Being Christians, we know that the future is ours and the tree of the Church is not a tree that is dying but a tree that constantly puts out new shoots. Therefore we have a reason not to let ourselves be upset, as Pope John said, by the prophets of doom who say: well, the Church is a tree that grew from the mustard seed, grew for two thousand years, now she has time behind her, it is now time for her to die. No. The Church is ever renewed, she is always reborn. The future belongs to us. Of course, there is a false optimism and a false pessimism. A false pessimism tells us that the epoch of Christianity is over. No: it is beginning again! The false optimism was the post-Council optimism, when convents closed, seminaries closed and they said “but... nothing, everything is fine!”.... No! Everything is not fine. There are also serious, dangerous omissions and we have to recognize with healthy realism that in this way things are not all right, it is not all right when errors are made. However, we must also be certain at the same time that if, here and there, the Church is dying because of the sins of men and women, because of their non-belief, at the same time she is reborn. The future really belongs to God: this is the great certainty of our life, the great, true optimism that we know. The Church is the tree of God that lives for ever and bears within her eternity and the true inheritance: eternal life.

[Pope Benedict at the Roman Seminary, 8 February 2013]

2. Jesus says: "The Kingdom of God is like a man who sows a seed in the earth: sleep or wake, night or day, the seed germinates and grows; how, he himself does not know. For the earth produces spontaneously, first the stalk, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. When the fruit is ready, immediately you put your hand to the sickle, because the harvest has come" (Mk 4:26-29). So the Kingdom of God grows here on earth, in human history, by virtue of an initial sowing, that is, of a foundation, which comes from God, and of a mysterious working of God himself, which continues to cultivate the Church down the centuries. In God's work for the Kingdom, the sickle of sacrifice is also present: the development of the Kingdom is not achieved without suffering. This is the meaning of the parable in Mark's Gospel.

3. We also find the same concept in other parables, especially those gathered in Matthew's text (Mt 13:3-50).

"The kingdom of heaven," we read in this Gospel, "can be compared to a mustard seed, which a man takes and sows in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown, it is larger than all the other seeds and becomes a tree, so that the birds of heaven nestle among its branches" (Mt 13:31). This is the growth of the kingdom in the "extensive" sense.

Another parable, on the other hand, shows its growth in an "intensive" or qualitative sense, comparing it to the yeast, which a woman took and mixed with three measures of flour so that it all fermented" (Mt 13:32).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 25 September 1991]

Do Christians 'really believe' in the 'power of the Holy Spirit' within them? And do they have the courage to "sow the seed", to get involved, or do they take refuge in a "pastoral of conservation" that does not let "the Kingdom of God grow"? These are the questions posed by Pope Francis during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Tuesday 31 October, in which he outlined a horizon of "hope", for each individual man and for the Church as a community: that of the full realisation of the Kingdom of God, which has two pillars: the disruptive "force" of the Spirit and the "courage" to let this force be unleashed.

The cue came to the Pontiff from the reading of the Gospel passage (Luke 13:18-21) in which "it seems that Jesus struggles a bit: 'But how can I explain the Kingdom of God? To what can I compare it?"" and uses "two simple examples from everyday life": those of the mustard seed and the yeast. They are, Francis explained, both small, they seem harmless, "but when they enter into that movement, they have within them a power that comes out of themselves and grows, it goes beyond, even beyond what can be imagined". Precisely 'this is the mystery of the Kingdom'.

The reality, in fact, is that 'the wheat has power within, the leaven has power within', and also 'the power of the Kingdom of God comes from within; the power comes from within, the growing comes from within'. It is not, the Pope added with a comparison that refers to current events, "a growth as for example occurs in the case of a football team when the number of fans increases and makes the team bigger", but "it comes from within". A concept that, he added, is taken up by Paul in the Letter to the Romans (8:18-25) in a passage "that is full of tension", because "this growth of the Kingdom of God from within, from within, is a growth in tension".

So the apostle explains: "How many tensions are there in our lives and where they lead us", and says that "the sufferings of this life are not comparable to the glory that awaits us". But even the 'waiting' itself, said the Pontiff rereading the epistle, is not a 'quiet' waiting: Paul speaks 'of ardent expectation. There is an ardent expectation in these tensions'. Moreover, this expectation is not only of man, but "also of creation" which is "stretched out towards the revelation of the sons of God". In fact, "creation too, like us, has been subjected to transience" and proceeds in the "hope that it will be freed from the bondage of corruption". Therefore, "it is the whole creation that from the existential transience it perceives, goes right to glory, to freedom from slavery; it leads us to freedom. And this creation - and we with it, with creation - groans and suffers the pains of childbirth to this day'.

