The double address of worship, but the Axis is to be with Him

(Lk 6:12-19)

"He went out to the mountain to pray and spent the night in prayer to God" (v.12).

"And the whole crowd sought to touch Him, for a Power went out from Him and healed all" (v.19).

Lk reflects the double direction of worship in the primitive communities.

First, the Prayer as a significant opening to the Father and internal celebration among disciples (vv.13-17). Then the public proclamation (with works) to the people.

The community is close: God is in our history.

The idea of a distant Kingdom produces separations, (pastorally) inconsistent pyramidal hierarchies. Sometimes, dispersive cultivation of internal interests passed off as great sensitivity and altruism.

In short, to walk seriously alongside oneself and others, it is essential to first mature, wherever we live.

This applies to taking different initiatives; even possibly to rebelling against the stagnant landscape that likes to return to old-fashioned securities.

In this way, there may be less than noble motives for wanting to get everywhere at once, to run everywhere to make proselytes, and to do so out of opposition, without a "dream of friendship" [cf. encyclical Fratelli Tutti, passim].

For he who cultivates many lusts, projects them; he procures his own murky influences.

That is why prayer and reflection are necessary - indispensable also to Jesus (v.12) - which give us the sense of our being in the world, the Father's vision, and a right disposition.

Deep meditations and spontaneous prayers annihilate infidelities that do not offer genuine life, authentic motives, or values of the spirit.

Prayers undermine and demolish the dehumanisations, the emotions that alienate us and alienate us from our brothers, the pitfalls that tend to build other temples and shrines.

The same charge of universality and 'sense of urgency' are contained in the rootedness to values conveyed by dialogue with God. And his Mystery (for us), in relationships, in intimate self-knowledge.

Indeed... stimuli, virtuous principles, gaps and hidden sides are complementary energetic aspects.

It seems a paradox, but the interest in the needs of the multitudes is an issue exquisitely rooted in the intimate, not at all external.

It is from oneself and from the community that one looks at the world with empathy, knowing how to recover its opposites.

It is the Way of the Interior that interpenetrates and activates the Way of the Exterior.

This is how we willingly pray: to immerse ourselves in the vibrant Source of being, and to shift our hasty gaze.

By contrast and hindrance, the habitual partiality that "gets in the way" does not grasp the value of the social and cultural polyhedron.

On the other hand, unfortunately, it is only by loving strength that one prefers to start from the too distant.

One must first heal what is intimate and close. He who is not free cannot emancipate anyone.

Thus, the only way to peer into the distance is to stick to the reason of things - the principle that one actively knows, if not misled by superficialities and reductions [individualistic or monovalent, one-sided and club-like].

By understanding the nature of creatures and increasingly conforming to it, all are inspired to transmute and complete themselves.

A non-alienating process that also enriches possible cultural sclerosis, without hysterical or external forcing.

All this, practising goodness even with oneself.

The Tao (XLVII) says: "Without going out the door, you know the world; without looking out the window, you glimpse the Way to Heaven. The farther you go, the less you know. That is why the saint does not go around and yet knows, does not see and yet discerns, does not act and yet completes".

It is only from the Source of being - the common home - that an undissociated, all-saved life springs forth, one that effectively endures and can expand. 

Are we a sign of dedication and striving people? We do not do this for 'merit' or to gain sympathy.

Without being a cult, after a good training - which also imparts to us a wise tolerance, from the world within.

No extrinsic purpose, which would lose its soul and bring no change.

Not to distinguish the moment of Vocation from the moment of ministerial sending.

The way to Heaven is intertwined with the way of the Person and with the way of Nature ["like a sister, with whom we share existence, and like a beautiful mother who welcomes us into her arms": Laudato Si', no.1] or we will be busybodies.

None of the Apostles - ordinary people - were worthy of the Call (vv.13-15).

To understand this, and approach the meaning of their missional uniqueness, Jesus must spend an entire night in prayer (v.12).

Most of the first followers have names typical of Judaism, even of the time of the Patriarchs - indicating a mental and spiritual background rooted more in the ancient religion than in the new Faith; baggage not easy to handle.But even for the undecided, the Lord unleashes his power of full Life, precisely because he is an absolutely ordinary person full of limitations; not infrequently perplexed, even open opponents.

Peter was eager to come forward, though often backtracking - backtracking - to the point of becoming for Jesus a 'satan' [(Mt 16:23; Mk 8:33): in the culture of the ancient East, an official of the great ruler, sent to act as a controller and delator - practically an accuser].

James of Zebedee and John were brothers, ardent fundamentalists, and in a wrathful manner wanted the Master for themselves alone, as well as the first places.

Philip [conditioned perhaps by a Hellenistic extraction, as his name indicates] at first sight did not seem a very practical fellow, nor quick to grasp the things of God.

Andrew, on the other hand, seemed to do well: an inclusive person.

According to well-known traditional identifications, Bartholomew was perhaps open but perplexed, because the Messiah did not correspond to him much.

Thomas always a little in and a little out.

Matthew - a collaborator, greedy accomplice of the oppressive system, and willingly extorting money from his people [the people ruthlessly condemned him].

Simon - the zealot, the Canaanite - a hothead.

Judas Iscariot a tormented, self-destructive for trusting old spiritual leaders - imbued with nationalist ideology, self-interest, opportunism and power.

Two others (James the younger son of Alphaeus, and Judas Thaddeus) mere disciples perhaps of no great prominence or capacity for initiative.

But the Kingdom is "local and universal" [Fratelli Tutti, nn.142-153], Near and by Name - as the Gospel passage from Lk.

This is the manifold, grasping, incomparable, close and precisely personal power that overcomes any possibility of ideal sabotage (due to adverse circumstances).

Power drawn both from prayer directed to the Father in Christ - in his nightly Listening (v.12) - as well as from works of love (vv.17-19).

Power in personal, sensitive, shared symbiosis.

Not for the excellent alone... or even in the time of global emergency there will be no healing work (v.19) but only external, accusatory and aimed at propaganda, proselytism.

Announcement and Mission of new Light received in Gift: where precisely not a single form or colour appears.

And the Axis is "being" with Him.

"This is what tradition has then formulated with the well-known expression: 'Contemplata aliis tradere' (cf. St Thomas, Summa Theologiae, IIa-IIae, q. 188, art. 6)". [Pope Benedict].

For a contagion that is neither alarmist nor one-sided, monochromatic, but flourishing, multifaceted, sometimes 'hidden', and restless.

To internalise and live the message:

In your experience, what chain has united heaven and earth?

The (accusatory) list and effort of transgressions to be neurotically corrected?

Or a personal Calling, inclusive of your many faces in the soul - a Vocation supported by a Church that became an echo and a free Source of all-round understanding?

The Church was built on the foundation of the Apostles as a community of faith, hope and charity. Through the Apostles, we come to Jesus himself. The Church begins to establish herself when some fishermen of Galilee meet Jesus, allowing themselves to be won over by his gaze, his voice, his warm and strong invitation:  "Follow me, and I will make you become fishers of men" (Mk 1: 17; Mt 4: 19). 

At the start of the third millennium, my beloved Predecessor John Paul II invited the Church to contemplate the Face of Christ (cf. Novo Millennio Ineunte, n. 16 ff.). Continuing in the same direction, I would like to show, in the Catechesis that I begin today, how it is precisely the light of that Face that is reflected on the face of the Church (cf. Lumen Gentium, n. 1), notwithstanding the limits and shadows of our fragile and sinful humanity.

