“Heaven" as the fullness of intimacy with God

Reading: 1 Jn 3:2-3

1. When the form of this world has passed away, those who have welcomed God into their lives and have sincerely opened themselves to his love, at least at the moment of death, will enjoy that fullness of communion with God which is the goal of human life.

As the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches, “this perfect life with the Most Holy Trinity — this communion of life and love with the Trinity, with the Virgin Mary, the angels and all the blessed — is called ‘heaven’. Heaven is the ultimate end and fulfilment of the deepest human longings, the state of supreme, definitive happiness” (n. 1024).

Today we will try to understand the biblical meaning of “heaven”, in order to have a better understanding of the reality to which this expression refers.

2. In biblical language “heaven”, when it is joined to the “earth”, indicates part of the universe. Scripture says about creation: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gn 1:1).

Metaphorically speaking, heaven is understood as the dwelling-place of God, who is thus distinguished from human beings (cf. Ps 104:2f.; 115:16; Is 66:1). He sees and judges from the heights of heaven (cf. Ps 113:4-9) and comes down when he is called upon (cf. Ps 18:9, 10; 144:5). However the biblical metaphor makes it clear that God does not identify himself with heaven, nor can he be contained in it (cf. 1 Kgs 8:27); and this is true, even though in some passages of the First Book of the Maccabees “Heaven” is simply one of God's names (1 Mc 3:18, 19, 50, 60; 4:24, 55).

The depiction of heaven as the transcendent dwelling-place of the living God is joined with that of the place to which believers, through grace, can also ascend, as we see in the Old Testament accounts of Enoch (cf. Gn 5:24) and Elijah (cf. 2 Kgs 2:11). Thus heaven becomes an image of life in God. In this sense Jesus speaks of a “reward in heaven” (Mt 5:12) and urges people to “lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (ibid., 6:20; cf. 19:21).

3. The New Testament amplifies the idea of heaven in relation to the mystery of Christ. To show that the Redeemer's sacrifice acquires perfect and definitive value, the Letter to the Hebrews says that Jesus “passed through the heavens” (Heb 4:14), and “entered, not into a sanctuary made with hands, a copy of the true one, but into heaven itself” (ibid., 9:24). Since believers are loved in a special way by the Father, they are raised with Christ and made citizens of heaven. It is worthwhile listening to what the Apostle Paul tells us about this in a very powerful text: “God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up with him, and made us sit with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Eph 2:4-7). The fatherhood of God, who is rich in mercy, is experienced by creatures through the love of God's crucified and risen Son, who sits in heaven on the right hand of the Father as Lord.

4. After the course of our earthly life, participation in complete intimacy with the Father thus comes through our insertion into Christ's paschal mystery. St Paul emphasizes our meeting with Christ in heaven at the end of time with a vivid spatial image: “Then we who are alive, who are left, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words” (1 Thes 4:17-18).

In the context of Revelation, we know that the “heaven” or “happiness” in which we will find ourselves is neither an abstraction nor a physical place in the clouds, but a living, personal relationship with the Holy Trinity. It is our meeting with the Father which takes place in the risen Christ through the communion of the Holy Spirit.

It is always necessary to maintain a certain restraint in describing these “ultimate realities” since their depiction is always unsatisfactory. Today, personalist language is better suited to describing the state of happiness and peace we will enjoy in our definitive communion with God.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church sums up the Church's teaching on this truth: “By his death and Resurrection, Jesus Christ has ‘opened’ heaven to us. The life of the blessed consists in the full and perfect possession of the fruits of the redemption accomplished by Christ. He makes partners in his heavenly glorification those who have believed in him and remained faithful to his will. Heaven is the blessed community of all who are perfectly incorporated into Christ” (n. 1026).

5. This final state, however, can be anticipated in some way today in sacramental life, whose centre is the Eucharist, and in the gift of self through fraternal charity. If we are able to enjoy properly the good things that the Lord showers upon us every day, we will already have begun to experience that joy and peace which one day will be completely ours. We know that on this earth everything is subject to limits, but the thought of the “ultimate” realities helps us to live better the “penultimate” realities. We know that as we pass through this world we are called to seek “the things that are above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God” (Col 3:1), in order to be with him in the eschatological fulfilment, when the Spirit will fully reconcile with the Father “all things, whether on earth or in heaven” (Col 1:20).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 21 July 1999]

But the Christian paradox is that the Judge is not vested in the fearful trappings of royalty, but is the shepherd filled with meekness and mercy.

In fact, in this parable of the final judgement, Jesus uses the image of a shepherd, recalling images of the prophet Ezekiel who had spoken of God’s intervention in favour of his people against the evil shepherds of Israel (cf. 34:1-10). They had been cruel exploiters, preferring to feed themselves rather than the flock; therefore, God himself promises to personally take care of his flock, defending it from injustice and abuse. This promise God made to his people is fully accomplished in Jesus Christ, the Shepherd. He is indeed the Good Shepherd. He too says of himself: “I am the good shepherd” (Jn 10:11, 14).