The conclusion of this reasoning led the Pope to relaunch the concept of 'hope': man and the whole creation possess 'the firstfruits of the Spirit', that is, 'the internal force that carries us forward and gives us hope' of the 'fullness of the Kingdom of God'. That is why the Apostle Paul wrote "that phrase that teaches us so much: 'For in hope we have been saved'".

It, the Pontiff continued, is a 'path', it is 'that which leads us to fullness, the hope of coming out of this prison, out of this limitation, out of this slavery, out of this corruption and arriving at glory'. And it is, he added, "a gift of the Spirit" that "is within us and leads to this: to a great thing, to a liberation, to a great glory. And that is why Jesus says: 'Inside the mustard seed, that tiny grain, there is a power that unleashes unimaginable growth'".

Here then is the reality foreshadowed by the parable: "Within us and in creation - because we are going together towards glory - there is a force that unleashes: there is the Holy Spirit. That gives us hope'. And, Francis added, 'To live in hope is to let these forces of the Spirit go forth and help us grow towards this fullness that awaits us in glory'.

Next, the Pontiff's reflection looked at another aspect, for in the parable it is added that 'the mustard seed is taken and thrown. A man took it and threw it into the garden' and that even the leaven is not left unturned: 'a woman takes and mixes'. That is, 'if the grain is not taken and thrown, if the leaven is not taken by the woman and mixed, they remain there and that inner strength they have remains there'. In the same way, Francis explained, 'if we want to keep the grain for ourselves, it will be one grain. If we do not mix with life, with the flour of life, the yeast, only the yeast will remain'. It is therefore necessary to 'throw, to mix, that courage of hope'. Which "grows, because the Kingdom of God grows from within, not by proselytism". It grows "with the power of the Holy Spirit".In this regard, the Pope recalled that 'the Church has always had both the courage to take and to throw, to take and to mix', and also 'the fear of doing so'. And he noted: "Many times we see that we prefer a pastoral of conservation" rather than "letting the Kingdom grow". When this happens 'we remain what we are, little ones, there', perhaps 'we stay safe', but 'the Kingdom does not grow'. Whereas "for the Kingdom to grow it takes courage: to cast the grain, to stir the yeast".

Someone might object: 'If I throw the grain, I lose it'. But this, the Pope explained, is the reality of always: 'There is always some loss, in sowing the Kingdom of God. If I mix the yeast I get my hands dirty: thank God! Woe to those who preach the Kingdom of God with the illusion of not getting their hands dirty. These are museum-keepers: they prefer beautiful things" to "the act of throwing so that force may break out, of stirring so that force may grow".

All this is encapsulated in the words of Jesus and Paul proposed by the liturgy: the "tension that goes from the slavery of sin" to the "fullness of glory". And the hope that 'does not disappoint' even if it is 'as small as wheat and as leaven'. Someone, the Pontiff recalled, 'said that it is the most humble virtue, it is the servant. But there is the Spirit, and where there is hope there is the Holy Spirit. And it is the Holy Spirit who brings forth the Kingdom of God'. And he concluded by suggesting to those present to think back to 'the mustard seed and the yeast, the tossing and the stirring' and to ask themselves: 'How is it, my hope? Is it an illusion? A 'maybe'? Or do I believe, that there is the Holy Spirit in there? Do I speak with the Holy Spirit?"

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 31 October 2017]

Theatrical actors and neutrality

(Lk 13:10-17)

Old and new opinions or common ideas stand in the way of life that calls, that reveals something else, that ignites passions, that wants totality, and activates transformation.

As always, Jesus is present in "synagogue" not to make codified prayers: He is among his people to «instruct» (v.10). The Lord is educating his intimates, in a very decisive way.

In the place of worship the Master finds a subordinate humanity, a panorama of minimums still harassed by the ancient religious obsession - then folded in on themselves, weary, unable to lift their heads.

The spirit of weakness that the same environment injected precisely to the sick and troubled, it made the faithful of the assembly [or the habituals in it] totally passive.

A curved existence, dragged at least worse; without horizons.

Christ’s Action extracts from the addicted crowd, frees from conformity and massification. He puts back on its feet the faltering ‘woman’, who takes to praise God seriously, with joy, immediately (vv.12-13).

