Being present to oneself: do not replace Love with flaws, observance, deference

(Mt 23:1-12)

The New Relationship between God and man could not be contained within the meticulous regulations of the First Covenant and its burdensome customs.

At the time of Jesus, such sick obsessions of snooty verticism dominated, therefore only epidermal; incapable of giving breath, freedom, propulsive motivations.

The pyramidal conception of the world and the external idea of the web of spiritual life never correspond to Revelation, nor to the simple criteria of natural wisdom.

Indeed, the Tao Tê Ching (iv) says: "The Tao mitigates its splendour, makes itself similar to its dust. What profundity! It seems to have always existed'.

Master Wang Pi comments: "[That which has no origin] by smoothing its points, does not injure creatures; by untangling its knots, it does not fatigue them; by mitigating its light, it does not debase their bodies; by making itself like its dust, it does not disturb their genuineness".

Adds Master Ho-shang Kung: 'While having extraordinary splendour, one must know how to keep oneself in darkness and gloom [...], make oneself similar to dirt and dust, along with the crowds: one must not differentiate oneself from them'.

Our reality is interwoven with opposing states, which innervate it and complete it; even moving it forward. Even turning it into a raging torrent.

A rejection, an abandonment, an experience of failure, limitation, illness or dislike of others - even a reversal - can bring us back to the dormant energies of life and give birth to the new Person.

In this way:

How do we contact our new ways of being? What steps to take to enter into a dynamism of regeneration that helps to develop a living climate - and where to start?

Jesus proposes Faith: a founding Relationship, that is, a new way of standing before the Father and the world... with a trusting, spousal and creative attitude; in the initiative of an Other point of view.

Multifaceted love, Eros coming to us in a palpable dialogue - not without inner struggles.

This in the time of a path (singular, not at all traced or external). Even on the spur of the moment annoying, because it goes against the tide.

Religious authorities, on the other hand, sought their security in the strict and conspicuous observance of the written and oral Law.

Without risk or mind-boggling personalisation.

In the face of such an accommodating mentality, devoid of vertigo, the young Master insists on the practice of Friendship [much stronger than voluntarism] which relativises fulfilment.

He thus gives the profound Tradition its true meaning, rediscovering the authentic meaning of the Torah and the rules of conduct.

After all, it was precisely the spiritual leaders of the official religion who were the first not to believe what they preached to others... or rather, they felt exempt, because they were accustomed to thinking of themselves as elective, recognised, selected, chosen models - almost cast from above.

A vice of return that the Risen One seems to discern in the spiritual leaders of his own new people, where those in charge - while proclaiming Christ himself - began to become lovers even of obsequiousness.

Just like the ancient professionals of religion, who pushed conformity, legalism, and moralism; accustomed to show off, dictate judgment, and condition the very course of the Law.

Then as skilful specialists they always found any excuse to say and not do - and pass as 'impeccable worshippers':

"They bind together burdens that are heavy and hard to carry, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they not even with their finger want to move them" (v.4).

Even today, true communication experts always act in public, to be acclaimed.

But in their conduct they have no decisive and deep-rooted inner principle, falling prey to situations; as light as butterflies.

Driven by ambition, here they are all showiness and vanity - even self-love aroused by the social influence they willingly desire and exercise.

A spirit of verticality and vacuous self-importance that Mt notes also snaking among his veteran communities in Galilee and Syria.

Small assemblies then besieged by the influx of pagans, from whom the Judaizing elders demanded hierarchical respect above all.

Hypocritically ousting Christ and the Father, such veterans of ancient religiosity also aspired to be called rabbis, fathers, preceptors (vv.7-10).

Self-appointed superiors, with a limited and reductive yardstick of judgement.

With regard to the experience of Faith, the Lord instead orders us all to be brothers - that is, on an equal footing - in the certainty of a single Father.

This also applies to us, especially in the time of rebirth from the global crisis.

In Deus Caritas est (no.35):

"This right way of serving makes the worker humble. He does not assume a position of superiority before the other, however miserable his situation may be at the time. Christ took the last place in the world - the cross - and precisely with this radical humility He redeemed us and constantly helps us. He who is in a position to help recognises that in this very way he too is being helped; it is not his merit or title to boast that he can help. This task is grace. The more one does for others, the more he will understand and make his own the word of Christ: "We are useless servants" (Lk 17:10). Indeed, he recognises that he acts not on the basis of a superiority or greater personal efficiency, but because the Lord gives him the gift of it. At times, the excess of need and the limits of his own work may expose him to the temptation of discouragement. But it is precisely then that it will help him to know that, in the final analysis, he is but an instrument in the hands of the Lord; he will thus free himself from the presumption of having to bring about, personally and alone, the necessary improvement in the world. In humility he will do what he can do, and in humility he will entrust the rest to the Lord. It is God who rules the world, not us. We serve Him only as much as we can and as long as He gives us the strength. To do, however, what we can with the strength we have, this is the task that keeps the good servant of Jesus Christ always on the move: 'The love of Christ impels us' (2 Cor 5:14)".

How much we need a bath of humility, in the soul of each one who wishes to be present in his actions!

We can start, for example, by avoiding using devotion and the Church as means of promotion, to appear important and emphasise some 'spiritual' rank higher than others.

A false attitude in itself - it causes excessive forcing, deaf to the inner core. But also detrimental to the building of a family atmosphere, or culture of the encounter, synodal path; and so on.

By insisting, on the other hand, on the attitude [this is infallible] of mutual service, there will be no more time left to get caught up in vanity, disputes over precedence, arguments, the gap between saying and doing.

Where, on the other hand, can the theatre of unlove, which does not vitalise but depresses God's people, start from?

From the imperishable scribes and Pharisees (v.2) always exaggerated in their spirit of control.

Well, according to the Gospels, those who take on ecclesiastical leadership tasks have no right to any 'bow': they are simply 'deacons' (v.11) of the brothers.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you like bows? What does your soul say about peacocks?

