Today, in Italy and in other countries, the Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord is being celebrated. The Gospel reading (cf. Mt 28:16-20) shows us the Apostles who gather in Galilee, at “the mountain to which Jesus had directed them” (v. 16). The Lord’s final encounter with his followers takes place here, on the mountain. The “mountain” has a strong symbolic and evocative charge. Jesus proclaimed the Beatitudes on the Mount (cf. Mt 5:1-12); He withdrew to the mountains to pray (cf. Mt 14:23). He welcomed the crowds there and healed the sick (cf. Mt 15:29). However this time on the mountain, he is no longer the Master who acts and teaches, but rather the Risen One who asks the disciples to take action and to proclaim, entrusting to them the mandate to continue his work. 

He assigns to them the mission to all the peoples. He says: “Go, therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you” (vv. 19-20). The contents of the mission entrusted to the Apostles are the following: to proclaim, baptize, teach and walk the path traced by the Master, that is, the living Gospel. This message of salvation first of all implies the duty of witness — one cannot proclaim without witness — to which we too, today’s disciples, are called to explain our faith. Faced with such a demanding task, and thinking of our weaknesses, we feel inadequate, as the Apostles themselves surely felt. But we must not be discouraged, remembering the words Jesus addressed to them before ascending to Heaven: “I am with you always, to the close of the age” (v. 20).

This promise ensures the constant and consoling presence of Jesus among us. But how is this presence realised? Through His Spirit, who leads the Church to walk through history as the companion of every person. That Spirit sent by Christ and the Father, who works the remission of sins and sanctifies all those who are repentant and open themselves with confidence to his gift. With the promise to remain with us until the end of time, Jesus inaugurates the style of his presence in the world as the Risen One. Jesus is present in the world but with another style, the style of the Risen One, that is a presence that is revealed in the Word, in the Sacraments and in the constant and interior action of the Holy Spirit. The Feast of the Ascension tells us that although Jesus ascended to Heaven to dwell gloriously at the right hand of the Father, he is still and always among us: this is the source of our strength, our perseverance and our joy, from the very presence of Jesus among us with the strength of the Holy Spirit.

May the Virgin Mary accompany our journey with her maternal protection. May may we learn from her the gentleness and courage to be witnesses in the world of the Risen Lord.

[Pope Francis, Regina Coeli, 24 May 2020]

(Jn 16:23-28)

In ancient religions, prayer is performance of the believer, an act owed by creature to divine majesty.

But also a member of an assembly, in the Faith any son of God has full access to the Father in a personal way, like Jesus.

And Dialogue that arises has the character of spontaneity. The language: unrepeatable for each one [as in a love story].

Christ in us is the authentic protagonist of prayer 'in his Name'. But He does not replace the faithful - nor does he assume them, as an intermediary or external intercessor would.

The Lord unites us to Himself, in flesh and blood.

Contact with the Father is «in Jesus of Nazareth»: in the brought, sense and scope of His own desires, words, actions, disappointments, joys, even activities of denouncing false beliefs.

We are connected to His very Person - not to another, more scintillating or tranquil, harmonious and quiet historical occurrence: in the Spirit of Incarnation, totally.

Then the Father has respect for our identity-character in Christ. He grasps the traits and incorporates them, to suggest to us the Way of special fulfilment.

In the richness of the Mystery, the events of the Son and the sons are intertwined. His Name merges with our ‘name’.

In short, His story of persecution and mockery is all about us all. One recognizes it, already at first sight.

Therefore, in the prayers, the Risen One does not act as a "mediator".

He is the inside groove, the intimate track, the path completely our own, not to be lost sight of and to be listened to attentively, both in order to scrutinize the global option of life and to learn from time to time.

We are hearers of the Word, of the signs of the times, of personal events, encounters, experience, heart or advice, character and inclinations - starting from our creaturely Seed.

Just like Jesus with the Father: we remain with Him inside, and (united with Him) in His mystical and everlasting Dialogue with the meaning of events.

In them the Father, the true Subject who expresses Himself, is revealed. And the Eternal shines through in the facts that He offers us in His wise Providence.

So the praying person is the one Listening - in the same way as Jesus related to the Father, to understand his own affairs.

In order to encounter ourselves, our brothers, the world, and insight into meaning of the episodes and our mission, we remain in the Name of Jesus.

The story of the carpenter's son concerns us: so all the more do we demand to be introduced into the adventure and life-wave of Faith.

In this way, the exodus in the Spirit from our deepest strata is not the same as a devout and whatever, ordinary spiritual life.

Thus the prayer that belongs to our Calling has nothing to do with mediocre, subordinate attitudes - not correlative in the first place to a historical fact: the life of the Master.

In the soul of His intimates, He Himself listens, interprets, assimilates. And He turns «with-us» to the Father.

Such friendship and attunement [sometimes crude] allows us to assimilate His authentic Person; not contrived, not sweetened, not smuggled.

Prayer in the Name of Christ contains His radical power, makes sense of hostilities and wounds.

In Him they become ground for sharing and deep correspondence.

Here the Lord dwells us and continues His creative Action.

Prayer in the Name transforms our dust into living awe and splendour of concrete relationship, as equals.

[Saturday 6th wk. in Easter, May 16, 2026]

«If you ask anything of the Father, he will give it to you in my Name»

(Jn 16:23-28)

In ancient religions, prayer is the performance of the believer, an act owed by the creature to the divine majesty.

For St Thomas, too, the virtue of Religion is an aspect of the cardinal virtue of Justice: the inferior being is bound to the praise and duty of worship.

