1. From the earliest times, Christian tradition has paid particular attention to women who, having lost their husbands, were left alone in life, often in need and defenceless. Even in the Old Testament, widows were often mentioned because of their plight and were entrusted to the caring attention of the community and, in particular, of those responsible for the law (cf. Ex 22:21; Dt 10:18; 24:17; 26:12; 27:19).

 The Gospels, the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles are permeated by a spirit of charity towards widows. Jesus repeatedly shows thoughtful concern for them. For example, he publicly praises the offering made by a poor widow for the Temple (cf. Lk 21:3; Mk 12:43); he is moved with compassion at the sight of the widow in Nain accompanying her dead son to his burial, approaches her to say gently: “Do not weep”, and then returns the resurrected boy to her (cf. Lk 7:11–15). The Gospel also conveys to us the memory of Jesus’ words on the “need to pray always, without growing weary”, taking as an example the widow who, through the persistence of her pleas, obtains justice from the dishonest judge (cf. Lk 18:5); and those other words with which Jesus severely condemns the scribes who “devour widows’ houses” whilst hypocritically displaying long prayers (cf. Mk 12:40; Lk 20:47).

This attitude of Christ, which fulfils the true spirit of the Old Covenant, lies at the root of the pastoral exhortations of Saint Paul and Saint James regarding spiritual and charitable assistance to widows: “Honour widows” (1 Tim 5:3); “Pure and undefiled religion before God our Father is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress . . .” (Jas 1:27).

2. Yet within the Christian community, widows were not merely recipients of assistance; they also played an active role, almost as a specific participation in the universal vocation of Christ’s disciples to a life of prayer.

Indeed, the First Letter to Timothy indicates that a fundamental task entrusted to women who had been widowed was to devote themselves “to prayer and supplication day and night” (1 Tim 5:5). The Gospel of Luke presents us with a model of a holy widow in the person of “Anna, daughter of Phanuel”, who was widowed after only seven years of marriage. She, the Evangelist reports, “never left the temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer” (Lk 2:36–37). She had the great joy of being in the temple at the time of the presentation of the infant Jesus. In their affliction, widows can and must similarly count on precious graces of the spiritual life, to which they are invited to respond generously.

3. Within the pastoral and spiritual framework of the Christian community, there was also a ‘register’ in which a widow could be enrolled who, to use the words of the Letter just cited, ‘is not less than sixty years of age [that is, an elderly woman], has been married only once, and is known for her good works: that is, she has raised children, practised hospitality, washed the feet of the saints [an ancient rite of hospitality, adopted by Christianity], come to the aid of the afflicted, and performed every good work . . .” (1 Tim 5:9–10).

The early Church offers, in this, an example of charitable solidarity (cf. Acts 6:1), which we find in many other moments of Christian history, especially when, for social, political, war-related, epidemic or other reasons, the phenomenon of widowhood or other forms of loneliness took on worrying proportions. The Church’s charity could not remain inactive.

Today there are many other cases of lonely people, towards whom the Church cannot fail to be sensitive and solicitous. First of all, there is the category of the ‘separated’ and the ‘divorced’, to whom I devoted particular attention in the Apostolic Exhortation Familiaris consortio (cf. John Paul II, Familiaris consortio, n. 83). Then there are the “unmarried mothers”, exposed to particular difficulties of a moral, economic and social nature. To all these people I would like to say that, whatever their personal responsibility in the tragedy in which they find themselves involved, they continue to be part of the Church. The Pastors, sharing in their trial, do not abandon them to their own devices, but instead wish to do everything possible to help them, comfort them, and make them feel still bound to the fold of Christ.

The Church, even when she cannot give rise to practices that would be at odds with the demands of truth and with the very common good of families and society, never ceases to love, to understand, and to stand by all those who are in difficulty. The Church feels particularly close to those who, having a broken marriage behind them, persevere in fidelity by renouncing another union, and devote themselves, as far as they can, to the upbringing of their children. They deserve support and encouragement from everyone. The Church and the Pope cannot but praise them for their fine witness of Christian consistency, lived generously in the face of trial.

4. But since this catechesis is dedicated, like the others in the series we are presenting, to the lay apostolate in the Church, I would also like to mention here the large number of single people, and especially widows and widowers, who, being less burdened by family obligations, have voluntarily dedicated themselves to the development of Christian activities in parishes or in wider-reaching works. Their lives are thus raised to a higher participation in ecclesial life, as the fruit of a higher degree of love. From this springs, for the Church and for humanity, the benefit of a more generous dedication on the part of people who thus find a way to achieve a higher quality of life, fully expressing themselves in the service rendered to their brothers and sisters.

5. We conclude, therefore, by reiterating what we read in the Second Vatican Council, namely that the example of charitable love is set not only by Christian spouses and parents, but “is offered in another way by widows and single women, who too can contribute greatly to holiness and activity within the Church” (Lumen gentium, 41). Whatever the origin of their state of life, many of these people can recognise the higher plan of divine wisdom which guides their existence and leads it to holiness on the way of the Cross; a Cross which, in their circumstances, proves particularly fruitful.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience, 10 August 1994]

This […] Gospel passage is composed of two parts: one that describes how not to be followers of Christ; the other offers an example of a Christian. 

Let’s start with the first: what not to do. In the first part, Jesus accuses the scribes, the teachers of the law, of having three defects in their lifestyle: pride, greed and hypocrisy. They like “to have salutations in the market places and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts” (Mk 12:38-39). But beneath such solemn appearances they are hiding falsehood and injustice.

While flaunting themselves in public, they use their authority — as Jesus says — to devour “the houses of widows” (cf. v. 40); those who, along with orphans and foreigners, were considered to be the people most vulnerable and least protected. Lastly, Jesus says that the scribes, “for a pretence make long prayers” (v. 40). Even today we risk taking on these attitudes. For example, when prayer is separate from justice so that God cannot be worshiped, and causing harm to the poor. Or when one claims to love God, but instead offers him only grandiosity for one’s own advantage.