In this […] Liturgy, the Apostle Paul invites us to draw near to the Gospel “not as the word of men but as what it really is, the word of God” (1 Thess 2:13). Thus we can accept with faith the warning that Jesus offers to our conscience, in order to conform our way of living to it. In today’s passage he rebukes the scribes and the Pharisees, who were the teachers of the community, because their own conduct was openly in conflict with the teaching they rigorously taught others. Jesus underlines that they “preach, but do not practise” (Mt 23:3); rather “they bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger” (Mt 23:4). Good teaching must be received but it risks being contradicted by inconsistent behaviour. Thus Jesus says: “practise and observe whatever they tell you, but not what they do” (Mt 23:3). Jesus’ attitude is exactly the opposite: he is the first to practise the commandment of love, which he teaches to everyone, and he can say the burden is light and easy because he helps us carry it (cf. Mt 11:29-30).

Thinking of teachers who oppress the freedom of others in the name of authority, St Bonaventure points out who the authentic teacher is, affirming that, “No one can teach or practise, or reach knowable truths unless the Son of God is present” (Sermo I de Tempore, Dom. XXII post Pentecosten, Opera omnia, IX, Quaracchi, 1901, 442). “Jesus sits on the cathedra of Moses... as the greater Moses, who broadens the Covenant to include all nations” (cf. Jesus of Nazareth, Doubleday, New York, 2007, p. 66). He is our true and only Teacher! We are, therefore, called to follow the Son of God, the Word Incarnate, who expresses the truth of his teaching through his faithfulness to the will of the Father, through the gift of himself. Bl. Antonio Rosmini writes: “The first teacher trains all the other teachers, as he also trains the same disciples themselves, because they exist only in virtue of that first tacit, but very powerful Magisterium” (Idea della Sapienza, 82, in: Introduzione alla filosofia, vol. II, Rome, 1934, 143). Jesus also firmly condemns vanity and observes that “deeds to be seen by men” (Mt 23:5), places them at the mercy of human approval, undermining the values that found the authenticity of the person.

Dear friends, the Lord Jesus presented himself to the world as a servant, completely stripping himself and lowering himself to give on the Cross the most eloquent lesson of humility and love. His example gives rise to a proposal of life: “He who is greatest among you shall be your servant” (Mt 23:11). We invoke the intercession of Mary Most Holy and we ask especially for those in Christian communities, who are called to the ministry of teaching, that they may always witness by their works to the truths that they communicate by their words.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 30 October 2011]

1. With my gaze turned to the Shroud, I would like to extend a cordial greeting to you all, the faithful of the Church of Turin. I greet the pilgrims who have come from every part of the world at the time of this public exposition to look at one of the most unsettling signs of the Redeemer's suffering love.

As I entered the cathedral, which still shows the scars of last year's terrible fire, I paused in adoration before the Eucharist, the sacrament which is the focus of the Church's attention and, under humble appearances, contains the true, real and substantial presence of Christ. In the light of Christ's presence in our midst, I then stopped before the Shroud, the precious Linen that can help us better to understand the mystery of the love of God's Son for us. Before the Shroud, the intense and agonizing image of an unspeakable torment, I wish to thank the Lord for this unique gift, which asks for the believer's loving attention and complete willingness to follow the Lord.

3. For the believer, what counts above all is that the Shroud is a mirror of the Gospel. In fact, if we reflect on the sacred Linen, we cannot escape the idea that the image it presents has such a profound relationship with what the Gospels tell of Jesus' passion and death, that every sensitive person feels inwardly touched and moved at beholding it. Whoever approaches it is also aware that the Shroud does not hold people's hearts to itself, but turns them to him, at whose service the Father's loving providence has put it. Therefore, it is right to foster an awareness of the precious value of this image, which everyone sees and no one at present can explain. For every thoughtful person it is a reason for deep reflection, which can even involve one's life. The Shroud is thus a truly unique sign that points to Jesus, the true Word of the Father, and invites us to pattern our lives on the life of the One who gave himself for us.

7. The Shroud is an image of silence. There is a tragic silence of incommunicability, which finds its greatest expression in death, and there is the silence of fruitfulness, which belongs to whoever refrains from being heard outwardly in order to delve to the roots of truth and life. The Shroud expresses not only the silence of death but also the courageous and fruitful silence of triumph over the transitory, through total immersion in God's eternal present. It thus offers a moving confirmation of the fact that the merciful omnipotence of our God is not restrained by any power of evil, but knows instead how to make the very power of evil contribute to good. Our age needs to rediscover the fruitfulness of silence, in order to overcome the dissipation of sounds, images and chatter that too often prevent the voice of God from being heard.

[Pope John Paul II, Veneration of the Shroud, Turin 24 May 1998]

Today’s Gospel passage (cf. Mt 23:1-12) is set in the final days of Jesus’ life, in Jerusalem; days filled with expectations and also tension. On the one hand, Jesus directs harsh criticism at the scribes and Pharisees, and on the other, he entrusts important mandates to Christians of all times, thus also to us.

He says to the crowd: “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; so practice and observe whatever they tell you”. Meaning that they have the authority to teach what is in conformity with the Law of God. However, immediately after, Jesus adds: “but do not do ‘what they do; for they preach, but do not practice’” (vv. 2-3). Brothers and sisters, a frequent flaw of those in authority, whether civil or ecclesiastic authority, is that of demanding of others things — even righteous things — that they do not, however, put into practise in the first person. They live a double life. Jesus says: “They bind heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on men’s shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with their finger (v. 4). This attitude sets a bad example of authority, which should instead derive its primary strength precisely from setting a good example. Authority arises from a good example, so as to help others to practise what is right and proper, sustaining them in the trials that they meet on the right path. Authority is a help, but if it is wrongly exercised, it becomes oppressive; it does not allow people to grow, and creates a climate of distrust and hostility, and also leads to corruption.

