Today, in Italy and in other nations, the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, Corpus Christi, is being celebrated. In the second Reading of today’s liturgy, Saint Paul reawakens our faith in this mystery of communion (cf. 1 Cor 10:16-17). He highlights two effects of the shared chalice and the broken bread: the mystical effect and the communal effect.

First, the Apostle states: “The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break is it not a participation in the body of Christ?” (v. 16). These words express the mystical effect, or we might say the spiritual effect of the Eucharist: it relates to the union with Christ, who in the bread and the wine offers himself for the salvation of all. Jesus is present in the sacrament of the Eucharist to be our nourishment, to be assimilated and to become in us that renewing force that gives once again the energy and gives once more the desire to set out again after every pause or after every fall. But this requires our consent, our willingness to let ourselves, our way of thinking and acting, be transformed. Otherwise the Eucharistic celebrations in which we participate are reduced to empty and formal rituals. Often some go to Mass because they have to go, as if it were a social event, respectful but social. However, the mystery is something else. It is Jesus who is present and comes to nourish us.

The second effect is the communal one, and is expressed by Saint Paul in these words: “Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body” (v. 17). It is the mutual communion of those who participate in the Eucharist, to the point of becoming one body among them, in the same way that the bread that is broken and distributed is one. We are a community nourished by the body and blood of Christ. We are a community, nourished by the body and blood of Christ. Communion with the body of Christ is an effective sign of unity, of communion, of sharing. One cannot participate in the Eucharist without committing oneself to mutual fraternity, which is sincere. But the Lord knows well that our human strength alone is not enough for this. On the contrary, He knows that among His disciples there will always be the temptation of rivalry, envy, prejudice, division... We are all aware of these things. For this reason too He left us the Sacrament of His real, tangible and permanent Presence, so that, in remaining united to him, we may always receive the gift of fraternal love. “Abide in my love” (Jn 15:9), Jesus said; and this is possible thanks to the Eucharist. To abide in friendship, in love.

This twofold fruit of the Eucharist: first, union with Christ and second, communion between those who are nourished by him, generates and continually renews the Christian community. It is the Church that makes the Eucharist, but it is more fundamental that the Eucharist makes the Church, and allows her to be her mission, even before she accomplishes it. This is the mystery of communion, of the Eucharist: receiving Jesus so He may transform us from within, and receiving Jesus so that He may create unity in us and not division.

May the Blessed Virgin help us to always welcome with wonder and gratitude the great gift that Jesus gave us by leaving us the Sacrament of His Body and His Blood.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 14 June 2020]

Small coins and festival of the voracious God, in solemn appearances

(Mk 12:38-44)

Jesus faces the treasure of the Temple, the true ‘god’ of the whole sanctuary. The comparison is ruthless: one as opposed to the other (v.41).

Enigma that could not be solved with a simple ‘purification’ of the sacred place, or a replenishment of devotion.

It will be surprising, but the Gospel passage does not sing praises of individual humility which by faith deprives itself of everything: it is rather a radical appeal to church leaders and to the sense of institution.

The Lord is saddened by every expropriation conditioned by awe. Indeed, fear takes life from those who do not enjoy fullness.

Christ weeps the subordinate condition of the poor and neglected: He does not make her take the chair. He does not credit the situation. He does not want the woman already naked by two cents to undress all.

He seems distraught for that one silent figure; to underline the difference between the voracious demands of the ancient religions’ God and those of a completely different sign - in our favor - of the Father in the Faith.

While Jesus noticed and was mourning on the minuteous gesture of the little woman, the Apostles did not even notice the irrelevant poor creature, continuing to gape at the magnificence of the Temple.

Who knows what they were dreaming about... seduced by honor.

To divert them from the fever of reputation and considerations they desired to boast of, there was a need for an awareness; but to move them out of their place and yardstick the miracles would not have been enough.

Thus Jesus seeks to convey in conscience the Good News that the Father is the exact opposite of how he had been painted to them by the spiritual guides of the time.

The Eternal disconcerts: He does not take, does not appropriate, does not plunder, nor does absorb or debilitate us - but He is the One who gives.

He does not punish if you do not placate Him with both the little coins you have, without withholding a single one - even if only by doing in half (v.2).

The honour to God is not exclusive, but inclusive.

Paraphrasing the encyclical Fratelli Tutti, we could say that in authentic communities [as in families] «everyone contributes to the common purpose; everyone works for the common good, not denying each person’s individuality but encouraging and supporting it» (n.230).

The Son notes with bitterness that the beautiful protagonists themselves «devour the houses of widows» (v.40) as vampires. So convincing as to make the souls of the simple even their supporters and victims.

Christ is saddened by such unconscious complicity, induced by the lack of knowledge of the Father’s Face - preached as a leech God.

