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]

Word and Faith: God is not bound to an external expression

(Mt 8:5-17)

Mt writes his Gospel to encourage community members and stimulate the mission to the Gentiles, which the Jewish Christians were not yet ready to make their own.

The incipient Faith of a converted pagan is the example that Jesus sets before that of the observant Israelites.

But to say Faith (vv.10.13) means to advocate a deeper adhesion, and [together] a less strong manifestation.

What heals is believing in the efficacy of his only Word (vv.8-9.16), an event that possesses generative and re-creative power.

In the Judaizing communities of Galilee and Syria, still in the mid-70s one wondered: does the new Law of God proclaimed on ‘the Mount’ of Beatitudes creates exclusions?

Or does it correspond to the hopes and deep sensitivity of the human heart, of every place and time (vv.10-12)?

The distant possessed a strong insight into the novelties of the Spirit, and discovered the experience of Faith from other positions - not installed, less linked to conformal concatenations; perhaps uncomfortable.

Not infrequently they were just the latest arrivals who stood out for their freshness of substantial intuition - and saw clearly.

It was enough to communicate one-one with the Lord, in a sense of sure friendship (v.6).

There is no need for who knows what additions to this secret, to be reborn. God is Immediate Action (v.7).

The personal relationship between the common man and the Father in Christ is sober and instantaneous.

Starting from his simple experience, the centurion understands the "remote" value of the Word and the magnet-effect of the true Faith [which does not claim "contacts" or material and local elements: vv.8-9].

In short, cultural and religious conformism remained a burden.

Here and there were missing both the experience of personal Christ the Saviour, and the complete discovery of full Life’s power contained in the new total and ‘creative’ proposal of «the Mount».

But there is nothing to fear: God has preceded us; the different and far away is not a stranger, but brother.

Therefore, what saves is not belonging to a tradition or new fashion of thought and worship.

Not demanding that the Lord arrives in a certain form means not imagining Him tied to an external expression.

We can achieve and grasp Him only intimately, for certain vision - uncluttered with indispensable imagined beliefs - no matter what happens.

He will be revealed time by time in the way best suited to our limits.

In short, those distant from us are totally «worthy» people, although sometimes wavering - like everyone else.

God is in their flesh and in their hearth.

And in Christ we are educated to dilate the horizon of external vertical relations, typical of a lowered head religiosity.

The divine Face is already within the things of our environment, and in persons that Providence puts next to us - even across borders.

[Saturday 12.th wk. in O.T.  June 27, 2026]

Discovering that we are worthy and Jesus’ feminine touch

(Mt 8:5–17)

‘The essential thing is to listen to what rises up from within. Our actions are often nothing more than imitation, a hypothetical duty or a mistaken representation of what it means to be human. But the only true certainty that touches our lives and our actions can come only from the springs that gush forth from the depths of our being.
One is at home under the sky; one is at home anywhere on this earth if one carries everything within oneself.
I have often felt, and still feel, like a ship that has taken on board a precious cargo:
the ropes are cut and now the ship sails on, free to navigate everywhere’.

[Etty Hillesum, Diary]

    The Tao Te Ching (LIII) says: ‘The Great Way is very level, but people prefer the paths’.

Commenting on this passage, the masters Wang Pi and Ho-shang Kung emphasise: ‘winding paths’.

The fledgling faith of a converted pagan is the example that Jesus holds up above that of the observant Israelites.

What heals is believing in the efficacy of his Word alone (vv. 8–9, 16), an event that possesses generative and recreative power.

The Lord shows compassion, usually by touching the sick or laying his hands on them, as if to absorb what was imagined to be impurity, a deviation from normality [a ‘fever’ or paralysis that was believed to render the person in need unworthy in God’s eyes].

In the Judaising communities of Galilee and Syria, as late as the mid-70s, people were still asking: does God’s new Law, proclaimed on ‘the Mount’ of the Beatitudes, create exclusions?

Or does it correspond to the hopes and the deep sensibilities of the human heart, in every place and time (vv. 10–12)?

Those on the margins possessed a keen intuition for the new things of the Spirit, and discovered the lived experience of faith from different perspectives – unestablished, less bound by conformist conventions; perhaps even uncomfortable ones.

It was not uncommon for the newcomers themselves to stand out for the freshness of their fundamental insight – and to see things clearly.

All that was needed was to communicate face to face with the Lord, in a spirit of assured friendship (v. 6).

There is no need for any great additions to this secret in order to be reborn. God is immediate Action (v. 7).

The personal relationship between the ordinary person and the Father in Christ is unadorned and instantaneous.

Drawing on his own simple experience, the centurion grasps the ‘remote’ value of the Word and the magnetic pull of true Faith [which does not require ‘contacts’ or material and local elements: vv. 8–9].

In short, cultural heritage and ancient religious conformism remained a burden.

Here and there, there was a lack of both the experience of Christ as one’s personal Saviour and the full realisation of the power of life contained in the new, all-encompassing and creative proposal of ‘the Mount’.

Matthew writes his Gospel to encourage members of the community and to spur on the mission to the Gentiles, which the Jewish Christians were not yet ready to embrace.

But to speak of ‘Faith’ (vv. 10, 13) means to advocate a deeper commitment, and [at the same time] a less overt expression.

The expression of personal Faith is not to repeat or water down a learned doctrine, nor the convictions of others.

There is no need to fear: God has gone before us; the one who is different and far away is not a stranger, but a brother.

Therefore, what saves is not belonging to a tradition or a way of thinking and worship.

Not demanding that the Lord appear in a certain form means not imagining him bound to an external expression.

He is reached and grasped only intimately, through certain vision – free from imagined convictions deemed indispensable – whatever may happen.

He will reveal himself each time in the way best suited to our limitations.

Those who are distant from us are creatures who are wholly ‘worthy’, though at times wavering and fallible.

They are not self-sufficient, nor are they sufficient, like everyone else – simply because they do not realise that God is in their very flesh and in their own homes.

Thanks to this clear awareness in the Son, they can finally comprehend the Father’s supreme Love, which is freely given and without reserve; a Love that astounds, helps them overcome their awkwardness and propels them forward.

The pagan is conditioned by his hierarchical world, but upon encountering Christ he discovers himself to be a fully adequate and fulfilled person.

Not because he has earned or granted favours to the chosen people, or fulfilled a special kind of observance (by reciting formulas with an imprimatur).

In the Lord, he himself is taught to broaden the horizons of conventional religion – which consists of external, vertical relationships.