Figure who although "participated" in the rite, and always among the people gathered together. But before meeting the Lord personally she did not glorify the Father in a real way - nor did she honour his very existence.

No joyful expression for the healing, on the part of leaders - accustomed to inoculating in the souls a soporific climate - indeed, only condemnation. Illustrious and distant authorities.

Individualistic negotiators of the power on duty, incapable of proximity. This was also for various interests of circle, doctrine, supremacy, and institutional prestige.

Then - in the common idea - it seemed that in legalistic or rubricistic terms the sanctification of the day dedicated to the Lord excluded any involvement, and even good works!

In addition to this unhealthy belief, even touching a wounded "flesh" was imagined could make impure!

In short, the spirit of the commandment that imposed the Sabbath rest [historically born for the protection of vast social, cultic, and identity needs] had been completely manipulated and overthrown.

The logic of the young Rabbi is opposed to protocols: only the neglect of the marginalized and enslaved dishonours God.

The only non-negotiable principle is the good of the real woman and man: this is the only key to reading the Gospels.

And the rite must celebrate precisely a fraternal life of welcome and sharing, of happiness, personalization, care, love.

The rest is for Jesus an unbearable comedy, from which his church leaders must stay away: «Theatricals» (v.15) would also define them today - otherwise - our Lord.

We are worth much more than oxen and donkeys (vv.15-16).

The relationship with God is feast, healing, salvation: all concrete - fruit of choice, even social.

Spirituality not empty, and any - where the little ones are forced to delegate their dreams to others.

[Monday 30th wk. in O.T.  October 26, 2026]

Theatre actors and neutrality

(Luke 13:10-17)

Our passion for a full existence would like to guide us who knows where, but sometimes there is an external force that holds us back. A dark power that even prevents us from discovering our true nature.

The opinions of others, doctrines, customs, and common ideas, both old and new, stand in the way of the life that calls us, that makes us discover other things, that ignites passions, that wants totality, and activates transformation.

Meanwhile, the perception that we may be failing to follow the 'right' path creates external conflicts; it intimidates, causes suffering, induces guilt, and sometimes blocks the most sensitive souls.

Those who accuse us then leverage the fear of having to pay the price of freedom (of character and vocation) for any 'mistakes' we may encounter by straying from the prescribed path.

The same dynamics apply, on the one hand, to deference to customs and, on the other, to adherence to fashions, even the most sophisticated and 'up-to-date' ones.

Especially in cultures or religions without the leap of faith, all this takes root and causes discomfort; it makes us believe that we are much less than we should be.

Conversely, even if it seems that we are walking on reckless paths (but ones that belong to us), the risks could bring us joy, greater fulfilment and realisation.

As always, Jesus is present in the 'synagogue' not to recite codified prayers: he is among his people to 'teach' (v. 10).

In particular, he teaches that the Father is not in conflict with his subjects. On the contrary, he supports all his children and gives them a different posture from that of the 'animal' world - to which normal beliefs might perhaps reduce us.

At that time, no woman could participate directly in a liturgy, but in the Gospels, female figures are a parable of the people themselves [in Hebrew, the term Israel is feminine].

Luke brings a 'woman' onto the scene to allude to all oppressed figures, to whom the praying community sometimes offers no comfort or concrete action for emancipation.

People subjected to the 'cultural' paradigm of their particular environment and to the conditioning power of family tradition.

At that time, this cloak forcibly transmitted a paradigmatic spirituality that was reassuring but absolutely conformist.

The common people were completely subject to the head of the family; in addition, they were subject to political power and even enslaved to the fundamentalism of the religious authorities.

It was a humiliating, even atrocious, 'bestial' panorama.

The Lord is educating his intimates in a very decisive manner.

In the place of worship, the Master finds a subordinate humanity, a panorama of the lowly still oppressed by ancient religious obsession - therefore withdrawn, weakened, unable to lift their heads.

The spirit of weakness that this same environment instilled in the infirm made the faithful of the assembly (or those who frequented it) totally passive.

A hunched existence, dragged along as best they could, without horizons.

Christ's action draws out of the addicted crowd, frees them from conformism and massification, and puts the faltering 'woman' back on her feet, who immediately begins to praise God in earnest, with joy (vv. 12-13).

She was a figure who 'participated' in the ritual, and was always among the gathered people, but before meeting the Lord personally, she did not truly glorify the Father - nor did she honour her own existence.