In fact, in the path of personal Faith true believers are not repeaters of external roles (vv.38-40).

We collaborate with the creative and deifying work of the Eternal in offering ourselves as a vital food for the humanity to which the Bridegroom has been taken away - here in the figure of the poor «widow» who bleed out.

In short, we must no longer macerate and wear ourselves out, because of the glory of the Almighty, but enrich ourselves with Him and pronounce fully!

A God all substance, of little epidermal appearance.

Yet the antithesis of the rich and poor was resurfacing in the early communities... to the detriment of the isolated.

Here, precisely the reversal of the fortunes had to become characteristic of the adoring Church, which is immersed in the same rhythm of the supreme vital Source.

It will therefore be the amiable institution that will remain naked and pilgrim, even in the space of the small and unsteady.

And the action of the assemblies of believers will be able to activate a new, convivial world, humanizing disharmonies.

A reality that beats ‘time’. For a ‘Kingdom’ really not neutral. But where does the soul counts, not the curriculum.

[Saturday 9th wk. in O.T.  June 6, 2026]

At the heart of the Liturgy of the Word we find the figure of the poor widow or, more precisely, we find her gesture when she dropped her last coins into the collection box of the Temple treasury. Thanks to Jesus' attentive look it has become the proverbial "widow's mite" and indeed is synonymous with the generosity of those who give unsparingly the little they possess. However, I would like first of all to emphasize the importance of the atmosphere in which this Gospel episode takes place, that is, the Temple of Jerusalem, the religious centre of the People of Israel and the heart of its whole life. The Temple was the place of public and solemn worship, but also of pilgrimage, of the traditional rites and of rabbinical disputations such as those recorded in the Gospel between Jesus and the rabbis of that time in which, however, Jesus teaches with unique authority as the Son of God. He judges the scribes severely as we have heard because of their hypocrisy: indeed, while they display great piety they are exploiting the poor, imposing obligations that they themselves do not observe. Indeed, Jesus shows his affection for the Temple as a house of prayer but for this very reason wishes to cleanse it from improper practices; actually he wants to reveal its deepest meaning which is linked to the fulfilment of his own Mystery, the Mystery of his death and Resurrection, in which he himself becomes the new and definitive Temple, the place where God and man, the Creator and his creature, meet. 

The episode of the widow's mite fits into this context and leads us, through Jesus' gaze itself, to focus our attention on a transient but crucial detail: the action of the widow, who is very poor and yet puts two coins into the collection box of the Temple treasury. Jesus is saying to us too, just as he said to his disciples that day: Pay attention! Take note of what this widow has done, because her act contains a great teaching; in fact, it expresses the fundamental characteristic of those who are the "living stones" of this new Temple, namely the total gift of themselves to the Lord and to their neighbour; the widow of the Gospel, and likewise the widow in the Old Testament, gives everything, gives herself, putting herself in God's hands for others. This is the everlasting meaning of the poor widow's offering which Jesus praises; for she has given more than the rich, who offer part of what is superfluous to them, whereas she gave all that she had to live on (cf. Mk 12: 44), hence she gave herself.

[Pope Benedict, homily in Brescia, 8 November 2009]

1. From the earliest times, Christian tradition has paid particular attention to women who, having lost their husbands, were left alone in life, often in need and defenceless. Even in the Old Testament, widows were often mentioned because of their plight and were entrusted to the caring attention of the community and, in particular, of those responsible for the law (cf. Ex 22:21; Dt 10:18; 24:17; 26:12; 27:19).

 The Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles are permeated by a spirit of charity towards widows. Jesus repeatedly shows thoughtful concern for them. For example, he publicly praises the offering made by a poor widow for the Temple (cf. Lk 21:3; Mk 12:43); he is moved with compassion at the sight of the widow in Nain accompanying her dead son to his burial, approaches her to say gently: “Do not weep”, and then returns the resurrected boy to her (cf. Lk 7:11–15). The Gospel also conveys to us the memory of Jesus’ words on the “need to pray always, without growing weary”, taking as an example the widow who, through the persistence of her pleas, obtains justice from the dishonest judge (cf. Lk 18:5); and those other words with which Jesus severely condemns the scribes who “devour widows’ houses” whilst hypocritically displaying long prayers (cf. Mk 12:40; Lk 20:47).

This attitude of Christ, which fulfils the true spirit of the Old Covenant, lies at the root of the pastoral exhortations of Saint Paul and Saint James regarding spiritual and charitable assistance to widows: “Honour widows” (1 Tim 5:3); “Pure and undefiled religion before God our Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress . . .” (Jas 1:27).

2. Yet within the Christian community, widows were not merely recipients of assistance; they also played an active role, almost as a specific participation in the universal vocation of Christ’s disciples to a life of prayer.

