Liturgy is dominated by the episode of the Transfiguration which in Luke's Gospel immediately follows the Teacher's invitation: "If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Lk 9: 23). This extraordinary event is an encouragement in the following of Christ. 

Luke does not speak of the Transfiguration but describes what happens through two elements: the Face of Jesus which changes and his clothes that become a dazzling white in the presence of Moses and Elijah, a symbol of the Law and of the Prophets. The three disciples who witness the scene are heavy with sleep: this is the attitude of those who, although they have seen divine miracles, fail to understand. It is only the struggle against drowsiness that enables Peter, James and John to "see" Jesus in his glory. Then the rhythm quickens: while Moses and Elijah take their leave of the Master, Peter speaks and as he speaks a cloud envelops him and the other disciples in its shadow. This cloud, while it covers them, reveals the glory of God, just as happened for the pilgrim people in the desert. Their eyes can no longer see but their ears can hear the voice that comes out of the cloud: "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" (v. 35). 

The disciples no longer have before them a transfigured face or dazzling garments or a cloud that reveals the divine presence. They have before them "Jesus... alone" (v. 36). Jesus is alone with his Father while he prays but at the same time, "Jesus... alone" is all that the disciples and the Church of every epoch have been granted; and this must suffice on the journey. The only voice to listen to, the only voice to follow is his, the voice of the One going up to Jerusalem who was one day to give his life to "change our lowly body to be like his glorious body" (Phil 3: 21). 

"Master, it is well that we are here" (Lk 9: 33) are Peter's ecstatic words, that often resemble our own desire before the Lord's consolations. However the Transfiguration reminds us that the joys sown by God in life are not finishing lines; rather they are lights he gives us during our earthly pilgrimage in order that "Jesus alone" may be our Law and his word the criterion that directs our existence.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus, 28 February 2010]

The mystery of the Transfiguration takes place at a very precise moment in Christ's preaching of his mission, when he begins to confide to his disciples that he must "go up to Jerusalem and suffer much ... and be killed and rise again on the third day" (Mt 16:21). With reluctance they accept the first announcement of the passion and the divine Master, before repeating and confirming it, wants to give them proof of his total rootedness in the will of the Father so that before the scandal of the cross they will not succumb. The passion and death will in fact be the way by which the heavenly Father will lead "the beloved Son", raised from the dead, to glory. This will henceforth also be the way of his disciples. No one will come to the light except through the cross, symbol of the sufferings that afflict human existence. The cross is thus transformed into an instrument of atonement for the sins of all humanity. United with his Lord in love, the disciple participates in his redemptive passion.

[Pope John Paul II, homily 7 March 1993]

Liturgy leads us to contemplate the event of the Transfiguration in which Jesus allows the disciples Peter, James and John a foretaste of the glory of the Resurrection: a glimpse of heaven on earth. Luke the Evangelist (cf. 9:28-36) reveals to us Jesus transfigured on the mountain, which is the place of light, a fascinating symbol of the unique experience reserved to the three disciples. They go up the mountain with the Master, they see him immersed in prayer and, at a certain point, “the appearance of his countenance was altered” (v. 29). Accustomed to seeing him daily in the simple appearance of his humanity, they are astonished as they face that new splendour that also envelops his entire body. And Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus and speak with Him about his forthcoming “exodus”, that is, of his Paschal death and Resurrection. It is a preview of Easter. Then Peter exclaims: “Master, it is well that we are here” (v. 33). He wished that that moment of grace would never end!

The Transfiguration occurs at a precise moment in Christ’s mission, that is, after he has confided to his disciples that he would have to “suffer many things, [...] be killed, and on the third day be raised” (v. 21). Jesus knows that they do not accept this reality — the reality of the Cross, the reality of Jesus’ death —, and so he wants to prepare them to withstand the scandal of the passion and death on the Cross, so that they may know that this is the way through which the heavenly Father will lead his Son to glory; by raising him from the dead. And this will also be the way for the disciples: no one can reach eternal life if not by following Jesus, carrying their own cross in their earthly life. Each of us has his or her own cross. The Lord reveals to us the end of this journey which is the Resurrection, beauty: by carrying one’s own cross.