There was no joyful expression of healing on the part of the religious leaders - accustomed to instilling a soporific atmosphere in souls - on the contrary, only condemnation. Distinguished and distant.

Individualistic negotiators of the power of the moment, incapable of closeness. This was also due to various interests of circles, doctrine, supremacy, and institutional prestige.

Then - in the common idea - it seemed that in legalistic or rubric terms, the sanctification of the day dedicated to the Lord excluded any involvement, and good works!

In addition to this unhealthy belief, even touching wounded 'flesh' was thought to make one impure!

In short, the spirit of the commandment that imposed rest on the Sabbath [historically created to protect vast social, cultural and identity needs] had been completely manipulated and overturned.

The young Rabbi's logic is opposed to the protocols: only the neglect of the marginalised and enslaved dishonours God.

The only non-negotiable principle is the good of real women and men: this is the only key to understanding the Gospels.

And the ritual must celebrate a fraternal life of welcome and sharing, of happiness, personalisation, care and love.

The rest is, for Jesus, an unbearable comedy, from which his church leaders must keep their distance: 'Theatre actors' (v. 15) is how our Lord would describe them even today, if not otherwise.

We are worth much more than oxen and donkeys (vv. 15-16).

Our relationship with God is a celebration, healing, salvation: all concrete - the result of choice, even social choice.

And finally, the new Magisterium also breaks away from the previous mentality, which was often diplomatic and neutral:

'Jesus' conclusion is a request: Go and do likewise (Lk 10:37). In other words, he challenges us to put aside all differences and, in the face of suffering, to draw close to everyone. Therefore, I no longer say that I have 'neighbours' to help, but that I feel called to become a neighbour to others" [Fratelli Tutti, n.81].

“Now this woman, being a daughter of Abraham […] should she not be freed from this bond on the Sabbath?” (Lk 13:16).

Spirituality that is not empty, and any kind of spirituality where the little ones are forced to delegate their dreams to others.

39. To suffer with the other and for others; to suffer for the sake of truth and justice; to suffer out of love and in order to become a person who truly loves—these are fundamental elements of humanity, and to abandon them would destroy man himself. Yet once again the question arises: are we capable of this? Is the other important enough to warrant my becoming, on his account, a person who suffers? Does truth matter to me enough to make suffering worthwhile? Is the promise of love so great that it justifies the gift of myself? In the history of humanity, it was the Christian faith that had the particular merit of bringing forth within man a new and deeper capacity for these kinds of suffering that are decisive for his humanity. The Christian faith has shown us that truth, justice and love are not simply ideals, but enormously weighty realities. It has shown us that God —Truth and Love in person—desired to suffer for us and with us. Bernard of Clairvaux coined the marvellous expression: Impassibilis est Deus, sed non incompassibilis[29]—God cannot suffer, but he can suffer with. Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man in an utterly real way—in flesh and blood—as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus's Passion. Hence in all human suffering we are joined by one who experiences and carries that suffering with us; hence con-solatio is present in all suffering, the consolation of God's compassionate love—and so the star of hope rises. Certainly, in our many different sufferings and trials we always need the lesser and greater hopes too—a kind visit, the healing of internal and external wounds, a favourable resolution of a crisis, and so on. In our lesser trials these kinds of hope may even be sufficient. But in truly great trials, where I must make a definitive decision to place the truth before my own welfare, career and possessions, I need the certitude of that true, great hope of which we have spoken here. For this too we need witnesses—martyrs—who have given themselves totally, so as to show us the way—day after day. We need them if we are to prefer goodness to comfort, even in the little choices we face each day—knowing that this is how we live life to the full. Let us say it once again: the capacity to suffer for the sake of the truth is the measure of humanity. Yet this capacity to suffer depends on the type and extent of the hope that we bear within us and build upon. The saints were able to make the great journey of human existence in the way that Christ had done before them, because they were brimming with great hope. 

40. I would like to add here another brief comment with some relevance for everyday living. There used to be a form of devotion—perhaps less practised today but quite widespread not long ago—that included the idea of “offering up” the minor daily hardships that continually strike at us like irritating “jabs”, thereby giving them a meaning. Of course, there were some exaggerations and perhaps unhealthy applications of this devotion, but we need to ask ourselves whether there may not after all have been something essential and helpful contained within it. What does it mean to offer something up? Those who did so were convinced that they could insert these little annoyances into Christ's great “com-passion” so that they somehow became part of the treasury of compassion so greatly needed by the human race. In this way, even the small inconveniences of daily life could acquire meaning and contribute to the economy of good and of human love. Maybe we should consider whether it might be judicious to revive this practice ourselves.

