5th Easter Sunday (year A)  [3 May 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (6:1-7)

Paradoxically, the problem facing the early Christian community arose from its very success. In those days, as the number of disciples grew, the Greek-speaking believers began to grumble against the Hebrew-speaking ones (Acts 6:1). The numbers were growing so rapidly that maintaining unity became difficult. Every expanding group faces the same question: how to remain united when numbers grow? Numerous, and therefore diverse. In truth, the seeds of this difficulty were already present on the morning of Pentecost. In Jerusalem lived devout Jews from every nation under heaven (cf. Acts 2:5). On that day there were three thousand conversions, and others followed in the months and years that followed. All were Jews, for the question of non-Jews arose only later, but many were Jews who had come to Jerusalem on pilgrimage from all over the Empire. These were the Jews of the Diaspora known as Hellenists: their mother tongue was neither Hebrew nor Aramaic, but Greek, which was then the common language throughout the Mediterranean. Thus, the young community immediately found itself facing the ‘challenge of languages’. And we know that the language barrier is much more than a mere difficulty of translation: a different mother tongue means different cultures, customs, and ways of understanding life and solving problems. If language is a net cast over the reality of things, a different language is another net, and the meshes rarely coincide. The practical problem that arose in Jerusalem was the care of widows. Looking after them was a rule of the Jewish world and the community did so willingly, but those managing the service, recruited from the majority Hebrew-speaking group, tended to favour the widows of their own group, whilst the Greek-speaking widows were neglected. These complaints could only grow more bitter, until they reached the ears of the apostles. Their reaction can be summarised in three points. First: they summoned the entire assembly of disciples because every decision is taken in plenary session, given that the Church functions synodally: Why then has this been lost? Second: they recalled the objective. It is a matter of remaining faithful to three demands of apostolic life: prayer, the ministry of the Word and the service of the brothers and sisters. Third: they are not afraid to propose a new organisation. Innovation is not unfaithfulness; on the contrary: faithfulness demands the ability to adapt to new circumstances. Being faithful does not mean remaining fixated on the past, for example by entrusting all tasks to the Twelve simply because they were chosen by Jesus. Being faithful means keeping one’s eyes fixed on the goal, and the goal, as the evangelist John writes, is ‘that they may be one so that the world may believe’ (Jn 17:21). Accepting diversity is the challenge facing every growing community, and when conflicts arise, splitting up is not the best solution; this is why the apostles do not consider dividing the community in two, with Greeks on one side and Jews on the other. The Holy Spirit has brought about numerous and diverse conversions and now inspires the apostles to organise themselves differently to deal with the consequences. The Twelve therefore decide to appoint men capable of taking on the task of serving at the tables, since that is where the problem arises: “Brothers, choose seven of you, men respected by all, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, and we will entrust this task to them. We, for our part, will devote ourselves to prayer and the ministry of the Word’. The seven chosen all bear Greek names: they were therefore almost certainly part of the group of Greek-speaking Christians, from whom the complaints had come. Thus a new institution is born: these servants of the community do not yet have a title, and the text does not use the word ‘deacon’. Although we must not be too quick to identify these men with today’s deacons, one thing remains clear: in every age, the Spirit inspires innovations that are indispensable for faithfully fulfilling the Church’s various missions and priorities. 

Responsorial Psalm (32/33)

I shall begin where the reading of this psalm ends, for there lies a key to understanding the whole. I return to the penultimate verse, verse 18: “The Lord’s eye is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his love.” Here we discover a beautiful definition of “fear of God”: to fear the Lord is simply to place our hope in his love. The believer, in the biblical sense, is a person full of hope; and if they are so, whatever happens, it is because they know that ‘the earth is full of his love’, as verse 5, which we have just heard, says. Knowing that the Lord’s loving gaze is always upon us is the source of our hope. I should point out that, in the Hebrew text, the name ‘Lord’ is the one revealed to Moses in the burning bush: the four-letter name YHWH which, out of respect, Jews never pronounce, and which means something like ‘I am, I will be with you, from everlasting to everlasting, in every moment of your history’. This name reminds Israel of the care with which God surrounded his people throughout the Exodus. If we translate it as ‘God watches over’, this vigilance is well conveyed. Thus we understand the following verse: ‘to deliver him from death and sustain him in times of famine’ (v. 19). These are allusions to the exodus from Egypt: by leading the people across the sea on dry ground behind Moses, the Lord saved the people from the certain death decreed by the Pharaoh; then, by sending manna from heaven in the desert, he truly nourished his people in times of famine. Then praise flows spontaneously from the heart of those who have experienced God’s care: “Rejoice, O righteous ones, in the Lord; for the upright, praise is beautiful” (v. 1). The expression “the upright” may surprise us, yet it is common in the Bible. One is considered upright/righteous who enters into God’s plan, who is united with God like a well-tuned musical instrument. This is said of Abraham: Abraham believed in the Lord, and it was credited to him as righteousness (Gen 15:6). He had faith, that is, he trusted in God and in his plan. Therefore, we could translate “righteous men”, in Hebrew hassidim, as “the men of the Covenant”, or “the men of God’s merciful plan”: those who have accepted the revelation of God’s benevolence and respond to it by adhering to the Covenant. These titles, “righteous men” and “upright men”, do not denote moral qualities, for the hassid is a man like any other, a sinner like any other, but he lives within the Lord’s Covenant; he lives in trust in the faithful God. And since he has discovered the God of tenderness and faithfulness, quite logically he lives in praise: “Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous; praise is fitting for the upright.” This call to praise was the entrance hymn of a liturgy of thanksgiving. We note in passing an indication of how the psalms were performed and of at least one of the instruments used in the Temple of Jerusalem: this psalm was probably intended to be accompanied by a ten-stringed harp. Singing a new song to the Lord does not mean a song never heard before, but a new song in the sense that words of love, even the most familiar ones, are always new. When lovers say ‘I love you’, they are not afraid to repeat the same words, and yet the wonder is that that song is always new. One more note: “The word of the Lord is upright, and all his works are trustworthy” (v. 4). Contrary to appearances, these are not two separate statements, one concerning the word of God and the other concerning his works, because in the Bible the Word of God is already an act in progress: “God said, and it was done,” repeats the account of creation in the first book of Genesis. It is no coincidence that this psalm has twenty-two verses, corresponding to the twenty-two letters of the Hebrew alphabet: it is a tribute to the Word of God, as if to say that it is the whole of our life, from A to Z. And it is no empty compliment, for Israel recognises that from God’s first word to his people, Israel has simultaneously experienced how the promised Word of liberation is, at the same time, already God’s liberating intervention: in every age, the Word of God calls to freedom, and is at the same time a divine force acting within humanity to secure freedom from all idolatry and all slavery. Finally: “He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the Lord’s love” (v. 5). Here the vocation of the whole of creation is described: God is love, and the earth is called to be a place of love, righteousness and justice. Remember the prophet Micah: ‘O man, it has been taught to you what is good and what the Lord requires of you: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God’ (Mic 6:8).

