"Watch, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming" (Mt 24: 42). Jesus, who came among us at Christmas and will return in glory at the end of time, does not tire of visiting us continuously in everyday events. He asks us to be alert to perceive his presence, his advent, and recommends that we watch and wait for him since his coming is not programmed or foretold but will be sudden and unexpected. Only those who are alert are not taken by surprise. He warns: may it not happen to you as in Noah's day, when men ate and drank heedlessly and were swept away unprepared by the flood (cf. Mt 24: 37-38). What does the Lord want to make us understand with this warning, other than we must not let ourselves be absorbed by material realities and concerns to the point of being ensnared by them? We must live in the eyes of the Lord with the conviction that he can make himself present. If we live in this way, the world will become better. 

"Watch, therefore". Let us listen to Jesus' Gospel invitation and prepare ourselves to relive with faith the mystery of the Redeemer's birth, which filled all the world with joy; let us prepare ourselves to welcome the Lord in his constant coming to us in the events of life, in joy and in pain, in health and in sickness; let us prepare ourselves to meet him at his definitive coming. His nearness is always a source of peace, and if suffering, a legacy of human nature, sometimes becomes unbearable, with the Saviour's advent "suffering - without ceasing to be suffering - becomes, despite everything, a hymn of praise" (Spe Salvi, n. 37).

[Pope Benedict, homily at the Roman hospital of St. John the Baptist, 2 December 2007]

1. “Faith is the foundation of things hoped for, the proof of things not seen” (Heb 11:1).
These are the words of the author of the Letter to the Hebrews in today’s second reading.

Faith, which brings man from the world of visible things to the invisible reality of God and eternal life, resembles the journey to which Abraham was called by God - and for this reason he is called "the father of all who believe" (cf. Rom 4:11-12). Later in the Letter to the Hebrews, we read: "By faith Abraham, when called, obeyed and went out to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he lived in the land of promise . . ." (Heb 11:8-9). Yes, that is how it is. Faith is the spiritual pilgrimage on which man sets out, following the word of the living God, to reach the land of promised peace and happiness, union with God "face to face"; that union which will fill the human heart with the deepest hunger and thirst: the hunger for truth and the thirst for love.

Therefore, as we hear later in today's liturgy, the attitude of mind that befits the believer is one of vigilance: 'You too must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him' (Lk 12:40). Such vigilance is also an expression of spiritual aspiration to God through faith.

[Pope John Paul II, Angelus, 10 August 1980]

Today I would like to pause on that dimension of hope that is vigilant waiting. The theme of vigilance is one of the guiding threads of the New Testament. Jesus preaches to his disciples: “Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning, and be like men who are waiting for their master to come home from the marriage feast, so that they may open to him at once when he comes and knocks” (Lk 12:35-36). In this time that follows the Resurrection of Jesus, in which peaceful moments continually alternate with painful moments, a Christian never rests. The Gospel recommends being as servants who never go to sleep until their master has returned. This world requires our responsibility, and we accept all of it and with love. Jesus wants our existence to be laborious, that we never lower our guard, so as to welcome with gratitude and wonder each new day given to us by God. Every morning is a blank page on which a Christian begins to write with good works. We have already been saved by Jesus’ redemption, however, now we await the full manifestation of his power: when at last God will be everything to every one (cf. 1 Cor 15:28). Nothing is more certain, in the faith of Christians, than this “appointment”, this appointment with the Lord, when he shall come. And when this day arrives, we Christians want to be like those servants who spent the night with their loins girded and their lamps burning: we must be ready for the salvation that comes; ready for the encounter. Have you thought about what that encounter with Jesus will be like, when he comes? It will be an embrace, an enormous joy, a great joy! We must live in anticipation of this encounter!

Christians are not made for boredom; if anything, for patience. We know that hidden in the monotony of certain identical days is a mystery of grace. There are people who with the perseverance of their love become as wells that irrigate the desert. Nothing happens in vain; and no situation in which a Christian finds himself is completely resistant to love. No night is so long as to make us forget the joy of the sunrise. And the darker the night, the closer the dawn. If we remain united with Jesus, the cold of difficult moments does not paralyze us; and if even the whole world preached against hope, if it said that the future would bring only dark clouds, a Christian knows that in that same future there will be Christ’s return. No one knows when this will take place, but the thought that at the end of our history there will be Merciful Jesus suffices in order to have faith and not to curse life. Everything will be saved. Everything. We will suffer; there will be moments that give rise to anger and indignation, but the sweet and powerful memory of Christ will drive away the temptation to think that this life is a mistake

After we have met Jesus, we cannot but examine history with faith and hope. Jesus is as a house, and we are inside, and from the windows of this house we look at the world. For this reason we do not close in on ourselves, we do not long with melancholy for a supposedly golden past, but we look ever forward, to a future that is not only our handiwork, but that above all is a constant concern of the providence of God. All that is lacklustre will one day become light.

