13th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year A)  [28 June 2026]

First Reading from the Second Book of Kings (4:8–11, 14–16a)

Here is a brief overview of this Sunday’s biblical readings, beginning with this story of a beautiful human friendship. In Shunem, a village in the Northern Kingdom around 850 BC, Elisha, at the start of his ministry, forms a strong and lasting friendship with a wealthy family. The biblical authors do not recount this story merely as an anecdote: they have a theological purpose and show that the covenant between Elisha and the Shunammites is a reflection of the Covenant between God and Israel. This story unfolds in four acts: 1. The promise of a son: Elisha announces to the barren woman: ‘Next year, at this very time, you will be holding a son in your arms.’ She does not believe him and replies: ‘No, my lord, man of God, do not lie to your servant.’ Like Sarah at Mamre, she doubts. But the following year the child is born. 2. The resurrection: Years later, the child dies in the fields, struck down by heatstroke. Without losing faith, the mother lays the body on Elisha’s bed, in the room on the terrace, and runs to find him. She reminds him: ‘I had not asked you for anything; do not take this son from me.’ Elisha prays and raises the child from the dead. 3. The warning of famine: True to this friendship, Elisha warns the Shunammite woman of seven years of famine and advises her to leave for the land of the Philistines. She obeys and goes into exile. 4. The restoration of her property. On her return, her house and fields had been confiscated by the king’s officials. Elisha intervenes once more and restores her lands to her. But what theological lesson does this text offer us? This friendship illustrates five aspects of the Covenant between God and Israel: 1. A permanent covenant and faithfulness: God remains faithful even in the face of unbelief.  2. Constant care: Just as Elisha did for his hostess, God watches over his people without ceasing.  3. God dwells with us: Elisha accepts the room on the terrace: God wishes to dwell amongst his people, as in Solomon’s Temple.  4. God restores: Elisha restores the land; God promises to restore the land to Israel – a key message written during the Babylonian Exile.  5. God is the God of life: A promise of the child’s birth and resurrection, for God gives life. The Shunammite woman becomes a model of faith for us: she welcomes the prophet ‘as a prophet’, as Jesus will say in the Gospel of Matthew (10:41). Her trust is complete: she dares to tell God her needs and even her anger. She recognises Elisha as a ‘holy man of God’. Here is a practical application: God dwells in the heart of every person, and it is important to recognise this. 

Responsorial Psalm (88/89)

Here is a clear message: we must never doubt. The first reading recounts the long friendship between a family from Shunem and the prophet Elisha, the ‘man of God’. Through this human relationship, we reflect on the eternal Covenant between God and his people, and with all humanity. Psalm 88/89, which is proclaimed today, seems to be a song written in the midst of trial.  Although the few verses of the responsorial psalm seem full of joy, the complete psalm, comprising no fewer than 53 verses, was probably composed during the Babylonian Exile. It is a synthesis of the entire history of Israel: the beginning of the Covenant, the promises to David, the expectation of the Messiah… and then the collapse: no more kings in Jerusalem, no heir, and therefore no Messiah. Hence the anguished question in verse 50: ‘Where, O Lord, is your first love, the one you swore to David concerning your faithfulness?’. What is asserted with such force is, in reality, what one fears to have lost. The psalm is, moreover, the last in the third book of the Psalms and concludes with: ‘Blessed be the Lord for ever! Amen! Amen!’. It therefore has the character of a conclusion. On closer inspection, this psalm presents itself as a skilful composition. The first stanza is very carefully crafted, with parallel structures: I will sing of the Lord’s love without end; I will proclaim your faithfulness from age to age. Love/faithfulness, song/proclamation, without end/from age to age, established/stable, for ever/the heavens: a marvellous parallelism between time and space that invites us to cherish the singing of the Psalms.  The heart of the message is Love and faithfulness. In the complete psalm, the pairing ‘love and faithfulness’ occurs seven times, a symbolic number. It is the translation of the revelation to Moses on Mount Sinai: ‘A God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in love and faithfulness’ (Ex 34:6) .   In Hebrew, ‘love’—that is, ‘God’s acts of love’—indicates that God does not love merely in words, but ‘in deed and in truth’, as St John will say in the New Testament.  It is precisely during the exile that Israel remembers, more than ever, ‘God’s acts of love’ so as not to fall into the temptation of thinking that God has forgotten them. In short, the psalm presents a group of believers composing hymns to commemorate the faithfulness of God, who has never ceased to be the King of Israel. The phrase “for the Lord is our shield, our King, the Holy One of Israel” is sung precisely at a time when there is no longer a human king. And it is interesting that the psalm uses royal and martial vocabulary: ‘shout of triumph/terouah, power, strength, vigour, shield’ – because the king led the army. These are victorious expressions spoken in a time of defeat. And the psalm concludes by recalling the insults suffered by the Messiah: ‘ Remember, Lord, your servants who have been humiliated… your enemies have humiliated, Lord, your Messiah”.   Moral: it is precisely in the night, in the darkness of exile and trial, that we must believe in the light and in the reaffirmation of God’s promises.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (6:3… 11)

St Paul points to a new way of life and responds to the objection  of those who reproach him, saying that by placing too much emphasis on the free gift of salvation, he is encouraging sin. He retorts: grace does not render sin irrelevant, but it no longer has power over the believer because, from Baptism, the believer is a ‘new creation’: ‘If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation’ (2 Cor 5:17). Paul explains the meaning of the key word ‘death’, which is not biological, and uses this word in a theological sense: all of us who have been baptised into Christ Jesus have been baptised into his death… we have therefore died to sin, and now we live for God in Christ Jesus. It is a radical break with the past, one that no longer fears physical death. Paul speaks from experience: on the road to Damascus, he ‘died’ to the old self, to his former way of seeing, acting and believing. The ‘baptism’ of Israel thus serves as a key for Paul to explain Christian Baptism, as he clearly recalls in his First Letter to the Corinthians (cf. 1 Cor 10:1–2) . Israel, ‘baptised’ by Moses in the cloud and the sea during the crossing of the Red Sea, experienced the death of Egyptian slavery: forced labour, massacres, the Pharaoh’s bad faith – and thus a clean break with the machinery of oppression.  In this way, Christ brings about the decisive break: the person enslaved by sin, by doubts, by violence, is set free. Jesus, ‘obedient unto death, even death on a cross’ (Phil 2:8), breaks the vicious circle. His death is a triumph: ‘dead to sin once and for all, alive to God’. To live in the manner of Christ is therefore ‘to die to sin’—that is, to die to the old way of life: hatred, violence, the thirst for power and money—in order to ‘live for and in God’, that is, to choose Christ as the one Lord and to enter into a new life made up of love and service to one’s brothers and sisters. Baptism marks the beginning of this radical change: it is true liberation. Paul says to the baptised: “Consider yourselves dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus”. The gift has already been granted, but it remains to be put into practice every day. And here lies the challenge that arises from it: whilst entering into salvation is simple—for it is enough simply to believe—living it out becomes extremely demanding, as it requires us to model our daily lives on the Spirit of Christ. He repeats this in his letter to the Ephesians: ‘Put off the old self… be renewed in the spirit of your mind, and put on the new self, created according to God in righteousness and true holiness’ (Eph 4:22–24). There is but one secret: to keep our eyes fixed on the cross of Christ. Only his obedience and gentleness break the chain of violence. As Jesus says: ‘Abide in me, and I in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, neither can you unless you remain in me’ (Jn 15:4).

From the Gospel according to Matthew (10:37–42)