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:4–9)

In Hebrew, the same verb is used to mean ‘to build a house’, ‘to found a family’ and ‘to found a society’. For this reason, even in the Old Testament, the prophets readily used the language of building to speak of human society. Isaiah, for example, devised a parable: he compared the kingdom of Jerusalem to a building site (Isaiah 28:16–17). On that site there was a remarkable block of stone that was meant to become the cornerstone of the building, but the architects scorned that block and preferred to use stones of poor quality. This was a way of accusing the authorities of abandoning true values to build society on false ones. Over time, it became customary to apply the term ‘cornerstone’ to the Messiah: he would be able to take over and restore God’s building site. Peter, in turn, develops this comparison to speak of Christ. Jesus, the Messiah, is truly the most precious stone that God has placed at the centre of the building; and all people are called upon to become stones in this spiritual edifice. Those who agree to become one with him are integrated into the structure, becoming supporting elements themselves. But of course this is a choice to be made, and people may also choose the opposite path, that is, to reject the project and even sabotage it. Then everything happens for them as if the keystone were not at the heart of the building: it has remained on the ground, an admirable block but a hindrance on the building site. The stone rejected by the builders has become the cornerstone, a stumbling block and a stone of offence (cf. 1 Pet 2:7–8). Our Baptism was the moment of choice. Since then, we have been integrated into the building of what Peter calls the spiritual temple, as opposed to the stone temple in Jerusalem where animal sacrifices were offered. From the beginning of history, humanity has sought to reach God by worshipping him in the way it believes is worthy of him. Along its journey, the chosen people discovered the true face of God and learnt to live within his Covenant. Little by little, in the light of the prophets’ teaching, it was discovered that the true temple of God is humanity itself, and that the only worship worthy of him is love and service to our brothers and sisters, and no longer animal sacrifices. But this places a tremendous responsibility upon us: the temple in Jerusalem was the sign of God’s presence among his people. Now, the sign of God’s presence visible to the world is us, the Church of Christ. Peter’s words then resound as a vocation: “Like living stones, you too are being built into a spiritual house” (1 Pet 2:5). Peter distinguishes between those who entrust themselves to Christ and those who reject him. ‘Believing’ and ‘rejecting’ are two acts of free will, and those who do not accept Christ, Peter affirms, stumble because they do not obey the Word. This was their destiny (cf. v. 5); this phrase speaks only of the consequence of their free choice, not of predestination by God’s arbitrary decision: the liberating God can only respect our freedom. At the presentation of Jesus in the temple, Simeon had announced to Joseph and Mary: ‘He is here for the fall and the rising again of many in Israel’ (cf. Lk 2:34). Simeon does not speak of a necessity willed by God, but of the consequences of Jesus’ coming. In fact, his presence was for some an occasion of total conversion, whilst others hardened their hearts. Peter concludes: ‘ But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood” (1 Pet 2:9). On the day of our Baptism, grafted into Christ, we became members of Christ, the one true “priest, prophet and king”. United with him, we have become part of his holy people; we have acquired a new citizenship, that of the people of God, and our national anthem is now the Alleluia. Peter concludes by telling us that we are charged with proclaiming the marvellous works of the One who has called us out of darkness into his marvellous light.

From the Gospel according to John (14:1–12)

If Jesus begins by saying, ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled’ (Jn 14:1), it is because the disciples were not hiding their anguish, and one can understand why. They knew they were surrounded by general hostility and sensed that the countdown had begun. This anguish was compounded, at least for some of them, by a terrible disappointment: “We had hoped that he would be the one to redeem Israel” (from the Romans), the disciples of Emmaus would say (cf. Lk 24:21). The apostles shared this political hope; now their leader is about to be condemned and executed, and their illusions are coming to an end. Jesus sets about redirecting their hope: he will not fulfil the expectations his miracles have raised; he will not lead the national uprising against the occupier; on the contrary, he will not cease to preach non-violence. The liberation he has come to bring lies on another plane: he does not wish to fulfil his people’s earthly and political expectation of the Messiah, but to make them understand that he is the one who has always been awaited. He begins by appealing to their faith, that is, to that fundamental attitude of the Jewish people which we read of in all the psalms, for hope can rest firmly only on faith. This is why Jesus returns repeatedly to these words: ‘believe’, ‘let not your hearts be troubled (for) you believe in God’. Yet it is one thing to believe in God—and this is a given—and quite another to believe in Jesus, precisely at the moment when he seems to have definitively lost the battle. For his contemporaries, to accord Jesus the same faith as God required a tremendous leap, and Jesus seeks to help them perceive the profound unity existing between the Father and himself. Here we have the second key theme of this text: “I am in the Father and the Father is in me” (a phrase he repeats twice). And then: “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father”, and this last phrase resonates in a very special way in the light of what will happen a few hours later, for the revelation of the Father reaches its climax when Jesus dies on the cross. As he dies, Jesus continues to love mankind, all mankind, and even forgives his executioners. It would be necessary to dwell on every sentence of this final conversation between Jesus and his disciples, indeed on each of the words laden with the whole of biblical experience: to know, to see, to abide, to go towards. Every word is at the same time an event, a ‘work’. When he says: ‘I am’, to Jewish ears this clearly evokes God himself, and he dares to say: “I am the way, the truth and the life”, identifying himself with God himself. And at the same time, the Father and he are two distinct persons, for Jesus says: “I am the way” (implied: to the Father). No one comes to the Father except through me. Another way of saying “I am the way” or “I am the gate”, as in the discourse on the Good Shepherd. And when we are united with him, the divine plan of our solidarity in Jesus Christ with the whole of humanity is realised. This is truly a mystery, and we struggle greatly to grasp it, yet it is the very essence of God’s merciful plan, which St Augustine calls the “total Christ”. This solidarity in Jesus Christ is present throughout the New Testament. Paul, for example, evokes it when he speaks of the New Adam and also when he says that Christ is the head of the Body of which we are the members. “The whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth until now” (Rom 8:22): the birth of which he speaks is precisely that of the Body of Christ. Jesus himself very often used the expression ‘Son of Man’ to announce the definitive victory of the whole of humanity gathered together as one man. If we take seriously the expression ‘No one comes to the Father except through me’ and if we consider the solidarity existing among all men in Jesus Christ, then we must also say that Christ does not go to the Father without us. This is the meaning of these words of Jesus: “Where I am, there you will be too”, and again, “When I have gone and prepared a place for you, I will come again and take you to be with me”. Paul affirms this in another way when he writes: “Nothing can ever separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:39). Jesus concludes with a solemn promise: “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do.” After all that Jesus has just said about himself, the term “works” certainly does not refer solely to miracles, for throughout the Old Testament, when the word “work” is used in reference to God, it always refers to God’s great work of liberating his people. This means that the disciples are now associated with the work undertaken by God to free humanity from all physical or moral bondage. This promise of Christ encourages us to believe that, even though history shows the enduring presence of many forms of slavery, this liberation is possible and will come to pass. It is up to each of us to make our own contribution.

