32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [8 November 2026]

*First Reading from the Book of Wisdom (6:12–16) 

The Book of Wisdom presents Wisdom not merely as a quality of the intellect, but as a radiant presence that offers itself to humankind and leads it to the truth. It is not enough simply to be intelligent or to accumulate knowledge: one must have a heart willing to seek, to listen and to allow oneself to be transformed. Today’s reading is divided into three sections: Wisdom is luminous and never sets (v. 12), and so it allows itself to be contemplated by those who love it. Wisdom takes the initiative (vv. 13–14) and goes out to meet those who desire her, making herself known to those who seek her. Wisdom, in turn, seeks out humankind (vv. 15–16) and reaches those who rise early to seek her, meeting them with kindness. It is important to note this reciprocity: man seeks Wisdom, and Wisdom, in a sense, seeks man. The spiritual quest is not merely a human endeavour but also a response to a call that precedes it. Wisdom is light that enables one to see things as they are and thus to understand their meaning. Even if one possesses a great deal of information, one may still not know which direction to give to one’s life; one may know the means, but be unaware of the end; one may be skilled in action, but ill-equipped to discern what is truly good. Wisdom, on the other hand, is ‘unfailing’: it does not run out, does not lose its value, and is not rendered obsolete by passing fashions. In the context of the book, written within a Hellenistic Jewish milieu, probably in Alexandria in Egypt between the 1st century BC and the beginning of the 1st century AD, Wisdom is God’s gift that guides humankind in righteousness and faithfulness. It is not knowledge reserved for a select few initiates, but a light capable of providing practical guidance for life because True wisdom does not consist in knowing everything, but in seeing life in the light of God. Those who love the truth are willing to listen even to what challenges their own convictions, and if they seek it sincerely, they are willing to change course when they discover they were mistaken. The verb ‘to contemplate’ does not imply a hurried glance, but an attentiveness capable of pausing and receiving. Wisdom therefore requires a heart free from the presumption of already possessing all the answers. We live in a society where information is accessible at all times, but reflection is often sacrificed to speed; we know how to look for an answer on a screen, but it is harder to find the silence needed to understand whether that answer truly makes us more human. ‘Anticipating those who desire her, she appears to them first’ (v. 13): here one of the deepest insights of this text emerges. Wisdom precedes human seeking because God does not remain passively waiting for humankind to reach him through its own efforts; rather, it is his Wisdom that draws near and reveals itself to those willing to receive it—even though the divine initiative does not eliminate human freedom, but rather stirs it to life and sustains it. It is a fundamental principle of the spiritual life: even before a person seeks God, God has already opened a path for them to encounter him. This perspective frees us from two opposing errors: the presumption of being able to win God over by our own abilities, and the discouragement of those who think that God is too distant or unattainable. How, then, do we encounter Wisdom?  In prayer, in the Word of God, in discernment, in a rightly formed conscience, in listening to another person, and even in a trial endured with faith. The problem is not a lack of time, but the way in which we organise our time; and the question this raises is: what place does the search for God occupy in my daily life? Wisdom reaches us in our everyday lives, in our decisions and in our thoughts; it is not a theory separate from existence: it illuminates the way we act, love, govern and relate to others. Finally, for the Christian, Wisdom finds its fulfilment in Christ, whom Saint Paul proclaims to be ‘the power of God and the wisdom of God’ (1 Cor 1:24). In Jesus, divine Wisdom offers more than just a teaching: it draws near to humankind, shares in our human condition and shows us the way of love. We thus see a dynamic at work that runs through the whole of the spiritual life: desiring, seeking, encountering, allowing oneself to be guided. Desire opens the heart; seeking makes it persevering; the encounter enlightens it; and welcoming Wisdom transforms our daily choices. We may conclude with three simple questions: Am I truly seeking God’s Wisdom, or am I primarily seeking confirmation of my own ideas? What concrete space do I set aside each day for silence, prayer and listening? Do the decisions I make demonstrate greater wisdom—that is, greater truth, justice and love? In short: it is not the person who knows many things who is wise, but the one who learns to see their own life in the light of God.  If one lives in this way, one does not walk alone and, whilst seeking Wisdom, one realises that Wisdom itself has already come to meet one.  

*Responsorial Psalm (62/63) 

Psalm 62 in the Catholic liturgical numbering (63 in the Hebrew numbering and in many modern Bibles) is the song of a person who, even in solitude and trial, discovers that God is more necessary than life itself, for He is the source that gives meaning to life. It is therefore not merely the prayer of one in need of help, but the prayer of one who has discovered that no created reality can fully quench the thirst of the human heart. The biblical title links it to David whilst he was in the wilderness of Judah. We cannot identify the historical episode with certainty, but the image of the wilderness is fundamental to understanding its message. The desert is a real place, arid and arduous, but it also becomes a symbol of a spiritual condition: when certainties fade and one experiences the desert of the heart, one is led back to the essential questions. From this perspective, we discern four themes in the psalm: The thirst for God (vv. 2–3): the soul seeks the Lord as parched land seeks water. The soul praises him and remembers him (vv. 4–6): God’s love is worth more than life itself and becomes a source of blessing. Communion in the night (vv. 7–9): the believer remembers God even during the darkest hours and finds refuge in his presence. Trust in divine justice (vv. 10–12): evil will not have the last word, and the Lord will protect those who entrust themselves to him. The focus of the psalm is therefore not the desert, but the presence of God discovered precisely in the desert. The prayer begins with a personal declaration: ‘You are my God’. The psalmist does not speak first and foremost of what God can give him, but of who God is to him, and this reminds us that relationship comes before the request; belonging comes before need. The expression ‘from the dawn’ indicates the intensity of the search, and the believer begins the day by turning to the One who is its very foundation. May God always be the first inner reference point with which we face decisions, relationships and difficulties. A brief prayer upon waking may not necessarily change the events of the day, but it can change the way in which we experience them. ‘My soul thirsts for you; my body longs for you’ (v. 2). Thirst is one of the most powerful biblical images of the longing for God, and the psalmist does not simply say that he thinks of God, but affirms that he thirsts for him. Contemporary society offers many opportunities for immediate gratification: consumption, entertainment, visibility, virtual relationships; yet our longing can remain unfulfilled even when we have many things. Not every desire is a conscious thirst for God, but the deepest longings — to be loved, to find meaning, not to be alone, to hope beyond death — can become a path to recognising this thirst. Just as the earth without water cannot produce life on its own, so the believer recognises that they are not self-sufficient, and biblical prayer reminds us that recognising one’s own thirst is the beginning of wisdom. Those who believe themselves to be self-sufficient risk seeking nothing more; those who recognise their own poverty can open themselves up to relationship, to grace and to the help of others. 