Let us consider that God never contradicts himself. Never. God never disappoints. His will in our regard is not nebulous but is a well-defined salvific plan: God “desires all men to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim 2:4). Therefore let us not abandon ourselves to the flow of events with pessimism, as if history were a runaway train. Resignation is not a Christian virtue. 

As it is not Christian to shrug one’s shoulders or bow one’s head before a seemingly inescapable destiny.

One who brings hope to the world is never a submissive person. Jesus recommends we not await him with idle hands: “Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes” (Lk 12:37). There is no peacemaker who at the end of the day has not compromised his personal peace, taking on the problems of others. A submissive person is not a peace-builder but is an idler, one who wants to be comfortable. Meanwhile a Christian is a peacemaker when he takes risks, when he has the courage to take risks in order to bring good, the good which Jesus has given us, given us as a treasure.

In each day of our life, we repeat that invocation that the first disciples, in their Aramaic language, expressed with the words Marana tha, and which we find in the last verse of the Bible, “Come, Lord Jesus” (Rev 22:20). It is the refrain of every Christian life: in our world we need nothing other than Christ’s caress. What a grace if, in prayer, in the difficult days of this life, we hear his voice which responds and assures us: “Behold, I am coming soon” (Rev 22:7)!

[Pope Francis, General Audience, 11 October 2017]

(Mt 23:27-32)

John Chrysostom writes in his Commentary on the Gospel of Mt:

«If the conscience of each one could be opened, how many worms, how much rottenness and what unimaginable filth we would find in it. Vile and perverse desires, more filthy than the worms themselves» (73:2).

In his effective Commentary on the Gospel of Mt, St Jerome writes:

«The sepulchres on the outside are white with lime, adorned with marble and gold, resplendent in their colours; but inside they are full of the bones of the dead. So also the perverse teachers, who say one thing and do another: in dress they show purity and in speech humility; but inside they are full of all decay and impure desire» (4).

Jesus takes a stand against hypocrisy and inconsistent extrinsicism. He does so against authorities who save clothing, ideas and image, but radically unfaithful.

He regrets that they appear fictitious and correct, while inside they are a total denial of the respect for God that they showcase.

Thus they let the dark side of the world stagnate, instead of helping us to remove it.

The ostentatious pity for the great ancestors denounces a guilt complex (vv.29-32), not a profoundly intimate key feature - a unifying sphere of being and acting.

Spiritual masters are in the field not to show off - but to benefit, to give colour, new life; to promote authentic and cheering, creative situations.

The Lord proposes a renewal that reaches deep within, more intimate than the epidermal fuss; that touches the place and dimension of the encounter with the Father.

He is not content with 'monuments' with unseemly surprise, inside.

We are always tempted to remain on the level of an embellished surface, seeking easy and immediate gratification, esteem, honour - especially we priests, who not infrequently like to lull ourselves into accolades.

We satisfy ourselves with epidermal things, why? Encountering oneself, others and reality requires an onerous commitment: that of questioning oneself; stepping out of forms, and external fashions.

The whitewashed tombs appear sacred and graceful, but one knows what they sometimes contain.

Not always crystal-clear diamonds; not always expressions of a direct line with others and with God.

In short, the conspicuousness of pomp and paraphernalia, or winking patinas, is a kind of projection.

Artifice that does not allow thoughts to be processed; it only drives away tiring nightmares - in the most childish way.

Love, on the other hand, lives on real sparks - it does not cross them unscathed by contenting itself with self-representation in decorative signs, or in ideology that lures the naive.

Screens of incredible emptiness.

While recognizing the facets of great artistic expression and differing opinions as legitimate, Jesus would have subscribed to a principle of the Puritan laity: «The greater the ceremonies, the lesser the Truth».

[Wednesday 21st wk. in O.T.  August 27, 2025]

Parveniences: empty

(Mt 23:27-32)

John Chrysostom writes in his Commentary on the Gospel of Mt:

"If one could open the conscience of each one, how many worms, how much rottenness and what unimaginable filth we would find in it. Filthy and perverse desires, filthier than the worms themselves" (73:2).