This text helps us to learn how to accept the necessary sacrifices. At first glance, Matthew 10:37–42 seems like a list of unrelated maxims. In reality, it is a single invitation: these are the detachments required by fidelity to the Gospel. After the Sermon on the Mount on love, Jesus speaks here of other demands. We must learn to love God in times of persecution of the Church: ‘Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me’. Loving God does not mean ceasing to love one’s family, even though he had warned shortly before: ‘Brother will turn against brother and father against son, and children will rise up against their parents and put them to death’ (cf. Mt 10:21). ‘I have not come to bring peace, but a sword… I will set a man against his father’ (Mt 10:34–35; cf. Micah 7:6). How can this be explained?  Every persecution gives rise to personal tragedies because one is forced to choose between faithfulness and death. Even without violence, it is within the family and amongst friends that bearing witness is most difficult and can lead to heart-wrenching conflict. To learn to love is therefore to take up one’s cross: “Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it; whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.”  For Jesus and his listeners, crucifixion was a humiliating form of mass execution carried out along Roman roads, as it exposed the condemned to horror, disgrace and derision. In Deuteronomy we read that the crucified person is ‘cursed by God’ (Deut 21:22–23). And in Psalm 21/22, Jesus proclaims: ‘I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men, rejected by the people’, although the interpretation of this passage helps us to better understand what Jesus meant (in the footnote, I have taken the liberty of including a text I came across). Jesus knows that he and his disciples will be persecuted, despised and humiliated. “A servant is not greater than his master. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). “Taking up the cross” means accepting being marginalised, losing one’s reputation for the sake of faithfulness to Christ. Finally, here is the only reward that answers all our objections: “ Whoever welcomes you welcomes me; whoever welcomes me welcomes the One who sent me… Whoever welcomes a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; whoever welcomes a righteous person because he is righteous will receive a righteous person’s reward. And whoever gives even a single glass of cool water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple will not lose his reward”.  It sounds like a ‘give-and-take’, but it is not. We are not in the realm of ‘having’, but of ‘being’. God does not give quantities of goods, but eternal life: life in his very presence. All the saints bear witness to a quality of happiness, not a quantity.  Jesus himself promises: “ ‘Whoever has left houses, brothers, sisters, father, mother, children or fields for my sake will receive a hundredfold and will inherit eternal life’ (Mt 19:29).  Paul lived this out: ‘Whatever gains I once had, I have come to regard as a loss for the sake of Christ… so that I may know Christ, share in his sufferings, and become like him in his death’ (Phil 3:7–10). ‘Being seized by Christ’ is what is at stake. If one seeks a common thread running through this text, it can easily be found in the link between all these phrases, precisely in this verb; ‘being seized by Christ’ as an inner fire that makes possible all acts of renunciation out of fidelity to the Gospel: renunciation of affection, of esteem, of possessions, of life itself. The Beatitudes resound powerfully within our hearts: ‘Blessed are you when they revile you… Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great! ” (Mt 5:11–12).

Note: Jesus, the “worm” on the cross. On the cross, JESUS COMPARED HIMSELF TO AN INSECT TO REVEAL THE SECRET OF HIS DEATH. THIS IS THE MYSTERY OF PSALM 22… As he was dying on the cross, Jesus recited Psalm 22. It is the quintessential prophetic psalm of the crucifixion. But in verse 6 there is a humiliating and bewildering phrase: ‘Yet I am a worm and not a man, scorned by everyone, despised by the people’ . Why does the King of the universe, at the most glorious moment of redemption, describe himself as a ‘worm’?  Middle Eastern zoology reveals one of nature’s most moving portraits of love. The TOLA’ATH SHANI תּוֹלַעַת שָׁנִי, the Hebrew word used by David, is not the common term for ‘earthworm’. He used Tola’ath Shani, meaning ‘crimson worm’, from which a red dye was extracted. When the female of this crimson worm is ready to give birth, she performs an instinctive and radical act: she seeks out a tree trunk and attaches herself to it forever. It clings to it with such force that, if anyone tries to pry it loose, its body is torn apart.  There, still attached to the wood, it gives birth to its young. To protect them from predators, the mother secretes a crimson-red fluid that covers her entire body, stains the wood red and completely envelops her young. In this act of giving life and protection, the mother dies.  

Here is the extraordinary phenomenon: three days later, the mother’s lifeless body, still attached to the tree, loses its red colour, turns as white as snow and falls gently to the ground (Isaiah 1:18). JESUS NAILED HIMSELF TO THE TREE TO GIVE YOU LIFE: Jesus was not using a metaphor of humiliation, but was proclaiming his mission, and this is a message for us.  Jesus was saying to you from the cross: ‘I am the Tola’ath Shani’. He chose to go to the tree of his own free will. He allowed himself to be nailed to the cross, knowing that if he had come down from it, his ‘children’ – us – would have died at the hands of the predator. He shed his crimson fluid – his blood – to cover you, protect you and give you life, by offering up his own.  When you feel worthless, when you think that nobody cares about you or that the enemy will devour you, look at the wood of the cross. You have a Saviour who chose to die nailed to a tree rather than lose you. His blood has covered you entirely and, three days later, He rose again to make you as white as snow. You are the fruit of His perfect sacrifice!

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul  [29 June 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (12:1–11)

The central theme of this text is: ‘God always delivers for the sake of the mission’. At that time, the young Church was under pressure, and the miracle of Peter’s deliverance must not make us forget the atmosphere of the early Church. Jesus died around AD 30, and at the beginning the disciples were few in number and harmless. The problems began with ‘too spectacular’ healings, which led to Peter being imprisoned twice by the religious authorities: the first time alongside John, involving a trial and threats, whilst the second time alongside other apostles, who were freed at night by an angel: ‘Go, stand in the Temple and proclaim to the people all these words of life’ (Acts 5:17–20).  Then came the execution of Stephen and the persecution that drove the ‘Hellenists’ to flee from Jerusalem towards Samaria and the coast. James, Peter and John remained. In the episode in Acts 12, it is the political authorities who take action. We are under Herod Agrippa I, grandson of Herod the Great, who reigned alone from 41 to 44 AD. This is why we can date the episode precisely.  Agrippa, ‘a Roman in Caesarea, a Jew in Jerusalem’, sought to curry favour with both Rome and the Jews. In both cases, the Christians were enemies to be eliminated. To please the Jews, he has James, son of Zebedee, put to death and imprisons Peter during the Jewish Passover, the Week of Unleavened Bread. What interests Luke is the mission, not just Peter, who once again escapes miraculously, because for Luke the central point is evangelisation. The angel does not set them free to save them, but because ‘the world needs them’. God does not abandon the apostles: no blind tyranny can halt the proclamation of the Word of life. There is a parallel between Easter, the Exodus and the Passion. In a sense, the story of the Jewish Passover is repeated: Israel, enslaved and threatened with genocide, is miraculously freed by God. From century to century, the people remember that liberation is God’s work. And what of this paradox: can those called to proclaim and carry out God’s liberating work become complicit in a new form of domination? No Church is immune. Jesus died precisely because of the perversion of the religious power of his time: during Easter, the memorial of the liberating God, the Son of God is killed by the ‘defenders of God’. Yet it is the love and forgiveness of the ‘meek and humble of heart’ God that triumphs: Jesus rises from the dead. Now it is the young Church that faces religious and political power, just as Jesus did 10–15 years earlier, again during Passover in Jerusalem.  The angel says to Peter: ‘Get up quickly! Put on your belt, fasten your sandals…’. These are the very same words given to Israel on the night of the Exodus: ‘Gird your loins, put sandals on your feet, and take your staff in your hand. You shall eat it in haste’ (Ex 12:11). Luke is saying: God continues the work of liberation.  The entire narrative is structured on the model of Christ’s Passion and Resurrection: night, prison, soldiers, the ‘steamroller’ of domination. Peter sleeps passively, like Jesus in the sleep of death. For both of them, light dawns in the night: God is at work. And here is the conclusion: Jesus had said to Peter: ‘The forces of death—that is, of hatred—will not prevail’, and this teaches us that the miraculous is not an end in itself. God sets us free so that the mission may continue through the ages. The deliverance from Egypt, Christ’s Passover, Peter’s imprisonment: it is a single plan of God who saves in order to send us forth to proclaim the life that no one can destroy.

Responsorial Psalm (33/34)

In this psalm, we are guided by this central theme: God hears the cry of the poor and responds with the Spirit and with brothers and sisters.  After Peter’s deliverance, the psalm reminds us: ‘The angel of the Lord encamps round those who fear him, to deliver them’. And we realise that, whilst the whole Church was praying fervently for Peter in prison, the Lord set him free: ‘The poor cry out,’ says the psalm, ‘and the Lord hears…’. This is what faith is: daring to cry out to God, knowing that, in every circumstance, He hears our cry. The community cried out, and Peter was set free. Yet one question always remains: what if deliverance does not come? Jesus on the cross did not escape death. Peter himself, years later, would be imprisoned in Rome and executed. So was God no longer listening then? It is the question we keep asking ourselves: where is God when we suffer? What is the point of praying, and if we are not answered as we would like, does that mean we have prayed badly? Too many people say, ‘If you pray properly, everything will work out’, but we know that is not always the case. How many have prayed, made novenas and gone on pilgrimages for a healing that never came? This psalm offers us three answers. 1. God hears our cry. As at the burning bush: ‘I have seen the misery of my people in Egypt; I have heard their cry under their oppressors. I know their sufferings’ (Ex 3:7). The believer knows that the Lord is near in suffering, ‘on our side’. Psalm 33/34 says: ‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me… he delivered me. He listens, he saves; his angel encamps round us, he is a refuge’. 2. God responds by giving us his Spirit. “Ask, and it will be given to you… Which father… would give a snake to a son who asks for a fish?” (Luke 11:9–13). Jesus does not promise that everything will be resolved “as if by magic”. When we pray, God does not remove the problem, but fills us with his Spirit. With the Spirit, we can face our trials. Every prayer offered in faith opens us up to the transforming action of the Spirit. The answer to the desperate cry is therefore the inner strength of the Spirit to change the situation, to overcome the trial. “The poor man cries out; the Lord hears him: he saves him from all his troubles… I sought the Lord, and he answered me: he delivered me from all my fears.” Whatever blow may come, the believer knows they are heard, and their anguish can subside. 3. God raises up brothers and sisters around us.  Here is the second lesson from the burning bush: as soon as God says to Moses, ‘I have seen… I have heard the cry… I know their sufferings’, he stirs within Moses the impulse to free the people: “Go, I am sending you to Pharaoh; bring my people out of Egypt” (Ex 3:9–10).  Israel has experienced this pattern many times: suffering, a cry, prayer, and God raising up prophets and leaders to take their destiny back into their own hands. This is precisely the historical experience of Israel. 4. Faith is like a double word, a double cry: man cries out his misery to God, like Job. God listens and frees him from his anguish. And man speaks again to give thanks.  Israel’s vocation throughout the centuries has been to give voice to this polyphony of suffering, praise and hope, and throughout the course of its history nothing has been able to extinguish Israel’s hope. This is what characterises the believer:  ‘I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall ever be on my lips. I take pride in the Lord: let the poor hear and rejoice!’