After Mary, a pure reflection of the light of Christ, it is from the Apostles, through their word and witness, that we receive the truth of Christ. Their mission is not isolated, however, but is situated within a mystery of communion that involves the entire People of God and is carried out in stages from the Old to the New Covenant. 

In this regard, it must be said that the message of Jesus is completely misunderstood if it is separated from the context of the faith and hope of the Chosen People:  like John the Baptist, his direct Precursor, Jesus above all addresses Israel (cf. Mt 15: 24) in order to "gather" it together in the eschatological time that arrived with him. And like that of John, the preaching of Jesus is at the same time a call of grace and a sign of contradiction and of justice for the entire People of God. 

And so, from the first moment of his salvific activity, Jesus of Nazareth strives to gather together the People of God. Even if his preaching is always an appeal for personal conversion, in reality he continually aims to build the People of God whom he came to bring together, purify and save. 

As a result, therefore, an individualistic interpretation of Christ's proclamation of the Kingdom, specific to liberal theology, is unilateral and without foundation, as a great liberal theologian Adolf von Harnack summed it up in the year 1900 in his lessons on The essence of Christianity:  "The Kingdom of God, insofar as it comes in single individuals, is able to enter their soul and is welcomed by them. The Kingdom of God is the dominion of God, certainly, but it is the dominion of the holy God in individual hearts" (cf. Third Lesson, 100 ff.). 

In reality, this individualism of liberal theology is a typically modern accentuation:  in the perspective of biblical tradition and on the horizon of Judaism, where the work of Jesus is situated in all its novelty, it is clear that the entire mission of the Son-made-flesh has a communitarian finality. He truly came to unite dispersed humanity; he truly came to unite the People of God.

An evident sign of the intention of the Nazarene to gather together the community of the Covenant, to demonstrate in it the fulfilment of the promises made to the Fathers who always speak of convocation, unification, unity, is the institution of the Twelve. We heard about this institution of the Twelve in the Gospel reading. I shall read the central passage again:  "And he went up into the hills and called to him those whom he desired; and they came to him. And he appointed twelve to be with him, and to be sent out to preach and have authority to cast out demons. The names of the twelve Apostles are these..." (Mk 3: 13-16; cf. Mt 10: 1-4; Lk 6: 12-16). 

On the site of the revelation, "the mount", taking initiative that demonstrates absolute awareness and determination, Jesus establishes the Twelve so that, together with him, they are witnesses and heralds of the coming of the Kingdom of God. 

There are no doubts about the historicity of this call, not only because of the antiquity and multiplicity of witnesses, but also for the simple reason that there is also the name of Judas, the Apostle who betrayed him, notwithstanding the difficulties that this presence could have caused the new community. 

The number 12, which evidently refers to the 12 tribes of Israel, already reveals the meaning of the prophetic-symbolic action implicit in the new initiative to re-establish the holy people. As the system of the 12 tribes had long since faded out, the hope of Israel awaited their restoration as a sign of the eschatological time (as referred to at the end of the Book of Ezekiel:  37: 15-19; 39: 23-29; 40-48). 

In choosing the Twelve, introducing them into a communion of life with himself and involving them in his mission of proclaiming the Kingdom in words and works (cf. Mk 6: 7-13; Mt 10: 5-8; Lk 9: 1-6; 6: 13), Jesus wants to say that the definitive time has arrived in which to constitute the new People of God, the people of the 12 tribes, which now becomes a universal people, his Church.
Appeal for Israel 

With their very own existence, the Twelve - called from different backgrounds - become an appeal for all of Israel to convert and allow herself to be gathered into the new covenant, complete and perfect fulfilment of the ancient one. The fact that he entrusted to his Apostles, during the Last Supper and before his Passion, the duty to celebrate his Pasch, demonstrates how Jesus wished to transfer to the entire community, in the person of its heads, the mandate to be a sign and instrument in history of the eschatological gathering begun by him. In a certain sense we can say that the Last Supper itself is the act of foundation of the Church, because he gives himself and thus creates a new community, a community united in communion with himself. 

In this light, one understands how the Risen One confers upon them, with the effusion of the Spirit, the power to forgive sins (cf. Jn 20: 23). Thus, the Twelve Apostles are the most evident sign of Jesus' will regarding the existence and mission of his Church, the guarantee that between Christ and the Church there is no opposition:  despite the sins of the people who make up the Church, they are inseparable.

Therefore, a slogan that was popular some years back:  "Jesus yes, Church no", is totally inconceivable with the intention of Christ. This individualistically chosen Jesus is an imaginary Jesus.

We cannot have Jesus without the reality he created and in which he communicates himself. Between the Son of God-made-flesh and his Church there is a profound, unbreakable and mysterious continuity by which Christ is present today in his people. He is always contemporary with us, he is always contemporary with the Church, built on the foundation of the Apostles and alive in the succession of the Apostles. And his very presence in the community, in which he himself is always with us, is the reason for our joy. Yes, Christ is with us, the Kingdom of God is coming.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience 15 March 2006]

1. A priestly, sacramental, prophetic community, the Church was established by Jesus Christ as a structured, hierarchical and ministerial society, in function of the pastoral governance for the formation and continuous growth of the community. The first subjects of this ministerial and pastoral function are the twelve Apostles, chosen by Jesus Christ as the visible foundations of his Church. As the Second Vatican Council says, "Jesus Christ, the eternal Shepherd, built up the holy Church and sent the Apostles as He Himself was sent by the Father (cf. Jn 20:21), and He willed that their successors, that is, the bishops, should be shepherds in His Church until the end of time" (LG 18). This passage from the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church - Lumen Gentium - reminds us first of all of the original and unique position of the Apostles in the institutional framework of the Church. From the Gospel story we know that Jesus called disciples to follow him and from among them he chose twelve (cf. Lk 6:13).

The evangelical narration makes us know that for Jesus it was a decisive choice, made after a night of prayer (cf. Lk 6:12); a choice made with a sovereign freedom: Mark tells us that Jesus, having ascended the mountain, called to himself "those whom he wanted" (Mk 3:13). The Gospel texts record the names of the individuals called (cf. Mk 3:16-19 et par.): a sign that their importance was perceived and recognised in the early Church.

2. By creating the group of the Twelve, Jesus created the Church, as a visible structured society at the service of the Gospel and the coming of the Kingdom of God. The number twelve referred to the twelve tribes of Israel, and Jesus' use of it reveals his intention to create a new Israel, the new people of God established as the Church. Jesus' creative intention transpires from the same verb used by Mark to describe the institution: 'He made twelve . . . He made the twelve'. "Make" recalls the verb used in the Genesis account about the creation of the world and in Deutero-Isaiah (Is 43:1; 44:2) about the creation of God's people, ancient Israel. The creative will is also expressed in the new names given to Simon (Peter) and James and John (Sons of Thunder), but also to the group or college as a whole. In fact, Luke writes that Jesus "chose twelve, to whom he gave the name of apostles" (Lk 6:13). The Twelve Apostles thus became a characteristic, distinct and, in some respects, unrepeatable socio-ecclesial reality. In their group emerged the Apostle Peter, about whom Jesus manifested more explicitly his intention to found a new Israel, with the name given to Simon: "stone", on which Jesus wanted to build his Church (cf. Mt 16:18).