Although he recognises his own shortcomings [v.8 Greek text], he senses that his relationship with God does not depend on an exchange of favours.

Such an immediate and spontaneous personal friendship is not subordinate to works of the law, nor does it spring from fulfilled rules of purity.

Nor is it subject to a religious relationship in which one bows one’s head.

The ‘distant one’ embraces love. In this way, he is already liberated from a superficial, shallow, commonplace mindset.

In the Lord, he himself is taught to broaden the horizons of conventional religion.

He believes, in fact, that the Word of the Lord – as the Way, beyond synchronised or predetermined places and times – brings about what it proclaims.

And that it brings this about even from a distance; without even sensational or peremptory signs that cause a commotion.

Rather, by liberating the mysterious Energy [still imprisoned] of the ‘Logos’ (v.7).

An unconventional Word, which does not spin idly.

This is so, despite the fact that this Power may be found mingled with convictions that are at times contradictory:

He is already far removed from a magical and carnal mindset.

But he must still take the decisive step that will enable him to grow beyond this – and this concerns us closely.

Self-esteem must be the attitude of even the most distant children, at all costs.

Not out of some vague or emotional inner feeling, but because of a Presence that is guaranteed regardless – indeed, already at work, though sometimes unconsciously so.

Internalising this will be the work – and the ‘something more’ – of mature Faith, which sees, grasps and penetrates the preparatory energies at work.

And it actualises them, anticipating the future.

‘I am not worthy’ is, along with ‘Have mercy on me’ or ‘Son of David’, one of the most unfortunate expressions of spiritual and missionary life.

These are phrases that Jesus abhors, even though they have become commonplace in certain liturgical expressions.

The prodigal son tries, with the very same rambling expression [‘I am no longer worthy’], to move the Father, who precisely does not allow him to finish this absurd tirade.

Rather, He prevents him from considering himself ‘one of his servants’ and kneeling before Him [Lk 15:21ff].

This would truly be the only danger that jeopardises one’s entire life; not merely a small part of one’s existence.

Through faith in Christ, from being incomplete we become not only most worthy, but we are thus, here and now, perfect to fulfil our vocation.

Of course, some ideologue or purist might consider us old-fashioned, or even still clinging to pagan ways.

Our great and only risk is precisely that of absorbing such oppressive opinions from our surroundings and allowing ourselves to be influenced by them.

It is not uncommon for every social context to operate according to the logic of hierarchies and power relations, whereby, for example, the subordinate should not consider themselves on the same level as their superior.

But at this rate, we can no longer perceive the divine Presence.

The Face of the Eternal One is within us and in our home; not in a chain of command with conditioning influences, but in our surroundings and in those who stand by us – even beyond our borders.

Family, friends, loved ones and others are all on the same level. The same applies to God: we are face to face.

Nor does the ‘I and You’ framework with the Son matter any more: for – having become incarnate in a universal sense – He has planted His Heaven, as well as His very healing power [even that of self-healing], ‘within’ us.

Thanks to the Master, we are no longer within an ideology of submission – identical to that which prevailed in the empire – nor in a well-disciplined barracks, with distinct roles and confined spheres.

The structure of external propriety has no place in the Gospels.

In short, the Father no longer asks anyone to obey ‘authorities’, but rather to ‘resemble’ Him.

This is achieved simply by each of us responding to this sort of higher Presence that dwells within us and loves us.

It is the end of empty formalities: we are intimate and of the same blood as our own hidden Self, the supreme Face.

There is absolutely no need to ‘implore’ God (v.5) as if we were ‘subordinates’ (v.9).

Our task is to cultivate and acquire a new ‘eye’, not to submit to organisational hierarchies.

The reborn gaze intuitively perceives other virtues – it is not subject to classifications incapable of immediate fruitfulness.

Enough of these feelings of inadequacy!

They end up drawing us into cloisters and spire-like dynamics (v.9) typical of any stagnant feudalism.

A quagmire that annihilates the new power of love – rendering structures chronic.

Configurations set in stone by too many tedious chains of command and local monarchies [as we see, for example, in the provinces].

In the natural listening to oneself and to events, genuine esteem and divine gratuitousness guide us, wave upon wave, towards a new way of living and exchanging gifts.

An arduous path for those bound by habit; for the obviousness that does not shift one’s thoughts, and does not perceive.

A path inaccessible to those who act out of duty – an enigmatic, opaque, insidious and highly ‘tortuous’ path.

To internalise and live out the message:

How do you understand and nurture the certain and free Coming of Jesus into your home?

Catholic

    The Church is Catholic because Christ embraces all humanity in his mission of salvation. Whilst Jesus’ mission during his earthly life was limited to the Jewish people, ‘the lost sheep of the house of Israel’ (Mt 15:24), it was nevertheless directed from the outset towards bringing the light of the Gospel to all peoples and bringing all nations into the Kingdom of God. Faced with the faith of the centurion in Capernaum, Jesus exclaims: ‘I tell you that many will come from the east and the west and will take their places at the feast with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven’ (Mt 8:11). This universalist perspective emerges, amongst other things, from Jesus’ presentation of himself not only as the ‘Son of David’, but as the ‘Son of Man’ (Mk 10:33), as we have also heard in the Gospel passage just proclaimed. The title ‘Son of Man’, in the language of Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history in the Book of the Prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13–14), evokes the figure who comes ‘on the clouds of heaven’ (v. 13); it is an image that heralds an entirely new kingdom, a kingdom sustained not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God. Jesus makes use of this rich and complex expression and applies it to Himself to reveal the true nature of His messianism: a mission intended for all of humanity and for every individual, transcending all ethnic, national and religious particularism. And it is precisely by following Jesus, by allowing ourselves to be drawn into his humanity and thus into communion with God, that we enter this new kingdom, which the Church proclaims and anticipates, and which overcomes fragmentation and dispersion.

[Pope Benedict, address at the Consistory, 24 November 2012]

The Power of the Word and the Creativity

of Jesus’ Healing Touch (in the feminine form)

    In the Judaising communities of Galilee and Syria, as late as the mid-70s, people were still asking: does God’s new Law, proclaimed on ‘the Mount’ of the Beatitudes, create exclusions? Or does it correspond to the hopes and the deep sensibilities of the human heart, in every place and time (vv. 10–12)?

The pagans possessed a keen intuition for the newness of the Spirit, and discovered the lived experience of Faith from different perspectives (unconventional, less bound by established conventions; perhaps even uncomfortable).