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (4:6–8, 17–18)

Not everyone agrees that the Letters to Timothy were written by Paul, but these lines are certainly his: indeed, they are his testament, his final farewell as a prisoner in Rome. He knows that he will be released only to be put to death. The ‘time of departure’ has come: he uses the Greek term anàlysis, ‘to cast off the moorings, to weigh anchor’.  Viewing life as a marathon, Paul takes stock using the sporting image dear to him: the long-distance runner crossing the finish line. The time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now all that remains is for me to receive the crown of righteousness.  In Rome, the victor did not receive a cup, but a laurel wreath. There is a crown for everyone, so Paul does not boast: he knows that the Lord, the righteous judge, will award it on that day; not only to me, but also to all those who have lovingly awaited his glorious appearing. God, the impartial judge, sees the intentions of the heart, and all the apostles, all the believers who have longed with love for the coming of Christ, will receive the crown. It is therefore not presumption, but unshakeable trust in God’s goodness. For the very strength to run comes from Him: ‘The Lord stood by me and gave me strength, so that I might fulfil the proclamation of the Gospel and all the nations might hear it’. We must learn to expect everything from God: it is He who gives the strength to run, and it is He who gives the reward to all who run, for life is not a competitive race. Each in their own place, at their own pace; it is enough to ‘long with love for the coming of Christ’. Is this not the ‘blessed hope’ we profess at Mass: ‘We await your coming in glory’? For Paul, the definitive ‘manifestation’ of Christ has always been the horizon towards which to run, and he acknowledges that he has been forsaken by men, yet always sustained by the Lord. Like Christ on the cross and later Stephen, Paul forgives because it was precisely in his abandonment by men that he experienced the presence and strength of the Lord.  The final sentences are striking: he knows he will die, yet he says, ‘The Lord will deliver me from every evil and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom’. He is not, therefore, speaking of physical death, which he expects from one day to the next; he is speaking of the worst danger: giving up, abandoning the race, losing faithfulness. The Lord has preserved him from this ‘lion’. His faithfulness is not his own doing, but a strength he has received; and for him, death is merely biological, rather than the passage into glory, for which he is already singing the hymn of joy: ‘To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen’.

From the Gospel according to Matthew (16:13–19)

At Caesarea, a turning point is reached; an important shift takes place in the vision of Christ: from the powerful Jesus to Jesus, the Son of God, crucified.  For Matthew, the episode at Caesarea Philippi is a decisive stage: immediately afterwards, Jesus began to explain to the disciples that he had to go to Jerusalem, suffer greatly at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, be killed and rise again on the third day. ‘From this moment on’: thus a phase comes to an end, and what is surprising is that nothing new occurs in the titles, but everything is placed in a new light. Nothing unprecedented is said: Jesus gives himself the title ‘Son of Man’, which he has already used nine times in Matthew. Peter proclaims him ‘Son of God’, a title already used before. What is new is the leap in understanding: the ‘Son of Man’ in the Bible is the leader of God’s people, a title taken from the Book of Daniel: ‘Behold, one like a Son of Man was coming with the clouds of heaven… power, glory and a kingdom were given to him; all peoples, nations and languages served him. His power is eternal; his kingdom will never be destroyed’ (Dan 7:13–14). Daniel makes it clear that the ‘Son of Man’ is not merely an individual, but a people: ‘The saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess it for ever… the kingdom, the power and the greatness of the kingdoms under the whole heaven shall be given to the people of the saints of the Most High’ (Dan 7:18, 27) .  When Jesus applies this title to himself, he presents himself as the one who stands at the head of God’s people. ‘Son of God’, on the other hand, is a title that expresses trust, not power.  This title has already been used: in chapter 4, when the devil tempts Jesus: ‘If you are the Son of God’. He is right about the title, but wrong about its meaning: he imagines a powerful and invulnerable Son who uses his power for himself. For Jesus, ‘being the Son of God’ means trusting the Father completely and drawing strength from his Word.  After Jesus walks on the water, the disciples say to him: ‘Truly, you are the Son of God’. They were struck by his power over the sea. They were still one step away from understanding who Jesus truly is. What is new at Caesarea is that Peter proclaims, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God’, not in response to a miracle; thus the ambiguity is dispelled and the journey towards true faith begins. “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah: it was not flesh and blood that revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”  The novelty lies in the combination of the two titles: “Who is the Son of Man?” asks Jesus, and Peter replies, “He is the Son of God.” Jesus will make the same connection before the high priest: “You have said so. But I tell you: from now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven” (Mt 26:63). Here there is no longer any room for error: God reveals himself not as power and majesty, but as Love entrusted into the hands of humankind. As soon as Peter discovers who Jesus is,  Jesus entrusts him with a mission  for the Church: ‘You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church’. The Son of Man is a people, not an isolated individual.  On what does Christ—God made man—build his Church? On Peter, a fragile person whose only virtue is having listened to what the Father revealed to him. The sole pillar of the Church is faith in Jesus Christ.  ‘I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven: whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven’. This does not mean that Peter and his successors are omnipotent. It means that God is committed to them. If we remain in communion with the Church, we are in communion with God. The final reassurance is that Christ builds the Church, and herein lies the ultimate reason for our trust: Jesus says, ‘I will build my Church’. It is not our task to build it, but only to listen to what the living God wishes to reveal to us. And because it is the risen Christ, the Son of the living God, who builds it, we can be certain: “The gates of hell shall not prevail against it”.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

                                                                                                                                                         The ham.

The Treccani dictionary defines ‘ham’ as: ‘one who acts in theatrical performances’. In common parlance and in a figurative sense: ‘someone who adopts exaggeratedly theatrical behaviour in life; someone who puts on a show in a blatant and undignified manner’.

Many years ago, when I was still a teenager, Charles Aznavour released a beautiful song containing these words: ‘I am a ham. But genius was born with me […] but theatricality flows within me’.

A song which, if I’m not mistaken, was later covered by Massimo Ranieri some time later.

Perhaps those of us who are a bit older will also remember the original version.

A few days ago, I bumped into a young man with a VIP-like air about him, whom I’ve known since he was born.

He stopped, greeted me warmly and began telling me about his life, his work in the world of politics and his travels.

He said that one of his goals is to visit the wonders of the world and that he’d just returned from one such destination. He solemnly declared that he’d already visited several of them.

All this without me having asked anything, partly because he didn’t give me the chance. 

He was too caught up in his soliloquy and I was merely a spectator.

At the end of his speech, he tells me that he has completed dental treatment for a tooth that had been causing him a great deal of trouble and that he is still in pain […] he lists the medicines he is taking. Then he looks at me and ironically reiterates that when doctors encounter difficulties in their work, they always say it’s down to the mind.

And here came a thunderous laugh, coupled with all the ‘pathos’ with which he’d woven his narrative.

The only thing missing was the final round of applause, which didn’t come. Just a cordial ‘goodbye’.                                                                          My professional bias kicked in as I reflected on what had happened.

There are people who, rather than simply connecting with others, need to put on a show and seek the approval of others.   

This is something we all do to a certain extent, within acceptable limits, and it gives us pleasure. Such people sometimes go in search of an ‘audience’ where they can express and display their feelings and experiences, without worrying about building a relationship or a genuine connection – and once they have communicated their emotions, they leave quickly, often in search of another ‘audience’. 

They must always be the centre of attention and often express their emotions in a  theatrical manner. Everything they achieve is something grand; all their actions are ‘a triumph’.

Behind this behaviour, there is usually an enormous fear of being alone, of being abandoned. Of course, we all have these fears to some extent, but we do not resort to compensatory mechanisms of that sort.