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Thessalonians (4:13–18)  

Paul writes to a young community, that of Thessalonica, in which some Christians had died before Christ’s glorious return.  The believers wonder what will happen to those who have died and whether they will lose their share in final salvation. The Apostle does not respond with a purely theoretical explanation of the afterlife, but proclaims the heart of the Christian faith: death does not have the final say, because Jesus died and rose again. The hope of Christians springs from Christ’s Resurrection, and Paul wishes that Christians should not be in the dark about the fate of the departed. In the Greek text, he uses the expression hoi koimōmenoi, that is, ‘those who have fallen asleep’, and the imagery of sleep is a metaphor which, in the light of the Resurrection, expresses the temporary nature of death: just as sleep awaits awakening, so the believer awaits the Resurrection. In ancient culture, death was often experienced as a definitive separation and a cause for despair. Paul does not deny the pain of separation, but he wishes to spare Christians from despair. Even today, death can be repressed, hidden away in hospitals or regarded as a failure to be avoided at all costs; or it can become a reality that paralyses those left behind. Faith does not ask us not to weep: it teaches us to weep without losing hope. Indeed, Paul does not set Christians in opposition to those who suffer, as if faith made them insensitive. Jesus himself wept at Lazarus’s tomb (John 11:35). The difference does not lie in the absence of sadness, but in the presence of a hope that transcends the pain. Hope does not simply mean a wish that things will turn out well, but a trust grounded in God’s work. A Christian may suffer deeply at the loss of a loved one. Their faith does not erase the void left by that person’s absence, but enables them to live with that void within a greater relationship: communion in Christ, which death cannot destroy. Jesus died and rose again: this is the foundation of the entire passage. The Christian faith is not based primarily on the idea that the soul is immortal, nor on a vague belief that something exists after death. Its centre is an event: God raised Jesus from the dead. The verb ‘will gather’ evokes God’s saving action: He does not abandon His children to the dispersion of death, but leads them into communion with Christ; and His resurrection is the guarantee of our hope: what God has accomplished in Him foreshadows the destiny of those who belong to Him. The fundamental question is not merely: ‘What lies beyond death?’, but rather: ‘Who awaits us beyond death?’ For the Christian, the ultimate future is neither nothingness nor an impersonal force: it is Christ, the Lord who died and rose again, who calls us into communion with himself. The Christians of Thessalonica were eagerly awaiting Christ’s return, his parousia, his glorious coming, and some feared that those who had died before that event might be at a disadvantage. Paul makes it clear that this will not be the case. The dead will not be forgotten or excluded. The destiny of Christians does not depend on whether they are alive or dead at the time of the Lord’s coming. It is important to note that Paul speaks within the context of the Christian expectation of the end times, but he does not give a precise date nor does he authorise anyone to determine when Christ’s return will take place. God does not judge human life by its success, its duration or the possibility of being present at a particular historical event. Even those who die seemingly too soon remain in the Lord’s hands. This truth is particularly comforting in the face of the death of children, young people and those who seemed to have so much left to achieve. Paul also describes the Lord’s coming using apocalyptic imagery: a solemn command, the voice of the archangel, the divine trumpet. We need not necessarily interpret these elements as a foretold account of material events. Apocalyptic language uses powerful imagery to proclaim a theological certainty: history is not abandoned to chaos; the Lord will come to fulfil his work of salvation. In the Old Testament, the trumpet was used to summon the people, announce a divine manifestation or accompany a decisive event. ‘And so we shall always be with the Lord’ (v. 17): this is the culminating phrase of the passage. All the preceding images lead to this promise. The ultimate goal of salvation is not simply to continue to exist, nor to know the secrets of the afterlife: it is to be with the Lord for ever. Eternal life is full communion with Christ, the fulfilment of the relationship begun in faith, nourished by the Word and the sacraments, and lived out in charity. And Christian hope is not merely a desire to reach a place called paradise: it is a longing to live eternally with the One we have learnt to love. ‘Therefore comfort one another with these words’ (v. 18). Paul concludes with a communal imperative: ‘comfort one another’. The hope of the resurrection is not a truth to be treasured solely as an individual: it is a gift to be shared. The Christian community is called to support those who are grieving, to accompany the dying, and to remember the departed in prayer. Christian consolation does not consist in uttering facile phrases in the face of grief, but in bearing witness to a hope that springs from Christ. When faced with someone who has lost a loved one, it is sometimes better not to seek immediate explanations; first and foremost, we must simply be there, listen, share in the silence, and pray. Hope becomes credible when it is expressed through concrete acts of closeness. 

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (25:1–3) 