It was not uncommon for the newcomers themselves to possess the freshness of a fundamental intuition, and to see things clearly. This was in contrast to the veterans – more attached to the leaves than to the seed – to whom they offered salutary jolts of unadulterated trust, wedded to the Newness of God.

Unlike those coming from habitual or markedly ethnic forms of religiosity (even from Israel), they had already realised that it was not necessary to explicitly ask for Christ’s intervention – as was done with the ancient gods (and according to customary thinking). 

It was enough to communicate face to face with the Lord, in a spirit of secure friendship (v.6) – not to urge him to perform a miracle: a fundamental realisation, so that even today we may set a new course in motion, and finally break free from the notion of a finely chiselled (and chosen) organic culture.

It is the Risen One who genuinely does what is right… and everything else: just as in Jesus – strengthened by the intimate experience of the Father in the Spirit – so too for us, Faith is enough, that is, the nuptial and fruitful trust in the Word, which is effective and inventive.

There is no need for any great additions to this secret in order to be reborn.

God is Immediate Action (v.7): he does not like to be ‘prayed to over and over again’ – as if he were just any sovereign who takes pleasure in forcing his subjects into deference (with a view to a consequent paternalism in relationships).

The relationship between the ordinary man and the Father in Christ is unadorned and instantaneous, without any form of mediation whatsoever: the work of Grace is in no way conditioned by acknowledgements and formulas, or ‘internal’ titles, or veteran status; nor by calculated bows, prior ‘bribes’, or bureaucratic procedures.

Drawing on his own simple experience, the centurion grasps the ‘remote’ value of the Word and the magnetic pull of true Faith (which does not require ‘contacts’ or material and local elements: vv. 8–9).

It is not like magic: the intimate sensitivity of the relationship of Faith conveys to the eye of the soul a Vision of a new genesis. Not doctrine, discipline, morality, ritual observances and so on.

It is a vision of the future (deeply existential) that does not serve to anticipate (v. 13) a self-serving outcome, useful only to the believer, or merely for the sake of nomenclature: it is for the promotion of life, everywhere.

This corresponds to the deepest longing of our hearts.

Indeed, another major innovation in the new Rabbi’s teaching – which was spreading – was the acceptance of women as what we would today call ‘deaconesses’ (cf. v. 15, Greek verb) of the Church, here in the figure of the House of Peter (v. 14).

This was what had been happening since the middle of the first century (cf. Rom 16:1) and still has much to teach us. With God, one cannot become accustomed to (multi-)centuries-old formalities that have been drained of life.

But religious traditions resisted the onslaught of the experience of Faith-Love: even in the mid-1970s, communities did not feel free to take in those in need of care until evening had fallen (v. 16).    

According to the parallel passage in Mark 1:21, 29–34 (the source of the passage in Matthew), it was in fact the Sabbath – and after leaving the synagogue. The same hindrance and delay are described in the episode of Mary Magdalene at the tomb on Easter morning.

Cultural heritage and sacred religious conformism remained a heavy burden on the experience of Christ the personal Saviour, and on the full discovery of the power of Life in its fullness contained in the new, all-encompassing and creative proposal of ‘the Mountain’.

The Tao writes (xxviii): ‘He who knows he is male, yet remains female, is the strength of the world; being the strength of the world, virtue never departs from him, and he returns to being a child. He who knows he is pure, yet remains obscure, is the model of the world; being the model of the world, virtue never strays from him; and he returns to the infinite. He who knows he is glorious, yet remains in ignominy, is the valley of the world; being the valley of the world, virtue always abides in him; and he returns to being unpolished [genuine, unartificial]. When that which is unpolished is cut, then it is made into tools; when the sage makes use of it, then he makes it the foremost among his ministers. ‘For this reason, the great government does no harm.’

And so Master Wang Pi comments: ‘Here, the masculine represents the category of the one who precedes, whilst the feminine represents the category of the one who follows. He who knows he is first in the world must place himself last: for this reason, the sage puts himself last, and yet he is placed first. A gorge amongst the mountains does not seek out creatures, yet they turn to it of their own accord. The child does not rely on wisdom, but adapts to the wisdom of spontaneity’.

In the apocryphal Gospel of Thomas, we read in verses 22–23:

‘Jesus saw some little ones drinking milk

And said to his disciples:

“These little ones who are drinking milk are like those

Who enter the Kingdom”.

They asked him:

‘If we are like those children, will we enter the Kingdom?’

Jesus replied to them:

‘When you make two things into one, and make

the inside the same as the outside, and the outside the same as the inside,

and the higher the same as the lower,

When you reduce the male and the female to a single being

So that the male is not merely male

And the female does not remain merely female,

When you regard two eyes as a single eye

But a hand as a single hand

And a foot as a single foot,

A vital function in place of a vital function

Then you will find the entrance to the Kingdom.”

‘Jesus said:

“I shall choose one out of a thousand and two out of ten thousand,

And these shall turn out to be a single individual.”’

This universalist perspective can be seen, among other things, from the way Jesus applied to himself not only the title “Son of David”, but also “Son of Man” (Mk 10:33), as in the Gospel passage that we have just heard.  The expression “Son of Man”, in the language of Jewish apocalyptic literature inspired by the vision of history found in the book of the prophet Daniel (cf. 7:13-14), calls to mind the figure who appears “with the clouds of heaven” (v. 13).  This is an image that prophesies a completely new kingdom, sustained not by human powers, but by the true power that comes from God.  Jesus takes up this rich and complex expression and refers it to himself in order to manifest the true character of his Messianism: a mission directed to the whole man and to every man, transcending all ethnic, national and religious particularities.  And it is actually by following Jesus, by allowing oneself to be drawn into his humanity and hence into communion with God, that one enters this new kingdom proclaimed and anticipated by the Church, a kingdom that conquers fragmentation and dispersal.

[Pope Benedict, Consistory, 24 November 2012]

1. Looking at the primary objective of the Jubilee, which is the "strengthening of faith and of the witness of Christians" (Tertio millennio adveniente, n. 42), after outlining in previous catecheses the basic characteristics of the salvation offered by Christ, today we pause to reflect on the faith he expects of us.

"The obedience of faith", Dei Verbum teaches, "must be given to God as he reveals himself" (n. 5). God revealed himself in the Old Covenant, asking of the people he had chosen a fundamental response of faith. In the fullness of time, this faith is called to be renewed and increased, to respond to the revelation of the incarnate Son of God. Jesus expressly asks for it when he speaks to his disciples at the Last Supper: "Believe in God, believe also in me" (Jn 14:1).