Sometimes we are afraid of certain emotions we feel, as if we feared that what we are feeling is unhealthy. 

We must always bear in mind that what happens within our psyche is not entirely random or pathological, but purposeful and constructive. There are not only demons; there are angels too.

I can’t recall whether I’ve already expressed this idea, but I’ll reiterate it because I consider it important and because I think we’ll be less frightened if we realise we’re experiencing certain feelings.

Without referring to psychological manuals or classifications… we’ve all probably experienced feelings like those described above at certain times in our lives.

People with these characteristics are ‘theatrical’ and express their experiences in an exaggerated manner.

They can be seductive or even provocative.

They use their physical appearance in an exaggerated way to get noticed and appear interesting.

They rely more on emotion than on reflection, and tend towards superficiality and banality.

They are also easily influenced and idealise the people they admire; sometimes to the point of imitating them.

They dream of ideal love, but often become involved in unsuitable and unattainable relationships.

They exaggerate every physical sensation, even when there is no actual physical pain.

In severe cases, many people channel and project these emotions onto parts of the body that are psychologically significant to the individual and their personal history.

And so, as the young VIP mentioned above humorously put it, the psyche comes into play.

I do not wish to bore readers or come across as melodramatic myself, but many individuals have often expressed their unease through their bodies.

Some do so more visibly, others in a more subtle way – though perhaps more interesting and fascinating to an ‘insider’.

The literature often refers to ‘hysterical blindness’.

These people are unable to see properly – to a greater or lesser degree. I recall a teenager with visual problems being referred to our department’s psychological assessment (sent by the ophthalmology department).

However, it is not always accepted that objective problems may have an ‘internal’ cause, and so often either the psychological assessment – deemed offensive – is abandoned, or other solutions are sought that may give the illusion of a way out.

It also happens that some individuals, having been referred for an ‘internal’ assessment by leading Italian centres of excellence, but subsequently rejecting what was suggested to them, turn to private practitioners who offer solutions that are, unfortunately, sometimes harmful.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi, Psychologist and Psychotherapist.

House on the Rock or practitioners of vain things

(Mt 7:21-29)

Pope Francis said: «In order to give Himself to us, God often chooses unthinkable paths, perhaps those of our limits, our tears, our defeats».

Hasty builders are content to build directly on the ground; paying attention only to what is seen and experienced (on the spot). They do not dig the house to the core - deep down, in the gold of themselves.

In the inner world everything is reversed: the primacy is of Grace, which displaces, because it takes into account only the essential, inexplicable reality - and our dignified autonomy.

«Too pure water has no fish» [Ts'ai Ken T'an]. Accepting ourselves will complete us: it will make us recover the co-present sides, opposite and shadowed. It is the leap of the deep Faith.

With the entire Sermon on the Mount - which is coming to an end - Jesus aims to arouse in people a critical conscience about banal and external solutions, something common among the leaders of ancient religiosity.

To build a new Kingdom, the public liturgies abounding in beautiful signs and resounding social greetings are not enough - not even the most striking gifts.

False security is what makes you feel quiet. There is no sick or inmate worse than the one who thinks he is healthy, arrived and not infected: only here there is no therapy, nor revival.

It will be seen in the moment of the storm, when it will be evident the need to translate the personal relationship with the Lord into life, starting from the ability to welcome gambling.

Merits not grounded in intimately firm beliefs will not hold the whirlwind of trial.

«Practitioner of vain things» that is inconsistent [it is the meaning of the Greek text that introduces the Gospel passage (v.23)].

They are the standard-bearers of an empty spirituality, who despite the paint - with even spectacular sides - have nothing to do with God.

Are there foundations behind a front of butterflies? You understand it in the storm, and if you become «rock» even for the invisible - not tourists of the "spirit" who praise praise and do not risk.

Security does not come from adapting to customs and obligations, nor from being admired (at least) like others, which makes the Common House unhealthy.

Our specific and hallmark of the Faith is not an identity drawn from protocols or the manners - it plays on appearances and not on the only strong point: the attitude of pilgrims in Christ.

We are only firm in the prophetic royal priestly dignity, which is given to us in an unrepeatable Gift and will never be the fruit of deriving from consent.

We live to follow a deep Vocation: Root, Spring and Engine of our most intimate fibers; related to the dreams and naturalness of each one.

Only relying on the soul is an authentic platform, true salvation and medicine.

The Mission will reach the existential peripheries, starting from the Core.

It seems senseless, paradoxical, incredible, but for every Called the Rock on which he can and must build his way of taking the field... is Freedom.

[Thursday 12th wk. in O.T.  June 25, 2026]

House on the Rock or practitioners of vain things

(Mt 7:21-29)

Pope Francis said: "In order to give himself to us, God often chooses unthinkable paths, perhaps those of our limitations, our tears, our defeats.

The Lord's call is not Manichean, but profound.

Our behaviour has fascinating roots. Lights and shadows of our being remain in dynamic relationship.

At times, however, our discomforts or distortions are the result of an excess of 'light' - detached from its opposite. 

Such excess is willingly associated with the claim to exorcise the dark aspect in us, which we would like to conceal for social reasons.

It seems to us that the business card should only reflect our bright, loose, serious, and performing appearance.

Perhaps, a moral style all of a piece - at least at first glance.

However, those who become attached to their bright side and even try to promote it for reasons of look (also ecclesiastical), established culture, habit (also religious), run the risk of enhancing the other side.

Beware: in every man there is always a side that misfires, that fails; and not one-sidedly.

Perhaps it is precisely in those who preach the good that there is the most pronounced danger of neglecting its co-present opposite - which sooner or later will break through, will find its place.

Blowing up the whole house of cards. But to achieve something alternative and absolutely not contrived.

For those who embark on a path of 'perfection', their own counterpart only seems a danger.

And conditioned by the models, we continue to play [our] already identified 'part'.

Yet in the dark side are hidden resources that the light-only side does not have.

In the dark side we read our character seed.

Here is the therapy and healing of the discomforts that we rush to conceal (in the family, with friends, in the community, at work).

The dark aspects [selfishness, coldness, closure, introversion, sadness] lurk within; no point in denying it.

It is rather worth considering them as a source of characterising primordial energies.

It is indeed concealment - sometimes depression itself - that makes us fish for unimaginable solutions.

As if we were a grain planted in the earth, which wants its existence. And it finally wants natural life, which develops its capacities.

It is precisely the emotions that we dislike and ourselves detest - like the muddy, dark earth - that reconnect us with our deepest essence.

In short, the unpleasant emotional states will be the well from which other ideas, other guiding 'images', new insights; different sap come to us. And change.

Light does not possess all possibilities, all dynamism. On the contrary, it not infrequently seems to be declined [by the traditions themselves] in a fictitious, reductive way.

In chiaroscuro, conversely, we no longer pretend. For it is the foundation of the house of the soul.

All this we consider, for a solid harmony, which arises from within.

Paradoxes of the Personal Vocation: if we did not follow it to the full, we would continue to follow misconceptions, or the styles of others.

And we would become sick. Evil will take over.

If structured on an abstract, local, or bogus identity, this is where the storm could destroy everything.

In our trial and error, we must keep all aspects - which we have come to know over time, and realised are part of us - beside us.

This will change the solidity of our relationship with ourselves, others, nature, history, and the world.

Conformity between conduct and intention of the heart overcomes hypocrisy, but conformity between Word and life is not set up by practising automatisms, nor by surrendering to others' convictions.

In the post-lockdown we are realising this sharply.

It used to be thought that training (especially of the young) also chiselled the soul, and everything flowed naturally into choices; into means, results, external works, and even dreams: "Tell me what you do and I will tell you who you are".

Instead, qualitative attunement with the Mystery and the Word of Christ is not achieved by setting it up, but is found within (each of us) enigmatically, and from the depths - as a pure secret Gift, for creative independence.

Haste, fear of failure, the culture of concatenation and stability, intentions (even 'spiritual' ones) or, conversely, flattery of tranquillity; ambitions, cravings to be recognised, lack of detachment, ambition, fear of being excluded, difficulty in shifting one's gaze... all lead to ignorance of the Mystery.

Deprived of depth, we will be condemned not to dig deep even within ourselves; perpetually at the mercy of particular roles, of spheres and their events; of occasional or local relationships.

Hasty builders are content to build directly on the ground; looking only at what they see and experience (on the spur of the moment). They do not dig the house down to the ground - into the depths, into the gold of self.In the inner world and its hidden power, everything is overturned: the primacy is of Grace, which displaces, because it only takes into account the essential, inexplicable reality - and our dignified autonomy.

The rest will unfortunately be destined to collapse ruinously, because it does not remain grounded in the Word, in character (albeit magmatic, but strongly potential)... nor in the vocational relationship with God and things, or in the most genuine communion (conviviality and shared richness of differences).