3. Jesus' purpose in establishing the Twelve is defined by Mark: "He made twelve of them to be with him, and also to send them out to preach, and that they might have power to cast out demons" (Mk 3:14-15). The first constitutive element of the group of the Twelve is therefore an absolute attachment to Christ: they are people called to "be with him", that is, to follow him, leaving everything behind. The second element is the missionary element, expressed on the model of the mission of Jesus himself, who preached and cast out demons. The mission of the Twelve is a participation in Christ's mission by men closely linked to him as disciples, friends, trustees.

4. In the mission of the Apostles, the evangelist Mark emphasises "the power to cast out demons". It is a power over the power of evil, which in a positive sense means the power to give men the salvation of Christ, the One who casts out the "prince of this world" (John 12, 31). Luke confirms the meaning of this power and the purpose of the institution of the Twelve by quoting the word of Jesus giving the Apostles authority in the Kingdom: "You are the ones who have persevered with me in my trials. And I lay down for you a kingdom as the Father has laid down for me" (Lk 22:28). Also in this statement, perseverance in union with Christ and the authority granted in the kingdom are intimately linked. It is a pastoral authority, as is evident from the text on the mission specifically entrusted to Peter: 'Shepherd my lambs . . . Shepherd my sheep" (John 21: 15-17). Peter personally receives supreme authority in the shepherding mission. This mission is exercised as participation in the authority of the one Shepherd and Master, Christ. The supreme authority entrusted to Peter does not cancel the authority given to the other Apostles in the kingdom. The pastoral mission is shared by the Twelve under the authority of the one universal Shepherd, mandatary and representative of the Good Shepherd, Christ.

5. The specific tasks inherent in the mission entrusted by Jesus Christ to the Twelve are the following: a) mission and power to evangelise all nations, as the three Synoptics clearly attest (cf. Mt 28:18-20; Mk 16:16-18; Lk 24:45-48). Among them, Matthew highlights the relationship established by Jesus himself between his messianic power and the mandate he gave to the Apostles: "All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations" (Mt 28:18). The Apostles will be able and must carry out their mission by the power of Christ manifested in them. b) mission and power to baptise (Mt 28:19), as the fulfilment of Christ's mandate, with a baptism in the name of the Most Holy Trinity (Ibid), which will be carried out in the name of the Most Holy Trinity (Ibid). Trinity (Ibid), which, being linked to the paschal mystery of Christ, in the Acts of the Apostles is also considered as baptism in the name of Jesus (cf. Acts 2:38; 8:16). c) mission and power to celebrate the Eucharist: "Do this in memory of me" (Lk 22:19; 1 Cor 11:24-25). The commission to redo what Jesus accomplished at the Last Supper, with the consecration of the bread and wine, implies a power of the highest level; to say in the name of Christ: "This is my body", "this is my blood", is almost an identification with Christ in the sacramental act. d) mission and power to forgive sins (Jn 20:22-23). It is a participation of the Apostles in the power of the Son of Man to forgive sins on earth (cf. Mk 2:10): that power which in Jesus' public life had caused the astonishment of the crowd, of which the evangelist Matthew tells us that they "gave glory to God who had given such power to men" (Mt 9:8).

6. To fulfil this mission, the Apostles received, besides power, the special gift of the Holy Spirit (cf. Jn 20:21-22), which was manifested at Pentecost, according to Jesus' promise (cf. Acts 1:8). By virtue of this gift, from the moment of Pentecost they began to fulfil the mandate of evangelising all peoples. The Second Vatican Council tells us this in the Constitution Lumen Gentium: "The Apostles . . . preaching everywhere the Gospel, accepted by the hearers through the motion of the Holy Spirit, gather together the universal Church, which the Lord founded on the Apostles and built on blessed Peter, their head, while Jesus Christ himself is its cornerstone (cf. Rev 21:14; Mt 16:18; Eph 2:20)" (LG 19).

7. The mission of the Twelve included a fundamental role reserved for them, which would not be inherited by others: to be eyewitnesses of the life, death and resurrection of Christ (cf. Lk 24:48), to transmit his message to the primitive community, as a hinge between divine revelation and the Church, and for this very reason to initiate the Church in the name and by virtue of Christ, under the action of the Holy Spirit. For this function of theirs, the Twelve Apostles constitute a group of unique importance in the Church, which since the Niceno-Constantinopolitan Symbol is defined as apostolic (Credo una sanctam, catholicam et 'apostolicam' Ecclesiam) because of this indissoluble link to the Twelve. This explains why also in the liturgy the Church has included and reserved special solemn celebrations in honour of the Apostles.

8. However, Jesus conferred on the Apostles a mission of evangelisation of all nations, which takes a very long time, and indeed lasts "until the end of the world" (Mt 28:20). The Apostles understood that it was Christ's will that they should provide successors, who, as their heirs and legates, would carry on their mission. They therefore established "episcopes and deacons" in the various communities "and arranged that after their death other approved men should receive their succession in the ministry" (Clement of Rome, Ep. Ad Cor., 44, 2; cf. 42, 1. 4). In this way Christ established a hierarchical and ministerial structure of the Church, formed by the Apostles and their successors; a structure that did not derive from a previously established community, but was created directly by him. The Apostles were, at one and the same time, the seeds of the new Israel and the origin of the sacred hierarchy, as stated in the Council's Constitution Ad Gentes (AG 5). This structure therefore belongs to the very nature of the Church, according to the divine plan realised by Jesus. According to this same plan, it has an essential role in the entire development of the Christian community, from the day of Pentecost to the end of time, when in the heavenly Jerusalem all the elect will fully participate in the 'New Life' for eternity.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 1 July 1992]

"Prayer and witness" are the "two tasks of the bishops" who are "pillars of the Church". But if they weaken, the whole people of God suffers. That is why, Pope Francis asked during the mass celebrated on Friday morning 22 January in the chapel of the Casa Santa Marta, we must pray insistently for the successors of the twelve apostles.

The Pontiff's reflection on the figure and mission of the bishop started from the passage from the evangelist Mark (3:13-19) proclaimed during today's liturgy. "There is a word in this Gospel passage that attracts attention: Jesus 'constituted'". And this word "appears twice". In fact, Mark writes: "'He constituted twelve, whom he called apostles'". And then he resumes: 'He therefore constituted the twelve', and names them, one after the other'. Therefore, the Pontiff explained, 'Jesus, among so many people who followed him - the Gospel tells us - "called to himself those he wanted"'. In short, 'there is a choice: Jesus chose those whom He wanted'. And, indeed, "he constituted twelve. Whom he called apostles'. In fact, Francis continued, "there were others: there were the disciples" and "the Gospel speaks of seventy-two, on one occasion". But 'these were something else'.

The "twelve are constituted so that they might be with Him and to send them out to preach with the power to cast out demons," the Pope explained. "This is the most important group that Jesus chose, 'so that they might be with Him', closer, 'and to send them out to preach' the Gospel." And "with the power to cast out demons," Mark further added. Precisely those 'twelve are the first bishops, the first group of bishops'.