This passage forms part of Jesus’ great eschatological discourse (Mt 24–25) and is one of the parables on Christian vigilance and the expectation of the Lord. Jesus invites his disciples to live not simply by waiting for the end, but by keeping their hearts ready for the encounter with him. The ten virgins are young women attending a wedding feast and, according to custom, they accompanied the bride or waited for the bridegroom to join the wedding procession and accompany him to the feast. The figure of the bridegroom evokes an important biblical symbolism: God is the Bridegroom of his people. In Hosea, God promises: ‘I will make you my bride for ever’ (2:21–22); in Isaiah: ‘As the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you’ (62:5). Jesus himself presents himself as the Bridegroom (Mt 9:15). Therefore, in the parable, the bridegroom is Christ and the wedding feast represents the definitive communion with him. The Christian life is not merely a matter of observing precepts: it is a waiting for a person, Christ, who comes to meet us. Of the ten virgins, five are wise and five are foolish. The Greek text uses two very significant words: Phrónimoi (φρόνιμοι): wise, prudent, capable of discernment; mōraí (μωραί): foolish, senseless, lacking in discernment. This is not an intellectual difference, but a spiritual one. The ten virgins all share certain characteristics: they have all received the invitation to the feast; they all possess a lamp; they all go out to meet the bridegroom; they all fall asleep when the bridegroom is delayed. The difference, therefore, does not lie in the invitation received, the lamp possessed or the ability to stay awake. The difference lies in their preparation. The wise ones also bring oil with them, whilst the foolish ones take only their lamps, and here we find the first fundamental lesson: it is not enough to have a lamp; one must have oil to keep it burning. The lamp may represent the faith received, the Christian vocation, or the outwardly religious life, whilst the oil represents what nourishes faith from within: charity, perseverance, prayer, daily fidelity and a living communion with God. It is important to note that the text does not explicitly identify the oil with a single reality. Christian spiritual tradition has seen in it, above all, charity and the inner life nourished by grace. Furthermore, the bridegroom’s delay is a test of time: ‘Since the bridegroom was delayed, they all dozed off and fell asleep’. This is one of the most human expressions in the parable because even the wise virgins fall asleep, and Jesus makes no distinction between those who know no weariness and those who do. If everyone experiences human frailty, the problem is not falling asleep, but being unprepared when the moment of the encounter arrives. The bridegroom’s delay evokes the course of history, in which the Lord sometimes seems absent or distant; it is a time of trial, of perseverance, of faith that does not immediately see results. How often do we too ask ourselves: Why is God slow to intervene? Why does my prayer seem to go unheard? Why does goodness seem to be losing ground? Why does the Lord seem to remain silent? The parable teaches that God’s apparent delay must not become a reason for abandoning the faith, and that true wisdom lies in preparing oneself for even a long wait, without allowing the lamp to go out. ‘At midnight there was a cry: “Here is the bridegroom! Go out to meet him!”’ Midnight is the darkest hour of the night. Symbolically, it may represent the moment when we least expect the Lord’s arrival, and a sudden cry interrupts our sleep and confronts us all with the decisive reality: the bridegroom has arrived. It is interesting to note that the Greek text reads: “Idou ho nymphíos! (Ἰδοὺ ὁ νυμφίος!) ‘Behold, the bridegroom!’”, not ‘behold the judge’, or the master, or indeed the one who comes to call us to account. The bridegroom is coming! The coming of Christ is, first and foremost, an encounter with the One who loves us and desires to unite us to himself. However, this encounter has a decisive dimension: one cannot improvise one’s relationship with God at the last moment. Oil cannot be lent out, and when the foolish virgins plead with the wise ones, the reply may seem harsh: ‘No, lest we and you run out.’ This is not a matter of selfishness, nor is it that Jesus wishes to teach us not to share; for the meaning is spiritually much deeper. There are things we can share and things that no one can experience in our place. No one can believe in our place; love God in our place; be converted in our place; live out their own faithfulness in our place; or build a personal relationship with Christ in our place. A priest can accompany a soul, a parent can bring up a child, a friend can support another friend, but no one can take the place of the personal response that each of us must give to God. Faith can be passed on, but the personal relationship with Christ must be lived out by each individual. The foolish virgins therefore return when the door is already shut and cry out: ‘Lord, Lord, open to us!’; the bridegroom replies: ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ It is one of the most powerful expressions in the Gospel. The Greek verb is oida (οἶδα), ‘to know’. And in the Bible, ‘to know’ does not simply mean possessing information about someone, but entering into a personal relationship; it is not enough to know Jesus intellectually, to speak of Him, to carry out a ministry or to take part in celebrations. One must belong to Him, live with Him and allow oneself to be transformed by His love. Jesus had said: ‘Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord”, will enter the kingdom of heaven. The greatest danger is having an outward religiosity without true inner communion with Christ, and the closed door invites us to reflect on life’s ultimate encounter with God. The time of preparation belongs to this present life: ‘Keep watch, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.’ In the conclusion lies the fundamental message of the parable. The Greek verb grēgoreîte (γρηγορεῖτε) means: stay awake, keep watch, remain alert; and this Gospel-inspired vigilance is neither fear of death nor anxiety about the future, but living each day with our sights set on Christ. We do not know when he will come, but we know how we must live whilst we await him. This parable teaches us that the Christian life cannot be improvised; it is not enough to have been baptised, to know the Gospel, to belong to the Church or to carry out a ministry, for we must nurture our relationship with Christ every day. The lamp is what is visible; the oil is what nourishes it and is the hidden life. The lamp may be admired by people, but the oil is known above all – and sometimes only – by God. We must not concern ourselves merely with having a lamp to show, but with possessing a heart that burns with love for Christ. Ultimately, the parable tells us that Christian wisdom consists in living each day in such a way as to be ready to welcome the Lord. Unfortunately, the tragedy is not that the night is long, but that, whilst we wait for the Bridegroom, we may allow the oil of love to run out.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Christian shrewdness: sense of duty and of the fair 'Master'

(Lk 16:1-8)

In «The death of Peregrinus» [De morte Peregrini, 13] the irreverent Lucian of Samosata, polemist of second century - expresses himself as follows towards Christians:

«Their first Legislator persuades them that they are all brothers among themselves, and, as they convert, denying the Greek Gods, they adore that “wise” Crucifix, and live according to his laws. For wich they despise all goods equally and believe them as common and do not care when they have them. Therefore if among them arose a shrewd impostor who knew how to handle them well, immediately he would become rich, mocking these gullible and silly people».

Even more so than private individuals, ecclesial society manages goods for itself that are common, sacred and not exclusive.

But a responsible, community leader [cf. v.14], is accused of taking advantage of his position as administrator of the goods of God and the church.

The Torah, the specific regulations and all the official customs of the ancient East prohibited asking for interest on supplies (or loans) of foodstuffs.

However, under the counter the landowners relied on blackmail. Withholding undue and lavish compensation, on transactions.

Then the "opportunist" puts the right evaluation into play: he recalculates and aligns accountings - renouncing the illicit income he had hoped to enjoy firsthand.

Although used to going head-on in society, the old man finally chooses not to continue stubbornly in scaming of the percentages in addition, which were not due to him.

He seizes the opportunity that presents itself on his way. This is the point that Lk emphasizes. And he promptly decides not to continue to corrupt himself and others: valid option.

He is therefore praised (v.8) because he realizes another possibility. And he does it with fair ‘cunning’, this time not random.

Spiritual Way has a raw crossroads: to ask oneself whether to start again in the style of accumulation-and-withhold, or to focus on the quality of relationships.

Excellent work of the Faith in ecclesial experience - and threshold of joy - is to transform resources into Life and Relationship.