We experience a laceration, even in times of emergency: the inner world is stronger and more convincing, yet the outer world does not want to give way to the immediate goals. Indeed, we are still drawn to them.

But the latter we know well that they do not reactivate any stage of specific weight, as our young inner being does spontaneously - almost like a baby we carry in gestation.

Generally speaking, even on the 'spiritual' path we immediately fall into the coveted character we would like to be: here we do not grow, we are only turned on by futilities, nor do we realise that they are not our 'owners'.

Of course, the immediate external goal does not suffer the wait of the long necessary evolution of having to give birth to oneself (even in anguish and loneliness) stage after stage; which is activated and reactivated without comfort and security.

Yet we are born to take flight, not to tracing and becoming photocopies in the soul.

Thus all that is valuable will be in the oscillation, because a path of personal specific weight is configured according to the gift of our uniqueness.

And uniqueness will be achieved in the process of every side of us, of every side of the personality - even apparently petty or sketchy; even unflattering from the point of view of religious tranquillity (which will also have had its value).

Jesus does not intend to distinguish the good from the bad [cf. vv.15-20 and the parallel passage in Lk 6:43-45] in a trivial way: he wants us to live fully, in integral oneness, and perceive well.

The Lord does not propose an imprisoned destiny; rather, a reversal of meaning.

His is an admonition to sharpen our gaze, and set it within - not leave it outside, to observe ephemeral results, those of obviousness and hype; and then stop, don't experience too many jolts... as if we were in a relaxation zone.

The Unit of measurement in Christ is not the immediately perceptible to the eye, nor is it 'progress' per se, but rather: 'the value of every part'.

It is precisely the awareness of limitation that becomes a transformative principle in us. And every imperfection calls to Exodus.

To deny one's boundaries is to allow oneself to be hijacked by common views, devoid of Mystery - with horizons reduced to a single 'word'.

It is e.g. the severe crisis that stimulates the upheaval of an ostentatious but competitive and dehumanising system (also economic), with corrupt inner principles - although they once appeared to us as absolutes.

Why not be content, if we roughly manage? Because forced identification has taken away freedom, even the freedom to admit that we are made of light and shadow.

It is not disturbance that deprives women and men of eloquent vocational emancipation.

Even each one who beats his chest, does so in a particular way; and recognises himself in symbiosis with his own Name.

Then to each age of life - as to each era - touches its 'sin', which is not a monster but a symptom that speaks precisely of the personal, moral, cultural, social Calling.

Even if one does not like it, the oscillation must be understood, not criticised and accused.

I would even say welcomed and re-elaborated - not simplistically rejected, with attitudes of artificial distance or gestures of ambiguous virtue, which make one external and return to the starting point.

Today, the lack of complete life and beautiful relationships, the general upheaval, the restlessness of the soul - the nervousness, the dissatisfaction - force us to abandon both the ancient and fascinating devotional securities and the disembodied 'à la page' sophistications.

All in favour of concrete and personal situations, in the horizon of the unrepeatable vocation and the leap of Faith that opens up to coexistence.

"Too pure water has no fish" [Ts'ai Ken T'an].

Accepting ourselves without reserve will introduce us into a dizzying, awe-inspiring experience: with the amazement produced by the recovery of co-present, opposite and shadowed sides. As many as brothers and sisters.

Perhaps we will find that they are the most activating and fruitful.

Not the ethics of perfection and homologated distinctions, but the vituperated chaos and our inner demons will paradoxically become the best companions along the way, and the only true ones; coryphaeans of an astonishing Mission.

After all, works are the fruit of our thoughts and desires. The latter certainly also spring from a good, varied training, but not in a mechanical sense.

It is also crucial here not to be foiled. Bad discernment destroys the authentic Rock, which coincides with one's spontaneous Guidance to completeness.

The stable foundation of our itinerary is the Freedom to accept and the Freedom to correspond to the unrepeatable character - our own - of the instinct to fulfil ourselves.

In fact, Jesus detaches himself not only from ancient religion, but even from the - rather crude - messianic strands of early times (e.g. Jas 3:11-12).

This is not why the Master denies the profound spirit of the ancient Holy Scriptures, indeed he captures their heart: Qo 3:14; 7:13-18; Sir 37:13-15 [and many other passages (unbelievable for the mentality in which we have been educated)].

So it is not enough to say: 'Lord, Lord' (vv.21-22). It is not enough to formally recognise the Son of God.

One must sift through his call in being, make it one's own and understand it fully, so that it is not corrupted and disfigured into inessential forms of puerile external conformity.

In insecurity, many people demand expressions of power, seek overt strength; they settle for moral paradigms, look for forms of immediate assurance, or crave renowned guides (who perpetuate and comfort their defensive path).

Paralysing illusions... even in the path of Faith.

On this path one does not build expected happiness, nor any solidity at all, but day after day one's own sadness - as is evident from too many events, finally from the most occult forms of compensation (now unmasked).

There is no guru who can put things right at the root.

Our Seed is what it is: it is necessary to discover its virtues, even and especially the unexpected ones - which derive from the essence and magmatic and plastic forms of even opposing energies.

It is useless to 'cure' oneself according to a conformist homologation that does not belong to the personal Core.

The soul has an autonomous life, suspending contexts, distances; it exists within and also outside the passing of time - like Love. 

Everyone is a multiplicity of co-existing faces - to be given space for greater wholeness.

This matters, and allying oneself with one's limits: embracing what the surrounding environment or the conventionalist cultural paradigm - which defends its territory - deems perhaps inconclusive (so on).

We preside over other boundaries.

What we do not like is perhaps our best part.

In any case, giving voice to tensions means finally being able to name them, to accommodate them worthily - so that they have fuller joys.

And let them cross the threshold of the joy of living, hence of authentic reliability.

By sweeping away the anxiety of imperfection, we will find a more harmonious, energetic steadiness.

By embracing frailties along with rebellions, we will not live half-heartedly; on the contrary, we will experience fullness of being (vital and snappy).

By not feeling trapped all the time, we will be able to fly away.

But that certain tranquil situations are counterfeit narrowness and cut-offs of the soul, we can realise at once: in the radical discomforts that surface.

Many continue in vain to seek futile confirmations: in the search for extraordinary gifts or in the meticulousness of observances.

However, this is not the pedagogy that educates and launches life in the Spirit out of extrinsic mechanisms.

Nor is it enough to truly overcome the storms by 'doing God's will' (in a disciplined but) unfriendly self-consciousness.

No form of inculcated exteriority can convince us.

Let alone make us become a 'rock' - or small bulwark - to persuade, capacitate, strengthen others.

The difference between common religiosity and personal faith?

Life in the humanising and divine condition of preciousness opens up varied paths - of abysses even, but full of inner experiences; of unimaginable quests and discoveries, where we can be ourselves.

In the sphere of Faith, there are no longer sacred times, places, knowledge, models - all epidermal, if plastered - that are not also unprecedented and personal.

Union with the Lord, the Rock from which we have been as if cut and extracted, is not a track or a groove, but a fundamental option.

It leaves a free rein on the particular inclination and colour of each one.

With the entire Sermon on the Mount - here at the end of the day - Jesus aims at arousing in people a critical consciousness about trivial and external solutions. This is common among the leaders of ancient popular and official religiosity.

To build a new kingdom, public liturgies overflowing with beautiful signs with the right creed, and resounding social obsequies - not even the most conspicuous gifts - are not enough.

False security is that of those who profess ... but perform only conformist acts and reflect aligned ideas - so they feel OK.

There is no sick person or recluse worse than the one who considers himself healthy, arrived and uninfected: only here there is no therapy, no revival.This will be seen at the time of the storm, when the need to translate the personal relationship with the Lord into life, starting with oneself and the ability to accept the gamble of Love, will become evident.

Merits not rooted in intimately firm convictions - gestures produced by intrigue, calculation and contrived attitudes - will not withstand the whirlwind of the test.

"Practitioners of vain things", that is, inconsistent [this is the meaning of the Greek text that introduces the Gospel passage (v.23)] are the standard-bearers of an empty spirituality, which despite its varnish, with even spectacular sides, has nothing to do with God.

Conveniently, the 'masters' who stand in the way of the personal implications seem willing to go back on any adherence, plotting the reversal of their own proclamations - because they are prisoners in merit (instead of as they appear: leaders).

They do not yet reveal the divine Face, but rather a calculating, qualunquistic opposite.

They live to get by - along with the club to which they belong - and obtain only immediate recognition, obsequiousness, and alms of consensus around them.

And this despite the great disciplines of censorship that they advocate:

They do not correct the separation between teaching and personal commitment: they may preach the true God and (always) great things every day - but as if by trade.

The intriguers multiply formulas and symbolic gestures, like soporific drugs... but they are the first not to believe what they say and repeatedly impose on others.