These twelve 'chosen ones,' Francis noted, 'were aware of the importance of this election, so much so that after Jesus had been taken up into heaven, Peter spoke to the others and explained to them that, given Judas' betrayal, it was necessary to do something'. And so from among those who had been with Jesus, from John's baptism until his ascension, they chose "a witness 'with us' - says Peter - of the resurrection". Here, continued the Pope, that "the place of Judas is filled, it is taken by Matthias: Matthias is chosen".

Then "the liturgy of the Church, referring to "some expressions of Paul", calls the twelve "the pillars of the Church". Yes, said the Pontiff, 'the apostles are the pillars of the Church. And the bishops are the columns of the Church. That election of Matthias was the first episcopal ordination of the Church'.

"I would like to say a few words today about bishops," Francis confided. "We bishops have this responsibility to be witnesses: witnesses that the Lord Jesus is alive, that the Lord Jesus is risen, that the Lord Jesus walks with us, that the Lord Jesus saves us, that the Lord Jesus gave his life for us, that the Lord Jesus is our hope, that the Lord Jesus always welcomes us and forgives us." Here is 'the testimony'. Consequently, he continued, 'our life must be this: a testimony, a true testimony to the resurrection of Christ'.

And when Jesus, as Mark recounts, makes "this choice" of the twelve, he has two reasons. Firstly, "so that they might be with Him". Therefore "the bishop has the obligation to be with Jesus". Yes, "it is the bishop's first obligation: to be with Jesus". And it is true "to such an extent that when the problem arose, in the early days, that orphans and widows were not well cared for, the bishops - these twelve - got together and thought about what to do". And "they introduced the figure of the deacons, saying: 'Let the deacons take care of the orphans, of the widows'". While the twelve, "says Peter", are assigned "two tasks: prayer and the proclamation of the Gospel".

Therefore, Francis reiterated, "the first task of the bishop is to be with Jesus in prayer". In fact, "the bishop's first task is not to make pastoral plans... no, no!". It is "to pray: this is the first task". While 'the second task is to be a witness, that is to preach: to preach the salvation that the Lord Jesus brought us'.

They are 'two tasks that are not easy,' the Pontiff acknowledged, 'but it is precisely these two tasks that make the columns of the Church strong'. In fact, "if these columns weaken, because the bishop does not pray or prays little, he forgets to pray; or because the bishop does not proclaim the Gospel, he occupies himself with other things, the Church also weakens; it suffers. The people of God suffer". Precisely 'because the pillars are weak'.

For this reason, Francis said, 'I would like to invite you today to pray for us bishops: because we too are sinners, we too have weaknesses, we too have the danger of Judas: he too was elected as a pillar'. Yes, he continued, 'we too run the danger of not praying, of doing something other than proclaiming the Gospel and casting out demons'. Hence, the Pope reiterated, the invitation to "pray that the bishops be what Jesus wanted and that we all bear witness to the resurrection of Jesus".

Moreover, he added, "the people of God pray for the bishops, in every mass we pray for the bishops: we pray for Peter, the head of the episcopal college, and we pray for the local bishop". But 'this may not be enough: one says the name out of habit and moves on'. It is important "to pray for the bishop with the heart, to ask the Lord: 'Lord, take care of my bishop; take care of all the bishops, and send us bishops who are true witnesses, bishops who pray and bishops who help us, with their preaching, to understand the Gospel, to be sure that You, Lord, are alive, are among us'".

Before resuming the celebration, the Pope suggested, again, to pray "therefore for our bishops: it is a task of the faithful". In fact, 'the Church without a bishop cannot go on'. Here, then, that "the prayer of all of us for our bishops is an obligation, but an obligation of love, an obligation of children towards the Father, an obligation of brothers, so that the family may remain united in the confession of Jesus Christ, living and risen".

[Pope Francis, St. Martha, in L'Osservatore Romano 23/01/2016]

29th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [19 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us. Once again, a strong reminder of how to live our faith in every situation in life.

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (17:8-13)

 The test of faith. On Israel's journey through the desert, the encounter with the Amalekites marks a decisive stage: it is the first battle of the people freed from Egypt, but also the first great test of their faith. The Amalekites, descendants of Esau, represent in biblical tradition the hereditary enemy, a figure of evil who tries to prevent God's people from reaching the promised land. Their sudden attack on the rear of the caravan — the weakest and most tired — reveals the logic of evil: to strike where faith falters, where fatigue and fear open the door to doubt. This episode takes place at Rephidim, the same place as Massah and Meribah, where Israel had already murmured against God because of the lack of water. There the people had experienced the trial of thirst, now they experience the trial of combat: in both cases, the temptation is the same — to think that God is no longer with them. But once again God intervenes, showing that faith is purified through struggle and that trust must remain firm even in danger. While Joshua fights in the plain, Moses climbs the mountain with God's staff in his hand — a sign of his presence and power. The story does not focus on the movements of the troops, but on Moses' gesture: his hands raised towards the sky. It is not a magical gesture: it is prayer that sustains the battle, faith that becomes strength for the whole people. When Moses' arms fall, Israel loses; when they remain raised, Israel wins. Victory therefore depends not only on the strength of weapons, but on communion with God and persevering prayer. Moses grows tired, Aaron and Hur support his hands: this is the image of spiritual brotherhood, of the community that bears the weight of faith together. Thus, prayer is not isolation, but solidarity: those who pray support others, and those who fight draw strength from the prayers of their brothers and sisters. This episode thus becomes a paradigm of spiritual life: Israel, fragile and still on its journey, learns that victory does not come from human strength, but from trust in God. Prayer, represented by Moses' raised hands, does not replace action but accompanies and transfigures it. The person who prays and the person who fights are two faces of the same believer: one fights in the world, the other intercedes before God, and both participate in the one work of salvation. Finally, the praying community becomes the living sign of God's presence at work in his people, and when a believer no longer has the strength to pray, the faith of his brothers and sisters sustains him. The story of Amalek at Rephidim is not just a page in history, but an icon of Christian life: we all live our battles knowing that victory belongs to God and that prayer is the source of all strength and the guarantee of God's presence.

Responsorial Psalm (120/121) 