In short, a spiritualism of sentimental character is not enough. We must heal the budgets and avoid the internal business groups [cf. v.14].

Justice and the universal destination of goods are not mere additions, the meaning of which can be blurred.

Once the truth has been restored, here is a beautiful method to «purify» even the unfair wealth: to use it for the recipients.

Despite mistakes that can be made - we may always impose on ourself a decisive turn.

In short, the fullness of the God’s Kingdom is realized through Encounter, and goods make sense as a possibility of human development (vv.9-13).

Therefore, spiritual guides must be the first witnesses of this social, humanizing and divine function.

They are called upon to dispose of common resources in a way that is neither cheerful nor carefree, but with a strong sense of responsibility - without any shadow.

[Friday 31st wk. in O.T.  November 6, 2026]

Christian shrewdness: sense of duty and of the fair 'Master'

(Lk 16:1-8)

We ask ourselves: is there another way of life, beyond the habit of asserting oneself in all circumstances? What is it that generates so much friction without rest or criterion, even in times of submission? What is the solution for building a common house? And the first concrete step for the future?

Luke speaks very clearly, chiselling a catechesis probably taken from a living experience that has marked the environment of believers.

In "The Death of Peregrinus" [De morte Peregrini, 13] the irreverent Lucian of Samosata - a polemicist of the 2nd century - expresses himself with regard to Christians as follows:

"Their first Lawgiver persuades them that they are all brothers among themselves, and as they convert, denying the Greek gods, they worship that wise Crucified One, and live according to his laws. For something they despise all goods equally and believe them to be common and do not care when they have them. Therefore if a shrewd impostor arose among them who knew how to handle them well, he would immediately become rich, mocking these gullible and foolish people".

Let us hypothesise the situation, probably referring to a veteran of the Judeo-Christian circle [considered in the Gospels to be that of the "Pharisees" returning to the assemblies of the early times] (cf. Lk 16:14).

A manager, a community leader [cf. v.14], is accused of profiting from the position of steward of God's and the church's property.

The Torah, specific regulations, and all the official customs of the ancient East forbade charging interest on supplies (or loans) of foodstuffs.

But in fact and under the table, landlords used blackmail. By withholding undue and lavish fees, on transactions.

The skimming rate depended on the ability to scrutinise needs and raise the interest rate - even on wheat, oil and staple food.

Even the church coordinator had allowed himself to be seduced by the current malpractice, for easy profit (on people's hunger).

Having turned a deaf ear for a long time, the scandal emerges (among leaders and groups bearing the Christian name!).

The leading man is cornered for a transparent accounting.

Then the 'pinched' man chooses to recalculate and align the accounts - renouncing the illicit income that he had fondly enjoyed himself.

Everything should have been put at the disposal of the faithful and the common good, without (uncontrolled - usual) scheming.

Although accustomed to going head over heels in society, the guy finally chooses not to stubbornly continue in the stubborn imbroglio of additional dues he was not entitled to.

The (God's) treasures are to be shared, without private mark-up - so he avoids grasping at straws, pirouetting, seeking the support of accomplices or gangs [cf. v.14] and groups of sharers.

He seizes the opportunity that comes his way. This is the point that Lk emphasises. And he promptly decides not to continue corrupting himself and others: a valid option.

Things are obvious and he does not advance the kind of explanations - as unfortunately happens - that chronicle and degenerate the situation.

He is therefore praised (v.8) because instead of going back to feeding himself and his tail... he notices another possibility.

There is an Elsewhere to be perceived, here; with foresighted inner tension and equitable 'shrewdness', this time not aleatory.

The Spiritual Path has a stark crossroads: to ask oneself whether to start again in the accumulation-and-retreat style, or to focus on the quality of relationships.

No more intimidation such as: "You don't know who I am"; "You don't know who and how many of us there are" - and attempts tacked on to the bottom line.

No more shenanigans to conceal and destructive subterfuges for the sake of cheerful administration: better to disfigure personally than to be an active and omerto accomplice of another 'god' (the one who gives orders opposite to the Father's advice).

The excellent work of Faith in Church experience - and the threshold of joy - is to transform resources into Life and Relationship.

This is our Guide for tomorrow and happiness, always.

Justice and the universal destination of goods are not mere additions to the devout goings-on, the meaning of which may be blurred - even where community appurtenances are the prerogative of those who have their hands and feet all over the place: cliques with good manners and bad habits.

There is another utility and functionality of the old uninhibited profits: not those of the liberal economy and private property, but of free friendship, which does not hold back - the ability to recreate balances where they are not; to cultivate equality and transparency, happiness and widespread life.

Sentimental spiritualism is not enough. Balances must be healed.Having re-established the truth, and without looking into the face of any primate, or 'fellow travellers' or pressure groups, here is a beautiful method to 'purify' even unequal wealth: use it for the recipients.

It is the only fair valuation, which annihilates malpractice and the strange competitions between dowry-less and upside-down poor who seem destined only to fry.

We are called upon to use 'our' energies and resources to expand everyone's existence, instead of continuing to peck and paw at each other to show who is in charge.

This is - despite the mistakes we may make - giving the decisive breakthrough, for a beautiful life.

In short, the fullness of the Kingdom of God is realised through encounter, and goods have meaning as a possibility for human development (cf. vv.9-13).

In the encyclical Fratelli Tutti we read in n.120:

"the Christian tradition has never recognised the right to private property as absolute or untouchable, and has emphasised the social function of any form of private property. The principle of the common use of goods created for all is the first principle of the whole social-ethical order, it is a natural right, original and overriding. All other rights to the goods necessary for the integral realisation of persons, including that of private property and any others, must therefore not stand in the way, but, on the contrary, facilitate its realisation [...] The right to private property can only be considered as a secondary natural right derived from the principle of the universal destination of created goods, and this has very concrete consequences, which must be reflected in the functioning of society. It frequently happens, however, that secondary rights are placed above primary and original rights, depriving them of practical relevance'.

This right-base is without frontiers, and the same applies to the functioning of church society - neither co-opted nor concealed.

Even more so than private individuals, it is accountable without tricks: it manages goods that are in themselves common, varied, sacred and not exclusive.

Church leaders are the first to overcome the one-sidedness of the role and resources, let alone manage them as if they were selective property or reserved clubs.

Therefore, spiritual leaders must be the first witnesses of this social, humanising and divine function.

