1. "Sanctify a fast!" (Joel 1:14). They are the words that we listened to in the first reading on Ash Wednesday. They were written by the Prophet Joel, and the Church establishes the practice of Lent in conformity with them, ordering fasting. Today the practice of Lent, defined by Paul VI in the Constitution "Poenitemini ", is considerably reduced as compared with practices of the past. In this matter the Pope left a great deal to the decision of the Episcopal Conferences of the individual countries. They, therefore, have the task of adapting the requirements of fasting according to the circumstances that prevail in their respective societies. He also recalled that the essence of Lenten repentance consists not only of fasting, but also of prayer and almsdeeds (works of mercy). So it is necessary to decide according to circumstances, since fasting itself can be "replaced" by works of mercy and prayer. The aim of this particular period in the life of the Church is always and everywhere repentance, that is, conversion to God. Repentance, in fact, understood as conversion, that is "metanoia", forms a whole, which the tradition of the People of God already in the old Covenant and then Christ himself linked, in a certain way, with prayer, almsdeeds and fasting.

Why to fasting?

At this moment there perhaps come into our minds the words with which Jesus answered the disciples of John the Baptist when they asked him: "Why do your disciples not fast?" Jesus answered: "Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come, when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast" (Mt 9:15). In fact the time of Lent reminds us that the bridegroom has been taken away from us. Taken away, arrested, imprisoned, slapped, scourged, crowned with thorns, crucified... Fasting in the time of Lent is the expression of our solidarity with Christ. Such was the meaning of Lent throughout the centuries and such it remains today.

"My love has been crucified and there is no longer in me the flame that desires material things", as the Bishop of Antioch, Ignatius, writes in the letter to the Romans (Ign. Antioch,. Ad Romanos VII, 2).

2. Why fasting?

It is necessary to give this question a wider and deeper answer, in order to clarify the relationship between fasting and "metanoia", that is, that spiritual change which brings man closer to God. We will try therefore to concentrate not only on the practice of abstention from food or from drink — that, in fact, is the meaning of "fasting" in the common sense — but on the deeper meaning of this practice which, moreover, can and must sometimes be "replaced" by another one. Food and drink are indispensable for man to live, he uses them and must use them, but he may not abuse them in any way. The traditional abstention from food and drink has as its purpose to introduce into man's existence not only the necessary balance, but also detachment from what might be defined a "consumer attitude". In our times this attitude has become one of the characteristics of civilization and in particular of Western civilization. The consumer attitude!

Man geared to material goods, multiple material goods, very often abuses them. It is not a question here lust of food and drink. When man is geared exclusively to possession and use of material goods — that is, of things — then also the whole civilization is measured according to the quantity and the quality of the things with which it is in a position to supply man, and is not measured with the yardstick suitable for man. This civilization, in fact, supplies material goods not just in order that they may serve man to carry out creative and useful activities, but more and more... to satisfy the senses, the excitement he derives from them, momentary pleasure, an ever greater multiplicity of sensations.

We sometimes hear it said that the excessive increase of audiovisual media in the rich countries is not always useful for the development of intelligence, particularly in children; on the contrary, it sometimes contributes to checking its development. The child lives only on sensations, he looks for ever-new sensations... And thus he becomes, without realizing it, a slave of this modern passion. Satiating himself with sensations, he often remains passive intellectually; the intellect does not open to search of truth; the will remains bound by habit which it is unable to oppose.

It is seen from this that modern man must fast, that is, abstain not only from food or drink, but from many other means of consumption, stimulation, satisfaction of the senses. To fast means to abstain, to renounce something.

3. Why renounce something? Why deprive oneself of it? We have already partly answered this question. However the answer will not be complete, if we do not realize that man is himself also because he succeeds in depriving himself of something, because he is capable of saying "no" to himself. Man is a being composed of body and soul. Some modern writers present this composite structure of man in the form of layers, and they speak, for example, of exterior layers on the surface of our personality, contrasting them with the layers in depth. Our life seems to be divided into such layers and takes place through them. While the superficial layers are bound up with our sensuality, the deep layers are an expression, on the contrary, of man's spirituality, that is, of conscious will, reflection, conscience, the capacity of living superior values.

This image of the structure of the human personality can serve to understand the meaning of fasting for man. It is not a question here only of the religious meaning, but of a meaning that is expressed through the so-called "organization" of man as a subject-person. Man develops regularly when the deeper layers of his personality find sufficient expression, when the sphere of his interests and aspirations is not limited just to the exterior and superficial layers, connected with human sensuality. To facilitate such a development, we must sometimes deliberately detach ourselves from what serves to satisfy sensuality, that is, from those exterior, superficial layers. Therefore we must renounce every thing that "nourishes" them.

This, in short, is the interpretation of fasting nowadays.

Renunciation of sensations, stimuli, pleasures and even food or drink, is not an end in itself. It must only, so to speak, prepare the way for deeper contents by which the interior man "is nourished". This renunciation, this mortification must serve to create in man the conditions to be able to live the superior values, for which he, in his own way, hungers.

This is the "full" meaning of fasting in the language of today. However, when we read the Christian authors of antiquity or the Fathers of the Church, we find in them the same truth, often expressed in a surprisingly "modern" language. St Peter Chrysologus, for example, says.. "Fasting is peace of the body, strength of minds, vigour of souls" (Sermo VII: de jejunio 3); and again: "Fasting is the helm of human life and governs the whole ship of our body." (Sermo VII: de jejunio 1.)

And St Ambrose replies as follows to possible objections to fasting: "The flesh, because of its mortal condition, has some specific lusts: With regard to them you are granted the right to curb them. Your flesh is under you...: do not follow the promptings of the flesh to unlawful things, but curb them somewhat even as regards lawful ones. In fact he who does not abstain from any of the lawful things, is also very close to unlawful things." (Sermo de utilitate jejunii III.V.VII). Also writers not belonging to Christianity declare the same truth. This truth is of universal significance. It is part of the universal wisdom of life.

4. It is now certainly easier for us to understand why Christ the Lord and the Church unite the call to fasting with repentance, that is, with conversion. To be converted to God, it is necessary to discover in ourselves that which makes us sensitive to what belongs to God; therefore, the spiritual contents, the superior values which speak to our intellect, to our conscience, to our "heart" (according to biblical language). To open up to these spiritual contents, to these values, it is necessary to detach oneself from what serves only the consumer spirit, satisfaction of the senses. In the opening of our human personality to God, fasting — understood both in the "traditional" way and in the "modern" way — must go hand in hand with prayer because it is addressed directly to him.