Indeed, the First Letter to Timothy indicates that a fundamental task entrusted to women who had been widowed was to devote themselves “to prayer and supplication day and night” (1 Tim 5:5). The Gospel of Luke presents us with a model of a holy widow in the person of “Anna, daughter of Phanuel”, who was widowed after only seven years of marriage. She, the Evangelist reports, “never left the temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer” (Lk 2:36–37). She had the great joy of being in the temple at the time of the presentation of the infant Jesus. In their affliction, widows can and must similarly count on precious graces of the spiritual life, to which they are invited to respond generously.

3. Within the pastoral and spiritual framework of the Christian community, there was also a ‘register’ in which a widow could be enrolled who, to use the words of the Letter just cited, ‘is not less than sixty years of age [that is, an elderly woman], has been married only once, and is known for her good works: that is, she has raised children, practised hospitality, washed the feet of the saints [an ancient rite of hospitality, adopted by Christianity], come to the aid of the afflicted, and performed every good work . . .” (1 Tim 5:9–10).

The early Church offers, in this, an example of charitable solidarity (cf. Acts 6:1), which we find in many other moments of Christian history, especially when, for social, political, war-related, epidemic or other reasons, the phenomenon of widowhood or other forms of loneliness took on worrying proportions. The Church’s charity could not remain inactive.

Today there are many other cases of lonely people, towards whom the Church cannot fail to be sensitive and solicitous. First of all, there is the category of the ‘separated’ and the ‘divorced’, to whom I devoted particular attention in the Apostolic Exhortation Familiaris consortio (cf. John Paul II, Familiaris consortio, n. 83). Then there are the “unmarried mothers”, exposed to particular difficulties of a moral, economic and social nature. To all these people I would like to say that, whatever their personal responsibility in the tragedy in which they find themselves involved, they continue to be part of the Church. The Pastors, sharing in their trial, do not abandon them to their own devices, but instead wish to do everything possible to help them, comfort them, and make them feel still bound to the fold of Christ.

The Church, even when she cannot give rise to practices that would be at odds with the demands of truth and with the very common good of families and society, never ceases to love, to understand, and to stand by all those who are in difficulty. The Church feels particularly close to those who, having a broken marriage behind them, persevere in fidelity by renouncing another union, and devote themselves, as far as they can, to the upbringing of their children. They deserve support and encouragement from everyone. The Church and the Pope cannot but praise them for their fine witness of Christian consistency, lived generously in the face of trial.

4. But since this catechesis is dedicated, like the others in the series we are presenting, to the lay apostolate in the Church, I would also like to mention here the large number of single people, and especially widows and widowers, who, being less burdened by family obligations, have voluntarily dedicated themselves to the development of Christian activities in parishes or in wider-reaching works. Their lives are thus raised to a higher participation in ecclesial life, as the fruit of a higher degree of love. From this springs, for the Church and for humanity, the benefit of a more generous dedication on the part of people who thus find a way to achieve a higher quality of life, fully expressing themselves in the service rendered to their brothers and sisters.

5. We conclude, therefore, by reiterating what we read in the Second Vatican Council, namely that the example of charitable love is set not only by Christian spouses and parents, but “is offered in another way by widows and single women, who too can contribute greatly to holiness and activity within the Church” (Lumen gentium, 41). Whatever the origin of their state of life, many of these people can recognise the higher plan of divine wisdom which guides their existence and leads it to holiness on the way of the Cross; a Cross which, in their circumstances, proves particularly fruitful.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 10 August 1994]

This […] Gospel passage is composed of two parts: one that describes how not to be followers of Christ; the other offers an example of a Christian. 

Let’s start with the first: what not to do. In the first part, Jesus accuses the scribes, the teachers of the law, of having three defects in their lifestyle: pride, greed and hypocrisy. They like “to have salutations in the market places and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts” (Mk 12:38-39). But beneath such solemn appearances they are hiding falsehood and injustice.

While flaunting themselves in public, they use their authority — as Jesus says — to devour “the houses of widows” (cf. v. 40); those who, along with orphans and foreigners, were considered to be the people most vulnerable and least protected. Lastly, Jesus says that the scribes, “for a pretence make long prayers” (v. 40). Even today we risk taking on these attitudes. For example, when prayer is separate from justice so that God cannot be worshiped, and causing harm to the poor. Or when one claims to love God, but instead offers him only grandiosity for one’s own advantage.

The second part of the Gospel follows this line of thinking. The scene is set in the temple of Jerusalem, precisely in the place where people are tossing coins as offerings. There are many rich people putting in large sums, and there is a poor woman, a widow, who contributes only two bits, two small coins. Jesus observes the woman carefully and calls the disciples’ attention to the sharp contrast of the scene.