The second part of the Gospel follows this line of thinking. The scene is set in the temple of Jerusalem, precisely in the place where people are tossing coins as offerings. There are many rich people putting in large sums, and there is a poor woman, a widow, who contributes only two bits, two small coins. Jesus observes the woman carefully and calls the disciples’ attention to the sharp contrast of the scene.

The wealthy contributed with great ostentation what for them was superfluous, while the widow, Jesus says, “put in everything she had, her whole living” (v. 44). For this reason, Jesus says, she gave the most of all. Because of her extreme poverty, she could have offered a single coin to the temple and kept the other for herself. But she did not want to give just half to God; she divested herself of everything. In her poverty she understood that in having God, she had everything; she felt completely loved by him and in turn loved him completely. What a beautiful example this little old woman offers us! 

Today Jesus also tells us that the benchmark is not quantity but fullness. There is a difference between quantity and fullness. You can have a lot of money and still be empty. There is no fullness in your heart. This week, think about the difference there is between quantity and fullness. It is not a matter of the wallet, but of the heart. There is a difference between the wallet and the heart.... There are diseases of the heart, which reduce the heart to the wallet.... This is not good! To love God “with all your heart” means to trust in him, in his providence, and to serve him in the poorest brothers and sisters without expecting anything in return.

Allow me to tell you a story, which happened in my previous diocese. A mother and her three children were at the table, the father was at work. They were eating Milan-style cutlets.... There was a knock at the door and one of the children — they were young, 5, 6 and the oldest was 7 — comes and says: “Mom, there is a beggar asking for something to eat”. And the mom, a good Christian, asks them: “What shall we do?” — “Let’s give him something, mom…” – “Ok”. She takes her fork and knife and cuts the cutlets in half. “Ah no, mom, no! Not like this! Take something from the fridge” — “No! Let’s make three sandwiches with this!”. The children learned that true charity is given, not with what is left over, but with what we need. That afternoon I am sure that the children were a bit hungry.... But this is how it’s done!

Faced with the needs of our neighbours, we are called — like these children and the halved cutlets — to deprive ourselves of essential things, not only the superfluous; we are called to give the time that is necessary, not only what is extra; we are called to give immediately and unconditionally some of our talent, not after using it for our own purposes or for our own group.

Let us ask the Lord to admit us to the school of this poor widow, whom Jesus places in the cathedra and presents as a teacher of the living Gospel even to the astonishment of the disciples. Through the intercession of Mary, the poor woman who gave her entire life to God for us, let us ask for a heart that is poor, but rich in glad and freely given generosity.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 8 November 2015]

(Mk 12:35-37)

«And the large crowd listened to him gladly» (v.37). For what reason, despite the dangerous contention with the acknowledged teachers?

The scribes claimed that the Messiah was an exceptionally remarkable man, but not endowed with divine status.

It was necessary to go deeper into the common idea about the ancient Promises.

So the new Rabbi asks the official experts why king David calls him «Lord» - if he was only supposed to be his 'son'.

Everyone admitted that the Messiah would be a descendant of the prestigious ruler.

Yet, for the Master, the blood bond or the imperial dream do not exhaust the identity of the Coming One; far from it, they deflect it.

Within this horizon, we too are called to thoroughly reconsider the Person of Christ.

He is not reducible to congenial proportions - suited to a mentality, or to its external expectations.

In the divine condition that is fullness of humanization, the Risen One does not meet expectations: he exceeds them.

He is not 'son', but Lord of David - and of the soul.

The hoped-for Emmanuel - God With Us - cannot be a catalogued one.

In short, He alone gives divine meaning and depth to all that is man's [of all and every one].

By personal Faith, it is in the horizon of another - alternative - realm that hardships, sufferings and detachments make us grow.

And they can be part of a plan of Mystery that flows into Light.

Our destiny and eminent task do not at all have measures akin to framed, all-too-trivial convictions.

Only by allowing ourselves to be moulded by the all-round journey in Christ do hardships and difficulties not become enemies.

The particular pains we experience are perhaps a sign of our unfulfilled talents.

Unusual resources that we have not listened to and not yet cradled, to which we have not given space.

Encountered, recognised, integrated, invested in an unprecedented way and even different from normal or other people's intentions, these dormant energies will lead to an integral expansion of ideas and horizons, of soul and gestures.

In this way, Mystery and uncommon adventure are needed.

So when weaknesses, hardships, and even discomforts should arise, we know that they do not come to punish or chastise us, but to remind us of a fundamental side.

This, in order to make memorial-factum of an aspect of deep character, and future; archetypal and missional.

To actualize how much of ourselves we have perhaps not yet realized and brought to awareness, because overwhelmed by precisely external factors.

In spite of the gilded cage of artificial certainties all around, and comfortable routines laces, we would miss the Magic, the surprise that makes the heart leap, the decisive Encounter.

A new teaching, even for the Temple.

[Friday 9th wk. in O.T.  June 5, 2026]

Today I would like to end my catechesis on the prayer of the Book of Psalms by meditating on one of the most famous of the “royal Psalms”, a Psalm that Jesus himself cited and that the New Testament authors referred to extensively and interpreted as referring to the Messiah, to Christ. It is Psalm 110 according to the Hebrew tradition, 109 according to the Graeco-Latin one, a Psalm very dear to the ancient Church and to believers of all times. This prayer may at first have been linked to the enthronement of a Davidic king; yet its meaning exceeds the specific contingency of an historic event, opening to broader dimensions and thereby becoming a celebration of the victorious Messiah, glorified at God’s right hand.

The Psalm begins with a solemn declaration: “the Lord says to my lord ‘Sit at my right hand, till I make your enemies your footstool’” (v. 1). 

God himself enthrones the king in glory, seating him at his right, a sign of very great honour and of absolute privilege. The king is thus admitted to sharing in the divine kingship, of which he is mediator to the people. The king’s kingship is also brought into being in the victory over his adversaries whom God himself places at his feet. The victory over his enemies is the Lord’s, but the king is enabled to share in it and his triumph becomes a sign and testimony of divine power.

