No more frills: humanity cluttered with - or free

(Lk 14:1-6)

The Bible often presents Salvation under the image of a banquet in which God himself participates alongside man.

Here specific reference is made to the assembly of those summoned to break the Bread [«to eat bread»: v.1] - a scene still dominated by Judaizers.

In appearance, the surface is calm. All the more reason for the (mischievous) Lord to throw in the pebble, to reshape its soporific sides.

His directness still astounds, and baffles any quietism.

Strange that a hydropic could have entered the House of a Pharisee - but significant, in the sense of the Gospel call.

In the leader's abode [old-fashioned, or 'approved' fashion] the housed humanity is cluttered with vaguely spiritual shredding - not of the luminous, living Faith.

There one moves with difficulty.

In the assembly, someone doesn't stand up; he is crammed inside... of things that have to be eliminated as soon as possible - or he won't make it.

But it is only Jesus' question that immediately cleanses useless excesses.

Inside the well of v.5 it is as if not a donkey or an ox had fallen in, but a brother or a son, and ourselves.

In short: the excuses of legalism or conformist manners do not even touch the Father, while the leaders present do not know what word to utter.

Nor do they even vaguely conceive of the Will of God as Love that readily intervenes, that gets involved in vulnerabilities or eccentricities.

Instead, the Son - and whoever makes him present - grasps the hand of shaky humanity in its Oneness. And heals its limitation.

But He activates Himself not to stick it behind [as the directors of the time would have done] but to make it lighter, able to breathe and not just compress.

A merciless brushstroke this of Lk, emphasizing the difference between empty “teaching” - albeit in religious form - and 'action of Faith' linked to concrete life (v.3).

Yes: it was precisely the “expert ones” who lacked «the pleasure of recognizing the other [...] of being himself and of being different» (FT, 217-218).

In short, even originality or pain comes to us to generate right eyes; to teach us how to live. To remind us that we are called to be born again, far beyond the idea of 'perfection'.

In doing so, we cannot rely solely on context, on external approval; realities often lacking in humanizing passion.

There is a 'fire' that lives within us, a Calling by Name that knows how to dispose of useless, other people's ballasts. They trample and pollute us; therefore they must be placed in the background and flown over.

Our journey in the Spirit - even in the official place of worship - is an unprecedented route towards personal fulfilment.

We cannot turn away from the Goal that belongs to us.

In this way, any pain will be short-lived, and it will be a lesson: there we are simply giving birth to the essentiality that inhabits us.

Easter leap of Liberty.

[Friday 30th wk. in O.T.  October 31, 2025]

The end of a sacred order: stuffed - or free

(Lk 14:1-6)

The Bible often presents salvation as a banquet in which God himself participates alongside man.

Here, specific reference is made to the assembly of those summoned to break bread [‘to eat bread’: v. 1 Greek text] – a scene still dominated by traditionalists or conformist Judaizers.

On the surface, all appears calm. All the more reason for the Lord (very mischievously) to throw a spanner in the works, to reshape its soporific aspects.

Where He makes His presence felt in earnest - even in places dedicated to the peaceful celebration of the Sacraments - nothing remains as it was before.

His frankness still astounds and confounds all quietism.

It is strange that a hydropic man could have entered the house of a Pharisee - but significant, in the sense of the Gospel message.

In the home of the leader [whether old-fashioned or 'approved' fashionable], the human guests are stuffed with vaguely spiritual platitudes - not with the luminous and living Faith.

There, one moves with difficulty.

In the assembly (coincidentally), someone cannot stand; he is full of... with things to be eliminated as soon as possible - or they will not make it.

But it is only Jesus' question that immediately cleanses the useless excesses inoculated drop by drop by false guides into the unfortunate.

Inside the well in verse 5, it is as if not a donkey or an ox had fallen, but a brother or a son, and ourselves.

In short: the excuses of religious legalism [ancient or à la page] and good manners do not even touch the Father.

The leaders present do not know what to say: in reality, they have nothing to say (to anyone).