Furthermore, fasting, that is, the mortification of the senses, mastery of the  body, confer on prayer a greater efficacy, which man discovers in himself. He discovers, in fact, that he is "different", that he is more "master of himself", that he has become interiorly free. And he realizes this in as much as conversion and the meeting with God, through prayer, bear fruit in him.

It is clear from these our reflections today that fasting is not only a "vestige" of a religious practice of past centuries, but that it is also indispensable for the man of today, for Christians of our time.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 21 March 1979]

But what kind of penance and fasting does the Lord want from man? The risk, in fact, is of 'rigging' a virtuous practice, of being 'inconsistent'. And it is not just a question of "food choices", but of lifestyles for which one must have the "humility" and "consistency" to recognise and correct one's sins.

This is in short the reflection that, at the beginning of the Lenten journey, the Pontiff proposed to the faithful during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on the morning of Friday 16 February.

Key word of the meditation, suggested by the liturgy of the day, was "fasting": "Fasting before God, fasting that is adoration, fasting in earnest", because "fasting is one of the tasks to be done in Lent". But not in the sense of those who say: 'I only eat the Lenten dishes'. In fact, Francis commented, 'those dishes make a banquet! It is not changing dishes or making fish one way, the other, tastier'. Otherwise, one does nothing but 'continue the carnival'.

It is the word of God, he emphasised, that admonishes that 'our fasting be true. True in earnest'. And, he added, 'if you cannot do total fasting, the kind that makes one feel hungry to the bone', at least 'do a humble fast, but a true fast'.

In the first reading (Isaiah 58:1-9), in this regard, "the prophet points out many inconsistencies in the practice of virtue". And precisely "this is one of the inconsistencies". Isaiah's list is detailed: 'You say that you seek me, you speak to me. But it is not true', and 'on the day of your fasting you mind your own business': that is, while 'fasting is a little stripping', you are concerned with 'making money'. And again: 'Angariate all your workers': in other words, the Pope explained, while one says: 'I thank you Lord that I can fast', one despises the workers who 'must fast because they have no food'. The prophet's accusation is direct: "Behold, you fast amid quarrels and altercations and striking with unjust fists.

This is an inadmissible double face. The Pontiff explained: "If you want to do penance, do it in peace. But you cannot on the one hand speak to God and on the other speak to the devil, invite both to fast; this is an inconsistency". And, always following the indications of Scripture - "Do not fast any longer as you do today, so that your noise may be heard on high" - Francis warned against incoherent exhibitionism. It is the attitude of those who, for example, always remind us: 'we are Catholics, we practise; I belong to that association, we always fast, we do penance'. He ideally asked them: "But, do you fast consistently or do you do penance inconsistently as the Lord says, with noise, so that everyone sees it, and says, 'What a righteous person, what a righteous man, what a righteous woman'?" This, indeed, "is a trick; it is rigging virtue. It is rigging the commandment'. And it is, he added, a "temptation" that we have all felt at times, "to make up instead of being serious about virtue, about what the Lord asks of us".

On the contrary, the Lord "advises penitents, those who fast, to put on make-up, but seriously: 'Fast, but put on make-up so that people do not see that you are doing penance. Smile, be happy". Faced with so many who "are hungry and cannot smile", this is the suggestion to the believer: "You seek hunger to help others, but always with a smile, because you are a child of God and the Lord loves you so much and has revealed these things to you. But without inconsistency'.

At this point, the Pontiff's reflection went even deeper, prompted by the question: "what fast does the Lord want?". The answer comes again from Scripture, where first of all we read: 'Fold your head like a reed'. That is: to humble oneself. And to those who ask: "How do I humble myself?", the Pope replied: "But think of your sins. Each one of us has many. And 'be ashamed', because even if the world does not know them, God knows them well. This, then, 'is the fast the Lord wants: truth, consistency'.

There is then an addition: "Loose the unrighteous chains" and "remove the bond of the yoke". The examination of conscience, in this case, focuses on the relationship with others. To make himself better understood, the Pope gave a very practical example: "I think of so many maids who earn their bread with their work" and who are often "humiliated, despised". Here his reflection gave way to personal recollection: "Never have I been able to forget a time when I went to a friend's house as a child. I saw my mother slap the maid. Eighty-one years old... I have not forgotten that'. Hence a series of questions ideally addressed to those who have servants: 'How do you treat them? As people or as slaves? Do you pay them fairly, do you give them holidays? Is it a person or is it an animal that helps you in your home?". A request for consistency that also applies to religious, "in our homes, in our institutions: how do I behave with the maid I have at home, with the maids I have at home?". Here the Pontiff added another personal experience, recalling a "very cultured" gentleman who, however, "exploited the maids". and who, when confronted with the consideration that this was "a grave sin" against people who are "the image of God", objected: "No, Father, we must distinguish: these are inferior people".

We must therefore 'remove the bond of the yoke, loosen the iniquitous chains, set the oppressed free, break every yoke'. And, commenting on the prophet who admonishes: "share your bread with the hungry, bring in the wretched, the homeless", the Pope contextualised: "Today we discuss whether or not we give shelter to those who come to ask for it..."

And the indications continue: "Clothe one you see naked", but "without neglecting your relatives". This is real fasting, the kind that involves everyday life. "We need to do penance, we need to feel a little hungry, we need to pray more," Francis said; but if "we do a lot of penance" and do not live fasting in this way, "the sprout that will be born from there" will be "pride", that of someone who says: "I thank you, Lord, because I can fast like a saint". And this, he added, "is the ugly trick", not what Jesus himself suggests "so that others do not see that I fast" (cf. Matthew, 6:16-18).

The question to ask, the Pontiff concluded, is: "How do I behave with others? Does my fasting come to help others?". Because if this does not happen, that fast "is fake, it is incoherent and leads you down the path of a double life". One must, therefore, "humbly ask for the grace of consistency."

[Pope Francis, S. Marta, in L'Osservatore Romano 17/02/2018]

Revolution of healthy Tenderness

(Jn 1:29-34)

In the fourth Gospel the Baptist is not «the forerunner», but a «witness» of the Lamb Light that raises basic questions.