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus identifies himself not only with the king-shepherd, but also with the lost sheep, we can speak of a “double identity”: the king-shepherd, Jesus identifies also with the sheep: that is, with the least and most needy of his brothers and sisters. And he thus indicates the criterion of the judgement: it will be made on the basis of concrete love given or denied to these persons, because he himself, the judge, is present in each one of them. He is the judge. He is God-Man, but he is also the poor one. He is hidden and present in the person of the poor people that he mentions right there. Jesus says: “Truly, I say to you, as you did it (or did it not) to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it (you did it not) to me” (cf. vv. 40, 45). We will be judged on love. The judgement will be on love, not on feelings, no: we will be judged on works, on compassion that becomes nearness and kind help. Do I draw near to Jesus present in the persons of the sick, the poor, the suffering, the imprisoned, of those who hunger and thirst for justice? Do I draw near to Jesus present there? This is the question for today.

Therefore, at the end of the world, the Lord will inspect the flock, and he will do so not only from the perspective of the shepherd, but also from the perspective of the sheep, with whom he has identified. And he will ask us: “Were you a little bit like a shepherd as myself?” “Were you a shepherd to me who was present in those people who were in need, or were you indifferent?”. Brothers and sisters, let us look at the logic of indifference, of those who come to mind immediately. Looking away when we see a problem. Let us remember the parable of the Good Samaritan. That poor man, wounded by the brigands, thrown to the ground, between life and death, was there alone. A priest passed by, saw, and went on his way. He looked the other way. A Levite passed by, saw and looked the other way. Before my brothers and sisters in need, am I indifferent like this priest, like this Levite and look the other way? I will be judged on this: on how I drew near, how I looked on Jesus present in those in need. This is the logic, and it is not I who is saying this: Jesus says it. “What you did to that person and that person and that person, you did it to me. And what you did not do to that person and that person and that person, you did not do it to me, because I was there”. May Jesus teach us this logic, this logic of being close, of drawing near to him, with love, in the person who is suffering most.

Let us ask the Virgin Mary to teach us to reign by serving. Our Lady, assumed into Heaven, received the royal crown from her son because she followed him faithfully — she is the first disciple — on the way of Love. Let us learn from her to enter God’s Kingdom as of now through the door of humble and generous service. And let us return home only with this phrase: “I was present there. Thank you!”. Or: “You forgot about me”.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 22 November 2020].

But he comes to us every day

The Gospel passage opens with a grandiose vision. Jesus, addressing his disciples, says: “When the Son of man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne” (Mt 25:31). It is a solemn introduction to the narrative of the Last Judgment. After having lived his earthly existence in humility and poverty, Jesus now shows himself in the divine glory that pertains to him, surrounded by hosts of angels. All of humanity is summoned before him and he exercises his authority, separating one from another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

To those whom he has placed at his right he says: “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me” (vv. 34-36). The righteous are taken aback, because they do not recall ever having met Jesus, much less having helped him in that way, but he declares: “as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (v. 40). These words never cease to move us, because they reveal the extent to which God’s love goes: up to the point of taking flesh, but not when we are well, when we are healthy and happy, no; but when we are in need. And in this hidden way he allows himself to be encountered; he reaches out his hand to us as a mendicant. In this way Jesus reveals the decisive criterion of his judgment, namely, concrete love for a neighbour in difficulty. And in this way the power of love, the kingship of God is revealed: in solidarity with those who suffer in order to engender everywhere compassion and works of mercy.

The Parable of the Judgment continues, presenting the King who shuns those who, during their lives, did not concern themselves with the needs of their brethren. Those in this case too are surprised and ask: “Lord, when did we see thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to thee?” (v. 44). Implying: “Had we seen you, surely we would have helped you!”. But the King will respond: “as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me” (v. 45). At the end of our life we will be judged on love, that is, on our concrete commitment to love and serve Jesus in our littlest and neediest brothers and sisters. That mendicant, that needy person who reaches out his hand is Jesus; that sick person whom I must visit is Jesus; that inmate is Jesus, that hungry person is Jesus. Let us consider this.

Jesus will come at the end of time to judge all nations, but he comes to us each day, in many ways, and asks us to welcome him. May the Virgin Mary help us to encounter him and receive him in his Word and in the Eucharist, and at the same time in brothers and sisters who suffer from hunger, disease, oppression, injustice. May our hearts welcome him in the present of our life, so that we may be welcomed by him into the eternity of his Kingdom of light and peace.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 26 November 2017]

Faith, Temptations: our success

(Mt 4:1-11  Mc 1:12-15  Lc 4:1-13)

Only the man of God is tempted.

In the Bible, temptation is not a kind of danger or seduction for death, but an opportunity for life.

Even more: a relaunch from the usual laces.