The wealthy contributed with great ostentation what for them was superfluous, while the widow, Jesus says, “put in everything she had, her whole living” (v. 44). For this reason, Jesus says, she gave the most of all. Because of her extreme poverty, she could have offered a single coin to the temple and kept the other for herself. But she did not want to give just half to God; she divested herself of everything. In her poverty she understood that in having God, she had everything; she felt completely loved by him and in turn loved him completely. What a beautiful example this little old woman offers us! 

Today Jesus also tells us that the benchmark is not quantity but fullness. There is a difference between quantity and fullness. You can have a lot of money and still be empty. There is no fullness in your heart. This week, think about the difference there is between quantity and fullness. It is not a matter of the wallet, but of the heart. There is a difference between the wallet and the heart.... There are diseases of the heart, which reduce the heart to the wallet.... This is not good! To love God “with all your heart” means to trust in him, in his providence, and to serve him in the poorest brothers and sisters without expecting anything in return.

Allow me to tell you a story, which happened in my previous diocese. A mother and her three children were at the table, the father was at work. They were eating Milan-style cutlets.... There was a knock at the door and one of the children — they were young, 5, 6 and the oldest was 7 — comes and says: “Mom, there is a beggar asking for something to eat”. And the mom, a good Christian, asks them: “What shall we do?” — “Let’s give him something, mom…” – “Ok”. She takes her fork and knife and cuts the cutlets in half. “Ah no, mom, no! Not like this! Take something from the fridge” — “No! Let’s make three sandwiches with this!”. The children learned that true charity is given, not with what is left over, but with what we need. That afternoon I am sure that the children were a bit hungry.... But this is how it’s done!

Faced with the needs of our neighbours, we are called — like these children and the halved cutlets — to deprive ourselves of essential things, not only the superfluous; we are called to give the time that is necessary, not only what is extra; we are called to give immediately and unconditionally some of our talent, not after using it for our own purposes or for our own group.

Let us ask the Lord to admit us to the school of this poor widow, whom Jesus places in the cathedra and presents as a teacher of the living Gospel even to the astonishment of the disciples. Through the intercession of Mary, the poor woman who gave her entire life to God for us, let us ask for a heart that is poor, but rich in glad and freely given generosity.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 8 November 2015]

(Mk 12:35-37)

«And the large crowd listened to him gladly» (v.37). For what reason, despite the dangerous contention with the acknowledged teachers?

The scribes claimed that the Messiah was an exceptionally remarkable man, but not endowed with divine status.

It was necessary to go deeper into the common idea about the ancient Promises.

So the new Rabbi asks the official experts why king David calls him «Lord» - if he was only supposed to be his 'son'.

Everyone admitted that the Messiah would be a descendant of the prestigious ruler.

Yet, for the Master, the blood bond or the imperial dream do not exhaust the identity of the Coming One; far from it, they deflect it.

Within this horizon, we too are called to thoroughly reconsider the Person of Christ.

He is not reducible to congenial proportions - suited to a mentality, or to its external expectations.

In the divine condition that is fullness of humanization, the Risen One does not meet expectations: he exceeds them.

He is not 'son', but Lord of David - and of the soul.

The hoped-for Emmanuel - God With Us - cannot be a catalogued one.

In short, He alone gives divine meaning and depth to all that is man's [of all and every one].

By personal Faith, it is in the horizon of another - alternative - realm that hardships, sufferings and detachments make us grow.

And they can be part of a plan of Mystery that flows into Light.

Our destiny and eminent task do not at all have measures akin to framed, all-too-trivial convictions.

Only by allowing ourselves to be moulded by the all-round journey in Christ do hardships and difficulties not become enemies.

The particular pains we experience are perhaps a sign of our unfulfilled talents.

Unusual resources that we have not listened to and not yet cradled, to which we have not given space.

Encountered, recognised, integrated, invested in an unprecedented way and even different from normal or other people's intentions, these dormant energies will lead to an integral expansion of ideas and horizons, of soul and gestures.

In this way, Mystery and uncommon adventure are needed.

So when weaknesses, hardships, and even discomforts should arise, we know that they do not come to punish or chastise us, but to remind us of a fundamental side.

This, in order to make memorial-factum of an aspect of deep character, and future; archetypal and missional.

To actualize how much of ourselves we have perhaps not yet realized and brought to awareness, because overwhelmed by precisely external factors.

In spite of the gilded cage of artificial certainties all around, and comfortable routines laces, we would miss the Magic, the surprise that makes the heart leap, the decisive Encounter.

A new teaching, even for the Temple.