Jesus openly denounces some of the negative conduct of the scribes and of some Pharisees: “they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues, and salutations in the market places” (vv. 6-7). This is a temptation that corresponds to human pride and that is not always easy to overcome. It is the attitude of living only for appearances.

Then Jesus entrusts the mandates to his disciples: “you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brethren. [...] Neither be called masters, for you have one master, the Christ. He who is greatest among you shall be your servant” (vv. 8-11).

We disciples of Jesus must not seek titles of honour, of authority or supremacy. I tell you, it pains me personally to see people who, psychologically, live in pursuit of vain accolades. We disciples of Jesus must not do this, because among ourselves there must be a simple and fraternal attitude. We are all brothers and sisters and in no way must we abuse others or look down on them. No. We are all brothers and sisters. If we have received talents from the heavenly Father, we must place them at the service of our brothers and sisters, and not exploit them for our own satisfaction and personal interests. We must not consider ourselves superior to others; modesty is essential for an existence that seeks to conform to the teaching of Jesus, who is meek and humble of heart and came not to be served but to serve.

May the Virgin Mary, “humble and exalted more than any creature” (Dante,  Paradiso, xxxiii:2), help us, with her motherly intercession, to spurn pride and vanity, and to be meek and docile to the love that comes from God, for the service of our brothers and sisters and for their joy, which will also be our own.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 5 November 2017]

Exemplary Encounter and Life at the Unknown Climax

(Lk 6:36-38)

Is it possible to put the Gospel under exemplary «Measure» - eg. of Law (retributive) or of the First Testament and Tradition?

No, a Family would not be built. And the culmination of this kind of experience would be ethnic or elitist prerogative.

Configuration and proposal that would give birth everywhere to a gray, slavish, fragile world; incapable of dialogue, and unknown discoveries.

After feeling separated by a humanizing and divine quality of life, only the awareness of reconciliation can transform environments and persons.

Such is the living and actualized Jesus, in community.

He introduces his intimates into a new experience of fluid understanding, devoid of pride.

Without actually assuming affected or photocopied attitudes.

It’s then that Humility effortlessly floods us, bringing Charity to the summit - in the celestial setting of the Gratis that moves the gaze.

By suppressing and suppressing, the artifices inexorably close the joy of living.

They harness Happiness in "ways", in the endless accentuation of efforts - against themselves, and opposing the world of others.

Conventions, standard duties and reactions, never contain the benevolent, incisive energies of growth.

In the lives of Saints we see it: listening to oneself thoroughly, letting it be... and forgiveness, they increase love a hundredfold.

It becomes a source of incredible gestures in favor of one's neighbor; in the noticing accentuated, in the care, in the free hospitality, in the total and unrestricted gift.

There has always been a need for the contribution of new virtues and situations - even intimate ones - of their surprises.

Not discarding the nonsense of others… means having learned to welcome our own frailties and oppositions.

The world begins to change when we accept ourselves, in the experience of the God-with-us’ esteem.

Thus we learn to perceive Beauty, instead of aridity and detachment: what makes life more intense and at the same time sliding.

Even the knowledge of God is not an asset of confiscation or an acquired science, already internally and externally foreclosed.

It moves from one action to another, incessantly; takes place in an encounter that is always alive, which neither blocks nor dissolves us.

It’s the future world’s beginning; principle of an unpredictable adventure.

God's Newness that creates an environment of Grace - with enormous possibilities, bursting forth from diverse energies.

It bursts in to break up primates and stagnant balances.

It does so through an impossible opening of credit - with a lordship of qualities and perspectives - which regenerate and reactivate people, families, fraternities; the whole world.

Principle of Catholicity, understood as a wide field.

Pearls of the new Pastoral, helping not to mark borders.

Yeast dough. Not self-referential.

[Monday 2nd wk. in Lent, March 2, 2026]

Exemplary encounter and Life at the unknown peak

(Lk 6:36-38)

Is it possible to put the Gospel under exemplary "Measure" - e.g. of (retributive) Law or of First Testament and Tradition?

No, it would not build Family. And the culmination of this kind of experience would be an ethnic or elitist prerogative.

Configuration and proposal that would give birth everywhere to a grey, slavish, fragile world; incapable of dialogue and unknown discoveries.

After feeling separated from a humanising and divine quality of life, only the awareness of reconciliation can transform environments and people.

Such is the living Jesus in community.

He immerses his intimates in a new experience of fluid understanding, devoid of pride - despite being 'devout'.

Without, in fact, assuming prissy or photocopied attitudes.

It is then that humility effortlessly floods us, bringing Charity to the summit: in the heavenly set-up of the Gratis that shifts the gaze.

By suppressing, artifices inexorably close off the joy of living.

They harness it in manners, in the endless accentuation of effort - against oneself, and against the world of others.

Conventions, standard duties and reactions, never contain the benevolent, incisive energies of growth.

We see it in the lives of the saints: listening deeply, letting it be... and Forgiveness, they increase love a hundredfold.

It becomes the source of incredible gestures in favour of one's neighbour; in the accentuated realisation, in the care, in the free hospitality, in the total and unrestricted gift.

There is always a need for the contribution of new energies and situations - even intimate ones - and their surprises.

Not discarding the naivety of others means having learnt to welcome our own frailties and oppositions.

The world begins to change when we accept ourselves, in the experience of the appreciation of the God-With-We.

This is how we learn to perceive Beauty, instead of dryness and detachment: that which makes life more intense and at the same time smooth.

Even the knowledge of God is not a confiscated commodity or an acquired science, already inwardly and outwardly foreclosed.

It moves from one action and another, unceasingly; it is realised in an ever-living Encounter, which neither blocks nor dissolves the personality of each one.

The criterion of acceptance (albeit of varied goods for the soul), the principle of remission, coexistence, communion (even of multiple, even material resources) have been the main catalysts for growth.

Right from the earliest churches, the vector of mercy, even in summary, in petty things, was the source and meaning of all the formulas, of all the signs of the nascent liturgy itself.

