Today’s Gospel is composed of two very brief parables: that of the seed that sprouts and grows on its own, and that of the mustard seed (cf. Mk 4:26-34). Through these images taken from the rural world, Jesus presents the efficacy of the Word of God and the requirements of his Kingdom, showing the reasons for our hope and our commitment in history.

In the first parable, attention is placed on the fact that the seed scattered on the ground (v. 26) takes root and develops on its own, regardless of whether the farmer sleeps or keeps watch. He is confident in the inner power of the seed itself and in the fertility of the soil. In the language of the Gospel, the seed is the symbol of the Word of God, whose fruitfulness is recalled in this parable. As the humble seed grows in the earth, so too does the Word by the power of God work in the hearts of those who listen to it. God has entrusted his Word to our earth, that is to each one of us with our concrete humanity. We can be confident because the Word of God is a creative word, destined to become the “full grain in the ear” (v. 28). This Word, if accepted, certainly bears fruit, for God Himself makes it sprout and grow in ways that we cannot always verify or understand. (cf. v. 27). All this tells us that it is always God, it is always God who makes his Kingdom grow. That is why we fervently pray “thy Kingdom come”. It is He who makes it grow. Man is his humble collaborator, who contemplates and rejoices in divine creative action and waits patiently for its fruits.

The Word of God makes things grow, it gives life. And here, I would like to remind you once again, of the importance of having the Gospel, the Bible, close at hand. A small Gospel in your purse, in your pocket and to nourish yourselves every day with this living Word of God. Read a passage from the Gospel every day, a passage from the Bible. Please don’t ever forget this. Because this is the power that makes the life of the Kingdom of God sprout within us.

The second parable uses the image of the mustard seed. Despite being the smallest of all the seeds, it is full of life and grows until it becomes “the greatest of all shrubs” (Mk 4:32). And thus is the Kingdom of God: a humanly small and seemingly irrelevant reality. To become a part of it, one must be poor of heart; not trusting in their own abilities, but in the power of the love of God; not acting to be important in the eyes of the world, but precious in the eyes of God, who prefers the simple and the humble. When we live like this, the strength of Christ bursts through us and transforms what is small and modest into a reality that leavens the entire mass of the world and of history.

An important lesson comes to us from these two parables: God’s Kingdom requires our cooperation, but it is above all the initiative and gift of the Lord. Our weak effort, seemingly small before the complexity of the problems of the world, when integrated with God’s effort, fears no difficulty. The victory of the Lord is certain: his love will make every seed of goodness present on the ground sprout and grow. This opens us up to trust and hope, despite the tragedies, the injustices, the sufferings that we encounter. The seed of goodness and peace sprouts and develops, because the merciful love of God makes it ripen.

May the Holy Virgin, who like “fertile ground” received the seed of the divine Word, sustain us in this hope which never disappoints.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 14 June 2015]

(Mk 4: 21-25)

Mk's is a narrative and popular catechesis, which reflects the problems of a very primitive community of Faith - compared to those of the other Gospels.

His way of expressing is correlative to these unsophisticated origins.

At the time, still in Rome there was a strong debate within the churches on essential issues.

Some believers clung to the mummified mentality of the mighty Messiah, who should have descended like a bolt of lightning and remained to himself.

A glorious King, comparable to the emperor, who ensured victories for his own. Solving every problem in a disruptive and immediate way.

Those who read the Scriptures with such criteria - or even as a scarcely popular text (v.22), to be interpreted in small doses, mysterious, cerebral, moralistic;  typical - they made it difficult to internalize the meaning of the new Teaching. And to be well disposed in the real confrontation with the inevitable risks of the evangelical truth.

The Message of Christ, on the other hand, opens up to the uninterrupted apostolate; also troubled. And it must be proclaimed at the face of the world, otherwise the Spirit does not let loose within the disciple, nor does it work outside of him..

The Proclamation brings with it the awareness of having received much, and of having been introduced without conditions of perfection into the Secret of God;  therefore, with the desire that everyone be part of it.

In Mc the language of the parables and of the images that the Lord uses to make his teaching explicit convey the sense of a non-esoteric or difficult to decipher reading of the things of the Kingdom of God - always lead back into the normal elements of life.

By transmitting Christ also in the new way that the Magisterium [practical and broad] is teaching us, we open up the secrets of the Father (v.22) - no longer tied to glosses, nor bound by fashions and reworked opinions on customs, or pious advice.

Of course, those who update and remain attentive, push forward.

No one will be surprised that the tacticians, the unwilling, or the nostalgic who linger and remain entrenched in their positions [ancient or latest] end up extinguishing their impact and gradually disappearing from the scene (vv.24-25).

The «lamp» that Comes and 'orients in the darkness of the evening' is only the Word of God, which is not to be smothered with customs or à la page ideas.

In the dark it must always be on, that is, it cannot remain closed in a book (v.21).

It is a ‘lantern that lights up’ only when it is combined with life - and with a non-triumphalist reading key, nor with a fixed circuit (v.21).

If not, it remains ambivalent (vv. 23-24). We must pay close attention to the codes with which we interpret Scripture, and our own impulses or prejudices.

Often entrenched [or spineless] ideas deflect the understanding of the meaning of events, the emotions they arouse, and the very Person of the Son of God.

Hers is an ‘outSize Light’ - which break in with the inevitable risk of the evangelical fragrance.

«Measure» that has no “limit”. Disproportion own, of the Announcement.

[Thursday 3rd wk. in O.T.  January 30, 2025]

The Risk of Truth

(Mk 4:21-25)

That of Mk is a narrative and popular catechesis, reflecting the problems of a very primitive community of Faith - compared to those of the other Gospels.

Its manner of expression is correlative to such unsophisticated (only practical and ordinary) origins.

Identifying Lao Tse's thought, Master Ho-shang Kung confesses: 'Since I do not see the form and appearance of the Way, I do not know by what name it is fitting to call it' (commentary on the Tao Tê Ching xxv,7-8).

At the time, there was still a strong debate within the churches in Rome on essential issues: Who is God and how to honour Him? What is the right relationship with Tradition? And between doctrine and life? How to realise oneself and love?

To be free ... must one give up everything, or change one's mind? How to face persecution? Is there room for Dreams? Who guides us? What to do with spontaneous nature? How to deal with institutions and the distant? And so on.

Some of the faithful remained attached to the mummified mentality of the mighty Messiah, who was supposed to descend like lightning and stay to himself.

A glorious king, comparable to the emperor, who would ensure victories for his people. He solved every problem in a disruptive and immediate way.

Those who read the Scriptures with such a criterion - or even as a scarcely popular text (v.22), to be interpreted in small doses, mysterious, cerebral, moralistic; typical - had difficulty internalising the sense of the new Teaching. And to be well prepared for the real confrontation with the inevitable risks of the gospel truth.

The Message of Christ, on the other hand, opens one up to an uninterrupted apostolate; even a troubled one. And it must be proclaimed in the face of the world, otherwise the Spirit will not be unleashed within the disciple, nor will it work outside him.

The proclamation brings with it an awareness of having received much, and of having been introduced unconditionally into the Secret of God; hence, with the desire for all to share in it.

In Mk, the language of the parables and images that the Lord uses to make his teaching explicit convey the sense of an interpretation that is neither esoteric nor difficult to decipher of the things of the Kingdom of God - always placed within the normal elements of life.

By transmitting Christ (also in the new way that the Magisterium is teaching us, practical and broad) we open up the secrets of the Father (v.22) - no longer bound by chicanery, or reworked opinions on customs, or pious advice.