Perhaps we were taken aback by the Pope's stern commitment against cheerful, casual and ambiguous forms of property management, and in the field of morality within the Catholic Church - a veritable clerical reclamation, which went as far as the reopening of prisons.

But by taking a stand against the system of grand parveniences [hypocrisy and incoherent extrinsicism] Jesus increases the dose.

He does so against the ancient authorities, religious leaders and traders in the sacred - leaders who save their robes, ideas and image, but who are radically unfaithful.

He pities their fictitious and correct appearance, while inside they are a total denial of the respect for God that they showcase.

Thus they stagnate the dark side of the world, instead of helping us to remove it.

The ostentatious pity for the great ancestors denounces a guilt complex (vv.29-32), not a profoundly intimate figure - a unifying ambit of being and acting.

Hysteria that exorcises the vice of the 'chosen ones' of all time: getting out of the way of those who unmask their empty existence; as well as their well-adorned, cerebral or legalistic ascendancy, which still forces the lives of so many people into the tombs.

Spiritual teachers are in the field not to show off - nor to incarnate themselves as threatening guides.

They must act to benefit, to give colour, new lifeblood; to promote authentic situations and new, cheering and creative content.

In his timely Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, St Jerome writes:

"The sepulchres on the outside are white with lime, adorned with marble and gold, resplendent in their colours; but inside they are full of the bones of the dead. So also the perverse teachers, who say one thing and do another: in dress they show purity and in speech humility; but inside they are full of all decay and impure desire" (4).

The Lord proposes a renewal that reaches deep within, more intimate than epidermal agitation; that touches the place and dimension of the encounter with the Father.

He is not content with 'monuments' with a little surprise inside.

We are always tempted to remain on the plane of an embellished surface, in search of easy and immediate satisfaction, esteem, honour - especially we priests, who not infrequently like to lull ourselves in futile accolades.

And our various theatres of conspicuous but deaf religiosity are largely willing to make up with spiritual rank the membership of the great priests in the civilisation of fictions - clean and ornate.

We satisfy ourselves with epidermal things, why? Meeting oneself, others and reality requires a heavy commitment: that of questioning oneself; stepping out of forms, and external fashions.

But good manners are not enough, to cover so many bad habits.

The false security of presenting our soap opera façade is no longer enough: a figure set up by the even religious and pious rank one wishes to display.

The hypocrisy of accommodated interpretations or blatant characterisations is a not infrequently disguised and even criminal attitude.

It is blithely leading us to the dark evil of the most decadent vacuity, and widespread sadness.

The whitewashed tombs of our early graveyard appear sacred and gracious, but one knows what they sometimes contain.

Not always crystal-clear diamonds; not always expressions of a direct line with others and with God.

So the surprising commitment of today's hierarchies to internal purification remains a fixed point, entirely appropriate.

It is life that counts and must be promoted, not the papery appearance of all that is unknown or covered up in our homes.

On the contrary, it is precisely the mannerists or modernists, the facade moralisers, the most vain protagonists of ritual or à la page beauty... that turn out to be the worst people - with a double life; lovers of a satrap style [perhaps for social redemption].

Here is the confusing of ideas even to oneself, and the paradoxical work of disidentification.

In short, the gaudiness of pomp and paraphernalia, or of patinas that always wink, is a kind of projection.

It is an artifice that does not allow thoughts to be processed; it only drives away tiring nightmares - in the most puerile way.

Love, on the other hand, lives on real sparks - it does not cross them unscathed by settling for self-representation in decorative signs, or in ideology that lures the naive.

Screens of incredible emptiness.

While recognising the facets of great artistic expressions and differing opinions as legitimate, Jesus would have subscribed to the principle of the Anglo-Saxon Puritan laity: 'The greater the ceremonies, the lesser the Truth'.To internalise and live the message:

What clerical hypocrisies [or adherence-scapegoats] bother you, despite their pomp?

The hypocritical accusers pretend to entrust the judgement to him whereas it is actually he himself whom they wish to accuse and judge. Jesus, on the other hand, is "full of grace and truth" (Jn 1: 14): he can read every human heart, he wants to condemn the sin but save the sinner, and unmask hypocrisy. St John the Evangelist highlights one detail: while his accusers are insistently interrogating him, Jesus bends down and starts writing with his finger on the ground. St Augustine notes that this gesture portrays Christ as the divine legislator: in fact, God wrote the law with his finger on tablets of stone (cf. Commentary on John's Gospel, 33,5). Thus Jesus is the Legislator, he is Justice in person. And what is his sentence? "Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her". These words are full of the disarming power of truth that pulls down the wall of hypocrisy.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 21 March 2010]

2. The present-day mentality, more perhaps than that of people in the past, seems opposed to a God of mercy, and in fact tends to exclude from life and to remove from the human heart the very idea of mercy. The word and the concept of "mercy" seem to cause uneasiness in man, who, thanks to the enormous development of science and technology, never before known in history, has become the master of the earth and has subdued and dominated.