Alarmed, the authorities put him under investigation.

But it’s not he who sweeps away «sin», that is, the humiliation of unbridgeable distances - and the inability to correspond to the personal Vocation, for Life without limit.

Hindrance even underlined by the logic of the «world»: by the false teaching, by the very structure of the ancient official institution, so linked to the interweaving between religion and power.

Condemned to «noon-day» [culmination and full light] on Easter eve, Jesus crosses his earthly end with the hour when the priests of the Temple began to immolate the lambs of propitiation [originally, an apotropaic sacrifice that preceded transhumance].

As for the Lamb of the fathers in foreign land, who had spared them from the slaughter - his Blood gives impetus to cross the land of arid slavery, devoid of warmth and intimate consonance.

As is known, the effigy of the Lamb belongs to the sacrificial theological strand, stemming from the famous text of Isaiah 53 and from all the sacral imagery of the ancient East [which had elaborated a literature and a widespread thought on the King Messiah].

According to the biblical conception, the sovereign was a figure of the whole people and represented them. The Anointed would have had the ideal task of dragging away and atoning for human iniquities.

But Jesus does not "expiate" rather «extirpates». Not even "propitiates": the Father does not reject the precarious condition of his creatures.

In Christ who «supports and removes» all our shame and weaknesses, the Father’s Action is made intimate - for this reason decisive.

He doesn’t annihilate transgressions with a sort of amnesty, even vicarious: it would not be authentic salvation to touch only the suburbs and not the Core, to reactivate us.

An outer dress does not belong to us and will never be ours; it is not assimilated, nor does it become real life. Deletions don’t educate, far from it.

It’s true that a lamb in a world of cunning wolves has no escape. By introducing it you see it perish, but not as a designated victim: it was the only way for the beastmen who believe they were people, to understand that they were still only beasts.

Being considered strong, capable of commanding, excellent, untainted, magnificent, high-performing, extraordinary, glorious... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding. It makes the character we are sitting in, float above reality.

The Risen One introduces into the world a new force, a different dynamism, a way of teaching the soul that becomes a conscious process.

Only by educating us, does the Most High-neighbour annihilate and overcome the instinct of the fairs feeding each other, believing themselves to be authentic human beings - even spiritual.

A third allusion to the figure of the Lamb insists on the votive icon and archetypal category associated with the sacrifice of Abraham, where God himself provides for the victim (Gn 22).

Of course he provides: he did not create us angelic, but malformed, transient. Yet, every divine Gift passes through our shaky ‘condition’ - which is not sin, nor guilt, but a matter of fact; so nourishment, and resource.

We are Perfect in the multiplicity of our creative slopes, even in the limit: a blasphemy for the ancient religious man... a reality for the person of Faith.

Authentic Lamb is not just a [moral] reference: the Meekness of those who are called to give everything of themselves, even their skin.

It is an image of the (blatant) ‘boundary’ of those who could never make it to genius in life, so they ‘let themselves be found’ and loaded on the shoulders.

In this way, no decision-making delirium.

It will be the Friend of our vocational nucleus who will transmit strength and devise the way to make us return to the House that is truly ours: the Tent that stitches together the scattered events.

Dwelling that rewires all the being we should - and maybe even could - have brought to fruit.

Incarnation here means that the Lamb is depiction of an accepted - unusual - globality of the divine Face in men.

Totality finally solid - paradoxical, conciliated - that recovers its opposite innocent, natural, spontaneous, incapable of miracle.

Thus, the Dove, an icon of modest, non-aggressive energy; an example of attachment to one's «own» Nest.

Healthy Tenderness, which starts with self-knowledge.

Lamb and Dove: the peaceful differences - between strong-willed, improper, irritable religiosity, and personal Faith.

[2nd Sunday in O.T.  (year A), January 18, 2026]

Behold the Lamb, in the lambs

(Jn 1:29-34)

In the fourth Gospel, the Baptist is not 'the precursor', but a 'witness' to the Light Lamb who raises fundamental questions.

Alarmed, the authorities investigate him.

But it is not he who sweeps away 'sin', that is, the humiliation of unbridgeable distances - and the inability to respond to one's personal Vocation, to Life without limits.

This hindrance is even emphasised by the logic 'of the world': by false teaching, by the very structure of the ancient official institution, so closely linked to the intertwining of religion and power.

Condemned at 'midday' [the height and full light] of Easter Eve, Jesus' earthly journey coincides with the hour when the priests of the Temple began to sacrifice the lambs of propitiation [originally an apotropaic sacrifice that preceded transhumance].

As with the Lamb of the fathers in a foreign land, who had spared them from slaughter, his Blood gives impetus to cross the land of arid slavery.

The 'Egypt' of the pharaohs, devoid of warmth and intimate harmony (which lead us to premature death).

As is well known, the image of the Lamb belongs to the sacrificial theological tradition, which originated in the famous text of Isaiah 53 and in all the sacred imagery of the ancient East [which had developed a literature and widespread belief in the Messiah King].

According to the biblical conception, the sovereign united and represented the entire people. The Anointed One would have had the ideal task of carrying away and atoning for human iniquities.

But Jesus does not 'atone' but 'uproots'. Nor does he 'propitiate': the Father does not reject the precarious condition of his creatures, nor does he establish a protectorate favourable to a circle (like the God of archaic religions).

In Christ, who 'supports and removes' all our shame and weaknesses, the Father's action becomes intimate - and therefore decisive.

He does not destroy transgressions with a kind of amnesty, even vicarious: it would not be authentic salvation to touch only the peripheries and not the Core, in order to reactivate us.

An external habit does not belong to us and will never be ours; it is not assimilated, nor does it become real life. Amnesties do not educate, quite the contrary.

It is true that a little lamb in a world of cunning wolves has no chance of escape. To present it means to see it perish, but not as a designated victim: it was the only way for the beasts who believe themselves to be people to understand that they are still only beasts.

Being considered strong, capable of commanding, excellent, untainted, magnificent, high-performing, extraordinary, glorious... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding. It makes the character we are sitting in, float above reality.

The Risen One introduces a new force into the world, a different dynamism, a way of instructing the soul that becomes a conscious process.

Only by educating us does the Most High-near destroy and overcome the instinct of beasts that devour each other, believing themselves to be true human beings - even spiritual ones.