They are called upon to dispose of the resources to be 'broken' in a way that is not cheerful and carefree, but with a strong sense of responsibility - without any shadow.

"Renzo gladly embraced this opinion; Lucia approved it; and Agnes, proud of having given it, took the poor beasts out of the room one by one, put their eight legs together as if she were making a bunch of flowers, wrapped them up and tied them with a string, and handed them into Renzo's hand; who, having given and received words of hope, went out into the garden, so as not to be seen by the boys, who ran after him, shouting: the bridegroom! the bridegroom! So, crossing the fields or, as they say there, the places, he went off down the lanes, trembling, thinking over his misfortune, and ruminating over the speech to be made to Doctor Azzecca-garbugli. I leave it to the reader to think how those poor beasts must have been travelling, so tied up and held by the legs, head downwards, in the hand of a man who, agitated by so many passions, accompanied with gestures the thoughts that passed through his mind in turmoil. Now he stretched out his arm in anger, now he raised it in despair, now he thrust it in the air, as if to threaten, and, in every way, he shook them fiercely, and made those four heads jump; which in the meantime were endeavouring to peck at each other, as happens all too often among companions in misfortune" [I Promessi Sposi, ch.3].

To internalise and live the message:

In your community, is the administration of goods public, regular and transparent or the chronic prerogative of individuals and groups without control?

Last Sunday, St Luke the Evangelist, who was more concerned than others to show Jesus' love for the poor, offered us various ideas for reflection on the danger of an excessive attachment to money, to material goods and to all that prevents us from living to the full our vocation to love God and neighbour. Today too, through a parable that inspires in us a certain surprise since it speaks of a dishonest steward who is praised (cf. Lk 16: 1-13), a close look reveals that here the Lord has reserved a serious and particularly salutary teaching for us. As always, the Lord draws inspiration from the events of daily life: he tells of a steward who is on the point of being dismissed for dishonest management of his master's affairs and who, to assure a future for himself, cunningly seeks to come to an arrangement with his master's debtors. He is undoubtedly dishonest but clever: the Gospel does not present him to us as a model to follow in his dishonesty, but rather as an example to be imitated for his farsighted guile. The short parable ends, in fact, with these words: "The master commended the dishonest steward for his prudence" (Lk 16: 8) [...]

We could then say, paraphrasing one of St Augustine's thoughts, that through earthly riches we must procure for ourselves those true and eternal riches: indeed, if people exist who are prepared to resort to every type of dishonesty to assure themselves an always unpredictable material well-being, how much more concerned we Christians must be to provide for our eternal happiness with the goods of this earth (cf. Discourses, 359, 10). Now, the only way of bringing our personal talents and abilities and the riches we possess to fruition for eternity is to share them with our brethren, thereby showing that we are good stewards of what God entrusts to us.

[Pope Benedict, homily in Velletri 23 September 2007]

2. They come from afar, one could almost define them as endemic, the problems and challenges that present themselves to the pastoral activity of the Brazilian Northeast, posing the disquieting question to the pastors of the Church: how to evangelise such immense and poor populations and share the anguish born of their poverty, which in real life has very concrete aspects, in which we should recognise the suffering features of Christ? How can we build the Church, with its distinguishing characteristic of "signalling and safeguarding the transcendent dimension of the human person" and promoting his integral dignity, with these "living stones", when their poverty is, many times, not only a casual consequence of ineluctable situations of natural factors, but also a product of certain economic, social and political structures?

3. One cannot fail to recall with gratitude on this occasion, at least globally, the pleiads of self-sacrificing, virtuous and devoted missionaries and pastors who have preceded you and who must be considered as the founders of the Church of God (cf. Eph 2:20) in your present-day dioceses, or, to use the patristic expression, "have there begotten" Churches, and not without suffering. In their time, they must surely have wondered what God's plan was for each man's vocation in the building of society, to make it ever more human, just and fraternal, and how the priority of priorities in evangelisation could be implemented: to seek first and foremost the kingdom of God and its justice.

5. Peoples and human groups, in general, in order to progress, gradually and effectively, and not only satisfy immediate vital needs, need solidarity, to achieve the indispensable and permanent transformation of the structures of economic life. But it will not be easy to proceed along the steep path of this transformation, unless there is a true conversion of minds, wills and hearts, which will do away with the confusion of freedom with the instinct of individual and collective interest, or even with the instinct of struggle and predominance, whatever the ideological colours with which they are clothed (cf. John Paul II, Redemptor Hominis, 16).

[Pope John Paul II, Address to the Brazilian Bishops 16 September 1985]

Today, Jesus invites us to reflect on two opposing ways of life: the way of the world and that of the Gospel — the worldly spirit is not the spirit of Jesus — and He does so by recounting the parable of the unfaithful and corrupt steward, who is praised by Jesus, despite his dishonesty (cf. Lk 16:1-13). We must point out immediately that this administrator is not presented as a model to follow, but as an example of deceitfulness. This man is accused of mismanaging his master’s affairs, and before being removed, astutely he tries to ingratiate himself with the debtors, condoning part of their debt so as to ensure himself a future. Commenting on this behaviour, Jesus observes: “For the sons of this world are wiser in their own generation than the sons of light” (v. 8).

We are called to respond to this worldly astuteness with Christian astuteness, which is a gift of the Holy Spirit. This is a matter of departing from the worldly spirit and values, which the devil really favours, in order to live according to the Gospel. How is worldliness manifested? Worldliness is manifested by attitudes of corruption, deception, subjugation, and it constitutes the most ill-chosen road, the road of sin, because one leads you to the other! It’s like a chain, even if — it’s true — it is generally the easiest road to travel. Instead, the spirit of the Gospel requires a serious lifestyle — serious but joyful, full of joy! — serious and challenging, marked by honesty, fairness, respect for others and their dignity, and a sense of duty. And this is Christian astuteness!

The journey of life necessarily involves a choice between two roads: between honesty and dishonesty, between fidelity and infidelity, between selfishness and altruism, between good and evil. You can not waver between one and the other, because they move on different and conflicting forms of logic. The prophet Elijah said to the people of Israel that went on these two roads: “You are limping with both feet!” (cf. 1 Kings 18:21). It’s a fine image. It is important to decide which direction to take and then, once you have chosen the right one, to walk it with enthusiasm and determination, trusting in God’s grace and the support of His Spirit. The conclusion of the Gospel passage is powerful and categorical: “No servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other” (Lk 16:13).