But also a member of an assembly, in Faith the child of God has full access to the Father in a personal way, like Jesus.

And the Dialogue that arises has the character of spontaneity. The language: unrepeatable for each one [as in a love story].

Christ in us is the authentic protagonist of prayer 'in his Name'. But it does not replace the faithful - nor does it assume them, as an intermediary or external intercessor would.

The Lord unites us to Himself, in flesh and blood.

The contact with the Father is 'in Jesus of Nazareth': in the bearer of his own desires, words, actions, disappointments, joys, even the denunciation of false beliefs.

They deceive and extinguish the real genesis, which lurks in the specifics of the prayer of the children. Not the expression and fruit of an empty spirituality.

We are connected to His own Person - not to another, more glittering or tranquil, harmonious and quiet historical event: in the Spirit of incarnation, totally.

Then the Father has respect for our identity-character in Christ. He grasps the traits and incorporates them, to suggest to us the Way of particular fulfilment.

All according to age, Calling and deep personality, genius of time, world of relationships and unrepeatable sensitivity.

In the richness of the Mystery, the vicissitudes of the Son and the sons are intertwined. His Name merges with our name.

In short, His story of persecution and mockery is all of us. One recognises it, already at first sight.

The usual forgers of mannerist religion [archaic or fashionable] are always at work, but they have nothing special, wise, celestial.

Therefore in the prayers the Risen One does not act as "mediator".

He is the groove, the track, the path completely our own, not to be lost sight of and to be listened to attentively; both to scrutinise the global option of life and to adjust from time to time.

A special character of Christian prayer is listening, perception, acceptance; not performance.

Otherwise everything would remain in abeyance: one would not enter into the critical and fruitful depths of Love, of its development. Nor of reciprocity in Christ - in the true Lord.

We are hearers of the Word, the signs of the times, personal events, encounters, experience, heart or advice, character and inclinations - from our creaturely Seed.

Just like Jesus with the Father: we remain with Him within, and (united with Him) in His mystical and perennial Dialogue with the meaning of events.

In them, the Father is revealed, the true Subject who expresses Himself. And the Eternal One shines through in the events He brings to us in His wise Providence.

So the praying person is the one in Listening - in the same way as Jesus related to the Father, in order to understand his own affairs.

The praying person - although a hermit - is not an isolated man, alone like a dog, or worse, bent and plagiarised.

Nor do we resemble an intimidated person who recommends himself to some 'protector', or makes lists of requests as if Heaven had not noticed.

In order to encounter ourselves, our brothers, the world, and grasp the meaning of events and our mission, we remain in the Name of Jesus.

The story of the carpenter's son concerns us: so all the more do we demand to be introduced into the adventure and life-wave of Faith.

In this way, the exodus in the Spirit from our deepest strata is not the same as a devout and ordinary spiritual life.

Thus the prayer that belongs to our Calling has nothing to do with mediocre, subordinate attitudes - not primarily correlative to a historical fact: the Master's life.

In the souls of His intimates, He Himself listens, interprets, assimilates. And he turns 'with-us' to the Father.

Such friendship and attunement [sometimes crude] enables us to assimilate his authentic Person; not contrived, not sweetened, not smuggled.

Prayer in the Name of Christ contains its radical power, makes sense of hostilities and wounds.

In Him they become ground for sharing and profound correspondence.

Here the Lord dwells and continues His creative action.

Prayer in the Name transforms our dust into living awe and splendour of concrete relationship, as equals.

To internalise and live the message:

What space does Jesus' thoughts, His actions, His dreams, His Words have in your prayer?

What about His denunciation?

What about His reproaches (and that kind of vindication, as recorded in the Gospels - not others juxtaposed)?

Two Outcomes, in the Name

Jesus' wounds are still present on earth. To recognise them, it is necessary to get out of ourselves and go out to meet our brothers and sisters in need, the sick, the ignorant, the poor, the exploited. It is the 'exodus' that Pope Francis pointed out to Christians in the homily of the Mass celebrated on Saturday morning, 11 May, in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae.

It is a matter - the Pontiff explained - of 'an exit from ourselves' made possible by prayer 'towards the Father in the name of Jesus'. The prayer that "bores us", on the other hand, is "always within ourselves, like a thought that comes and goes. But true prayer is to go out from ourselves to the Father in the name of Jesus, it is an exodus from ourselves" that is accomplished "with the intercession of Jesus himself, who before the Father makes him see his wounds".

But how can we recognise these wounds of Jesus? How is it possible to trust in these plagues if one does not know them? And what is "the school where one learns to know the wounds of Jesus, these priestly wounds, these wounds of intercession?" The Pope's response was explicit: "If we do not succeed in making this exit from ourselves towards those wounds, we will never learn the freedom that leads us to the other exit from ourselves, towards the wounds of Jesus".

Hence the image of the two "exits from ourselves" indicated by the Holy Father: the first is "towards the wounds of Jesus, the other towards the wounds of our brothers and sisters. And this is the way Jesus wants in our prayer'. Words that find confirmation in the Gospel of John (16:23-28) in the liturgy of the day. A passage in which Jesus is of a disarming clarity: "Truly, truly, I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you". In these words," the Pontiff noted, "there is a novelty in prayer: 'In my name'. The Father therefore "will give us everything, but always in the name of Jesus".