The royal glorification expressed at the beginning of the Psalm was adopted by the New Testament as a messianic prophecy. For this reason the verse is among those most frequently used by New Testament authors, either as an explicit quotation or as an allusion. With regard to the Messiah Jesus himself mentioned this verse in order to show that the Messiah, was greater than David, that he was David’s Lord (cf. Mt 22:41-45; Mk 12:35-37; Lk 20:41-44).

And Peter returned to it in his discourse at Pentecost, proclaiming that this enthronement of the king was brought about in the resurrection of Christ and that Christ was henceforth seated at the right hand of the Father, sharing in God’s kingship over the world (cf. Acts 2:29-35). Indeed, Christ is the enthroned Lord, the Son of Man seated at the right hand of God and coming on the clouds of heaven, as Jesus described himself during the trial before the Synedrin (cf. Mt 26:63-64; Mk 14:61-62; cf. also Lk 22:66-69). 

He is the true King who, with the Resurrection, entered into glory at the right hand of the Father (Rom 8:34; Eph 2:5; Col 3:1; Heb 8:1; 12:2), was made superior to angels, and seated in heaven above every power with every adversary at his feet, until the time when the last enemy, death, to be defeated by him once and for all (cf. 1 Cor 15:24-26; Eph 1:20-23; Heb 1:3-4; 2:5-8; 10:12-13; 1 Pet 3:22).

And we immediately understand that this king, seated at the right hand of God, who shares in his kingship is not one of those who succeeded David, but is actually the new David, the Son of God who triumphed over death and truly shares in God’s glory. He is our king, who also gives us eternal life.

Hence an indissoluble relationship exists between the king celebrated by our Psalm and God. The two of them govern together as one, so that the Psalmist can say that it is God himself who extends the sovereign’s sceptre, giving him the task of ruling over his adversaries as verse 2 says: “The Lord sends forth from Zion your mighty sceptre. Rule in the midst of your foes!”. 

The exercise of power is an office that the king receives directly from the Lord, a responsibility which he must exercise in dependence and obedience, thereby becoming a sign, within the people, of God’s powerful and provident presence. Dominion over his foes, glory and victory are gifts received that make the sovereign a mediator of the Lord’s triumph over evil. He subjugates his enemies, transforming them, he wins them over with his love.

For this reason the king’s greatness is celebrated in the following verse. In fact the interpretation of verse 3 presents some difficulty. In the original Hebrew text a reference was made to the mustering of the army to which the people generously responded, gathering round their sovereign on the day of his coronation. The Greek translation of The Septuagint that dates back to between the second and third centuries B.C. refers however to the divine sonship of the king, to his birth or begetting on the part of the Lord. This is the interpretation that has been chosen by the Church, which is why the verse reads like this: “Yours is princely power in the day of your birth, in holy splendour; before the daystar, like the dew, I have begotten you”. 

This divine oracle concerning the king would thus assert a divine procreation, steeped in splendour and mystery, a secret and inscrutable origin linked to the arcane beauty of dawn and to the miracle of dew that sparkles in the fields in the early morning light and makes them fertile. In this way, the figure of the king, indissolubly bound to the heavenly reality, who really comes from God is outlined, the Messiah who brings divine life to the people and is the mediator of holiness and salvation. Here too we see that all this is not achieved by the figure of a Davidic king but by the Lord Jesus Christ, who really comes from God; he is the light that brings divine life to the world.

The first stanza of the Psalm ends with this evocative and enigmatic image. It is followed by another oracle, which unfolds a new perspective along the lines of a priestly dimension connected with kingship. Verse 4 says: “The Lord has sworn and will not change his mind, ‘You are a priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek”.

Melchizedek was the priest-king of Salem who had blessed Abraham and offered him bread and wine after the victorious military campaign the patriarch led to rescue his nephew Lot from the hands of enemies who had captured him (cf. Gen 14). 

Royal and priestly power converge in the figure of Melchizedek. They are then proclaimed by the Lord in a declaration that promises eternity: the king celebrated in the Psalm will be a priest for ever, the mediator of the Lord’s presence among his people, the intermediary of the blessing that comes from God who, in liturgical action, responds to it with the human answer of blessing. 

The Letter to the Hebrews makes an explicit reference to this verse (cf. 5:5-6, 10; 6:19-20) focusing on it the whole of chapter seven and developing its reflection on Christ’s priesthood. Jesus, as the Letter to the Hebrews tells us in the light of Psalm 110[109], is the true and definitive priest who brings to fulfilment and perfects the features of Melchizedek’s priesthood

Melchizedek, as the Letter to the Hebrews says, was “without father or mother or genealogy” (7:3a), hence not a priest according to the dynastic rules of Levitical priesthood. Consequently he “continues a priest for ever” (7:3c), a prefiguration of Christ, the perfect High Priest who “has become a priest, not according to a legal requirement concerning bodily descent but by the power of an indestructible life” (7:16). 

In the Risen Lord Jesus who had ascended into Heaven where he is seated at the right hand of the Father the prophecy of our Psalm is fulfilled and the priesthood of Melchizedek is brought to completion. This is because, rendered absolute and eternal, it became a reality that never fades (cf. 7:24). And the offering of bread and wine made by Melchizedek in Abraham’s time is fulfilled in the Eucharistic action of Jesus who offers himself in the bread and in the wine and, having conquered death, brings life to all believers. Since he is an eternal priest, “holy, blameless, unstained” (7:26), as the Letter to the Hebrews states further, “he is able for all time to save those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them” (7:25).

After this divine pronouncement in verse 4, with its solemn oath, the scene of the Psalm changes and the poet, addressing the king directly, proclaims: “The Lord is at your right hand” (Psalm 110:5a). If in verse 1 it was the king who was seated at God’s right hand as a sign of supreme prestige and honour, the Lord now takes his place at the right of the sovereign to protect him with this shield in battle and save him from every peril. The king was safe, God is his champion and they fight together and defeat every evil.