Certainly, those who keep up to date and remain attentive, advance. No one will be surprised that the unwilling or nostalgic who linger and remain entrenched in their positions end up extinguishing their influence and gradually disappearing from the scene (vv.24-25).

The "lamp" that comes and directs in the darkness of the evening is only the Word of God, which is not to be suffocated with custom.

In the darkness it must always be lit, that is, it cannot remain closed in a book (v.21).

It is a lamp that only illuminates when it is united with life - and with a key that is neither triumphalist nor fixed (v.21).

Otherwise, it remains ambivalent (vv.23-24). We must be very careful about the codes with which we interpret Scripture, and our own impulses or prejudices.

Ingrained ideas often deflect our understanding of the meaning of events, the emotions they arouse, and the very Person of the Son of God.

Even today, some willing readers of the Bible remain hampered by hasty and one-sided ways of understanding, or cerebral thoughts, cultivated within clubs of supposedly chosen ones called apart.

Sometimes we remain conditioned by grand narratives (all in all conformist); by roundabout, disembodied, more or less sought-after options - even ecclesial ones. Some in the form of dynastic privileges and banal fanaticism, which threaten life in Christ with serious errors.

The Mystery of the Kingdom is not a monopoly that some narrow and demarcated caste can afford to jealously guard.

It is, on the contrary, like a Light that transcends any chosen language, overcoming hierontocracies, circles and oligarchies that would claim to hijack it - and with it hold the living Jesus hostage as well.

"Man is the being-limit that has no limit" (Fratelli Tutti n.150). Our burning desire, the founding Eros that impassions our soul, cannot be normalised, subjected to clichés.

In the itinerancy of the homo viator, the Word-Logos and the Word-event of the divine already in us becomes Clarity, the horizon of Life. It comes to illustrate, support and motivate every personalistic anthropology of the threshold and the beyond.

In short, the Principle that breaks through and calls is like an impulse beyond measure.

"And he said to them: Be careful what you listen to. By the measure with which you measure it will be measured to you, and it will be added to you. For whoever has will be given to him, and whoever does not have even what he has will be taken away from him" (vv.24-25).Disproportionality proper to the Gospel:

The Gospel cannot lose its fragrance, because the Friend penetrates our condition of finitude to make himself a virtue of ever new search.

Motive and Engine of Growth - with the inevitable risk of truth, which has no limit.

To internalise and live the message:

What is your unconditioned but luminous and growing form of active dedication?

In all churches, in cathedrals and religious houses, wherever the faithful gather to celebrate the Easter Vigil, that holiest of all nights begins with the lighting of the Paschal candle, whose light is then passed on to all who are present. One tiny flame spreads out to become many lights and fills the darkness of God’s house with its brightness. This wonderful liturgical rite, which we have imitated in our prayer vigil tonight, reveals to us in signs more eloquent than words the mystery of our Christian faith. He, Christ, who says of himself: “I am the light of the world” (Jn 8:12), causes our lives to shine brightly, so that what we have just heard in the Gospel comes true: “You are the light of the world” (Mt 5:14). It is not our human efforts or the technical progress of our era that brings light into this world. Again and again we experience how our striving to bring about a better and more just world hits against its limits. Innocent suffering and the ultimate fact of death awaiting every single person are an impenetrable darkness which may perhaps, through fresh experiences, be lit up for a moment, as if through a flash of lightning at night. In the end, though, a frightening darkness remains.

While all around us there may be darkness and gloom, yet we see a light: a small, tiny flame that is stronger than the seemingly powerful and invincible darkness. Christ, risen from the dead, shines in this world and he does so most brightly in those places where, in human terms, everything is sombre and hopeless. He has conquered death – he is alive – and faith in him, like a small light, cuts through all that is dark and threatening. To be sure, those who believe in Jesus do not lead lives of perpetual sunshine, as though they could be spared suffering and hardship, but there is always a bright glimmer there, lighting up the path that leads to fullness of life (cf. Jn 10:10). The eyes of those who believe in Christ see light even amid the darkest night and they already see the dawning of a new day.

Light does not remain alone. All around, other lights are flaring up. In their gleam, space acquires contours, so that we can find our bearings. We do not live alone in this world. And it is for the important things of life that we have to rely on other people. Particularly in our faith, then, we do not stand alone, we are links in the great chain of believers. Nobody can believe unless he is supported by the faith of others, and conversely, through my faith, I help to strengthen others in their faith. We help one another to set an example, we give others a share in what is ours: our thoughts, our deeds, our affections. And we help one another to find our bearings, to work out where we stand in society.

Dear friends, the Lord says: “I am the light of the world – you are the light of the world.” It is mysterious and wonderful that Jesus applies the same predicate to himself and to all of us together, namely “light”. If we believe that he is the Son of God, who healed the sick and raised the dead, who rose from the grave himself and is truly alive, then we can understand that he is the light, the source of all the lights of this world. On the other hand, we experience more and more the failure of our efforts and our personal shortcomings, despite our good intentions. In the final analysis, the world in which we live, in spite of its technical progress, does not seem to be getting any better. There is still war and terror, hunger and disease, bitter poverty and merciless oppression. And even those figures in our history who saw themselves as “bringers of light”, but without being fired by Christ, the one true light, did not manage to create an earthly paradise, but set up dictatorships and totalitarian systems, in which even the smallest spark of true humanity is choked.

At this point we cannot remain silent about the existence of evil. We see it in so many places in this world; but we also see it – and this scares us – in our own lives. Truly, within our hearts there is a tendency towards evil, there is selfishness, envy, aggression. Perhaps with a certain self-discipline all this can to some degree be controlled. But it becomes more difficult with faults that are somewhat hidden, that can engulf us like a thick fog, such as sloth, or laziness in willing and doing good. Again and again in history, keen observers have pointed out that damage to the Church comes not from her opponents, but from uncommitted Christians. “You are the light of the world”: only Christ can say: “I am the light of the world.”  All of us can be light only if we stand within the “you” that, through the Lord, is forever becoming light.  And just as the Lord warns us that salt can become tasteless, so too he weaves a gentle warning into his saying about light.  Instead of placing the light on a lampstand, one can hide it under a bushel.  Let us ask ourselves: how often do we hide God’s light through our sloth, through our stubbornness, so that it cannot shine out through us into the world?

Dear friends, Saint Paul in many of his letters does not shrink from calling his contemporaries, members of the local communities, “saints”. Here it becomes clear that every baptized person – even before he or she can accomplish good works – is sanctified by God. In baptism the Lord, as it were, sets our life alight with what the Catechism calls sanctifying grace. Those who watch over this light, who live by grace, are holy.

Dear friends, again and again the very notion of saints has been caricatured and distorted, as if to be holy meant to be remote from the world, naive and joyless. Often it is thought that a saint has to be someone with great ascetic and moral achievements, who might well be revered, but could never be imitated in our own lives. How false and discouraging this opinion is! There is no saint, apart from the Blessed Virgin Mary, who has not also known sin, who has never fallen. Dear friends, Christ is not so much interested in how often in our lives we stumble and fall, as in how often with his help we pick ourselves up again. He does not demand glittering achievements, but he wants his light to shine in you. He does not call you because you are good and perfect, but because he is good and he wants to make you his friends. Yes, you are the light of the world because Jesus is your light. You are Christians – not because you do special and extraordinary things, but because he, Christ, is your life, our life. You are holy, we are holy, if we allow his grace to work in us.