Psalm 120/121 belongs to the group of 'Psalms of Ascents' (Ps 120-134), composed to accompany the pilgrimages of the people of Israel to Jerusalem, the holy city situated on high, symbol of the place where God dwells among his people. The verb 'to ascend' indicates not only geographical ascent but also and above all a spiritual movement, a conversion of the heart that brings the believer closer to God. Each pilgrimage was a sign of the Covenant and an act of faith for Israel: the people, travelling from all parts of the country, renewed their trust in the Lord. When the psalm speaks in the first person — "I lift up my eyes to the mountains" — it actually gives voice to the collective "we" of all Israel, the people marching towards God. This journey is an image of the entire history of Israel, a long march in which fatigue, waiting, danger and trust are intertwined. The roads that lead to Jerusalem, in addition to being stone roads, are spiritual paths marked by trials and risks. Fatigue, loneliness, external threats — robbers, animals, scorching sun, cold nights — become symbols of the difficulties of faith. In this situation, the words of the psalm are a profession of absolute trust: "My help comes from the Lord: he   made heaven and earth." These words affirm that true help comes not from human powers or mute idols, but from the living God, Creator of the universe, who never sleeps and never abandons his people. He is called "the Guardian of Israel": the one who watches over us constantly, who accompanies us, who is close to us like a shadow that protects us from the sun and the moon. The Hebrew expression "at your right hand" indicates an intimate and faithful presence, like that of an inseparable companion. The people who pray this psalm thus remember the pillar of cloud and fire that guided Israel in the desert, a sign of God who protects day and night, accompanying them on their journey and guarding their lives. Therefore, the psalmist can say: 'The Lord will guard you from all evil; he will guard your life. The Lord will guard you when you go out and when you come in, from now on and forever." The pilgrim who "goes up" to Jerusalem becomes the image of the believer who entrusts himself to God alone, renouncing idols and false securities. This movement is conversion: turning away from what is vain to turn towards the God who saves. In the New Testament, Jesus himself was able to pray this psalm as he "went up to Jerusalem" (Lk 9:51). He walks the path of Israel and of every human being, entrusting his life to the Father. The words "The Lord will guard your life" find their full fulfilment at Easter, when the pilgrim's return becomes resurrection because it is a return to new and definitive life. Thus, Psalm 121 is much more than a prayer for travel: it is the confession of faith of a people on a journey, the proclamation that God is faithful and that his presence accompanies every step of existence. In it, historical memory, theological trust and eschatological hope come together. Israel, the believer and Christ himself share the same certainty: God guards life and every ascent, even the most difficult, leads to communion with Him.

Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (3:14-4:2)

In this passage from the second letter to Timothy (3:14-4:2), Paul entrusts his disciple with the most precious legacy: fidelity to the Word of God. It is a text written at a difficult time, marked by doctrinal confusion and tensions in the community of Ephesus. Timothy is called to be a 'guardian of the Word' in the midst of a world that risks losing the truth it has received. The first words, 'Remain faithful to what you have learned', make it clear that others have abandoned the apostolic teaching: fidelity then becomes an act of spiritual resistance, a remaining anchored to the source. Paul speaks of 'dwelling' in the Word: faith is not an object to be possessed, but an environment in which to live. Timothy entered into it as a child thanks to his mother Eunice and his grandmother Lois, women of faith who passed on to him a love for the Scriptures. Here we have a reference to the communal and traditional character of faith: no one discovers the Word on their own, but always in the Church. Access to Scripture takes place within the living Tradition, that 'chain' that starts with Christ, passes through the apostles and continues in believers. 'Tradere' in Latin means 'to transmit': what is received is given. In this fidelity, Scripture is a source of living water that regenerates the believer and roots him in the truth. Paul affirms that the Holy Scriptures can instruct for the salvation that is obtained through faith in Christ Jesus (v. 15). The Old Testament is the path that leads to Christ: the entire history of Israel prepares for the fulfilment of the Paschal mystery. 'All Scripture is inspired by God': even before it became dogma, it was the deep conviction of the people of Israel, from which arose respect for the holy books kept in the synagogues. Divine inspiration does not cancel out the human word, but transfigures it, making it an instrument of the Spirit. Scripture, therefore, is not just another book, but a living presence of God that forms, educates, corrects and sanctifies: thanks to it, the man of God will be perfect, equipped for every good work (vv. 16-17). From this source springs the mission, and Paul entrusts Timothy with the decisive command: "Proclaim the Word, insist on it at the opportune and inopportune moment" (v. 4:2) because the proclamation of the Gospel is a necessity, not an optional task. The solemn reference to Christ's judgement of the living and the dead shows the gravity of apostolic responsibility. Proclaiming the Word means making present the Logos, that is, Christ himself, the living Word of the Father. It is He who communicates himself through the voice of the preacher and the life of the witness. But proclamation requires courage and patience: it is necessary to speak when it is convenient and when it is not, to admonish, correct, encourage, always with a spirit of charity and a desire to build up the community. Truth without love hurts; love without truth empties the Word. For Paul, Scripture is not only memory, but the dynamism of the Spirit. It shapes the mind and heart, forms judgement, inspires choices. Those who dwell in it become "men of God," that is, persons shaped by the Word and made capable of serving. Timothy is invited not only to guard the doctrine, but to make it a source of life for himself and for others. Thus, the Word, accepted and lived, becomes a place of encounter with Christ and a source of renewal for the Church. The apostle does not found anything of his own, but transmits what he has received; in the same way, every believer is called to become a link in this living chain, so that the Word may continue to flow in the world like water that quenches, purifies and fertilises. In summary: Scripture is the source of faith, Tradition is the river that transmits it, and proclamation is the fruit that nourishes the life of the Church. To remain in the Word means to remain in Christ; to proclaim it means to let Him act and speak through us. Only in this way does the man of God become fully formed and the community grow in truth and charity.

From the Gospel according to Luke (18:1-8)

The context of this parable is that of the 'end times': Jesus is walking towards Jerusalem, towards His Passion, death and Resurrection. The disciples perceive the tragic and mysterious epilogue, feel the need for greater faith ('Increase our faith') and are anxious to understand the coming of the Kingdom of God. The term 'Son of Man', already present in Daniel (7), indicates the one who comes on the clouds, receives universal and eternal kingship, and also represents, in the original sense, a collective being, the people of the Saints of the Most High. Jesus uses it to refer to himself, reassuring his disciples about God's ultimate victory, even in a context of imminent difficulties. The reference to judgement and the Kingdom emphasises the eschatological perspective: God will do justice to his chosen ones, the Kingdom has already begun, but it will be fully realised at the end. The parable of the persistent widow is at the heart of the message: before an unjust judge, the widow is not discouraged because her cause is just. This example combines two virtues essential to Christians: humility, recognising one's poverty (first beatitude: 'Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God'), and perseverance, confident insistence in prayer and justice. The widow's persistence becomes a paradigm for faith in waiting for the Kingdom: our cause, too, based on God's will, requires tenacity. The text also recalls the connection with the episode in the Old Testament: during the battle against the Amalekites, Moses prays persistently on the hill while Joshua fights on the plain. The victory of the people depends on the presence and intervention of God, supported by Moses' persevering prayer. The parable of the widow has the same function: to remind believers, of all times, that faith is a continuous struggle, a test of endurance in the face of difficulties, opposition and doubts. Jesus' concluding question, "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?", is a universal warning: faith should never be taken for granted; it must be guarded, nurtured and protected. From the early morning of the Resurrection until the final coming of the Son of Man, faith is a struggle of constancy and trust, even when the Kingdom seems far away. The widow teaches us how to face the wait: humble, stubborn, confident, aware of our weakness but certain of God's justice and saving will, which never disappoints those who trust in him totally. Luke seems to be writing to a community threatened by discouragement, as suggested by the final sentence: 'When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?'. This phrase, while appearing pessimistic, is actually a warning to be vigilant: faith must be guarded and nurtured, not taken for granted. The text forms an inclusion: the first sentence teaches what faith is — 'We must always pray without losing heart' — and the final sentence calls for perseverance. Between the two, the example of the stubborn widow, treated unjustly but who does not give up, shows concretely how to practise this faith. The overall teaching is clear: faith is a constant commitment, an active resistance, which requires stubbornness, humility and trust in God's justice, even in the face of difficulties and the apparent absence of a response.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

XXVIII Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [12 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin Mary protect us! Reflecting on the gratitude that is easier to see in those who are far away is an invitation to review our personal relationship with God.