Thus the last verses of the Psalm open with the vision of the triumphant sovereign. Supported by the Lord, having received both power and glory from him (cf. v. 2), he opposes his foes, crushing his adversaries and judging the nations. The scene is painted in strong colours to signify the drama of the battle and the totality of the royal victory. The sovereign, protected by the Lord, demolishes every obstacle and moves ahead safely to victory. He tells us: “yes, there is widespread evil in the world, there is an ongoing battle between good and evil and it seems as though evil were the stronger. No, the Lord is stronger, Christ, our true King and Priest, for he fights with all God’s power and in spite of all the things that make us doubt the positive outcome of history, Christ wins and good wins, love wins rather than hatred.

The evocative image that concludes our Psalm fits in here; it is also an enigmatic word: “He will drink from the brook by the way; therefore he will lift up his head” (v. 7).

The king’s figure stands out in the middle of the description of the battle. At a moment of respite and rest, he quenches his thirst at a stream, finding in it refreshment and fresh strength to continue on his triumphant way, holding his head high as a sign of definitive victory. It is clear that these deeply enigmatic words were a challenge for the Fathers of the Church because of the different interpretations they could be given. 

Thus, for example, St Augustine said: this brook is the onward flow of the human being, of humanity, and Christ did not disdain to drink of this brook, becoming man; and so it was that on entering the humanity of the human being he lifted up his head and is now the Head of the mystical Body, he is our head, he is the definitive winner. (cf. Enarrationes in Psalmos CIX, 20: PL36, 1462). 

Dear friends, following the lines of the New Testament translation, the Church’s Tradition has held this Psalm in high esteem as one of the most important messianic texts. And the Fathers continued eminently to refer to it in a Christological key. The king of whom the Psalmist sang is definitively Christ, the Messiah who establishes the Kingdom of God and overcomes the powers of evil. He is the Word, begotten by the Father before every creature, before the dawn, the Son incarnate who died and rose and is seated in Heaven, the eternal priest who through the mystery of the bread and wine bestows forgiveness of sins and gives reconciliation with God, the king who lifts up his head, triumphing over death with his resurrection.

It would suffice to remember a passage, once again in St Augustine’s commentary on this Psalm, where he writes: “it was necessary to know the Only-Begotten Son of God who was about to come among men, to adopt man and to become a man by taking on his nature; he died, rose and ascended into Heaven, he is seated at the right hand of the Father and fulfilled among the people all that he had promised.... All this, therefore, had to be prophesied, it had to be foretold, to be pointed out as destined to come about, so that by coming unexpectedly it would not give rise to fear but by having been foretold, would then be accepted with faith, joy and expectation. This Psalm fits into the context of these promises. It prophesies our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ in such reliable and explicit terms that we cannot have the slightest doubt that it is really Christ who is proclaimed in it” (cf. Enarrationes in Psalmos CIX, 3: PL 36, 1447).

The paschal event of Christ thus becomes the reality to which the Psalm invites us to look, to look at Christ to understand the meaning of true kingship, to live in service and in the gift of self, in a journey of obedience and love “to the end” (cf. Jn 13:1 and 19:30). 

[Papa Benedetto, Udienza Generale 16 novembre 2011]

Christ ascended the cross as a unique King: as the eternal witness to the truth. “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world: to bear witness to the truth” (Jn 18:37). This witness is the measure of our deeds. The measure of life. The truth for which Christ gave his life – which he confirmed through the Resurrection – is the fundamental source of human dignity. Christ’s kingdom is manifested, as the Council teaches, in the “kingship” of man. We must know, in this light, how to participate in every sphere of contemporary life and to shape it. Indeed, in our times, there is no shortage of proposals addressed to man, nor of programmes invoked for his good. May we know how to re-examine them in the light of the full truth about man, the truth confirmed by the words and the cross of Christ!

May we know how to discern them well! Is what they declare expressed in accordance with the measure of man’s true dignity? Does the freedom they proclaim serve the kingly dignity of the being created in God’s image, or, on the contrary, does it pave the way for its deprivation or constraint? For example: do marital infidelity—even if sanctioned by divorce—or the lack of responsibility for conceived life—even if modern technology teaches how to dispose of it—serve man’s true freedom or express his dignity? Certainly, all moral permissiveness is not based on human dignity and does not educate man in it.

[Pope John Paul II, 25 November 1979]

[…] His is a kingship of guidance, of service and also a kingship which at the end of time will be fulfilled as judgment. Today, we have Christ before us as King, shepherd and judge, who reveals the criteria for belonging to the Kingdom of God. Here are the criteria.

The Gospel passage opens with a grandiose vision. Jesus, addressing his disciples, says: “When the Son of man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne” (Mt 25:31). It is a solemn introduction to the narrative of the Last Judgment. After having lived his earthly existence in humility and poverty, Jesus now shows himself in the divine glory that pertains to him, surrounded by hosts of angels. All of humanity is summoned before him and he exercises his authority, separating one from another, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. 

To those whom he has placed at his right he says: “Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me” (vv. 34-36). The righteous are taken aback, because they do not recall ever having met Jesus, much less having helped him in that way, but he declares: “as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me” (v. 40). These words never cease to move us, because they reveal the extent to which God’s love goes: up to the point of taking flesh, but not when we are well, when we are healthy and happy, no; but when we are in need. And in this hidden way he allows himself to be encountered; he reaches out his hand to us as a mendicant. In this way Jesus reveals the decisive criterion of his judgment, namely, concrete love for a neighbour in difficulty. And in this way the power of love, the kingship of God is revealed: in solidarity with those who suffer in order to engender everywhere compassion and works of mercy.

The Parable of the Judgment continues, presenting the King who shuns those who, during their lives, did not concern themselves with the needs of their brethren. Those in this case too are surprised and ask: “Lord, when did we see thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to thee?” (v. 44). Implying: “Had we seen you, surely we would have helped you!”. But the King will respond: “as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me” (v. 45). At the end of our life we will be judged on love, that is, on our concrete commitment to love and serve Jesus in our littlest and neediest brothers and sisters. That mendicant, that needy person who reaches out his hand is Jesus; that sick person whom I must visit is Jesus; that inmate is Jesus, that hungry person is Jesus. Let us consider this.

Jesus will come at the end of time to judge all nations, but he comes to us each day, in many ways, and asks us to welcome him. May the Virgin Mary help us to encounter him and receive him in his Word and in the Eucharist, and at the same time in brothers and sisters who suffer from hunger, disease, oppression, injustice. May our hearts welcome him in the present of our life, so that we may be welcomed by him into the eternity of his Kingdom of light and peace.

[Pope Francis, Angelus, 26 November 2017]

Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity (year A)  [31 May 2026]

First Reading from the Book of Exodus (34:4–6, 8–9)

The text presents one of the most precious moments of biblical revelation: God speaks of himself and proclaims his name before Moses, who prostrates himself in recognition of the greatness of what he hears. God defines himself as ‘the Lord (YHWH), a God who is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in love and faithfulness. This name, already revealed in the burning bush, is the foundation of Israel’s faith. Even then, God had shown his face: he sees the misery of his people in Egypt, hears their cry, knows their sufferings and comes down to set them free, inspiring Moses with the necessary strength. This means that man is never alone in his trials: God is present, accompanying and sustaining him. The Jewish Passover commemorates this liberating intervention every year. In today’s text, however, a further step is taken: God does not merely feel compassion, but loves deeply. His ‘passing’ before Moses recalls the passage during the Exodus: whenever God passes by, he sets free. This second revelation is even more important because it frees man from false images of God. It is not man who has invented a good God: it is God himself who has revealed himself in this way, unexpectedly. Moses fully understands the meaning of ‘slow to anger’ and asks forgiveness for the people, aware of their unfaithfulness. Israel is described as a “stiff-necked people”, an image drawn from the agricultural yoke: just as animals resist the yoke, so the people struggle to walk in step with God in the covenant. Despite this, Moses trusts that God will continue to forgive and keep the people as his inheritance. Finally, God’s faithfulness (“truth”) remains the foundation of hope: He does not abandon His people nor forget the covenant. For this reason, Israel remains the chosen people and, as the New Testament also reminds us, God remains ever faithful, even when man is unfaithful.

Responsorial Psalm: Song of Daniel (3:52–56)

To understand the Book of Daniel, we can use a modern comparison: in the 1980s, during Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia, a young actress staged a play about Joan of Arc. On the surface, it spoke of 15th-century France, but between the lines the message was clear: like Joan, the Czech people too could resist oppression. Similarly, the Book of Daniel, written in the 2nd century BC during the persecution by the Greek king Antiochus IV Epiphanes, is a text of resistance. It tells stories set in an earlier era, under the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar, but in reality it speaks of the author’s contemporary situation. Its aim is to encourage the faithful to remain steadfast, even unto martyrdom. A central episode is that of the three young men, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, condemned to be burned alive for refusing to worship a statue. Thrown into a blazing furnace, they are miraculously saved: the flames kill their executioners, whilst they walk unharmed through the fire, praising God. The greatest miracle, however, is their faith: they acknowledge the sins of the people and humbly entrust themselves to God’s mercy. In their song they proclaim: “Blessed are you, Lord, God of our fathers”. It is a reference to the covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Israel, to the divine promises and the history of salvation, but also to God’s continual forgiveness despite the people’s unfaithfulness. When speaking of God’s “Name”, God himself is referred to with respect. The reference to the “holy temple” reflects the historical context of persecution: even when worship is desecrated, it is affirmed that God alone is the true Lord. The images of the throne and the cherubim recall the Holy of Holies in the Temple, a sign of God’s presence among his people. This is a message of hope: even in the harshest trials, God is present and evil will not have the last word. The hymn thus becomes a song of trust and victory: despite violence and persecution, faith remains steadfast. This message of resilience and hope remains relevant even today.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians (13:11–13)

The final sentence: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God the Father and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all”, is the formula with which the Eucharistic celebration begins, and this is no coincidence: St Paul concludes his Second Letter to the Corinthians in this way, summarising God’s entire plan. This expression, spoken by the celebrant in the name of God, indicates that God invites humanity to enter into his intimacy, that is, into the communion of love of the Trinity. “Grace”, “love” and “communion” express the same reality: the Trinitarian life of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. The subjunctive verb “may be with you” does not indicate any doubt about God, who is always the source of forgiveness, blessing and presence, but rather points to human freedom: God continually offers his love, but man is free to accept or reject it. This clear expression of the Trinity is rare in the Bible and marks the fulfilment of revelation in Jesus Christ. From this spring Paul’s exhortations, beginning with joy: “Brothers and sisters, rejoice.” In the Bible, joy is linked to the experience of liberation, such as at the end of a war or the return from exile, when the people experience God’s salvation. These liberations that occur in history foreshadow the definitive joy promised by God, that of a new creation. Jesus himself speaks of this full and definitive joy at the end of his discourse at the Last Supper: “Take heart, I have overcome the world”, and promises a joy that no one can take away, even through trials. Paul’s second exhortation concerns unity and peace: “Be of one mind… live in peace”. Unity among believers is essential, for it is God’s witness to the world and echoes Jesus’ prayer: “May they be one.” Paul insists on one faith, one Lord, one baptism, one God and Father of all. This communion is also expressed in the liturgical gesture of the kiss of peace, already present in the early Christian communities. Ancient testimonies, such as those of Saint Justin and Saint Hippolytus, show how this gesture was an integral part of the celebration, a concrete sign of unity and brotherhood.

