but forget God. It then invites us to focus on others, with the charity that frees us from the vanity of acquiring and of thinking that things are only good if they are good for me. Finally, Lent invites us to look inside our heart, with fasting, which frees us from attachment to things and from the worldliness that numbs the heart. Prayer, charity, fasting: three investments for a treasure that endures.

Jesus said: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Mt 6:21). Our heart always points in some direction: it is like a compass seeking its bearings. We can also compare it to a magnet: it needs to attach itself to something. But if it only attaches itself to earthly things, sooner or later it becomes a slave to them: things to be used become things we serve. Outward appearance, money, a career or hobby: if we live for them, they will become idols that enslave us, sirens that charm us and then cast us adrift. Whereas if our heart is attached to what does not pass away, we rediscover ourselves and are set free. Lent is the time of grace that liberates the heart from vanity. It is a time of healing from addictions that seduce us. It is a time to fix our gaze on what abides.

Where can we fix our gaze, then, throughout this Lenten journey? It is simple: upon the Crucified one. Jesus on the cross is life’s compass, which directs us to heaven. The poverty of the wood, the silence of the Lord, his loving self-emptying show us the necessity of a simpler life, free from anxiety about things. From the cross, Jesus teaches us the great courage involved in renunciation. We will never move forward if we are heavily weighed down. We need to free ourselves from the clutches of consumerism and the snares of selfishness, from always wanting more, from never being satisfied, and from a heart closed to the needs of the poor. Jesus on the wood of the cross burns with love, and calls us to a life that is passionate for him, which is not lost amid the ashes of the world; to a life that burns with charity and is not extinguished in mediocrity. Is it difficult to live as he asks? Yes, it is difficult, but it leads us to our goal. Lent shows us this. It begins with the ashes, but eventually leads us to the fire of Easter night; to the discovery that, in the tomb, the body of Jesus does not turn to ashes, but rises gloriously. This is true also for us, who are dust. If we, with our weaknesses, return to the Lord, if we take the path of love, then we will embrace the life that never ends. And surely we will be full of joy.

[Pope Francis, homily 6 March 2019]