First Reading from the Second Book of Kings (5:14-17)

This Sunday's reading begins at the moment when General Naaman, apparently as docile as a lamb, immerses himself in the waters of the Jordan, on the orders of the prophet Elisha; but we are missing the beginning of the story: let me tell it to you. Naaman is a Syrian general highly esteemed by the king of Aram (present-day Damascus). Obviously, for the people of Israel, he is a foreigner and at times even an enemy, and above all, being a pagan, he does not belong to the chosen people. Even more serious: he is a leper, which means that soon everyone will avoid him, and for him it is a real curse. Fortunately for him, his wife has an Israelite slave girl who tells her mistress, 'There is a great prophet in Samaria who could surely heal Naaman'. The mistress tells her husband Naaman, who tells the king of Aram: the prophet of Samaria can heal me. And since Naaman is in great favour, the king writes a letter of introduction to the king of Samaria recommending Naaman, who is afflicted with leprosy, to go to the prophet Elisha. The king of Israel does not know that the prophet Elisha can heal him; on the contrary, he is in a panic because he thinks that the king of Syria is looking for a pretext to wage war on him. Elisha hears about this and asks Naaman to come. Naaman arrives with his entire entourage and luggage full of gifts for the healer. In reality, only a servant opens the door slightly and simply tells him that his master orders him to immerse himself seven times in the Jordan to be purified.  Naaman finds this offensive and wonders what is the point of immersing himself in the Jordan when there are rivers in Syria that are much more beautiful than the Jordan. Enraged, he sets off again for Damascus, but fortunately his servants say to him: 'Did you expect the prophet to ask you to do extraordinary things to heal you, and you would have done them? Now he is asking you to do something ordinary, so why can't you do it? Naaman allows himself to be persuaded, and this is where today's reading begins. Naaman obeys a simple order by immersing himself seven times in the Jordan and is healed. It seems simple to us, but for a great general of a foreign army, this obedience is not simple at all! The rest of the text demonstrates this. Naaman is healed and returns to Elisha to tell him two things. The first: 'Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel', and he adds that when he returns to his country, he will offer sacrifices to him. The author of this passage takes the opportunity to say to the Jews: you have had the protection of the one God for centuries, and now you see that God is also for foreigners, while you continue to be tempted by idolatry. This foreigner, on the other hand, quickly understood where his healing came from. Naaman also tells Elisha that he wants to give him a gift to thank him, but the prophet refuses emphatically: God's gifts cannot be bought. Finally, why does Naaman want to take some soil from Israel with him? He explains that he does not want to offer burnt offerings and sacrifices to other gods, but only to the God of Israel. This shows that, at the time of the prophet Elisha, all the peoples neighbouring Israel believed that the gods reigned over specific territories and, in order to offer sacrifices to the God of Israel, Naaman believed he had to take with him some soil from the land over which this God reigned.

Responsorial Psalm (97/98, 1-4)

In the first reading, Naaman, a Syrian general and therefore a pagan, is healed by the prophet Elisha and, thanks to this, discovers the God of Israel. Naaman is therefore perfectly suited to sing this psalm, which speaks of God's love both for the pagans, whom the Bible calls the nations (or peoples), and for Israel. 'The Lord has made known his salvation, he has revealed his justice in the sight of the nations' (v. 2) and immediately afterwards (v. 3): 'He has remembered his love, his faithfulness to the house of Israel', which is the consecrated expression to remember the election of Israel, the completely privileged relationship that binds this small people to the God of the universe. The simple words "his faithfulness" and "his love" are a reference to the Covenant: it is through these words that, in the desert, God made himself known to the people he chose. The phrase "God of love and faithfulness" indicates that Israel is the chosen people, but the previous phrase reminds us that if Israel has been chosen, it is not to enjoy the privilege selfishly, not to consider itself the only child, but to behave as an older brother, and its role is to proclaim God's love for all people, so as to gradually integrate all humanity into the Covenant. In this psalm, this certainty even marks the composition of the text; if you look more closely, you will notice the inclusion of verses 2 and 3. I would remind you that inclusion is a literary device often found in the Bible. It is a bit like a box in a newspaper or magazine; obviously, the purpose is to highlight the text written inside the box. In the Bible, it works the same way: the central text is highlighted, framed by two identical phrases, one before and one after. Here, the central phrase speaks of Israel, the chosen people, and is framed by two phrases that speak of the nations: the first phrase, 'The Lord has made known his salvation, he has revealed his righteousness in the sight of the nations', and the second concerns Israel: "He has remembered his love, his faithfulness to the house of Israel" and the third: "All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God". Here the term "the nations" does not appear but is replaced by the expression "all the ends of the earth". This means that the election of Israel is central, but we must not forget that it must radiate to all humanity. A second emphasis of this psalm is the very marked proclamation of God's kingship. For example, in the Temple of Jerusalem they sing: "Acclaim the Lord, all the earth, acclaim your king." This psalm is a cry of victory, the cry that rises on the battlefield after triumph, the teru'ah in honour of the victor. The victory of God, referred to here, is twofold: first, it is the victory of liberation from Egypt, and second, it is the victory expected at the end of time, God's definitive victory over all the forces of evil. Even then, God was acclaimed as the new king was once acclaimed on the day of his coronation, with cries of victory to the sound of trumpets, horns and the applause of the crowd. But while with the kings of the earth there was always disappointment, this time we know that we will not be disappointed; that is why this time the teru'ah must be particularly vibrant! Christians acclaim God with even greater force, because they have seen the king of the world with their own eyes: since the Incarnation of the Son, they know and affirm, against all apparent evidence to the contrary, that the Kingdom of God, that is, of love, has already begun.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to Timothy (2:8-13)

The hymn "Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead; he is our salvation, our eternal glory" is found in its original context in the Second Letter to Timothy, where Paul writes: "Remember Jesus Christ, descendant of David". In the Jewish milieu, it was essential to affirm that Jesus was truly of the lineage of David in order to be recognised as the Messiah. Paul adds: 'He was raised from the dead: this is my Gospel'. The question is radical: either Jesus rose from the dead, or he did not. Paul, initially convinced that it was an invention, had tried to prevent the spread of this proclamation. But after his experience on the road to Damascus, he saw the Risen One and became his witness. Jesus is the conqueror of death and evil, and with him a new world is born, in which believers must participate with their whole lives. For this reason, Paul consecrates himself to proclaiming the Gospel and invites Timothy to do the same, preparing him for opposition and encouraging him to fight the good fight with courage, gentleness and trust in the Spirit he has received. The resurrection is the heart of the Christian faith. While for many Jews the resurrection of the flesh was credible, for the Greeks it was difficult to accept, as shown by the failure of Paul's preaching in Athens. Precisely because of his proclamation of the resurrection, Paul was imprisoned several times: "Christ has been raised from the dead; this is my Gospel. For his sake I suffer, even to the point of being chained like a criminal." Timothy, too, Paul warns, will have to suffer for the Gospel. Paul's chains do not stop the truth: 'I am in chains, but the Word of God is not in chains'. Jesus himself had said that if they remain silent, the stones will cry out, because nothing can stop the truth. Paul adds that he endures everything for the elect, so that they too may obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. Here the opening hymn echoes and probably follows an ancient baptismal hymn introduced with the formula: "Here is a word worthy of faith: If we died with him, we will live with him; if we persevere, we will reign with him." It is the mystery of Baptism, already explained in Romans 6: with it we are immersed in the death and resurrection of Christ, united with him in an inseparable way. Passion, death and resurrection constitute a single event that inaugurated a new era for humanity. The last sentences highlight the tension between human freedom and God's faithfulness because if we deny him, he too will deny us: God respects our conscious rejection. If we lack faith, he remains faithful, because he cannot deny himself, since God always remains faithful even in the face of our frailty.