From the Gospel of John (3:16–18)

‘God so loved the world that he gave his only Son’: this sentence expresses the great transition from the Old to the New Testament. That God loves humanity was already known, and was Israel’s great discovery; the novelty lies in the gift of the Son for the salvation of all. God so loved the world… that whoever believes in him may not perish, but have eternal life. According to the Gospel of John, it is enough to believe to be saved: whoever receives Christ becomes a child of God and already possesses eternal life. This “eternal life” is the life of the Spirit received at Baptism: it is true salvation, that is, living in peace with oneself and with others, as brothers and sisters amongst men and children of God. To be saved, one need only turn to Jesus, allow oneself to be transformed by him, and pass from a heart of stone to a heart of flesh. In biblical language: “to lift one’s gaze towards him”. It is extraordinary news, if taken seriously, for in the face of the Crucified One the true face of God is revealed. In the face of the crucified Christ, who freely gives his life, humanity discovers the true face of God: not a domineering or vengeful God, but a God who is love and mercy. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” says Jesus. All that is required is faith: to believe in God who saves in order to be saved. In the Gospels, in fact, Jesus often repeats: “Your faith has saved you.” The evangelist John links this mystery to Zechariah’s prophecy: looking upon the one who has been pierced leads to conversion and purification. This vision also recurs in Revelation: all will see the one whom they have pierced. The expression ‘only Son’ indicates that Jesus is the fullness of grace and truth, the sole source of eternal life and the head of the new humanity. God’s plan is for all humanity to be united in Christ and to share in the life of the Trinity: this is salvation, true life, already present from this moment onwards. Eternal life is to know you, the one true God, and the one you have sent, Jesus Christ: to know God means to recognise him as mercy and to enter into a profound relationship with him, in accordance with the meaning that ‘to know’ holds in St John. ‘Avoiding judgement’ means avoiding separation from God: it is enough to believe in his forgiveness. As in human relationships, if one believes in forgiveness, one can return and be reconciled; if one does not believe, one remains trapped in one’s own error. So it is with God. God offers salvation, but does not impose it, and man remains always free. Those who believe are saved; those who reject faith exclude themselves. This is shown in an extraordinary way by the good thief when he turns to Jesus, who is crucified alongside him. Despite having lived a life of sin, at the very last moment before dying he entrusts himself to Jesus and receives a surprising promise: ‘Today you will be with me in Paradise.’

+Giovanni D’Ercole

No forced surrender

(Mk 12:28b-34)

That of the ‘Great commandment’ was the most familiar catechism rule, even to infants.

Jesus is questioned only to retort: and why do you not keep the one commandment that even God fulfils - the Sabbath rest?

The only disposition in which the Father recognizes himself is Love, not some particular precept - because only profound Quality obliges.

The spiritual proposal of the Master makes the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets its own: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God envelops the creature in every decision [heart], every moment and aspect of its concrete «life», all its resources [strength].

Mt 22:37 does not explicitly mention this last aspect, perhaps to emphasize that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

And Jesus adds to the nuances of authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side to those who think of love as a feeling only emotional.

The Lord suggests study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions (v.30) - the mental and deep intelligence aspect that complements Dt 6.

At first glance, it appears to be a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wisely and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor absorb our forces or potential, depersonalising us; not even from the mental point of view.

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable, other people’s opinion.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimacy and feeling, but of a totally involving affinity, made less oscillating precisely by the development of our sapiential measure on issues.

Here is a decisive appointment, of the Love in the round.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Lord of Heaven who does not come to meet us and instead towers over us with an objective of his own, which is extrinsic to us and makes us marginal.

Loving «How [and Because] yourself»: it is a new Genesis in the spirit of Giving.

The paradox suggested by Jesus is that we love for the care to meet - and because we love ourselves - by expanding the I into the You.

God’s «great command» affects real life and concerns not only the quality of relationship with the world and neighbour, but the reflexive global with oneself. 

We should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting the challenges even intellectual ones that call into question beliefs, works, one’s worldview, language, style, and thought itself.

All added values.

Needless to complain, if the ecclesial realities that do not update or deepen, and remain in the inherited commonplaces [or vogues] slowly decay, then disappear.

Therefore to the ancient notes of true love, the Son of God adds the ‘quality of mind’: we are not gullible, clueless, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the result of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

«Faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived» [John Paul II].

To internalize and live the message:

What is Great for you? Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God’s Call?

[Thursday 9th wk. in O.T.  June 4, 2026]

The great commandment: Love

(Mk 12:28b-34)

"What is the first commandment of all? Jesus answered [...] First is: Listen Israel. The Lord our God is one Lord, and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your life and with all your mind and with all your much" (vv.28-30; Deut 6:4-5).

Jesus turns what was the most banal of catechism questions into a crucial question: what is the 'great' commandment? 

Despite the different theological schools, the answer was well known to all: the Sabbath rest, the only prescription observed (even) by God.

The question put to the Master by the expert in the Law was not so innocent, but "to put him to the test" (Mt 22:35; Lk 10:25) - that is, to answer him: how then do you not fulfil the Sabbath precept?

Christ simplifies the tangle of disputes, about widening or narrowing theoretical cases, and gets to the point.

Always allergic to bickering over doctrines, he makes a proposal of life as the unifying moment of the demands of the Covenant.

All rules have an essence, otherwise they remain a scattered jumble. They find spontaneous foundation and natural meaning in the gift of self - however motivated.

But what is the solid point and context of such an invitation? A vague feeling, one emotion among many, a passing motion? Philanthropy? Or an experience?

We are thirsty for affection and grant friendship in an alternating current, so much so that love becomes a source of misunderstandings, rooted in the need to complete ourselves.

This is why the second commandment appears as an explanation of the first, not a reduction of it [Mt 22:39; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27].

In the ancient world, it made no sense to speak of love for God, the ineffable Mystery.

It was the Most High who favoured someone by bestowing material fortune on him, and he acknowledged a duty of worship, and sacrifices.

Ditto for the unfortunate, at least to avoid retaliation (and keep it good).

With Jesus, we openly speak of gratuitousness - not mere gratitude - as the unifying core, both of the person and of salvation history.

The idea of the exchange of favours ends.

The Father has no need of anything; he does not enjoy seeing us submissive and feeling recognised [pattern of pagan religiosity] as a sovereign would towards his subjects.

The relationship with the Eternal remains concrete, but honour to the Most High is manifested by making his plan of good and growth for man his own, and recognising oneself in it.

God's plan unfolds ... with a living demand. But there is a Departure, a Centre and an Arrival. In reality, a new Genesis.

In any case, only God's initiative extracts the best from us: more talent, more desire, more interests, more unexpressed capacities, more unseen - instead of torments that hurt the soul.