Dear friends, this evening as we gather in prayer around the one Lord, we sense the truth of Christ’s saying that the city built on a hilltop cannot remain hidden. This gathering shines in more ways than one – in the glow of innumerable lights, in the radiance of so many young people who believe in Christ. A candle can only give light if it lets itself be consumed by the flame. It would remain useless if its wax failed to nourish the fire. Allow Christ to burn in you, even at the cost of sacrifice and renunciation. Do not be afraid that you might lose something and, so to speak, emerge empty-handed at the end. Have the courage to apply your talents and gifts for God’s kingdom and to give yourselves – like candlewax – so that the Lord can light up the darkness through you. Dare to be glowing saints, in whose eyes and hearts the love of Christ beams and who thus bring light to the world. I am confident that you and many other young people here in Germany are lamps of hope that do not remain hidden. “You are the light of the world”. Where God is, there is a future! Amen.

[Pope Benedict, Vigil in Freiburg 24 September 2011]

3. "You are the light of the world...". For those who first heard Jesus, as for us, the symbol of light evokes the desire for truth and the thirst for the fullness of knowledge which are imprinted deep within every human being. 

When the light fades or vanishes altogether, we no longer see things as they really are. In the heart of the night we can feel frightened and insecure, and we impatiently await the coming of the light of dawn. Dear young people, it is up to you to be the watchmen of the morning (cf. Is 21:11-12) who announce the coming of the sun who is the Risen Christ! 

The light which Jesus speaks of in the Gospel is the light of faith, God’s free gift, which enlightens the heart and clarifies the mind. "It is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God on the face of Christ" (2 Cor 4:6). That is why the words of Jesus explaining his identity and his mission are so important: "I am the light of the world; whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (Jn 8:12). 

Our personal encounter with Christ bathes life in new light, sets us on the right path, and sends us out to be his witnesses. This new way of looking at the world and at people, which comes to us from him, leads us more deeply into the mystery of faith, which is not just a collection of theoretical assertions to be accepted and approved by the mind, but an experience to be had, a truth to be lived, the salt and light of all reality (cf. Veritatis Splendor, 88). 

In this secularized age, when many of our contemporaries think and act as if God did not exist or are attracted to irrational forms of religion, it is you, dear young people, who must show that faith is a personal decision which involves your whole life. Let the Gospel be the measure and guide of life’s decisions and plans! Then you will be missionaries in all that you do and say, and wherever you work and live you will be signs of God’s love, credible witnesses to the loving presence of Jesus Christ. Never forget: "No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a bushel" (Mt 5:15)! 

Just as salt gives flavour to food and light illumines the darkness, so too holiness gives full meaning to life and makes it reflect God’s glory. How many saints, especially young saints, can we count in the Church’s history! In their love for God their heroic virtues shone before the world, and so they became models of life which the Church has held up for imitation by all. Let us remember only a few of them: Agnes of Rome, Andrew of Phú Yên, Pedro Calungsod, Josephine Bakhita, Thérèse of Lisieux, Pier Giorgio Frassati, Marcel Callo, Francisco Castelló Aleu or again Kateri Tekakwitha, the young Iroquois called "the Lily of the Mohawks". Through the intercession of this great host of witnesses, may God make you too, dear young people, the saints of the third millennium!

[Pope John Paul II, Message for the 17th World Youth Day]

The theme of witness, understood as the founding element of the Christian's life, was at the centre of Pope Francis' reflection during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on the morning of Thursday 28 January. But what should characterise this testimony? The Pontiff took the answer directly from the Gospel of the day, quoting the passage from Mark (4:21-25) immediately following the "parable of the seed". After speaking of "the seed that succeeds in bearing fruit" and the one that, instead, falling "into bad soil cannot bear fruit", Jesus "speaks to us of the lamp" that is not placed under the bushel but above the candlestick. It - he explained - "is light and the Gospel of John tells us that the mystery of God is light and that the light came into the world and the darkness did not welcome it". A light, he added, that cannot be hidden, but serves 'to illuminate'.

Here, then, is "one of the traits of the Christian, who has received light in baptism and must give it". The Christian, said the Pope, "is a witness". And precisely the word 'witness' encapsulates 'one of the peculiarities of Christian attitudes'. Indeed: 'a Christian who bears this light, must make it seen because he is a witness'. And if a Christian "prefers not to let God's light be seen and prefers his own darkness", then "he lacks something and is not a complete Christian". A part of him is occupied, darkness 'enters his heart, because he is afraid of the light' and he prefers 'idols'. But the Christian 'is a witness', a witness 'of Jesus Christ, the light of God. And he must put that light on the candelabrum of his life".

The Gospel passage proposed by the liturgy also speaks of "the measure" and reads: "With the measure with which you measure will be measured to you; indeed, more will be given to you". This, Francis said, is "the other peculiarity, the other attitude" typical of the Christian. He referred, in fact, to magnanimity: 'another trait of the Christian is magnanimity, because he is the son of a magnanimous father, with a great soul.

Even when he says: 'Give and it will be given to you', the measure of which Jesus speaks, the Pope explained, is 'full, good, overflowing'. In the same way, 'the Christian heart is magnanimous. It is open, always'. It is not, therefore, 'a heart that closes in its own selfishness'. It is not a heart that sets limits on itself, that 'counts: up to here, up to here'. He continued: 'When you enter into this light of Jesus, when you enter into the friendship of Jesus, when you allow yourself to be guided by the Holy Spirit, the heart becomes open, magnanimous'. A particular dynamic is triggered at that point: the Christian 'does not gain: he loses'. But, in reality, the Pontiff concluded, "he loses in order to gain something else, and with this 'defeat' of interests, he gains Jesus, he gains by becoming a witness to Jesus".

To put his reflection in concrete terms, Francis turned at this point to a group of priests who were celebrating the golden jubilee of their ordination: "fifty years on the road of light and witness" and "trying to be better, trying to bring light to the candelabra"; a light that, it is the experience of all, sometimes "falls", but that it is always good to try to bring back "generously, that is, with a magnanimous heart". And in thanking the priests for all they have done "in the Church, for the Church and for Jesus", and wishing them the "great joy of having sown well, of having enlightened well and of having opened their arms to receive everyone with magnanimity", the Pope also told them: "Only God and your memory know how many people you have received with magnanimity, with the goodness of fathers, of brothers" and "to how many people whose hearts were a little dark, you have given light, the light of Jesus". Because, he concluded, pulling the strings of the argument, "in the memory of a people" remain "the seed, the light of witness, and the magnanimity of love that welcomes".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 29/01/2016]

3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C) [26 January 2025]

God bless us and may the Virgin protect us! This Sunday, 26 January 2025, marks the 6th Sunday of the Word of God. In St. Peter's Basilica, Pope Francis will preside over it in the context of the Jubilee Year. The chosen motto is taken from the Book of Psalms: "I hope in your Word" (Ps 119:74).

III Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)

*First Reading from the Book of Nehemiah (8: 2-4a. 5-6. 8-10)

For those of us who begin to complain when liturgies last longer than an hour, we would surely be well served by all standing together from dawn until noon, as one man: men, women and children. And during such a long time to listen to readings in Hebrew, a language that was no longer understood, although the scribe, the reader, would interrupt from time to time to make way for the translator, who would translate the text into Aramaic, a language commonly used in Jerusalem. Those taking part did not seem tired, nor did they find the time too long: on the contrary, they all wept with emotion, sang and continually cheered together with their hands raised: Amen! Ezra, the priest, and Nehemiah, the governor, can be satisfied because they have succeeded in restoring confidence to the people who, after the Babylonian exile, continue to go through a complicated and difficult period. 