Therefore, the Transfiguration of Christ shows us the Christian perspective of suffering. Suffering is not sadomasochism: it is a necessary but transitory passage. The point of arrival to which we are called is luminous like the face of Christ Transfigured: in him is salvation, beatitude, light and the boundless love of God. By revealing his glory in this way, Jesus ensures that the cross, the trials, the difficulties with which we struggle, are resolved and overcome in Easter. Thus this Lent, let us also go up the mountain with Jesus! But in what way? With prayer. Let us climb the mountain with prayer: silent prayer, heartfelt prayer, prayer that always seeks the Lord. Let us pause for some time in reflection, a little each day, let us fix our inner gaze on his countenance and let us allow his light to permeate us and shine in our life.

Indeed, Luke the Evangelist emphasizes the fact that Jesus was transfigured, “as he was praying” (v. 29). He was immersed in an intimate dialogue with the Father in which the Law and the Prophets — Moses and Elijah — also echoed; and as he adhered with his entire being to the Father’s will of salvation, including the Cross, the glory of God flooded him, even shining on the outside. This is how it is, brothers and sisters: prayer in Christ and in the Holy Spirit transforms the person from the inside and can illuminate others and the surrounding world. How often have we found people who illuminate, who exude light from their eyes, who have that luminous gaze! They pray, and prayer does this: it makes us luminous with the light of the Holy Spirit.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 17 March 2019]

The difficult condition of the disciple in the Church and the world

(Mt 14:22-36)

Having reached the ultimate condition (v.23) Jesus does not allow the Apostles to keep the treasures of God for themselves.

He compels his own to the mission to the Gentiles (v.22). But the 'headwinds' were many.

About half a century after the Lord's death, the communities of Galilee and Syria faced a difficult crossing.

The securities of the ancient religion and the sense of rootedness in the customs of the “chosen” people were breaking down. Even small privileges of position were crumbling.

With the increasing entry of pagans into communities, third-generation believers were forced to ask themselves how they could break out of their old cultural isolation and open up to a new way of seeing things.

In addition to the persecutions, internal conflicts intensified: for example, over the position to be taken in relation to the Empire itself.

There was no shortage of heated debates on the figure and history of the Master himself - as well as on the attitude to take towards the tradition of the 'fathers' [which to some seemed a call to turn back].

Even though the situation was fraught with friction, bitterness, and rancour between Judaizers and those from paganism, as well as impetuous dangers, the Glad Tidings of unconditional Salvation could not be kept in an inner circle.

The quotation of the divine Name «I Am» (v.27) refers here to the Exodus story (3:14).

It is a reminder to the disciples. They still seemed to be in the grip of immediate fears about the real power of Life and Deliverance of Christ - so much so that they did not recognize Him (v.26).

Without ceasing, the Risen One still makes himself Present, so that we can open up and move forward; without the burden of opposition or nostalgia. There is a whole new reality waiting.

We are inhabited by the power of God (vv.28-31).

Authentic communities - «flap of his cloak» (v.36) that is of his Person - will still experience the power of the Spirit.

Through evangelization and the new way of living and helping others gratuitously, any storms that may be gathering on the horizon will clear up.

It will be replaced by an ever deeper and more acute experience of the burgeoning diversity of the 'other shore'; of one's neighbour, of oneself, of the life to come, and of God.

But the virtue that dominates the elements cannot be experienced as Peter intended, that is, as an external, immediate, decisive, and final power - but rather as mysterious and inner, animated in time, and of profound relationship.

The “victory” will be the result of Faith alone: trust in the strength that the silent Messiah gives.

Potency far greater than what we already know about ourselves - despite the fact that we often (like Simone) pretend to an easier, quicker, immediately decisive shortcut.

Emotionally relevant situations have their own meaning, they carry a significant appeal; they introduce a different introspection, the decisive change - a new 'genesis'.

Trial in fact activates souls in the most effective way, because it disengages us from the idea of stability, and brings us into contact with dormant energies, initiating the new dialogue with events.

In Him, we are therefore imbued with a different vision of danger.