[Friday 9th wk. in O.T.  June 5, 2026]

Today I would like to end my catechesis on the prayer of the Book of Psalms by meditating on one of the most famous of the “royal Psalms”, a Psalm that Jesus himself cited and that the New Testament authors referred to extensively and interpreted as referring to the Messiah, to Christ. It is Psalm 110 according to the Hebrew tradition, 109 according to the Graeco-Latin one, a Psalm very dear to the ancient Church and to believers of all times. This prayer may at first have been linked to the enthronement of a Davidic king; yet its meaning exceeds the specific contingency of an historic event, opening to broader dimensions and thereby becoming a celebration of the victorious Messiah, glorified at God’s right hand.

The Psalm begins with a solemn declaration: “the Lord says to my lord ‘Sit at my right hand, till I make your enemies your footstool’” (v. 1). 

God himself enthrones the king in glory, seating him at his right, a sign of very great honour and of absolute privilege. The king is thus admitted to sharing in the divine kingship, of which he is mediator to the people. The king’s kingship is also brought into being in the victory over his adversaries whom God himself places at his feet. The victory over his enemies is the Lord’s, but the king is enabled to share in it and his triumph becomes a sign and testimony of divine power.

The royal glorification expressed at the beginning of the Psalm was adopted by the New Testament as a messianic prophecy. For this reason the verse is among those most frequently used by New Testament authors, either as an explicit quotation or as an allusion. With regard to the Messiah Jesus himself mentioned this verse in order to show that the Messiah, was greater than David, that he was David’s Lord (cf. Mt 22:41-45; Mk 12:35-37; Lk 20:41-44).

And Peter returned to it in his discourse at Pentecost, proclaiming that this enthronement of the king was brought about in the resurrection of Christ and that Christ was henceforth seated at the right hand of the Father, sharing in God’s kingship over the world (cf. Acts 2:29-35). Indeed, Christ is the enthroned Lord, the Son of Man seated at the right hand of God and coming on the clouds of heaven, as Jesus described himself during the trial before the Synedrin (cf. Mt 26:63-64; Mk 14:61-62; cf. also Lk 22:66-69). 

He is the true King who, with the Resurrection, entered into glory at the right hand of the Father (Rom 8:34; Eph 2:5; Col 3:1; Heb 8:1; 12:2), was made superior to angels, and seated in heaven above every power with every adversary at his feet, until the time when the last enemy, death, to be defeated by him once and for all (cf. 1 Cor 15:24-26; Eph 1:20-23; Heb 1:3-4; 2:5-8; 10:12-13; 1 Pet 3:22).

And we immediately understand that this king, seated at the right hand of God, who shares in his kingship is not one of those who succeeded David, but is actually the new David, the Son of God who triumphed over death and truly shares in God’s glory. He is our king, who also gives us eternal life.

Hence an indissoluble relationship exists between the king celebrated by our Psalm and God. The two of them govern together as one, so that the Psalmist can say that it is God himself who extends the sovereign’s sceptre, giving him the task of ruling over his adversaries as verse 2 says: “The Lord sends forth from Zion your mighty sceptre. Rule in the midst of your foes!”. 

The exercise of power is an office that the king receives directly from the Lord, a responsibility which he must exercise in dependence and obedience, thereby becoming a sign, within the people, of God’s powerful and provident presence. Dominion over his foes, glory and victory are gifts received that make the sovereign a mediator of the Lord’s triumph over evil. He subjugates his enemies, transforming them, he wins them over with his love.

For this reason the king’s greatness is celebrated in the following verse. In fact the interpretation of verse 3 presents some difficulty. In the original Hebrew text a reference was made to the mustering of the army to which the people generously responded, gathering round their sovereign on the day of his coronation. The Greek translation of The Septuagint that dates back to between the second and third centuries B.C. refers however to the divine sonship of the king, to his birth or begetting on the part of the Lord. This is the interpretation that has been chosen by the Church, which is why the verse reads like this: “Yours is princely power in the day of your birth, in holy splendour; before the daystar, like the dew, I have begotten you”. 

This divine oracle concerning the king would thus assert a divine procreation, steeped in splendour and mystery, a secret and inscrutable origin linked to the arcane beauty of dawn and to the miracle of dew that sparkles in the fields in the early morning light and makes them fertile. In this way, the figure of the king, indissolubly bound to the heavenly reality, who really comes from God is outlined, the Messiah who brings divine life to the people and is the mediator of holiness and salvation. Here too we see that all this is not achieved by the figure of a Davidic king but by the Lord Jesus Christ, who really comes from God; he is the light that brings divine life to the world.

The first stanza of the Psalm ends with this evocative and enigmatic image. It is followed by another oracle, which unfolds a new perspective along the lines of a priestly dimension connected with kingship. Verse 4 says: “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek”.