From the Gospel according to Luke (17:11-19)

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, where his passion, death and resurrection await him. Luke emphasises the itinerary because what he narrates is linked to the mystery of salvation. During the journey, he meets ten lepers who, forced to remain at a distance according to the Law, cry out to him, calling him 'Master': this is a sign both of their weakness and of the trust they place in him. Unlike another episode (Lk 5:12), this time Jesus does not touch them, but only orders them to go and present themselves to the priests, a necessary step for official recognition of their healing. The order is already a promise of salvation. The story recalls the episode of Naaman and the prophet Elisha (2 Kings 5) in the first reading because as the ten set out on their journey, their leprosy disappears: their trust saves them. The disease had united them, but the healing reveals the difference in their hearts: nine Jews go to the priests, only one, a Samaritan, considered a heretic, returns. He recognises that life and healing come from God, glorifies God aloud, prostrates himself at Jesus' feet and gives him thanks: an attitude reserved for God. Thus he recognises the Messiah and understands that the true place to give glory to God is no longer the Temple in Jerusalem, but Jesus himself. His return is conversion, and Jesus proclaims it: "Get up and go; your faith has saved you." Jesus asks the other nine to account for themselves: they met the Messiah but did not recognise him, choosing to run immediately to the Temple to fulfil the Law without stopping to give thanks. The Gospel thus emphasises a recurring theme: salvation is for everyone, but often it is not those closest to God who welcome it: "He came among his own, and his own did not recognise him." Already the Old Testament affirmed the universality of salvation (cf. Ps 97/98). The first reading recalls the conversion of Naaman, a foreigner, and Jesus had rebuked Nazareth, citing the example of the Syrian who was healed while many lepers in Israel were not (Lk 4:27), arousing the anger of the synagogue. In Acts, Luke will again show the contrast between the rejection of part of Israel and the acceptance of the pagans. This question was alive in the early Christian communities: did one have to be Jewish to receive baptism, or could pagans also be accepted? The story of the converted Samaritan recalls three truths: the salvation brought by Christ through his passion, death and resurrection is for everyone; thanksgiving is often best performed by foreigners or heretics; the poor are the most open to encountering God. In conclusion, on the road to Jerusalem, that is, to salvation, Jesus leads all men who are willing to convert, whatever their origin or religion.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (year C)  [5 October 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. Paul's recommendations to Timothy are also very useful for us. And the word of the Gospel opens our hearts to humble trust in the fulfilment of our mission.

*First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Habakkuk (1:2-3; 2:2-4) 

The prophet Habakkuk is not very popular today, but he certainly was at the time of the New Testament, since he is quoted several times. For example, the Virgin Mary's phrase in the Magnificat: "I rejoice in the Lord, I exult in God my saviour" was already found, centuries earlier, in the book of Habakkuk (Hab 3:18); it is also from him that St Paul drew and quoted several times a phrase that is part of our reading today: "The righteous shall live by his faith" (Rom 1:17; Gal 3:11). This little book is really a booklet, only three chapters, each with about twenty verses, but what a wealth of feelings! From lamentation to violence, from invocation for help to pure exultation. His cries of anguish bring to mind Job: "How long, O Lord, shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? I will cry out to you, 'Violence!' and you will not save?" (Hab 1:2). Yet hope never abandons him: when St Peter invites his readers to be patient, he repeats an expression inspired by Habakkuk: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise..." (2 Pt 3:9). The first verses resemble the book of Job: "How long, Lord, shall I cry for help, and you will not hear? I will cry out to you, 'Violence!' and you will not save?" It is a plea in the face of rampant violence, but above all it is a cry of extreme anguish, that of God's silence. Here, as in the book of Job and in many psalms, the Bible dares to say things in which man seems to call God to account: 'How long, O Lord, shall I cry for help, and thou wilt not hear? I will cry out to you, 'Violence!' and you will not save?" The violence Habakkuk speaks of is that of Babylon, the new emerging power in the Middle East. Since the beginning of time, the same atrocities of war have been repeated, as we can clearly see even today. Yet Habakkuk does not lose his faith. In another verse, he states: 'I will stand at my watch, I will station myself on the ramparts, and I will keep watch to see what the Lord will say to me' (Hab 2:1). There are at least two things in this expression: first of all, it is the watchman's expectation, certain that dawn will come; it is the same theme as in Psalm 129/130: 'My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the dawn." The second is the awareness that his questioning is somewhat bold: the prophet has asked God for an explanation and expects to be rebuked. Instead, God's response does not bring any condemnation; he only invites him to patience and trust: the days of the enemy's victory will not last forever (cf. Hab 2:2-3). In today's text, Habakkuk does not describe the content of the vision, which will be the subject of the following chapter, but we can already guess that it concerns the liberation of the oppressed. However, one fact remains: God has not really answered the question; he has not said why he sometimes seems deaf to our prayers. He has only reaffirmed that he never abandons us. Habakkuk's message seems to be this: in trials, even the most terrible ones, the only possible path for the believer is to keep faith in God: to accept not understanding, but not to accuse God. Any other position is destructive because distrust of God brings only pain. This is probably the meaning of the final formula: 'The righteous shall live by his faith' (Hab 2:4), or, in other words, it is trust in God that keeps us alive, otherwise suspicion and rebellion wear us down. On the contrary, it is legitimate to cry out in pain: if the Bible has us read cries of anguish and even reproaches directed at God in the book of Job and in the Psalms, it is because believers have the right to cry out in suffering, in impatience in the face of the violence that crushes them. Let us return to the final sentence: 'Behold, the unrighteous man shall perish, but the righteous shall live by his faith' (Habakkuk 2:4). The proud one is Babylon, which boasts of its conquests and thinks it can build lasting prosperity on them; the righteous one, on the other hand, knows that only God gives life. The most famous example in the history of Israel is Abraham: when he left his land and his family to respond to God's call, he did not know where he would be led. When, still obeying God, he prepared to offer his only son, he did not understand, but he continued to trust the One who had given him his son. And once again, his faith gave life to him and his son (Gen 22). Scripture says of him: 'Abraham believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness' (Gen 15:6).