With this teaching, Jesus today urges us to make a clear choice between Him and the worldly spirit, between the logic of corruption, of the abuse of power and greed, and that of righteousness, meekness and sharing. Some people conduct themselves with corruption as they do with drugs: they think they can use it and stop when they want. It starts out small: a tip here, a bribe over there.... And between this and that, one’s freedom is slowly lost. Corruption is also habit-forming, and generates poverty, exploitation, and suffering. How many victims there are in the world today! How many victims of this widespread corruption. But when we try to follow the Gospel logic of integrity, clarity in intentions and in behaviour, of fraternity, we become artisans of justice and we open horizons of hope for humanity. In gratuitousness and by giving of ourselves to our brothers and sisters, we serve the right master: God.

May the Virgin Mary help us to choose at every opportunity and at all costs, the right way, even finding the courage to go against the tide, in order to follow Jesus and his Gospel.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 18 September 2016]

A God in search of the lost and unequal, to expand our life

(Lk 15:1-10)

Jesus shatters all predictability. In the Son, God is revealed no longer as exclusive property, but as the Power of Love that forgives marginalized and lost: He saves and creates, freeing.

And through his Church He unfolds a Face that recovers, breaks down barriers and calls the wretched.

Jesus wants to awaken the conscience of the "righteous": there is a counterpart of us who supposes of himself, very dangerous, because it leads to exclusion and abandonment.

Instead, inexhaustible Love seeks. And finds the imperfect and restless.

The swamp of stagnant energy that is generated by accentuating the boundaries does not allow you to grow: it locks in the usual positions and lets everyone manage or get lost.

All this made the creative virtues fall into despair. Instead, the Father is searching for the insufficient... Sinner but true, therefore more disposed to transparent love: this is the principle of Redemption.

It is not the squeamish attitude that unites us to Him. The Lord has no outside interests.

He rejoices with everyone, and it is the need that draws Him to us. So we are not afraid to let ourselves be found and let ourselves be brought back (v.5)... to His House, which is our home.

If there is a bewilderment, there will be a find, and this is not a loss for anyone - except for the envious of others' freedom (v.2).

In fact, God is not pleased with marginalization, nor does he intend to extinguish the fumiganting wick.

The Son does not come to point the finger at bad moments, but to recover, drawing on intimate involvement. An invincible force of loyalty.

This is the style of a Church with a Sacred Heart, amiable, elevated and blessed.

(What attracts participation and expression is to feel understood, not condemned). Carlo Carretto said: «It is feeling loved, not criticized, that man begins his journey of transformation».

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti [Brethren All] emphasizes: Jesus - our Engine and Motive - «had an open heart, sensitive to the difficulties of others» (n.84).

And adds as example of Tradition: «People can develop certain habits that might appear as moral values: fortitude, sobriety, hard work and similar virtues. Yet if the acts of the various moral virtues are to be rightly directed, one needs to take into account the extent to which they foster openness and union with others. That is made possible by the charity that God infuses. Without charity, we may perhaps possess only apparent virtues, incapable of sustaining life in common».

«Saint Bonaventure, for his part, explained that the other virtues, without charity, strictly speaking do not fulfil the commandments “the way God wants them to be fulfilled”» (n.91).

Well, human and spiritual riches risk being deposited in a secluded place - if so, they age and debase.

On the contrary, in the assemblies of the sons they are shared: they grow and communicate; by multiplying they revive, with universal benefit.

[Thursday 31st wk. in O.T.  November 5, 2026]

A God in search of the lost and unequal, to expand our life

(Lk 15:1-10)

Why does Jesus speak of Joy in reference to the one sheep?

Says the Tao Tê Ching (x): "Preserve the One by dwelling in the two souls: are you able to keep them apart?"

Even in the spiritual journey, Jesus is careful not to propose a dictated or planned universalism, as if his were an ideal model, "for the purpose of homogenisation" (Brothers All No.100).

The type of Communion that the Lord proposes to us does not aim at "a one-dimensional uniformity that seeks to eliminate all differences and traditions in a superficial search for unity".

Because "the future is not 'monochromatic' but if we have the courage, it is possible to look at it in the variety and diversity of the contributions that each one can make. How much our human family needs to learn to live together in harmony and peace without us all being equal!" (from an Address to Young People in Tokyo, November 2019).

Although the piety and hope of the representatives of official religiosity was founded on a structure of human, ethnic, cultural securities and a vision of the Mystery consolidated by a great tradition, Jesus crumbles all predictability.

In the Son, God is revealed no longer as exclusive property, but as the Power of Love that forgives the marginalised and lost: saving and creating, liberating. And through the disciples, he unfolds his Face that recovers, breaks down the usual barriers, calls out to miserable multitudes.

It seems an impossible utopia to realise in the concrete (today of the health and global crisis) but it is the sense of the handover to the Church, called to become an incessant prod of the Infinite and ferment of an alternative world, for integral human development:

"Let us dream as one humanity, as wayfarers made of the same human flesh, as children of this same earth that is home to us all, each with the richness of his faith or convictions, each with his own voice, all brothers!" (FT no.8).

Through an absurd question (phrased rhetorically) Jesus wants to awaken the conscience of the 'righteous': there is a counterpart of us that supposes of itself, very dangerous, because it leads to exclusion, to abandonment.

Instead, inexhaustible Love seeks. And it finds the imperfect and restless.

The swamp of stagnant energy that is generated by accentuating boundaries does not make anyone grow: it locks in the usual positions and leaves everyone to make do or lose themselves. Out of self-interested disinterest - that impoverishes everyone.

This made the creative virtues fall into despair.

And it plunged those who were outside the circle of the elect - anterior ones who had nothing superior. In fact, Luke portrays them as utterly incapable of beaming with human joy at the progress of others.

Calculating, acting and conforming - the leaders (fundamentalist or sophisticated) are ignorant of reality, and use religion as a weapon.

Instead, God is at the antipodes of the fake sterilised - or disembodied thinking - and looking for the one who wanders shakily, easily becomes disoriented, loses his way. 

Sinful yet true, therefore more disposed to genuine Love. This is why the Father is searching for the insufficient.

The person who is so limpid and spontaneous - even if weak - hides his best side and vocational richness precisely behind the apparently detestable sides. Perhaps that he himself does not appreciate.