15. Let us offer up our petitions, directed by the faith, by the hope, and by the charity which Christ has planted in our hearts. This attitude is likewise love of God, whom modern man has sometimes separated far from himself, made extraneous to himself, proclaiming in various ways that God is "superfluous." This is, therefore, love of God, the insulting rejection of whom by modern man we feel profoundly, and we are ready to cry out with Christ on the cross: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do."137 At the same time it is love of people, of all men and women without any exception or division: without difference of race, culture, language, or world outlook, without distinction between friends and enemies. This is love for people-it desires every true good for each individual and for every human community, every family, every nation, every social group, for young people, adults, parents, the elderly-a love for everyone, without exception. This is love, or rather an anxious solicitude to ensure for each individual every true good and to remove and drive away every sort of evil.

[Pope John Paul II, Dives in Misericordia]

When it is said of someone that they are a person with a double life, it is not to pay them a compliment. On the contrary. It is those people who irritate, cause indignation, or often even disgust with behaviour that contradicts the things that they are paying lip service to. Whether it is a politician or a neighbour makes little difference: discovering, so to speak, a 'double life', is something that always hurts. And let us not mention the disillusionment it can generate, especially in young people.

But if preaching well and braying badly is always an irritating thing, when it is a priest doing it, it is even more intolerable. Because there is something more at stake. Pope Francis said it very clearly, and as always in a very direct and effective style, a few days ago. When, in the homily of the morning Mass at Santa Marta, he stressed how "it is ugly to see pastors of double life", indeed it is a real "wound in the Church". For the Pope, they are "sick pastors, who have lost their authority and go on in this double life"; and, he added, "there are many ways of carrying on the double life: but it is double ... And Jesus is very strong with them. Not only does he tell people not to listen to them but not to do what they do, but what does he say to them? "You are whited sepulchres": beautiful in doctrine, from the outside. But inside, rottenness. This is the end of the pastor who has no closeness with God in prayer and with people in compassion'.

For it is this that makes the difference. Francis reiterates it firmly: 'What gives a pastor authority or awakens the authority that is given by the Father, is closeness: closeness to God in prayer and closeness to people. The pastor detached from the people does not reach the people with the message. Closeness, this double closeness. This is the anointing of the pastor who is moved by God's gift in prayer, and can be moved by people's sins, problems, illnesses: let the pastor be moved. The scribes ... had lost the 'ability' to be moved precisely because 'they were not close either to the people or to God'". And without this closeness, or when for whatever reason it is lost, 'the shepherd ends up in inconsistency of life'.

It seems like re-reading the words that John Paul II, in his Holy Thursday letter addressed to priests around the world in 1986, dedicated to the Holy Curate of Ars, pointing to him, on the second centenary of his birth, as an example for all priests. 'It is certainly not a matter of forgetting,' wrote Benedict XVI, again on St John Mary Vianney, in his letter of indiction for the 2009 Year for Priests, 'that the substantial effectiveness of the ministry remains independent of the holiness of the minister; but neither can we overlook the extraordinary fruitfulness generated by the encounter between the objective holiness of the ministry and the subjective holiness of the minister. The Curé d'Ars immediately began this humble and patient work of harmonisation between his life as a minister and the holiness of the ministry entrusted to him, deciding to 'live' even materially in his parish church: 'As soon as he arrived, he chose the church as his dwelling... He would enter the church before dawn and only leave it after the evening Angelus. There one had to look for him when one needed him,' reads the first biography'. Consistency, then. Not duplicity. Because God's people need everything except whitewashed sepulchres.

[Pope Francis, St. Martha; Salvatore Mazza in Avvenire 13 January 2018]

(Mt 23:23-26)

When leaders of an equivocal religiosity want to be accredited, they insist on abstract ideas or details, and pretend not to see the abnormal.

In ancient times, the duplicity between what they showed and what they cultivated was proverbial.

To cover up their despicable spirit of robbery (v.25), here they are to make sprout all sorts of legalistic subtleties, overshadowing the substantial demands.