Melchizedek was the priest-king of Salem who had blessed Abraham and offered him bread and wine after the victorious military campaign the patriarch led to rescue his nephew Lot from the hands of enemies who had captured him (cf. Gen 14). 

Royal and priestly power converge in the figure of Melchizedek. They are then proclaimed by the Lord in a declaration that promises eternity: the king celebrated in the Psalm will be a priest for ever, the mediator of the Lord’s presence among his people, the intermediary of the blessing that comes from God who, in liturgical action, responds to it with the human answer of blessing. 

The Letter to the Hebrews makes an explicit reference to this verse (cf. 5:5-6, 10; 6:19-20) focusing on it the whole of chapter seven and developing its reflection on Christ’s priesthood. Jesus, as the Letter to the Hebrews tells us in the light of Psalm 110[109], is the true and definitive priest who brings to fulfilment and perfects the features of Melchizedek’s priesthood

Melchizedek, as the Letter to the Hebrews says, was “without father or mother or genealogy” (7:3a), hence not a priest according to the dynastic rules of Levitical priesthood. Consequently he “continues a priest for ever” (7:3c), a prefiguration of Christ, the perfect High Priest who “has become a priest, not according to a legal requirement concerning bodily descent but by the power of an indestructible life” (7:16). 

In the Risen Lord Jesus who had ascended into Heaven where he is seated at the right hand of the Father the prophecy of our Psalm is fulfilled and the priesthood of Melchizedek is brought to completion. This is because, rendered absolute and eternal, it became a reality that never fades (cf. 7:24). And the offering of bread and wine made by Melchizedek in Abraham’s time is fulfilled in the Eucharistic action of Jesus who offers himself in the bread and in the wine and, having conquered death, brings life to all believers. Since he is an eternal priest, “holy, blameless, unstained” (7:26), as the Letter to the Hebrews states further, “he is able for all time to save those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them” (7:25).

After this divine pronouncement in verse 4, with its solemn oath, the scene of the Psalm changes and the poet, addressing the king directly, proclaims: “The Lord is at your right hand” (Psalm 110:5a). If in verse 1 it was the king who was seated at God’s right hand as a sign of supreme prestige and honour, the Lord now takes his place at the right of the sovereign to protect him with this shield in battle and save him from every peril. The king was safe, God is his champion and they fight together and defeat every evil.

Thus the last verses of the Psalm open with the vision of the triumphant sovereign. Supported by the Lord, having received both power and glory from him (cf. v. 2), he opposes his foes, crushing his adversaries and judging the nations. The scene is painted in strong colours to signify the drama of the battle and the totality of the royal victory. The sovereign, protected by the Lord, demolishes every obstacle and moves ahead safely to victory. He tells us: “yes, there is widespread evil in the world, there is an ongoing battle between good and evil and it seems as though evil were the stronger. No, the Lord is stronger, Christ, our true King and Priest, for he fights with all God’s power and in spite of all the things that make us doubt the positive outcome of history, Christ wins and good wins, love wins rather than hatred.

The evocative image that concludes our Psalm fits in here; it is also an enigmatic word: “He will drink from the brook by the way; therefore he will lift up his head” (v. 7).

The king’s figure stands out in the middle of the description of the battle. At a moment of respite and rest, he quenches his thirst at a stream, finding in it refreshment and fresh strength to continue on his triumphant way, holding his head high as a sign of definitive victory. It is clear that these deeply enigmatic words were a challenge for the Fathers of the Church because of the different interpretations they could be given. 

Thus, for example, St Augustine said: this brook is the onward flow of the human being, of humanity, and Christ did not disdain to drink of this brook, becoming man; and so it was that on entering the humanity of the human being he lifted up his head and is now the Head of the mystical Body, he is our head, he is the definitive winner. (cf. Enarrationes in Psalmos CIX, 20: PL36, 1462). 

Dear friends, following the lines of the New Testament translation, the Church’s Tradition has held this Psalm in high esteem as one of the most important messianic texts. And the Fathers continued eminently to refer to it in a Christological key. The king of whom the Psalmist sang is definitively Christ, the Messiah who establishes the Kingdom of God and overcomes the powers of evil. He is the Word, begotten by the Father before every creature, before the dawn, the Son incarnate who died and rose and is seated in Heaven, the eternal priest who through the mystery of the bread and wine bestows forgiveness of sins and gives reconciliation with God, the king who lifts up his head, triumphing over death with his resurrection.