[Monday 18th wk. in O.T. (year A)]

[Tuesday 18th wk. in O.T. (year B-C), August 5, 2025]

The risk of drowning

(Mt 14:22-36)

Some other providence, which you do not know

"It is good not to fall, or to fall and get up again. And if you do fall, it is good not to despair and not to become estranged from the love that the Sovereign has for man. For if he wishes, he can show mercy to our weakness. Let us only not stray from him, let us not feel distressed if we are constrained by the commandments, and let us not be disheartened if we achieve nothing (...).

We must neither be hasty nor give up, but always start again (...).

Wait for him, and he will show you mercy, either through conversion, through trials, or through some other providence that you do not know.

(Peter Damascene, Book Two, Eighth Discourse, in The Philokalia, Turin 1982, I,94)

Having reached the final stage (v. 23), Jesus does not allow the Apostles to keep God's treasures for themselves.

He compels them to go on mission to the pagans (v. 22). However, there were many adverse 'winds'.

About half a century after the Lord's death, the communities of Galilee and Syria were facing a difficult crossing.

The certainties of the ancient religion and the sense of rootedness in the customs of the "chosen" people were fading. Even the small privileges of position were crumbling.

With the increasing entry of pagans into the communities, the third generation of believers were forced to ask themselves how to break out of their ancient cultural isolation and open themselves up to a new way of seeing things.

In addition to persecution, internal conflicts were intensifying, for example, over the position to take in relation to the Empire itself.

There were heated debates about the very figure and history of the Master, as well as about the attitude to take towards the tradition of the fathers (which some saw as a call to return to the past).

Although the situation was fraught with friction, bitterness, resentment between those who had converted from Judaism and those who came from paganism, as well as impetuous dangers, the Good News of unconditional salvation could not be kept within a small circle.

The mention of the divine name 'I Am' refers here to the story of Exodus 3:14. It is a reminder to the disciples, who were still overcome by immediate fears about the real power of life and liberation of Christ - so much so that they did not recognise him (v. 26).

The Risen One makes himself present again and again, so that we may open ourselves and move forward without the burden of opposition or nostalgia. A whole new reality awaits us.

We are filled with God's strength (vv. 28-31), and today too, for our rebirth from the global crisis, we are called to a personal, cultural, radical and unprecedented response of love: to introspection, but not as intimidated subjects; to boldness, but not as hasty superficial people.

Authentic communities - "the corner of his cloak" (v. 36), that is, of his Person - will experience once again the power of the Spirit.

Through evangelisation and a new way of living and helping others freely, every storm that may gather on the horizon will dissipate.

It will be replaced by an ever deeper and more acute experience of the flourishing diversity on the other side: of our neighbour, of ourselves, of the very life that is coming, and of God.

But the virtue that dominates the elements cannot be experienced as Peter intended, that is, as an external, immediate, decisive, and final power, but rather as mysterious and interior, animated in time and deeply relational.

'Victory' will be the fruit of faith alone: trust in the power that the silent Messiah gives.

This power is far greater than what we already know about ourselves, even though we often (like Simon) demand an easier, quicker, and immediately decisive shortcut.

(Mt 8:23-27)

The direction imposed by Jesus on his followers seems counterintuitive and blatantly breaks the rules accepted by everyone.

While the disciples cherished nationalistic desires, the Master began to make it clear that He was not the Messiah commonly believed to be the restorer of the defunct empire of David or the Caesars.

The Kingdom of God is open to all humanity, which in those times of turmoil seeks security, welcome and points of reference. Everyone can find a home and shelter there (Mt 13:32c; Mk 4:32b).

But the apostles and church veterans seem averse to Christ's proposals; they remain insensitive to an idea of brotherhood that is too broad and unsettling for them. It is a serious and pressing problem.

The teaching and call imposed on the disciples is to cross over to the other side (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22), that is, not to keep for themselves, but to communicate the riches of the Father to the pagans, considered impure and disreputable.

Yet his followers do not want to know about risky disproportions that effectively highlight the action of the Son of God. They are calibrated to common religious customs and a limited ideology of power.Their resistance to the divine commission and the ensuing internal debate unleashed a great storm in the assemblies of believers.