Even in Israel, they were never on the line of the Prophets: they calculated to make Jesus suffer who exposed them, to discourage him with mocking insults and accusations - in order to undermine his boldness.

Yet the new Rabbi continued in the lashing condemnation of religious formalism, which created barriers to any profound motivations’ search for action.

However, his story makes us understand that even the harsh conditions and ambiguous attitudes of the authorities themselves can be an opportunity and a starting point.

Perhaps a gift, to act.

The inner person also enlivens by breaking a mask, a role, a formal task, a character; a consolidated icon of wanting to appear and not to be.

However, today it is also up to us to take the greatest risk with Christ, in favour of a long adventure of the soul.

Here we touch those spaces where the Call by Name doesn’t resemble anyone else.

Where we meet ourselves, our profound vocational identity, the unexpressed talents, and the divine Author’s signature, in Uniqueness.

If we do not keep it quiet, then the vocational Seed that does not lie and guides us emerges; the present Risen Christ who reveals himself to be understanding, delicate, attentive, absolutely personal but clear.

Attention to details and minutiae is good and propulsive (v.23) only if it joins this intimate discovery of one’s singular Mission.

Here the reference to substantial values does not imply carelessness or contempt for what seems secondary: this appeal can conceal an unrepeatable character.

Devoid of extreme solicitations, the motive of our actions would perhaps remain the benefit and concern of our own fame; so on.

This would pervade the soul from not doing or not saying anything, making arid and discredited the experience of Faith.

In this way, even an internal or external contradiction can contribute to giving birth to our deepest side.

Even anger at a disorder can activate development, so that we correspond to our Name.

And so we sink our roots, strengthen the trunk, to stimulate inner youthfulness. With our sights set on the hidden Seed, before raising “branches”.

The Master proposes an ascent to essentiality - also so that we can follow the «one specific path that the Lord has in mind for us» [Gaudete et Exsultate n.11].

All in a great desire to be born again, in the small and the big, to give birth to our deepest side.

[Tuesday 21th wk. in O.T.  August 26, 2025]

In the Liturgy of the Word [...] the theme of God’s Law, of his commandments, makes its entrance in the Liturgy of the Word this Sunday. It is an essential element of the Jewish and Christian religions, where the complete fulfilment of the law is love (cf. Rom 13:10). God’s Law is his word which guides men and women on the journey through life, brings them out of the slavery of selfishness and leads them into the “land” of true freedom and life. This is why the Law is not perceived as a burden or an oppressive restriction in the Bible. Rather, it is seen as the Lord’s most precious gift, the testimony of his fatherly love, of his desire to be close to his People, to be its Ally and with it write a love story.

This is what the devout Israelite prays: “I will delight in your statutes, / I will not forget your word.... Lead me in the path of your commandments, / for I delight in it” (Ps 119[118]:16, 35). In the Old Testament the person who passes on the Law to the People on God’s behalf is Moses. After the long journey in the wilderness, on the threshold of the promised land, he proclaims: “Now, O Israel, give heed to the statutes and the ordinances which I teach you, and do them; that you may live, and go in and take possession of the land which the Lord, the God of your fathers, gives you” (Deut 4:1). And this is the problem: when the People put down roots in the land and are the depository of the Law, they are tempted to place their security and joy in something that is no longer the Word of God: in possessions, in power, in other ‘gods’ that in reality are useless, they are idols. Of course, the Law of God remains but it is no longer the most important thing, the rule of life; rather, it becomes a camouflage, a cover-up, while life follows other paths, other rules, interests that are often forms of egoism, both individual and collective.

Thus religion loses its authentic meaning, which is to live listening to God in order to do his will — that is the truth of our being — and thus we live well, in true freedom, and it is reduced to practising secondary customs which instead satisfy the human need to feel in God’s place. This is a serious threat to every religion which Jesus encountered in his time and which, unfortunately, is also to be found in Christianity. Jesus’ words against the scribes and Pharisees in today’s Gospel should therefore be food for thought for us as well.

Jesus makes his own the very words of the Prophet Isaiah: “This People honours me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the precepts of men” (Mk 7:6-7; cf. Is 29,13). And he then concludes: “You leave the commandment of God, and hold fast the tradition of men” (Mk 7:8).

The Apostle James too alerts us in his Letter to the danger of false piety. He writes to the Christians: “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves” (Jas 1:22). May the Virgin Mary, to whom we now turn in prayer, help us to listen with an open and sincere heart to the word of God so that every day it may guide our thoughts, our decisions and our actions.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 2 September 2012]