It would suffice to remember a passage, once again in St Augustine’s commentary on this Psalm, where he writes: “it was necessary to know the Only-Begotten Son of God who was about to come among men, to adopt man and to become a man by taking on his nature; he died, rose and ascended into Heaven, he is seated at the right hand of the Father and fulfilled among the people all that he had promised.... All this, therefore, had to be prophesied, it had to be foretold, to be pointed out as destined to come about, so that by coming unexpectedly it would not give rise to fear but by having been foretold, would then be accepted with faith, joy and expectation. This Psalm fits into the context of these promises. It prophesies our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ in such reliable and explicit terms that we cannot have the slightest doubt that it is really Christ who is proclaimed in it” (cf. Enarrationes in Psalmos CIX, 3: PL 36, 1447).

The paschal event of Christ thus becomes the reality to which the Psalm invites us to look, to look at Christ to understand the meaning of true kingship, to live in service and in the gift of self, in a journey of obedience and love “to the end” (cf. Jn 13:1 and 19:30). 

[Papa Benedetto, Udienza Generale 16 novembre 2011]

Christ ascended the cross as a unique King: as the eternal witness to the truth. “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world: to bear witness to the truth” (Jn 18:37). This witness is the measure of our deeds. The measure of life. The truth for which Christ gave his life – which he confirmed through the Resurrection – is the fundamental source of human dignity. Christ’s kingdom is manifested, as the Council teaches, in the “kingship” of man. We must know, in this light, how to participate in every sphere of contemporary life and to shape it. Indeed, in our times, there is no shortage of proposals addressed to man, nor of programmes invoked for his good. May we know how to re-examine them in the light of the full truth about man, the truth confirmed by the words and the cross of Christ!

May we know how to discern them well! Is what they declare expressed in accordance with the measure of man’s true dignity? Does the freedom they proclaim serve the kingly dignity of the being created in God’s image, or, on the contrary, does it pave the way for its deprivation or constraint? For example: do marital infidelity—even if sanctioned by divorce—or the lack of responsibility for conceived life—even if modern technology teaches how to dispose of it—serve man’s true freedom or express his dignity? Certainly, all moral permissiveness is not based on human dignity and does not educate man in it.

[Pope John Paul II, 25 November 1979]

[…] His is a kingship of guidance, of service and also a kingship which at the end of time will be fulfilled as judgment. Today, we have Christ before us as King, shepherd and judge, who reveals the criteria for belonging to the Kingdom of God. Here are the criteria.

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

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

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

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

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 26 November 2017]

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity (year A)  [31 May 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (34:4–6, 8–9)

The text presents one of the most precious moments of biblical revelation: God speaks of himself and proclaims his name before Moses, who prostrates himself in recognition of the greatness of what he hears. God defines himself as ‘the Lord (YHWH), a God who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in love and faithfulness. This name, already revealed in the burning bush, is the foundation of Israel’s faith. Even then, God had shown his face: he sees the misery of his people in Egypt, hears their cry, knows their sufferings and comes down to set them free, inspiring Moses with the necessary strength. This means that man is never alone in his trials: God is present, accompanying and sustaining him. The Jewish Passover commemorates this liberating intervention every year. In today’s text, however, a further step is taken: God does not merely feel compassion, but loves deeply. His ‘passing’ before Moses recalls the passage during the Exodus: whenever God passes by, he sets free. This second revelation is even more important because it frees man from false images of God. It is not man who has invented a good God: it is God himself who has revealed himself in this way, unexpectedly. Moses fully understands the meaning of ‘slow to anger’ and asks forgiveness for the people, aware of their unfaithfulness. Israel is described as a “stiff-necked people”, an image drawn from the agricultural yoke: just as animals resist the yoke, so the people struggle to walk in step with God in the covenant. Despite this, Moses trusts that God will continue to forgive and keep the people as his inheritance. Finally, God’s faithfulness (“truth”) remains the foundation of hope: He does not abandon His people nor forget the covenant. For this reason, Israel remains the chosen people and, as the New Testament also reminds us, God remains ever faithful, even when man is unfaithful.

Responsorial Psalm: Song of Daniel (3:52–56)

To understand the Book of Daniel, we can use a modern comparison: in the 1980s, during Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia, a young actress staged a play about Joan of Arc. On the surface, it spoke of 15th-century France, but between the lines the message was clear: like Joan, the Czech people too could resist oppression. Similarly, the Book of Daniel, written in the 2nd century BC during the persecution by the Greek king Antiochus IV Epiphanes, is a text of resistance. It tells stories set in an earlier era, under the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar, but in reality it speaks of the author’s contemporary situation. Its aim is to encourage the faithful to remain steadfast, even unto martyrdom. A central episode is that of the three young men, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, condemned to be burned alive for refusing to worship a statue. Thrown into a blazing furnace, they are miraculously saved: the flames kill their executioners, whilst they walk unharmed through the fire, praising God. The greatest miracle, however, is their faith: they acknowledge the sins of the people and humbly entrust themselves to God’s mercy. In their song they proclaim: “Blessed are you, Lord, God of our fathers”. It is a reference to the covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Israel, to the divine promises and the history of salvation, but also to God’s continual forgiveness despite the people’s unfaithfulness. When speaking of God’s “Name”, God himself is referred to with respect. The reference to the “holy temple” reflects the historical context of persecution: even when worship is desecrated, it is affirmed that God alone is the true Lord. The images of the throne and the cherubim recall the Holy of Holies in the Temple, a sign of God’s presence among his people. This is a message of hope: even in the harshest trials, God is present and evil will not have the last word. The hymn thus becomes a song of trust and victory: despite violence and persecution, faith remains steadfast. This message of resilience and hope remains relevant even today.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (13:11–13)