What does this asking in the name of Jesus mean? It is a novelty that Jesus reveals precisely "at the moment when he leaves the earth and returns to the Father". On the Solemnity of the Ascension [...] the Pope recalled - a passage from the Letter to the Hebrews was read, where it says among other things: "For we have the freedom to go to the Father". It is "a new freedom. The doors are open: Jesus, in going to the Father, left the door open". Not because "he forgot to close it", but because "he himself is the door". He is "our intercessor, and that is why he says: 'In my name'". In our prayer, characterised by "that courage which Jesus himself gives us", we then ask the Father in the name of Jesus: "Look at your Son and do this to me!".

The Holy Father then recalled the image of Jesus who "enters the sanctuary of Heaven, as a priest. And Jesus, until the end of the world, is as priest, he makes intercession for us". And when we "ask the Father by saying 'Jesus', we are signalling, we are saying, we are referring to the intercessor. He prays for us before the Father".

Referring then to the wounds of Jesus, the Pontiff noted that Christ "in his resurrection, had a beautiful body: the wounds of the scourging, of the thorns, have disappeared, all of them. The bruises of the blows have disappeared". But he, he added, "always wanted to have the wounds, and the wounds are precisely his prayer of intercession to the Father". This is "the novelty that Jesus tells us", inviting us to "trust in his passion, trust in his victory over death, trust in his wounds". He is, in fact, the "priest and this is the sacrifice: his wounds". All this "gives us confidence, gives us the courage to pray", because, as the Apostle Peter wrote, "by his wounds you have been healed".

In conclusion, the Holy Father recalled another passage from John's Gospel: 'Hitherto you have asked nothing in my name: ask and you shall obtain, that your joy may be full'. The reference, he explained, is to the 'joy of Jesus', to the 'joy that comes'. This is "the new way of praying: with trust", with that "courage that lets us know that Jesus is before the Father" and shows him his wounds; but also with the humility to recognise and find Jesus' wounds in his needy brothers and sisters. This is our prayer in charity.

"May the Lord," the Pontiff hoped, "give us this freedom to enter that sanctuary where He is priest and intercedes for us and whatever we ask the Father in His name, He will give it to us. But also give us the courage to go to that other "sanctuary" which are the wounds of our brothers and sisters in need, who suffer, who still bear the Cross and still have not won, as Jesus won".

(Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 12/05/2013)

1. Faith as a response to the love of God

In my first Encyclical, I offered some thoughts on the close relationship between the theological virtues of faith and charity. Setting out from Saint John’s fundamental assertion: “We have come to know and to believe in the love God has for us” (1 Jn 4:16), I observed that “being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction … Since God has first loved us (cf. 1 Jn 4:10), love is now no longer a mere ‘command’; it is the response to the gift of love with which God draws near to us” (Deus Caritas Est, 1). Faith is this personal adherence – which involves all our faculties – to the revelation of God’s gratuitous and “passionate” love for us, fully revealed in Jesus Christ. The encounter with God who is Love engages not only the heart but also the intellect: “Acknowledgement of the living God is one path towards love, and the ‘yes’ of our will to his will unites our intellect, will and sentiments in the all-embracing act of love. But this process is always open-ended; love is never ‘finished’ and complete” (ibid., 17). Hence, for all Christians, and especially for “charity workers”, there is a need for faith, for “that encounter with God in Christ which awakens their love and opens their spirits to others. As a result, love of neighbour will no longer be for them a commandment imposed, so to speak, from without, but a consequence deriving from their faith, a faith which becomes active through love” (ibid., 31a). Christians are people who have been conquered by Christ’s love and accordingly, under the influence of that love – “C aritas Christi urget nos” (2 Cor 5:14) – they are profoundly open to loving their neighbour in concrete ways (cf. ibid., 33). This attitude arises primarily from the consciousness of being loved, forgiven, and even served by the Lord, who bends down to wash the feet of the Apostles and offers himself on the Cross to draw humanity into God’s love.

“Faith tells us that God has given his Son for our sakes and gives us the victorious certainty that it is really true: God is love! … Faith, which sees the love of God revealed in the pierced heart of Jesus on the Cross, gives rise to love. Love is the light – and in the end, the only light – that can always illuminate a world grown dim and give us the courage needed to keep living and working” (ibid., 39). All this helps us to understand that the principal distinguishing mark of Christians is precisely “love grounded in and shaped by faith” (ibid., 7).

2. Charity as life in faith

The entire Christian life is a response to God’s love. The first response is precisely faith as the acceptance, filled with wonder and gratitude, of the unprecedented divine initiative that precedes us and summons us. And the “yes” of faith marks the beginning of a radiant story of friendship with the Lord, which fills and gives full meaning to our whole life. But it is not enough for God that we simply accept his gratuitous love. Not only does he love us, but he wants to draw us to himself, to transform us in such a profound way as to bring us to say with Saint Paul: “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (cf. Gal 2:20).

When we make room for the love of God, then we become like him, sharing in his own charity. If we open ourselves to his love, we allow him to live in us and to bring us to love with him, in him and like him; only then does our faith become truly “active through love” (Gal 5:6); only then does he abide in us (cf. 1 Jn 4:12).

Faith is knowing the truth and adhering to it (cf. 1 Tim 2:4); charity is “walking” in the truth (cf. Eph 4:15). Through faith we enter into friendship with the Lord, through charity this friendship is lived and cultivated (cf. Jn 15:14ff). Faith causes us to embrace the commandment of our Lord and Master; charity gives us the happiness of putting it into practice (cf. Jn 13:13-17). In faith we are begotten as children of God (cf. Jn 1:12ff); charity causes us to persevere concretely in our divine sonship, bearing the fruit of the Holy Spirit (cf. Gal 5:22). Faith enables us to recognize the gifts that the good and generous God has entrusted to us; charity makes them fruitful (cf. Mt 25:14-30).

3. The indissoluble interrelation of faith and charity

In light of the above, it is clear that we can never separate, let alone oppose, faith and charity. These two theological virtues are intimately linked, and it is misleading to posit a contrast or “dialectic” between them. On the one hand, it would be too one-sided to place a strong emphasis on the priority and decisiveness of faith and to undervalue and almost despise concrete works of charity, reducing them to a vague humanitarianism. On the other hand, though, it is equally unhelpful to overstate the primacy of charity and the activity it generates, as if works could take the place of faith. For a healthy spiritual life, it is necessary to avoid both fideism and moral activism.

The Christian life consists in continuously scaling the mountain to meet God and then coming back down, bearing the love and strength drawn from him, so as to serve our brothers and sisters with God’s own love. In sacred Scripture, we see how the zeal of the Apostles to proclaim the Gospel and awaken people’s faith is closely related to their charitable concern to be of service to the poor (cf. Acts 6:1-4). In the Church, contemplation and action, symbolized in some way by the Gospel figures of Mary and Martha, have to coexist and complement each other (cf. Lk 10:38-42). The relationship with God must always be the priority, and any true sharing of goods, in the spirit of the Gospel, must be rooted in faith (cf. General Audience, 25 April 2012). Sometimes we tend, in fact, to reduce the term “charity” to solidarity or simply humanitarian aid. It is important, however, to remember that the greatest work of charity is evangelization, which is the “ministry of the word”. There is no action more beneficial – and therefore more charitable – towards one’s neighbour than to break the bread of the word of God, to share with him the Good News of the Gospel, to introduce him to a relationship with God: evangelization is the highest and the most integral promotion of the human person. As the Servant of God Pope Paul VI wrote in the Encyclical Populorum Progressio, the proclamation of Christ is the first and principal contributor to development (cf. n. 16). It is the primordial truth of the love of God for us, lived and proclaimed, that opens our lives to receive this love and makes possible the integral development of humanity and of every man (cf. Caritas in Veritate, 8).

Essentially, everything proceeds from Love and tends towards Love. God’s gratuitous love is made known to us through the proclamation of the Gospel. If we welcome it with faith, we receive the first and indispensable contact with the Divine, capable of making us “fall in love with Love”, and then we dwell within this Love, we grow in it and we joyfully communicate it to others.

Concerning the relationship between faith and works of charity, there is a passage in the Letter to the Ephesians which provides perhaps the best account of the link between the two: “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God; not because of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (2:8-10). It can be seen here that the entire redemptive initiative comes from God, from his grace, from his forgiveness received in faith; but this initiative, far from limiting our freedom and our responsibility, is actually what makes them authentic and directs them towards works of charity. These are not primarily the result of human effort, in which to take pride, but they are born of faith and they flow from the grace that God gives in abundance. Faith without works is like a tree without fruit: the two virtues imply one another. Lent invites us, through the traditional practices of the Christian life, to nourish our faith by careful and extended listening to the word of God and by receiving the sacraments, and at the same time to grow in charity and in love for God and neighbour, not least through the specific practices of fasting, penance and almsgiving.

4. Priority of faith, primacy of charity

Like any gift of God, faith and charity have their origin in the action of one and the same Holy Spirit (cf. 1 Cor 13), the Spirit within us that cries out “Abba, Father” (Gal 4:6), and makes us say: “Jesus is Lord!” (1 Cor 12:3) and “Maranatha!” (1 Cor 16:22; Rev 22:20).

Faith, as gift and response, causes us to know the truth of Christ as Love incarnate and crucified, as full and perfect obedience to the Father’s will and infinite divine mercy towards neighbour; faith implants in hearts and minds the firm conviction that only this Love is able to conquer evil and death. Faith invites us to look towards the future with the virtue of hope, in the confident expectation that the victory of Christ’s love will come to its fullness. For its part, charity ushers us into the love of God manifested in Christ and joins us in a personal and existential way to the total and unconditional self-giving of Jesus to the Father and to his brothers and sisters. By filling our hearts with his love, the Holy Spirit makes us sharers in Jesus’ filial devotion to God and fraternal devotion to every man (cf. Rom 5:5).

The relationship between these two virtues resembles that between the two fundamental sacraments of the Church: Baptism and Eucharist. Baptism (sacramentum fidei) precedes the Eucharist (sacramentum caritatis), but is ordered to it, the Eucharist being the fullness of the Christian journey. In a similar way, faith precedes charity, but faith is genuine only if crowned by charity. Everything begins from the humble acceptance of faith (“knowing that one is loved by God”), but has to arrive at the truth of charity (“knowing how to love God and neighbour”), which remains for ever, as the fulfilment of all the virtues (cf. 1 Cor 13:13).

[Pope Benedict, Message for Lent 2013]

2725 Prayer is a gift of grace and a decisive response on our part. It always presupposes an effort. The great prayers of the Old Covenant before Christ, as well as the Mother of God and the saints with him teach us: prayer is a struggle. Against whom? Against ourselves and against the wiles of the tempter who does everything possible to divert man from prayer, from union with his God. One prays as one lives, because one lives as one prays. If one does not habitually act according to the Spirit of Christ, one cannot habitually pray in his name either. The "spiritual combat" of the Christian's new life is inseparable from the combat of prayer.

2765. The traditional expression 'Sunday Prayer' (i.e. 'Lord's Prayer') means that the prayer to our Father is taught and given to us by the Lord Jesus. This prayer that comes to us from Jesus is truly unique: it is "of the Lord". For on the one hand, with the words of this prayer, the only-begotten Son gives us the words that the Father gave him: he is the teacher of our prayer. On the other hand, Word incarnate, he knows in his human heart the needs of his brothers and sisters in humanity, and manifests them to us: he is the model of our prayer.

[Catechism of the Catholic Church]

The wounds of Jesus are still present on earth. In order to recognise them, it is necessary to go out of ourselves and encounter our brothers and sisters in need, the sick, the ignorant, the poor, the exploited. This is the 'exodus' that Pope Francis pointed out to Christians in the homily of the Mass celebrated on Saturday morning, 11 May, in the chapel of the Domus Sanctae Marthae.

It is a matter - the Pontiff explained - of "an exit from ourselves" made possible by prayer "towards the Father in the name of Jesus". The prayer that "bores us", on the other hand, is "always within ourselves, like a thought that comes and goes. But true prayer is to go out from ourselves to the Father in the name of Jesus, it is an exodus from ourselves" that is accomplished "with the intercession of Jesus himself, who before the Father makes him see his wounds".

But how can we recognise these wounds of Jesus? How is it possible to trust in these plagues if one does not know them? And what is "the school where one learns to know the wounds of Jesus, these priestly wounds, these wounds of intercession?" The Pope's response was explicit: "If we do not succeed in making this exit from ourselves towards those wounds, we will never learn the freedom that leads us to the other exit from ourselves, towards the wounds of Jesus".

Hence the image of the two "exits from ourselves" indicated by the Holy Father: the first is "towards the wounds of Jesus, the other towards the wounds of our brothers and sisters. And this is the way Jesus wants in our prayer'. Words that find confirmation in the Gospel of John (16:23-28) in the liturgy of the day. A passage in which Jesus is of a disarming clarity: "Truly, truly, I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you". In these words," the Pontiff noted, "there is a novelty in prayer: 'In my name'. The Father therefore "will give us everything, but always in the name of Jesus".

What does this asking in the name of Jesus mean? It is a novelty that Jesus reveals precisely "at the moment when he leaves the earth and returns to the Father". On the Solemnity of the Ascension celebrated last Thursday - the Pope recalled - a passage from the Letter to the Hebrews was read, where it says, among other things: "For we have the freedom to go to the Father". It is "a new freedom. The doors are open: Jesus, in going to the Father, left the door open". Not because "he forgot to close it", but because "he himself is the door". He is "our intercessor, and that is why he says: 'In my name'". In our prayer, characterised by "that courage which Jesus himself gives us", we then ask the Father in the name of Jesus: "Look at your Son and do this to me!".

The Holy Father then recalled the image of Jesus "entering the sanctuary of Heaven, as a priest. And Jesus, until the end of the world, is as priest, he makes intercession for us". And when we "ask the Father by saying 'Jesus', we are signalling, we are saying, we are referring to the intercessor. He prays for us before the Father".

Referring then to the wounds of Jesus, the Pontiff noted that Christ "in his resurrection, had a beautiful body: the wounds of the scourging, of the thorns, have disappeared, all of them. The bruises of the blows have disappeared". But he, he added, "always wanted to have the wounds, and the wounds are precisely his prayer of intercession to the Father". This is "the novelty that Jesus tells us", inviting us to "trust in his passion, trust in his victory over death, trust in his wounds". He is, in fact, the "priest and this is the sacrifice: his wounds". All this "gives us confidence, gives us the courage to pray", because, as the Apostle Peter wrote, "by his wounds you have been healed".

In conclusion, the Holy Father recalled another passage from John's Gospel: 'Until now you have asked nothing in my name: ask and you shall obtain, that your joy may be full'. The reference,' he explained, is to the 'joy of Jesus', to the 'joy that comes'. This is "the new way of praying: with trust", with that "courage that lets us know that Jesus is before the Father" and shows him his wounds; but also with the humility to recognise and find Jesus' wounds in his needy brothers and sisters. This is our prayer in charity.

"May the Lord," the Pontiff hoped, "give us this freedom to enter that sanctuary where He is priest and intercedes for us and whatever we ask the Father in His name, He will give it to us. But also give us the courage to go to that other "sanctuary" which are the wounds of our brothers and sisters in need, who suffer, who still bear the Cross and still have not won, as Jesus won".

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily, in L'Osservatore Romano 12/05/2013]

Affliction and joy in the pains of childbirth

(Jn 16:20-23a)

A widespread belief in Jesus' age was that the end time would be preceded by an excess of tribulation and violence.

The jubilation of the future golden age would be heralded by an unprecedented trials period.

The image of the parturient expressed the sense of intensely painful history in the turn of the times.

Hard times that were expected to be not excessively durable - compensated for by a liberation that would have one startled with joy.

The spirit of self-sufficiency and feigned security of the surrounding world [even of the religious caste, concerned with safeguarding itself] would have led church members into terrifying loneliness.

The faithful contradicted the “pious” and imperial way of considering life, based on false security and a spirit of affirmation.

The historical moment seemed invaded by sadness and at the same time by an ineffable, radical expectation, which paradoxically arose from the same cause of persecution.

Exclusion produced a sense of discouragement, but it was also a spring that activated incisive glances, and action, for a reverse fulfillment - in the living experience of the divine Presence.

Social estrangement triggered a situation of Freedom: it became an unexpected, profitable, tangible Gift.

Everything was proved to be useful in reconciling the multiplicity of faces with one's own scattered history, sisters and brothers, and God's future.

End of misunderstandings.

In light of the actual experience of the working Vision-Faith, even in malaise there would have been no questions to advance: only answers.

The mystery of each person’s existence was then eloquently elucidated, without scattershot questions anymore: rather, with inner guides.

In the figure of Jesus who "grees" his intimates, Jn introduces the Gift of the Paraclete. Spirit bearing the joy of the Master’s [silent] Presence.

Still «in the midst» - He was giving birth to the new world.

Frequent allusions to intimate sufferings in the text describe the reality of the Johannine communities of Asia Minor at the end of the first century, tormented by defections.

Oppression under Domitian was increasing, and many community brethren were impatient: they needed a key to profound interpretation, and a perspective.

They were not going to make it on their own, starting with themselves.

Jn intends to sustain the pains of believers and prevent flight, encouraging all to see persecution as a life-giving mechanism [birth pangs: v.21].

Only in this way would he who had death before his eyes not fear to continue in his frankness as a witness: he must have a strong Hope.

On such a ray of light and in the wake of God in history, step by step everything became clear.

In the life of the woman and the man of Faith, melancholy and joy went hand in hand - indeed, it was the absolute and lacerating trials that unleashed flow of life.

The death of Christ and his intimates made possible a new Birth of humanity.

Mystery of life, of tribulations, and of being in fullness «new creatures» ‘from genesis to genesis’.

It was precisely the travail that produced in the sons of God the joy of a rediscovered Presence, in the long time of evangelization - always in danger of going astray and in the temptation to give in.

We must remember this rhythm: sadness of leave-taking and new heart, joy and sadness...

Paradoxical synergy that can grow our engaging union with the Risen One, recognized as «personal Lord».

[Friday 6th wk. in Easter, May 15, 2026]

Affliction and joy in labour pains

(Jn 16:20-23a)

A widespread belief at the time of Jesus was that the last time would be preceded by an excess of tribulation and violence.

The joy of the coming golden age would be heralded by a period of unprecedented trials.

The image of the woman giving birth expressed the sense of the intensely painful history at the turn of the times.

Times that were not expected to be excessively long - compensated by a deliverance that would cause one to rejoice.

The spirit of self-sufficiency and feigned security of the surrounding world (even of the religious caste, preoccupied with safeguarding itself) would lead church members into terrifying loneliness.

The believers contradicted the pious and imperial way of looking at life, based on false certainties and a spirit of affirmation.

The moment in history seemed invaded by sadness and at the same time by an ineffable, radical expectation, which paradoxically arose from the same cause of persecution.

Exclusion produced a sense of discouragement, but it was also a spring that activated incisive glances, and action, for a reverse fulfilment - in the living experience of the divine Presence.

Social estrangement triggered a situation of Freedom: it became an unexpected, fruitful, tangible Gift.

Everything was shown to reconcile the multiplicity of faces with their own scattered history, brothers and sisters, God's future.

No more misunderstandings.

In the light of the real experience of the working Vision-Faith, even in the malaise there would be no questions to put forward: only answers.

The mystery of each person's existence was eloquently clarified, with no more scattering questions: rather, with inner guides.

In the figure of Jesus "greeting" his own, Jn introduces the Gift of the Paraclete. Spirit bearing the joy of the [silent] Presence of the Master.

Still in the midst - He was bringing the new world into being.

The frequent allusions to inner suffering in the text describe the reality of the Johannine communities in late 1st century Asia Minor, tormented by defections.

The oppression under Domitian was increasing, and many community brothers were impatient: they needed a profound key to interpretation, and perspective.

They would not have made it on their own, starting from themselves.

Jn intends to sustain the pains of the believers and to avoid flight, encouraging all to see in persecutions a generating mechanism of new life [labour pains: v.21].

Only in this way would those who had death before their eyes not be afraid to continue in their frankness as witnesses: they had to have a strong Hope.

On such a ray of light and in the wake of God in history, step by step everything became clear.

In the life of the woman and the man of Faith, melancholy and joy went hand in hand - indeed, it was the absolute and lacerating trials that unleashed the flow of life.

The death of Christ and his people made a new birth of humanity possible.

Mystery of life, of tribulations, and of being fully new creatures, from genesis to genesis.

In the Bible, Happiness is a perception of fullness of life, a place of celebration that transports the person and the entire fraternity from the ills of the journey - it is the great sign of the New World.

But the primitive communities experienced that intimate joy arose from the tears of a painful birth: this was also to be the case for the world to come; of unprecedented conquest and freedom.

From the labour pains arose a different, primordial life, filled with a different kind of exultation: dissonant from old forms, nomenclatures, and intentions, even for those giving birth.

In short, suffering did not deny the irradiation of the Spirit: it was a law of birth [not a negative force] that could indeed annihilate, but only those whose gaze was averted.

This was also the case with the Kingdom: its establishment happened within a struggle, never harmless - that even though it wounded outside and inside even the human substance, in the depths of the heart and relationships.

But it then reharmonised and more, in the thrill of discoveries, in the suggestions that throbbed - from which a new creation sprang.

To the official notes of the true Church [a holy catholic apostolic] one should perhaps add: harassed, scourged, nailed down. In this way, strengthened by a Word-Person that resonated within.

From all this came an unimpeded 'taste' from the earliest times, which immediately incurs worldly hostility. Nothing to do with empire and its pyramidal-feudal logic.

Precisely in the travail, each trial produced in the children of God the joy of a rediscovered Presence, in the long time of evangelisation - always in danger of going astray and in the temptation to yield.We must remember this rhythm: sadness of farewell and a new heart, joy and sadness....

Paradoxical synergy that can grow our engaging union with the Risen One, acknowledged Lord.