It is the difference between religiosity that weakens the personality, and Faith.

Through Faith a special creative Relationship is triggered: that of the one who accepts the Call by Name, as well as the proposals of the Source of being itself - wave upon wave.

They anticipate our initiatives and infallibly guide us to the perfect blossoming of our own and others' Seeds.

Especially in Mt (22:38-39) and Mk (12:29-31), it is clear that love for one's neighbour comes from the experience and awareness of being loved first and unconditionally by God - looked upon, accepted, valued, promoted, gladdened, completed.

One loves not by effort [force is a dirigiste lever: it produces episodes that make life worse] but on the basis of how much we feel loved - and with immediacy, repeatedly, unconditionally.

One loves on the subject of the "forfeit" already experienced in one's favour by Providence, which gives meaning and value to human acts.

Not through infatuation with external, induced expectations, in any case those of others.

Even in the spiritual realm, not a few behaviours thought capable of solving problems, often chronicle them.

In this way, they rely on an idea of permanence - not on the dynamic of vocational gratuitousness, on the unimaginable Gift, to be received.

So the point is to adjust according to resources that come, or the distortion of patterns, typical of the moralist mentality.

Indeed, the scheme of omnipotence in the good, paradoxically, folds the ego and its forces, and distorts its gaze.

But beyond all nuances, we are glad that the first and second commandments are about Love: what we most desire to do and receive. It is an urgency of life.

Yet we must be wise, so that the pattern of paradigms or the stimuli of natural affection and precipitations do not overwhelm and drag away - overturning - every good intention.

Love cannot tolerate an excess of expectations, because it springs from an experience of Perfection that arrives; offered, unexpected, unpredictable. Not already set up according to concatenated and normal intentions.

If authentic, in time we will experience blossoming; not in the expectation of a return, but first and foremost in a Gift outside of time. For it has already satiated and convinced us - with contemplative amazement - and made us rejoice.

Thus the vocational and foundational Eros will continue to mould us, with its perennially explorative virtue capable of activating new Births.

Personal energy - without the usual baggage of torment, reservations, outwardness... and (again) wrath.

Great Commandment: only the profound Quality obliges

The only disposition in which the Father recognises Himself is Love, in the round and all round; not some particular precept.

For Jesus there are no rankings in the things of God and man - in fact He showed a marked tendency to summarise the many dispositions - because only profound Quality compels.

The Master's spiritual proposal appropriated the narrative of God's people and the practice of the Prophets: all heart, feet, hands - and intelligence.

Complete Love for God must envelop the creature in every decision [heart].

Likewise, in every moment and aspect of his concrete "life", as well as involving all his own resources [strength: cf. Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27].

Deut 6:5 (Hebrew text) reads in fact: "with all thy much", meaning a concrete participation in both cultic life and material fraternity - providing and helping with one's possessions.

Matthew does not explicitly mention the latter, perhaps to emphasise that the Father does not absorb energies in any way, but transmits them.

But Jesus adds to the nuances of the authentic understanding with God enumerated in the First Testament an unexpected side for those who think of love as a delicate feeling only.

The Lord suggests the study, discernment and understanding of our perceptions [Mt 22:37; Mk 12:30; Lk 10:27] accompanied by the mental aspect and deep intelligence (excluded in Deut 6).

At first glance, this appears to be a secondary facet or even a frill for the qualitative leap from a common religious sense to the wisely and personally configured existence of Faith.

The exact opposite is true: we are children of a Father who does not supplant us, nor does he absorb our potential or energy, depersonalising us.

It is a capital implication of our dignity and advancement - even human - and a specific discriminator in the discernment of Faith in Christ, as opposed to all devotional solutions in search of the Absolute (whatever).

Practicality alone makes us fragile, not very aware; and when we are not convinced, we will not be reliable either, always at the mercy of changing situations and the conformist, fashionable opinion of others.

It is not infrequent that we flee the all-embracing confrontation that would enrich everyone - precisely because of incompetence.

But let us not be one-sidedly credulous. Being attentive and up-to-date, having the capacity for even critical thinking is a required expansion in the development of one's human, moral, cultural and spiritual vocation.

Trivialities, identifications, impersonal shenanigans, and half-hearted assembly repetitions get in the way of the tide of life, this divine cascade of perennial energy that pulses and does not go out.

On the contrary, it comes with stirring appeals: it calls us to open ourselves up to new relationship attractions and other interests, even intellectual; even denominational.

Jesus does not speak of love for God in terms of intimism and sentiment, but of a totally involving affinity, made less uncertain precisely by the development of our sapiential measure, regarding matters.

Devotion swallows up everything. On the other hand, Faith does not allow itself to be plagiarised by local or external civilisation: it presupposes an ability to competently enter into personal evaluations or those inherent in the community and overall debate - historical and up-to-date.

The testimony of our Hope does not disdain to allow itself to be fertilised by dialogue with those with greater psychological or biblical expertise, specialist pastoral and social, as well as archaeological, bioethical, economic, scientific and so on.

A commitment that shows true interest in the Sacred [of course, all aspects to be evaluated not as school options].

But it must be admitted that one of the most organic expressions of great Catholic theology is what was once called the 'doctrine' of the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.

In the existence of Love, the primacy (also relational) of the Gift of the Spirit was recognised, which completed the possibilities of "natural" expression of the cardinal and theological virtues, leading them to fullness.

As many as four of the seven Gifts were related to a character of profound knowledge: Wisdom, Intellect, Counsel and Science.

In short: there is still a decisive rendezvous here for Love in the round.To indulge in a few jokes along believing lines is everyone's domain [individualist or circle], but the ability to enter into the matter is only of those who have been willing to sift through and experience the issues - because they are more interested in understanding the Face of God and His Design on humanity than in reiterating false narrative certainties.

It would be unnatural to recognise a Master of Heaven who does not come to meet us; as if he towered over us with 'his' objective (extrinsic to us) and thus made everyone marginal.

[In the sects - even those with a good-natured appearance - it is forbidden to go deeper, to understand: the position is already there, the candidate must 'only' adapt].