[Pope Benedict, Spe Salvi]

1. When we speak of the dignity and mission of women according to the doctrine and spirit of the Church, we must look to the Gospel, which is the light by which Christians see, evaluate and judge everything.

In the previous catechesis, we saw how Revelation helps us to understand the identity and destiny of women, using the Virgin Mary as an example, according to what the Gospel says. But in that same divine source we find other signs of Christ's will regarding women. He speaks of them with respect and kindness, showing in his attitude a willingness to welcome women and to call upon them to commit themselves to the establishment of the Kingdom of God in the world.

2. We can recall first of all the numerous cases of women being healed (cf. John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem, 13). And those in which Jesus shows his heart as Saviour, full of tenderness when he encounters those who suffer, both men and women. "Do not weep!" he says to the widow of Nain (Lk 7:13). And then he restores her son, risen from the dead. This episode gives us some insight into Jesus' intimate feelings towards his mother, Mary, in the dramatic perspective of participating in his Passion and Death. Jesus also speaks tenderly to Jairus' dead daughter: "Little girl, I say to you, get up!" And, after raising her from the dead, he orders "give her something to eat" (Mk 5:41, 43). Again, he shows his sympathy for the bent woman, whom he heals: and in this case, with the allusion to Satan, he also makes us think of the spiritual salvation he brings to that woman (cf. Lk 13:10-17).

3. In other parts of the Gospel we find Jesus' admiration for the faith of certain women expressed. For example, in the case of the woman with the haemorrhage: "Your faith has saved you," he tells her (Mk 5:34). This praise is all the more valuable because the woman had been subject to segregation imposed by ancient law. Jesus also frees the woman from this social oppression. In turn, the Canaanite woman receives recognition from Jesus: "Woman, your faith is great" (Mt 15:28). It is a compliment that has special significance, considering that it was addressed to a foreigner in the world of Israel. We can also recall Jesus' admiration for the widow who offers her gift in the temple treasury (cf. Lk 21:1-4); and his appreciation for the service he receives from Mary of Bethany (cf. Mt 26:6-13; Mk 14:3-9; Jn 12:1-8), whose gesture, he announces, will be made known to the whole world.

4. Even in his parables, Jesus does not hesitate to use similes and examples drawn from the female world, unlike the midrash of the rabbis, where only male figures appear. Jesus refers to both women and men. If we wanted to make a comparison, we could perhaps say that the advantage lies with women. This means, at the very least, that Jesus avoids even the appearance of attributing inferiority to women.

Furthermore, Jesus opens the door to his Kingdom to women as well as to men. By opening it to women, he wants to open it to children. When he says, 'Let the children come to me' (Mark 10:14), he is reacting to the vigilance of the disciples who wanted to prevent women from presenting their children to the Master. It is as if he were agreeing with the women and their love for children!

In his ministry, Jesus is accompanied by many women who follow him and help him and the community of disciples (cf. Lk 8:1-3). This is a novelty compared to Jewish tradition. Jesus, who attracted these women to follow him, shows in this way how he overcame the prejudices prevalent in his environment, as in much of the ancient world, about the inferiority of women. His struggle against injustice and oppression also includes his rejection of discrimination between women and men in his Church (cf. John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem, 13).

5. We cannot fail to add that the Gospel also shows Jesus' benevolence towards certain sinners, whom he asks to repent, but without railing against them for their mistakes, especially since these involve the co-responsibility of men. Some episodes are truly significant: the woman who goes to the house of the Pharisee Simon (cf. Lk 7:36-50) is not only forgiven her sins, but also praised for her love; the Samaritan woman becomes a messenger of the new faith (cf. Jn 4:7-37); the adulterous woman receives, together with forgiveness, the simple exhortation not to sin again (cf. Jn 8:3-11); (John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem, 14). Without doubt, Jesus does not accept evil, sin, or anyone who commits it: but how much understanding he shows for human frailty and how much goodness he shows towards those who already suffer from their spiritual misery and, more or less consciously, seek the Saviour in him!