We have here a beautiful testimony of the reconstruction of Israel's 'national home' after the Babylonian deportation.  We are in Jerusalem around 450 B.C.: the exile in Babylon was over and after much controversy, the Temple in Jerusalem was finally rebuilt, even if it was not quite like Solomon's, and community life was also resumed. We could say that everything was going well, but it was not, and morale was low because the people seemed to have lost hope, which they had always retained even in the most painful parts of their existence. The truth is that the scars of the previous century's dramas remained because it was not easy to resume life after the invasion and looting of the city. Indeed, the scars remained for generations: scars of the exile itself, but also those of the return to the homeland since everything had been lost with the deportation to Babylon. The long-awaited return was not a triumph, but an occasion for confrontation between those who had remained in Jerusalem and by now had begun a life of their own, even introducing pagan rites, and the 'community of the return' who, after more than fifty years, thought they would find what their ancestors had left behind, something that was impossible and created serious clashes between them.  The miracle is that that period, although terrible, was very fruitful because the faith of Israel survived the test. Not only did this people keep their faith intact during the exile, amidst all the dangers of idolatry, but they remained united and even grew in fervour. This was all thanks to the priests and prophets, who did tireless pastoral work. It was, for example, a period of intense re-reading and meditation of the Scriptures, since one of the main purposes during the fifty years of exile was to direct all hopes towards the return to the promised land. However, the much hoped-for return turned out to be a cold shower because, as experience teaches us, there is almost always a gulf between dream and reality. On closer inspection, the great problem of the return, as we have seen in Isaiah's texts for the Epiphany and the second Sunday of Ordinary Time (last Sunday), was the difficulty of living together between those who had returned from Babylon full of ideals and plans, the so-called "community of return", and those who had meanwhile settled in Jerusalem. Between them there was not a ditch, but a real chasm: some were pagans who had occupied the land and brought idol worship with them, and their concerns were light years removed from the manifold demands of Jewish law. Their priorities were incompatible with the demands of the Torah. The rebuilding of the Temple met with their hostility, and the less fervent members of the Jewish community were often tempted by the prevailing laxity. The authorities were particularly concerned about this religious laxity, which continued to worsen due to the numerous marriages between Jews and pagans, and it became virtually impossible to preserve the purity and demands of the faith under such conditions. It was at this point that Ezra, the priest, and Nehemiah, the secular governor, joined forces and succeeded in obtaining together from the king of Persia, Artaxerxes, a mission to rebuild the city walls and full powers to reorganise these people. It must be remembered that they were still under Persian rule. Ezra and Nehemiah did their utmost to raise the situation and to restore strength and awaken the morale of the people. The Jewish community was all the more in need of cohesion as it was now living in daily contact with paganism and religious indifference. In the history of Israel, the unity of the people has always been built in the name of the Covenant with God, and the pillars of the Covenant remain the same: they are the Land, the Holy City, the Temple and the Word of God. Since they had returned home, the Land was there; Nehemiah, the governor devoted himself to reorganising the Holy City, Jerusalem, and the Temple was rebuilt. That left the Word, which was proclaimed during a gigantic open-air celebration.

It was important to take care of every detail for the staging of the celebration mentioned here: even the date was carefully chosen and an ancient tradition was revived, a great feast on what was then the date of the New Year: 'the first day of the seventh month'. For the occasion, a wooden platform was built overlooking the people and from that high platform the priest and translators proclaimed the Word. The homily then was an invitation to feast: eat, drink, for it is a day of joy, a day of your gathering around the Word of God. It is no longer a time for tears, nor for sadness and emotion. There is a lesson here that may be useful: to strengthen the community, Ezra and Nehemiah do not lecture the people, but propose a feast around the Word of God. To revive the sense of family, there is no better way than to organise and share moments of joyful celebration on a regular basis.

*Responsorial Psalm (18 (19), 8. 9. 10. 15)

We encounter this psalm several times, and we have therefore already had the opportunity to emphasise the importance for Israel of the Law, which is an extremely positive value, just as important is the fear of God, an attitude that is also profoundly positive and filial. There are several passages in the Old Testament in which the Law is presented as a path: if a son of Israel wants to be happy, he must be careful not to deviate either to the right or to the left. Today, to better understand this psalm, I propose to reread the book of Deuteronomy. The book of Deuteronomy is relatively late, written at a time when the southern kingdom of Judah was drifting dangerously away from the practice of the Law. This book therefore resounded as a cry of alarm: If you do not want the same catastrophe to happen to you that has befallen the northern kingdom, you would do well to change your ways. It is thus a reference to all the commandments of Moses and his warnings. Deuteronomy also contains a meditation on the role of the Law whose sole purpose is to educate the people and keep them on the right path. If God cares so much that his people remain on the right path, it is because this is the only way they can live happily and fulfil their calling to be a chosen people among the nations. The king of Jerusalem, Josiah, undertook a profound religious reform around 620 B.C., relying precisely on the book of Deuteronomy. While we would be inclined to see the law as a burden, it is clear in the Bible that it is an instrument of freedom. To help understand this, the image of the eagle teaching its young to fly is interesting in the biblical tradition. Ornithologists who have observed eagles in the Sinai desert tell us that when the young eagles soar, their parents stay nearby and glide above them, tracing wide circles; when the young are tired, they can at any time rest (in the double sense of catching their breath and resting on their parents' wings) and then soar once they have regained their strength. The ultimate goal, of course, is that the little ones soon become capable of fending for themselves. The biblical author took this image to explain that God gives his Law to men to teach them to fly with their own wings. There is no shadow of domination in this, far from it; by freeing his people from slavery in Egypt, the Lord has demonstrated once and for all that his only goal is to free his people. Here is what the book of Deuteronomy says: "The Lord found his people in a desert land, in a heath of lonely howls. He surrounded him, raised him up, guarded him as over the pupil of his eye. Like an eagle that watches over his brood, that flies above his born, he spread his wings" (Deut 32:9-11). A God who wants man to be free! This is the message that is faithfully transmitted from generation to generation: "Tomorrow, when your son asks you: why these prescriptions, these laws and customs that the Lord our God has commanded you?" then you will answer your son: "We were slaves of Pharaoh in Egypt, but with a mighty hand the Lord brought us out of Egypt... The Lord commanded us to practice all these laws and to fear the Lord our God, that we might always be happy and that he might keep us alive as we are today" (Deut 6:20-24). When King Josiah tried to get his people back on the right path, he realised how important it was for him to make known this book, which repeats this message in every way: the shortest way to be a free and happy people is to live according to the commands of the God of Israel. Understand, if your brothers in the north ended up so badly, it is because they forgot this elementary truth (always keep in mind the division between the southern kingdom, the kingdom of Judah, and the northern kingdom, the kingdom of Israel, and how the northern kingdom due to alliances with foreign peoples ended up being occupied and practically destroyed). And now, Josiah reminds us, it is not only the salvation of the southern kingdom that is at stake - which of course was his first concern - but the salvation of all mankind. And how will the chosen people be able to be witnesses of the liberating God before all nations if they do not themselves behave as a free people and instead fall into the constant temptations of humanity: idolatry, social injustice, power struggles?

Throughout history, the biblical authors have gradually become aware of this responsibility that God entrusted to his people by offering them his Covenant: "To the Lord our God belong the hidden things, while those things that are revealed are for us and for our children for ever, that all the words of this Law may be put into practice" (Deut 29:28). This inspires in Israel a great pride that never becomes presumption; if necessary, Deuteronomy calls the people back to humility: "If the Lord has taken a liking to you and chosen you, it is not because you are more numerous than all the other peoples, for you are the least of all" (Deut 7:7); and again: "Recognise that it is not because you are righteous that the Lord your God gives you possession of this good land, for you are a hard-necked people" (Deut 9:6).