When existence runs off without jolts, here is instead the ‘earthquake of flattery’... a trial that puts back in the balance.

Lenten spirituality.

In God's plan, the test of Faith doesn’t come to destroy minds and life, but to disturb the swampy reality of obligations contracted in the quiet of conformist etiquette.

In fact, in the labels we are not ourselves, but a role: here it’s impossible to seriously conform to Christ.

Every danger comes for a healthy jolt, of image too - and to move us.

The exodus stimulates us to take a leap forward; not to bury existence in the anthology of uncritical mechanisms under conditions.

The passage is narrow and it’s also obligatory; hurts. But it spurs so that we can meet again ourselves, our brothers and the world.

Providence presses: it’s educating us to look both every detail and the fundamental option in face.

To get out of dangers, ‘seductions’ or disturbances, we are obliged to look inside and bring out all the resources, even those unknown (or to which we have not granted credit).

The difficulty and the crisis force us to find solutions, give space to the neglected and shaded sides; see well, ask for help; get informed, enter into a qualitative relationship and compare ourselves.

Of necessity, virtue: after attraction and enticement or trial, the renewed point of view, reaffirmed by a new evaluation, questions the soul about the calibre of choices and our own infirmities.

Unsteady situations themselves have something to tell us: they come from the deepest layers of being, which we must encounter - and they take the form of mouldable energies, to invest.

The Calls to revolutionize opinions of oneself and of things - vocations to a ‘new birth’ - are not incitements for the worst, nor spiritual humiliations.

The "crosses" and even the dazzles are a territory of pain that leads to intimate contact with our Source, which re-arouses us from time to time.

The man who is always listening to his own Core and remains faithful to the singular dignity and uniqueness of the Mission, however, must bear the pressures of a kind of evil that only instigates death.

Mt and Lk describe these (‘apparently friendly’, for success) enticements in three symbolic pictures:

the relationship with things [turning stones into bread]; with others [temptation of kingdoms]; with God [Trust in the Father's Action].

In the Holy Scriptures a curious fact emerges: spiritually weak people are never tempted! And the other way around is also true.

It’s the way of living and internalizing the lightning bolt or the time of Temptation that distinguishes Faith from the banality of devotion any.

[1st Sunday in Lent,  March 9, 2025]

Faith, Temptations: our success

(Mt 4:1-11; Mk 1:12-15; Lk 4:1-13)

Only the man of God is tempted.

In the Bible, temptation is not a kind of danger or seduction to death, but an opportunity for life. Even more: a revival from the usual entanglements.

Optics of Lenten Spirituality:

Every day we verify that a relevant pitfall for the experience of Faith seems to be 'luck'. It binds us to the immediate good of individual situations.

Vice versa, on the other hand, makes routine: here is well-being, escaping from failures and unhappy events, the stasis of the same-as-before.

A devout person can even use religion to sacralise his or her coarse world, bound by habits (considered stable).

So - according to circumstance - even willingly enter into the practice of the sacraments, as long as they remain parentheses that do not mean much.

When existence runs smoothly, here instead is the earthquake of flattery... a challenge that throws one back into the balance.

In God's plan, the test of Faith does not come to destroy minds and existence, but to disturb the swampy reality of obligations contracted in the quiet of conformist etiquette.

In fact, in labels we are not ourselves, but a role: here it is impossible to truly conform to Christ.

Every peril comes for a salutary jolt even of image, and to shake us up.

The Exodus encourages us to take a leap forward - not to drown our existence in the anthology of uncritical mechanisms under conditions, and to submit to the influence of recognised cords; 'useful', but diverting our naturalness.

The passage is narrow and even forced; it wounds. But it spurs us on to meet ourselves, our brothers, and the world again.

Providence presses on: it is educating us to look in the face both every detail and the fundamental option.

We do not grow or mature by settling our souls on everyone's opinions and sitting in majority, habitual, 'respectable', supposedly truthful situations. Yet not very spontaneous, lacking transparency and reciprocity with our founding Eros.

Nor do we become adults by embracing ascetic athleticism, or easier shortcuts of mass, class, cliques, or herd - which make us outsiders.

To emerge from dangers, seductions, disturbances, we are obliged to look within and bring out all resources, even those unknown or to which we have not given credit.

Difficulties and crises force us to find solutions, to give space to the neglected, shadowed sides; to see well and ask for help; to inform ourselves, to enter into a qualitative relationship, and to confront ourselves from within.

Of necessity, virtue: after the attraction and the enticement or the trial, the renewed and reaffirmed point of view from a new evaluation questions the soul about the calibre of choices - about our own infirmities.

They themselves have something to tell us: they come from the deepest layers of being, which we must encounter - in order not to remain disassociated. And they take the form of mouldable energies, then to be invested in.

The calls to revolutionise views of self and of things - the vocations to a new birth - are not incitements to annihilate one's world of relationships, or spurs to the worst, nor spiritual humiliation.