*Responsorial Psalm (94/95:1-2, 6-7ab, 7d-8a, 9)

We are in the temple in Jerusalem, pilgrims are crowding the steps of the temple for a great celebration: "Come, let us sing to the Lord, let us acclaim the rock of our salvation". The rock of our salvation: this expression alone is a profession of faith. Israel has chosen to rely on God and God alone, as in the early days of the Covenant. The Bible often compares the history of the people of Israel to an engagement with their God. After the initial enthusiasm and promises, doubts and infidelities arose. God, however, always remained faithful, and after every storm and every infidelity, Israel always returned to Him, like a repentant bride grateful for the ever-renewed Covenant: Let us go to Him with thanksgiving. The Hebrew word here is tôdah: it indicates a specific moment in the worship of the Covenant, the sacrifice of tôdah, which expresses gratitude, thanksgiving, praise, repentance, and the desire to love... In modern Hebrew, thanks is still said tôdah. An English term that would sum up this psalm well is gratitude: recognising God, knowing who He is, knowing who we are, and then gratitude overwhelms us.First and foremost, recognising God: our Creator but, even more so, our liberator. It seems simple to trust in this God who guides and protects us, this God who freed us from slavery in Egypt. It is simple, as long as there are no problems. But when trials come, doubts arise. Yet it is precisely in trials that our trust is tested, and this is where the question of trust arises. In the Bible, listening means trusting; listening to his voice is also the opposite of hardening one's heart. In fact, the psalm continues: 'Today, if you hear his voice! Do not harden your hearts as at Meribah, as on the day of Massah in the desert, where your fathers tempted me, testing me even though they had seen my works'. Massa and Meriba mean, precisely, temptation and provocation. The episode of Massa and Meriba has remained famous in the memory of Israel as a symbol of the temptation to suspect God as soon as the first difficulty arises. The people began to regret slavery because their newly won freedom seemed very uncomfortable. In Egypt they were slaves, of course, but at least they survived... in the desert, the people were thirsty and a revolt broke out. The text says that the people murmured, but the term is probably stronger than in our English today, because Moses exclaims to God: "A little more and they will stone me!" (Ex 17:4). God intervenes, and water gushes from the rock (here the image returns: God, my rock). How much better it would have been to trust! In suffering, as we saw in Habakkuk in the first reading, we can cry out, beg, call on God, but never doubt Him. Massa and Meriba remain the names of that suspicion that can always resurface in our hearts.

*Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul to Timothy (1:6-8, 13-14)

When Paul writes his second letter to Timothy, he is in prison in Rome, shortly before his execution; he himself says that he is chained like a criminal and asks Timothy not to be ashamed of him, as others have been. He knows very well that he does not have much time left and feels very alone. This second letter to Timothy is therefore a kind of testament: Timothy will have to take his place and Paul gives him recommendations in this regard. It should be noted that, for reasons of style, vocabulary and even content, it is generally thought that the letters to Timothy were not written by Paul, but by one of his disciples after his death. It is not possible to settle this difficult question and, in order to be faithful to the teaching of these letters, we must not get lost in endless discussions. For the sake of convenience, we will therefore continue to refer to Paul and Timothy. After all, whether it is Paul and Timothy or their future disciples is of little importance to us now: what matters is the content of these letters, which contain Paul's recommendations to a young Christian leader, and therefore concern us closely. The first recommendation is perhaps the most important: "Revive the free gift of God"; this gift of God, if we read the rest of the text, is clearly the Holy Spirit. And, visibly, Timothy will really need it! Paul, chained for the Gospel, knows this all too well. Timothy received this gift of the Spirit through the laying on of hands: the words 'confirmation' and 'ordination' did not yet exist, but we know that, from the beginning of the Church, the gesture of laying on of hands signified the gift of the Spirit. 'Stir up the gift of God within you' means that God's gifts can therefore lie dormant within us. Elsewhere Paul says: "Do not quench the Spirit" (cf. 1 Thess 5:19). Here too, we can hear a message that encourages us to carry the fire of the Spirit within us, and even if it seems that we have covered it with ashes, it is still within us, burning under the ashes, since nothing can extinguish it. This Spirit is not a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love and self-control. Here we find a theme dear to Paul: that of the transmission of faith. Paul passed on this precious treasure to Timothy, who in turn must pass it on, and so on: Hold fast to the pattern of sound words which you have heard from me, in the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit with the help of the Holy Spirit who dwells in us. Elsewhere, in his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul wrote: 'I have passed on to you what I myself have received' (cf. 15:3-4). This brings to mind a relay race, in which the runners pass on a baton that remains the same from the beginning to the end of the race, while the deposit of faith is inevitably expressed in different terms over the centuries. Faith, in fact, is not a neatly packaged, untouchable object. The problem, however, is knowing whether the transmission is truly faithful. Many controversies over the centuries have arisen from differences among Christians about the content of the deposit of faith. But in reality, we are not the ultimate guarantors of this fidelity: it is the Holy Spirit who is the supreme guardian of the deposit of faith. In order to faithfully pass on the torch to subsequent generations, we need only to rekindle in ourselves the gift of God, the fire of the Spirit that nothing can extinguish.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (17:5-10)

 Here we find several verses that follow one another and are not similar. It almost seems as if there are two parts to this text: in the first, a dialogue between Jesus and his apostles about faith, with Jesus' somewhat terrible formula: 'If you had faith as small as a mustard seed, you would say to this tree, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea," and it would obey you'. In the second part, there is a kind of parable about the servant, which also ends with a very strong statement by Jesus: 'When you have done all that you were commanded, say, "We are unworthy servants. We have done what we ought to have done." Jesus is certainly not trying to discourage us; on the other hand, if these verses are so close together, without any interruption, it means that there is a connection between them. Here we have a dialogue between Christ and his apostles, that is, his envoys, which means that this phrase of Jesus concerns the activity of evangelisation. The envoys say to the one who sends them: Increase our faith! This is a prayer that is also very often ours when we become aware of our weakness, our powerlessness, and it seems to us that if we were richer in faith we would be more effective. But how can we reconcile this with Paul's words: "If I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing" (1 Cor 13:2)? In his language, Jesus replies that it is not a question of measuring our faith: that is not the problem. Rather, it is a question of relying on God's power, because it is He who acts, not our faith, however small or great it may be. Jesus deliberately emphasises the paradox: the mustard seed was considered the smallest of all seeds, and the large tree he speaks of (in Greek, sycamore) was considered impossible to uproot. Jesus' statement therefore means: You don't need to have a lot of faith: a tiny mustard seed is enough to do seemingly impossible things. It could then be translated as follows: When you act in the name of the Gospel, remember that nothing is impossible for God. Then there is the expression 'useless servants' archreioi (17:10), which we can translate as follows: you are simply servants who are not even indispensable, called to serve in a task that is beyond you. And - I would say - fortunately so, because who would feel strong enough to bear the responsibility of the Kingdom of God? These words of Jesus, therefore, are not harsh or discouraging, but on the contrary, they are meant to encourage us: if we are only subordinates, the responsibility does not fall on us, but that does not make us useless: if the servant were truly useless, no master would keep him. If God takes us as servants, it is because he wants to need us. If Jesus chose the apostles and said that 'the harvest is plentiful but the labourers are few' (Mt 9:37-38), and if his words continue to resonate two thousand years later, it is because he wants our collaboration. We are what we are, and God associates us with his work of salvation. Jesus says: "When you have done all that you were commanded, say, 'We are unworthy servants. We have done what we ought to have done'" (17:10). In doing so, he suggests two attitudes: first, he invites us once again to abandon the logic of merits and rewards, but above all, he invites us to remain serene in the exercise of our mission. He is the master of the harvest, not us. Then we can better understand the connection between the two parts of this text: the message is the same: a little faith, however small, is enough for God to perform miracles. On condition, however, that we faithfully place ourselves at his service.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole