(Mt 16:13-19)

Over half of his public life, Jesus has not yet given formulas, but He raises a demanding question - which claims to ask us much more than the usual expressions with a legal structure.

The crowd may have approached Him to eminent characters such as the Baptist [the one who proved to be alien to courtiers] or Elijah [for his activity of denouncing idols] or Jeremiah [the opponent of the blessings’ sale].

But He did not come - like ancient prophets - to improve the situation or to regret and mend devotions, nor to purify the Temple, but to replace it!

The images of tradition depict Christ in many ways (for atheists a philanthropist), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, guarantor of conventional behavior.

Instead - to make us reflect - He takes the disciples to a construction site environment [north of Palestine, Caesarea Philippi was under construction], far from the interested nomenclature of the "holy" City.

Common mentality evaluated the life’ success - and the truth of a religion - on the basis of glory, domination, enrichment, and security in general.

The question that Jesus rises his disciples leaks a novelty that supplants the whole system: the Call is addressed to every single person.

It is a border proposal, like the symbolic geographical place of the capital of the reign of Philip, one of the three heir sons of Herod the Great: in Palestine, the farthest point from the center of conformist religiosity.

The Face of the «Son of man» is recognizable only by placing maximum distance from political and veterans schemes - otherwise we too would not be able to perceive His personal ‘light’.

In the community of Mt, an increasingly large participation of pagans was being experienced, who previously felt excluded and gradually integrated.

For our mentality, the house keys are used to close and tighten the door, to prevent the attackers from entering.

In the Semitic one, they were rather an icon of the door’s opening.

In Perugino’s famous masterpiece on the north wall of the Sistine Chapel, Jesus gives the head of the Church two keys: the golden one of Paradise and the silver of Purgatory.

But the meaning of the passage is not the Afterlife - on the contrary, it is not even institutional. In Hebrew the term ‘key’ is derived from the verb ‘to open’!

The greatest missionary task of community leaders is to keep the Kingdom of Heaven wide open, that is, to ensure a welcoming Church!

Peter must not trace the type of arrogant monarch, image of authority; emperor’ substitute.

Simon must take first responsibility for the acceptance of those who are outside.

It seems strange for any ancient proposal, where God was supposed to be afraid of becoming impure in contact with the world.

The Father is the One who dares the most.

This is the reason why Jesus strictly imposes a total messianic silence (v.20) on the lips and the ancient brain of the Apostles.

Peter and the disciples wanted to return to the usual idea of «the» Messiah [cf. Greek text] expected by everyone.

An all too normal canvas, incapable of regenerating us.

[St Peter and Paul, June 29]

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, 29 June

Disparate: difference between religiosity and faith (the Church to come)

On the same date, the Church celebrates two dissimilar disciples.

Both are far removed from models of conformity and eccentricity - indeed, they are digressive, unsettling and restless.

One grows by accumulating uncertain experiences: a little like Peter (stubborn and hostile), a little like Simon (a disciple, but rarely), a little like Simon Peter (pro and con, with one foot in both camps).

The other grows, yes, but through an immediate fall from the ideology of being and feeling purer and higher than others:

in an instant, from the fiery 'steed' of the leaders and judges to the working class capable of listening and benevolence.

Suddenly, from Saul to Paul.

The first, an apostle out of eagerness and long habit [in coming and going], the other by direct calling. Not by the laying on of hands by superiors with pious lives who should have known better than him.

An immediate vocation - it upsets and overturns the way of seeing things.

Neither of the two protagonists was a devout and obedient son: both were rather stubborn and eager, but each in his own way; one uncertain and diplomatic, the other sharp.

For a long time they were restless and even opposed to Christ.

Even in the Proclamation, Catechesis, Animation, Pastoral Care and works of charity, we begin to realise that the starting point of Evangelisation is not the usual, reassuring one, which only teaches others [and transmits false security].

The input is to raise questions that involve people personally.

And any initiative is useful first and foremost to improve those who propose it - not the crowds who would otherwise remain unaware.

This is the cornerstone of the attitude towards the fullness of good and the fulfilment of every human being.

In the unity of the Faith, diverse gifts come together.

We are not called to be paternalistic or firefighters, rushing to extinguish fires that we do not even know about but which burn brightly (only beyond the chimney of our own homes).

The Church of the future also depends on our mindset.

The cornerstone of living Tradition is believing in the world to come - not despite, but because of its differences.

Divine love manifests itself, makes itself present, intervenes in many ways.

The sparks that fuel the Flame of the Spirit are varied: they all illuminate and warm the world... unless we build a wall of refractory material around them.

This sometimes happens in the territory, at the hands of consortia. With young people's cunning already normalised, or old fogies afraid of losing the privileges on which they float.

A scene of cunning and still waters, already reeking of death.

But in the personal Christ, even our insecurity opens unexplored paths to new worlds.

Every missionary knows that his 'certainty' is the fruit of a question mark.

An added value that he does not know; the product of a primordial force that arises from the chaos of his own or others' predictability.

The varied formation and even the turmoil of the facets become a place of Peace.

Possibility of the Immense, rather than a foothold for retreat under penalty of punishment typical of religious condemnation.

While doctrine and discipline instil certainties and stubborn expectations that would make us travel only on tracks already laid out, Faith allows itself to be guided by Providence manifested in real life, which surprises us.

An adherence, a creative relationship - Faith - with a mysterious Energy, always pure, clear, transparent, intact, uncontaminated.

An appeal by name that brings us face to face with ourselves and God, without ever depersonalising.

Only in this way can we achieve harmony. This is the church of the future.

In fact, those who are uncertain and cannot immediately draw conclusions go all the way: they do not abandon, marginalise or betray; they do not use their religious position as a weapon of blackmail.

They do no harm.

«When the weaver raises one foot, the other lowers. When the movement stops and one of the feet stops, the fabric is no longer woven. His hands throw the shuttle from one to the other, but no hand can hope to hold it. Like the weaver's gestures, it is the union of opposites that weaves our life».

[African Peul oral tradition]

Homage to the Polyhedron and not to the Sphere. Diversity and Plurality mean space for each of us, as we are. Expanded, not 'better'.

Not homogeneous, not regular, not standardised. Even if the local chain of command does not want it.

Homage to the Church? Not the uniform and standard one. The strange couple Peter and Paul were not.

Homage to the Church, Homage to Life.

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, 29 June

    On the very same date, the Church celebrates two very different disciples.

Both are entirely removed from models of conformity and uneccentric holiness – indeed, they are wayward, neither reassuring nor tranquil.

One grows by accumulating uncertain experiences: a bit like Peter (stubborn and hostile), a bit like Simon (a disciple, but rarely so), a bit like Simon Peter (for and against, with one foot in each camp).

The other does indeed grow, but through an immediate fall from the ideology of being and feeling purer and superior to others:

in an instant, from the fiery ‘steed’ of the leaders and judges, to the common folk capable of listening and showing kindness.

Suddenly, from Saul to Paul.

The first, an Apostle through zeal and long habit [of coming and going]; the other through a direct Calling. Not through the laying on of hands by superiors of pious lives who ought to have known better than him.

An immediate vocation – it unsettles, turns one’s way of seeing the world on its head.

Neither of the two protagonists was a devout and obedient son: both were rather headstrong and impetuous, but each in his own way; one in an uncertain and diplomatic manner, the other in a sharp-tongued one.

For a long time, they were restless and even opponents of Christ.

Even in Proclamation, Catechesis, Animation, Pastoral Care and works of charity, we are beginning to realise that the starting point for evangelisation is not the usual, reassuring one, which merely teaches others [and conveys false certainties].

The aim is to raise questions that engage people personally.

And any initiative serves, first and foremost, to improve those who propose it – not the crowds who lack awareness.

This is the cornerstone of our attitude towards the full good and the fulfilment of every human being.

In the unity of the Faith, diverse gifts converge.

We are not called to be paternalistic, nor to act as firefighters: rushing to extinguish little fires that we do not even know about but which are burning well (only beyond the hood of our own fireplace).

The Church of the future also depends on our mindset.

The cornerstone of the living Tradition is belief in the world to come – not in spite of, but thanks to its differences.

Divine love manifests itself, makes itself present, and intervenes in many ways.

The sparks that feed the Flame of the Spirit are varied: they all illuminate and warm the world. … unless a wall of refractory bricks is built around them.

This sometimes happens on the ground, at the hands of interest groups. Through youthful cunning that has already become the norm, or old fogies fearful of losing the privileges upon which they float.

A landscape of cunning and still waters, already dead.

But in the personal Christ, even our insecurity opens up unexplored paths towards new worlds.

Every missionary knows their ‘certainty’ to be the fruit of a question mark.

An added value they do not recognise; the product of a primordial force that rises from the chaos of their own or others’ predictability.

The varied formation and even the turmoil of its many facets become a place of Peace.

A possibility of the Immense, rather than a pretext for retreat under threat of punishment typical of religious condemnations.

Whilst doctrine and discipline instil certainties and stubborn expectations that would have us travel only along pre-determined tracks, Faith allows itself to be guided by Providence as manifested in real life, which takes us by surprise.

An adherence, a creative Relationship – Faith – born of a mysterious Energy, always pure, clear, transparent, intact, uncontaminated.

A call by Name that brings us face to face with ourselves and God, without ever depersonalising us.

Only in this way can harmony be achieved. This is the church to come.

Indeed, those who are uncertain and cannot immediately draw conclusions see things through to the end: they do not abandon, they do not marginalise, they do not betray; they do not use their religious position as a weapon of blackmail.

They do no harm.

‘When the weaver lifts one foot, the other comes down. When the movement ceases and one of the feet stops, the fabric is no longer woven. His hands throw the shuttle as it passes from one to the other; but no hand can hope to hold it. Like the weaver’s gestures, it is the union of opposites that weaves our lives.’

[African Fulani oral tradition]

A tribute to the Polyhedron, not the Sphere. Diversity and Plurality mean space for each of us, just as we are. Expanded, not ‘better’.

Not homogeneous, not regular, not standardised. Even if the local chain of command does not want it.

A tribute to the Church? Not the uniform, standardised one. The odd couple, Peter and Paul, were not like that.

A tribute to the Church, a tribute to life.

Who I Am, the Keys, Faith, the Name

Who am I to you, and the Keys to the open community

(Mt 16:13–23)

    More than halfway through his public life, Jesus has not yet offered any formulas, but poses a challenging question – one that demands far more of us than the usual legalistic expressions.

Broadly speaking, the crowd may have likened him to eminent figures such as John the Baptist [who proved himself a stranger to courtly flattery] or Elijah [for his denunciation of idols] or Jeremiah [the opponent of the buying and selling of blessings].

But He did not come – like the ancient prophets – to improve the situation or patch up devotions, nor to purify the Temple, but rather to replace it!

Traditional imagery depicts Christ in many ways (as a philanthropist to atheists), the most widespread of which is still that of an ancient Lord, the guarantor of conventional behaviour.

He, on the other hand – to make us reflect – takes his disciples to a building site [in northern Palestine; Caesarea Philippi was under construction], far from the self-serving rhetoric of the ‘holy’ City.

The common mindset judged the success of life – and the truth of a religion – on the basis of success, dominance, wealth and security in general.

The question Jesus poses to his disciples reveals a novelty that upends the entire system: the Call is addressed to every single person.

It is a proposal that pushes boundaries, much like the symbolic geographical location of the capital of the kingdom of Philip, one of the three sons and heirs of Herod the Great: in Palestine, the point furthest from the centre of conformist religiosity.

The Face of the ‘Son of Man’ can only be recognised by placing oneself as far as possible from political schemes and the established order – otherwise we too would be unable to perceive his personal ‘light’.

In the community described in Matthew, there was indeed an experience of an ever-increasing participation of Gentiles, who had previously felt excluded but were gradually becoming integrated.

In our way of thinking, house keys are used to lock and bolt the front door, to keep out intruders.

In the Semitic tradition, however, they were rather a symbol of opening the door.

In Perugino’s famous masterpiece on the north wall of the Sistine Chapel, Jesus hands the head of the Church two keys: the golden key to Paradise and the silver key to Purgatory.

But the meaning of the passage is not about the afterlife – indeed, it is not even institutional in nature. In Hebrew, the term ‘key’ is derived from the verb ‘to open’!

The primary missionary task of community leaders is to keep the Kingdom of Heaven wide open, that is, to ensure a welcoming Church!

Peter must not emulate the archetype of the arrogant monarch, an image of authority standing in for the emperor.

Simon must take primary responsibility for welcoming those who are outside.

This seems strange by the standards of any ancient teaching, where it was assumed that God feared becoming defiled through contact with the world.

The Father is the One who dares the most.

This is why Jesus strictly imposes total messianic silence (v.20) upon the lips and the traditional mindset of the Apostles.

Peter and the disciples wanted to return to the familiar idea of ‘the’ Messiah [cf. Greek text] awaited by all.

A script that is far too ordinary, incapable of renewing us.

But who do you say that I am? Peter’s Faith

Distancing oneself from what one hopes for

    Jesus leads his followers away from the realm of the ideology of power and from the sacred centre of the official religious institution – Judea.

The Lord wants his closest followers to distance themselves from limitations and expectations.

The relative success achieved by the Master in Galilee had, in fact, rekindled the apostles’ hopes of (one-sided) glory.

The region of Caesarea Philippi, in the far north of Palestine, was enchanting; renowned for its fertility and lush pastures. An area famous for the beauty of its surroundings and the abundance of its flocks and herds.

Even the disciples were captivated by the landscape and the comfortable lifestyle of the region’s inhabitants; not to mention the magnificence of the palaces.

The reference to the setting alludes to the comforts generally offered by pagan religion; excessive prosperity that enchanted the Twelve.

Christ asks the apostles – in effect – what the people expected of Him. In this way, He wants them to realise the harmful effects of their own preaching.

A ‘proclamation’ that readily conflated material and spiritual blessings.

Whilst the gods demonstrate their ability to shower their devotees with riches – and a lavish court life that (precisely) captivated everyone – what does Christ offer?

The Master realises that the disciples were still heavily influenced by the propaganda of the political and religious authorities [vv. 6, 11], which promised prosperity [vv. 5–12; cf. Mt 15:32–38].

And Jesus instructs them once more, so that at least his emissaries might overcome the blindness and the crisis brought about by his Cross (v. 21), by the commitment required in the spirit of self-giving.

He is not merely a follower of the Baptist’s uncompromising stance, never inclined to compromise with the courts or opulence; nor is he one of the many restorers of the Law of Moses, with the zeal of Elijah.

Nor did he wish merely to purify religion of spurious elements, but rather to take the place of the Temple [Mt 21:12–17, 18–19, 42; 23:2, 37–39; 24:30] – the place of encounter between the Father and his children.

On this issue, at that time, the rifts were particularly acute, not only with regard to paganism, but also in the conflicts between Jews who had converted to the Lord and those who observed the tradition.

Indeed, the sacred texts of late Judaism spoke of great figures who had left their mark on the history of Israel, and who were expected to reappear to usher in the messianic age.

Even within the persecuted communities of Galilee and Syria, Matthew notes a lack of understanding and the great difficulty in embracing the new proposal – one which offered no guarantee of success or recognition, nor any immediate rewards.

(From the very first generations, it was realised that Faith does not easily align with our most basic human impulses: indeed, it is disconcerting, given our obvious perspectives and instincts).

Thus the Master contradicts Peter himself [vv. 20, 23], whose view remained tied to the conformist and populist idea of ‘the’ [vv. 16, 20: ‘that’] expected Messiah.

In short, the leader of the apostles – so weak in faith – must stop pointing out to Christ which path to follow ‘behind’ him [v. 23], thereby leading him astray!

Simon must start afresh as a disciple; he must stop laying out for everyone well-trodden and opportunistic paths, hijacking God in God’s own name.

The Lord is the One who dares the most.

A special note on the subject of the Name:

Whilst in our culture it is often merely a label, amongst Eastern peoples the name is one and the same with the person, and designates them in a special way.

As can be seen, for example, in the ‘second’ commandment, the power of the Name carries great weight: it is a matter of knowing the (divine) Subject in essence and in the meaning of action; almost a taking hold of His power.

Even in our own tradition of prayer, spirituality and mysticism, the proper Name (e.g. Jesus) has often been regarded as almost an auditory icon of the person, embodying their virtues; evocative of their presence and power.

In ancient cultures, uttering a name meant being able to grasp the seed, the meaningful and all-encompassing core of the figure in question.

Not infrequently, even in our own way of thinking, it has been seen as expressing an omen, a mandate, a wish, a blessing, a vocation, a destiny, a task, a calling, a mission [nomen (est) omen].

But this is where the difference between a sacred mindset and Faith becomes apparent. In religions, the proper name that the master or founder bestows upon the disciple is a sort of signpost: anyone lacking the insight, fortune, strength or courage to fulfil it would diminish in dignity.

Christ, on the other hand, through his titles, calls us to follow a path – certainly – but one that is deeply commensurate with our essence.

He spurs us on to an exodus – not according to set models – because first he leads the person back into themselves. So that we may all put ourselves on the line, deeply and to the extent that is appropriate.

First step: to encounter ourselves in our entirety; in our various facets, even the surprising, unexpressed or unknown ones – generally, traits unimaginable according to rules and classifications.

Even our eccentric, ambiguous, hidden or even personally rejected ways of being: these will reveal the best sides of ourselves along the Way.

Only on this multifaceted path do we find the way to an adventure rich in meaning; not mechanical, nor repetitive – but rather like life itself: always new and authentic.

Not starting from superficial appearances or calculated pretences: there is an Author’s signature that precedes us, in the building up of ourselves and the world.

Passing through the various building sites in the city of Philip, Jesus instead chose to compare Simon to the inert, piled-up materials (even in a rather haphazard manner) that lay before him.

That situation struck at the very root of the apostles’ expectations!

The disciples had not yet made room within themselves for the Mystery, for the idea of a secret salvation that bursts forth with its own innate energy; one that transcends ordinary dreams.

‘Cefa’ is in fact derived from the Aramaic ‘Kefas’: a building stone; something hard: in practical terms, a stubborn man like so many others; nothing special, quite the contrary. Jesus gives Simon a derogatory nickname!

In fact, the Greek term ‘petros’ [v.18] is not a proper name: it refers to a stone (picked up from the ground) which can indeed be useful for building – provided, of course, it is shaped to fit. And which not only supports, but is supported; which not only brings together, but is brought together.

Note: the Greek term ‘petra’ [v.18] is not the feminine form of ‘petros’: it means ‘rock’, and refers to the Person of Christ, our sole security (together with faith in Him).

A name that unpredictably transforms an entire life. For it is only the inner Friend who draws from our [even flawed] baggage that which is unforeseen and which wells up.

Each of us is chiselled by the Lord according to the name Peter, in the sense of a unique piece, an individual and special element.

Placed in a singular way yet within a great mosaic: that of the history of salvation, where each of us is simultaneously ourselves and in a constant state of regeneration.

The sole sense of belonging shared by the many building stones (all living): the conviviality of differences, the communion of disparate fraternal members within the ministerial Church.

None for ever, but everywhere (ceaselessly) pulsating nuclei of a humble institution, entirely gathered from the earth… Freed without cost.

Catholicity means universality - a multiplicity that becomes unity; a unity that nevertheless remains multiplicity. From Paul's words on the Church's universality we have already seen that the ability of nations to get the better of themselves in order to look towards the one God, is part of this unity. In the second century, the founder of Catholic theology, St Irenaeus of Lyons, described very beautifully this bond between catholicity and unity and I quote him. He says: "The Church spread across the world diligently safeguards this doctrine and this faith, forming as it were one family: the same faith, with one mind and one heart, the same preaching, teaching and tradition as if she had but one mouth. Languages abound according to the region but the power of our tradition is one and the same. The Churches in Germany do not differ in faith or tradition, neither do those in Spain, Gaul, Egypt, Libya, the Orient, the centre of the earth; just as the sun, God's creature, is one alone and identical throughout the world, so the light of true preaching shines everywhere and illuminates all who desire to attain knowledge of the truth" (Adv. Haer. I 10, 2). The unity of men and women in their multiplicity has become possible because God, this one God of heaven and earth, has shown himself to us; because the essential truth about our lives, our "where from?" and "where to?" became visible when he revealed himself to us and enabled us to see his face, himself, in Jesus Christ. This truth about the essence of our being, living and dying, a truth that God made visible, unites us and makes us brothers and sisters. Catholicity and unity go hand in hand. And unity has a content: the faith that the Apostles passed on to us in Christ's name.

[Pope Benedict, 29 June 2005]

1. "Who do you say that I am?" (Mt 16: 15).

Jesus asks the disciples this question about his identity while he is with them in upper Galilee. It often happened that they would ask Jesus questions; now it is he who questions them. His is a precise question that awaits an answer. Simon Peter speaks for them all:  "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" (Mt 16: 16).

The answer is extraordinarily clear. The Church's faith is perfectly reflected in it. We are reflected in it too. The Bishop of Rome, his unworthy successor by divine will, is particularly reflected in Peter's words. Around him and with him you are reflected in these words, dear Metropolitan Archbishops, who have come here from many parts of the world to receive the pallium on the Solemnity of Sts Peter and Paul.

I offer my cordial greetings to each of you, a greeting which I gladly extend to those who have accompanied you to Rome and to your communities who are spiritually united with us on this solemn occasion.

2. "You are the Christ!". Jesus replies to Peter's confession:  "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven" (Mt 16: 17).

Blessed are you, Peter! Blessed because you could not have humanly recognized this truth, which is central to the Church's faith, except by God's action. "No one", Jesus said, "knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal him" (Mt 11: 27).

We are reflecting on this extraordinarily rich Gospel passage:  the incarnate Word had revealed the Father to his disciples; now is the moment when the Father himself reveals his only Only-begotten Son to them. Peter receives inner enlightenment and courageously proclaims:  "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God!".

These words on Peter's lips come from the depths of God's mystery. They reveal the intimate truth, the very life of God. And Peter, under the action of the divine Spirit, becomes a witness and confessor of this superhuman truth. His profession of faith thus forms the firm basis of the Church's faith:  "On this rock I will build my Church" (Mt 16: 18). The Church of Christ is built on Peter's faith and fidelity.

The first Christian community was very conscious of this. As the Acts of the Apostles recount, when Peter was in prison it gathered to raise an earnest prayer to God for him (cf. Acts 12: 5). It was heard, because Peter's presence was still necessary for the community as it took its first steps:  the Lord sent his angel to free him from the hands of his persecutors (cf. ibid., 12: 7-11). It was written in God's plan that Peter, after long strengthening his brothers in faith, would undergo martyrdom here in Rome together with Paul, the Apostle of the nations, who had also escaped death several times.

3. "The Lord stood by me and gave me strength to proclaim the word fully, that all the Gentiles might hear it" (2 Tm 4: 17). These are the words of Paul to his faithful disciple Timothy:  we heard them in the second reading. They testify to what the Lord accomplished in him after he chose him as a minister of the Gospel and "grasped" him on the road to Damascus (cf. Phil 3: 12).

The Lord had come to him in a blaze of light, saying:  "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? " (Acts 9: 4), while a mysterious force threw him to the ground. "Who are you, Lord?", Saul had asked him. "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting!" (Acts 9: 5). This was Christ's answer. Saul had been persecuting Jesus' followers, and Jesus told him that it was he himself who was being persecuted in them. He, Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One who Christians said had risen. If Saul now experienced his powerful presence, it was clear that God really had raised him from the dead. He, in fact, was the Messiah awaited by Israel; he was the Christ living and present in the Church and in the world!

Could Saul have understood with his reason alone all that such an event entailed? Certainly not! It was, in fact, part of God's mysterious plan. It would be the Father who would give Paul the grace of knowing the mystery of the redemption accomplished in Christ. It would be God who would enable him to understand the marvellous reality of the Church, which lives for Christ, with Christ and in Christ. And he, who had come to share in this truth, would continuously and tirelessly proclaim it to the very ends of the earth.

From Damascus, Paul would begin his apostolic journey which would lead him to spread the Gospel in so many parts of the then known world. His missionary zeal would thus help to fulfil the command Christ gave to the Apostles:  "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations ..." (Mt 28:  19).

4. Dear Brothers in the Episcopate who have come to receive the pallium, your presence eloquently highlights the Church's universal dimension which sprang from the Lord's command:  "Go ... and make disciples of all nations" (Mt 28: 19).

You come, in fact, from 15 countries on four continents and were called by the Lord to be Pastors of Metropolitan Churches. The conferral of the pallium clearly stresses the special bond of communion which joins you to the See of Peter and expresses the Church's universal nature.
Whenever you wear these pallia, remember, dear Brothers, that as Pastors we are called to safeguard the purity of the Gospel and the unity of Christ's Church, founded on the "rock" of Peter's faith. The Lord calls us to this; this is our inescapable mission as far-sighted guides of the flock which the Lord has entrusted to us.

5. The full unity of the Church! I feel Christ's command echoing within me. It is a particularly urgent command at the beginning of this new millennium. Let us pray and work for this, without ever growing weary of hoping.

With these sentiments, I affectionately embrace and greet the Delegation from the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople, which has come to celebrate with us the liturgical feast of Peter and Paul. Thank you, Venerable Brothers, for your presence and for your heartfelt participation in this solemn liturgical celebration. May God grant us to achieve as soon as possible the full unity of all believers in Christ.

May we obtain this gift through the Apostles Peter and Paul, who are remembered by the Church of Rome on this day that commemorates their martyrdom and therefore their birth to life in God. For the sake of the Gospel they accepted suffering and death, and became sharers in the Lord's Resurrection. Their faith, confirmed by martyrdom, is the same faith as that of Mary, the Mother of believers, of the Apostles and of the saints of every age.

Today the Church again proclaims their faith. It is our faith, the Church's unchanging faith in Jesus, the only Saviour of the world; in Christ, the Son of the living God, who died and rose for us and for all humanity.

[Pope John Paul II, 29 June 2000]

Saints Peter and Paul, whom we celebrate today, are sometimes depicted in icons as they support the edifice of the Church. This reminds us of the words in today’s Gospel in which Jesus says to Peter: “you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church” (Mt 16:18). It is the first time that Jesus utters the word ‘Church’ but more than the noun, I would like to invite you today to think about the adjective, which is possessive, ‘my’: my Church. Jesus does not speak of the Church as an external reality, but he expresses the great love he has for her: my Church. He is devoted to the Church, to us. Saint Paul writes: “Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Eph 5:25), that is, the Apostle explains, Jesus loves the Church as his bride. For the Lord we are not a group of believers or a religious organization. We are his bride. He looks upon his Church with tenderness. He loves her with absolute fidelity despite our mistakes and our betrayals. As he said that day to Peter, he says to all of us today: “my Church, you are my Church”.

And we too can repeat it: my Church. We do not say this with a sense of exclusive belonging but rather with an inclusive love. Not to distinguish ourselves from others but to appreciate the beauty of being with others because Jesus wants us to be united and open. Indeed the Church is not ‘mine’ because she responds to my ego, to my desires, but rather, because I pour my affection into her. She is mine because I care for her, because, like the Apostles in the icon, I too support her. How? With fraternal love. With our fraternal love we can say: my Church.

In another icon, Saints Peter and Paul are depicted as they are locked in an embrace. They were very different from each other: a fisherman and a Pharisee with rather different life experiences, characters, ways of doing things and sensitivities. Contrasting opinions and frank debates between them were not lacking (cf. Gal 2:11). But what united them was infinitely greater: Jesus was the Lord of both, together they would say “my Lord” to the One who says “my Church”. Brothers in the faith, they invite us to rediscover the joy of being brothers and sisters in the Church. On this feast day that unites two Apostles who were so different from each other, it would be beautiful for each of us to also say: “Thank you, Lord, for that person who is different from me: he or she is a gift for my Church”. We are different but this enriches us; it is brotherhood. It is good for us to appreciate the qualities of others, to recognize the gifts of others without malice or envy. Envy! Envy causes bitterness inside; it is vinegar to the heart. The envious have a bitter gaze. Many times when one meets an envious person, one feels like asking: what did he have for breakfast today, a caffelatte or vinegar? Because envy is sour. It makes life sour. Instead, how beautiful it is to know that we belong to each other because we share the same faith, the same love, the same hope, the same Lord. We belong to each other: and this is splendid, to say: our Church! Fraternity.

At the end of the Gospel Jesus says to Peter: “Tend my sheep” (Jn 21:17). He speaks of us and says “my sheep” with the same tenderness with which he says my Church. Jesus loves us with such love, such tenderness! He feels we are his own. This is the affection that edifies the Church. Through the intercession of the Apostles, today let us invoke the grace to love our Church. Let us ask for eyes that are able to see our brothers and sisters in her, a heart that knows how to welcome others with the tender love that Jesus has for us. And let us ask for the strength to pray for those who do not think as we do — this one thinks differently; I pray for him — pray and love, which is the opposite of gossiping, perhaps behind one’s back. Never speak ill of someone, pray and love. May Our Lady who brought harmony among the Apostles and prayed with them, (cf. Acts 1:14) keep us as brothers and sisters in the Church.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 29 June 2019]

Reputation and obedience: crossroads of the Truth of Faith

Mt 10:37-42 (34-42)

We ask ourselves: what prevents growth? What conversely makes us intimate with the Father?

To bear the Cross is to become "obedient" to one's personal Mission. Christ wants new and free people; not celebrities.

The apostle's identification is with the life of Jesus of Nazareth, the public rebel against official authorities, friend of publicans and sinners (Mt 11:19) condemned for lack of conformity.

Only by pushing down and meeting the same rejection, do we encounter God (v.40) in Freedom from all forms of conditioning.

The faithful is not recognized by heroic deeds (vv.41-42), or prestige - but in social choice.

It is an instinctive predilection for the lower class; the one that does not resist the Newness of God.

The missionary is not characterised by extraordinary qualities: he stands out in smallness (v.42).

Those who only appreciate great things do not build the new Kingdom, because underneath they cultivate the old ideology of power, that condemns only by proclamations.

A comparison of the parallel Greek-language texts of Mt 10:38 and Lk 14:27 (Jn 12:26) gives insight into the meaning of «taking up» or «lifting up the cross» for a disciple who relives Christ and communicates Him in human history.

The friend of Jesus stakes his honour. His source of life achieves total self-giving even in terms of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man was forced to carry the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most harrowing moment, because of utmost loneliness and perceived failure.

The unfortunate and already shamed man had to thus proceed to the place of crucifixion, passing between two wings of the crowd who, out of religious duty, mocked and battered the wretch - deemed cursed by God.

Therefore, to his intimates Jesus does not point to the Cross in the corny sense of a necessary endurance of life's inevitable contrarieties, which then through forced exercise would chisel out souls more capable of coping [today we say: resilient].

Compared to the usual proposals of healthy outer and inner discipline, which are the same for everyone and only useful to keep things as usual, the Master is instead suggesting a much more radical behaviour.

The Lord points to an asceticism totally different from that of the many ancient beliefs, even inverted: the paradoxical opportunity of contemptuous rejection in public opinion.

The Father does not give any 'cross', nor are we obliged to accept it out of obedience or force majeure: the disciple «takes it up» (v.38) in a non-passive manner, regardless of the credit he expects!

In short, the follower of Christ renounces reputation and any outward showcase of consensus.

It is an essential, propulsive, diriment cue of the person of Faith. Commitment to renown is totally incompatible; it does not spread life without limits.

He who is tied to his good reputation, to the roles, to the character to play, to the task, to the level he has acquired, will never resemble the Lord.

So even today, the announcement of the authentic Messiah creates divisions.

The «sword» of his Person (v.34) separates each one's affair from the world of values of the clan to which he belongs, or from the idea of respectability.

And it charges every apostle of the Cross with consequent mockery.

Yet the 'night' that is pressing in can make us live more daringly, prepared for action and dialogue.

So: no bond of domestication - not even with God.

[13th Sunday in O.T.  June 28, 2026]

Reputation and obedience: crossroads of the Truth of Faith

Mt 10:37-42 (34-42)

We ask ourselves: what prevents growth? What conversely makes one intimate with the Father?

Carrying the Cross... in the sense of being a devoted and submissive son... or... "obedient" to one's Mission?

Christ wants new and free people.

The identification of the apostle is not with celebrities and people of social or ascetic prominence, but with the life of Jesus of Nazareth, the public rebel against official authorities, the friend of publicans and sinners (Mt 11:19) condemned for lack of conformity.

Only by pushing down and encountering the same rejection, here - from the proponents of sacred values - do we encounter God (v.40) in Freedom from all forms of conditioning, religious, affective, mental.

The believer is not recognised for heroic and magnificent deeds (vv.41-42), excellence and visibility of office, charisma and credit, weight and prestige - but in social choice.

It is a matter of an instinctive predilection towards the lower rank on the scale, even ecclesial; that which does not resist the Newness of God.

The missionary is not characterised by extraordinary qualities: he stands out in smallness (v.42).

He who appreciates only great things does not build the new Kingdom, because underneath he cultivates the old ideology of power, which he condemns with proclamations.

A comparison of the parallel texts in the Greek language of Mt 10:38 and Lk 14:27 (Jn 12:26) gives insight into the meaning of "taking up" or "lifting up the cross" for a disciple who relives Christ and expands him into human history.

The friend of Jesus takes up the honour.

Immersed in his Source of Life, he achieves total self-giving - even in terms of public consideration.

After the court sentence, the condemned man was forced to carry the horizontal arm of the gallows on his shoulders.

It was the most harrowing moment, because it was one of utmost loneliness and perceived failure.

The wretched and already shamed man had to proceed to the place of crucifixion, passing between two wings of the crowd who, out of religious duty, mocked and battered the one deemed cursed by God.

Therefore, Jesus does not point out the Cross to his intimates in the corny sense of a necessary endurance of life's inevitable contrarieties, which then through forced exercise would chisel out souls more capable of coping [today we say: resilient].

Compared to the usual proposals of healthy exterior and interior discipline, the same for all and useful only to keep the situation (of other people's privilege) at bay, the Master is on the contrary suggesting a much more radical behaviour.

The Lord points to an asceticism totally different from that of the many ancient beliefs, even inverted: the paradoxical appropriateness of chastisement and scourge [deviance of the God of religions] and the contemptuous rejection of public opinion.

The Father does not give any 'cross', nor are we obliged to accept it out of obedience or force majeure: the disciple 'takes it up' (v.38) in a non-passive manner, regardless of the credit he expects!

In short, the follower of Christ very often has to renounce reputation and every outward showcase of consent - even devout and in itself appropriate [such as that of teachers, countrymen and family members].

It is an essential, propulsive and diriment cue of the person of Faith. The striving for prestigious renown - kept to oneself - is totally incompatible, it spreads life without limit (not even for oneself).

He who is tied to his good name, to the roles, to the character to be played, to the task, to the level he has acquired, will never resemble the Lord - and neither will he who does not dilute the tribal dimension of 'kinship' interest.

From the earliest times, the proclamation of the authentic Messiah created divisions: the "sword" of his Person (v.34) separated each person's affair from the world of values of the clan to which he belonged, or from the idea of respectability, even national respectability.

Today, the same thing happens where someone proclaims the Gospel as it is, and attempts to renew the jammed mechanisms of the fashionable Church, or of the habitual, outdated, hypocritical, faux-blue-blood Church in the territory. Charging itself with the cross of consequent mockery.

A very clear separation and cut, for the new unity: that which is the crossroads of Truth without duplicity.

We don't realise it, but milestones and intermediate stages absorbed through the influence of civilisation from outside are not really ours - despite the fact that this epidermal 'second brain' tends to invade our being.

Conformity on the side seems a refuge that attracts, but becomes only a den of flattery.

According to Chinese thought, in order to gain polish and escape a polluted and worn-out servility, the saints 'are taught by beasts the art of avoiding the harmful effects of domestication, which life in society imposes'.

Indeed: 'Domesticated animals die prematurely. And so do men, whom social conventions forbid to obey spontaneously the rhythm of universal life'.

"These conventions impose continuous, self-interested, exhausting activity [whereas it is appropriate] to alternate between periods of slow life and jubilation".

"The saint does not submit himself to retreat or fasting except in order to achieve, through ecstasy, to escape for long journeys. This liberation is prepared by life-giving games, which nature teaches".

"One trains oneself for the paradisiacal life by imitating the amusements of animals. In order to sanctify oneself, one must first brutalise oneself - meaning: learn from children, from beasts, from plants, the simple and joyful art of living only in view of life' [M. Granet, The Chinese Thought, Adelphi 2019, kindle pp. 6904-6909].

The suggestion of the past to perpetuate, the lace of narrow or glamorous judgements, and club ties, can rob us of hidden wealth, stealing the present and the future: this is the real mistake to avoid!

What matters is not to be cool or to copy the ancients, and to identify ourselves in order to be quiet and not make mistakes, but to renew ourselves in order to evolve, to grow, to expand, to amaze in a personal way. 

Otherwise our awkward problems will always be the same - and there will be no exuberant Path nor Promised Land, but only a vicious circle of fantasies or regrets, and fake reassurances.

To live the Faith of the real moment - an adventure that does not give up and puts things in line - one cannot be a repeating schoolboy of the place, the time, or the day before.

If we are forced to remove or hide our authentic emotions from the homologising opinions of the 'best', we will vainly resemble them - dissipating the richness of the Vocation.

When the expert instead of helping to broaden the view imposes no character changes, the person does not regain his or her simplicity.

And life [even that spent most nobly, in the gift of self] sooner or later becomes a nightmare.

Enough of managers pretending to intervene with their conformisms and 'adequate' or inadequate lifestyles!

Managers not infrequently place under an asphyxiating cloak of manner, the very path that is ours according to nature.

Earthly Faith: Our life is not played out on the initiative of what we are already able to set up and practise - or interpret, design and predict - but on Attention.

Here the dimension 'Gospel discernment' takes over from the clichés of ideas and doing.

The illusion of feeling in the light instead of in the underworld - or vice versa - jams the unseen mechanisms, absorbs the being that we are, its eye and the high (non-brain) reflexivity of our consciousness.

The obtuse gaze under the influence of official approval [or easy success at court and in society] clutters one's own and others' essence with epidermal clichés, dependent impulses, which are the true impurity of life.

Thus the conventional person finds himself unable to produce fundamental changes, the more real the less immediately apparent.

Disorders enlightened by deep nature, on the other hand, have much to teach.

Personal and sibling issues do not come to us in order to be hastily placed under the cloak of a qualitative evaluation, but rather to make us a proposition of new visions that could make us more independent - only so intimate with the Lord.

The soul calls to oneness and the One, to diversity and Conviviality - in a radical relationship of interest between giver and receiver.

The 'night' that presses in can make us live more boldly, prepared for action and Dialogue.

So: no domestication ties - not even with God.

To internalise and live the message:

What changes do you feel as your Calling?

Does the reputation and opinion of others in the community favour or block you? For what reason?

Is your 'family' closed in on itself or does it motivate openness of horizon?

On what is martyrdom founded? The answer is simple: on the death of Jesus, on his supreme sacrifice of love, consummated on the Cross, that we might have life (cf. Jn 10: 10). Christ is the suffering servant mentioned by the Prophet Isaiah (cf. Is 52: 13-15), who gave himself as a ransom for many (cf. Mt 20: 28). He urges his disciples, each one of us, to take up his or her cross every day and follow him on the path of total love of God the Father and of humanity: "he who does not take his cross and follow me", he tells us, "is not worthy of me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it" (Mt 10: 38-39). It is the logic of the grain of wheat that dies in order to sprout and bring new life (cf. Jn 12: 24). Jesus himself "is the grain of wheat which came from God, the divine grain that lets itself fall to the ground, that lets itself sink, be broken down in death and precisely by so doing germinates and can thus bear fruit in the immensity of the world" (Benedict XVI during his Visit to the Evangelical Lutheran Community at the "Christuskirche", Rome, 14 March 2010). The martyr follows the Lord to the very end, freely accepting death for the salvation of the world in a supreme test of love and faith (cf. Lumen Gentium, n. 42). 

Once again, where does the strength to face martyrdom come from? From deep and intimate union with Christ, because martyrdom and the vocation to martyrdom are not the result of human effort but the response to a project and call of God, they are a gift of his grace that enables a person, out of love, to give his life for Christ and for the Church, hence for the world. If we read the lives of the Martyrs we are amazed at their calmness and courage in confronting suffering and death: God's power is fully expressed in weakness, in the poverty of those who entrust themselves to him and place their hope in him alone (cf. 2 Cor 12: 9). Yet it is important to stress that God's grace does not suppress or suffocate the freedom of those who face martyrdom; on the contrary it enriches and exalts them: the Martyr is an exceedingly free person, free as regards power, as regards the world; a free person who in a single, definitive act gives God his whole life, and in a supreme act of faith, hope and charity, abandons himself into the hands of his Creator and Redeemer; he gives up his life in order to be associated totally with the Sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. In a word, martyrdom is a great act of love in response to God's immense love. 

Dear brothers and sisters […] we are probably not called to martyrdom, but not one of us is excluded from the divine call to holiness, to attain the high standard of Christian living, and this entails taking up our daily cross. All of us, especially in our time when selfishness and individualism seem to prevail, must take on as a first and fundamental commitment the duty to grow every day in greater love for God and for our brothers and sisters, to transform our own lives and thereby transform the life of our world too. Through the intercession of the Saints and Martyrs let us ask the Lord to set our hearts on fire so that we may be able to love as he has loved each one of us.

[Pope Benedict, General Audience, 11 August 2010]

1. In our examination of the Gospel signs that reveal Christ’s awareness of his divinity, we emphasised in the previous catechesis his request to his disciples to have faith in him: ‘Believe in God; believe also in me’ (Jn 14:1) – a request that only God can make. Jesus demands this faith when he manifests a divine power that surpasses all the forces of nature, for example in the raising of Lazarus (cf. Jn 11:38–44); he also demands it in times of trial, such as faith in the saving power of his cross, as he declares as early as his conversation with Nicodemus (cf. Jn 3:14–15); and it is faith in his divinity: ‘Whoever has seen me has seen the Father’ (Jn 14:9).
Faith refers to an invisible reality, which is beyond the senses and experience, and transcends the limits of human reason itself (“argumentum non apparentium”; “the evidence of things not seen” (cf. Heb 11:1); it refers, as Saint Paul says, to “things which no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man”, but which God has prepared for those who love him (cf. 1 Cor 2:9). Jesus demands such faith when, on the day before his death on the cross—a death that was, from a human perspective, ignominious—he tells the apostles that he is going to prepare a place for them in the Father’s house (cf. Jn 14:2).
2. These mysterious things, this invisible reality, are identified with the infinite Good of God, eternal Love, supremely worthy of being loved above all else. Therefore, together with the call to faith, Jesus sets forth the commandment to love God ‘above all else’—a commandment already present in the Old Testament, but repeated and reinforced by Jesus in a new light. It is true that when answering the question ‘Which is the greatest commandment of the Law?’, Jesus quotes the words of the Mosaic Law: ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind’ (Mt 22:37; cf. Dt 6:5). But the full meaning that the commandment takes on in Jesus’ words emerges from reference to other elements of the context in which he moves and teaches. Undoubtedly, he wishes to impress upon us that only God can and must be loved above all creation; and only in relation to God can there be, in human beings, the requirement for a love that surpasses all else. Only God, by virtue of this demand for radical and total love, can call man to ‘follow him’ without reservation, without limitation, in an indivisible way, as we already read in the Old Testament: ‘You shall follow the Lord your God, keep his commands, serve him and remain faithful to him’ (Deut 13:5). Indeed, only God ‘is good’ in the absolute sense (cf. Mk 10:18; also Mt 19:17). Only he ‘is love’ (1 Jn 4:16) by essence and by definition. But here is an element that appears new and surprising in the life and teaching of Christ.
3. Jesus calls people to follow him personally. This call lies, one might say, at the very heart of the Gospel. On the one hand, Jesus issues this call; on the other, we hear the evangelists speak of men who follow him, and indeed, of some of them who leave everything to follow him.
Let us consider all those calls of which the evangelists have told us: “One of the disciples said to him, ‘Lord, let me first go and bury my father.’ But Jesus replied, ‘Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead’” (Mt 8:21–22): a drastic way of saying, ‘Leave everything behind, immediately, for my sake.’ So it stands in Matthew’s account. Luke adds the apostolic connotation to this calling: “Go and proclaim the kingdom of God” (Lk 9:60). On another occasion, passing by the tax office, he said—and almost commanded—Matthew, who bears witness to the event: “Follow me.” And he got up and followed him (Mt 9:9; cf. Mk 2:13–14).
Following Jesus often means not only leaving one’s occupations behind and severing worldly ties, but also detaching oneself from one’s comfortable circumstances, and indeed giving one’s possessions to the poor. Not everyone feels able to make such a radical break: the rich young man did not feel up to it, even though he had observed the Law since childhood and had perhaps earnestly sought a path to perfection. But ‘on hearing this (that is, Jesus’ invitation), he went away sad, for he had great wealth’ (Mt 19:22; cf. Mk 10:22). Others, however, not only accept that ‘Follow me’, but, like Philip of Bethsaida, feel the need to share with others their conviction that they have found the Messiah (Jn 1:43ff.). Simon himself is told right from their first meeting: ‘You shall be called Cephas (which means Peter)’ (Jn 1:42). The evangelist John notes that Jesus “looked intently at him”: in that intense gaze lay the most powerful and compelling “Follow me” ever. But it seems that Jesus, given Peter’s very special calling (and perhaps also his natural temperament), wished to allow his ability to assess and accept that invitation to mature gradually. For Peter, the literal “Follow me” would in fact come after the washing of the feet at the Last Supper (cf. John 13:36), and then, definitively, after the Resurrection, on the shore of Lake Tiberias (John 21:19).
4. Undoubtedly, Peter and the other apostles – with the exception of Judas – understood and accepted the call to follow Jesus as a total self-giving of themselves and their possessions to the cause of proclaiming the Kingdom of God. They themselves would remind Jesus, through Peter: ‘See, we have left everything and followed you’ (Mt 19:27). Luke elaborates: ‘all our possessions’ (Luke 18:28). And Jesus himself seems to wish to clarify exactly which ‘possessions’ are meant when he replies to Peter: ‘Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left home, or wife, or brothers, or parents, or children for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this present age and eternal life in the age to come’ (Luke 18:29–30).
In Matthew (Matthew 19:29), the text also specifies the forsaking of sisters, mother and fields ‘for my sake’; whoever does so, Jesus promises, ‘will receive a hundredfold and inherit eternal life’.
In Mark, there is a further clarification regarding the forsaking of all these things ‘for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel’ and concerning the reward: ‘Even now a hundredfold—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields—along with persecutions, and in the age to come, eternal life’ (Mk 10:29–30).
Without worrying for the moment about the figurative language used by Jesus, we ask ourselves: Who is this man who calls people to follow him and promises those who do so so many rewards and even ‘eternal life’? Can a mere Son of Man promise so much, and be believed and followed, and exert such a hold not only over those happy disciples, but over thousands and millions of people throughout the ages?
5. In reality, those disciples remembered well the authority with which Jesus had called them to follow him, not hesitating to demand of them a radical commitment, expressed in terms that might have seemed paradoxical, such as when he said he had come to bring ‘not peace but a sword’—that is, to create separations and divisions even within families in order to follow him—and then declared: “Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Mt 10:37–38). Luke’s wording is even more forceful and almost harsh: “If anyone comes to me and does not hate (in Jewish terms: does not detach themselves from) their father, mother, wife, children, brothers, sisters and even their own life, they cannot be my disciple” (Lk 14:26).
Faced with these words of Jesus, one cannot help but reflect on the loftiness and arduousness of the Christian vocation. Undoubtedly, the concrete forms of following Christ are graded by him according to the circumstances, possibilities, missions and charisms of individuals and social groups. Jesus’ words, as he himself says, are ‘spirit and life’ (cf. Jn 6:63), and one cannot expect them to be realised in exactly the same way for everyone. Yet, according to St Thomas Aquinas, the Gospel’s call to heroic self-denial—such as the evangelical counsels of poverty, chastity and self-denial in order to follow Jesus—and the same may be said of the self-offering of one’s life through martyrdom rather than betraying the faith and the following of Christ—commits everyone ‘secundum praeparationem animi’ (cf. S. Thomae, *Summa Theologiae*; II-II, q. 184, a. 7, ad 1), that is, in terms of the spirit’s readiness to fulfil what is required should one be called to do so; and therefore they entail for everyone a lesser degree of detachment, a spirit of self-offering, a self-surrender to Christ, without which there is no true evangelical spirit.
6. The Gospel itself shows that there are particular vocations, dependent on a choice made by Christ: such as that of the apostles and of many disciples, indicated quite clearly by Mark when he writes: “He went up the mountain, called to him those whom he wished, and they came to him. He appointed twelve to be with him . . .” (Mk 3:13–14). Jesus himself, according to John, says to the apostles in his final discourse: ‘You did not choose me, but I chose you . . .’ (Jn 15:16).
There is no indication that he definitively condemned those who did not agree to follow him on a path of total dedication to the cause of the Gospel (cf. the case of the rich young man) (Mk 10:17–27). There is something more that calls upon the free generosity of the individual. It is certain, however, that the vocation to faith and Christian love is universal and binding: faith in the word of Jesus, love for God above all else and for one’s neighbour as oneself, not least because ‘whoever . . . does not love their brother whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen’ (1 John 4:20).
7. In setting out the requirement to respond to the call to follow him, Jesus makes no secret of the fact that following him entails sacrifice, at times even the supreme sacrifice. Indeed, he says to his disciples: ‘If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it . . .’ (Mt 16:24–25).
Mark emphasises that, along with his disciples, Jesus had also gathered the crowd, and to all of them he spoke of the self-denial required of those who wish to follow him, of taking up the cross and of the loss of life ‘for my sake and for the sake of the Gospel’ (Mk 8:34–35). And he did this after speaking of his impending passion and death! (cf. Mk 8:31–32).
8. At the same time, however, Jesus proclaims the blessedness of those who are persecuted ‘for the sake of the Son of Man’ (Lk 6:22): ‘Rejoice and be glad, for your reward in heaven is great’ (Mt 5:12).
And once again we ask ourselves: Who is this man who authoritatively calls us to follow him, foretells hatred, insults and persecutions of every kind (cf. Lk 6:22), and promises a ‘reward in heaven’? Only a Son of Man who was conscious of being the Son of God could speak in this way. This is how the apostles and disciples understood him, and they passed on his revelation and his message to us. This is how we too wish to understand him, echoing the words of the apostle Thomas: ‘My Lord and my God’.
[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 28 October 1987]