"As (and because) thou art thyself" [sense of the Greek text: Mt 22:39; Mk 12:31; Lk 10:27]: it is a new Birth of life, new Genesis in the spirit of Gift.

The paradox suggested by Jesus surpasses the ancient norm of Lev 19:18. 

We love not only the children of our people, "for the fact that" we care to meet and want to enrich ourselves together, expanding the I into the Thou.

God's "Great Command" invests real life and concerns not only the quality of relationship with the world and our neighbour, but the reflexive global self.

One should not be afraid of other doctrines and disciplines, neglecting analytical challenges beyond the 'organic' ones - the long-term ones.

All call into question beliefs, works, one's worldview; language, style, and thought itself.

We still have a great need to broaden our minds and become as vast as a panorama. And reharmonise the opposites we drag in.

Hidden Sides and Pearls to which we have not yet given breath, or visibility - and perhaps never considered Allies.

The troubled fate of the prophets remains unique, but it is not the certainties (ancient, or sophisticated, fashionable, à la page) that are the added value of the Faith in Love adventure - but rather the risk of putting oneself in the balance and the all-embracing reworking.

It is then useless to complain, if ecclesial realities that do not bring themselves up to date, and remain in inherited commonplaces, slowly decay, then disappear.

In spite of their striking heritage and fairy-tale events.

In this way, the "doctor of the law" may already be close [Mk 12:34; Lk 10:28] but he still has to keep an eye on Jesus, to understand in Him the more dilated sense of the total gift, in the specifically personalising, which is not naive.

The Lord brings the meaning of norms back to their profound and original function: to become the viaticum of every encounter that raises events, people of all backgrounds, and creation.

In conclusion, experience and ritual have their fulcrum in the reciprocity of love.

Life in all its facets becomes Liturgy more meaningful than the accredited gesture of worship; its truly broken Bread becomes a convincing call to Communion and Mission.

Even if it does not make the headlines, the authentic thermometer of our journey will not be the volume or the pile of important things we do, but a pulsing regenerated heart and mind.

This is why to the ancient notes of true Love the Son of God adds the quality of thought: we are not gullible, uninformed, one-sided.

Our outstretched hands are the fruit of free and conscious choice. No forced surrender.

"A faith that does not become culture is a faith that is not fully received, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived" [John Paul II].

To internalise and live the message:

What is Great for you? Titles? Have, power, appear?

What in your experience of Love is the Starting Point, the Centre and the Finish?

Do you document and update yourself in order to better correspond to God's Call?

Deep Relationship

Dear brothers and sisters!

The Gospel [...] re-proposes to us Jesus' teaching on the greatest commandment: the commandment of love, which is twofold: to love God and to love one's neighbour. The Saints, whom we have recently celebrated all together in one solemn feast, are precisely those who, trusting in God's grace, seek to live according to this fundamental law. Indeed, the commandment of love can be fully put into practice by those who live in a deep relationship with God, just as a child becomes capable of loving from a good relationship with its mother and father. St John of Avila, whom I have recently proclaimed a Doctor of the Church, writes at the beginning of his Treatise on the Love of God: 'The cause,' he says, 'that most impels our heart to love God is to consider deeply the love he has had for us... This, more than benefits, impels the heart to love; for he who gives another a benefit, gives him something he possesses; but he who loves, gives himself with all he has, without anything else left to give' (No. 1). Before being a command - love is not a command - it is a gift, a reality that God makes us know and experience, so that, like a seed, it can also germinate within us and develop in our lives.If God's love has taken deep root in a person, that person is able to love even those who do not deserve it, as God does towards us. The father and mother do not love their children only when they deserve it: they love them always, even if they naturally let them know when they are wrong. From God we learn to always and only want good and never evil. We learn to look at the other not only with our eyes, but with God's gaze, which is the gaze of Jesus Christ. A gaze that starts from the heart and does not stop at the surface, goes beyond appearances and manages to grasp the other person's deepest expectations: expectations of being listened to, of free attention; in a word: of love. But the reverse also occurs: that by opening myself to the other as he is, by going out to him, by making myself available to him, I also open myself to knowing God, to feeling that he is there and is good. Love of God and love of neighbour are inseparable and stand in a reciprocal relationship. Jesus did not invent either one or the other, but revealed that they are, after all, one and the same commandment, and He did so not only with His word, but above all with His testimony: the very Person of Jesus and His entire mystery embody the unity of love of God and neighbour, like the two arms of the Cross, vertical and horizontal. In the Eucharist He gives us this twofold love, giving us Himself, so that, nourished by this Bread, we may love one another as He has loved us.

Dear friends, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary, let us pray that every Christian knows how to show his faith in the one true God with a limpid testimony of love for his neighbour.

(Pope Benedict, Angelus 4 November 2012)

Jesus "abbreviated" the Word – he showed us once more its deeper simplicity and unity. Everything taught by the Law and the Prophets is summed up – he says – in the command: "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind… You shall love your neighbour as yourself" (Mt 22:37-40). This is everything – the whole faith is contained in this one act of love which embraces God and humanity. Yet now further questions arise: how are we to love God with all our mind, when our intellect can barely reach him? How are we to love him with all our heart and soul, when our heart can only catch a glimpse of him from afar, when there are so many contradictions in the world that would hide his face from us? This is where the two ways in which God has "abbreviated" his Word come together. He is no longer distant. He is no longer unknown. He is no longer beyond the reach of our heart. He has become a child for us, and in so doing he has dispelled all doubt. He has become our neighbour, restoring in this way the image of man, whom we often find so hard to love. For us, God has become a gift. He has given himself. He has entered time for us. He who is the Eternal One, above time, he has assumed our time and raised it to himself on high. Christmas has become the Feast of gifts in imitation of God who has given himself to us. Let us allow our heart, our soul and our mind to be touched by this fact! Among the many gifts that we buy and receive, let us not forget the true gift: to give each other something of ourselves, to give each other something of our time, to open our time to God. In this way anxiety disappears, joy is born, and the feast is created.

[Pope Benedict, homily 24 December 2006]