A third allusion to the figure of the Lamb insists on the votive icon and archetypal category associated with Abraham's sacrifice, where God himself provides the victim (Genesis 22).

Of course he provides: he did not create us angelic, but rather unstable, transitory. Yet every divine Gift passes through our shaky condition - which is not sin, nor fault, but rather a given; nourishment and resource.

We are Perfect in the multiplicity of our creaturely aspects, even in our limitations: blasphemy for the religious man of old... a reality for the man of Faith.

The authentic Lamb is not just a (moral) reference: it is the meekness of those who are called to give everything of themselves, even their skin.

It is an image of the obvious limitation of those who would never be able to make life brilliant, so they allow themselves to be found and carried on the shoulders of others.

In this way, there is no delusional decision-making.

It will be the Friend of our vocational core who will transmit strength and devise the way to return us to the House that is truly ours: the Tent that stitches together scattered events.

A dwelling that reconnects all the being that we should have - and perhaps even could have - brought to fruition.

The different paths that lead to the founding Eros that belongs to us, intimate and superior, are authentic and at the same time unique to each person.

The Perfection that will emerge along the Way already corresponds to us.

Then the desire to improve according to an ancient or other person's paradigm will no longer be a torment that unnerves the soul, attenuating its completeness.

Incarnation here means that the Lamb is the representation of an unusual, accepted totality of the divine Face in men.

A totality that is finally solid – paradoxical, reconciled – which recovers its innocent, natural, spontaneous opposite, incapable of miracles.

The difference between religiosity and Faith.

The Lamb is not an ego that already has its own path; equipped, self-confident and able to find its way in the world. Perhaps to be accepted, to be on a par with others, to always be in the foreground.

It is the passive virtues and weaknesses - not the artificial ones put on display - that activate the best, most fruitful parts of ourselves, enabling us to look within.

All this, in order to journey through ourselves and our brothers and sisters, overcoming our secret sides and anxieties; transmitting life.

Lamb: not wanting to be there at all costs and as protagonists, always at ease, with certainties on display; too exposed to projections, to other desires for protagonism - and not losing positions.

When we put ourselves on display, we remain completely external and shift our faculties, the other capacities of the heart - such as the need to yield, to let things flow in order to prepare for something else that we do not know. And to turn our gaze, discover new directions, or symbiosis with the different.

This is why we speak of a 'revolution of tenderness' [see below] - which cannot be a guided cultural mask or an expropriating conditioning.

In the end, we realise that people are artificial: they act out holiness - some only to gain spiritual superiority over the naive and innocent who are caught up in an authentically interior and fraternal gaze.

The Lamb is an image of stability in goodness, first and foremost received as a gift and perhaps not even invoked, but recognisable - which therefore reveals both the innate silence and the unexpected colours of the soul and of events.

Step by step, it becomes a deep knowledge of ourselves, a figure of orientation and solid dialogue to rely on, activating that singular hope full of intensity that tears us away from infatuations.

We hang on his universal and simple words.

They open our consciousness - overcoming both our demons and the shrill resonances of those who stand beside us to feel important (and govern relationships).

Incorporated into the Lamb, we enter into the right spirit of the inner journey. Then we continue willingly - never alone and orphaned; as Together - in the search for our own unique way of completing ourselves and becoming Food.

The Tao Te Ching (xv) asks:

'Who is capable of being restless in order to gradually clarify by resting? Who is capable of being placid in order to gradually live, removing over time?'.

Master Wang Pi comments:

'The man of supreme virtue is like this: his omens are not scrutinisable, the direction of his virtue is not manifest. If he perfects creatures by remaining obscure, he illuminates them; if he makes creatures rest by being restless, he clarifies them; if he removes creatures by remaining placid, he brings them to life'.

Christ the Lamb is definitely the beneficial therapeutic image of the soul seeking nourishment - and of our energetic destiny, even during normal occupations.

Then they will seem almost like a song, vibrating around us.

To internalise and live the message:

What does the expression 'the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world' mean to you?

Healthy tenderness: selfishness without reduction

The saint is the one who, following his own path in the wake of the Risen One, has learned to 'identify with the other, without paying attention to where [or] where from [...] ultimately experiencing that others are his own flesh' (cf. FT 84).

No plant lives only in the light: it would die. No animal: it would perish - if it did not have its den in the shade.

The man who denies his dark side is lying. And he would never enjoy Joy, the fruit of the Alliance between our multifaceted aspects.

Biblical spirituality is not empty; on the contrary, it is very sober and linked to concrete and multifaceted life, sometimes opposed - not at all inclined to sentimental consolation or unilateral retreats.

In Deuteronomy 6:4-5 [Hebrew text], the love owed to the Lord involves 'all your heart', that is, all your decisions, 'all your life', that is, every moment of your existence, and 'all your very being'. That is, the sharing of goods, which the Son of God understands in a universal sense.

Jesus' proposal evolves decisively towards overcoming barriers, freedom, and awareness.

It tends to recover the entire creaturely being - and is not inclined towards the liturgy of fulfilment, nor towards valuing performances.

The Son of God defines the coordinates of true Love towards the Father in terms that surprise us, because to the ancient criterion he adds questioning oneself in the understanding of the things of man, God and the Church.

Realising, trying to understand, dialoguing to enrich oneself, updating oneself, examining everything... these are not cerebral and individual trappings, but decisive steps towards communion with others and with the Father [Mt 22:37; Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27].

In pagan religions, it made no sense to speak of love for the gods.

They lived a capricious life and decided by lottery who among men should be favoured and who should endure a life of hardship and insignificance.

The fortunate (materially blessed) gave thanks by fulfilling prescriptions, e.g. obligations of worship; the others did the same - at least to keep the heavenly hosts happy and not be the object of retaliation from above.

Fear creates hierarchical pyramids. Love puts everyone on an equal footing.

Obviously, with the burden of many duties to observe (in order to win their favour), it was impossible to have much passion for the inhabitants of Olympus, or demigods, nymphs, heroes - in short, for anyone who towered above them.

The invisible and landless were obviously subject to personal and social contempt - sanctified by the indisputable will of the gods, identified with their destination in the slums; in this case, punitive. In any case, swampy.

[Far from the 'bowels of mercy': a maternal expression, common since the First Testament!].

Then the archaic idea of punishment or blessing (even endless) for merits accumulated in life has formed the fabric of religious mentality throughout the ages.