Full of obtuse pretensions on people, they do not understand the Father, God of the desperate, exiled and mocked, who resurrects the non-elect - the deprived of a future; not the insured for life, commanded by self-interest and appearance.

Are there foundations behind a façade of butterflies? One understands this in the storm, and if one becomes a 'rock' even for the invisible - not tourists of the 'spirit' who praise praise and do not risk.

Therefore, security does not come from conforming to customs and fulfilments, nor from being admired (at least) as much as others. Fiction that makes the common house unhealthy.

Our specific and figure of Faith is not a 'cultural' identity drawn from protocols or manners - a plot that plays on appearances and not on the one strong point: the attitude of pilgrims in Christ.

We are steadfast only in the priestly prophetic royal dignity, which is given as an unrepeatable gift and will never be the result of deriving from consensus.

Nor of appearing, of saying and not saying, of building ourselves up; of adapting to the forces in the field, of struggling to float.

We live to follow a profound Vocation: Root, Spring and Motor of our intimate fibres; related to the dreams and naturalness of each one.

Only trusting the soul is an authentic platform, true salvation and medicine.

The Mission will reach the existential peripheries, starting from the Core.

It seems senseless, paradoxical, unbelievable, but for every Called One the Rock on which he can build his way is Freedom.

To internalise and live the message:

When the storm hits your house, do you imagine a great fall? What is the rock on which your community is built? Is it interested in your naturalness or does it want to conform to you?

Do you know people with strong prophetic, apostolic or thaumaturgical activity, who give the feeling of a familiarity with God that is only extraordinary or circumstantial, perhaps apparent?

What is the reason, in your opinion? Do you think they have ever really surrendered to themselves and the quintessence of their Calling by Name?

Dear Young Friends,

I offer all of you my warmest welcome! Your presence makes me happy. I thank the Lord for this cordial meeting. We know that “where two or three are gathered in the name of Jesus, he is in their midst” (cf. Mt 18:20). Today, you are much more numerous! Accordingly, Jesus is here with us. He is present among the young people of Poland, speaking to them of a house that will never collapse because it is built on the rock. This is the Gospel that we have just heard (cf. Mt 7:24-27).

My friends, in the heart of every man there is the desire for a house. Even more so in the young person’s heart there is a great longing for a proper house, a stable house, one to which he can not only return with joy, but where every guest who arrives can be joyfully welcomed. There is a yearning for a house where the daily bread is love, pardon and understanding. It is a place where the truth is the source out of which flows peace of heart. There is a longing for a house you can be proud of, where you need not be ashamed and where you never fear its loss. These longings are simply the desire for a full, happy and successful life. Do not be afraid of this desire! Do not run away from this desire! Do not be discouraged at the sight of crumbling houses, frustrated desires and faded longings. God the Creator, who inspires in young hearts an immense yearning for happiness, will not abandon you in the difficult construction of the house called life.

My friends, this brings about a question: “How do we build this house?” Without doubt, this is a question that you have already faced many times and that you will face many times more. Every day you must look into your heart and ask: “How do I build that house called life?” Jesus, whose words we just heard in the passage from the evangelist Matthew, encourages us to build on the rock. In fact, it is only in this way that the house will not crumble. But what does it mean to build a house on the rock? Building on the rock means, first of all, to build on Christ and with Christ. Jesus says: “Every one then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house upon the rock” (Mt 7:24). These are not just the empty words of some person or another; these are the words of Jesus. We are not listening to any person: we are listening to Jesus. We are not asked to commit to just anything; we are asked to commit ourselves to the words of Jesus.

To build on Christ and with Christ means to build on a foundation that is called “crucified love”. It means to build with Someone who, knowing us better than we know ourselves, says to us: “You are precious in my eyes and honoured, and I love you” (Is 43:4). It means to build with Someone, who is always faithful, even when we are lacking in faith, because he cannot deny himself (cf. 2 Tim 2:13). It means to build with Someone who constantly looks down on the wounded heart of man and says: “ I do not condemn you, go and do not sin again” (cf. Jn 8:11). It means to build with Someone who, from the Cross, extends his arms and repeats for all eternity: “O man, I give my life for you because I love you.” In short, building on Christ means basing all your desires, aspirations, dreams, ambitions and plans on his will. It means saying to yourself, to your family, to your friends, to the whole world and, above all to Christ: “Lord, in life I wish to do nothing against you, because you know what is best for me. Only you have the words of eternal life” (cf. Jn 6:68). My friends, do not be afraid to lean on Christ! Long for Christ, as the foundation of your life! Enkindle within you the desire to build your life on him and for him! Because no one who depends on the crucified love of the Incarnate Word can ever lose.

To build on the rock means to build on Christ and with Christ, who is the rock. In the First Letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul, speaking of the journey of the chosen people through the desert, explains that all “drank from the supernatural rock, which followed them, and the rock was Christ” (1 Cor 10:4). The fathers of the Chosen People certainly did not know that the rock was Christ. They were not aware of being accompanied by him who in the fulness of time would become incarnate and take on a human body. They did not need to understand that their thirst would be satiated by the very Source of life, capable of offering the living water which quenches every heart. Nonetheless, they drank from this spiritual rock that is Christ, because they yearned for this living water, and needed it. On the road of life we may sometimes not be aware of Jesus’ presence. However, it is really this presence, living and true, in the work of creation, in the Word of God and in the Eucharist, in the community of believers and in every man redeemed by the precious Blood of Christ, which is the inexhaustible source of human strength. Jesus of Nazareth, God made Man, is beside us during the good times and the bad times and he thirsts for this relationship, which is, in reality, the foundation of authentic humanity. We read in the book of Revelation these important words: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come to him and eat with him, and he with me” (Rev 3:20).

My friends, what does it mean to build on the rock? Building on the rock also means building on Someone who was rejected. Saint Peter speaks to the faithful of Christ as a “living stone rejected by men but in God’s sight chosen and precious” (1 Pet 2:4). The undeniable fact of the election of Jesus by God does not conceal the mystery of evil, whereby man is able to reject Him who has loved to the very end. This rejection of Jesus by man, which Saint Peter mentions, extends throughout human history, even to our own time. One does not need great mental acuity to be aware of the many ways of rejecting Christ, even on our own doorstep. Often, Jesus is ignored, he is mocked and he is declared a king of the past who is not for today and certainly not for tomorrow. He is relegated to a storeroom of questions and persons one dare not mention publicly in a loud voice. If in the process of building the house of your life you encounter those who scorn the foundation on which you are building, do not be discouraged! A strong faith must endure tests. A living faith must always grow. Our faith in Jesus Christ, to be such, must frequently face others’ lack of faith.

Dear friends, what does it mean to build on the rock? Building on the rock means being aware that there will be misfortunes. Christ says: “The rain fell and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon the house ... ” (Mt 7:25). These natural phenomena are not only an image of the many misfortunes of the human lot, but they also indicate that such misfortunes are normally to be expected. Christ does not promise that a downpour will never inundate a house under construction, he does not promise that a devastating wave will never sweep away that which is most dear to us, he does not promise that strong winds will never carry away what we have built, sometimes with enormous sacrifice. Christ not only understands man’s desire for a lasting house, but he is also fully aware of all that can wreck man’s happiness. Do not be surprised therefore by misfortunes, whatever they may be! Do not be discouraged by them! An edifice built on the rock is not the same as a building removed from the forces of nature, which are inscribed in the mystery of man. To have built on rock means being able to count on the knowledge that at difficult times there is a reliable force upon which you can trust.

My friends, allow me to ask again: what does it mean to build on the rock? It means to build wisely. It is not without reason that Jesus compares those who hear his words and put them into practice to a wise man who has built his house on the rock. It is foolish, in fact, to build on sand, when you can do so on rock and therefore have a house that is capable of withstanding every storm. It is foolish to build a house on ground that that does not offer the guarantee of support during the most difficult times. Maybe it is easier to base one’s life on the shifting sands of one’s own worldview, building a future far from the word of Jesus and sometimes even opposed to it. Be assured that he who builds in this way is not prudent, because he wants to convince himself and others that in his life no storm will rage and no wave will strike his house. To be wise means to know that the solidity of a house depends on the choice of foundation. Do not be afraid to be wise; that is to say, do not be afraid to build on the rock!