Our psalm today takes up this lesson of humility: "The precepts of the Lord are upright, they make the heart rejoice; the commandment of the Lord is clear, it enlightens the eyes" (v.9). "The precepts of the Lord are upright": here is a nice way of saying that only God is wise. There is no need, then, to think oneself wise, but rather to let oneself be guided by him with simplicity. King Josiah would gladly have repeated this admonition to encourage his subjects: 'Yea, this commandment which I command thee today is not too hard for thee, nor beyond thy reach. It is not in heaven, for you to say: Who shall ascend for us into heaven to take it for us, that we may hear it and be able to put it into practice? Nor is it beyond the sea, for you to say: Who will cross the sea for us to take it, that he may make us hear it and we may put it into practice? Yes, the word is very near you: it is in your mouth and in your heart, that you may put it into practice'. The humble, daily practice of the Law can gradually transform an entire people; as the psalm goes on to say: "The command of the Lord is clear, it enlightens the eyes" Deut 30:11).

One last remark: The book of Deuteronomy, which we know today, is later than Josiah; however, the foundations were already well laid in a manuscript found by Josiah's workers during the restoration of the temple in Jerusalem (cf. Second Book of Kings 22:8-13 and Second Book of Chronicles 34:14-19). It is an interesting manuscript probably brought by refugees from the northern kingdom after the fall of Samaria in 721 and was a solid exhortation for true conversion and an invitation to return to the practice of the commandments. Scholars believe it to be part of chapters 12-26 of the book of Deuteronomy.

* Second Reading from the First Epistle of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Corinthians (12:12-30)

St Paul simply and directly states that everyone in the Christian and civil community has a task to perform and a place to occupy while being attentive to one another: we should not despise one another, and indeed we should remember that everyone needs everyone. Paul's lengthy reasoning is evidence of a concrete situation: the community in Corinth faced exactly the same problems as we do today.

To teach his believers a lesson, Paul resorts to a method that works better than any discourse: he gives them an example with a parable that he did not actually invent at all because he uses a fable that everyone knew and adapts it to his objective. This is an allegorical narrative better known as the apologue "the belly and the limbs" by Menenius Agrippa, a Roman consul and diplomat of the 5th century BC. In truth, this narration is already present in Aesop, a storyteller and fable teller of ancient Greece (6th century B.C.) as well as in Phaedrus (a contemporary of Jesus 20 B.C. - 50 A.D.) both of whom were well known at the time of St Paul. This parable is found in the Roman History of Titus Livius and Jean Fontaine (1621-1695) took it up and transformed it into verse in the 9th book of his fables. Like all fables, it begins with: Once upon a time there was a man like all the others... except that, in him, all the limbs talked and argued with each other, but not all of them showed a good character, apparently, probably because some had the impression that they were less considered or somewhat exploited. One day, during a discussion, his feet and hands rebelled against his stomach: why did his stomach, he, only eat and drink what the other limbs gave him and all the pleasure was for him?  It was certainly not the stomach that got tired working, tilling the vineyard, shopping, cutting meat, chewing, and so on. Then they decided all the limbs would simply go on strike and from that moment on, no one would move: the stomach would see what would happen to it. That way, if the stomach died, the satisfaction would belong to those who had stopped working. However, they had forgotten one very simple thing: if the stomach dies of hunger, it will not be the only one to suffer. That body, like all others, was one, and everyone needed everyone!

St Paul thus took from the cultural heritage of his time a parable that was very easy to understand. And, if anyone had not understood it, he took the trouble to explain the meaning of the parable of the body and members himself by illustrating its teaching. For Paul, the moral is clear: our differences are an asset, provided we use them as instruments for unity. One of the salient points of Paul's discourse is that, not for a moment, he speaks in terms of hierarchy or superiority: Jews or Gentiles, slaves or free men since all our human distinctions no longer count. Only one thing matters now: our baptism into the same Spirit, our participation in one body, the body of Christ.

God's perspectives are completely different as Jesus clearly taught his apostles: "Among you it will not be so" (Matthew 20: 25-28).  However, Paul knows that this way of seeing things, of no longer thinking in terms of superiority, hierarchy, advancement or honours, is very difficult and so he insists on the respect that must be given to all: simply because the highest dignity, the only one that counts, is to be all members of the one body of Christ.

Respect, in the etymological sense of the term, is a question of gaze: sometimes, people who seem or seem unimportant to us we do not even see, our gaze does not linger on them. It can happen to all of us to feel ignored in the eyes of someone: their gaze slides over us as if we did not exist. Is that not so? 

In short, Paul offers us a great lesson in respect: respect for diversity, on the one hand, and respect for the dignity of each person, whatever their function or social role. I know it is not easy, but it is necessary to have a less selfish outlook to discover what each of us can bring to the life of our families, our communities and society. There are those who have a thinking mind, those who are researchers, inventors, organisers... There are those who have flair, those who can be patient, those who are clairvoyant, those who have the gift of speech and those who are better at writing, and there are those who suffer from illness or are very poor materially and spiritually, but all can offer something to others. One could go on enumerating the many charisms to be discovered and enhanced: one only needs to direct one's gaze well. If last Sunday, the second Sunday of Ordinary Time, reading the beginning of chapter 12 of the first letter to the Corinthians, seemed to be a hymn to diversity, today's development is a call to unity through respect for differences.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (1:1-4;4:14-21)

In the Sundays of ordinary time of liturgical year C, the evangelist Luke accompanies us, and we have already been able to meditate on his account of the birth and childhood of Jesus at Christmas time. We know very little about how the gospels were written and, in particular, about their dates of composition. However, from today's gospels we can deduce a few things. There was certainly oral preaching before the gospels were put into writing, for Luke tells Theophilus that he wanted to allow him to verify 'the soundness of the teachings he had received'. Luke also acknowledges that he was not an eyewitness to the events; he could only inform himself through eyewitnesses, which implies that they were still alive when he wrote. We can therefore assume that preaching about Christ's resurrection began already from Pentecost and that Luke's gospel was written later, but before the death of the last eyewitnesses, thus setting a cut-off date around 80-90 AD.

What we read today is placed after the baptism of Jesus and the account of his temptations in the desert. Apparently, everything seemed to be going well for Jesus who began his mission publicly after the death of John the Baptist. The evangelist writes: "Jesus returned to Galilee with the power of the Spirit and his fame spread throughout the region. He taught in the synagogues of the Jews, and they gave him praise". That Saturday morning Jesus, as a good Jew returning from a journey, went to worship in the synagogue. It is not surprising that he was given a reading, since every believer had the right to read the Scriptures. The celebration in the synagogue proceeded normally, until Jesus read the text of the day, which was a famous passage from the prophet Isaiah. In the great silence that followed the reading, Jesus quietly affirmed something extraordinary: "Today this Scripture that you have heard has been fulfilled". A few minutes of awkward silence followed, the time needed to interpret the meaning of his words. Indeed, those present expected Jesus to make a comment, as was customary, but not one that would surprise everyone. It is difficult for us today to imagine the audacity of that calm statement by Jesus, but for his contemporaries, that venerable text from the prophet Isaiah referred to the Messiah. Only the Messiah-King, when he would come, could have afforded to affirm: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; therefore he has anointed me..." From the beginning of the monarchy, in fact, the rite of consecration of kings included an anointing with oil. This gesture was a sign that God himself was permanently inspiring the king to enable him to fulfil his mission of saving the people. It was then said that the king was 'mashiach', which in Hebrew simply means 'anointed' and which in Italian is translated as Messiah while in Greek as Christos and in Latin as Christus.