The 'crosses' and even the blunders are a territory of labour pains that guide one to intimate contact with our Source - which from time to time re-awakens us with new genesis, with different births.

The man who always listens to his own centre and remains faithful to the singular dignity and uniqueness of Mission, must however withstand the pressures of an evil that only instigates death.

Mt and Lk describe such seemingly friendly allurements, i.e. for success, in three symbolic pictures:

Here is the relationship with things [stones into bread]; with others [temptation of kingdoms]; with God [on Trust in the Father's Action].

Stones into bread: the Lord's own life tells us that it is better to be defeated than to be well off.

The elusive way - even pious, inert, without direct contact - of relating to material realities is under indictment.

The person, even religious but empty, merely gives or receives directions, or allures with special effects.

He makes use of prestige and his own qualities and titles, almost as if to escape the difficulties that may bother him, involve him at root.

In contrast, the person of Faith is not only empathetic and supportive in form, but fraternal and authentic.

He does not keep a safe distance from problems, nor from what he does not know; he takes Exodus seriously. Paying it.

He feels the impulse to walk the hard path side by side with himself (in deep truth) and with others, without calculation or privilege.

Nor does it deploy resources solely in its own favour - by detaching and retreating, or by making do; by blundering, by conforming to the club of conformists from the relaxation zone and fake security.

Temptation of kingdoms. Our] counterpart is not exaggerating (Mt 4:9; Lk 4:6): the logic that governs the idolatrous kingdom has nothing to do with God.

To take, to ascend, to command; to grasp, to appear, to subjugate: these are the worst ways of dealing with others, who seem to be there only for utility, and to be stools, or to annoy us.

The lust for power is so irrepressible, so capable of seduction, that it seems to be a specific attribute of the divine condition: to be on high.

Although he could get ahead, Jesus did not want to confuse us by leading, but by shortening the distance.

In history, unfortunately, several churchmen have been unclear. They have willingly exchanged the apron of service and the towel of our feet for the torn chair and a coveted office.

Puppet idols not to be worshipped.

The final temptation - the culmination of the Temple's 'guarantee of protection' - seems like the others a trivial piece of advice in our favour. Even for 'success' in our relationship with God - after that with things and people.

But what is at stake here is full Trust in the Father's Action. He imparts life, ceaselessly strengthening and expanding our being.

Even in the opportunities that seem less appealing, the Creator ceaselessly generates opportunities for more genuine wholeness and fulfilment, which, reworked without hysteria, accentuate the wave of life.

He increasingly presses for the canons to be crossed. And the creaturely being transpires. Therein lurks a secret, a Mystery, a destination.

His is a thrust far from being planted on the spectacle-miracle, or on sacred assurance [which then shies away from unwelcome insights and risky risks].

A curious fact emerges in the Holy Scriptures: spiritually sluggish people are never tempted! And the reverse is also true.

It is the way of living and internalising the lightning or the time of Temptation that distinguishes Faith from the banality of any devotion.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

Last Wednesday, with the penitential Rite of Ashes we began Lent, a Season of spiritual renewal in preparation for the annual celebration of Easter. But what does it mean to begin the Lenten journey? The Gospel for this First Sunday of Lent illustrates it for us with the account of the temptations of Jesus in the desert. The Evangelist St Luke recounts that after receiving Baptism from John, "Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan, and was led by the Spirit for forty days in the wilderness, tempted by the devil" (Lk 4: 1). There is a clear insistence on the fact that the temptations were not just an incident on the way but rather the consequence of Jesus' decision to carry out the mission entrusted to him by the Father to live to the very end his reality as the beloved Son who trusts totally in him. Christ came into the world to set us free from sin and from the ambiguous fascination of planning our life leaving God out. He did not do so with loud proclamations but rather by fighting the Tempter himself, until the Cross. This example applies to everyone: the world is improved by starting with oneself, changing, with God's grace, everything in one's life that is not going well. 

The first of the three temptations to which Satan subjects Jesus originates in hunger, that is, in material need: "If you are the Son of God command this stone to become bread". But Jesus responds with Sacred Scripture: "Man shall not live by bread alone" (Lk 4: 3-4; cf. Dt 8: 3). Then the Devil shows Jesus all the kingdoms of the earth and says: all this will be yours if, prostrating yourself, you worship me. This is the deception of power, and an attempt which Jesus was to unmask and reject: "You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve" (cf. Lk 4: 5-8; Dt 6: 13). Not adoration of power, but only of God, of truth and love. Lastly, the Tempter suggests to Jesus that he work a spectacular miracle: that he throw himself down from the pinnacle of the Temple and let the angels save him so that everyone might believe in him. However, Jesus answers that God must never be put to the test (cf. Dt 6: 16). We cannot "do an experiment" in which God has to respond and show that he is God: we must believe in him! We should not make God "the substance" of "our experiment". Still referring to Sacred Scripture, Jesus puts the only authentic criterion obedience, conformity to God's will, which is the foundation of our existence before human criteria. This is also a fundamental teaching for us: if we carry God's word in our minds and hearts, if it enters our lives, if we trust in God, we can reject every kind of deception by the Tempter. Furthermore, Christ's image as the new Adam emerges clearly from this account. He is the Son of God, humble and obedient to the Father, unlike Adam and Eve who in the Garden of Eden succumbed to the seduction of the evil spirit, of being immortal without God. 