Spe Salvi

We somehow desire life itself, true life, which is then untouched even by death; but at the same time we do not know what we are being driven towards. We cannot cease striving towards it and yet we know that all that we can experience or realise is not what we long for. This unknown "thing" is the true "hope" that impels us and its being unknown is, at the same time, the cause of all despair as well as of all positive or destructive impulses towards the authentic world and authentic man. The word "eternal life" tries to give a name to this unknown known reality. Necessarily is an insufficient word that creates confusion. "Eternal', in fact, arouses in us the idea of the interminable, and this frightens us; 'life' makes us think of the life we know, which we love and do not want to lose, and which, however, is often at the same time more effort than fulfilment, so that while on the one hand we desire it, on the other hand we do not want it. We can only try to escape with our thoughts from the temporality of which we are prisoners and somehow presage that eternity is not a continuous succession of calendar days, but something like the moment filled with fulfilment, in which totality embraces us and we embrace totality. It would be the moment of diving into the ocean of infinite love, in which time - the before and the after - no longer exists. We can only try to think that this moment is life in the full sense, an ever new immersion in the vastness of being, while we are simply overwhelmed with joy. This is how Jesus expresses it in the Gospel of John: "I will see you again and your heart will rejoice and no one will be able to take your joy away" (16:22). We must think in this direction if we are to understand what Christian hope aims at, what we expect from faith, from our being with Christ.

[Pope Benedict, Spe Salvi n.12]

In some way we want life itself, true life, untouched even by death; yet at the same time we do not know the thing towards which we feel driven. We cannot stop reaching out for it, and yet we know that all we can experience or accomplish is not what we yearn for. This unknown “thing” is the true “hope” which drives us, and at the same time the fact that it is unknown is the cause of all forms of despair and also of all efforts, whether positive or destructive, directed towards worldly authenticity and human authenticity. The term “eternal life” is intended to give a name to this known “unknown”. Inevitably it is an inadequate term that creates confusion. “Eternal”, in fact, suggests to us the idea of something interminable, and this frightens us; “life” makes us think of the life that we know and love and do not want to lose, even though very often it brings more toil than satisfaction, so that while on the one hand we desire it, on the other hand we do not want it. To imagine ourselves outside the temporality that imprisons us and in some way to sense that eternity is not an unending succession of days in the calendar, but something more like the supreme moment of satisfaction, in which totality embraces us and we embrace totality—this we can only attempt. It would be like plunging into the ocean of infinite love, a moment in which time—the before and after—no longer exists. We can only attempt to grasp the idea that such a moment is life in the full sense, a plunging ever anew into the vastness of being, in which we are simply overwhelmed with joy. This is how Jesus expresses it in Saint John's Gospel: “I will see you again and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you” (16:22). We must think along these lines if we want to understand the object of Christian hope, to understand what it is that our faith, our being with Christ, leads us to expect.

[Pope Benedict, Spe Salvi n.12]

1. We have already heard several times from St Paul that "joy is the fruit of the Holy Spirit" (Gal 5:22), as are love and peace, which we have discussed in previous catecheses. It is clear that the Apostle speaks of true joy, that which fills the human heart, certainly not of a superficial and transitory joy, as worldly joy often is.

It is not difficult, to an observer moving even along the lines of psychology and experience, to discover that degradation, in the field of pleasure and love, is proportional to the emptiness left in man by the fallacious and disappointing joys sought in what St Paul called the "works of the flesh": "Fornication, impurity, libertinage . . . drunkenness, orgies and the like' (Gal 5:19, 21). To these false joys can be added - and they are often linked to them - those sought in the possession and inordinate use of wealth, in luxury, in the ambition of power, in short, in that passion and almost frenzy for earthly goods that easily produces blindness of mind, as St Paul warns (cf. Eph 4:18-19), and Jesus laments (cf. Mk 4:19).

2. Paul was referring to the situation of the pagan world, to exhort converts to beware of iniquities: "Ye have not thus learned to know Christ, if ye have indeed hearkened unto him, and have been instructed in him, according to the truth which is in Jesus, whereby ye must lay aside the old man with the former conduct, the man that corrupteth himself after deceitful lusts. You must be renewed in the spirit of your mind and put on the new man, created according to God in righteousness and true holiness' (Eph 4:20-24). It is the 'new creature' (2 Cor 5:17), which is the work of the Holy Spirit, present in the soul and in the Church. Therefore the Apostle concludes his exhortation to good conduct and peace this way: "Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were marked for the holy day of redemption" (Eph 4:30).

If the Christian "grieves" the Holy Spirit, who lives in his soul, he certainly cannot hope to possess true joy, which comes from him: "The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace . . ." (Gal 5:22). Only the Holy Spirit gives the deep, full and lasting joy to which every human heart yearns. Man is a being made for joy, not sadness. Paul VI reminded Christians and all people of our time of this in his apostolic exhortation 'Gaudete in Domino'. And true joy is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

3. In the Letter to the Galatians, Paul told us that joy is linked to charity (cf. Gal 5:22). It cannot therefore be a selfish experience, the result of disordered love. True joy includes the righteousness of the kingdom of God, of which St Paul says that "it is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit" (Rom 4:17).

It is evangelical righteousness, consisting in conformity to God's will, obedience to His laws, personal friendship with Him. Outside this friendship there is no true joy. Indeed, 'sadness as an evil and vice,' St Thomas explains, 'is caused by disordered self-love, which . . . is the general root of vices' (S. Thomae, Summa theologiae, II-II, q. 28, a. 4, ad 1; cf. ibid., I-II, q. 72, a. 4). Especially sin is a source of sadness, because it is a deviation and almost a distortion of the soul from God's righteous order, which gives consistency to life. The Holy Spirit, who works in man the new righteousness in charity, removes sadness and gives joy: that joy we see flourishing in the Gospel.