'And behold, there came a great storm upon the sea, so that the boat was being covered with waves' (Mt 8:24).

The storm affects only the disciples, who are the only ones who are frightened; not Jesus: "but he was asleep" (Mt 8:24c: this is the Risen One).

What happens 'inside' is not simply a reflection of what happens 'outside'! This is the mistake that needs to be corrected.

Such identification blocks and makes life chronic, starting with the management of emotionally relevant situations - which have their own meaning. They carry a significant appeal, introducing a different perspective and dialogue.

Even from the peace of the divine condition that dominates chaos, the Lord calls attention and rebukes the apostles, accusing them of not having faith, that is, a grain of risk of love - like a mustard seed (Mt 8:26) - to bring to humanity in order to renew it.

In short, are we confused, embarrassed, and is the chaos of patterns (not excluding selfishness) raging? Paradoxically, we are on the right path, but we must not be overcome by fear.

In Him, we are imbued with a different vision of danger.

The Tao Te Ching (xxii) says: 'The saint does not see by himself, therefore he is enlightened'. Even in narrow places.

In fact, it seems that Jesus expressly wants the apostles to experience moments of confrontation and doubt (Mk 4:35; Lk 8:22b). This is also true for us, even if we are responsible for the Church... because otherwise we will not be able to cleanse ourselves of repetitive convictions.

Textbook expectations (and the habit of creating conformist harmonies) block the flowering of who we are and what we hope for.

Above all, what is annoying or even "against" us has something decisive to tell us. Even in the little boat of the churches (Mk 4:36), discomfort must be expressed.

'And they came and woke him, saying, "Lord, save us, we are perishing!"' (Matthew 8:25).

It is to revive the essence of each individual and of the community itself, to introduce change (hidden or repressed) and activate it in the most effective way... through contact with unspoken, primordial energies.

More than opposing frictions and conflicting external events, anxiety, impression and anguish come from the very fear of facing the normal or decisive questions of existence.

This is due to mistrust: feeling in danger perhaps only because we perceive ourselves as immature, incapable of other forms of dialogue, of discovering and reworking, of converting or reshaping ourselves.

The effort of questioning ourselves and the suffering that the adventure of Faith reserves for us will fade away even amid the troubles of the rough sea - which precisely does not want us to return to 'what we were before'.

All we need to do is let go of the idea of stability, even religious stability, and listen to life as it is, embracing it, even in its multitude of collisions, disappointments, hopes for harmony that are shattered, and sorrows, entertaining ourselves with this flood of new emergencies and encountering our deepest nature.

The best vaccine against the anxieties of adventure with Christ on the changing waves of the unexpected will be precisely not to avoid worries upstream - but rather to go out to meet them and welcome them; to recognise them and let them be.

Even in times of global crisis, the apprehensions that seem to want to devastate us come to us as preparatory energies for other joys that want to burst forth—new cosmic harmonies; for amazement starting from ourselves, and guidance for the hereafter.

Our little boat is in a state of inverted stability, upside down, unbalanced; uncertain, inconvenient - yet energetic, pungent, capable of reinventing itself. It may even be excessive, but it is born of turmoil.

For a proposal of Tenderness (not corresponding) that is not a relaxation zone, because it rhymes with terrible anxiety and... suburbs!

To internalise and live the message:

On what occasions have you found easy what previously seemed impossible?

A wonderful testimony:

'Once, like the first disciples, we met the Lord and heard his words: "Follow me!" Perhaps at first we followed him a little uncertainly, looking back and wondering if this was really the right path for us. And at some point along the way, we may have experienced what Peter did after the miraculous catch of fish, that is, we were frightened by his greatness, the greatness of the task and the inadequacy of our poor selves, so much so that we wanted to turn back: 'Lord, go away from me, for I am a sinful man! (Lk 5:8) But then, with great kindness, He took us by the hand, drew us to Himself and said: "Do not be afraid! I am with you. I will not leave you, do not leave me!" And more than once, perhaps, the same thing happened to each of us as happened to Peter when, walking on the water towards the Lord, he suddenly realised that the water was not supporting him and that he was about to sink. And like Peter, we cried out: "Lord, save me!" (Mt 14:30). Seeing all the fury of the elements, how could we pass through the roaring and foaming waters of the last century and the last millennium? But then we looked to Him... and He took us by the hand and gave us a new "specific weight": the lightness that comes from faith and draws us upwards. And then He gives us His hand that supports and carries us. He sustains us. Let us fix our gaze on Him again and again and stretch out our hands to Him. Let His hand take us, and then we will not sink, but we will serve the life that is stronger than death and the love that is stronger than hatred. Faith in Jesus, the Son of the living God, is the means by which we grasp Jesus' hand again and again and by which He takes our hands and guides us. One of my favourite prayers is the question that the liturgy puts on our lips before Communion: '... never let me be separated from you'. We ask never to fall out of communion with His Body, with Christ Himself, never to fall out of the Eucharistic mystery. We ask that He never let go of our hand...'.

(Pope Benedict, Chrism Mass homily, 13 April 2006)

Bread and wonders of the Christ-ghost. And we, the fringe of his cloak

(Mk 6:53-56 // Mt 14:34-36)

He who is devoted to the cause of non-violence and non-possession, who is driven by the search for truth and right vision, who is capable of resolving his own emotional and intellectual problems and can show others the way to overcome their emotional and intellectual problems, can carry the cloak of the Master.

(Acharya Mahaprajna)

While some people crowd around Him and prevent others from having a personal relationship with Jesus, it is necessary to come up with something, at least to touch Him (v. 56).

'And wherever he entered villages or towns or hamlets, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged him to touch even the fringe of his cloak. And all who touched him were saved'.

In fact, the fringe of his cloak is his People - and each one of us, when we are enabled by Gift to perceive and prolong his call, his spirit, his care, his action.

A 'touch' that is not a simple gesture: it calls for total involvement; personal faith, digging deep within.

The crowds around the Lord and the Church, his primary presence, seek bread and healing... but sometimes they forget their adherence to the inner Person who gives and cares.

Yet even in these cases, the infallible Guide re-proposes his uninterrupted vital wave - with therapies that do not impose themselves on souls like lightning, but in real life.

God frees, saves and creates, starting from tensions and defects (even religious ones) because he wants to bring us to awareness.

The Father wants to instil the value of the act of love that makes the weak strong; every re-creative gesture, embodied, open to any sense of emptiness.

Annoyances do not happen by misfortune or punishment: they come to let us flourish again, starting precisely from the pains of the soul.

If they persist, fear not: they become more explicit messages from our own higher Seed.

It means that something in our orchestra is out of tune or neglected, and must either fade away or be discovered and brought into play.

Otherwise, we will not be able to grow towards the destiny that characterises a Calling and every discomfort.

Even the symptoms of restlessness belong to the innate quintessence, which always has the power of relevance.

The key will therefore not be appearance or health, but rather the acceptance of bitterness and hardship, which come to clear away the non-essential and free trapped spiritual impulses.

These are energies of imbalance, but they want to be transformed into the ability to throw off ballast... as well as to better accommodate and integrate one's vocation into one's own history, in order to build life again.

Perhaps many would prefer to wait for a miraculous arrival of the Master (the archetypal healer) who will bring immediate benefits and favours.

External salvation with a magical flavour - fleeting, even if physically palpable or even in ethical guise.

A phenomenal but simplistic Lord.

An appearance that dies quickly, then starts all over again - if He (in us, in our turning points) did not involve the same uncertainties that mark us. And the long time of the processes, which gradually take on a more intimate weight.

Total and sacred redemption - truly messianic - is not prone to superficial fanfare.

Healing is not spectacular. It is achieved only step by step; thus it remains profound and radical.

It becomes capable of new beginnings and acts of birth of still embryonic energy, starting precisely from individual precariousness.

His People – no longer an ineffable and mysterious presence – work in proximity to erase the false image of the philosophical or forensic God, always external. 

Sovereign or imperative motor, distant and absent - touchy - who occasionally points the finger; never surpasses, nor even reconfirms. Never looking at our present.

Thus, the Church rejects the idea of the Eternal One who ratifies, but also that of the mass miracle worker, immediately decisive (so dear to miracle merchants) - a figure who easily takes hold of our imaginations.

We proclaim with words and gestures his authentic Face, precisely to destroy the idea of the Christ-ghost of the previous passage (v. 49), a deplorable and absurd figure.

An icon that is merely apologetic, which unfortunately in history has given ample space to those in business with the Most High.

Being healed does not mean escaping transience.

For a saved existence, a transformation from within is needed; another beginning. A different hold on goodness.

Jesus walks through our environments like a silent wayfarer, and even accepts a primitive faith.

But even with humble power, the divine impulse works in every seeker of meaning and in every needy person; it establishes itself personally, starting precisely from interrupted dreams.

The Lord cannot be imprisoned or contained: he approaches us to begin a great cleansing, to shift our gaze and renew the stale universe.

Thus he transforms us, in the experience of his gratuitous communion,

a coexistence that wants to take up residence in us, to merge and expand the drive for life (perhaps hidden in abstention) so that each of us may be amazed at ourselves, at unknown passions, at new relationships.

Believers and communities manifest in empathetic ways the incisive healing power of faith in the Risen One, starting from their own intimate experiences.

We experience this in our monotonous, unrewarding and precarious daily lives, which are nevertheless capable of changing the structure of existence hidden in summary districts (v. 56: 'borgate') and its unexpressed destination.

Without disturbing with special effects, unilateral or pressing.

The Tao Te Ching (xi) writes: 'Thirty spokes come together at a single hub, and in its non-being is the usefulness of the wheel'.

Elsewhere, the civilisation of appearances brings about the improvement of our condition and security (from insecurity) - not in a simple, indiscreet and temporary recovery.

Phenomenal, but only punctual and inconclusive, or ultimately abdicating.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you view Jesus? As a miracle worker or a saviour?

How do you behave towards those who are excluded or seem without a shepherd?

Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" – with these and similar words, the liturgy of the Church prays repeatedly [...]

These invocations were probably formulated during the decline of the Roman Empire. The disintegration of the fundamental legal systems and moral attitudes that gave them strength caused the collapse of the barriers that had hitherto protected peaceful coexistence among people. A world was coming to an end. Frequent natural disasters further increased this feeling of insecurity. There was no force in sight that could halt this decline. All the more insistent was the invocation of God's power: that He would come and protect men from all these threats.

"Excita, Domine, potentiam tuam, et veni" (Awaken, Lord, your power, and come). Even today, we have many reasons to join in this prayer [...] The world, with all its new hopes and possibilities, is at the same time distressed by the impression that moral consensus is dissolving, a consensus without which legal and political structures cannot function; as a result, the forces mobilised to defend these structures seem doomed to failure.

Excita – the prayer recalls the cry addressed to the Lord, who was sleeping in the disciples' boat, which was being tossed about by the storm and was about to sink. When his powerful word had calmed the storm, he rebuked the disciples for their lack of faith (cf. Mt 8:26 and par.). He meant: faith has fallen asleep in you. He means the same thing to us. Faith so often sleeps in us too. Let us therefore pray to Him to wake us from the sleep of a faith that has grown weary and to restore to faith the power to move mountains – that is, to put the things of the world in their proper order.

(Pope Benedict, to the Roman Curia, 20 December 2010)

Once, like the first disciples, we encountered the Lord and heard his words:  "Follow me!" Perhaps, to start with, we followed him somewhat hesitantly, looking back and wondering if this really was the road for us. And at some point on the journey, we may have had the same experience as Peter after the miraculous catch; in other words, we may have been frightened by its size, by the size of the task and by the inadequacy of our own poor selves, so that we wanted to turn back. "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord" (Lk 5: 8). 

Then,  however,  with  great  kindness, he took us by the hand, he drew us  to  himself  and  said  to  us:   "Do not fear! I am with you. I  will not abandon you, do not leave me!". 

And more than just once, the same thing that happened to Peter may have happened to us:  while he was walking on the water towards the Lord, he suddenly realized that the water was not holding him up and that he was beginning to sink. And like Peter we cried, "Lord, save me!" (Mt 14: 30). Seeing the elements raging on all sides, how could we get through the roaring, foaming waters of the past century, of the past millennium? 