Lent is like a long "retreat" in which to re-enter oneself and listen to God's voice in order to overcome the temptations of the Evil One and to find the truth of our existence. It is a time, we may say, of spiritual "training" in order to live alongside Jesus not with pride and presumption but rather by using the weapons of faith: namely prayer, listening to the Word of God and penance. In this way we shall succeed in celebrating Easter in truth, ready to renew our baptismal promises. May the Virgin Mary help us so that, guided by the Holy Spirit, we may live joyfully and fruitfully this Season of grace.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 21 February 2010]

I am with you always, to the close of the age (Mt 28:20)

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

1. This year, the celebration of Lent, a time of conversion and reconciliation, takes on a particular character, occurring as it does during the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000. The time of Lent is in fact the culminating point of the journey of conversion and reconciliation which the Jubilee, the year of the Lord’s favour, offers to all the faithful, so that they can renew their fidelity to Christ and proclaim his mystery of salvation with renewed ardour in the new millennium. Lent helps Christians to enter more deeply into this “mystery hidden for ages” (Eph 3:9): it leads them to come face to face with the word of the living God and urges them to give up their own selfishness in order to receive the saving activity of the Holy Spirit.

2. We were dead through sin (cf. Eph 2:5): this is how Saint Paul describes the situation of man without Christ. This is why the Son of God wished to unite himself to human nature, ransoming it from the slavery of sin and death.

This is a slavery which man experiences every day, as he perceives its deep roots in his own heart (cf. Mt 7:11). Sometimes it shows itself in dramatic and unusual ways, as happened in the course of the great tragedies of the twentieth century, which deeply marked the lives of countless communities and individuals, the victims of cruel violence. Forced deportations, the systematic elimination of peoples, contempt for the fundamental rights of the person: these are the tragedies which even today humiliate humanity. In daily life too we see all sorts of forms of fraud, hatred, the destruction of others, and lies of which man is both the victim and source. Humanity is marked by sin. Its tragic condition reminds us of the cry of alarm uttered by the Apostle to the nations: “None is righteous, no, not one” (Rom 3:10; cf. Ps 14:3).

3. In the face of the darkness of sin and man’s incapacity to free himself on his own, there appears in all its splendour the saving work of Christ: “God appointed him as a sacrifice for reconciliation, through faith, by the shedding of his blood, and so showed his justness” (Rom 3:25). Christ is the Lamb who has taken upon himself the sin of the world (cf. Jn 1:29). He shared in human life “unto death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8), to ransom mankind from the slavery of evil and restore humanity to its original dignity as children of God. This is the paschal mystery in which we are reborn. Here, as the Easter Sequence says, “Death with life contended, combat strangely ended”. The Fathers of the Church affirm that in Christ Jesus, the devil attacks the whole of humanity and ensnares it in death, from which however it is freed through the victorious power of the Resurrection. In the Risen Lord death’s power is broken and mankind is enabled, through faith, to enter into communion with God. To those who believe, God’s very life is given, through the action of the Holy Spirit, the “first gift to those who believe” (Eucharistic Prayer IV). Thus the redemption accomplished on the Cross renews the universe and brings about the reconciliation of God and man, and of people with one another.

4. The Jubilee is the time of grace in which we are invited to open ourselves in a particular way to the mercy of the Father, who in the Son has stooped down to man, and to reconciliation, the great gift of Christ. This year therefore should become, not only for Christians but also for all people of good will, a precious moment for experiencing the renewing power of God’s forgiving and reconciling love. God offers his mercy to whoever is willing to accept it, even to the distant and doubtful. The people of our time, tired of mediocrity and false hopes, are thus given an opportunity to set out on the path that leads to fullness of life. In this context, Lent of the Holy Year 2000 is par excellence “the acceptable time . . . the day of salvation” (2 Cor 6:2), the particularly favourable opportunity “to be reconciled to God” (2 Cor 5:20).

During the Holy Year the Church offers various opportunities for personal and community reconciliation. Each Diocese has designated special places where the faithful can go in order to experience a particular presence of God, by recognizing in his light their own sinfulness, and though the Sacrament of Reconciliation to set out on a new path of life. Particular significance attaches to pilgrimage to the Holy Land and to Rome, which are special places of encounter with God, because of their unique role in the history of salvation. How could we fail to set out, at least spiritually, to the Land which two thousand years ago witnessed the passage of the Lord? There “the Word became flesh” (Jn 1:14) and “increased in wisdom and in stature, and in favour with God and man” (Lk 2:52); there he “went about all the cities and villages . . . preaching the gospel of the Kingdom and healing every disease and every infirmity” (Mt 9:35); there he accomplished the mission entrusted to him by the Father (cf. Jn 19:30) and poured out the Holy Spirit upon the infant Church (cf. Jn 20:22).

I too hope, precisely during Lent of the year 2000, to be a pilgrim in the Holy Land, to the places where our faith began, in order to celebrate the two-thousandth Jubilee of the Incarnation. I invite all Christians to accompany me with their prayers, while I myself, on the various stages of the pilgrimage, shall ask for forgiveness and reconciliation for the sons and daughters of the Church and for all humanity.

5. The path of conversion leads to reconciliation with God and to fullness of new life in Christ. A life of faith, hope and love. These three virtues, known as the “theological” virtues because they refer directly to God in his mystery, have been the subject of special study during the three years of preparation for the Great Jubilee. The celebration of the Holy Year now calls every Christian to live and bear witness to these virtues in a fuller and more conscious way.

The grace of the Jubilee above all impels us to renew our personal faith. This consists in holding fast to the proclamation of the Paschal Mystery, through which believers recognize that in Christ crucified and risen from the dead they have been given salvation. Day by day they offer him their lives; they accept everything that the Lord wills for them, in the certainty that God loves them. Faith is the “yes” of individuals to God, it is their “Amen”.

For Jews, Christians and Muslims alike, Abraham is the exemplar of the believer: trusting in the promise, he follows the voice of God calling him to set out on unknown paths. Faith helps us to discover the signs of God’s loving presence in creation, in people, in the events of history and above all in the work and message of Christ, as he inspires people to look beyond themselves, beyond appearances, towards that transcendence where the mystery of God’s love for every creature is revealed.

Through the grace of the Jubilee, the Lord likewise invites us to renew our hope. In fact, time itself is redeemed in Christ and opens up to a prospect of unending joy and full communion with God. For Christians, time is marked by an expectation of the eternal wedding feast, anticipated daily at the Eucharistic table. Looking forward to the eternal banquet “the Spirit and Bride say: 'Come' ” (Rev 22:17), nurturing the hope that frees time from mere repetition and gives it its real meaning. Through the virtue of hope, Christians bear witness to the fact that, beyond all evil and beyond every limit, history bears within itself a seed of good which the Lord will cause to germinate in its fullness. They therefore look to the new millennium without fear, and face the challenges and expectations of the future in the confident certainty which is born of faith in the Lord’s promise.

Through the Jubilee, finally, the Lord asks us to rekindle our charity. The Kingdom which Christ will reveal in its full splendour at the end of time is already present where people live in accordance with God’s will. The Church is called to bear witness to the communion, peace and charity which are the Kingdom’s distinguishing marks. In this mission, the Christian community knows that faith without works is dead (cf. Jas 2:17). Thus, through charity, Christians make visible God’s love for man revealed in Christ, and make manifest Christ’s presence in the world “to the close of the age”. For Christians, charity is not just a gesture or an ideal but is, so to speak, the prolongation of the presence of Christ who gives himself.

During Lent, everyone — rich and poor — is invited to make Christ’s love present through generous works of charity. During this Jubilee Year our charity is called in a particular way to manifest Christ’s love to our brothers and sisters who lack the necessities of life, who suffer hunger, violence or injustice. This is the way to make the ideals of liberation and fraternity found in the Sacred Scripture a reality, ideals which the Holy Year puts before us once more. The ancient Jewish jubilee, in fact, called for the freeing of slaves, the cancellation of debts, the giving of assistance to the poor. Today, new forms of slavery and more tragic forms of poverty afflict vast numbers of people, especially in the so-called Third World countries. This is a cry of suffering and despair which must be heard and responded to by all those walking the path of the Jubilee. How can we ask for the grace of the Jubilee if we are insensitive to the needs of the poor, if we do not work to ensure that all have what is necessary to lead a decent life?

May the millennium which is beginning be a time when, finally, the cry of countless men and women — our brothers and sisters who do not have even the minimum necessary to live — is heard and finds a benevolent response. It is my hope that Christians at every level will become promoters of practical initiatives to ensure an equitable distribution of resources and the promotion of the complete human development of every individual.

6. “I am with you always, to the close of the age.” These words of Jesus assure us that in proclaiming and living the Gospel of charity we are not alone. Once again, during this Lent of the year 2000, he invites us to return to the Father, who is waiting for us with open arms to transform us into living and effective signs of his merciful love.

To Mary, Mother of all who suffer and Mother of Divine Mercy, we entrust our intentions and our resolutions. May she be the bright star on our journey in the new millennium.

With these sentiments I invoke upon everyone the blessings of God, One and Triune, the beginning and the end of all things, to whom we raise “to the close of the age” the hymn of blessing and praise in Christ: “Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours, Almighty Father, for ever and ever. Amen.”

From Castel Gandolfo, 21 September 1999.

[Pope John Paul II, Message for Lent 2000]

The Gospel passage for this first Sunday of Lent (cf. Lk 4:1-13) recounts the experience of the temptation of Jesus in the desert. After fasting for 40 days, Jesus is tempted three times by the devil. First he invites Him to change stone into bread (v. 3); then, from above, he shows Him all the kingdoms of the world and the prospect of becoming a powerful and glorious messiah (vv. 5-6); lastly he takes Him to the pinnacle of the temple of Jerusalem and invites Him to throw himself down, so as to manifest His divine power in a spectacular way (vv. 9-11). The three temptations point to three paths that the world always offers, promising great success, three paths to mislead us: greed for possession — to have, have, have —, human vainglory and the exploitation of God. These are three paths that will lead us to ruin.

The first, the path of greed for possession. This is always the devil’s insidious logic He begins from the natural and legitimate need for nourishment, life, fulfilment, happiness, in order to encourage us to believe that all this is possible without God, or rather, even despite Him. But Jesus countervails, stating: “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone’’’ (v. 4). Recalling the long journey of the chosen people through the desert, Jesus affirms his desire to fully entrust himself to the providence of the Father, who always takes care of his children.

The second temptation: the path of human vainglory. The devil says: “If you, then, will worship me, it shall all be yours” (v. 7). One can lose all personal dignity if one allows oneself to be corrupted by the idols of money, success and power, in order to achieve one’s own self-affirmation. And one tastes the euphoria of a fleeting joy. And this also leads us to be ‘peacocks’, to vanity, but this vanishes. For this reason Jesus responds: “You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve” (v. 8).

And then the third temptation: exploiting God to one’s own advantage. In response to the devil — who, citing Scripture, invites Him to seek a conspicuous miracle from God — Jesus again opposes with the firm decision to remain humble, to remain confident before the Father: “It is said, ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God’” (v. 12). Thus, he rejects perhaps the most subtle temptation: that of wanting to ‘pull God to our side’, asking him for graces which in reality serve and will serve to satisfy our pride.

These are the paths that are set before us, with the illusion that in this way one can obtain success and happiness. But in reality, they are completely extraneous to God’s mode of action; rather, in fact they distance us from God, because they are the works of Satan. Jesus, personally facing these trials, overcomes temptation three times in order to fully adhere to the Father’s plan. And he reveals the remedies to us: interior life, faith in God, the certainty of his love — the certainty that God loves us, that he is Father, and with this certainty we will overcome every temptation.

But there is one thing to which I would like to draw your attention, something interesting. In responding to the tempter, Jesus does not enter a discussion, but responds to the three challenges with only the Word of God. This teaches us that one does not dialogue with the devil; one must not discuss, one only responds to him with the Word of God.

Therefore, let us benefit from Lent as a privileged time to purify ourselves, to feel God’s comforting presence in our life.

May the maternal intercession of the Virgin Mary, icon of faithfulness to God, sustain us in our journey, helping us to always reject evil and welcome good.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 10 March 2019]

The Conversion, forbidden things and the Doctor of opposites

(Lk 5:27-32)

At the time when Luke wrote his Gospel (immediately after the mid-80s), the community of pagans converted to Christ in Ephesus was pervaded by lively temptations and marked by defections.

In addition, a question arises in the internal church debate about the kind of admissible participation in the meetings, and the Breaking of Bread.

The evangelist narrates the episode of «Levi», avoiding simply calling him Matthew - almost as if to accentuate his Semitic and paradoxically cultic derivation.

Thus Lk wants to describe how Jesus himself had faced the same conflict: without any ritual or sacral attention, if not to man.

According to the Master, in the journey of Faith the relationship with the distant, different, and our very discomforts or hidden abysses, have something to tell us.

The Father is a friendly Presence. His life-saving initiative is for everyone, even for those who don't know how to do anything but look after their own gain.

This diminishes and overcomes the obsession with sin that religions considered an insurmountable barrier to communion with God - by marking life.

The Good News is that the Eucharist (v.29) is not a reward for merit (v.30).

Eating together was a precious sign of sharing, even on a religious level. At banquets, legalists avoided contact with sinful members of their own people.

Instead, all are called and each can be reborn, even surpassing the pure ones.

So putting yourself among sinners is not a defeat, but truth. And sin itself is no longer just a deviation to be corrected.

This is why the figure of the new Master touched the hearts of the people: he bore the sign of Grace; communion with the lost and guilty.

But with these gestures the Son seemed to put himself in God's place (v.30).

In fact, the Father catches us without fences, at the point where we are: He doesn’t pay attention to social condition and origin.

Among the disciples, it is likely that there were quite a few members of the Palestinian resistance [guerrillas fighting against the Roman occupiers].