2. Jesus had already asked the group of the 12 Apostles to profess their faith in his person. At Caesarea Philippi, after questioning his disciples about the people's opinion of his identity, he asks: "But who do you say that I am?" (Mt16:15). The reply comes from Simon Peter: "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" (16:16).

Jesus immediately confirms the value of this profession of faith, stressing that it stems not only from human thought idea but from heavenly inspiration: "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). These statements, in strongly Semitic tones, indicate the total, absolute and supreme revelation: the one that concerns the person of Christ, Son of God.

Peter's profession of faith will remain the definitive expression of Christ's identity. Mark uses this same expression to begin his Gospel (cf. Mk 1:1) and John refers to it at the end of his, saying that he has written his Gospel so that you may believe "that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God", and that in believing you may have life in his name (cf. Jn20:31).

3. In what does faith consist? The Constitution Dei Verbum explains that by faith, "man freely commits his entire self to God, making 'the full submission of his intellect and will to God who reveals'" (n. 5). Thus faith is not only the intellect's adherence to the truth revealed, but also a submission of the will and a gift of self to God revealing himself. It is a stance that involves one's entire existence.

The Council also recalls that this faith requires "the grace of God to move [man] and assist him; he must have the interior helps of the Holy Spirit, who moves the heart and converts it to God, who opens the eyes of the mind and 'makes it easy for all to accept and believe the truth'" (ibid.). In this way we can see how, on the one hand, faith enables us to welcome the truth contained in Revelation and proposed by the Magisterium of those who, as Pastors of God's People, have received a "sure charism of truth" (Dei Verbum, n. 8). On the other hand, faith also spurs us to true and deep consistency, which must be expressed in all aspects of a life modeled on that of Christ.

4. As a fruit of grace, faith exercises an influence on events. This is wonderfully seen in the exemplary case of the Blessed Virgin. Her faith-filled acceptance of the angel's message at the Annunciation is decisive for Jesus' very coming into the world. Mary is the Mother of Christ because she first believed in him.

At the wedding feast in Cana, Mary, obtains the miracle through her faith. Despite Jesus' reply, which does not seem very favourable, she keeps her trustful attitude, thus becoming a model of the bold and constant faith which overcomes obstacles.

The faith of the Caananite woman was also bold and insistent. Jesus countered this woman, who had come to seek the cure of her daughter, with the Father's plan which restricted his mission to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. The Caananite replied with the full force of her faith and obtained the miracle: "O woman! Great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire" (Mt 15:28).

5. In many other cases the Gospel witnesses to the power of faith. Jesus expresses his admiration for the centurion's faith: "Truly, I say to you, not even in Israel have I found such faith" (Mt 8:10). And to Bartimaeus: "Go your way your faith has made you well" (Mk 10:52). He says the same thing to the woman with a haemorrhage (cf. Mk 5:34). 

His words to the father of the epileptic who wanted his son to be cured are no less striking: "All things are possible to him who believes" (Mk 9:23).

The role of faith is to co-operate with this omnipotence. Jesus asks for this co-operation to the point that upon returning to Nazareth, he works almost no miracles because the inhabitants of his village did not believe in him (cf. Mk 6:5-6). For Jesus, faith has a decisive importance for the purposes of salvation.

St Paul will develop Christ's teaching when, in conflict with those who wished to base the hope of salvation on observance of the Jewish law, he forcefully affirms that faith in Christ is the only source of salvation: "We hold that a man is justified by faith apart from works of law" (Rom 3:28). However, it must not be forgotten that St Paul was thinking of that authentic and full faith which "works through love" (Gal 5:6). True faith is animated by love of God, which is inseparable from love for our brothers and sisters.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 18 March 1998]

Let us allow Jesus to meet us ‘with our defences down, with open hearts’, so that he may renew us from the depths of our souls. This is Pope Francis’s invitation at the start of Advent. The Pontiff addressed these words to the faithful during Mass celebrated this morning, Monday 2 December, in the Chapel of Santa Marta.

The journey we are beginning in these days, he began, is ‘a new journey for the Church, a journey of the People of God, towards Christmas. And we are journeying to meet the Lord’. Christmas is, in fact, an encounter: not merely ‘a seasonal celebration or — as the Pontiff specified — a memory of something beautiful. Christmas is more than that. We are travelling this path to meet the Lord’. Thus, during Advent, ‘we journey to meet him. To meet him with our hearts, with our lives; to meet him as he truly is; to meet him with faith’.

In truth, it is not ‘easy to live by faith’, noted the Bishop of Rome. And he recalled the story of the centurion who, according to the account in the Gospel of Matthew (8:5–11), fell prostrate before Jesus to ask him to heal his servant. ‘The Lord, in the passage we have just heard,’ explained the Pope, ‘was amazed by this centurion. He was amazed by the faith he possessed. He had set out on a journey to meet the Lord. But he had done so with faith. That is why not only did he meet the Lord, but he also experienced the joy of being met by the Lord. And this is precisely the encounter we desire: the encounter of faith. To encounter the Lord, but to allow ourselves to be encountered by him. This is very important!’

When we limit ourselves merely to encountering the Lord, he pointed out, ‘we are — though let us put this in inverted commas — the “masters” of this encounter’. When, on the other hand, ‘we allow ourselves to be encountered by him, it is he who enters into us’ and renews us completely.

‘This,’ the Holy Father reiterated, ‘is what it means when Christ comes: to make everything new again, to renew the heart, the soul, life, hope and the journey.’

At this time of the liturgical year, therefore, we are on a journey to encounter the Lord, but also and above all ‘to allow ourselves to be encountered by him’. And we must do so with an open heart, “so that he may meet me, tell me what he wants to say to me—which is not always what I want him to say to me!” Let us not forget, then, that “he is the Lord and he will tell me what he has in store for me”, for each one of us, because “the Lord,” the Pontiff pointed out, “does not look at us all together, as a mass: no, no! He looks at us one by one, in the face, in the eyes, because love is not an abstract love but a concrete love. Person by person. The Lord, a person, looks at me, a person’. That is why allowing ourselves to be met by the Lord ultimately means ‘allowing ourselves to be loved by the Lord’.

‘In the prayer at the beginning of Mass,’ the Pope recalled, ‘we asked for the grace to undertake this journey with certain attitudes that will help us. Perseverance in prayer: to pray more. Diligence in fraternal charity: to draw a little closer to those in need. And joy in praising the Lord.’ So “let us begin this journey with prayer, charity and praise, with open hearts, so that the Lord may meet us”. But, the Pope asked in conclusion, “please, let him meet us with our defences down, open to him!”

[Pope Francis, homily at Santa Marta, in L’Osservatore Romano, 3 December 2013]

                                                                                                                                                         The ham.

The Treccani dictionary defines ‘ham’ as: ‘one who acts in theatrical performances’. In common parlance and in a figurative sense: ‘someone who adopts exaggeratedly theatrical behaviour in life; someone who puts on a show in a blatant and undignified manner’.

Many years ago, when I was still a teenager, Charles Aznavour released a beautiful song containing these words: ‘I am a ham. But genius was born with me […] but theatricality flows within me’.

A song which, if I’m not mistaken, was later covered by Massimo Ranieri some time later.

Perhaps those of us who are a bit older will also remember the original version.

A few days ago, I bumped into a young man with a VIP-like air about him, whom I’ve known since he was born.

He stopped, greeted me warmly and began telling me about his life, his work in the world of politics and his travels.

He said that one of his goals is to visit the wonders of the world and that he’d just returned from one such destination. He solemnly declared that he’d already visited several of them.

All this without me having asked anything, partly because he didn’t give me the chance. 

He was too caught up in his soliloquy and I was merely a spectator.

At the end of his speech, he tells me that he has completed dental treatment for a tooth that had been causing him a great deal of trouble and that he is still in pain […] he lists the medicines he is taking. Then he looks at me and ironically reiterates that when doctors encounter difficulties in their work, they always say it’s down to the mind.

And here came a thunderous laugh, coupled with all the ‘pathos’ with which he’d woven his narrative.

The only thing missing was the final round of applause, which didn’t come. Just a cordial ‘goodbye’.                                                                          My professional bias kicked in as I reflected on what had happened.

There are people who, rather than simply connecting with others, need to put on a show and seek the approval of others.   

This is something we all do to a certain extent, within acceptable limits, and it gives us pleasure. Such people sometimes go in search of an ‘audience’ where they can express and display their feelings and experiences, without worrying about building a relationship or a genuine connection – and once they have communicated their emotions, they leave quickly, often in search of another ‘audience’. 

They must always be the centre of attention and often express their emotions in a  theatrical manner. Everything they achieve is something grand; all their actions are ‘a triumph’.

Behind this behaviour, there is usually an enormous fear of being alone, of being abandoned. Of course, we all have these fears to some extent, but we do not resort to compensatory mechanisms of that sort.

Sometimes we are afraid of certain emotions we feel, as if we feared that what we are feeling is unhealthy. 

We must always bear in mind that what happens within our psyche is not entirely random or pathological, but purposeful and constructive. There are not only demons; there are angels too.

I can’t recall whether I’ve already expressed this idea, but I’ll reiterate it because I consider it important and because I think we’ll be less frightened if we realise we’re experiencing certain feelings.

Without referring to psychological manuals or classifications… we’ve all probably experienced feelings like those described above at certain times in our lives.

People with these characteristics are ‘theatrical’ and express their experiences in an exaggerated manner.

They can be seductive or even provocative.

They use their physical appearance in an exaggerated way to get noticed and appear interesting.

They rely more on emotion than on reflection, and tend towards superficiality and banality.

They are also easily influenced and idealise the people they admire; sometimes to the point of imitating them.

They dream of ideal love, but often become involved in unsuitable and unattainable relationships.

They exaggerate every physical sensation, even when there is no actual physical pain.

In severe cases, many people channel and project these emotions onto parts of the body that are psychologically significant to the individual and their personal history.

And so, as the young VIP mentioned above humorously put it, the psyche comes into play.

I do not wish to bore readers or come across as melodramatic myself, but many individuals have often expressed their unease through their bodies.

Some do so more visibly, others in a more subtle way – though perhaps more interesting and fascinating to an ‘insider’.

The literature often refers to ‘hysterical blindness’.

These people are unable to see properly – to a greater or lesser degree. I recall a teenager with visual problems being referred to our department’s psychological assessment (sent by the ophthalmology department).

However, it is not always accepted that objective problems may have an ‘internal’ cause, and so often either the psychological assessment – deemed offensive – is abandoned, or other solutions are sought that may give the illusion of a way out.

It also happens that some individuals, having been referred for an ‘internal’ assessment by leading Italian centres of excellence, but subsequently rejecting what was suggested to them, turn to private practitioners who offer solutions that are, unfortunately, sometimes harmful.

Dr Francesco Giovannozzi, Psychologist and Psychotherapist.

The leper and the creative Touch, which reintegrates him

(Mt 8:1-4)

We ask: how did Jesus practise the Law? His transgressive Touch sums up his life and outcome, teaching and mission.

The marginalised came close to Christ, who did not turn anyone away - openly contravening the Torah's rule (Lev 13) imposing that the unclean should be cast out, and to them to allow themselves to be excluded.

For every rejected from the circle of hypocritical legalists there is only one way out, always: to be healed by God himself. And to invent ways to circumvent the norm [even devout] in order to have a personal relationship - without prior conditions of purity.

One is not saved alone: immaculacy can only be a Gift. But often even those who are called upon to help refuse to deal with - locking the very needy into absurd loneliness.

For the Lord, religious exclusivism is a sordid invention of opportunistic potentates and deviant leaders who distort the face of God to subjugate consciences.

The Father welcomes everyone as sons; Jesus as friends - and He does so by violating [also] certain provisions.

Thus the man of Faith embraces sisters and brothers, excluding the precautionary scrutiny of upstream conditions, moralistic or sacred judgements, and mentalities.

But in that culture it was only the certificate of health issued by the priests (v.4) that meant: “now you can live readmitted to society”.

In the composition of the passage, the evangelist means: it is the encounter with Christ that heals and becomes the free pass even to be accepted in the community - not the precautions, nor the rigmarole of disciplines of the arcane [always directed by those who consider themselves healthy and uninfected].

One does not have to be already perfect and certified, to be admitted or reinstated, and attend church as “not unwelcomed”.

The Saviour misendures marginalization or exclusive realities, through which we would never recover the original innocence they promise.

Instead, it is the Gratis of Jesus that makes one exist unconditionally, with normality and fullness.

He himself obliges the authorities to recognise the fact that we are pure, complete (to live our vocation) and healed; fully empowered to be with others and not to be sent away.

The Message was indeed strange to conventional ideas, but it spread, arousing enthusiasm precisely among those removed from the 'centre' [cf. parallel Mk 1:45]: God has no repugnance.

And where the arrangements on the ground were contrary to its humanising project, something would have to be invented - in order to have a personal relationship, a meeting, a minimum of face-to-face contact.

Not infrequently (unfortunately) without the nerve to transgress the religious precept, the initiative of love that renews the face of the earth cannot be triggered, and death comes back to haunt us, annihilating every yearning for life.

It seems a paradox, but sometimes one does not get back on one's feet otherwise than by circumventing the obstacles of certain provisions, with extreme courage and at the risk of further marginalization.

We see it in the Son who re-lifts us up, a violator of exclusive formal procedures: an 'eccentric divine' who has the power to overcome the most lacerating evil: that which corrodes within and excludes.

Today, too, the Spirit of rehabilitation bursts into our reality, breaking through the outside hard stone tables, in order to ramp through - and finally occupy the centre of our path.

[Friday 12.th wk. in O.T.  June 26, 2026]

Leper and the creative Touch, which reintegrates him

(Mt 8:1-4)

We ask: how did Jesus practise the Law? His transgressive Touch sums up his life and outcome, teaching and mission.

The outcasts came close to Christ, who did not turn anyone away - openly contravening the rule of the Torah (Lev 13) which required the unclean to be cast out.

For every rejectionist from the circle of hypocritical legalists there is only one way out, always: to be healed by God himself. And to invent a way around the law [even devout law] in order to have a personal relationship - without prior conditions of purity.

One is not saved alone: immaculacy can only be given. But often even those who are called to help refuse to take care of it - locking the very needy into absurd loneliness.

For the Lord, religious exclusivism is a squalid invention of opportunistic potentates and deviant leaders, who distort the face of God to subjugate consciences.

The Father welcomes all as sons; Jesus as friends - and He does so by violating [also] certain provisions.

Thus the man of Faith embraces sisters and brothers, excluding the precautionary scrutiny of upstream conditions, moralistic or sacred judgements, and mentalities.

But in that culture it was only the certificate of health issued by the priests (v.4) that meant: 'now you can live readmitted to society'.

In the composition of the pericope, the evangelist means: it is the encounter with Christ that heals and becomes the free pass even to be accepted in the community - not the precautions, nor the rigmarole of the disciplines of the arcane [always directed by those who consider themselves healthy and uninfected].

One does not have to be already perfect and certified to be admitted or reintegrated, and attend church as 'unwelcome'.

The Saviour resents marginalisations or exclusive realities, through which we would never recover the original innocence that they promise.

Instead, it is the Gratis of Jesus that makes one exist unconditionally, with normality and fullness.

He himself obliges the authorities to recognise the fact that we are pure, complete (to live our vocation) and healed; fully enabled to be with others and not to be sent away.

The Message was indeed strange to conventional ideas, but it spread, arousing enthusiasm precisely among those removed from the 'centre' [cf. parallel Mk 1:45]: God has no repugnance.

And where the arrangements on the ground were contrary to his humanising project, something had to be invented - just to have a personal relationship, an encounter, a minimum of face-to-face contact.

Not infrequently (unfortunately) without the nerve to transgress the religious precept, the initiative of love that renews the face of the earth cannot be triggered, and death returns to seize us, annihilating every yearning for life.

It seems a paradox, but sometimes one does not get back on one's feet otherwise than by circumventing the obstacles of certain provisions, with extreme courage and at the risk of further marginalisation.

We see this in the Son who lifts us up, a counter-violator of exclusive formal procedures: an 'eccentric divine' who has the power to overcome the most lacerating evil: that which corrodes within and excludes.

Today too, the Spirit of restoration bursts into our reality, breaking through the hard tables of stone on the outside, in order to break through - and finally occupy the centre of our path.

"The Gospel shows us Jesus coming into contact with the form of disease considered in those days the most serious, so much so as to render the person "unclean" and exclude him from social relations: we speak of leprosy. A special legislation (cf. Lev 13-14) reserved to the priests the task of declaring the person leprous, that is, impure; and equally it was up to the priest to ascertain the cure and readmit the healed sick person to normal life.

While Jesus was preaching in the villages of Galilee, a leper came to him and said: "If you want, you can cleanse me!". Jesus did not escape contact with that man, indeed, moved by intimate participation in his condition, he reached out his hand and touched him - overriding the legal prohibition - and said to him: "I will, be cleansed!" In that gesture and in those words of Christ there is the whole history of salvation, there is embodied the will of God to heal us, to purify us from the evil that disfigures us and ruins our relationships. In that contact between the hand of Jesus and the leper, every barrier is broken down between God and human impurity, between the Sacred and its opposite, certainly not to deny evil and its negative force, but to show that God's love is stronger than all evil, even the most contagious and horrible. Jesus took our infirmities upon himself, he became a 'leper' so that we might be cleansed.A splendid existential commentary on this Gospel is the famous experience of St Francis of Assisi, which he summarises at the beginning of his Testament: "The Lord gave me, Brother Francis, to begin to do penance in this way: when I was in sin, it seemed too bitter for me to see lepers; and the Lord himself led me among them and I showed them mercy. And as I departed from them, what seemed bitter to me was changed to sweetness of mind and body. And then I stayed a little while and went out of the world" (FF, 110). In those lepers, whom Francis met when he was still "in sin," as he says, Jesus was present; and when Francis approached one of them and, overcoming his own disgust, embraced him, Jesus healed him of his leprosy, that is, of his pride, and converted him to the love of God. Here is the victory of Christ, which is our deep healing and our resurrection to new life!"

[Pope Benedict, Angelus of 12 February 2012].

To internalise and live the message:

In your spiritual story, what wins? The Touch of Christ or that of circumstances, mannerisms, chain of command?

What kind is your Touch? Sanitising or clenched fist? Do you know how to place people in their Centre, and thereby make them feel adequate?

The Leper and the Touch

(Mk 1:40-45)

"He who proclaims makes his own the desire of God, who pines for those who are distant. He knows no enemies, only fellow travellers. He does not stand as a master, he knows that the search for God is common and must be shared, that the closeness of Jesus is never denied to anyone" [Pope Francis].

The nameless leper represents us. And the Touch of Jesus sums up his life, teaching and mission.

It manifests itself especially when the environment marginalises the uniqueness of the soul, and a part of us seems impatient, wants the new.

Certain established aspects no longer belong to us. Such moral certainty in the soul is a precious spy, not to be silenced.

In the restless, ill-judged person there is often an external - conditioned - aversion and an intuitive, internal one too.

We are not appeased by the artificial lifestyle we lead, almost forced - nor by the very idea of us.

So we ask: is there any therapy to the mechanisms that do not belong to us, and to those that we instinctively consider in our character, outdated?

Yes, because discomfort can become knowledge: it is a primordial language that can guide us towards change.

Disaffection and the perception of estrangement give rise to new awareness.

Discontent generates shock, dreams of expectation, hence the now unpostponable Exodus.

Where to look for trust and support, to overcome automatisms?

In the Living One Himself, who is all off the rails, and is not afraid to defile Himself - not even with an individual covered in disease and cracks ["leper": v.40].

No one with 'leprosy' or skin disease could approach anyone - least of all a man of God - but Mc wants to emphasise that it is the customary way of understanding religion [and one's 'place'] that makes one unclean.

Legalistic norms marginalise people and guilt them, make them feel dirty inside - inculcating that sense of unworthiness that negatively affects their evolution.

Of course, made transparent in God, we all catch ourselves full of evil. But this must not mark our history, because of fallibility; with a cloak of insuperable identifications.

In this way, perception does not disintegrate into torment. On the contrary, relentlessly shifting gaze presents horizons, suggests paths, triggers even transgressive reactions - at least from the point of view of intransigent indictments, all far removed from real life.

We are challenged even by the banality of concatenations, but our today and tomorrow may not result from our yesterday [a tissue of whatever, predictable condemnations].

In Christ, poverty becomes more than a hope (vv.40-42). So, beware of models!

One does not have to be 'worldly and precise' to have 'then' the right to present oneself to God: his Love is symptomatic and engaging, because it does not wait for the other's perfections first.

The Source of the Free transforms and makes it transparent: it does not modulate generosity on the basis of merits - on the contrary, of needs.

The archaistic religious directive accentuated exclusions - thus chastising the infirm to solitude, to social marginalisation.

The leper had to live apart. But having understood that only the Person of the Lord could make him 'pure', he set aside the Law that had chastised him for vacuous prejudices.

Mk means: do not be afraid to denounce by your own initiative that certain customs are contrary to God's plan.

As a matter of fact, there is no way to get close to Christ (i.e. to have a personal relationship) without each of us inventing a chance that dribbles the usual people around Him - and absolutely does not follow their mentality.The devout or sophisticated environment will try to curb any individual eccentricity.

But in our relationship with God and to realise life, it is decisive that we remain lovers of direct communication.

In every condition we are in eccentric dialogue with the regenerative and superior Source; passionate about the experience of love, which does not exist without freedom.

To help the precarious brother on whom the sentence of impurity hangs - "neighbour" seen as inappellably defiled - even the Son transgresses the religious prescription!

In order to remain undefiled, the sacred precept required to be on guard against lepers - afflicted with an evil that corrodes within, the very image of sin.

That unscrupulous gesture also imposes on us overly considerate people the practice of risk, of demystification.

Indeed, by rule of religion the Lord himself with his Touch becomes a polluted person to be healed and kept at a distance (v.45) - disenfranchised.

However, by reinterpreting the prescriptions of the beginning (v.44) Jesus reveals the face of the Father: he wants each of us to be able to live with others and be accepted, not segregated.

He is saying to his own, who already showed strange tendencies in the first communities: you are obliged to welcome in everything even the misfits, outcasts and wretches, and let them take an active part in the liturgies, the meetings, the joy of the feasts.

The Risen One (v.45) continues to suggest to us, challenging public opinion:

"The certificate of healing I will provide, to the people you make feel guilty. My church leaders are not to endorse, but only to note that I have absorbed the fault of the missing - indeed, it will become astonishment in me'.

A truly lovely proposal, free of forcings and dissociations.

In the attitude of an inverted spirituality - neither selective nor empty - here we are driven to the enthusiastic proclamation of the concrete experience each person has with the person of Christ.

This even if at first it may be lacking, because He does not like to be considered a triumphant king of this world (v.44a).

Beautiful, however, is this subversion: that which unites divine and human traits in an incomparable way.

For each, without hysterical tares.

Subversion that offers us God's purity and entrusts our uncertainty to Him: indeed, the only "scandalous" subversion that brings together many crowds "from all sides" (v.45).

Indeed, the Tao Tê Ching (LXIII) says:

"He plans the difficult in his easy, he works the great in his small: the most difficult undertakings under heaven certainly begin in the small. That is why the saint does not work the great, and thus can complete his greatness'.

This is natural Wisdom, which conveys self-confidence, and will amaze us with flourishes. Complicity of a God who is finally not unpleasant.

Eternal One who makes Himself Present in the very foundation and meaning of the divine-human place on earth, His Vineyard of inapparent.

Thus he can break down the barriers of 'religious' defects, and make everyone feel adequate.

To internalise and live the message:

How do you challenge the public opinion of your time, to foster the practice of equality, freedom, convivial love?

Have you ever marvelled at your shadow sides, which have become precious pearls, of unprecedented value?

Have you encountered passionate guides, who taught you to love your religious flaws?

Ritual purity is completely incidental

The evangelical proclamation of "beatitude", of happiness, retains and increases its full validity today, when Catholics and all men of good will throughout the world are invited to express their solidarity with their leprous brethren with a concrete and active gesture.

Leprosy! The very name, even today, inspires in everyone a sense of dismay and horror. We know from history that this feeling was strongly perceived among the ancients, particularly among the peoples of the East, where, for climatic and hygienic reasons, this disease was very much felt. In the Old Testament (cf. Lev 13-14) we find detailed and minute case histories and legislation for those afflicted by the disease: ancestral fears, the widespread conception of fatality, incurability and contagion, forced the Jewish people to use appropriate preventive measures, through the isolation of the leper, who, considered in a state of ritual impurity, found himself physically and psychologically marginalised and excluded from the family, social and religious events of the chosen people. Moreover, leprosy was a mark of condemnation, as the disease was considered a punishment from God. All that remained was the hope that the power of the Most High would heal the afflicted.