They do not even vaguely conceive of God's Will as Love that intervenes promptly, that gets involved in our vulnerabilities or eccentricities.

Pope Francis would say of them, in his third encyclical: 'accustomed to looking away, passing by, ignoring situations' (Fratelli Tutti, n.64).

Instead, the Son - and anyone who makes him Present - takes humanity by the hand, in its Uniqueness. And heals its limitations.

But He acts not to stick to it [as the directors of the time would have done] but to make it lighter, able to breathe and not just compress.

Humanity liberated, finally autonomous - capable of tracing a path on its own legs; even if it turns out to be 'distant'.

This is a ruthless brushstroke by Luke, which highlights the difference between empty 'teaching' - albeit in religious form - and 'action of Faith' linked to concrete life (v.3).

In choosing between the real good of the person and the reputation of the group [the ruling clique], Jesus has no doubt.

On the other hand, for the great devotees and leaders, giving credence, or the prestige of the institution, and the 'custom' of doctrine, as well as great sophisticated ideas... are their whole life.

The Master still does not remain silent today, and ridicules the personal inconsistency of some masters of theology who, while maintaining appearances, feel exempt from everything in their private lives.

In fact, it is precisely the 'experts' who sometimes lack 'the taste for recognising the other [...] for being themselves and for being different' (FT, 217-218).

Theology yes, but of the Incarnation. The spice of life is not permanence: it is better to eliminate unnecessary burdens.

In our assemblies there are naive and practising believers, but they are not very aware, rather unprepared and misguided.

We could say: faithful considered as glasses to be filled, devotees destined to say 'yes sir' and not express themselves: evaluated without any significant spiritual personality.

They are not welcomed as a gift, but rather neglected; cloaked in the thoughts, practices and objectives of others.

For some community leaders... they are just numbers.

Let us try to paraphrase John Paul II (Dives in Misericordia nos. 12-13) but with reference to the figure of the hydropic.

There are souls - of every Christian denomination - who fear becoming victims of oppression and hide themselves.

They lack inner freedom, the possibility of expressing their vocational character, of expressing what they believe in.

They do not feel able to be guided by the voice of conscience, which intimately indicates the right path to follow.

For fear of retaliation or ridicule, or rather lack of awareness, they prefer a peaceful existence in all areas of life.

Expressing themselves in a spontaneous, natural and healthy way could be uncomfortable - not in tune with the local domestication programme.

Thus, while manipulators tend to use them without scruples, simple people continue to place themselves in a subordinate position.

They do not even remotely imagine or are educated to consider themselves custodians of a precious, unique Pearl for the work of Salvation.

They undergo a kind of daily torture that clogs them with external ideas, observances that do not correspond to their soul and their right to truth and freedom.

In short, as the Gospel passage illustrates, the Church takes the educational risk and reveals the meaning of 'Christ in action' only when it brings unstable people closer to the sources of conscience and personal 'flesh'.

In short, even originality or pain come to us to generate the right eyes; to teach us how to live. To remind us that we are called to be born again, far beyond the idea of 'perfection'.

In this way, we cannot rely solely on context, on external approval; realities often devoid of humanising passion.

There is a 'fire' that lives within us, a Call by Name that knows how to dispose of useless, other people's ballast. They trample on us and pollute us; therefore, they must be placed in the background and overlooked.

Our journey in the Spirit - even in the official place of worship - is an unprecedented itinerary towards personal fulfilment.

We cannot stray from the Goal that belongs to us.

In this way, every pain will be short-lived and will teach us something: there we are simply giving birth to the essentiality that dwells within us.

The transition from religious meaning to a life of Faith brings with it the Easter leap of Freedom.

To internalise and live the message:

How would you describe your transition from religiosity to Faith?

Have you purified yourself of the inculcated trappings that weighed down your essential personality?

Have you freed yourself from the sophisticated thoughts that overlook the 'flesh'?

Have you made the Easter leap of freedom?

Reading, study and meditation of the Word should then flow into a life of consistent fidelity to Christ and his teachings.

Saint James tells us: "Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act - they will be blessed in their doing" (1:22-25). Those who listen to the word of God and refer to it always, are constructing their existence on solid foundations. "Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them", Jesus said, "will be like a wise man who built his house on rock" (Mt 7:24). It will not collapse when bad weather comes.

To build your life on Christ, to accept the word with joy and put its teachings into practice: this, young people of the third millennium, should be your programme!

[Pope Benedict, Message for the 21st World Youth Day, 9 April 2006]

11. Man rightly fears falling victim to an oppression that will deprive him of his interior freedom, of the possibility of expressing the truth of which he is convinced, of the faith that he professes, of the ability to obey the voice of conscience that tells him the right path to follow. The technical means at the disposal of modern society conceal within themselves not only the possibility of self-destruction through military conflict, but also the possibility of a "peaceful" subjugation of individuals, of environments, of entire societies and of nations, that for one reason or another might prove inconvenient for those who possess the necessary means and are ready to use them without scruple. An instance is the continued existence of torture, systematically used by authority as a means of domination and political oppression and practiced by subordinates with impunity. 

Together with awareness of the biological threat, therefore, there is a growing awareness of yet another threat, even more destructive of what is essentially human, what is intimately bound up with the dignity of the person and his or her right to truth and freedom.

13. The Church lives an authentic life when she professes and proclaims mercy-the most stupendous attribute of the Creator and of the Redeemer-and when she brings people close to the sources of the Savior's mercy, of which she is the trustee and dispenser.

[Pope John Paul II, Dives in Misericordia]

"The passage from the Gospel we have heard is from the fourteenth chapter of Luke," explained the Pope, noting that "almost the entire chapter, except for a small section at the end, revolves around a meal, around the table, and everything that happens there happens at the table." Hence "the idea of the banquet at the end of the chapter," in the parable told by Jesus, particularly in verses 15-24 proposed by the liturgy of the day.
Referring to the beginning of the chapter, the Pontiff pointed out that "Jesus went to lunch at the home of a Pharisee who had invited him: Jesus always accepted." But, "as soon as he entered, he saw a man suffering from dropsy and immediately went to heal him: Jesus always wants to heal us, all of us." However, the Pope recalled, "it was the Sabbath, all the doctors of the law were there, and he asked permission: 'Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath? And "these people, who never, ever said what they thought — they were hypocrites — remained silent."
Jesus healed that sick man.
[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 07/11/2018]

XXX Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [26 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Another lesson on prayer from Jesus in the Gospel, and what a lesson! 

   First Reading from the Book of Sirach (35:15b-17, 20-22a)

 'God does not judge by appearances' (Sir 35) The book of Sirach, written by Ben Sira around 180 BC in Jerusalem, was born in a time of peace and cultural openness under Greek rule. However, this apparent serenity hides a risk: contact between Jewish and Greek culture threatens the purity of the faith, and Ben Sira intends to transmit the religious heritage of Israel in its integrity. The Jewish faith, in fact, is not a theory, but an experience of covenant with the living God, discovered progressively through his works. God is not a human idea, but a surprising revelation, because 'God is God and not a man' (Hos 11:9). The central text affirms that God does not judge according to appearances: while men look at the outside, God looks at the heart. He hears the prayer of the poor, the oppressed, the orphan and the widow, and – in a wonderful image – 'the widow's tears run down God's cheeks', a sign of his mercy that vibrates with compassion. Ben Sira teaches that true prayer arises from precariousness: when man discovers himself to be poor and without support, his heart truly opens to God. Precarity and prayer are of the same family: only those who recognise their weakness pray sincerely. Finally, the sage warns that it is not outward sacrifices that please God, but a pure heart disposed to do good: What pleases the Lord above all is that we keep away from evil. The Lord is a just judge, who does not show partiality, but looks at the truth of the heart. In summary, Ben Sira reminds us that God does not judge by appearances but by the heart, that authentic prayer arises from poverty, and that divine mercy is manifested in his compassionate closeness to the little ones and the humble.

Responsorial Psalm (33/34:2-3, 16, 18, 19, 23)

 Here is another alphabetical psalm, i.e., each verse follows the order of the letters of the Hebrew alphabet. This indicates that true wisdom consists in trusting in God in everything, from A to Z. The text echoes the first reading from Sirach, which encouraged the Jews of the second century to maintain the purity of their faith in the face of the seductions of Greek culture. The central theme is the discovery of a God who is close to human beings, especially those who suffer: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted." This is one of the greatest revelations of the Bible: God is not a distant or jealous being, but a Father who loves and shares in human suffering. Ben Sira poetically said that "our tears flow down God's cheeks": an image of his tender and compassionate mercy. This revelation is rooted in the journey of Israel. In the time of Moses, pagan peoples imagined rival and envious gods. Genesis corrects this view, showing that suspicion of God is a poison, symbolised by the serpent. Through the prophets, Israel gradually came to understand that God is a Father who accompanies, liberates and consoles, the 'God-with-us' (Emmanuel). The burning bush (Ex 3) is the foundation of this faith: 'I have seen the misery of my people, I have heard their cry, I know their sufferings'. Here God reveals himself as the One who sees, listens and acts. He does not remain a spectator, but inspires Moses and his children with the strength to liberate, transforming suffering into hope and commitment. The psalm reflects this experience: after undergoing trials, the people proclaim their praise: "I will bless the Lord at all times" because they have experienced a God who listens, liberates, watches over, saves and redeems. The name "YHWH," the "Lord," indicates precisely the constant presence of God alongside his people. Finally, the text teaches that in times of trial it is not only permissible but necessary to cry out to God: He is attentive to our cry and responds, not always by eliminating suffering, but by making himself present, reawakening trust, and giving us the strength to face evil. In summary, the psalm and the reflection that accompanies it give us three certainties: God is close to those who suffer and hears the cry of the poor. His presence does not take away the pain, but illuminates it and transforms it into hope. True faith comes from trust in this God who sees, hears, frees and accompanies man at all times.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (4:6-8, 16-18)

 "The good fight" (2 Tim 4:6-18). The text presents St Paul's last spiritual testament, written while he was in prison in Rome, aware that he would soon be executed. The letters to Timothy, although perhaps composed or completed by a disciple, contain his authentic words of farewell, imbued with faith and serenity. Paul describes his imminent death with the Greek verb analuein, which means 'to untie the ropes', 'to weigh anchor', 'to dismantle the tent': images that evoke the departure for a new journey, the one towards eternity. Looking back, the apostle takes stock of his life using the sporting metaphor of running and fighting: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." Like an athlete who never gives up, Paul has reached the finish line and knows that he will receive the "crown of righteousness," the reward promised to all the faithful. He does not boast about himself, because this crown is not a personal privilege, but a gift offered to all those who have lovingly desired the manifestation of Christ. The 'just judge', God, does not look at appearances but at the heart — as Sirach taught — and will give glory not only to Paul, but to all those who live in the hope of the Lord's coming. The apostle's life was a constant race towards the glorious manifestation of Christ, the horizon of his faith and his service. He recognises that the strength to persevere does not come from him, but from God himself: 'The Lord gave me strength, so that I might fulfil the proclamation of the gospel and all nations might hear it'. This divine strength sustained his mission, enabling him to proclaim Christ until the end. Paul explains that Christian life is not a competition, but a shared race, in which each person is called to run at their own pace, with the same ardent desire for the coming of Christ. In his letter to Titus, he defined Christians as those who “wait for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ” — words that the liturgy repeats every day at Mass. In his hour of trial, Paul also confesses the loneliness of the apostle: The first time I made my defence, no one came to my support, but all deserted me. May it not be held against them (v. 16) . Like Jesus on the cross and Stephen at the moment of his stoning, he forgives and transforms abandonment into an experience of intimate communion with the Lord, who becomes his only strength and consolation. Paul is the poor man of whom Ben Sira speaks, the one whom God listens to and consoles, the one whose tears flow down God's cheeks. His final words reveal the hope that overcomes death: "So I was delivered from the lion's mouth. The Lord will deliver me from all evil and bring me safely into heaven, and save me in his kingdom" (vv. 17-18). He does not speak of physical deliverance - he knows that death is imminent - but of spiritual deliverance from the greatest danger: losing faith, ceasing to fight. The Lord has kept him faithful and given him perseverance until the end. For Paul, death is not defeat, but a passage to glory. It is the birth into true life, the entrance into the Kingdom where he will sing forever: 'To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.'

In summary: The text presents Paul as a model of the believer who is faithful to the end. He experiences death as a departure towards God, not as an end. He looks at life as a race sustained by grace. He recognises that strength and perseverance come from the Lord. He understands that the reward is promised to all who desire the coming of Christ. He forgives those who abandon him and finds God's presence in solitude and weakness. He sees death as a passage into the glory of the Kingdom. Paul's "good fight" thus becomes the struggle of every Christian: to remain faithful in trials, to the point of running the last stretch with our gaze fixed on Christ, the source of strength, peace and hope.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (18:9-14)

A small preliminary observation before entering into the text: Luke clearly tells us that this is a parable... so we must not imagine that all the Pharisees or all the tax collectors of Jesus' time were like those described here. No Pharisee or tax collector perfectly matched this portrait: Jesus actually presents us with two very typical and simplified inner attitudes to highlight the moral of the story. He wants us to reflect on our own attitude, because we will probably recognise ourselves now in one, now in the other, depending on the day. Let us move on to the parable: last Sunday, Luke already offered us a teaching on prayer; the parable of the widow and the unjust judge taught us to pray without ever becoming discouraged. Today, however, it is a tax collector who is offered as an example. What relationship, one might ask, can there be between a poor widow and a rich tax collector? It is certainly not the bank account that is at issue, but the disposition of the heart. The widow is poor and forced to humble herself before a judge who ignores her; the tax collector, perhaps wealthy, bears the burden of a bad reputation, which is another form of poverty. Tax collectors were unpopular, and often not without reason: they lived in a period of Roman occupation and worked in the service of the occupiers. They were considered 'collaborators'. In addition, they dealt with a sensitive issue in every age: taxes. Rome set the amount due, and the tax collectors advanced it, then received full powers to recover it from their fellow citizens... often with a large profit margin. When Zacchaeus promises Jesus to repay four times as much to those he has defrauded, the suspicion is confirmed. Therefore, when the tax collector in the parable does not dare to raise his eyes to heaven and beats his breast saying, 'O God, have mercy on me, a sinner', perhaps he is only telling the plain truth. Being true before God, recognising one's own fragility: this is true prayer. It is this sincerity that makes him 'righteous' on his return home, says Jesus. The Pharisees, on the other hand, enjoyed an excellent reputation: their scrupulous fidelity to the Law, fasting twice a week (more than the Law required!), regular almsgiving, all expressed their desire to please God. And everything the Pharisee says in his prayer is true: he invents nothing. But, in reality, he does not pray. He contemplates himself. He looks at himself with complacency: he needs nothing, asks for nothing. He takes stock of his merits — and he has many! — but God does not think in terms of merit: his love is free, and all he asks is that we trust him. Let us imagine a journalist at the exit of the Temple interviewing the two men: Sir, what did you expect from God when you entered the Temple? Yes, I expected something. And did you receive it? Yes, and even more. And you, Mr Pharisee? No, I received nothing... A moment of silence, then he adds: But I didn't expect anything, after all. The concluding sentence of the parable sums it all up: "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted." Jesus does not want to present God as a moral accountant who distributes rewards and punishments. He states a profound truth: those who exalt themselves, that is, those who believe themselves to be greater than they are, like the Pharisee, close their hearts and look down on others. But those who believe themselves to be superior lose the richness of others and isolate themselves from God, who never forces the door of the heart. We remain as we were, with our human 'righteousness', so different from the divine. On the contrary, those who humble themselves, who recognise themselves as small and poor, see superiority in others and can draw on their wealth. As St Paul says: 'Consider others superior to yourselves.' And this is true: every person we meet has something we do not have. This perspective opens the heart and allows God to fill us with his gift. It is not a question of an inferiority complex, but of the truth of the heart. It is precisely when we recognise that we are not 'brilliant' that the great adventure with God can begin. Ultimately, this parable is a magnificent illustration of the first beatitude: 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven'.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

End of a "sacred" order

(Lk 13:31-35)

The context in which Jesus lives is threatening: the power [even of the periphery courts of the Empire] was absolute and he did not account to anyone for the small-scale management.

But the building up of the Kingdom of God does not depend on any authorization of rapacious rulers on the territory of the provinces.

Those who want to fulfil their mission cannot satisfy the «foxes» who usurp power.

They are small and harmful situation’s parasites, but quick - even if they are not big roaring fairs as in the roman and senatorial court.

With his cunning attitude, king Herod (astute collaborationist) had managed to secure dominance for several decades, and a life without big jolts.

Each village in Palestine was manned by officials and delators of the sovereign, as well as practitioners and subordinates of the official popular religion [including the Pharisees, which Jesus sends back to the sender: v.32].

Antipas always plotted to float on situations and be at peace. 

But after having deluded himself of having settled the Baptist and his school with him, here the king is again alarmed by the rise of a greater danger.

The young Rabbi spread deep confidence not in the strong, but in the weak. In this way, he was working deeply in consciences, and seemed to be able to outclass even the Prophets.

If the inspectors had rushed from the centre of power over the territory (v.31), Jesus must have made it really big. Thus demonstrating total freedom from conditioning.

Therefore, the success of his thought could have provoked disorder in the structure of the system.

But God’s messengers do not flee from risk. They do this not out of duty, but out of fidelity to themselves, and because they are attracted by a Vision that belongs to everyone: they manage to grasp and sense that the pains of childbirth will generate new Births.

In short, Jesus and his close friends live an existence marked by a kind of attraction of the Cross - out of Love that goes to the end, all the way, and does not disdain comparisons.

Jerusalem was the center of the people of God’ sons, "chosen" [only] to unfold the face of the Father.

Vocation of the holy city was not to surrender to a fox (v.32) but to become a brooding hen [v.34: properly, «hen»] that does not close but spreads wings for its little ones, gathering all the innocent.

Of course, their feeling for the fate of a homeland that lets itself go to vanities, to the ideology of power and its "advantage", embarking on the path of self-destruction, makes us weep with pain.

However - although defenestrated from his House in the holy city, as well as from the heart of those who demand only quietism - in Christ the authentic People of friends will propose themselves again (v.35) also on the path of failure.

Not colonizing the features, but in a simple way (not unilateral): inclusive; expanding the horizon and detaching from the tinsel and trappings.

Deviating from the cunning of Herod and all «foxes» (v.32).

[Thursday 30th wk. in O.T.  October 30, 2025]

End of a "sacred" order

(Lk 13:31-35)

The context in which Jesus lives is ominous: the power [even of the peripheral courts of the Empire] was absolute and accountable to no one for its petty management.

But the building of the Kingdom of God does not depend on any authorisation, on any permission, on any good-natured concession by the usual known and rapacious rulers, on the territory of the provinces.

Those who want to fulfil their mission cannot please the 'foxes' who usurp power.

They are small and harmful situational pests, but they are quick-witted - though not as big boisterous beasts as in the Roman and senatorial courts.

With his shrewd attitude, King Herod (a cunning collaborator) had managed to secure his rule for several decades, and a smooth life.

Every village in Palestine was manned by the ruler's officials and denouncers, as well as practitioners and subordinates of the official popular religion [also Pharisees, whom Jesus sends back: v.32].

Antipas always managed to float over the situation and be at peace. 

But after he had deluded himself that he had settled the Baptist and with him his school, here he was again alarmed by the emergence of a greater danger.

The young Rabbi exuded confidence not in the strong, but in the weak. In this way, he worked deep in the consciences, and it seemed that he could surpass even the Prophets.

In fact, he had begun to arouse more emotions than the usual proposal of purifying the Temple and rekindling the spirit of the identity-religious, ancient origins.

Then, if from the centre of power in the land the inspectors had hastily arrived (v.31), Jesus must have really done it. Thus demonstrating total freedom from conditioning.

Therefore the success of his thought could have caused turmoil in the system.

But God's messengers do not leave risk territory, even knowing what awaits them: rejection, and worse.

True envoys do not give up, they do not allow themselves to be overwhelmed by seductions, nor beguiled by intimidators.

They do not do it out of duty, but out of loyalty to themselves, and because they are attracted by a Vision that belongs to everyone.

They are able to grasp the paradoxical fruitfulness of the Mystery, and precisely foresee that the pains of childbirth will generate new Births.

Then without more ado they go up to the city that martyrs the non-middle-aged (v.33).

All this, face to face with the opposition of the sullen and well-organised official authorities, who know how to debase the effervescence of people's lives.

Jesus and his intimates, if true followers, lead an existence marked by a kind of attraction of the cross - for Love that goes all the way and does not disdain confrontations [not because they are animated by sorrowful masochisms].

Certainly, their feeling for the fate of a homeland that indulges in vanities, the ideology of power and its 'advantage', embarking on the track of self-destruction, brings tears of sorrow.

Jerusalem was the centre of the people of God's children, "chosen" [only] to unfold the face of the Father.

The vocation of the holy city was not to surrender itself to a fox (v.32) but to become a hen [v.34: properly, "hen"] that does not close but spreads its wings for its young, gathering all the innocent.

The 'animals' that Christ in his callings proposes to us as a model are not the regal and predominant ones such as the eagle, the bull or the lion, but rather the domestic, subordinate and insignificant ones: lamb, hen, donkey, foal [e.g., "the hen", "the colt", "the lamb", "the donkey", "the colt"]. Messianic Entrance (Lk 19:28-40) followed by the Wailing over Jerusalem (vv.41-44)].

For fear of not recognising him with sufficient dignity, his traditional 'bestiary' (as triumphant and High as it was meant to be inculcated in the unwitting masses) often had nothing to do, unfortunately, with the Gospel datum.

However - although defenestrated from its House in the holy city, as well as from the hearts of those who demand only quietism - in Christ the authentic People of friends will re-propose themselves (v.35) even on the road to failure.

Not out of affected goodness: in the meantime he will have broadened the horizon of his paternity to other peoples, in favour of concrete involvement.

This without - ever again - the swampy confines of local, specific, sometimes usurping culture, which everywhere produces alienation and disintegration.

By and large, things have gone as the encyclical Fratelli Tutti (paraphrasing) subtly denounces. In short, the best way forward has been deemed in history [by the prevailing dirigiste conviction] not to integrate, but to subjugate - arousing despair and constant distrust in the development of the common good. Despair and mistrust, masked "with the defence of certain values" [n.15].The ecclesiology of triumph once served as a foil to the kind of world that tended to dissolve particular consciousnesses.

In such top-down procedures, tensions were transferred by exacerbating even 'horizontal' conflicts - then colonising them; finally silencing them [FT nn.14-15].

Living word and current history, which sooner or later must be remedied. In a simple but not one-sided way: inclusive.

Thanks to a better biblical awareness and with the contribution of a new Magisterium, the living and cosmic Jesus becomes flesh.

He gradually detaches us from the trappings of a kingdom that seemed to satisfy consciences with the scheme of order... diverting us to the cunning of Herod and the "foxes" (v.32).

To internalise and live the message:

How do you live the critical moments of Redemption? Do you go along with the normalising inspectors who try to instil fear, or do you follow your prophetic mission?

What do you think of the cultural revolution taking place in the Church? Does it solicit - disturb - confirm you as son and brother? Let us hope so.

But what direction is this? How do we find it? Our Gospel passage offers two clues in this regard. In the first place it says that it is an ascent. This has first of all a very concrete meaning. Jericho, where the last part of Jesus' pilgrimage began, is 250 metres below sea-level, whereas Jerusalem the destination is located at 740 to 780 metres above sea level: a climb of almost 1,000 metres. But this external route is above all an image of the internal movement of existence that occurs in the following of Christ: it is an ascent to the true heights of being human. Man can choose an easy path and avoid every effort. He can also sink to the low and the vulgar. He can flounder in the swamps of falsehood and dishonesty. Jesus walks before us and towards the heights. He leads us to what is great, pure. He leads us to that healthy air of the heights: to life in accordance with the truth; to courage that does not let itself be intimidated by the gossip of prevalent opinions; to patience that bears with and sustains the other. He guides people to be open towards the suffering, to those who are neglected. He leads us to stand loyally by the other, even when the situation becomes difficult. He leads us to the readiness to give help; to the goodness that does not let itself be disarmed, even by ingratitude. He leads us to love he leads us to God. 

Jesus "went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem". If we interpret these words of the Gospel in the context of the way Jesus took in all its aspects a journey which, precisely, continues to the end of time in the destination, "Jerusalem", we can discover various levels indicated. Of course, first of all, it must be understood that this simply means the place, "Jerusalem": it is the city in which God's Temple stood, whose uniqueness must allude to the oneness of God himself. This place, therefore, proclaims two things: on the one hand it says that there is only one God in all the world, who exceeds by far all our places and times; he is that God to which the entire creation belongs. He is the God whom all men and women seek in their own depths, and of whom, in a certain way, they all have some knowledge. But this God gave himself a Name. He made himself known to us, he initiated a history with human beings; he chose a man Abraham as the starting point of this history. The infinite God is at the same time the close God. He, who cannot be confined to any building, nevertheless wants to dwell among us, to be totally with us. 

If Jesus, with the pilgrim Israel, goes up to Jerusalem, he goes there to celebrate with Israel the Passover: the memorial of Israel's liberation a memorial which, at the same time, is always a hope of definitive freedom, which God will give. And Jesus approaches this feast in the awareness that he himself is the Lamb in which will be accomplished what the Book of Exodus says in this regard: a lamb without blemish, a male, who at sunset, before the eyes of the children of Israel, is sacrificed "as an ordinance for ever" (cf. Ex 12: 5-6, 14). And lastly, Jesus knows that his way goes further: the Cross will not be his end. He knows that his journey will rend the veil between this world and God's world; that he will ascend to the throne of God and reconcile God and man in his Body He knows that his Risen Body will be the new sacrifice and the new Temple; that around him, from the hosts of Angels and Saints the new Jerusalem will be formed, that is in Heaven and yet also on the earth, because by his Passion he was to open the frontier between Heaven and earth. His way leads beyond the summit of the Mountain of the Temple to the heights of God himself: this is the great ascent to which he calls us all. He always remains with us on earth and he has always already arrived with God. He guides us on earth and beyond the earth. 

Thus, the dimensions of our sequela become visible in the ascent of Jesus the goal to which he wants to lead us: to the heights of God, to communion with God, to being-with-God. This is the true destination and communion with him is the way to it. Communion with Christ is being on the way, a permanent ascent toward the true heights of our call. Journeying on together with Jesus is at the same time also a journeying on in the "we" of those who want to follow him. It introduces us into this community. Since the way to true life, to being people in conformity with the model of the Son of God Jesus Christ, surpasses our own strength, this journey always means being carried. We find ourselves, so to speak, roped to Jesus Christ together with him on the ascent towards God's heights. He pulls and supports us. It is part of following Christ that we allow ourselves to be roped together; that we acknowledge we cannot do it alone. This act of humility, entering into the "we" of the Church is part of it; holding tight to the rope, the responsibility of communion not breaking the rope through stubbornness or self-importance. Humbly believing, with the Church, like being a roped-party on the ascent towards God, is an essential condition for the following of Christ. This being roped together also entails not behaving as masters of the Word of God, not running after a mistaken idea of emancipation. The humility of "being with" is essential for the ascent. The fact that in the Sacraments we always let the Lord once again take us by the hand is also part of it; that we let ourselves be purified and strengthened by him; that we accept the discipline of the ascent, even when we are weary.

[Pope Benedict, Palm Sunday homily 28 March 2010]