This is the principle of Redemption that astounds and makes interesting our often distracted paths, conducted by trial and error - in Faith, however, generating self-esteem, credit, fullness and joy.

The commitment of the purifier and the impetus of the reformer are 'trades' that seemingly oppose each other, but are easy... and typical of those who think that the things to be challenged and changed are always outside themselves.

For example, in mechanisms, in general rules, in the legal framework, in worldviews, in formal (or histrionic) aspects instead of the craft of the concrete particular good; and so on.

They seem to be excuses not to look inside oneself and get involved, not to meet one's deepest states in all aspects and not only in the guidelines. And to recover or cheer up individuals who are concretely lost, sad, in all dark and difficult sides.

But God is at the antipodes of sterilised mannerists or fake idealists, and in search of the insufficient: he who wanders and loses his way. Sinful yet true, therefore more disposed to genuine Love.

The transparent and spontaneous person - even if weak - hides his best part and vocational richness precisely behind the apparently detestable aspects (perhaps which he himself does not appreciate).

So let us ask for solutions to the mysterious, unpredictable interpersonal energies that come into play; from within things.

Without interfering with or opposing ideas of the past or future that we do not see. Rather by possessing its soul, its spontaneous drug.

This is the principle of Salvation that astounds and makes interesting our paths [often distracted, led by trial and error] - ultimately generating self-esteem, credit and joy.

The idea that the Most High is a notary or prince of a forum, and makes a clear distinction between righteous and transgressors, is caricature.

After all, a life of the saved is not one's own making, nor is it exclusive possession or private ownership - which turns into duplicity.

It is not the squeamish attitude, nor the cerebral attitude, that unites one to Him. The Father does not blandish suppliant friendships, nor does He have outside interests.

He rejoices with everyone, and it is need that draws Him to us. So let us not be afraid to let Him find us and bring us back (v.5)... to His house, which is our house.

If there is a loss, there will be a finding, and this is no loss to anyone - except to the envious enemies of freedom (v.2).

For the LORD is not pleased with marginalisation, nor does he intend to extinguish the smoking lamp.

Jesus does not come to point the finger at the bad times, but to make up for them, by leveraging intimate involvement. Invincible force of faithfulness.

This is the style of a Church with a Sacred Heart, lovable, elevated and blessed.

[What attracts one to participate and express oneself is to feel understood, restored to full dignity - not condemned].

Carlo Carretto said: 'It is by feeling loved, not criticised, that man begins his journey of transformation'.

As the encyclical Fratelli Tutti emphasises again:

Jesus - our Engine and Motive - "had an open heart, which made the dramas of others its own" (n.84).

And he adds as an example of our great Tradition:

"People can develop certain attitudes which they present as moral values: fortitude, sobriety, industriousness and other virtues. But in order to properly direct the acts [...] we must also consider to what extent they realise a dynamism of openness and union [...] Otherwise we will only have appearances'.

"St Bonaventure explained that the other virtues, without charity, strictly speaking do not fulfil the commandments as God intends them" (n.91).

In sects or one-sidedly inspired groups, human and spiritual riches are deposited in a secluded place, so they grow old and debased.

In the assemblies of the sons, on the other hand, they are shared: they grow and communicate; by multiplying, they green up, for universal benefit.

To internalise and live the message:

What attracts you to the Church? In comparisons with the top of the class, do you feel judged or adequate?

Do you feel the Love that saves, even if you remain uncertain?

Heart that does not give up

Celebrating the Jubilee of Priests on the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, we are called to point to the heart, that is, to the interiority, to the strongest roots of life, to the core of the affections, in a word, to the centre of the person. And today we turn our gaze to two hearts: the Heart of the Good Shepherd and our own heart as shepherds.

The Heart of the Good Shepherd is not only the Heart that has mercy on us, but it is mercy itself. There the Father's love shines out; there I feel sure of being accepted and understood as I am; there, with all my limitations and sins, I taste the certainty of being chosen and loved. Looking at that Heart I renew my first love: the memory of when the Lord touched my soul and called me to follow him, the joy of having cast the nets of life on his Word (cf. Lk 5:5).

The Heart of the Good Shepherd tells us that his love has no bounds, never tires and never gives up. There we see his continuous self-giving, without limits; there we find the source of his faithful and meek love, which leaves us free and sets us free; there we rediscover every time that Jesus loves us "to the end" (Jn 13:1) - he does not stop before, to the end -, without ever imposing himself.

The Heart of the Good Shepherd is outstretched towards us, "polarised" especially towards those who are most distant; there he stubbornly points the needle of his compass, there he reveals a particular weakness of love, because he wishes to reach everyone and no one to lose.

Before the Heart of Jesus arises the fundamental question of our priestly life: where is my heart oriented? A question that we priests must ask ourselves many times, every day, every week: where is my heart oriented? The ministry is often full of multiple initiatives, which expose it on so many fronts: from catechesis to liturgy, to charity, to pastoral and even administrative commitments. In the midst of so many activities, the question remains: where is my heart fixed? I am reminded of that beautiful prayer from the liturgy: "Ubi vera sunt gaudia...". Where does it point, what is the treasure it seeks? Because - Jesus says - "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Mt 6:21). There are weaknesses in all of us, even sins. But let us go to the depths, to the root: where is the root of our weaknesses, of our sins, that is, where is that very 'treasure' that draws us away from the Lord?

The irreplaceable treasures of the Heart of Jesus are two: the Father and us. His days were spent between praying to the Father and meeting people. Not distance, encounter. The heart of Christ's pastor also knows only two directions: the Lord and people. The heart of the priest is a heart pierced by the love of the Lord; therefore he no longer looks to himself - he should not look to himself - but is turned to God and to his brothers and sisters. It is no longer 'a dancing heart', which is attracted by the suggestion of the moment or which goes hither and thither in search of approval and petty satisfaction. Instead, it is a heart steadfast in the Lord, gripped by the Holy Spirit, open and available to the brethren. And there he resolves his sins.

To help our hearts burn with the charity of Jesus the Good Shepherd, we can train ourselves to make our own three actions, which today's readings suggest: seek, include and rejoice.