Jesus, in his mission of salvation, often encountered lepers, these beings disfigured in form, deprived of the reflection of the image of the glory of God in the physical integrity of the human body, authentic wrecks and refuse of the society of the time.Jesus' encounter with lepers is the type and model of his encounter with every man, who is healed and brought back to the perfection of the original divine image and readmitted to the communion of God's people. In these encounters Jesus manifested himself as the bearer of new life, of a fullness of humanity long lost. Mosaic legislation excluded, condemned the leper, forbade approaching him, speaking to him, touching him. Jesus, instead, shows himself, first of all, sovereignly free with respect to the ancient law: he approaches, speaks to, touches, and even heals the leper, heals him, restores his flesh to the freshness of that of a child. "Then there came to him a leper," we read in Mark, "begging him on his knees and saying to him, "If you want, you can heal me! Moved with compassion, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him and said, "I will, heal him!" Immediately the leprosy disappeared and he was healed" (Mark 1:40-42; cf. Matth. 8:2-4; Luc. 5:12-15). The same will happen to ten other lepers (cf. Luc. 17: 12-19). "The lepers are healed!", this is the sign Jesus gives for his messianicity to the disciples of John the Baptist, who have come to question him (Matth. 11, 5). And to his disciples Jesus entrusts his own mission: "Preach that the kingdom of heaven is at hand. ., heal the lepers" (Matth. 10: 7 ff.). He also solemnly affirmed that ritual purity is completely ancillary, that the truly important and decisive one for salvation is moral purity, that of the heart, of the will, which has nothing to do with the stains of the skin or of the person (Ibid. 15, 10-20).

But the loving gesture of Christ, who approached the lepers, comforting and healing them, has its full and mysterious expression in the Passion, in which he, tortured and disfigured by the sweat of blood, the scourging, the crowning with thorns, the crucifixion, the exclusionary rejection of the people already benefited, comes to identify himself with the lepers, becomes the image and symbol of them, as the prophet Isaiah had intuited when contemplating the mystery of the Servant of Yahweh: "He has no appearance or beauty.. despised and rejected by men . . like one before whom one covers one's face, ... and we judged him chastened, beaten by God and humiliated" (Is. 53:2-4). But it is precisely from the wounds of Jesus' mangled body and the power of his resurrection, that life and hope spring forth for all men affected by evil and infirmity.

The Church has always been faithful to the mission of proclaiming the Word of Christ, combined with the concrete gesture of solidarity and mercy towards the least. Over the centuries, there has been an overwhelming and extraordinary crescendo of dedication to those afflicted by the most humanly repugnant diseases, and in particular leprosy, whose gloomy presence continued to persist in the eastern and western worlds. History makes it clear that it was the Christians who first became interested and concerned about the problem of lepers. Christ's example had set a school and was fruitful in solidarity, dedication, generosity, and selfless charity.

In the history of Christian hagiography, the episode concerning Francis of Assisi has remained emblematic: he was young, like you; like you he sought joy, happiness, glory; yet he wanted to give total and definitive meaning to his own existence. Among all the horrors of human misery, Francis felt an instinctive repugnance for lepers. But lo and behold, one day he encountered one, while on horseback near Assisi. He felt great revulsion, but, not to fail in his commitment to become a 'knight of Christ', he leapt from the saddle and, as the leper extended his hand to receive alms, Francis handed him money and kissed him (Cf. TOMMASO DA CELANO, Vita seconda di San Francesco d'Assisi, I, V: "Fonti Francescane", I, p. 561, Assisi 1977; S. BONAVENTURA DA BAGNOREGIO, Leggenda maggiore, I, 5: ed. cit, p. 842).

The great expansion of the Missions in modern times has given new impetus to the movement in favour of the leprosy brothers. In all regions of the world the Missionaries have encountered these sick, abandoned, rejected, victims of social and legal disqualifications and discrimination, which degrade man and violate the fundamental rights of the human person. The missionaries, out of love for Christ, have always proclaimed the Gospel even to lepers, they have tried by all means to help them, to cure them with all the possibilities that medicine, often primitive, could offer, but especially they have loved them, freeing them from loneliness and incomprehension and sometimes sharing their lives fully, because they saw in the disfigured body of their brother the image of the suffering Christ. We wish to recall the heroic figure of Father Damien de Veuster, who spontaneously chose and asked his Superiors to be segregated among the lepers of Molokai, to remain with them and to communicate to them the hope of the Gospel, and finally, stricken by the disease, shared the fate of his brothers until his death.

But with him we wish to remember and present to the admiration and example of the world the thousands of missionaries, priests, religious men and women, lay people, catechists, doctors, who have wanted to be friends of the lepers, and whose edifying and exemplary generosity is today a comfort and a spur to us, to continue the human and Christian "fight against leprosy and all leprosy", which is rampant in contemporary society, such as hunger, discrimination, underdevelopment.

[Pope Paul VI, Homily XXV World Leprosy Day 29 January 1978].

The Gospel shows us Jesus in touch with a form of disease then considered the most serious, so serious as to make the person infected with it “unclean” and to exclude that person from social relations: we are speaking of leprosy. Special legislation (cf. Lev 13-14) allocated to priests the task of declaring a person to be “leprous”, that is, unclean; and it was likewise the priest’s task to note the person’s recovery and to readmit him or her, when restored to health, to normal life.

While Jesus was going about the villages of Galilee preaching, a leper came up and besought him: “If you will, you can make me clean”. Jesus did not shun contact with that man; on the contrary, impelled by deep participation in his condition, he stretched out his hand and touched the man — overcoming the legal prohibition — and said to him: “I will; be clean”.

That gesture and those words of Christ contain the whole history of salvation, they embody God’s will to heal us, to purify us from the illness that disfigures us and ruins our relationships. In that contact between Jesus’ hand and the leper, every barrier between God and human impurity, between the Sacred and its opposite, was pulled down. This was not of course in order to deny evil and its negative power, but to demonstrate that God’s love is stronger than all illness, even in its most contagious and horrible form. Jesus took upon himself our infirmities, he made himself “a leper” so that we might be cleansed.

A splendid existential comment on this Gospel is the well known experience of St Francis of Assisi, which he sums up at the beginning of his Testament: “This is how the Lord gave me, Brother Francis, the power to do penance. When I was in sin the sight of lepers was too bitter for me. And the Lord himself led me among them, and I pitied and helped them. And when I left them I discovered that what had seemed bitter to me was changed into sweetness in my soul and body. And shortly afterward I rose and left the world” (FF, 110).

In those lepers whom Francis met when he was still “in sin” — as he says — Jesus was present; and when Francis approached one of them, overcoming his own disgust, he embraced him, Jesus healed him from his “leprosy”, namely, from his pride, and converted him to love of God. This is Christ’s victory which is our profound healing and our resurrection to new life!

[Pope Benedict, Angelus of 12 February 2012]