This was the case until recently, even in the civitas christiana in which we live.

Thus, the 'theology of retribution' has effectively destroyed all personal passion, with the hypocritical idea of exchange. As well as meritocracy projected even to the rank of Paradise - worse than selfishness.

Levelling us all to the point of 'ticking boxes'.

The complex procedures of 'weighing the heart' and 'divine judgement' on the souls of the dead are well known, even in the sarcophagi and the Book of the Dead of ancient Egypt.

Forensic-style concatenations that have humiliated the idea of divine justice, which establishes fair conditions and relationships where they do not exist. But these opinions and procedures have become common to all beliefs in the Mediterranean basin and the ancient Middle East.

Now detached from the invasion of obsessive catechesis about the terrible final judgement populated by acolytes armed with pitchforks, we finally feel understood in a personal way, with an exclusively vocational, non-massified criterion.

By virtue of our creaturely nature, we are souls called and activated to a path that can bear unique fruit - a decisive and non-homogeneous contribution to the entire history of salvation. Each one of us.

In the Vision-proposal of Jesus the Lamb, our being is not omnipotent in good; this does not bring any condemnation, not even to the incapable.

We are shaped by the need to receive love - as if we were children in front of parents who raise their children to be healthy with an abundance of initiatives that lead them to surpass themselves.

This is despite their whims; indeed, because of them: a magma of opposing yet malleable energies that see beyond easy identifications and are preparing for subsequent developments.

The experience of evangelical Tenderness does not come from good character and social meekness. It comes from having experienced first-hand the value of eccentricities - and having developed an understanding of one's own dark sides, or reworked and brought into play deviations that at a certain point in life have become amazing resources.

In fact, we can see the same evolution and transmutation in the aspects of ourselves that we do not like and would like to correct... then, as the days go by, they surprise us, and we discover that they are the best part of ourselves: our true inclination and the reason why we were born.

The deviant and unbalanced character of each person contains an essential secret of the Calling by Name and of one's destiny.

From this we start to recognise the specific weight of the differences and the very dissonances of our sisters and brothers, which are equally enriching.

The Lambs' approach is not one of do-goodism (which fluctuates according to the situation and is linked to artificial ways, subtle interests or partisanship): quite the opposite!

As Pope Francis said: 'Lambs, not stupid; but lambs'.

In personal and communal life, evangelical tenderness is real understanding and authentic inclusion of the 'different' - starting not from an erratic, momentary and (volatile) ideology, but from one's own experience of intimate and relational life.

It will lead us to experience a Father who provides well for us, just as we rejoice in the lives of others - enriching our own! - in the confluence and reharmonisation of our many faces.

All-round tenderness, truly convinced; without the standardised masks of the usual 'fixed points' of banal (recited) 'tenderness', perhaps obligatory and activated by a weakened conformist identity.

This is the wise contagion that will make us reborn from the great global crisis: indulgence that does not become hysterical indolence.

And that does not remain sectorial - because it does not start from manners or external knots, but from being oneself and recognising the You here.

Thus, the Dove, an icon of modest, non-aggressive energy; an example of attachment to one's «own» Nest.

Healthy Tenderness, which starts with self-knowledge.

Lamb and Dove: the peaceful differences - between strong-willed, improper, irritable religiosity, and personal Faith.

Together, brothers all, seeds of the Logos.

For a Tenderness of Dialogue without neurosis.

But why did Jesus, in whom there is no shadow of sin, go to be baptized by John? Why did he perform that gesture of penitence and conversion, beside all those people who in this way were trying to prepare for the coming of the Messiah? That gesture — which marks the start of Christ’s public life — comes in continuity with the Incarnation, the descent of God from the highest heaven into the abyss of hell. The meaning of this movement of divine lowering is expressed in a single word: love, the very name of God. The Apostle John writes: “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him”, and he sent him “to be the expiation for our sins” (1 Jn 4:9-10). That is why the first public act of Jesus was to receive baptism from John, who, seeing him approaching, said: “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (Jn 1:29).

Luke the Evangelist recounts that while Jesus, having received baptism, “was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form, as a dove, and a voice came from heaven, ‘Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased’” (3:21-22). This Jesus is the Son of God who is totally immersed in the will of the Father’s love. This Jesus is the One who will die on the cross and rise again through the power of the same Spirit who now descends upon him and consecrates him. This Jesus is the new man who wills to live as the son of God, that is, in love; the man who in the face of the evil of the world, by choosing the path of humility and responsibility he chooses not to save himself but to offer his own life for truth and justice. Being Christian means living like this, but this kind of life involves a rebirth: to be reborn from on high, from God, from Grace. This rebirth is the Baptism, which Christ gives to the Church in order to regenerate men and women to new life. An ancient text attributed to St Hippolytus states: “Whoever goes down into these waters of rebirth with faith renounces the devil and pledges himself to Christ. He repudiates the enemy and confesses that Christ is God, throws off his servitude, and is raised to filial status” Discourse on the Epiphany, 10: PG 10, 862).

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 13 January 2013]