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Communion: Root of Being, Dreaming Energy re-reading History

(Jn 13:16-20)

In the context of the washing of the feet, Jesus reminds us that the true disciple should have no illusions: he will have no less persecution than the Master.

An «envoy» is no more important than the One who sends him (v.16). Jesus does not elect Twelve Apostles as if they were leaders destined to have fabulous positions.

The disciples are "sent" in this sense, like the Son by the Father. Within this flow they become a revealing light, fully, without closure.

In short, one of the ways of washing one another's feet (v.14) is precisely to come and feel properly «sent» - depicting a kind of dreamy concatenation: Jesus and God himself, passing through us.

We can only become a continuation of the Mystery surrounding the Person of Christ if we are aware that we are not "more" than others - let alone the Master.

In I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed), Manzoni narrates that the marquis successor to Don Rodrigo [«good man, not an original»] serves the guests at Renzo and Lucia’s wedding table.

Then, however, he withdraws to dine aloof with Don Abbondio: «of humility, he had as much as it took to put himself below those good people, but not to be their equal».

It used to be done this way: social etiquette dictated it.

A style in which, in order to be liked, one accepted to adapt to (impromptu) gestures of almsgiving and benevolence, among excellent, well-mannered people - obviously safeguarding the prominence of positions.

Falling into line with the models does not get us out of the cages; on the contrary, it hides us in the illusion of a change that is not actually taking place, because the bogus order remains, despite the altruism of appearances.

The portent to which we are called and sent is not to make room for convenient feelings, but to move from our own summit to the level of others and to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, to give everyone the emotion of feeling adequate.

From service to Communion: a unique climate [not always “according to manners” but authentically our own and dreamy] of intimate power that develops blooms, triggering impossible recoveries.

From here the story is re-read.

It is the way of Bliss (v.17) - that of the living Lord. The core of the outgoing Church: adding to beautiful and practical teachings the essential dimension, which points downwards.

In action, the profound being of the Friend who has the freedom to descend is expressed. He reveals himself to be a promoter of the unfortunate, not a subtle prevaricator.

Such is the plausible and amiable path, the evangelizing Way of our Roots. Which does not demand "resilience" in relationships, only from the "inferiors" of the world.

«I Am» of Ex 3:14 becomes - without effort - the communal and welcoming People of the servants filled with self-given dignity.

The eternal element of the Logos is preserved and developed by his envoys and the ministerial, 'apostolic' church: both in its original and founding character and in its connection to the history of each one.

To internalize and live the message:

What does it mean to you to go from serving to Communion? Do you consider it an annoying excess?

Is it enough for you to make others feel good at times, as a protagonist and in a smug way, or do you strive to make them feel adequate?

[Thursday 4th wk. in Easter, April 30, 2026]

Pointing downwards, from service to Communion

Jn 13:16-20 (.21-38)

An "envoy" is no more than the one who sends him (v.16). The new CEI translation specifies that Jesus does not elect Twelve Apostles as if they were leaders and phenomena destined to have fabulous positions.

His own are quite ordinary people, sent to proclaim; they are not leaders endowed with office, but with a humble task: to be themselves and wash the feet of others. This is their stuff.

The ministerial Church is not that of characters with titles and roles, but of authentic service, not of manner: humble and non-conformist.

We can only become a continuation of the Mystery that envelops the Person of Christ if we are aware that we are not dual photocopies, nor 'more' than others - let alone the Master.

In I Promessi Sposi (The Betrothed) Manzoni recounts that the Marquis successor to Don Rodrigo ['good man, not an original'] serves the guests at Renzo and Lucia's wedding table.

But then he withdraws to dine aloof with don Abbondio: "he had as much humility as it took to put himself below those good people, but not to be their equal".

This was the way it used to be done: social etiquette dictated it.

Style a la mode, thanks to which, in order to be liked, one accepted to adapt to (extemporary) gestures of begging and benevolence, among very good people - obviously safeguarding the prominence of positions.

But aligning ourselves with the models does not get us out of the usual cages; on the contrary, it hides us in the illusion of a change that is not actually taking place. This is because the bogus order remains, despite the altruism of appearances - put on for the sake of circumstantial goodness.

The portent to which we are called and sent is not to make room for convenient sentiments.

The real 'figure' is to move from our external summit to the level of others and to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, to give everyone the emotion of feeling adequate.

From service to Communion: a unique climate [not always 'according to etiquette' but authentically our own and dreaming] of intimate power that develops blossoms, triggering impossible recoveries.

From here one rereads history.

Yet everyone wonders with what energies to implement it, if at times we ourselves feel incomplete, uncertain in operating; not up to the mark.

In the context of the washing of the feet, Jesus reminds us that the disciple should have no illusions: he will not have as a dowry a splendid career, worldly recognition, or less persecution from the Master.

According to an ancient mentality, to mistreat an ambassador or messenger was to offend those he represented; to accept him was to recognise his honour.

Here we come to the root of the unveiling mission: accepting the envoy honours Christ, and in him God himself (v.20).

The apostles are 'sent' in this sense, like the Son by the Father. Within this flow they become a revealing light, fully, without closure.

In short, one of the ways of washing one another's feet (v.14) is precisely to come and feel properly 'sent' - representing Jesus and God Himself, who pass through us.

It is the way of bliss (v.17) - that of the living Lord. The core of the outgoing Church: adding the essential dimension to beautiful and practical teachings.

Such is the plausible and lovable path, evangelising our Roots. Journey that does not ask for "resilience" in relationships, only to the "inferiors" of the world.

Salvation in the divine dimension, which assumes value. Redemption operated from within the conscience, which finds esteem and face, and free ferment that opens hope, orienting.

In action, the profound being of the Friend who has the freedom to descend is expressed.

He reveals himself to be a promoter of the unfortunate, not a subtle prevaricator.

In making each exodus, our vocational trait carries within it a precious treasure chest, the awareness of the intimate Source of the apostolate, and its precious concatenation that transforms the past into the future.

The resulting sense of completeness and radical significance is effective. 

It is so for those who discover, encounter, feel alive, their missionary Source - and witness to it.

By simply and naturally expressing oneself, without forcing or artificiality - it is at the same time for the brothers to be recognised.

In short, the service of the ministerial community is not in the dimension of servitude, but of a flow of primal energies, of cloth; wave upon genuine wave.

In all this, development after development, we re-actualise the epiphany of the Logos in Christ. In the today of being people [shaky yet convinced, tenacious] bound by a fraternal figure of weight.

"I Am" of Ex 3:14 becomes - without effort - the communal and welcoming People of servants filled with self-given dignity.

The eternal element of the Word is preserved and developed by his envoys and by the ministerial, 'apostolic' church: both in its original and founding character, and in its connection to the history of each person.To internalise and live the message:

What does it mean for you to move from serving to communion? Do you consider it an annoying excess?