But then we looked towards him... and he grasped us by the hand and gave us a new "specific weight":  the lightness that derives from faith and draws us upwards. Then he stretched out to us the hand that sustains and carries us. He supports us. Let us fix our gaze ever anew on him and reach out to him. Let us allow his hand to take ours, and then we will not sink but will serve the life that is stronger than death and the love that is stronger than hatred. 

Faith in Jesus, Son of the living God, is the means through which, time and again, we can take hold of Jesus' hand and in which he takes our hands and guides us. 

One of my favourite prayers is the request that the liturgy puts on our lips before Communion:  "...never let me be separated from you". Let us ask that we never fall away from communion with his Body, with Christ himself, that we do not fall away from the Eucharistic mystery. Let us ask that he will never let go of our hands...

[Pope Benedict, Chrism Mass homily, 13 April 2006]

4. In turn, the storm calmed on the Sea of Galilee can be reinterpreted as a "sign" of Christ's constant presence in the "boat" of the Church, which many times throughout history has been exposed to the fury of the winds in times of storm. Jesus, awakened by his disciples, commands the winds and the sea, and there is a great calm. Then he says to them, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" (Mk 4:40). In this, as in other episodes, we see Jesus' desire to instil in the apostles and disciples faith in his active and protective presence even in the most stormy hours of history, when doubt about his divine assistance could creep into their spirits. In fact, in homiletics and Christian spirituality, miracles have often been interpreted as "signs" of Jesus' presence and a guarantee of the trust that Christians and the Church place in him.

5. Jesus, walking on the water towards his disciples, offers another 'sign' of his presence and assures them of his constant vigilance over them and over the Church. 'Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid,' Jesus says to the apostles, who had taken him for a ghost (cf. Mk 6:49-50; cf. Mt 14:26-27; Jn 6:16-21). Mark notes the amazement of the apostles "because they did not understand the miracle of the loaves, and their hearts were hardened" (Mk 6:52). Matthew reports Peter's request to go down onto the water to meet Jesus and records his fear and his cry for help when he feels himself sinking. Jesus saves him but gently rebukes him: "You of little faith, why did you doubt?" (Mt 14:31). He also adds that "those in the boat bowed down before him, saying, 'Truly you are the Son of God'" (Mt 14:33).

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 2 December 1987]

This Sunday's Gospel passage (see Mt 14:22-33) speaks of Jesus walking on the water of the stormy lake. After feeding the crowds with five loaves and two fish – as we saw last Sunday – Jesus commands the disciples to get into the boat and return to the other shore. He dismisses the people and then climbs the hill, alone, to pray. He immerses Himself in communion with the Father.

During the crossing of the lake by night, the disciples' boat is hindered by a sudden wind storm. This is normal on a lake. At a certain point, they see someone walking on the water, coming toward them. Upset, they think it is a ghost and cry out in fear. Jesus reassures them: “Take heart, it is I; have no fear”. Then Peter – Peter who was so decisive – answers: “Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water”. A challenge. And Jesus tells him: “Come”. Peter gets out of the boat and takes a few steps; then the wind and waves frighten him and he begins to sink. “Lord, save me”, he cries, and Jesus grasps him by the hand and says to him: “O man of little faith, why did you doubt?”.