6. Finally, the Gospel says that Jesus expressly calls women to collaborate in his work of salvation. Not only does he allow them to follow him to help him and the community of disciples, but he also asks for other forms of personal commitment. Thus, he asks Martha to commit herself to faith (cf. Jn 11:26-27): and she, responding to the Master's invitation, makes her profession of faith before the resurrection of Lazarus. After the Resurrection, he entrusts to the pious women who had gone to the tomb and to Mary Magdalene the task of transmitting his message to the Apostles (cf. Mt 28:8-10; Jn 20:17-18): "The women were thus the first messengers of Christ's Resurrection to the Apostles themselves" (Cathechismus Catholicae Ecclesiae, 641). These are quite eloquent signs of his desire to involve women in the service of the Kingdom.

7. This behaviour of Jesus has its theological explanation in his intention to unify humanity. As St Paul says, he wanted to reconcile all people through his sacrifice, "in one body" and make them all "one new man" (Eph 2:15-16), so that now "there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Gal 3:28). And here is the conclusion of our catechesis: if Jesus Christ has united men and women in the equality of their status as children of God, He commits both to His mission, not by suppressing diversity at all, but by eliminating all unjust inequality and reconciling everyone in the unity of the Church.

8. The history of the early Christian communities tells us how much women helped to spread the Gospel: starting with "Phebe, our sister," as St. Paul calls her, "deaconess of the Church of Cenchreae: . . . she has helped many, including myself" (Rom 16:1-2). I would like to pay tribute to her memory and to that of the many other women who collaborated with the Apostles in Cenchreae, in Rome and in all the Christian communities. With them, we also remember and praise all the other women - religious and lay - who over the centuries have borne witness to the Gospel and transmitted the faith, greatly influencing the growth of a Christian climate in the family and in society.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 6 July 1994]

There are five verbs of "closeness" that Jesus lives firsthand and which indicate the criteria of the "final protocol": seeing, calling, speaking, touching, and healing. Not only pastors, who are the first to run the risk of being "hypocrites," but all men will be judged on this. With the warning that fine words and good manners are not enough, because Jesus asks us to touch the flesh of others with our own hands, especially if they are suffering. This is "the way of the good shepherd" that the Pope pointed out in the Mass celebrated on Monday, 30 October, at Santa Marta.

'In this passage from the Gospel,' Francis immediately pointed out, referring to the passage from Luke (13:10-17), 'we find Jesus not on the road as was his custom, but in the synagogue: on the Sabbath, the community goes to the synagogue to pray, to listen to the word of God and also to the sermon; and Jesus was there, listening to the word of God'. But "he also taught, because he had authority, such great moral authority, that they invited him to say a word," precisely to "teach the people." And "in the synagogue there was a woman who was bent over, completely bent over, poor thing, and could not stand up straight: a disease of the spine that had kept her that way for years."

And "what does Jesus do? I am struck," the Pope confided, "by the verbs the evangelist uses to describe what Jesus did: 'he saw' her; 'he called' her; 'he said to her'; 'he laid his hands on her and healed her'." These are "five verbs of closeness."

First of all, the Pontiff explained, "Jesus approached her: the attitude of the good shepherd, closeness." Because "a good shepherd is always close: think of the parable of the good shepherd that Jesus preached," so "close" to the lost sheep that he leaves the others and goes to look for her.

After all, Francis said, "the good shepherd cannot be far from his people, and this is the sign of a good shepherd: closeness. Instead, the others, in this case the head of the synagogue, that small group of clerics, doctors of the law, some Pharisees, Sadducees, the illustrious, lived separated from the people, constantly rebuking them." But, the Pope reiterated, "these were not good shepherds; they were closed off in their own group and did not care about the people. Perhaps they cared, when the religious service was over, about going to see how much money there was in the offerings; that mattered to them, but they were not close to the people, they were not close to the people."

This is why "Jesus always presents himself in this way, close," the Pontiff pointed out. And "many times in the Gospel it appears that closeness comes from what Jesus feels in his heart: 'Jesus was moved,' says a passage from the Gospel, for example, he feels mercy, he draws near." For this reason, "Jesus was always there with the people discarded by that small clerical group: there were the poor, the sick, the sinners, the lepers: they were all there because Jesus had this ability to be moved by illness; he was a good shepherd." And "a good shepherd draws near and has the ability to be moved."