Is it enough for you to make others feel good at times, as a protagonist and in a complacent way, or do you strive to make them feel adequate?

Give your life and quickly betray

(Jn 13:21-33, 36-38)

"I will lay down my life for you" - in order to lead.

The apostles would give everything to win, not to lose; to triumph, not to be mocked or fed, and to heal the world.

Better to negotiate. Rather than wash each other's feet!

That is why the Lord wants each of us diners to ask the question whether we are not involved in some betrayal.

Not to blame and plant ourselves there, but to meet each other: each is an admirer and an adversary of the Master.

We are splendour and darkness - coexisting sides, more or less integrated, even competitive.

It is the Resurrection that lurks in the effervescence of life, then redeeming the selfish motivations, and transfiguring the dark and frictional sides into collimating energies elsewhere.

Aspects that become like baby food, for each new genesis - which once they have emerged [planted in the earth and pulled up by the roots] can become strengths.

The road is only blocked in front of the person who continues to have his soul conditioned by old or à la page opinions and evils.

Nothing is revealed there; the miracle of the transmutation of our abyss will not take place.

The liturgy of the Word brings us into contact with a Jesus pervaded by a sense of weakness; his loneliness becomes acute.

In mission, we too are sometimes at the mercy of despondency: perhaps God has deceived us, dragging us into an absurd enterprise?

No, we are not deceived and abandoned to an ignoble logic, to a perverse generation: the power of life itself is strewn with tombstones and has various faces. Beneficial influences.

The favourable path is devoid of prestige, recognised tasks and majesty: they tend to placate us, and not dig in.

It is often disturbances that improve judgement.

The dripping can arouse the voice of the most authentic part of ourselves, become an incisive echo to find ourselves, and complete ourselves - bringing forward the pioneering heart, instead of holding it back.

The road of trial and imbalance awakens us from the harmful ageing of the spirit.

It recovers the opposing energies, the opposing sides, and the incompatible desires, the (allied) passions to which we have not given space.

Even in the torturing experience of limitation, God wants to reach out to our variegated seed, so that it does not allow itself to be despoiled - not even by the dismay of having drawn the morsel together and having been the traitor.

Nothing is crippling.

There is only one toxic, chronic sphere of death, which annihilates everything and has no active germs in it: that which obscures and detests primary change.

There the horizon narrows and all that remains is a chasm - or the blandness that infects to make us give up, and relentlessly retreat, deny and regress again.

All that remains are the fears, the half-choices, the neuroses silenced by the compromise that attempts to fill the precious sense of emptiness.

We are faced with a Lord reduced to nothing, so that we too can understand ourselves in our defections; in the episodes in which we camp useless and deviant contrivances, all measured, that fatigue in vain.

The story of the incomprehensible loneliness of Christ alongside the traitor and the renegade is written in our hearts.

It is all reality, but for salvation, for renewed intimacy and conviction.

The missionary vocation is extinguished and stagnates only by ballast of calculation and common mentality - where the naked poverty of the discordant being that we are does not shake (nor tinkle).

Without the abandonment undergone, man does not become universal, rather he tends to attenuate the best instruments of God's power.

On that steppe terrain He is giving us the friendship of a shift in our gaze.

Without the restlessness of deep and humiliating upheaval - without the surrender of one's humanity in extreme weakness - our unsatisfied puppet lingers, content.

Despite its admiration for values, it too becomes a residual larva. A caricature of the being we could be: women and men with a contemplative eye.

Completed from within, like Jesus.

To internalise and live the message:

What do I draw when the Lord asks me to risk?

What do unfriendly gestures, and rejection, in paradoxical outcomes mean to you?

To love is to create: Glory turning the page

Commandment Liberation. Cause Source

(Jn 13:31-35)

Mutual union is the Lord's ultimate will. Jesus entrusts his testament to the disciples with a radical novelty.

Love for one's neighbour was already among the ancient prescriptions, and Christ seems to trace its very formulation (Lev 19:18).

But the Son of God does not only allude to compatriots and proselytes of the same religion. He breaks down barriers hitherto considered obvious. 

Yet the great novelty is in the fundamental motivation.

Mutual love is on the same line as the encounter with oneself - where by grace and vocation lurks a possession of riches, growing perfections, that want to surface.

From such a treasure chest, knowledge, solid platform, arises the afflatus of being able to give life: but to increase it, make it full and cheer it up - not from external conditioning and tasks to be performed or exploited.

In fact, the commandment is 'new' not only because it is edifying and stimulating, but first and foremost because it reveals one's vocation and the intimate life of God, the relationship between the Father and the Son, assumed.

It is a manifestative bond, which becomes a foundation, a growing motive and a driving force; lucid energy, which gives us the ability to shift our gaze and turn the page: it ushers in a new age, a new kingdom.

The "new" commandment of love - Christ's only delivery - is the figure of the Easter victory, theophany and testimony of his authentic people: "not with measure" (Jn 3:31-36: 34).

The "without measure" is that of the mystical wedding between the two "natures", of the intimate friendship that penetrates the life of the Father.

Even in the waiting, the boundlessness vivifies existence and fulfils it, coming from the experience of substance and vertigo - already in itself.

It is the life of the Son in us: perception of a constitutive 'being'. Therefore without losing interest in the time of absence.

And of being able to change; intuition of a different (irreducible) "glory" with special characteristics.

Now the morality of religions no longer applies: ours is a vocational and paschal ethics, in the Spirit that renews the face of the earth.

Every purpose, every role, every ministry, is illuminated by the victory of life over death.

In this way, behaviour is configured to the Mystery.

We live in Christ, the new man: we are no longer under 'proper' duties and prescriptions. The baptismal attitude cannot be measured.

The anointing and the call received respond to the intimate passion, the sense of reciprocity and personal fullness, which transcend.

Thus they move eminent goals: in participation in the fullness of life, excess that cannot be assimilated to conformism and average horizons.

For a pious Israelite to have glory is to give specific weight to one's existence, and to reveal its full value - but in an elective sense.

"Was it true glory?" - Manzoni asks himself: from glory-vain and vain it rolls down. Quite another glory as the real Presence of God.

Here are the disagreements between community and humanity (persons in fullness); liturgy and reality, prayer and listening, theology and life, proclamations and behind the scenes.

While the Synoptics proclaim universal love, the author of the Fourth Gospel is concerned that the unexpressed testimony of the children is not a blatant denial of the holiness preached to others [by the 'elect'].

As Paul VI said: 'Contemporary man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers'. Not only for an appropriate and due evaluation of moral coherence, but because they refer to the Mystery, to divine Gold.

Only if we are placed on the same wave of beauty and fascination as the "Son of Man" do we contribute to not letting it fade away or exclude it: the more human we are without duplicity, the more Heaven is manifested within us.

Of course, it seems impossible to love "like" Him (v.34), but here the Greek expression has another way of reading it. The original term does not merely indicate an ideal horizon or the lofty measure - unattainable by effort.