4. The Gospel is an invitation to joy and an experience of true and deep joy. Thus in the Annunciation, Mary is invited to rejoice: 'Rejoice (Khaire), full of grace' (Lk 1:28). It is the crowning of a whole series of invitations formulated by the prophets in the Old Testament (cf. Zech 9:9; Zeph 3:14-17; Gl 2:21-27; Is 54:1). Mary's joy will be realised with the coming of the Holy Spirit, announced to Mary as the reason for the "Rejoicing".

In the Visitation, Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit and joy, in the natural and supernatural participation in the exultation of her son who is still in her womb: "The child has rejoiced with joy in my womb" (Lk 1:44). Elizabeth perceives her son's joy, and manifests it, but it is the Holy Spirit who, according to the evangelist, fills both of them with such joy. Mary, in turn, just then hears the song of exultation gushing forth from her heart, expressing the humble, clear and profound joy that fills her almost in fulfilment of the Angel's "Rejoice": "My spirit exults in God, my Saviour" (Lk 1:47). Mary's words also echo the prophets' voice of joy, as echoed in the Book of Habakkuk: "I will rejoice in the Lord, I will exult in God my Saviour" (Hab 3:18).A prolongation of this rejoicing occurs during the presentation of the child Jesus in the Temple, when, upon meeting him, Simeon rejoices under the impulse of the Holy Spirit who had made him long to see the Messiah and had prompted him to go to the Temple (cf. Lk 2, 26-32); and in her turn, the prophetess Anna, so called by the evangelist, who therefore presents her as a woman consecrated to God and interpreter of his thoughts and commands, according to the tradition of Israel (cf. Ex 15, 20; Jdc 4, 9; 2 Kings 22, 14), expresses with praise to God the intimate joy that also originates in her from the Holy Spirit (Lk 2, 36-38).

5. In the Gospel pages concerning Jesus' public life, we read that, at a certain moment, he himself "rejoiced in the Holy Spirit" (Lk 10:21). Jesus expresses joy and gratitude in a prayer that celebrates the Father's benevolence: "I praise you, O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the learned and the wise and revealed them to the little ones. Yes, Father, for it pleased you" (Lk 10:21). In Jesus, joy takes on its full force in the impulse towards the Father. So it is with the joys stimulated and sustained by the Holy Spirit in people's lives: their secret vitality directs them in the direction of a love full of gratitude towards the Father. All true joy has the Father as its ultimate end.

To the disciples Jesus addresses the invitation to rejoice, to overcome the temptation of sadness for the departure of the Master, because this departure is a condition laid down in the divine plan for the coming of the Holy Spirit: "It is good for you that I am going away, because if I do not go away, the Paraclete will not come to you; but when I am gone, I will send him to you" (Jn 16:7). It will be the gift of the Spirit that will bring the disciples great joy, indeed the fullness of joy, according to the intention expressed by Jesus. The Saviour, in fact, after inviting the disciples to remain in his love, had said: "This I have spoken to you that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be full" (Jn 15:11; cf. Jn 17:13). It is the Holy Spirit who puts into the hearts of the disciples the same joy as Jesus, the joy of faithfulness to the love that comes from the Father.

St Luke attests that the disciples, who at the time of the Ascension had received the promise of the gift of the Holy Spirit, "returned to Jerusalem with great joy and were always in the temple praising God" (Lk 24:52-53). In the Acts of the Apostles it appears that, after Pentecost, a climate of profound joy had been created in the Apostles, which was communicated to the community in the form of exultation and enthusiasm in embracing the faith, receiving baptism, and living together, as evidenced by "taking meals with gladness and simplicity of heart, praising God and enjoying the sympathy of all the people" (Acts 2:46-47). The book of Acts notes: "The disciples were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit" (Acts 13, 52).

6. Soon would come the tribulations and persecutions foretold by Jesus in announcing the coming of the Paraclete-Consoler (cf. Jn 16:1ff). But according to Acts, joy endures even in trial: we read that the Apostles, when they were brought before the Sanhedrin, flogged, admonished and sent home, returned "rejoicing that they had been outraged for the sake of the name of Jesus. And every day, in the temple and at home, they did not cease to teach and to bring the good news that Jesus is the Christ" (Acts 5:41-42).

This, after all, is the condition and lot of Christians, as St Paul reminds the Thessalonians: "You have become imitators of us and of the Lord, having received the word with the joy of the Holy Spirit even in the midst of great tribulation" (1 Thess 1:6). Christians, according to Paul, repeat in themselves the paschal mystery of Christ, which has the Cross as its pivot. But its crowning glory is the "joy of the Holy Spirit" for those who persevere in trials. This is the joy of the beatitudes, and more particularly the beatitude of the afflicted, and of the persecuted (cf. Mt 5:4, 10-12). Did not the Apostle Paul say: 'I rejoice in the sufferings I endure for you . . ." (Col 1:24)? And Peter, for his part, exhorted: "Inasmuch as you share in Christ's sufferings, rejoice, that in the revelation of his glory you may also rejoice and exult" (1 Pet 4:13).

Let us pray to the Holy Spirit to kindle in us more and more the desire for heavenly goods and make us one day enjoy their fullness: "Give virtue and reward, give holy death, give eternal joy.

Amen.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 19 June 1991]