At the time of Jesus, there were no more kings on the throne of Jerusalem, but it was expected that God would finally send the ideal king, who would bring freedom, justice and peace to his people. In particular, in Roman-occupied Palestine, the one who would deliver the people from Roman occupation was awaited. Clearly, Jesus of Nazareth, the carpenter's son, could not claim to be that expected Messiah-King. How could they recognise the Messiah they were waiting for in Jesus the humble carpenter in the land of Galilee? Yet he was indeed the Messiah. It must be acknowledged that Jesus did not cease to surprise his contemporaries.  St Luke emphasises, introducing this passage, that Jesus was accompanied by the power of the Spirit, an essential characteristic of the Messiah. But this is Luke's affirmation, the Christian; the people of Nazareth, on the other hand, did not know that, really, the Spirit of the Lord rested on Jesus. There is also this observation about the Gospel passage we have just heard. Jesus quotes the prophet Isaiah and attributes the quotation to himself, he makes it his own as a true programmatic discourse: 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me... He has sent me to bring glad tidings to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim a year of favour from the Lord. Of Isaiah's prophecy (61:1-2) he does not read and indeed skips the last part of verse 2 altogether, which says: "...and a day of vengeance for our God." This is a significant omission because he focuses on the proclamation of grace and deliverance, leaving aside the idea of vengeance, and his entire ministry is centred on mercy, salvation and God's love, rather than immediate judgement or punishment. This omission of Isaiah's last sentence and the application of the passage to himself upset his listeners for several reasons. First, the people of Nazareth expected a Messiah who would deliver Israel from its oppressors, especially the Romans, and bring justice and vengeance against the enemies of the Jewish people. The omission of the 'day of vengeance of our God' seemed to dismiss the idea of a political and executioner Messiah. By proclaiming a message of universal grace and salvation, Jesus was challenging their nationalistic expectations. Regarding his declaration that Isaiah's prophecy is fulfilled in him, many of those present considered it scandalous and presumptuous because they knew him as the "carpenter's son" (Luke 4:22) who lived among them, and could not reconcile his humble origin with the idea of an envoy of God. Moreover, Jesus, when later mentioning the episodes of Elijah and Elisha (Luke 4:25-27), went on to emphasise the fact that God often intervened for the good of pagans such as the widow of Sarepta in Sidon or Naaman the Syrian, and this showed that God's salvation and grace were not exclusively for Israel, but also for pagans. Proclaiming this universalism, however, offended the national and religious pride of its listeners. Finally, many Jews of the time hoped for immediate judgement against Israel's enemies. The fact that Jesus only emphasised the time of grace without mentioning vengeance could be perceived as a denial of divine justice against the wicked, and this offended those who desired a swift and final deliverance. The combination of so many elements gives insight into the violent reaction of his fellow citizens who attempted to drive him out of the synagogue and even to kill him by throwing him off a cliff (Luke 4:28-30). Finally, the rejection of Jesus by his countrymen becomes a symbol of the wider rejection that he will encounter in his ministry.

An informative note. During the first Sundays of Ordinary Time in the liturgical cycles A, B, C, the liturgy makes us reread the First Letter of St Paul to the Corinthians. It is a semi-continuous reading, beginning on the first Sunday of Ordinary Time and ending on the Sunday before Ash Wednesday.

Year A. The readings focus mainly on the first four chapters of the letter.

Main theme: the unity of the Church and the centrality of Christ.

*Sunday I: 1Cor 1:1-3 - Initial greeting and call to holiness.

*Sunday II: 1Cor 1:10-13.17 - Exhortation to unity in the Christian community.

*Sunday III: 1Cor 1:26-31 - The wisdom of God versus human wisdom.

*Sunday IV: 1Cor 2,1-5 - Preaching based on the power of the Spirit.

Year B. The readings continue in chapters 6-9 of the letter. Main theme: moral life and personal and community responsibilities.

*Sunday II: 1Cor 6:13c-15a.17-20 - The body as temple of the Holy Spirit.

*Sunday III: 1Cor 7,29-31 - The urgency of living for the Kingdom of God.

*Sunday IV: 1Cor 8,1b-7.10-13 - The responsibility towards weaker brothers and sisters in faith.

*Sunday V: 1Cor 9,16-19.22-23 - St Paul as an apostle who does everything for everyone.

Year C The readings focus on chapters 12-15 of the letter. Main theme: charisms, Christian love and the resurrection.

*Sunday II: 1Cor 12:4-11 - Diversity of charisms, one Spirit.

*Sunday III: 1Cor 12:12-30 - The Church as the body of Christ.

*Sunday IV: 1Cor 13:4-13 - The hymn to charity.

*Sunday V: 1Cor 15,12. 16- 20 - The resurrection of the dead as the foundation of faith.

Each liturgical year uses a different section of the letter to reflect on the different needs and themes of the Christian life. Key themes such as unity, charity, moral life and hope in the resurrection are highlighted. This semi-continuous scheme allows the faithful to progressively deepen their understanding of the Apostle Paul's teaching.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

In the difference between common religiosity and Faith

(Mt 13:1-23)

The parables compare the lived reality and the world of the Spirit:

«And other [seeds] fell on the earth that beautiful one and bore fruit rising and growing and they bore one thirty and one sixty and one hundred» (v.8).

Palestine’ stony terrain and scorching climate did not make it easy for the workers who lived on agriculture.

The lack of rain and the intrusion into the fields of those who wanted to shorten the path, destroyed the plants.

Tiring action and few tangible results.

Despite the enormous difficulties, every year the peasant threw grains with a wide hand, generously - and ploughed, animated by confidence in the inner life force of the seed and in the bounty of nature.

Ploughing was after sowing, to avoid that the soils turned over dried immediately under the powerful heat, and did not allow the grains to take root thanks to a minimum of moisture.

So the sower didn’t select the different types of ground prematurely.

The Seed already works: the new ‘Kingdom that Comes’ is not glorious, but here and there it takes root and produces - even where you do not expect.

According to the ancient religious mentality it seems a madness, but the divine Farmer does not choose the type of "land", nor discriminates on the basis of the percentage of production - although it would seem easy to predict.

The Sower even accepts that his ‘grain’ fallen on the «beautiful» [v.8 Greek text] ground, fruits differently: one hundred, sixty, thirty for one.

The term «beautiful» (in the Eastern sense) means the full and fruitful land [the soul and work of the most intimate, even anonymous ones].

The Lord means that a wise commitment to evangelization cannot be measured with fussiness.

His Word remains as a Beginning thrown into the human heart by the One who is neither stingy nor exclusive - but magnanimous.

In this way, the Church, his new People, is a small alternative world to both the Empire and selective religions.

The new Rabbi did not intend to carve out better disciples than others - isolated from the reality of the human family.

He was proposing a new lifestyle, cohabiting.

In short, God doesn’t force the growth of the ‘seed’ in each of us, in an abstract way; He waits patiently.

Even accepts that it is born badly or that it does not arise at all. He knows where to go.

Since overflowingly spreads on all kinds of hearts (even on asphalt), He foresees already that will be accused of being unwise.

But He doesn’t worry about the quantity, nor about the immediate outward fruits of His ‘grain’.

He doesn’t care that the work is "effective in departure"!

Such is the amiable, humanizing and divine (parental) Tolerance that saves. Loveableness that does not kidnap us every moment, to plan.

Rather, all this is to make us understand that He is not a calculating and miserly God, external, tight and biased; but a munificent and conciliatory Father.

Lord of the Kingdom who does not wait first for our little ‘perfections’.

The metaphor that follows the initial parable is intended to emphasize that any lack of result is not to be attributed to the lack of vitality of the Seed, nor to the divine Work, but to man’s freedom; to his condition of limit or incoherence.

Unfortunately, from the earliest generations of believers, the positive Call of Jesus has been reinterpreted somewhat backwards: with moralistic and individualistic overtones (vv.10-20) that have undermined its genuineness.

In this way, the initial proposal of personal Faith became contaminated with the customary purist and fall-back [guilt-ridden] outlook typical of the surrounding philosophies and religions, as well as common thought.

Certain configurations of ecclesial order subsequently normalized the same exceptional power of the Message; so unprecedented. In particular, the new sense of adequacy, confidence and self-esteem that the Son of God intended to communicate to His friends, and to the world of the least.

[Wednesday 3rd wk. in O.T.  January 29, 2025]

A new God: perhaps a deluded one?

(Mk 4:1-20)

In a world that has lost its references but is perhaps trying to create more authentic and profound ones, the mission of maternity and paternity of those with experience is not only a material support: it extends to the more ancient discernment of the things of the soul.

The stony terrain and scorching climate of Palestine did not make life easy for those who lived from farming.

The scarcity of rain and the intrusion into the fields of those who wanted to shorten the journey destroyed the plants.

Tiring action and few tangible results.

Despite the enormous difficulties, every year the farmer sowed the seed generously - and ploughed, animated by faith in the seed's inner life force and in the munificence of nature.

Ploughing was after sowing, to prevent the turned clods of soil from immediately drying out under the powerful heat and not allowing the seed to take root, thanks to a minimum of moisture.

Thus the sower did not select the different types of soil beforehand.

The parables compare the lived reality and the world of the Spirit.

The seed already works: the new 'coming kingdom' is not glorious, but here and there it takes root and produces - even where you do not expect it.

To a respectable mindset this sounds like madness, but the divine Farmer does not choose the type of 'soil', nor does he discriminate on the basis of the percentage of production [which would seem easy to predict].

The Sower even accepts that his 'grain' fallen on the 'good' (v.8 Greek text) i.e. full and fruitful soil [of his disciples and not] will bear fruit differently: "and they brought one thirty and one sixty and one hundred".

Jesus means that the work of evangelisation cannot be measured with fussiness.

His Word remains as the Beginning thrown into the human heart by the One who is not stingy, nor exclusive - but magnanimous.

His Church is a small world alternative to both empire and selective religions: it has no intention of carving out disciples who are 'better' than others and isolated from the reality of the human family.

A new way of life.

Says the Tao Tê Ching (XL): "Returning is the movement of the Tao; weakness is what the Tao adopts. The ten thousand creatures that are under the sky have life from being; being has life from non-being'.

And Master Wang Pi comments: 'Being has non-being for its utility: this is its return'. Master Ho-shang Kung adds: "The root is that towards which the Tao moves, which in its motion makes the ten thousand creatures live. If they oppose it, they perish. The Tao always makes use of softness and weakness, that is why it can last a long time".

God does not force the growth of the 'grain' in each of us, but waits patiently. He even accepts that it sprouts badly, or not at all.

Since he scatters overflowingly on all kinds of hearts [even on the asphalt] he knows that he will be accused of being careless: he is not concerned with the quantity (!), nor with the immediate outward fruits (!) of his 'seed' - he does not care that the work be 'effective from the beginning' (!).

But he cares to make us understand that he is Father, not the calculating God of the most varied beliefs: stingy, outwardly stingy, stingy, and prejudiced.

The parable of the Sower as historically narrated by Jesus (vv.1-9) denotes the total positivity of his Message: he proclaims a new world; first of all a different, tolerant and benevolent Heaven.

The principle of our life as saved is not what we do for God, but what He - Generous and Serene - does for us. Just like a condescending and longsuffering Parent, who ceaselessly offers opportunities for life.

The Kingdom of the Lord is not to be prepared and set up [according to normal preconceptions] but welcomed.

The Master intended to shift the criterion of the pious life: from personal effort to 'letting oneself be saved'.

The Redemption has roots of the unprecedented that displace propositions and expectations.

It is not founded on plotted tracks.

It emerges from a providential initiative, in gratuitous liberality; from the tolerant calm of Heaven - which allows us a process and a broad time for growth.

The metaphor that follows the initial parable is intended to emphasise that any lack of result is not to be attributed to the Seed's lack of vitality, nor to the divine Work, but to man's freedom; to his condition of limitation or inconsistency.

Unfortunately, subsequent reflection - within a few decades of the Lord's death - began to suffer from the dominant cultural cliché [triggering a ridiculous competition with religions].

Purist expectations on the side have gradually eroded both the sense of the proclamation of the near and superabundant Kingdom and the nature of the Gift, as well as the transparency of its submissive availability to all. 

The Son exclusively proclaimed the longsuffering of the Father: Subject, Motive and Engine of our ability to accept the Vocation, and face the personal journey.

In later reworking, the original parables became allegories, overflowing with symbols with a definite moralistic meaning.

Allegories are generally trivial narratives, veined with impersonal and primal considerations [here, on the "quality of the soil"].

This passage testifies to the difficulty of understanding the Son of God's astounding original call.

He intended to propose a path of Faith to all, precisely to supplant the anxious weight of the oppressive archetype of the various doctrines and behavioural casuistry.

The ethicist yoke does not start from Love: it presupposes stinginess, inadequacy, and shame everywhere; even in the spiritual life [shrunken, perpetually in the balance, always and everywhere insufficient].

The protagonist of the passage (from v.15) is no longer God and His munificent gesture [who spares no expense in sowing His Seed in scattering], but the type of earth: the apostle himself - who would thus become the subject of the spiritual journey.

Disaster.

Guilty always (vv.15-19): you have not watched over the one who snatches the Seed; you have had only initial fervour, you have no root in you, and you are inconstant; and if worried, seduced, or covetous, you will be unfruitful...

Finally, even if you were grounded in 'the beautiful one' (v.20) you should still be careful... because you can have different results: 'one thirty and sixty and a hundred' (v.20).

Impossible to succeed. In short, devotion and obsession seem to go hand in hand [against 'nature'].

But one enters a minefield - against the main lines of any personal inclination and talent, or genuine charisma even of the group.

It seems that it is the woman and the man [those who receive the Word] who must focus on themselves, identify their faults, and - having finally become aware of them and their clear ability - strive to 'improve', on pain of exclusion from the ranks of the 'best'.

All this would induce precisely the most motivated or euphoric people to depersonalise the very character of the Calling, to deny their intimate life, to a crazy expenditure of energy.

Having erased trust in the tide of the Coming Seed - that is, having lost the propulsive dynamism of ordinary existence and its opportunities for life - each one would always find before him those imperfections that then stand in the way.

In fact, those who are unaware of man's diverse and very normal energies [all malleable and potentially preparatory to developments; to be perceived in the round, assumed and invested in] neglect their own essence and turn into those deadly alcoves (of themselves and others) that they proclaim they would never want to be.

As a result of extrinsic or recondite efforts, it is precisely the one-sided 'phenomena', and the sterilised, that end up losing their way to the astonishment of God that displaces.

This from the valorisation of opposites.

Moreover, more than spontaneous souls, precisely such firsts in the class put their real soul inclination in the balance - perhaps mistaking character nature for ballast.

The (historical) result: here we are all ready to attack, each other. It is the picture of today's lacerations; of the usual Guelphs versus Ghibellines.

This is due to the fact that we have gone from the fascinating proposal of Faith, to the fatigue of religious [and moralising] retreat to the 'terrain'.

Land paradoxically increasingly superficial, insubstantial, stony, stifled, unintegrated - one-way and outward!

Parables, and the mystery of blindness: Narration and transmutation

Being lost, for transformation

(Mk 4:10-12.25; cf. Mt 13:10-17; Lk 8:9-10.18)

St Paul expresses the sense of the "mystery of blindness" that contrasts him on his journey with the famous expression "thorn in the flesh": wherever he went, enemies were already ready; and unexpected disagreements.

So it is with us too: fateful events, catastrophes, emergencies, disintegration of the old reassuring certainties - all external and swampy; until recently assessed with a sense of permanence.

Perhaps in the course of our existence, we have already realised that misunderstandings were the best ways to reactivate ourselves, and introduce the energies of renewed Life.

These are those resources or situations that we might never have imagined as allies to our own and others' fulfilment.

Erich Fromm says:

"To live is to be born at every moment. Death occurs when one ceases to be born. Birth is therefore not an act; it is an uninterrupted process. The purpose of life is to be fully born, but the tragedy is that most of us die before we are truly born'.

Indeed, in the climate of turmoil or absurd divergence [that compels us to regenerate] the most neglected intimate virtues sometimes emerge. 

New energies - seeking space - and external powers. Both malleable; unusual, unimaginable, heterodox.

But they find the solutions, the true way out of our problems; the way to a future that is not a mere rearrangement of the previous situation, or of how we imagined 'should have been and done'.

Once a cycle is over, we begin a new phase; perhaps with greater rectitude and frankness - brighter and more natural, humanising, close to the 'divine'.

Authentic and engaging contact with our deepest states of being is acutely generated precisely by detachments.

They bring us into dynamic dialogue with the eternal reservoirs of transmuting forces that inhabit us, and belong to us most.

Primordial experience that goes straight to the heart.

Within us such a path 'fishes' the creative, fluctuating, unprecedented option.

In this way, the Lord transmits and opens his proposal using 'images'.

Arrow of Mystery that goes beyond the fragments of consciousness, of culture, of procedures, of what is common.

For a knowledge of oneself and the world that goes beyond that of history and the chronicle; for the active awareness of other contents.

Until labour and chaos itself guide the soul and force it to another beginning, to a different gaze (all shifted), to a new understanding of ourselves and the world.

Well, the transformation of the universe cannot be the result of a cerebral or dirigiste teaching; rather, of a narrative exploration - one that does not turn people away from themselves.

And Jesus knows this.

New interpretation of the different Grounds

Evolution of the Alliance in times of crisis: usual flaws, different harmonizations

(Mt 13:18-23)

God is munificent, especially in the age of rebirth from crisis: also a time of generous sowing by the Father.

He remains Farmer of his seedlings - more adventurous and less respectable ones than traditionalist, or fashionable.

Obviously, the Word of the Master and Lord warns against anything that might prevent a new Genesis - first of all, that we often wait to mechanically return to the roles and the old system of things; to the habituated, outward-looking, dirigiste model.

We are perhaps still too tied to cravings and previous economic levels (v.22) overwhelmed by things... not accepting the emergence of opposites that we had never experienced or planned for (v.19).

We still think we can go back to “everything as before”; to the superficiality of the society of the look not rooted in conviction; of the immediately enthusiastic exteriority (vv.20-21) that does not move the eye.

Instead, the dissimilar tide Comes so that we learn to fix our eye within, elsewhere, and beyond - to focus on our own and others' 'unique figure' in the conviviality of differences.

It is likely that the knowledge or way of life that we would like to reaffirm is still tied to pleasing, old, or à la page standards - now inadequate to provide new answers to new questions.

And perhaps this has led us too much to tracing and imitating the disqualified “having-appearing”, instead of the precious being, and that character at the heart of our Call by Name.

It is not out of the question that we have allowed ourselves to become accustomed to decision-making nomenclatures or to the rushing through performance anxiety.

They disregard the «beautiful terrain» of uniqueness, of the unprecedented vocational gift [it would lead to better contact with the disregarded energies of our genuine inclination - nested among the inconsistencies].

Here we are, indeed, all caught up in the concerns of restoring “as before” or “as we should be”...

This, despite the fact that the present traumas are explicit signals to broaden the hitherto stifled consciousnesses (as in «brambles»: v.22).

Eloquent Appeals - even contemporary ones - to launch each side towards the Exodus, for the conquest of renewed freedom; territories of the soul, albeit hidden, in the core of essence.

All the imprint of an empty, formal spirituality that we drag along, still inhibits a good perception of today, and it enervates, takes away intimate strength.

It does not allow one to follow one's own impulse in harmony with the inner world - or one's own tendencies in listening to the unceasing call of the Gospels [which is still being disseminated by unaccredited prophets, to announce the truth and the creation of an alternative world].

Well, something or the whole of life may turn out to be dazed; and more than ever not going the right way and clear: not making us as special as the Sower would wish - precisely because of the stereotypes or the emotional vacuums that steal the Seed, or rather choke the plant; or because of the usual presumption that resumes to dominate immediately and thus prevents us from putting down «deep roots».

We will then have to lay aside the cerebral whirlwinds and unilateral volitional paraphernalia; leaving space and indulging to the new current of quality that is bringing us.

By surrendering to the proposals of the tide of 'coming grains' to guide us beyond the old contentions: to the natural, original energy of Providence, which knows more than we do.

To the Wind of the Spirit that deploys the grains beyond - where you do not expect - it does not matter what percentage is productive (v.23b) but our «beautiful» attunement (v.23a Greek text) that helps to bring us up to speed with the reality of farsighted blending.

They will tidy everything up, otherwise: beyond habitual mental systems - and every result will be more shrewd, in favour of the Peripheries.

Without too much disposition and calculation in the choice of ground [once pretentiously removed and sanitized upstream] we will realize that the Sower will have finally crumbled so many worldly pedestals; not to humiliate anyone, but to bestow surprises of astounding fruitfulness, even for the growth of every creed (all denominations).

His is everywhere and always an exceptional generous and creative Action, put in place to regenerate and empower convictions.

Not to make us redo the usual textbook actions or clichés [and resume playing with performance, or with shackled restraints of widely approved patterns].

If we want to synchronize the same movement as the Sower, we must with Him and like Him move towards the indigence of the various terrains (existential situations).

A special narrowness - even more acute in times of global emergency - that forces one to 'move', to become itinerant, to disseminate everywhere.

And not only collecting the «hundred for one» (v.23) in the usual protected 'centre'.

"Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away" (Mk 13: 31). Let us pause a moment to reflect on this prophecy of Christ.

The expression "Heaven and earth" recurs frequently in the Bible in reference to the whole universe, the entire cosmos. Jesus declares that all this is destined to "pass away"; not only the earth but also Heaven, which here is meant in a purely cosmic sense and not as synonymous with God. Sacred Scripture knows no ambiguity: all Creation is marked by finitude, including the elements divinized by ancient mythologies; there is no confusion between Creation and the Creator but rather a decided difference. With this clear distinction Jesus says that his words "will not pass away", that is to say they are part of God and therefore eternal. Even if they were spoken in the concreteness of his earthly existence, they are prophetic words par excellence, as Jesus affirms elsewhere, addressing the heavenly Father: "I have given them the words which you gave me, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me" (Jn 17: 8). In a well-known parable Christ compares himself to the sower and explains that the seed is the word (cf. Mk 4: 14); those who hear it, accept it and bear fruit (cf. Mk 4: 20) take part in the Kingdom of God, that is, they live under his lordship. They remain in the world, but are no longer of the world. They bear within them a seed of eternity a principle of transformation that is already manifest now in a good life, enlivened by charity, and that in the end will produce the resurrection of the flesh. This is the power of Christ's word.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 15 November 2009]