My friends, once again: what does it mean to build on the rock? Building on the rock also means to build on Peter and with Peter. In fact the Lord said to him: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it” (Mt 16:18). If Christ, the Rock, the living and precious stone, calls his Apostle “rock”, it means that he wants Peter, and together with him the entire Church, to be a visible sign of the one Saviour and Lord. Here, in Kraków, the beloved city of my Predecessor John Paul II, no one is astonished by the words “to build with Peter and on Peter”. For this reason I say to you: do not be afraid to build your life on the Church and with the Church. You are all proud of the love you have for Peter and for the Church entrusted to him. Do not be fooled by those who want to play Christ against the Church. There is one foundation on which it is worthwhile to build a house. This foundation is Christ. There is only one rock on which it is worthwhile to place everything. This rock is the one to whom Christ said: “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church” (Mt 16:18). Young people, you know well the Rock of our times. Accordingly, do not forget that neither that Peter who is watching our gathering from the window of God the Father, nor this Peter who is now standing in front of you, nor any successive Peter will ever be opposed to you or the building of a lasting house on the rock. Indeed, he will offer his heart and his hands to help you construct a life on Christ and with Christ.

Dear friends, meditating on Christ’s words describing the rock as an adequate foundation for a house, we cannot help but notice that the last word is a hopeful one. Jesus says that, notwithstanding the harshness of the elements, the house is not destroyed, because it was built on the rock. In his word there is an extraordinary confidence in the strength of the foundation, a faith that does not fear contradictions because it is confirmed by the death and resurrection of Christ. This is the faith that years later was professed by Saint Peter in his letter: “ Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious, and he who believes in him will not be put to shame” (1 Pet 2:6). Certainly “he will not be put to shame.” Dear young friends, the fear of failure can at times frustrate even the most beautiful dreams. It can paralyze the will, making one incapable of believing that it is really possible to build a house on the rock. It can convince one that the yearning for such a house is only a childish aspiration and not a plan for life. Together with Jesus, say to this fear: “A house founded on the rock cannot collapse!” Together with Saint Peter say to the temptation to doubt: “He who believes in Christ will not be put to shame!” You are all witnesses to hope, to that hope which is not afraid to build the house of one’s own life because it is certain that it can count on the foundation that will never crumble: Jesus Christ our Lord.

[Pope Benedict, Address to young people Krakow 27 May 2006]

3. What does Christ say in this regard in the Gospel we have heard today? At the end of the Sermon on the Mount he said: “Everyone who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house upon the rock; and the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat upon that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded upon the rock” (Mt 7:24-25). The opposite of the man who built on the rock is the man who built upon sand. The house he built could not stand. Faced with trials and difficulties, it fell. This is what Christ teaches us.

A house built upon rock. The building that is one’s life. How should it be built so that it does not collapse under the pressure of this world’s events? How should this building be built so that from being an “earthly dwelling” it may become “a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens” (2 Cor 5:1)? Today we hear the reply to these fundamental questions of faith: at the basis of the Christian building there is the hearing and keeping of the word of Christ. And in speaking of “the word of Christ” we have in mind not only his teaching, the parables and promises, but also his works, the signs, the miracles. And above all his Death, the Resurrection and the Descent of the Holy Spirit. Further still: we have in mind the Son of God himself, the eternal Word of the Father, in the mystery of the Incarnation: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (Jn 1:14).

[Pope John Paul II, Biskupia Góra (Pelplin), 6 June 1999]

To base one's life "on the rock of God" and on the "concreteness" of acting and giving oneself, rather than "on appearances or vanity" or on the corrupt culture of "recommendations". This is the indication that Pope Francis suggested - during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Thursday, 6 December - for living the Advent journey coherently.

Simple and challenging guidelines at the same time, which the Pontiff drew from the readings of the day, in which there are three significant groups of opposing words: "saying and doing", "sand and rock", "high and low".

Regarding the first group - "saying and doing" - the Pontiff immediately recalled the words of Matthew's Gospel (7:21): "Not everyone who says to me 'Lord, Lord' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of the Father". And he explained: 'One enters the kingdom of heaven, one matures spiritually, one goes forward in the Christian life by doing, not by saying'. In fact, 'saying is a way of believing, but sometimes very superficial, halfway': as when 'I say I am a Christian but I don't do the things of a Christian'. It is a sort of 'making up', because 'just saying, is a trick', it is 'saying without doing'.

Instead, "the proposal of Jesus is concreteness". And so, "when someone approached and asked for advice", he proposed "always concrete things". Moreover, the Pope added, "the works of mercy are concrete". And again: "Jesus did not say: 'But go to your home and think of the poor, think of the prisoners, think of the sick': no. Go: visit them'.

Here is the contrast between doing and saying. Necessary to highlight because 'many times we slip, not only personally but socially, into the culture of saying'. In this regard, Francis pointed to an unfortunately widespread practice, that of the 'culture of recommendations'. It happens, for example, that for a competition at university "one who has almost no merit" is chosen over many good professors; "and if you ask: 'But why this one? And these other good ones?" - 'Because this one was recommended by a cardinal, you know... the big fish...'". This is the Pope's comment: 'I don't want to think bad, but under the table of a recommendation there is always an envelope'. This is just one example of the prevalence of 'saying': 'it's not the merits, it's not the doing that gets you ahead, no: it's the saying. Making up your life'. And it is precisely 'one of the contradictions that today's liturgy teaches us: to do, not to say'. Even, the Pope explained in closing this first part of the reflection, "Jesus advises" to "do without saying: when you give alms, when you pray... secretly, without saying it. Do, not say".

The second comparison refers to an image used by Jesus in the Gospel: 'a wise man builds his house on rock, not on sand'. The parable has its own evidence: 'The sand is not solid. And a storm, winds, rivers, many things, rain bring down a house built on sand. Sand is a weak concreteness'. The Pontiff explained: "Sand is the consequence of saying: I make myself up, as a Christian, I build a life but without foundations. Vanity, vanity is saying many things, or making myself appear without foundation, on sand'. Instead, one must 'build on rock'. In this regard, the Pope invited us to grasp the beauty of the first reading of the day, taken from Isaiah (26:1-6), where we read: "Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord is an eternal rock".

It is a closely related juxtaposition between saying and doing, because 'many times, he who trusts in the Lord does not appear, is not successful, is hidden... but is steadfast. He does not have his hope in saying, in vanity, in pride, in the ephemeral powers of life", but he trusts in the Lord, "the rock". Francis explained: 'The concreteness of the Christian life makes us go forward and build on that rock which is God, which is Jesus; on the solidity of divinity. Not on appearances or vanity, pride, recommendations.... No. Truth."

Finally the "third group", where the concepts of "high and low" are confronted. It is again the passage from Isaiah that guides the meditation: "Trust in the Lord always, for the Lord is an everlasting rock, for he has brought down those who dwell on high, he has overthrown the lofty city, he has razed it to the ground. The feet trample it down: they are the feet of the oppressed, the footsteps of the poor'. It is a passage, the Pontiff noted, that recalls the 'song of Our Lady, of the Magnificat: the Lord raises up the humble, those who are in the concreteness of every day, and brings down the proud, those who have built their lives on vanity, pride... these do not last'. And the expression, Francis emphasised, "is very strong, even in the Magnificat we use 'has overthrown', and even stronger: that great beautiful city is trampled underfoot. By whom? By the feet of the oppressed and the steps of the poor". That is, the Lord 'exalts the poor, exalts the lowly'.

The category of 'high and low', the Pope added in comment, is also used by Jesus, for example, when he 'speaks of Satan: "I have seen Satan fall from heaven". And it is the expression of a "definitive judgement on the proud, on the vain, on those who boast of being something but are pure air".

Concluding his homily, Francis invited us to accompany the Advent season with reflection on "these three groups of words that contrast one with the other. Say or do? Am I a Christian of saying or doing? Sand and rock: do I build my life on the rock of God or on the sand of worldliness, of vanity? High and low: am I humble, do I always try to go from the bottom, without pride, and thus serve the Lord?". It will help to answer such questions; and, he added, also to take the Gospel of Luke and pray "with Our Lady's song, with the Magnificat, which is a summary of this message today".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 06/12/2018]

Prophetic ardour, Salvation that does not repeat

(Lk 1:57-66.80)

Salvation - the cue for a full existence - runs through increasingly vast spaces and breaks into in a peremptory way, without ever repeating itself.

It does not ask for authoritative permits, nor does it wait for a beautiful swept and adorned dwelling.

It even enters the House (Israel) in which nothing was done but to commemorate, with no possibility of renewal and progress.

It transforms it, though scented with incense and pureness.

In that context, unfortunately, the Waiting had become a habit [to wait] that no longer expected anything.

The announcement of the new times, conversely, arouses contagious joys, a desire to make and affect the ancient habitual enclosure - in all aspects of mentality, suddenly no longer compliant.

Change ushers in an era of redemption: concretely, a life as people saved.

Trajectory now able to open loop holes on the great wall of conventions that bridle the freedom to be and to do.

Zechariah [«God makes memory»: the usual God and the usual memory] generates a Promise that is being fulfilled before the eyes.

Word-event that really visits the people - here and now, every dawn - imposing the «none of your kinship» (v.61) ie of the custom: here is Johanan [«God has made Grace»].