Seek. The prophet Ezekiel reminded us that God himself seeks his sheep (34:11, 16). He, says the Gospel, "goes in search of the lost one" (Lk 15:4), without being frightened by the risks; without qualms he ventures out of the pasture grounds and out of the working hours. And he does not charge overtime. He does not postpone the search, he does not think 'I have already done my duty today, and if anything, I will deal with it tomorrow', but sets to work immediately; his heart is restless until he finds that one lost sheep. Having found it, he forgets his fatigue and loads it on his shoulders all happy. Sometimes he has to go out to look for it, to speak, to persuade; at other times he has to remain in front of the tabernacle, struggling with the Lord for that sheep.

Here is the heart that seeks: it is a heart that does not privatise time and space. Woe to the shepherds who privatise their ministry! He is not jealous of his legitimate peace of mind - legitimate, I say, not even of that - and never claims not to be disturbed. The pastor after God's own heart does not defend his own comforts, is not concerned with protecting his good name, but will be slandered, like Jesus. Undeterred by criticism, he is willing to take risks in order to imitate his Lord. "Blessed are you when they insult you, when they persecute you..." (Mt 5:11).

The shepherd according to Jesus has a free heart to leave his things behind, he does not live by accounting for what he has and the hours of service: he is not an accountant of the spirit, but a good Samaritan in search of those in need. He is a shepherd, not an inspector of the flock, and he dedicates himself to the mission not fifty or sixty percent, but with his whole self. In seeking he finds, and he finds because he risks. If the shepherd does not risk, he does not find. He does not stop after disappointments, and in his labours he does not give up; for he is obstinate in the good, anointed by divine obstinacy that no one should go astray. That is why he not only keeps the doors open, but goes out in search of those who no longer wish to enter through the door. And like every good Christian, and as an example for every Christian, he is always going out of himself. The epicentre of his heart is outside himself: he is off-centred from himself, centred only in Jesus. He is not drawn by his ego, but by the You of God and the we of men.

Second word: include. Christ loves and knows his sheep, he lays down his life for them and none are strangers to him (cf. Jn 10:11-14). His flock is his family and his life. He is not a leader feared by the sheep, but the Shepherd who walks with them and calls them by name (cf. Jn 10:3-4). And He desires to gather the sheep that do not yet dwell with Him (cf. Jn 10:16).

So also the priest of Christ: he is anointed for the people, not to choose his own projects, but to be close to the concrete people that God, through the Church, has entrusted to him. No one is excluded from his heart, his prayer and his smile. With a loving gaze and a father's heart he welcomes, includes and, when he has to correct, it is always to approach; no one despises, but for all he is ready to dirty his hands. The Good Shepherd knows no gloves. A minister of the communion he celebrates and lives, he does not expect greetings and compliments from others, but first offers his hand, rejecting gossip, judgement and venom. With patience he listens to people's problems and accompanies their steps, bestowing divine forgiveness with generous compassion. He does not scold those who leave or go astray, but is always ready to reintegrate and settle disputes. He is a man who knows how to include.

Rejoice. God is "full of joy" (Lk 15:5): his joy is born of forgiveness, of life rising, of the son breathing home air again. The joy of Jesus the Good Shepherd is not a joy for himself, but a joy for others and with others, the true joy of love. This is also the joy of the priest. He is transformed by the mercy he freely bestows. In prayer he discovers God's consolation and experiences that nothing is stronger than his love. That is why he is inwardly serene, and is happy to be a channel of mercy, to bring man closer to the Heart of God. Sadness for him is not normal, but only passing; hardness is alien to him, for he is a shepherd according to the meek Heart of God.

Dear priests, in the Eucharistic Celebration we rediscover every day this identity of ours as shepherds. Each time we can truly make his words our own: "This is my body offered as a sacrifice for you". This is the meaning of our life, these are the words with which, in a certain way, we can daily renew the promises of our Ordination. I thank you for your 'yes', and for so many hidden everyday 'yeses' that only the Lord knows. I thank you for your "yes" to giving your life united to Jesus: therein lies the pure source of our joy.

[Pope Francis, homily 3 June 2016]

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 

The liturgy today once again presents for our meditation Chapter 15 of Luke's Gospel, one of the loftiest and most moving passages of all Sacred Scripture. It is beautiful to think that on this day throughout the world, wherever the Christian community gathers to celebrate the Sunday Eucharist, the Good News of truth and salvation rings out: God is merciful love. 

The Evangelist Luke has gathered in this Chapter three parables on divine mercy: the two shortest ones which he has in common with Matthew and Mark are the Parables of the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin; the third, lengthy, articulate and proper to him alone, is the famous parable of the merciful Father, commonly known as the parable of the "Prodigal Son".

In this Gospel passage, we almost seem to hear Jesus' voice revealing to us the Face of his Father and our Father. Basically, this was the reason he came into the world: to speak to us of the Father; to make him known to us, his lost children, and to revive in our hearts the joy of belonging to him, the hope of being forgiven and restored to our full dignity, the desire to dwell for ever in his house which is also our house. 

Jesus recounted the three parables of mercy because the Scribes and Pharisees were muttering bad things about him since they had noticed he permitted sinners to approach him and even eat with him (cf. Lk 15: 1-3). He then explained in his typical language that God does not want even one of his children to be lost and that his soul overflows with joy whenever a sinner is converted.

True religion thus consists in being attuned to this Heart, "rich in mercy", which asks us to love everyone, even those who are distant and our enemies, imitating the Heavenly Father who respects the freedom of each one and draws everyone to himself with the invincible power of his faithfulness.
This is the road Jesus points out to all who want to be his disciples: "Judge not... condemn not... forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you.... Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful" (Lk 6: 36-38). In these words we find very practical instructions for our daily conduct as believers. 

In our time, humanity needs a strong proclamation and witness of God's mercy. Beloved John Paul II, a great apostle of Divine Mercy, prophetically intuited this urgent pastoral need. He dedicated his Second Encyclical to it and throughout his Pontificate made himself a missionary of God's love to all peoples. 

After the tragic events of 11 September 2001, which darkened the dawn of the third millennium, he invited Christians and people of good will to believe that God's Mercy is stronger than all evil, and that only in the Cross of Christ is the world's salvation found. 

May the Virgin Mary, Mother of Mercy, whom we contemplated yesterday as Our Lady of Sorrows at the foot of the Cross, obtain for us the gift of always trusting in God's love and help us to be merciful as our Father in Heaven is merciful.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 16 September 2007]