This Sunday, the Gospel (cf. Mt 10:37-42) forcefully echoes the invitation to live out our bond with the Lord fully and without hesitation. Jesus asks his disciples to take the demands of the Gospel seriously, even when that requires sacrifice and effort.

The first demanding request that he addresses to those who follow him is that of putting love for him above family affection. He says: “He who loves father or mother… son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” (v. 37). Jesus certainly does not intend to undervalue love for parents and children, but he knows that if family bonds are put in first place, they can deviate from the true good. We see this: some forms of corruption in governments come about precisely because love for family is greater than love for country, and so they put family members in charge. It is the same with Jesus: when love [for family] is greater than [it is] for him, it is not good. All of us can give many examples in this regard, not to mention those situations in which family affections are intermingled with choices that are contrary to the Gospel. When, instead, love for parents and children is inspired and purified by love for the Lord, it then becomes wholly fruitful and produces good fruits within the family itself and well beyond it. Jesus says this phrase in this sense. Let us also remember how Jesus rebukes the doctors of the law who cause their parents to lack what is necessary to them on the pretext of offering it at the altar, of giving it to the Church (cf. Mk 7:8-13). He rebukes them! True love for Jesus requires a true love for parents and children, but if we seek out family interests first, this always leads to the wrong path.

Then, Jesus says to his disciples: “he who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Mt 10:38). This means following him along the path that he himself trod, without looking for shortcuts. There is no true love without the cross, that is, without a personal price to pay. Many mothers, many fathers who sacrifice a great deal for their children, and bear true sacrifices, crosses, because they love them, say this. And the cross is not frightening when borne with Jesus, because he is always at our side to support us in the hour of the most difficult trial, to give us strength and courage. Nor is it helpful to get agitated to preserve one’s own life through fearful or egotistical behaviour. Jesus admonishes: “He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake” — that is, for love, for love of Jesus, love for one’s neighbour, for service towards others — “will find it” (v. 39). This is the Gospel paradox. But we have many, many examples of this too, thank God! We see it in these days. How many people, how many people, are bearing crosses to help others; they sacrifice themselves to help others who are in need in this pandemic. But, always with Jesus, it can be done. The fullness of life and of joy is found by giving oneself for the Gospel and for our brothers and sisters, with openness, welcoming and goodness.

In so doing, we can experience God’s generosity and gratitude. Jesus reminds us of this: “He who receives you receives me… And whoever gives to one of these little ones even a cup of cold water… shall not lose his reward” (vv. 40, 42). God’s generous gratitude takes into account even the smallest gesture of love and service given to our brothers and sisters. In these days, I heard from a priest who was moved because a child approached him in his parish and said, “Father, this is my savings; not very much. It is for the poor, for those who are in need today because of the pandemic”. A small thing, but a great thing. It is a contagious gratitude, which helps each of us to be grateful to those who take care of our needs. When someone offers us a service, we should not think that we deserve everything. No, many services are carried out freely. Think of volunteer work, which is one of the greatest things about Italian society. The volunteers… And how many of them have lost their lives in this pandemic. They do it out of love, simply to serve. Gratitude, appreciation is, first of all, good manners, but it is also a characteristic of a Christian. It is a simple but genuine sign of the Kingdom of God, which is the kingdom of gratuitous and grateful love.

May Mary Most Holy, who loved Jesus more than her own life and followed him even to the cross, help us to always put ourselves before God with willing hearts, allowing his Word to judge our behaviour and our choices.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 28 June 2020]