The final sentence: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all”, is the formula with which the Eucharistic celebration begins, and this is no coincidence: St Paul concludes his Second Letter to the Corinthians in this way, summarising God’s entire plan. This expression, spoken by the celebrant in the name of God, indicates that God invites humanity to enter into his intimacy, that is, into the communion of love of the Trinity. “Grace”, “love” and “communion” express the same reality: the Trinitarian life of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The subjunctive verb “may be with you” does not indicate any doubt about God, who is always the source of forgiveness, blessing and presence, but rather points to human freedom: God continually offers his love, but man is free to accept or reject it. This clear expression of the Trinity is rare in the Bible and marks the fulfilment of revelation in Jesus Christ. From this spring Paul’s exhortations, beginning with joy: “Brothers and sisters, rejoice.” In the Bible, joy is linked to the experience of liberation, such as at the end of a war or the return from exile, when the people experience God’s salvation. These liberations that occur in history foreshadow the definitive joy promised by God, that of a new creation. Jesus himself speaks of this full and definitive joy at the end of his discourse at the Last Supper: “Take heart, I have overcome the world”, and promises a joy that no one can take away, even through trials. Paul’s second exhortation concerns unity and peace: “Be of one mind… live in peace”. Unity among believers is essential, for it is God’s witness to the world and echoes Jesus’ prayer: “May they be one.” Paul insists on one faith, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all. This communion is also expressed in the liturgical gesture of the kiss of peace, already present in the early Christian communities. Ancient testimonies, such as those of Saint Justin and Saint Hippolytus, show how this gesture was an integral part of the celebration, a concrete sign of unity and brotherhood.

From the Gospel of John (3:16–18)

‘God so loved the world that he gave his only Son’: this sentence expresses the great transition from the Old to the New Testament. That God loves humanity was already known, and was Israel’s great discovery; the novelty lies in the gift of the Son for the salvation of all. God so loved the world… that whoever believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life. According to the Gospel of John, it is enough to believe to be saved: whoever receives Christ becomes a child of God and already possesses eternal life. This “eternal life” is the life of the Spirit received at Baptism: it is true salvation, that is, living in peace with oneself and with others, as brothers and sisters amongst men and children of God. To be saved, one need only turn to Jesus, allow oneself to be transformed by him, and pass from a heart of stone to a heart of flesh. In biblical language: “to lift one’s gaze towards him”. It is extraordinary news, if taken seriously, for in the face of the Crucified One the true face of God is revealed. In the face of the crucified Christ, who freely gives his life, humanity discovers the true face of God: not a domineering or vengeful God, but a God who is love and mercy. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” says Jesus. All that is required is faith: to believe in God who saves in order to be saved. In the Gospels, in fact, Jesus often repeats: “Your faith has saved you.” The evangelist John links this mystery to Zechariah’s prophecy: looking upon the one who has been pierced leads to conversion and purification. This vision also recurs in Revelation: all will see the one whom they have pierced. The expression ‘only Son’ indicates that Jesus is the fullness of grace and truth, the sole source of eternal life and the head of the new humanity. God’s plan is for all humanity to be united in Christ and to share in the life of the Trinity: this is salvation, true life, already present from this moment onwards. Eternal life is to know you, the one true God, and the one you have sent, Jesus Christ: to know God means to recognise him as mercy and to enter into a profound relationship with him, in accordance with the meaning that ‘to know’ holds in St John. ‘Avoiding judgement’ means avoiding separation from God: it is enough to believe in his forgiveness. As in human relationships, if one believes in forgiveness, one can return and be reconciled; if one does not believe, one remains trapped in one’s own error. So it is with God. God offers salvation, but does not impose it, and man remains always free. Those who believe are saved; those who reject faith exclude themselves. This is shown in an extraordinary way by the good thief when he turns to Jesus, who is crucified alongside him. Despite having lived a life of sin, at the very last moment before dying he entrusts himself to Jesus and receives a surprising promise: ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise.’

+Giovanni D’Ercole