This Gospel narrative is an invitation to abandon ourselves trustingly to God in every moment of our life, especially in the moment of trial and turmoil. When we have strong feelings of doubt and fear and we seem to be sinking, in life’s difficult moments where everything becomes dark, we must not be ashamed to cry out like Peter: “Lord, save me” (v. 30). To knock on God’s heart, on Jesus’s heart. “Lord, save me.” It is a beautiful prayer! We can repeat it many times. “Lord, save me.” And Jesus’s gesture, who immediately reaches out His hand and grasps that of His friend, should be contemplated at length: this is Jesus. Jesus does this. Jesus is the Father’s hand who never abandons us, the strong and faithful hand of the Father, who always and only wants what is good for us. God is not in the loud sound, God is not the hurricane, He is not in the fire, He is not in the earthquake – as the narrative about the Prophet Elijah also recalls today that says God is the light breeze – literally it says this: He is in the “ thread of melodious silence” – that never imposes itself, but asks to be heard (see 1 Kgs 19:11-13). Having faith means keeping your heart turned to God, to His love, to His Fatherly tenderness, amid the storm. Jesus wanted to teach this to Peter and the disciples, and also to us today. In dark moments, in sad moments He is well aware that our faith is weak –all of us are people of little faith, all of us, myself included, everyone – and that our faith is weak our journey can be troubled, hindered by adverse forces. But He is the Risen One! Let’s not forget this: He is the Lord who passed through death in order to lead us to safety. Even before we begin to seek Him, He is present beside us lifting us back up after our falls, He helps us grow in faith. Maybe in the dark, we cry out: “Lord, Lord!” thinking He is far away. And He says, “I am here.” Ah, He was with me! That is the Lord.

The boat at the mercy of the storm is the image of the Church, which in every age encounters headwinds, very harsh trials at times: we recall certain long and ferocious persecutions of the last century and even today in certain places. In situations like that, she may be tempted to think that God has abandoned her. But in reality it is precisely in those moments that the witness of faith, the witness of love, the witness of hope shines the most. It is the presence of the Risen Christ in His Church that gives the grace of witness unto martyrdom, from which buds new Christians and fruit of reconciliation and peace for the entire world.

May the intercession of Mary help us to persevere in faith and fraternal love when the darkness and storms of life place our trust in God in crisis.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 9 August 2020]

(Mt 14:13-21)

Jesus wants that contributions, resources and abilities make synergy; that they offer themselves in service and come unite for the life of multitudes (vv.13-15.19).

The Eucharistic gesture - “breaking the existence” - says: new heavens and earth do not correspond to the world in which everyone hastens to reap for himself or his circle, in order to grab the maximum of resources.

Even the Apostles - called by Jesus and still at a safe distance from Him - are not the owners of the Bread, but those who must feed everyone (v.16), to create abundance where it’s not.

They must share, not command. And, in order to avoid impoverishment and damage to happiness, they must place themselves in a logic of overcoming.

The Son reflects God’s plan in compassion for the crowds in need of everything. Yet his solution does not fly over us - simply by wiping tears or erasing humiliations.

He invites us to use what we have, although it may seem ridiculous. But He teaches that shifting energies creates prodigious results.

Thus we respond in Christ to the great problems of the world: recovering the condition of ‘viator’ man - being in passing - and sharing goods.

Our real nakedness, the vicissitudes and experience of many brothers, different ones, are resources not to be evaluated with mistrust.

And the Lord disagrees with the idea that each gets off on his own (v.15).

He imposes on his intimates that «the crowds» (plurals) lie down in an atmosphere of abundance (v.19) as did the gentlemen and free people at solemn banquets.

He wants and insists that it’s first of all the disciples to serve (v.19), not other slaves.

And perhaps the most astounding detail is that to none of those present imposes preventive gestures of purification, as was customary in selective religiosity.

Before the meal it postulated the ritual ablution: a ceremony that emphasized a sacral detachment between pure and impure.

The only task of the disciples is to distribute Food to be shredded, sifted and assimilated personally, to build a new world.

In order to present ourselves before God, in religion we have a long rigmarole of fulfilments to observe, which sometimes normalise us.

On the journey of Faith, it is the gratuitous Encounter with the Lord that makes us grow and complete, making each one perfect and unconditionally pure.

In this, extracting authentic Pearls; just from our eccentricities character - those that are detached from the millimeter manners.

His Kingdom? Reign of invited and brothers, also disagree. No master or ruler - even if quicker and more able to manage himself.

The Eucharist thus remains an Appeal to real Conviviality [of differences as they are] and an evergreen Call not to be satisfied with individual devotions or with a harmonisable but empty spirituality.

To internalize and live the message:

How does the Eucharistic gesture speak to you of the Revolution of Tenderness, and of your Call by Name through the Church?

 [Monday 18th wk. in O.T.  August 4, 2025]