"Kathòs" [adverb and conjunction] is endowed with generative as well as comparative value.

The key expression of the passage can be understood as: "Love one another because I have loved you unconditionally" or "Because I have loved you unconditionally, on such a wave of life, you can now love one another".

It means: making one's neighbour feel already enabled - adequate and free - is the only unreduced mark of faith in Christ.

In short, the Father is not the God of prescriptions: he does not absorb our energies, but generates and dilates them.

He does not pretend to suffocate and exhaust us.

The badge, the emblem of the full witness of children and outspoken communities is not its own production.

It retains an indestructible quality of elasticity and relationship that does not dismay, nor does it drop arms: it gives breath.

It is not the work of fanatical pro- and anti-subversives, nor of a devout individualism that preaches the 'salvation of one's own soul' - an exasperation of religious piety and the pedestrian retributive morality of 'merits'.

It is the unfolding of the action of the Son of Man (v. 31) that empowers the downtrodden and petty.

The Master is not content to be a gregarious follower, like the heterodox Judas, a zealous apostle in appearance.

"Son of man" indicates Jesus who manifests the Father, the man who makes manifest the divine condition.The Person who in his human fullness reflects the wholesome design of the Origins - possibility for all reborn in Christ.

The carnal feeling is in a hurry to regulate itself on the basis of goals and titles; of achievements and success, or of the beloved's perfections and prestige. 

It sets boundaries.

Divine Love (and that of children) is disproportionate, it has a different conduct: it prevents, it recovers; it does not break understanding, it helps.

Non-wandering Love knows the small, the uncertain and the weak. It knows that they only grow through the experience of the Gift, otherwise they get stuck.

If the Free does not supplant merit, no one grows stronger; on the contrary, all - even the energetic - shrink. Condemned to an external cloak of norms and doctrines, or of disembodied abstractions and sophistications.

That is why the 'Son of Man' - the genuine and full development of the divine plan for mankind - is not hindered by public sinners, but by those who suppose of themselves and would have the ministry of making it known!

Divine glory has nothing to do with uniforms, coats, cockades or epidermal badges; it is manifested in the Communion without prior interdictions, in the service that is rendered to the inadequate and unmanifested - from which to hope for zero.

Nothing that can then be supplemented by adding a little something - a mere 'completion' - to the norms of the First Covenant [which did not insist on God-likeness but on mass obedience].

Fundamentalist inclinations, or circumstantial and à la page manners, the lust for worldly prestige - in reality - divide.

The conviviality of differences encompasses, dilates, accentuates the amalgam and unites, enriching. It opens to the unusual and unimaginable.

Founders of religions propose a worldview and are static models of behaviour.

They do not propose a growing offer (Jn 14:12: "greater works"). Widely personal invitations - deep and sharp, more so than their own.

Jesus is not a predictable 'model' to be imitated.

He is above all - we repeat - a Motive and an Engine: let us love like and because Christ. Living by Him, each one.

We risk everything because we are within an Event that we have seen, within a Relationship that not only persuades, but leads us and generates beyond; not in a downward spiral.

We are no longer under a Law that appoints God by obligation, but in the challenge of a gesture that re-creates and gradually fulfils, making our weakness strong.

So much so that the shadow sides become resources and amazement. All without depersonalising; on the contrary, emphasising uniqueness.

This is the 'new' commandment.

"Kainòs" is a Greek term that marks difference, eclipses the rest - in the sense that it sums up, surpasses and replaces. It supersedes all commandments: obvious and conditional.

And there will not be a better one, because our hope is not Heaven (ready), but Heaven on earth.

More than the too far of the old final Paradise with invariable fare and predictable fulfilment. Modic, conformist, sectoral; even there articulated according to roles.

And pyramidal.

Do not be afraid to swim against the tide in order to meet Jesus, to direct your attention upwards to meet his gaze. The “logo” of my Pastoral Visit portrays the scene of Mark delivering the Gospel to Peter, taken from a mosaic in this basilica. Today, symbolically, I come to redeliver the Gospel to you, the spiritual children of St Mark, in order to strengthen you in the faith and encourage you in the face of the challenges of the present time. Move ahead with confidence on the path of the new evangelization, in loving service to the poor and with courageous testimony in the various social realities. Be aware that you bear a message meant for every man and for the whole man; a message of faith, of hope and of love [...].

Dear friends, the mission of the Church bears fruit because Christ is truly present among us in a quite special way in the Holy Eucharist. His is a dynamic presence which grasps us in order to make us his, to liken us to him. Christ draws us to himself, he brings us out of ourselves to make us all one with him. In this way he also inserts us into the community of brothers and sisters: communion with the Lord is always also communion with others. 

For this reason our spiritual life depends essentially on the Eucharist. Without it, faith and hope are extinguished, love cools.

[Pope Benedict, Assembly for the Closing of the Pastoral Visit Venice 8 May 2011]

5. Together with all Christ's disciples, the Catholic Church bases upon God's plan her ecumenical commitment to gather all Christians into unity. Indeed, "the Church is not a reality closed in on herself. Rather, she is permanently open to missionary and ecumenical endeavour, for she is sent to the world to announce and witness, to make present and spread the mystery of communion which is essential to her, and to gather all people and all things into Christ, so as to be for all an 'inseparable sacrament of unity' ".

Already in the Old Testament, the Prophet Ezekiel, referring to the situation of God's People at that time, and using the simple sign of two broken sticks which are first divided and then joined together, expressed the divine will to "gather from all sides" the members of his scattered people. "I will be their God, and they shall be my people. Then the nations will know that I the Lord sanctify Israel" (cf. 37:16-28). The Gospel of John, for its part, considering the situation of the People of God at the time it was written, sees in Jesus' death the reason for the unity of God's children: "Jesus would die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad" (11:51-52). Indeed, as the Letter to the Ephesians explains, Jesus "broke down the dividing wall of hostility ... through the Cross, thereby bringing the hostility to an end"; in place of what was divided he brought about unity (cf. 2:14-16).

6. The unity of all divided humanity is the will of God. For this reason he sent his Son, so that by dying and rising for us he might bestow on us the Spirit of love. On the eve of his sacrifice on the Cross, Jesus himself prayed to the Father for his disciples and for all those who believe in him, that theymight be one, a living communion. This is the basis not only of the duty, but also of the responsibility before God and his plan, which falls to those who through Baptism become members of the Body of Christ, a Body in which the fullness of reconciliation and communion must be made present. How is it possible to remain divided, if we have been "buried" through Baptism in the Lord's death, in the very act by which God, through the death of his Son, has broken down the walls of division? Division "openly contradicts the will of Christ, provides a stumbling block to the world, and inflicts damage on the most holy cause of proclaiming the Good News to every creature". 

[Ut Unum sint]

The Christian does not walk alone: he is embedded in a people, in a secular history and is called to put himself at the service of others. 'Memory' and 'service' are the key words of Pope Francis' reflection during the Mass celebrated at Santa Marta on Thursday 30 April. History - and therefore the memory one has of it - and service are, the Pontiff said, the "two traits of the Christian's identity" on which "today's liturgy" makes us reflect.

The reference is given by the passage from the Acts of the Apostles (13:13-25) in which we read that Paul, on arriving in Antioch, "as he usually did, went on the Sabbath to the synagogue" and there "was invited to speak". This was, in fact, "a custom of the Jews of that time" when a guest arrived. Having taken the floor, Paul 'began to preach Jesus Christ'. But, the Pope stressed, 'he did not say: "I preach Jesus Christ, the Saviour; he came from Heaven; God sent him; he saved us all and gave us this revelation. No, no, no'. To explain who Jesus is, the apostle "begins to tell the whole story of the people. We then read in Scripture: "Paul stood up and beckoned with his hand and said, 'Listen, the God of this people of Israel chose our fathers...'". And, starting with Abraham, Paul "tells the whole story".

It is not a random choice. In his reflection, Francis pointed out how the same thing was done by 'Peter in his speeches, after Pentecost', and also 'Stephen, before the Sanhedrin'. They, that is, "did not announce a Jesus without history", but "Jesus in the history of the people, a people that God has been making walk for centuries to arrive at this maturity, at the fullness of time, as Paul says". From this account we understand that "when this people arrives at the fullness of time, the Saviour comes, and the people continues to walk because this Saviour will return".

Here, then, the Pope reiterated, is one of the traits of Christian identity: 'it is to be a man and woman of history, to understand that history does not begin with me and ends with me'. Everything began, in fact, when the Lord entered history.

To comfort this, the Pontiff recalled the "very beautiful" psalm recited at the beginning of the Mass: "When you advanced Lord with your people and when you opened the way for them and dwelt with them - I remember that God walked with his people - the earth trembled, the heavens shouted. Admirable'. So 'the Christian is a man and woman of history, because he or she does not belong to himself or herself, he or she is part of a people, a walking people'. Hence the impossibility of thinking of 'a Christian egoism'. In other words, there is no perfect Christian, 'a laboratory spiritual man or woman', but always a spiritual man or woman inserted 'in a people, which has a long history and continues to walk until the Lord returns'.

Looking precisely at this concrete story that has unfolded over the centuries and continues to this day, the Pontiff added that if we assume "to be men and women of history", we also realise that this is "a story of God's grace, because God advanced with his people, opened the way, lived with them". But it is also 'history of sin'. And the Pope recalled: 'How many sinners, how many crimes...'. Also in the passage from the Acts of the Apostles, for example, 'Paul mentions King David, who was holy', but who 'before becoming holy was a great sinner'. And this, he emphasised, is true 'also today' when everyone's 'personal history' must take on 'their sin and the grace of the Lord who is with us'. For God accompanies us in sin 'to forgive', accompanies us 'in grace'.

It is therefore a very concrete reality that spans the centuries, the one recalled by Francis in his homily: "We," he said, "are not rootless", we have "deep roots" that we must never forget and that go from "our father Abraham to today".

Understanding, however, that we are not alone, that we are closely linked to a people that has been walking for centuries, also means understanding another characteristic trait of the Christian and that is "what Jesus teaches us in the Gospel: service". In the passage from John proposed by the liturgy on Thursday of the fourth week of Easter, "Jesus washes the disciples' feet. And after he had washed their feet, he said to them, 'Truly, truly I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a sent one greater than he who sent him. Knowing these things, you are blessed if you put them into practice. I have done this with you, you do the same with others. I have come to you as a servant, you must make yourselves servants of one another, serve''.

It is clear, the Pontiff pointed out, that 'Christian identity is service, not selfishness'. Someone, he said, might retort: 'But Father, we are all selfish', but this 'is a sin, it is a habit from which we must detach ourselves'; we must then 'ask for forgiveness, may the Lord convert us'. Being a Christian, in fact, 'is not an appearance or even a social conduct, it is not a bit of making up one's soul, so that it may be a bit more beautiful'. To be a Christian, the Pope said decisively, "is to do what Jesus did: to serve. He came not to be served, but to serve'.

Hence some of the Pontiff's suggestions for the daily life of each of us. First of all, "think about these two things: do I have a sense of history? Do I feel part of a people walking from afar?". Useful might be 'to take the Bible, the Book of Deuteronomy, chapter 26, and read it'. Here, he said, one encounters "the memory, the memory of the righteous" and "how the Lord wants us to be 'mindful'", that is, to remember "the path our people walked". It is also good for us to think: "in my heart, what more do I do? Do I let others serve me, do I serve others, the community, the parish, my family, my friends, or do I serve, am I in service'?

"Memory and service", then, are the two attitudes of the Christian, those with which one also participates in the Eucharistic celebration "which is precisely memory of the service that Jesus did; real memory, with Him, of the service He rendered us: giving His life for us."

[Pope Francis, S. Marta homily in L'Osservatore Romano 01/05/2015]

Fourth Easter Sunday (year A)  [26 April 2026]

First Reading from the Acts of the Apostles (2:14a, 36–41)

The account of Peter’s speech in Jerusalem on the morning of Pentecost continues, and since he is now filled with the Holy Spirit, he reads, as it were, an open book in God’s plan. Everything appears clear to him; he recalls the prophet Joel who had announced: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh” (Joel 2:28), and it is evident to him that we are at the dawn of the fulfilment of this promise. Through Jesus, rejected and put to death by men, yet raised and exalted by God, the Spirit has been poured out upon all flesh, and Jewish pilgrims from every corner of the Roman Empire have come to celebrate the feast of Pentecost, the feast of the gift of the Law. During their journey and even upon arriving at the Temple in Jerusalem, the pilgrims sang psalms and implored God for the coming of the Messiah. Peter sought to open their eyes: the Messiah of whom you speak is that Jesus whom you have crucified, and when he declares Jesus to be Lord and Messiah, the Christ, these statements of his certainly seem very bold. If the man from Nazareth is the expected Messiah, this means that all the hope of Israel rests upon Jesus. Peter’s listeners were struck to the heart, says Luke, and Peter certainly knew how to touch their hearts. What must we do, they ask themselves? The answer is simple: repent to save yourselves from this perverse generation, and to repent, in biblical language, is precisely to turn around, to make a U-turn. There are two paths before us, and we often take the wrong one: we must then return to the right path. Peter makes a simple observation: the generation living at the time of Christ and the apostles was faced with a real challenge, namely to recognise in Jesus the Messiah awaited for centuries. Unfortunately, however, Jesus did not possess the characteristics or fulfil the hopes placed in the Messiah, who was imagined as the liberator of the Jewish people; thus, an error of judgement was made and the path was lost. For this reason, Peter calls on everyone to be converted and invites them to receive Baptism: be baptised in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit promised to you, to your children, and to all those who are far off, whom our Lord God will call. Furthermore, for Jews familiar with the study of the Scriptures, Peter recalls the prophecy of Joel – ‘I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh’ – just as his words echo those of the prophet Isaiah concerning the peace and covenant desired by God with the people of Israel (cf. Is 49:1; 57:19). It was precisely through this Covenant that Israel felt bound to God: they were the chosen people, the son, as the prophet Hosea says (11:1), whilst other peoples seemed far from God. When Isaiah then states that peace is also for those who are far away, he recalls that the chosen people have a mission of peace for all humanity, called to enter into what might be called God’s plan of peace. The author notes that on that day three thousand were baptised. He adds that the three thousand Jews who had become Christians were among those whom Peter called ‘neighbours’. Little by little, throughout the Book of Acts, even those who were far off will join those ‘called’ by God. To them, St Paul will say, in his letter to the Ephesians: you who were once far off have now become neighbours through the blood of Christ. And it is Christ, our peace, for ‘of the two, the Jew and the Gentile’, he has made one (Eph 2:14–18).

Responsorial Psalm (22/23)

We encountered Psalm 22/23 on the Fourth Sunday of Lent.  At the time, I emphasised three points in my commentary: first, the psalms speak of Israel as a whole, even though the speaker uses the first person singular, saying ‘I’; second, to describe its religious experience, Israel uses two comparisons: that of the Levite who finds joy in dwelling in the House of God, and that of the pilgrim who takes part in the sacred meal following the thanksgiving sacrifices. However, one must read between the lines to see that, through these two comparisons, the chosen people feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for God’s gratuitous Covenant. Thirdly, the early Christians recognised in this psalm the privilege of their own experience as the baptised, and Psalm 22/23 became, in the early Church, the hymn for the celebration of Baptism. I shall simply pause at the first verse: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” There are many references in the Bible. The prophet Micah prays thus: Lord, with your staff be the shepherd of your people, the flock that belongs to you, so that the people may perceive themselves as God’s inheritance (cf. Mic 7:14). In Psalm 15/16, however, we find the inverse expression: ‘Lord, my portion and my cup; you determine my lot; the portion that falls to me brings me joy; I truly have the finest inheritance.’ When God is compared to a shepherd and Israel to his flock, one dares to think that the chosen people are a treasure to their God, which is a bold notion, and the use of such language is an invitation to trust, for God is portrayed as a good shepherd—that is, the one who gathers, guides, nourishes, cares for, protects and defends his flock, watching over all its needs. The prophet Micah writes that God will gather together all the remnant of Israel (cf. 2:12), and bring them together as a flock, gathering the lame and the scattered sheep. Zephaniah takes up the same theme: I will save the lame sheep (cf. 3:19), I will gather those who are scattered, which means that whenever we sow division, we are working against God. God, the attentive shepherd, shepherd-guide and defender of his flock. We find this frequently in the Psalms, particularly in Psalm 94/95, which is the daily morning prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours, where we read: ‘We are the people he leads, the flock guided by his hand’. In Psalm 77/78 we read that, like a shepherd, God leads his people, drives his flock into the desert, guides them, defends them, reassures them, and Psalm 79/80 begins with an appeal: “Shepherd of Israel: listen, you who lead Joseph, your flock, reveal your strength and come to save us”. It is clear that in difficult times, when the flock—that is, Israel—feels ill-guided, abandoned, mistreated or, worse still, beaten down, the prophets often turn to the image of the good shepherd to restore hope. It is therefore no surprise to find this theme in Second Isaiah, in the Book of the Consolation of Israel: God, like a shepherd, tends his flock; his arm gathers the lambs, carries them close to his heart, and leads the nursing ewes (cf. 40:11), so that along the roads they may still graze; on the barren heights shall be their pastures; they shall neither hunger nor thirst; the scorching wind and the sun shall no longer strike them, for he, full of compassion, will guide them, lead them to living waters (cf. Is. 49:9–10). Finally, Ezekiel also takes up this theme, saying that thus says the Lord God: “I myself will tend my sheep and search for them, just as a shepherd searches for his flock when he is among his scattered sheep; so I will search for my sheep and rescue them from all the places where they were scattered on a day of clouds and thick fog; I will feed them on the mountains of Israel, in the valleys and in all the best places. I will feed them in good pasture, and their grazing grounds will be on the highlands of Israel; there my sheep will lie down in lush pastures and graze in rich pastures. ‘On the mountains of Israel, I myself will tend my flock and let them rest,’ declares the Lord God. ‘The lost sheep I will seek out; the strayed I will bring back; the injured I will bind up; the sick I will strengthen’ (cf. 34:11–16).  Today, in turn, we sing this Psalm 22/23, knowing that Jesus presented himself as the shepherd of the lost sheep, inviting us to place our trust in the tenderness of God the Shepherd. In a time like ours, when our societies are going through days of clouds and gloom, we are invited to contemplate the image of the Good Shepherd and to renew our trust: God, the true Good Shepherd, never abandons us. 

Second Reading from the First Letter of Saint Peter the Apostle (2:20b–25)

Saint Peter addresses a particular social group, slaves, because slavery still existed at that time and, under Roman law, a slave was at the mercy of his master, an object in his hands. It therefore happened that slaves suffered mistreatment at the whim of their masters, and a Christian slave serving a non-Christian master was exposed to even harsher oppression. Peter essentially encourages us to imitate Christ, who was himself a ‘slave out of love’ (cf. Phil 2:7) and who devoted his entire life to the service of all people. How, then, did he behave? When insulted, he did not respond with insults; when made to suffer, he did not threaten, but entrusted himself to the One who judges justly. Saint Peter urges us to endure suffering even when doing good, knowing that it is a grace in God’s eyes to be able to behave like Christ when facing trials. Certainly there is no Christian vocation to suffering, but in suffering there is a call to behave according to the example of Christ. So it is not suffering for the sake of suffering, but imitating Christ, who himself suffered by taking our sins upon himself on the wood of the cross, so that, having died to sin, we might live for righteousness. For by his wounds we have been healed. God has saved us so that we may live for righteousness. We have been healed of our wounds, which are our inability to love and to give, to forgive, to share. Because of original sin, we were far from God and disoriented, wandering like sheep. In Christ, crucified for our sins, we have regained fidelity to God’s plan, and his wounds have healed us. Christ died to bear witness to the truth, remaining faithful to the Father even on the cross. The cross, a place of utter horror and unbridled human hatred, has become the throne of absolute love. In Jesus’ forgiveness of his executioners, we are given the chance to contemplate and believe in God’s love for humanity, revealed in the cross, which can transform and convert us.  The prophet Zechariah reminds us: “They will look upon him whom they have pierced” (cf. 12:10), and this heals us, saves us—that is, it makes us capable once more of loving and forgiving as Christ did. When we allow ourselves to be moved by this absolute love of God, our hearts of stone become hearts of flesh, capable of living as he did. Let us allow ourselves to be transformed by this contagion of mercy so that Christ may continue, through us too, the work of transforming all humanity: He continues to send out disciples “like lambs among wolves” (cf. Lk 10:3; Mt 10:16) so that, following in his footsteps, we may be witnesses everywhere to God’s infinite mercy.  