"And I will say," Francis affirmed, "that the third trait of a good shepherd is not to be ashamed of the flesh, to touch the wounded flesh, as Jesus did with this woman: 'he touched', 'he laid his hands on', he touched the lepers, he touched the sinners." It is "a very close closeness, very close." Touching "the flesh," therefore. Because "a good shepherd does not say: 'But, yes, it's okay, yes, yes, I am close to you in spirit'." In reality, "this is a distance" and not closeness.

Instead, the Pope insisted, "the good shepherd does what God the Father did, drawing near, out of compassion, out of mercy, in the flesh of his Son. This is a good shepherd." And 'the great shepherd, the Father, taught us how to be a good shepherd: he lowered himself, he emptied himself, he annihilated himself, he took the form of a servant'.

This is precisely 'the way of the good shepherd', explained the Pontiff. And here we may ask ourselves: ' But what about the others, those who follow the path of clericalism, who do they approach?" These people, Francis replied, "always approach either the power of the moment or money, and they are bad shepherds: they only think about how to climb the ladder of power, be friends with those in power, and negotiate everything or think about their pockets, and these are the hypocrites, capable of anything." Certainly, "these people do not care about the people. And when Jesus calls them that beautiful adjective he uses so often with them — 'hypocrites' — they are offended: 'But we, no, we follow the law'." Instead, "the people were happy: it is a sin for the people of God to see when bad shepherds are beaten; it is a sin, yes, but they have suffered so much that they 'enjoy' this a little bit."

"Let us think," suggests the Pontiff, "of the good shepherd, let us think of Jesus who sees, calls, speaks, touches and heals; let us think of the Father who becomes flesh in his Son, out of compassion." And "this is the way of the good shepherd, the shepherd we see here today, in this passage from the Gospel: it is a grace for the people of God to have good shepherds, shepherds like Jesus, who are not ashamed to touch wounded flesh, who know that on this — not only them, but all of us — we will be judged: I was hungry, I was in prison, I was sick... '.

'The criteria of the final protocol,' concluded the Pope, 'are the criteria of closeness, the criteria of this total closeness' in order to 'touch, share the situation of God's people'. And 'let us not forget this: the good shepherd always draws close to the people, always, just as God our Father drew close to us, in Jesus Christ made flesh'.

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano, 31 October 2017]

No forced compliance: only profound Quality compels

(Mt 22:34-40)

That of the ‘Great commandment’ was the most familiar catechism rule, even to infants.

Jesus is questioned to retort: and why do you not keep the one commandment that even God fulfils - the Sabbath rest?

The unique disposition in which the Father recognizes himself is Love, not some particular precept - because only profound Quality obliges.

The spiritual proposal of the Master makes the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets its own: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God envelops the creature in every decision [heart], every moment and aspect of its concrete 'life', all its resources [strength].

Mt does not explicitly mention this last aspect, perhaps to emphasize that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

And Jesus adds to the nuances of authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side to those who think of love as a feeling only emotional.

The Lord suggests study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions (v.37) - the mental and deep intelligence aspect that complements Dt 6.

At first glance, it appears to be a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wisely and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor absorb our forces or potential, depersonalising us; not even from the mental point of view.

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable, other people’s opinion.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimacy and feeling, but of a totally involving affinity, made less oscillating precisely by the development of our sapiential measure on issues.

Here is a decisive appointment, of the Love in the round.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Lord of Heaven who does not come to meet us and instead towers over us with an objective of his own, which is extrinsic to us and makes us marginal.

Loving «How [and Because] yourself»: it is a new Genesis in the spirit of Giving.

All this involves practising kindness, even towards oneself. The journey to Heaven is intertwined with the path of the Person.

God’s «great commandment» encompasses real life and concerns not only the quality of our relationship with the world and our neighbour, but also our overall reflection on ourselves. 

The paradox suggested by Jesus is that we love for the care to meet - and because we love ourselves - by expanding the ‘I’ into the ‘You’.

The ‘You’ that speaks to us of ourselves.

We should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting the challenges even intellectual ones that call into question beliefs, works, one’s worldview, language, style, and thought itself.

All added values.

Needless to complain, if the ecclesial realities that do not update or deepen, and remain in the inherited commonplaces [or vogues] slowly decay, then disappear.

Therefore to the ancient notes of true love, the Son of God adds the ‘quality of mind’: we are not gullible, clueless, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the result of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

«Faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived» [John Paul II].

To internalize and live the message:

What is Great for you? Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God’s Call?

[Friday 20th wk. in O.T.  October 25, 2026]