On the other hand, here Jesus calls a collaborator of the Romans who let himself be guided by the advantage.

As if to say: the new community of children and brothers doesn’t cultivate privileges, separations, oppressions, hatreds.

The Master always stood above the political clashes, ideological distinctions and external disputes of time.

In his Church there is a strong sign of discontinuity.

He does not invite the best or the worst to follow, but opposites - even of our own personality. He wants to dispose us «to conversion» (v.32): to make us change our point of view, mentality, principles, way of being.

In this adventure we are not called to forms of dissociation: we start from ourselves.

Thus Jesus inaugurates a new kind of relationships, even within us. A New Covenant, of fruitful differences.

And the single Word «Follow Me [not others]» creates all (v.27).

Therefore, in this Lent we can put the idea of ​​“belonging” in brackets; to rely on God alone, break down barriers, and celebrate.

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

[Saturday after the Ashes, March 8, 2025]

But can he participate in the rite?

(Lk 5:27-32)

"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 allowing us to glimpse its wonderful effects in his own existence".

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 30 August 2006].

At the time when Lk writes his Gospel (just after the mid-1980s) the community of pagan converts to Christ in Ephesus was pervaded by living temptations and marked by defections.

In addition, a question arose in the internal church debate about the kind of permissible participation in meetings, and the Breaking of Bread.

The evangelist recounts the episode of 'Levi', avoiding simply calling him Matthew - as if to accentuate his Semitic and paradoxically cultic derivation.

Thus Lk wants to describe how Jesus himself had faced the same conflict: without any ritual or sacral attention, if not 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.

The Father is a friendly Presence. His initiative of saved life is for all, even for those who can do no more than look after his records.

This diminishes and overcomes the obsession with sin that religions considered an insuperable barrier to communion with God - marking life.

The Glad Tidings of that pericope is that Communion is not gratification or recognition.

The Eucharist (v.29) is not a reward for merit (v.30), nor is it a discrimination in favour of sacred or adult marginalisation.

Eating together was a sign of valuable sharing, even on a religious level. Thus, at feasts the observant avoided contact with members deemed sinful.

Instead, everyone is called and everyone can be reborn, even surpassing the pure.

So to place oneself among sinners is not a defeat, but truth. And sin itself is no longer just a deviation to be corrected.

That is why the figure of the new Master touched people's hearts: he bore the sign of Grace; communion with the lost and guilty.

But with such gestures the Son seemed to put himself in God's place (v.30).

In short, the Father catches us without fences, where we are: he does not care about social status or origin.

Among the disciples it is likely that there were quite a few members of the Palestinian resistance, who opposed the Roman occupiers.

On the other hand, here Jesus calls a collaborator, and one who allowed himself to be led by advantage.

As if to say: the New Community of sons and brothers does not cultivate privileges, separation, oppression, hatred.

The Master always kept himself above the political shocks, ideological distinctions and corrupt disputes of his time.

In his Church there is a strong sign of discontinuity with religions: prohibition must be replaced by friendship.

The apostles themselves were not called to the same strict practice of segregation and division typical of ethno-purist beliefs, which prevailed around them [and was believed to reflect God's established order on earth].

Even today, the Lord does not invite the best or the worst to follow, but the opposites. A principle that also applies to the intimate life.

The recovery of opposing sides also of our personality, disposes us "to conversion" (v.32): not to rearrange the world of the Temple, but to make us change our point of view, mentality, principles, way of being.

It is not religious perfection that makes one love the exodus.

In short, 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 we arrive 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 notorious transgressors like the publican, seeing themselves in them.

And laying down the 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: Matathiah, underlining the same content and identical appeal to the assemblies of believers.

Matathiah 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 to 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 full communion with sinners, and for them to be treated as brothers - full members of the same Family of God - not for the sake of some feel-good platitude: it is an invitation to recognise oneself.

Not to submit ourselves to some humiliating paternalism, but because allowing ourselves to be transformed from poor or rich into lords is a resource.

"And Levi made a great banquet for him in his house; and there was a great crowd of publicans and others who were reclining [at table] with them" (Lk 5:29 Greek text).

"They were reclining": according to the manner of celebrating solemn banquets, by free men - now all free.

How marvellous, such a monstrance! A living Body of Christ that smells of concrete Union, conviviality of differences - not of artificial rejections, by transgression!

It is this all empathic and royal awareness that smoothes out and makes credible the content of the Announcement (v.31) - even though it shocks 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 various clubs [old-fashioned or glossy as they may be].

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 the opposite sides, 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 contrived norm (unfortunately, sometimes even unwise leadership) makes us 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.

Therefore, in this Lent we can put the taken-for-granted idea of purity, and memberships, in brackets.

All this in order to rely on God alone, to break down barriers, to put ourselves at the banquet of the marginalised (from the 'proper' order established on earth).

And to party.

The Master's Wisdom and the multifaceted art of Nature [just 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]