“Heart of Jesus, victim of sins, have mercy on us”.
1. Dear brothers and sisters, this invocation from the Litany of the Sacred Heart reminds us that Jesus, according to the words of the Apostle Paul, “was put to death for our sins” (Rom 4:25); although he had committed no sin, “God treated him as sin on our behalf” (2 Cor 5:21). The immense weight of the sin of the world rested on the Heart of Christ.
In him, the figure of the "Paschal Lamb" was perfectly fulfilled, a victim offered to God so that the firstborn of the Hebrews might be spared by the sign of his blood (cf. Ex 12:21-27). Rightly, therefore, John the Baptist recognised in him the true "Lamb of God" (Jn 1:29): - an innocent lamb, who had taken upon himself the sin of the world to immerse it in the healing waters of the Jordan (cf. Mt 3:3-16 et par.); - a meek lamb, "led like a sheep to the slaughter, as a sheep before its shearers is silent" (Is 53:7), so that his divine silence might confound the proud words of wicked men.
Jesus is a willing victim, because he offered himself "freely to his passion" (Missale Romanum, Prex euchar. II), as a victim of expiation for the sins of men (cf. Lev 1:4; Heb 10:5-10). which he consumed in the fire of his love.
2. Jesus is the eternal victim. Risen from the dead and glorified at the right hand of the Father, he preserves in his immortal body the marks of the wounds in his hands and feet, and his pierced side (cf. Jn 20:27; Lk 24:39-40) and presents them to the Father in his unceasing prayer of intercession on our behalf (cf. Heb 7:25; Rom 8:34).
The wonderful sequence of the Easter Mass, recalling this fact of our faith, exhorts us:
"To the Paschal victim, / let the sacrifice of praise be offered today. / The Lamb has redeemed his flock. / The innocent one has reconciled us sinners with the Father" (Sequentia "Victimae Paschali", str. 1).
And the preface of this solemnity proclaims:
Christ is "the true Lamb who took away the sins of the world; / it is he who, by dying, destroyed death, / and by rising, restored life to us".
3. Brothers and sisters, in this hour of Marian prayer we have contemplated the Heart of Jesus, victim of our sins; but first of all and most deeply of all, his sorrowful Mother contemplated it, of whom the liturgy sings: "For the sins of her people / she saw Jesus in the torments / of the harsh punishment" (Sequentia "Stabat Mater", str 7).
As we approach the liturgical memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Sorrows, we remember this intrepid and intercessory presence of Our Lady beneath the Cross of Calvary, and we think with immense gratitude that, at that moment, the dying Christ, victim of the sins of the world, entrusted her to us as our Mother: "Behold your Mother" (Jn 19:27).
We entrust our prayer to Mary, as we say to her Son Jesus:
Heart of Jesus, victim of our sins, accept our praise, our eternal gratitude, our sincere repentance. Have mercy on us, today and always. Amen.
[Pope John Paul II, Angelus, 10 September 1989]

This second Sunday of Ordinary Time is in continuity with the Epiphany and the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus. The Gospel passage (cf. Jn 1: 29-34) again speaks to us of the manifestation of Jesus. Indeed, after being baptized in the River Jordan, He was consecrated by the Holy Spirit Who came upon Him, and was proclaimed Son of God by the voice of the heavenly Father (cf. Mt 3: 16-17 et seq.). The Evangelist John, unlike the other three, does not describe the event, but proposes to us the witness of John the Baptist. He was the first witness of Christ. God had called him and prepared him for this.

The Baptist cannot hold back the urgent desire to bear witness to Jesus and declares: “I have seen and have borne witness” (v. 34). John saw something shocking, that is, the beloved Son of God in solidarity with sinners; and the Holy Spirit made him understand this unheard-of novelty, a true reversal. In fact, while in all religions it is man who offers and sacrifices something to God, in the event Jesus is God Who offers His Son for the salvation of humanity. John manifests his astonishment and his consent to this newness brought by Jesus, through a meaningful expression that we repeat each time in the Mass: “Behold the Lamb of God, Who takes away the sin of the world!” (v. 29).

The testimony of John the Baptist invites us to start out again and again on our journey of faith: to start afresh from Jesus Christ, the Lamb full of mercy that the Father gave for us. Let us be surprised once again by God’s choice to be on our side, to show solidarity with us sinners, and to save the world from evil by taking it on fully.

Let us learn from John the Baptist not to assume that we already know Jesus, that we already know everything about Him (cf. v. 31). This is not so. Let us pause with the Gospel, perhaps even contemplating an icon of Christ, a “Holy face”. Let us contemplate with our eyes and yet more with our hearts; and let us allow ourselves to be instructed by the Holy Spirit, Who tells us inside: It is He! He is the Son of God made lamb, immolated out of love. He alone has brought, He alone has suffered, He alone has atoned for sin, the sin of each one of us, the sin of the world, and also my sins. All of them. He brought them all upon Himself and took them away from us, so that we would finally be free, no longer slaves to evil. Yes, we are still poor sinners, but not slaves, no, not slaves: children, children of God!

May the Virgin Mary obtain for us the strength to bear witness to her Son Jesus; to proclaim Him with joy with a life freed from evil and a word full of astonished and grateful faith.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 19 January 2020]

Sitting and keeping eyes on the accounting records, only then rich - nay, ‘sir’

(Mk 2:13-17)

At the time when Mk drafted his Gospel, in the communities of Rome a friction arose over the kind of eligible participation in meetings, and on Breaking the Bread.

Opinions conflict that confronted one against the other the group of converts from paganism and the Judaizers.

Mk narrates the episode of Levi [avoiding explicitly calling him Matthew] to accentuate his derivation - and in this way describing how Jesus himself had faced the same conflict: without any ritual or sacred attention, except to man.

The evangelist thus intended to help the faithful to understand the leap from common religiosity to Faith in the Person of Christ, and trust in the brethren, without distinction.

To this end, the Gospel passage emphasizes that the apostles themselves (v.15) had not been called by the Lord at all to the rigourous segregation practice typical of ethnic-purist beliefs.

Mk’s Good News is that life of Communion is neither a gratification, nor a recognition.

The Eucharist is not a reward for merits, nor a discrimination in favor of sacral marginalization.

Prohibition must be replaced by friendship. Intransigence must be supplanted by indulgence, hardness by condescension.

The disciples of the Lord must share existence with anyone - even public sinners like the son of Alpheus.

This without first demanding any license, nor long disciplines of the arcane - or practices that celebrate distances [such as ablutions that preceded the meal].

In the parallel text of Mt 9,9-13 the tax collector is explicitly called by name: Matthew, in order to emphasize the identical appeal to the community.

Matathiah means «man of God», «given by God»; precisely «Gift of God» [Matath-Yah].

According to the direct teaching of Jesus himself - even towards one of the apostles - the only impurity is that of not giving space to those who ask for it because they have none.

The Lord wants to share with transgressors, not because of an ideological banality: it is the invitation to recognize themselves. Not to subject ourselves to some demeaning paternalism, but because allowing ourselves to be transformed from poor or rich into 'lords' is an asset.

«And it happens that He lies [at canteen] in His House and many tax collectors and sinners were lying down with Jesus and his disciples, because they were multitudes and they followed him» (v.15).

«They were lying down at canteen»: according to the way of celebrating solemn banquets by ‘free’ men - now all free.

How wonderful, such a ‘monstrance’! A living Body of Christ that smells of concrete Union, conviviality of differences - not of rejections for transgression!

It is such all empathetic and regal the beautiful awareness that paves the way and makes credible the content of the Announcement (v.17) - although it impacts the susceptibility of the official teachers.

But Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationship, and a New Covenant, of fruitful divergences - even within us.

It is not ‘perfection’ that makes us love the Exodus.

[Saturday 1st wk. in O.T.  January 17, 2026]

But can he participate in the rite?

(Mk 2:13-17)

Jesus does not exclude anyone from his friendship. The good proclamation of the Gospel consists precisely in this: in the offer of God's grace to the sinner! In the figure of Matthew, therefore, the Gospels propose to us a real paradox: the one who is apparently furthest from holiness can even become a model of welcoming God's mercy and allow us to glimpse its wonderful effects in his own existence.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 30 August 2006].

At the time when Mk wrote his Gospel (civil war in the year of the four Caesars) friction arose in the communities of Rome over the kind of permissible participation in meetings, and the Breaking of Bread.

Conflict of opinion pitted the group of converts from paganism and the Judaizing group against each other: the latter did not like habitual contact with those far from their mentality, but rather distinction.

Friction arose both in the assemblies and in the quality of everyday fraternal life. E.g. those from Judaism did not like to enter the homes of pagans - much less did they like to share the table with the (supposedly) defiled.

These church brethren were accustomed to still sacredly consider it profane to have any contiguity with anyone, or even to accept the judged infected.

The devout conception of moral subdivisions led them to believe that it was necessary to keep newcomers at a distance, under the simple suspicion that they had perhaps not adapted to the (as yet undemythologised) identity weight of Semitic traditions.

The evangelist narrates the episode of Levi [avoiding explicitly calling it Matthew] to accentuate its paradoxically cultic and Semitic derivation.

Thus Mk wants to describe how Jesus himself faced the same conflict as above: without any ritual or sacral attention, except to man.

In short, according to the Master, in the journey of Faith, the relationship with the distant and different, and our own hardships or hidden abysses, have something to tell us.

Mk intended to help the Judeo-Christian faithful to understand the leap of Faith in itinere - compared with common religiosity, full of absurd beliefs, separations, squeamish attitudes.

The discriminating opening is hope in life itself, which comes and calls to surrender artificial positions, so here is the possibility of inserting the teaching, the story, the Person of Christ.

He leads to existential reliance, to global trust; to believing the story of the public sinner, who is everyone, to be his own.

To proceed on such a Path one starts from the unexpressed energies of one's own primordial states, recognised, assumed, made personally fruitful and dilated in one's brothers and sisters; without distinction.

To this end, the Gospel passage emphasises that in its time the apostles (v.15) had by no means been called by the Lord to the same rigorous practice of segregation typical of ethno-purist beliefs, which nevertheless prevailed around them.

Therefore, the believers of the late 60s did not have to keep themselves apart: rather, they needed to learn how to break the isolation of the norms of social and cultic conformity.

The Father is Friendly Presence.

The Glad Tidings of that pericope is that the life of fraternity and coexistence is not gratification or recognition.

The Eucharist is therefore not a reward for merit, nor a discriminator in favour of sacred marginalisation - or adult casuistry.

God does not complicate our existence, burdening it with too many obligations and duties that weigh down our days and our whole life; on the contrary, He sweeps them away.

For this reason, the figure of the new Rabbi touched people's hearts, without borders.

In short, for us too, prohibition must be replaced by friendship. Intransigence must be supplanted by indulgence; harshness by condescension.

In such an adventure we are not called to forms of disassociation: we start with ourselves.

Thus one arrives without hysteria at micro-relationships, and without ideological charges, at the current even devout mentality.

No more bogus goals, superficial objectives, obsessions and useless reasoning, nor mechanical habits, ancient or others' [never reworked in themselves].

With such an experience of inner excavation and identification, women and men of Faith must share life with anyone - even with known transgressors like the son of Alphaeus; seeing themselves in them, laying down artifices.

Without first demanding any license, nor long disciplines of the arcane or pious practices that celebrate detachment, such as the ablutions that preceded the meal.

In the parallel text of Matthew 9:9-13, the tax collector is explicitly called by name: Matthew. This is to emphasise the same content - the identical call to community. 

Matathiah in fact means 'man of God', 'given by God'; precisely 'Gift of God' (Matath-Yah) [despite the anger of the official authorities].

According to the direct teaching of Jesus himself - even with regard to one of the apostles - the only impurity the Father does not tolerate is that of not giving space to those who ask for it because they have none.

The Lord wants full communion with transgressors, not because of an ideological banality: it is the invitation to acknowledge, confess, agree, share.

Not to subject his intimates to some form of humiliating paternalism: knowing oneself to be incomplete and allowing oneself to be transformed from poor or rich into 'lords' is a resource.

"And it came to pass that He reclined at Canteen in His House, and many publicans and sinners were reclining with Jesus and His disciples, for they were multitudes and followed Him" (v.15 Greek text).

"They were stretched out [at table]": in keeping with the way solemn banquets were celebrated by 'free' men - now all free.

How wonderful, such a 'monstrance'! A living Body of Christ that smells of concrete union, conviviality of differences - not rejection by transgression!

It is this empathetic and regal beautiful awareness that smoothes out and makes credible the content of the proclamation (v.17) - even though it strikes the susceptibility of the official teachers.

From now on, the division between believers and non-believers will be far more humanising than between "born again" and not, or pure and impure.

A whole other carat - the principle of a saved life that unfolds and overflows beyond the clubs.

Christ also calls, welcomes and redeems the Levi in us, that is, the more rubric - or worn-out - side of our personality.

Even our unbearable or rightly hated character: the rigid one and the - equally our - rubricist one.

By reintegrating opposites, it will even make them flourish: they will become inclusive, indispensable, allied and intimately winning aspects of the future testimony, empowered with genuine love.

Being considered strong, capable of leading, observant, excellent, pristine, magnificent, performing, extraordinary, glorious, unfailing... damages people.

It puts a mask on us, makes us one-sided; it takes away understanding. It floats the character we are sitting in, above reality.

For one's growth and blossoming, more important than always winning is to learn to accept, to surrender to the point of capitulation; to make oneself considered deficient, inadequate.

Says the Tao Tê Ching [XLV]: 'Great uprightness is like sinuousness, great skill is like ineptitude, great eloquence is like stammering'.

The artificial norm (unfortunately, sometimes also the unwise leadership) makes one live according to success and external glory, obtained through compartmentalisation.

Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationship, and 'covenants' of fruitful divergence - a New Covenant, even within ourselves.

Here, the Word alone 'Follow Me' (v.14) [not 'others'] creates everything.

The Master's Wisdom and the multifaceted art of Nature [exemplified in the crystalline wisdom of the Tao] lead all to be incisive and human.

It is not 'perfection' that makes us love Exodus.

To internalise and live the message:

What is your spiritual and human strength? How was it generated?

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

Continuing the series of portraits of the Twelve Apostles that we began a few weeks ago, let us reflect today on Matthew. To tell the truth, it is almost impossible to paint a complete picture of him because the information we have of him is scarce and fragmentary. What we can do, however, is to outline not so much his biography as, rather, the profile of him that the Gospel conveys.

In the meantime, he always appears in the lists of the Twelve chosen by Jesus (cf. Mt 10: 3; Mk 3: 18; Lk 6: 15; Acts 1: 13).

His name in Hebrew means "gift of God". The first canonical Gospel, which goes under his name, presents him to us in the list of the Twelve, labelled very precisely: "the tax collector" (Mt 10: 3).

Thus, Matthew is identified with the man sitting at the tax office whom Jesus calls to follow him: "As Jesus passed on from there, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax office; and he said to him, "Follow me'. And he rose and followed him" (Mt 9: 9). Mark (cf. 2: 13-17) and Luke (cf. 5: 27-30), also tell of the calling of the man sitting at the tax office, but they call him "Levi".

To imagine the scene described in Mt 9: 9, it suffices to recall Caravaggio's magnificent canvas, kept here in Rome at the Church of St Louis of the French.

A further biographical detail emerges from the Gospels: in the passage that immediately precedes the account of the call, a miracle that Jesus worked at Capernaum is mentioned (cf. Mt 9: 1-8; Mk 2: 1-12) and the proximity to the Sea of Galilee, that is, the Lake of Tiberias (cf. Mk 2: 13-14).

It is possible to deduce from this that Matthew exercised the function of tax collector at Capernaum, which was exactly located "by the sea" (Mt 4: 13), where Jesus was a permanent guest at Peter's house.

On the basis of these simple observations that result from the Gospel, we can advance a pair of thoughts.

The first is that Jesus welcomes into the group of his close friends a man who, according to the concepts in vogue in Israel at that time, was regarded as a public sinner.

Matthew, in fact, not only handled money deemed impure because of its provenance from people foreign to the People of God, but he also collaborated with an alien and despicably greedy authority whose tributes moreover, could be arbitrarily determined.

This is why the Gospels several times link "tax collectors and sinners" (Mt 9: 10; Lk 15: 1), as well as "tax collectors and prostitutes" (Mt 21: 31).

Furthermore, they see publicans as an example of miserliness (cf. Mt 5: 46: they only like those who like them), and mention one of them, Zacchaeus, as "a chief tax collector, and rich" (Lk 19: 2), whereas popular opinion associated them with "extortioners, the unjust, adulterers" (Lk 18: 11).

A first fact strikes one based on these references: Jesus does not exclude anyone from his friendship. Indeed, precisely while he is at table in the home of Matthew-Levi, in response to those who expressed shock at the fact that he associated with people who had so little to recommend them, he made the important statement: "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I came not to call the righteous, but sinners" (Mk 2: 17).

The good news of the Gospel consists precisely in this: offering God's grace to the sinner!

Elsewhere, with the famous words of the Pharisee and the publican who went up to the Temple to pray, Jesus actually indicates an anonymous tax collector as an appreciated example of humble trust in divine mercy: while the Pharisee is boasting of his own moral perfection, the "tax collector... would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, "God, be merciful to me a sinner!'".

And Jesus comments: "I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted" (Lk 18: 13-14).

Thus, in the figure of Matthew, the Gospels present to us a true and proper paradox: those who seem to be the farthest from holiness can even become a model of the acceptance of God's mercy and offer a glimpse of its marvellous effects in their own lives.

St John Chrysostom makes an important point in this regard: he notes that only in the account of certain calls is the work of those concerned mentioned. Peter, Andrew, James and John are called while they are fishing, while Matthew, while he is collecting tithes.

These are unimportant jobs, Chrysostom comments, "because there is nothing more despicable than the tax collector, and nothing more common than fishing" (In Matth. Hom.: PL 57, 363). Jesus' call, therefore, also reaches people of a low social class while they go about their ordinary work.

Another reflection prompted by the Gospel narrative is that Matthew responds instantly to Jesus' call: "he rose and followed him". The brevity of the sentence clearly highlights Matthew's readiness in responding to the call. For him it meant leaving everything, especially what guaranteed him a reliable source of income, even if it was often unfair and dishonourable. Evidently, Matthew understood that familiarity with Jesus did not permit him to pursue activities of which God disapproved.

The application to the present day is easy to see: it is not permissible today either to be attached to things that are incompatible with the following of Jesus, as is the case with riches dishonestly achieved.

Jesus once said, mincing no words: "If you would be perfect, go, sell what you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me" (Mt 19: 21).

This is exactly what Matthew did: he rose and followed him! In this "he rose", it is legitimate to read detachment from a sinful situation and at the same time, a conscious attachment to a new, upright life in communion with Jesus.

Lastly, let us remember that the tradition of the ancient Church agrees in attributing to Matthew the paternity of the First Gospel. This had already begun with Bishop Papias of Hierapolis in Frisia, in about the year 130.

He writes: "Matthew set down the words (of the Lord) in the Hebrew tongue and everyone interpreted them as best he could" (in Eusebius of Cesarea, Hist. Eccl. III, 39, 16).

Eusebius, the historian, adds this piece of information: "When Matthew, who had first preached among the Jews, decided also to reach out to other peoples, he wrote down the Gospel he preached in his mother tongue; thus, he sought to put in writing, for those whom he was leaving, what they would be losing with his departure" (ibid., III, 24, 6).

The Gospel of Matthew written in Hebrew or Aramaic is no longer extant, but in the Greek Gospel that we possess we still continue to hear, in a certain way, the persuasive voice of the publican Matthew, who, having become an Apostle, continues to proclaim God's saving mercy to us. And let us listen to St Matthew's message, meditating upon it ever anew also to learn to stand up and follow Jesus with determination.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 30 August 2006]