The Merciful Living One is no longer exactly that of the bloody and propitiatory cults at the Temple - but of the perspectives, of the deployed horizons. 

You find lightness. No conditioning blockage, no guilt sense for having diverted. In His proposals for dilated life, He is and remains «Favourable».

The Name to be imposed by ancient tradition conveyed a culture and a role (even) with sacred accents, reassuring.

By changing it, destiny is modified. Thus we does not fall into a garment, in a part to be recited; we grasp the essence of the expected Face.

The Eternal is not the One who invites to a series of identified roles to trace without respite: his unconditional initiatives offer every day a decisive field’s opening.

The Most High creates, and calls for development, for the better and further: the categories of possibilities are overflown!

The ancient barriers between Heaven and Earth, between Tradition and Manifestation, are about to fall in favor of a world prone to life.

Redemption begins to make sparks with textbook choices: they cannot stand each other anymore.

Even in our journey, accepting different horizons from the expected we allow the divine soul of salvation history to visit us.

This is so that the essence of our deep states detaches itself from the common judgment, and re-tunses on how much is still Unknown but we feel it belongs to us.

In each shift of gaze we will find another cosmos, a discreet, reserved Beauty - in which the Secret for each is nestled, a stage of complete realization for all.

Fulfilment is now «fortified in Spirit and in deserts» instead of according to manners and measure - in special places (v.80) from which one can push oneself out, even irregularly.

[Nativity of st. John the Baptist, 24 June]

Prophetic Ardour, Salvation that does not repeat

(Lk 1:57-66.80)

The new Creation announced in the periphery invests the territory that still hesitates over what is certified, proven and reassuring - because it is considered (around) pure and quoted.

Salvation - the cue for a full existence - travels ever wider spaces and breaks through in a peremptory manner, without ever repeating itself.

It does not ask for authoritative permission, nor does it wait for a beautifully swept and adorned dwelling.

It even enters the House (Israel) in which it did nothing but commemorate, with no possibility of renewal and progress.

He transforms it, albeit already perfumed with incense and purity.

In that sphere, unfortunately, the Waiting had turned into a habit [of waiting] that was no longer waiting for anything. One just held back, without much expectation.

On the contrary, the announcement of the new times arouses contagious joy, a desire to do and break the old habitual enclosure - in all aspects of mentality, suddenly no longer conforming.

The change ushers in an era of redemption: concretely, a life of the saved.

A trajectory now able to open up gaps in the great wall of conventions that bridle the freedom to be and to do.

Zechariah ["God makes memory": the usual God and memory] generates a Promise that is being fulfilled before our eyes.

Word-event that really visits the people - here and now, every dawn - imposing the "none of your kinship" (v.61) i.e. the custom - even priestly: here is Johanan ["God made Grace"].

The merciful Living One is no longer exactly that of the bloody and propitiatory cults in the Temple, but of perspectives, of unfolding horizons. 

One finds lightness. No conditioning blocks, no guilt for deviating. In His proposals of expanded life, He is and remains "Favourable".

The Name to be imposed by ancient custom conveyed a culture and a role (even) with sacred, reassuring veins.

Changing it changes destiny. One does not cast oneself in a robe, in a part to be played; one grasps the essence of the awaited Face.

The Eternal One is not the One who invites a series of pious and archaic identified ritual customs, to be followed relentlessly. His unconditional initiatives provide a decisive opening of the field every day.

The Most High creates and calls for development, for the best and the further super-eminent: the categories of possibility are surpassed!

The ancient barriers between Heaven and Earth, between Tradition and Manifestation, are about to fall, in favour of a world inclined to life.

Redemption begins to spark with textbook choices.

Writes the Tao Tê Ching (xix), which deems the most celebrated virtues external: 

"Teach that there is more to stick to: show yourself simple and keep yourself raw".

Master Wang Pi comments: 'Formal qualities are totally insufficient'.

And Master Ho-shang Kung adds: 'Forget the regular and the creation of saints, return to what was at the Beginning'.

Even on our path, by accepting horizons other than the expected, we allow the divine soul of salvation history to visit us.

This is so that the essence of our deepest states can detach itself from common judgement, and re-tune to what is still Unknown rather than useful - but we feel belongs to us.

In each shift of gaze we find another cosmos, a discreet, reserved Beauty.

It leads back to our natural Core, to the Calling by Name in which lurks the Secret for each one, and a stage of full realisation for all.

The Fulfillment is now "fortified in Spirit and in deserts" instead of according to custom, measured - in the deputed places of the priestly liturgy (v.80) from which one must push oneself out, even irregularly.

To internalise and live the message:

How many times have you heard that you are not doing well?

How do you realise the timing of God's change?

What astonishment have you experienced in your spiritual journey?

What difference have you measured against your expectations and intentions?

How do you plan to build your dignity as an outrider?

What principle of discernment is used in your community? Do you start from your unrepeatable Vocation or is there an addictive and homologising cliché, other names that you have to repeat and copy?

"What do you think he will become, this son of mine?" [by Teresa Girolami]

Today's Gospel presents us with the birth of John, the prophet of Christ, and the amazement of onlookers:

"What shall this child be? And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him" (Lk 1:66).

In the life of Francis, from his birth, a visible sign of God's predilection was manifested on him and his mother Mona Pica.

The Sources make this clear:

"In fact, she was made to share, as a privilege, a certain resemblance to the ancient Saint Elizabeth, both by the name imposed on her son and also by the prophetic spirit.When neighbours expressed their admiration for Francis' generosity of spirit and moral integrity she would repeat, almost divinely inspired:

"What do you think he will become, this son of mine? Know, that by his merits he will become a son of God'.

Indeed, this was also the opinion of others, who appreciated Francis as already grown up for some of his very good inclinations.

He shunned anything that might sound offensive to anyone and, growing up with a gentle spirit, he did not appear to be a son of those who were called his parents.

Therefore the name of John is appropriate to the mission he then carried out, that of Francis to his fame, which soon spread everywhere after his full conversion to God.

Above the feast of any other saint, he held that of John the Baptist to be most solemn, whose distinguished name had imprinted in his soul a sign of arcane power.

Among those born of women there arose none greater than this, and none more perfect than this among the founders of religious orders. It is a coincidence worthy of note' (FF 583).

[Teresa Girolami].

According to which image and likeness?

Our gaze goes to Giulio Romano's painting above the high altar of this church: it shows the Holy Family, with John the Baptist still a child, the Apostle James and the Evangelist Mark, the latter already adults.

The Baptist briskly points with his left hand to the Child Jesus, depicted in his infantile weakness. To the question of the relatives and neighbours of Elizabeth and Zechariah: "What is to become of this child?" the painting seems to give us this answer: John the Baptist points with all his attitude to Jesus to the visitor James who is close to him; he bows deeply in the awareness of his littleness: I am not worthy to untie the strap of the sandal to him who comes after me, but who is before me. This word has nothing to do with false humility. The Baptist is too upright, too sober for that. He certainly recognised human helplessness better than most men.

The preacher of penitence who questions men in their innermost being, who shakes them out of their certainties and transforms them, who snatches them from the superficiality of a purely earthly materialistic attitude, still belongs to the Old Covenant, he is just the one who points the way to the Kingdom of God; and this Kingdom of God is near, one hears the voice of the one who calls in the wilderness. The Baptist's humility is authentic. But God exalted the littleness of the Baptist with the greatness of the task entrusted to him; indeed, he had already exalted him in his mother's womb: before he was even born, he was in fact already 'reborn' by the Spirit of Christ. Human greatness is nothing compared to the smallness that is called to participate in the greatness and holiness of God.

For us priests, John is a model. He seeks nothing for himself, but everything for the one he now points to. The child already represents in a certain way the word transmitted to us in the fourth Gospel: "He must increase and I must decrease" (John 3: 30). John was to lead men to Jesus and bear witness [...].

John and the story of his life are like a slide on which a name and a truth are indicated. It remains dark until a source of light is lit behind it. Thus says the Gospel of John: 'He was not the light, but he was to bear witness to the light' (John 1: 8). The light of God is decisive in his life and mission. By its light we become seers, to recognise God's will. This is often contrary to our desires and our own will. When it came to naming the newborn John at his circumcision, tradition was decisive: he would receive his father's name. But Elisabeth decided otherwise. She knew God's will and gave the child the name 'John', which means 'God is merciful'.

Why should it have been so only then?

We can all experience the power and goodness of God in our lives when we trust in him and strive earnestly to do his will. But this requires from us humility and the realisation that man does not possess the measure of all things. We cannot see ourselves as the yardstick of every thought, every morality and every right. We too easily succumb to the belief that everything can be made, heaven as well as earth, indeed man himself, according to our own image and likeness.

[Pope John Paul II, S. Maria dell'Anima homily 24 June 1990].