From the Gospel according to Saint John (10:1-10)

The coherence of this Sunday’s biblical readings is truly evident, for the psalm, the second reading and the Gospel lead us into a sheepfold. The psalm compares God’s relationship with Israel to a shepherd’s care for his flock: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want; he makes me lie down in green pastures”; in the second reading, Saint Peter speaks of people like lost, wandering sheep, invited to return “to your shepherd, the guardian of your souls”. Here, in the Gospel, we read a passage from the long discourse on the Good Shepherd and a sheepfold. To understand it, we must make the effort to imagine the landscape of the Near East, where the flock is gathered for the night in a well-guarded enclosure and in the morning the shepherd comes to release the sheep to lead them to pasture: a scene very familiar to Jesus’ listeners at the time, firstly because there were many flocks in Israel, and secondly because the Old Testament prophets had taken to comparing God’s relationship with his people to that of a shepherd caring for his flock. In the responsorial psalm we have just heard some passages on this subject, and I would add a reference to the prophet Isaiah, who emphasises God’s care for his people: full of compassion, he ‘will lead them to springs of water’ (49:9–10). Furthermore, it was said of the future Messiah that he would be a shepherd for Israel, but at the same time the prophets never ceased to warn against false shepherds, a real danger to the sheep, and a matter of life and death for the flock. Jesus, in turn, takes up precisely this same theme, highlighting the shepherd’s care for his sheep and the danger of false shepherds—a subject he revisits in this Sunday’s Gospel in the form of two brief, successive parables: that of the shepherd, followed by that of the gate. It is interesting that he takes care to introduce both with the solemn formula ‘Truly, truly, I say to you’, an expression that always introduces something new. But if the theme of the shepherd was well known, where is the novelty? On the other hand, John specifies that these two parables are addressed to the Pharisees: Jesus tells the first, but, as he notes, they did not understand what Jesus meant to say to them, so Jesus continues with the second. The Pharisees did not understand the first, or did not want to understand it, perhaps simply because, quite clearly, Jesus suggests that he himself is this good shepherd capable of bringing happiness to his people, and they suddenly find themselves demoted to the rank of bad shepherds. Is it not that they understood perfectly well what Jesus meant, but could not accept it because that would be to admit that this Galilean is the Messiah, the One sent by God? Jesus bears no resemblance whatsoever to the image they had of him, and this is perhaps why Jesus took care to say, ‘Truly, truly, I say to you’. When he begins a discourse with this opening, one must pay particular attention, for it is equivalent to idiomatic expressions frequently found in the prophets of the Old Testament. Indeed, when the Spirit of God breathes into them words that are hard to understand or accept, the prophets always take care to begin—and sometimes end—their preaching with phrases such as ‘the word of the Lord’ or ‘thus says the Lord’. Although they knew this and were therefore aware that Jesus was speaking of matters of great importance, the Pharisees did not understand or did not wish to understand; nevertheless, Jesus persists, and John helps us to understand this deliberate insistence by noting that “then Jesus said again”. Here we see all of Jesus’ patience, as he tries in every way to convince his listeners: “Truly, truly, I say to you: I am the gate for the sheep” and whoever enters through me will be saved. Different ways to help them understand that he is the Messiah, the Saviour, and that only through him does the flock gain access to true life, life in abundance. We can draw one final lesson from this Gospel: Jesus says that the sheep follow the shepherd because they know his voice, and behind this image, we can discern a reality of the life of faith: our contemporaries will not follow Christ, will not be his disciples, if we do not make the voice of Christ resound, if we do not make the Word of God known. Is this not, once again, Jesus’ heartfelt appeal to make the sound of his voice heard by every means possible? 

+Giovanni D’Ercole

Scientists and Lowlies: abstract world and incarnation

(Mt 11:25-30)

The leaders looked at religiosity with a view to interest. Professors of theology were accustomed to evaluate every comma on the basis of their own knowledge, ridiculous but supponent - unrelated to real events.

That which remains tied to customs and the usual protagonists does not make one dream, it is not an apparition and astonishing testimony of Elsewhere; it detracts expressive richness of the announcement and life.

The Lord rejoices in his own experience, which brings a non-epidermal joy and a teaching from the Spirit - about those who are well disposed, and able to understand the depths of the Kingdom, in ordinary things.

In short, after an initial moment of enthusiastic crowds, the Christ delves deeper into the themes and finds himself all against, except God and the least ones: the weightlesses, but eager to start from scratch.

Glimpse of the Mystery that leavens history - without making it a possession.

At first even Jesus is stunned by the rejection of those who considered themselves already satisfied and no longer expected anything that could overcome habits.

Then He understands, praises and blesses the Father's plan: the authentic Person is born from the gutter, and possesses «the sense of neighborhood» (FT n.152).

The Creator is simple Relationship: He demystifies the idol of greatness.

The Eternal One is not the master of creation: He is Refreshment that reassures, because makes us feel complete and lovable. He seeks us out, He pays attention to the language of the heart.

He is Custodian of the world, even of the unlearned ones - of the «infants»  (v.25) spontaneously empty of boastful spirit, that is, of those who do not remain closed in their sufficient belonging.

Thus the Father-Son bond is communicated to God’s poor: those who are endowed with the attitude of family members (v.27).

Insignificant and invisible without great external capacities, but who abandon themselves to the proposals of the provident life that comes, like babies in the arms of parents.

In this way, with a pietas’ Spirit that favours those who allow themselves to be filled with innate wisdom.

The only reality that corresponds to us and does not present the "bill": it does not proceed along the paths of functional thinking, of calculating initiative.

Sapience that transmits freshness in the readiness to personally receive, welcome, re-temper the Truth as a Gift, and the spontaneous enthusiasm itself, capable of realizing it.

A simple blessing prayer, for the simple ones - this of Jesus (v.25) - which makes us grow in esteem, fits perfectly with our experience, and gets along well with ourselves.

The new ones, the nullities, the voiceless and invisible do not think in terms of doctrine and laws [vv.29-30: unbearable "yoke" that crushes people, and concrete, particular vocations] but in terms of life and humanity.

Thus they enrich the fundamental and spontaneous experience of Faith-Love, satisfying, fulfilling it without mannerisms or intimate forcing.

While the exteriority of the pyramidal world, the distrust of those who want “to count", the anxiety of a competitive society, impoverish the gaze and contaminate the vital wave.

We, too, do not appreciate too much the energy of the 'models', nor the aggressive power of the “big guys”.

Rather than only with the “big” and external, we wish to live by Communion - even with the 'small' self, or there will be no loveliness, no authentic life.

To internalize and live the message:

What do you feel when you are told: «You don't count»? 

Does it remain a humiliating contempt or do you consider it a great Light received, as Jesus did

[St Catherine of Siena, April 29]