The existential and spiritual centre to which to converge.

Here was the reconciliation of friction between customs and less closed conceptions, between bell towers and internal tribes, traditionalists and avant-gardists; and so on.

In the Spirit of Providence, every composition is not simply a work of magnanimity proper to those who seek always to look ahead.

It is the beginning of the future world; the beginning of an unforeseeable and unspeakable adventure, even a scapegoat.

And we in such a kingdom are suddenly reborn. Reborn; as if sprung from the new humanity, the condition of authentic children.

Generated again by the Father, who grants everything and everyone: because we have come into frank contact, in the Person of Christ.

In short, Christian Forgiveness is not the common 'positive look'. Nor does it have anything to do with so-called 'positive thinking'.

Tolerance of children is not a simplistic 'going beyond' in an artificial sense. As in pretending nothing has happened and turning a blind eye [in a blunt, sometimes intimately contemptuous manner].

The spirit of understanding to which we are called does not derive from good-natured paternalism, which only saves manners.

It is God's newness that creates an environment of Grace - with enormous possibilities, bursting forth from diverse energies.

Novelty that breaks through to shatter primates, stagnant balances.

It does so through an impossible opening of credit - with a lordship of qualities and perspectives.

Scenarios that regenerate and reactivate individuals, families, fraternities; the whole world.

All so that we are freely placed in the position and reciprocity that enables us to reveal the hidden - astounding - meaning of being and vocation.

The very reason why we were born.

Per-gifting is a surplus restitution of all lost dignity. Indeed, far beyond.

It does not just put us back on our feet; it does not just restore. It enhances and strengthens the dull.

It transforms the mediocre or those who approach despite having a different sensibility, heavy baggage, and the voiceless... into outriders and brilliant inventors.

Because what was unthought of yesterday, tomorrow will be clarifying and driving force.

In the wake of different visions or expectations, confusions will make sense. 

The clearing of the fog will not be achieved by the normal, enlisted hearts, always indulgent towards themselves but stern when anyone touches their interests and habitual automatisms.

The work of healing, of recovering the scattered being - the therapy of real problems - will arise rather through the work of the despised and intruders.

Scorned, despised, eccentric, shaky - out of every turn and predictability.

Leavened dough. Not self-referential.

These are the authentic virtuosos. Principle of Catholicity, understood as a wide field.

The Pearls of the New Pastoral: those who help not to mark too many ideal boundaries.

"There is a happy formula of St. Vincent de Lérins who, comparing the growing human being and the Tradition that is transmitted from one generation to the next, affirms that one cannot preserve the "deposit of faith" without making it progress: "consolidating with the years, developing with time, deepening with age" (Commonitorium primum, 23.9) - "ut annis consolidetur, dilatetur tempore, sublimetur aetate". This is the style of our walk: realities, if they do not walk, are like waters. Theological realities are like water: if water does not flow and is stale, it is the first to go rotten. A stale Church begins to be putrefied [...].

And here I would like to point out that even on the concept of "the people of God" there can be rigid and antagonistic hermeneutics, remaining trapped in the idea of an exclusivity, of a privilege, as happened with the interpretation of the concept of "election" that the prophets corrected, indicating how it should be correctly understood. It is not a privilege - to be God's people - but a gift that someone receives ... for himself? No: for all, the gift is to give it: this is the vocation [...].

Why do I tell you these things? Because in the synodal journey, listening must take into account the sensus fidei, but it must not overlook all those 'presentiments' embodied where we would not expect it: there may be a 'sniff without citizenship', but it is no less effective.

The Holy Spirit in his freedom knows no boundaries, nor does he allow himself to be limited by affiliations. If the parish is the home of everyone in the neighbourhood, not an exclusive club, I recommend: leave the doors and windows open, do not limit yourself to considering only those who attend or think like you - that will be 3, 4 or 5%, no more. Allow everyone to come in... Allow yourself to go out and let yourself be questioned, let their questions be your questions, allow yourself to walk together: the Spirit will lead you, trust the Spirit. Do not be afraid to enter into dialogue and let yourselves be moved by dialogue: it is the dialogue of salvation'.

[Pope Francis, Address to the Diocese of Rome 18 September 2021].

Says the Tao Tê Ching (LIX):

"When no one knows his culmination, he can possess the kingdom".

Life of pure Faith in the Spirit.

It is the paradoxical and unprecedented 'mechanism' that makes one assess the crossroads of history, unravelling the knots of real questions.

It not only overcomes, but rather supplants difficult moments - bringing us back to the true path.

And it orients reality to the concrete good; multifaceted, not one-sided.

It makes reality itself soar in the wonder of the Spirit, which is unleashed in a more important way than usual - towards itself.

To internalise and live the message:

Do you see in your community that someone claims to commandeer the datum of Faith, turning it into measured, predictable duty?

In your opinion, what description of God's work does it convey?

Conversely, what unimaginable and out-of-scale effect has your first or minimal involvement in the life of Faith-love produced?

Forgiveness and Faith: Living Encounter

Free eccentric, forward: Sacrament of humanity as such

(Lk 17:1-6)

The knowledge of God is not a confiscated commodity or an acquired and already foreclosed science: it moves from one action and another, unceasingly; it is realised in an ever-living Encounter, which does not block or dissolve us.

Typical, the experience of the "little ones" [mikròi v.2]. From the earliest communities of faith, they have been those who lacked security and energy; unstable and without support.

Since time immemorial, "Little Ones" have been the incipients; the new ones, who have heard of Christian brotherhood, but are sometimes forced to stand in line, aside, or give up the journey.

But the criterion of welcome, tolerance, communion even of material goods, has been the first and main catalyst for the growth of the assemblies.

Even the origin and meaning of all the formulas and signs of the liturgy.

The existential and ideal centre to which to converge. For a proactive and in itself transformative Faith.

In the Spirit of the Master, even for us the conciliation of friction is not simply a work of magnanimity.

It is the beginning of the future world. The beginning of an unpredictable and unspeakable adventure. And we with it suddenly reborn: coming into frank contact in Christ. He who does not extinguish us at all.

Hence the Christian forgiveness of children, which is not... 'looking positive', and 'turning a blind eye': rather, Newness of God that creates an environment of Grace, propulsive, with enormous possibilities.

Force that breaks through and paradoxically lets the dark poles meet, instead of shaking them off. Genuinely eliminating useless comparisons, words and ballasts, which block the transparent Exodus.

Dynamics that guide one to the indispensable and unavoidable: waves to shift one's gaze. Teaching one to notice one's own hysterics, to know oneself, to face anxiety, its reason; to manage situations and moments of crisis.

Mouldable virtue that places one in intimate listening to the personal essence.

Hence, solid, broad empathy that introduces new energies; it brings one's own deep states, even standard life, together... arousing other knowledge, different perspectives, unexpected relationships.

Thus without too much struggle it renews us, and curbs the loss of veracity [typical, that in favour of circumstantial manners]. It accentuates capacities and horizons of Peace - crumbling primates, swampy balances.

The discovery of new sides of the being that we are, conveys a sense of better wholeness, then spontaneously curbs external influences, dissolves prejudices, does not make one act on an emotional, impulsive basis.

Rather, it puts us in a position to reveal the hidden and astounding meaning of being. It unfolds the crucial horizon.

Activating 'Forgiveness' is gratuitously a surrender of one's character range, of all lost dignity, and far beyond.

By laying down sentences, the art of tolerance expands the [also intimate] gaze. It enhances and strengthens the dull sides; those we ourselves had detested.

In this eccentric way it transforms those considered distant or mediocre [mikroi] into outriders and brilliant inventors. For what was unthought of yesterday will be clarifying and driving tomorrow.

Confusions will make sense - precisely because of the thinking of the minds in crisis, and because of the action of the despised, intruders, outside of all spin and predictability.

Life of pure Faith in the Spirit: i.e., the imagination of the 'weak'... in power.

Because it is the paradoxical mechanism that makes the crossroads of history assess, activates passions, creates sharing, solves real problems.

And so it supplants difficult moments forwards (bringing us back to the true path) by orienting reality to the concrete good.

Making it fly towards itself.

The 'win-or-lose' alternative is false: we must get out of it. It is in such 'emptiness' and Silence that God makes His way.

Mystery of Presence, overflowing. New Covenant.

Increasing faith: a dull, intimidated life, or the door of hope

Perhaps we too have been inculcated with the idea that we must ask for faith, so that God will increase it for us. Instead, we have a say, but not in the sense of a plea to Heaven.

Faith is a gift, but in the sense of a relational, face-to-face proposal and initiative; that asks for welcoming perception. Therefore, it does not grow by falling from a packet - as if by precipice, or by infusion from above. Even forcing it, and convincing the Father.

Nor is it a simple assent linked to good-naturedness. It is not a baggage of notions that some have and prove right; others less so, or not at all.

In falling in love one can be more or less involved!

Faith is not believing that God exists, but adhering to a springing suggestion that (without imposition) guides us to disregard reputation.

The person of Faith cares not for expense or risk, even for the lives of others. He holds particular customs in abeyance; he does not put circle affections first. Forgives without limit.

Often we agree only in part and accept a little bit - perhaps until love goes all the way, or calls us into question.

Thus the head, the quirks, the concatenation of values, and the small world to which we are attached.

Increasing Faith? The Gift is not a gift, but an Appeal.

Therefore, Jesus does not even respond to such a ridiculous request - nevertheless, it makes one think about the results of possible adherence.

All it would take is the slightest involvement and there would be extraordinary results in the world (v.6); in community, in families and in personal life.

We would achieve the impossible and important. Real problems would be solved. Even the simplest actions would be transformed.

Then there are great events planted in every man's heart, which we perhaps consider unrealisable: e.g. universal brotherhood, victory over hunger, a dignified and beautiful life for all, a world and a Church without volatile, corrupt and vain characters.

Because we consider them impossible situations, we don't even begin to build them - we immediately drop our arms.

But maturation is the result of secret sides, not of impermeable mental armour. 

As a Nobel Prize winner said: 'The innocent did not know that their project was impossible, that is why they carried it out'.

And it is not that after a life spent in service - at the bidding of the Principal - in the hereafter we will finally command, on the basis of the rank we have attained [although this too may have been passed on to us].

One of the wonders that Faith in Christ accomplishes in us - here and now - is to make us aware of the beauty and joy of having the freedom to come down from the pedestals we have already identified, in order to favour the full life (of all).

And at the 'end of the month' - at the 'reckoning' or the 'pay' - we will not finally become bosses - at least in heaven!

Because God is Communion, conviviality of differences; and He does not accept the servant-master scheme, even as a reward.

God does not want even one of his children to be lost and that his soul overflows with joy whenever a sinner is converted.

True religion thus consists in being attuned to this Heart, "rich in mercy", which asks us to love everyone, even those who are distant and our enemies, imitating the Heavenly Father who respects the freedom of each one and draws everyone to himself with the invincible power of his faithfulness.
This is the road Jesus points out to all who want to be his disciples: "Judge not... condemn not... forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you.... Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful" (Lk 6: 36-38). In these words we find very practical instructions for our daily conduct as believers.

[Pope Benedict, Angelus 16 September 2007]

1. "We implore you, in Christ's name:  be reconciled to God! For our sake God made him who did not know sin to be sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor 5: 20-21).

These are words of St Paul which the Church rereads every year on Ash Wednesday, at the beginning of Lent. In the Lenten season, the Church desires to be particularly united to Christ, who, moved inwardly by the Holy Spirit, began his messianic mission by going into the wilderness and fasting there for 40 days and 40 nights (cf. Mk 1: 12-13).

At the end of that fast he was tempted by Satan, as we are told briefly by the Evangelist Mark in today's liturgy (cf. 1: 13). Matthew and Luke, on the other hand, deal more amply with Christ's struggle in the desert and with his definitive victory over the tempter:  "Begone, Satan! For it is written, "You shall worship the Lord your God and him only shall you serve'" (Mt 4: 10).
The One speaking in this way is he "who did not know sin" (2 Cor 5: 21), Jesus, "the Holy One of God" (Mk 1: 24).

2. "He made him who did not know sin to be sin" (2 Cor 5: 21). A few moments ago, in the second reading, we heard this surprising assertion made by the Apostle. What do these words mean? They seem, and in effect are, a paradox. How could God, who is holiness itself, "make" his Only-begotten Son, sent into the world, "to be sin"? Yet this is exactly what we read in the passage from St Paul's Second Letter to the Corinthians. We are in the presence of a mystery:  a mystery which at first sight is baffling, but is clearly written in divine Revelation.

Already in the Old Testament, the Book of Isaiah speaks of it with inspired foresight in the fourth song of the Servant of Yahweh:  "We had all gone astray like sheep, each following his own way; but the Lord laid upon him the guilt of us all" (Is 53: 6).

Although Christ, the Holy One, was absolutely sinless, he agreed to take our sins upon himself. He agreed in order to redeem us; he agreed to bear our sins to fufil the mission he had received from the Father, who - as the Evangelist John writes - "so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him ... may have eternal life" (Jn 3: 16).

3. Before Christ who, out of love, took our guilt upon himself, we are all invited to make a profound examination of conscience. One of the characteristic elements of the Great Jubilee is what I described as the "purification of memory" (Bull Incarnationis mysterium, n. 11). As the Successor of Peter, I asked that "in this year of mercy the Church, strong in the holiness which she receives from her Lord, should kneel before God and implore forgiveness for the past and present sins of her sons and daughters" (ibid.). Today, the First Sunday of Lent, seemed to me the right occasion for the Church, gathered spiritually round the Successor of Peter, to implore divine forgiveness for the sins of all believers. Let us forgive and ask forgiveness!

This appeal has prompted a thorough and fruitful reflection, which led to the publication several days ago of a document of the International Theological Commission, entitled:  "Memory and Reconciliation:  The Church and the Faults of the Past". I thank everyone who helped to prepare this text. It is very useful for correctly understanding and carrying out the authentic request for pardon, based on the objective responsibility which Christians share as members of the Mystical Body, and which spurs today's faithful to recognize, along with their own sins, the sins of yesterday's Christians, in the light of careful historical and theological discernment.

Indeed, "because of the bond which unites us to one another in the Mystical Body, all of us, though not personally responsible and without encroaching on the judgement of God who alone knows every heart, bear the burden of the errors and faults of those who have gone before us" (Incarnationis mysterium, n. 11). The recognition of past wrongs serves to reawaken our consciences to the compromises of the present, opening the way to conversion for everyone.

4. Let us forgive and ask forgiveness! While we praise God who, in his merciful love, has produced in the Church a wonderful harvest of holiness, missionary zeal, total dedication to Christ and neighbour, we cannot fail to recognize the infidelities to the Gospel committed by some of our brethren, especially during the second millennium. Let us ask pardon for the divisions which have occurred among Christians, for the violence some have used in the service of the truth and for the distrustful and hostile attitudes sometimes taken towards the followers of other religions.

Let us confess, even more, our responsibilities as Christians for the evils of today. We must ask ourselves what our responsibilities are regarding atheism, religious indifference, secularism, ethical relativism, the violations of the right to life, disregard for the poor in many countries.

We humbly ask forgiveness for the part which each of us has had in these evils by our own actions, thus helping to disfigure the face of the Church.

At the same time, as we confess our sins, let us forgive the sins committed by others against us. Countless times in the course of history Christians have suffered hardship, oppression and persecution because of their faith. Just as the victims of such abuses forgave them, so let us forgive as well. The Church today feels and has always felt obliged to purify her memory of those sad events from every feeling of rancour or revenge. In this way the Jubilee becomes for everyone a favourable opportunity for a profound conversion to the Gospel. The acceptance of God's forgiveness leads to the commitment to forgive our brothers and sisters and to be reconciled with them.

5. But what does the word "reconciliation" mean to us? To grasp its precise sense and value, we must first recognize the possibility of division, of separation. Yes, man is the only creature on earth who can have a relationship of communion with his Creator, but he is also the only one who can separate himself from him. Unfortunately, he has frequently turned away from God.

Fortunately many people, like the prodigal son spoken of in the Gospel of Luke (cf. Lk 15: 13), after leaving their father's house and squandering their inheritance, reach the very bottom and realize how much they have lost (cf. Lk 15: 13-17). Then they set out to return home:  "I will arise and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned...'" (Lk 15: 18).

God, clearly represented by the father in the parable, welcomes every prodigal child who returns to him. He welcomes him through Christ, in whom the sinner can once again become "righteous" with the righteousness of God. He welcomes him, because for our sake he made his eternal Son to be sin. Yes, only through Christ can we become the righteousness of God (cf. 2 Cor 5: 21).

6. "God so loved the world that he gave his only Son". Here, in synthesis, is what the mystery of the world's redemption means! We must fully understand the value of the great gift the Father has given us in Jesus. We must keep the eyes of our soul fixed on Christ - the Christ of Gethesmane, Christ scourged, crowned with thorns, carrying the cross and, finally, crucified. Christ took upon himself the burden of the sins of all people, the burden of our own sins, so that through his saving sacrifice we might be reconciled to God.

Today, Saul of Tarsus who became St Paul, stands before us as a witness:  he had an extraordinary experience of the power of the Cross on the way to Damascus. The risen Christ revealed himself to him in all his dazzling power:  ""Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?'... "Who are you, Lord?' ... "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting'" (Acts 9: 4-5). Today Paul, who had such a powerful experience of the Cross of Christ, addresses a fervent prayer to us:  "We beg you not to receive the grace of God in vain". This grace is offered to us, St Paul insists, by God himself, who tells us today:  "In an acceptable time I have heard you; on a day of salvation I have helped you" (2 Cor 6: 1-2).

Mary, Mother of forgiveness, help us to accept the grace of forgiveness which the Jubilee generously offers us. Make the Lent of this extraordinary Holy Year an acceptable time, a time of reconciliation, a time of salvation for all believers and for everyone who is searching for God, the favourable time, the time of reconciliation, the time of salvation!

[Pope John Paul II, Homily Day of Forgiveness, Holy Year 2000, 12 March]

Today we will consider the fifth Beatitude which says: “Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy” (Mt 5:7). There is a peculiar aspect to this beatitude. It is the only one in which the cause and the fruit of happiness coincide: mercy. Those who show mercy will find mercy, they will be “shown mercy”.

This theme of reciprocity of forgiveness is not found only in this Beatitude, but is recurrent throughout the Gospel. How could it be otherwise? Mercy is the very heart of God! Jesus says: “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will not be condemned; forgive and you will be forgiven” (Lk 6:37). It is always the same reciprocity. And the Letter of James states that “mercy triumphs over judgment” (Jam 2:13).

But it is above all in the “Lord's Prayer” that we pray: “forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors” (Mt 6:12); and this question is taken up again at the end: “For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you; but if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses (Mt 6:14-15; cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2838).

There are two things that cannot be separated: forgiveness granted and forgiveness received. However, many people struggle; they cannot forgive. Often the harm received is so great that being able to forgive feels like climbing a very high mountain: an enormous effort; and one thinks: it cannot be done, this cannot be done. This fact of the reciprocity of mercy shows that we have to overturn the perspective. We cannot do this alone. We need God’s grace, we must ask for it. Indeed if the fifth Beatitude promises mercy, and in the “Lord's Prayer” we ask for the forgiveness of debts, it means that we are essentially debtors and we need to find mercy!

We are all debtors. All of us. To God who is so generous and to our brothers and sisters. Everyone knows that he/she is not the father or mother that he or she should be, the bride or groom, the brother or sister. We are all “in deficit” in life. And we need mercy. We know that we too have done wrong. There is always something lacking in the good that we should have done.

However, our very poverty becomes our strength to forgive! We are debtors and if, as we heard at the start, we shall be measured with the same measure with which we measure others (cf. Lk 6:38), then it would suit us to widen our measure and to forgive debts; to forgive. Each person should remember that they need to forgive, they are in need of forgiveness and they need patience. This is the secret to mercy: by forgiving one is forgiven. Thus God precedes us and he forgives us first (cf. Rom 5:8). In receiving his forgiveness, we too are capable of forgiving. One’s own misery and lack of justice therefore, become opportunities to open oneself up to the Kingdom of Heaven, to a greater measure, the measure of God who is mercy.

Where does our mercy come from? Jesus told us: “Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful” (Lk 6:36). The more one welcomes the Father’s love, the more we can love (cf. CCC 2842). Mercy is not a dimension among others but rather the centre of Christian life. There is no Christianity without mercy [Cf. Saint John Paul II, Encyclical Dives in Misericordia (30 November 1980); Misericordae Vultus Bull (11 April 2015); Apostolic Letter Misericordia et misera (20 November 2016)]. If all our Christianity does not lead us to mercy, then we have taken the wrong path because mercy is the only true destination of all spiritual journeys. It is one of the most beautiful fruits of mercy (cf. CCC 1829).

I remember that this theme was chosen for the first Angelus that I had to recite as Pope: mercy. And this has remained very much impressed on me, as a message that I would always have to offer as Pope, a message for everyday: mercy. I remember that on that day I even had an attitude that was somewhat “brazen”, as if I were advertising a book about mercy that had just been published by Cardinal Kasper. And on that day I felt very strongly that this is the message that I must offer as Bishop of Rome: mercy, mercy, please, forgiveness.

God’s mercy is our liberation and our happiness. We live of mercy and we cannot afford to be without mercy. It is the air that we breathe. We are too poor to set any conditions. We need to forgive because we need to be forgiven. Thank you!

[1] Cf. St John Paul II, Enc. Dives in misericordia (30 November 1980); Bull Misericordae Vultus (11 April 2015); Ap. Lett. Misericordia et misera (20 November 2016).

(Pope Francis, General Audience 18 March 2020)

First Lent Sunday [22 February 2026]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. I apologise if I dwell too long  today on the presentation of the texts, but it is central to Christian life to understand in depth the drama of Genesis (first reading), which St Paul takes up in the second reading, bringing it to full understanding. Similarly, the responsorial psalm can be understood starting from the drama recounted in Genesis chapter 3, and likewise the Gospel shows us how to react in order to live in the kingdom of God already on this earth. In my opinion, it is a vision of life that must be clearly focused in order to understand the drama of the practical and often unconscious rejection of God that is consummated in the world in the face of the crucial question: why is there evil in the world? Why does God not destroy it?  

 Have a good Lent.

*First Reading from the Book of Genesis (2:7-9; 3:1-7a)

In the first chapters of Genesis, two different figures of man appear: the first who lives happily in complete harmony with God and with woman. and creation (chap. 2), and then the man who claims his autonomy by taking for himself the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (chap. 3). Jesus sums up in himself 'all our weaknesses' (Heb 4:15), and, put to the test, he will be the sign of the new humanity: 'the last Adam became a life-giving spirit' (1 Cor 15:45).  Before tackling this text, we must remember that its author never claimed to be a historian. The Bible was written neither by scientists nor by historians, but by believers for believers. The theologian who wrote these lines, probably at the time of Solomon in the 10th century BC, seeks to answer the questions that everyone asks: why evil? Why death? Why misunderstandings between couples? Why is life so difficult? Why is work so tiring? Why is nature sometimes hostile? To answer these questions, he draws on a certainty shared by his entire people: the goodness of God. God freed us from Egypt; God wants us to be free and happy. Since the famous exodus from Egypt, led by Moses, and the crossing of the desert, during which God's presence and support were experienced at every new difficulty, there can be no doubt about this. The story we have just read is therefore based on this certainty of God's benevolence and seeks to answer all our questions about evil in the world. With a good and benevolent God, how is it possible that evil exists? Our author has invented a parable to enlighten us: a garden of delights (this is the meaning of the word 'Eden') and humanity represented by a couple charged with cultivating and caring for the garden. The garden is full of trees, each more attractive than the next. The one in the middle is called the 'tree of life'; its fruit can be eaten like all the others. But somewhere in the garden – the text does not specify where – there is another tree, whose fruit is forbidden. It is called the 'tree of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Faced with this prohibition, the couple can have two attitudes: either to trust, knowing that God is only benevolence, and rejoice in having access to the tree of life; if God forbids us the other tree, it is because it is not good for us. Or they can suspect God of having evil intentions, imagining that he wants to prevent us from accessing knowledge. This is the serpent's argument: he addresses the woman and feigns understanding: 'So, did God really say, "You must not eat from any tree in the garden"?' (3:1). The woman replies: "We may eat the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God has said, 'You must not eat the fruit of the tree in the middle of the garden, nor touch it, or you will die'" (3:2-4) . Have you noticed the shift: simply because she has listened to the voice of suspicion, she now speaks only of that tree and says 'the tree in the middle of the garden'; now, in good faith, she no longer sees  the tree of life in the centre of the garden, but the tree 'of the knowledge of what makes one happy or unhappy'. Her gaze is already altered, simply because she has allowed the serpent to speak to her; then the serpent can continue its slow work of demolition: "No, you will not die at all! Indeed, God knows that on the day you eat of it, your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil" (3:5). Once again, the woman listens too well to these beautiful words, and the text suggests that her gaze is increasingly distorted: 'The woman saw that the tree was good for food, pleasing to the eye, and desirable for gaining wisdom' (3:6). The serpent has won: the woman takes the fruit, eats it, gives it to her husband, and he eats it too. And so the story ends: "Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked" (v. 7).  The serpent had spoken well: "your eyes will be opened" (3:5); the woman's mistake was to believe that he was speaking in her interest and revealing God's evil intentions. It was nothing but a lie: her gaze changed, it is true, but it became distorted. It is no coincidence that the suspicion cast on God is represented by the features of a serpent: Israel, in the desert, had experienced poisonous snakes. Our theologian at Solomon's court recalls this painful experience and says: there is a poison more serious than that of the most poisonous snakes; the suspicion cast on God is a deadly poison, it poisons our lives. The idea of our anonymous theologian is that all our misfortunes come from this suspicion that corrodes humanity. To say that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is reserved for God is to say that only God knows what makes us happy or unhappy; which, after all, is logical if he is the one who created us. Wanting to eat the fruit of this forbidden tree at all costs means claiming to determine for ourselves what is good for us: the warning 'You must not eat it and you must not touch it, otherwise you will die' clearly indicated that this was the wrong path to take. 

But wait! The story goes even further: during the journey through the desert, God gave the Law (the Torah) which from then on had to be observed, what we call the commandments. We know that the daily practice of this Law is the condition for the survival and harmonious growth of this people; if we truly knew that God only wants our life, our happiness, our freedom, we would trust and obey the Law with a good heart. It is truly the "tree of life" made available to us by God.

I said at the beginning that this is a parable, but it is a parable whose lesson applies to each of us; since the world began, it has always been the same story. St Paul (whom we read this Sunday in the second reading) continues his meditation and says: only Christ trusted the Father in everything; he shows us the way of Life.

Note: In the Hebrew text, the serpent's question is deliberately ambiguous: 'Did God really say, "You shall not eat of any tree in the garden"? 'הֲכִי־אָמַר אֱלֹהִים לֹא תֹאכְלוּ מִכֹּל עֵץ הַגָּן? " Ha-ki amar Elohim lo tochlu mikol etz ha-gan? Put this way, the question can be understood in a restrictive sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all trees" as a total negation. Or in a general and colloquial sense: "Did God really say, 'You shall not eat of any tree in the garden'?" interpreting "all" in an absolute sense, or as all trees except one, the tree of life or the other of the knowledge of good and evil. The serpent uses this ambiguity to sow doubt and suspicion, insinuating that God might be lying or withholding something good. In the oldest Hebrew manuscripts, there are no punctuation marks as we know them today, so the play on words and the double meaning were intentionally stronger. Exegetes note that the serpent does not make a clear statement but forms a subtle question that shifts the focus to doubt: "Perhaps God is deceiving you?" This account in Genesis has many resonances in the meditation of the people of Israel. One of the reflections suggested by the text concerns the tree of life: planted in the middle of the garden of Eden, it was accessible to man and its fruit was permitted. One might think that its fruit allowed man to remain alive, to that spiritual life that God had breathed into him: "The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being" (Gen 2:7). The rabbis then made the connection with the Law given by God on Sinai. In fact, it is accepted by believers as a gift from God, a support for daily life: 'My son, do not forget my teaching, but keep my commands in your heart, for they will prolong your life and bring you peace' (Pr 3:1-2). . 

NB For further clarification, I would add this: There is the first prohibition: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in Genesis 2:16-17, God sets only one limit on man: "Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil thou shalt not eat." The tree of life is not forbidden at this point. The prohibition concerns only the tree of the knowledge of good and evil because God is the one who decides what is good and what is evil, and man is called to trust, not to replace God. Eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge means saying, 'I do not trust God; I decide what is good and what is evil'. After sin, there is a second prohibition (the tree of life) because the situation changes radically. In Genesis 3:22-24, we read: 'Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever'. Only after sin does God prevent access to the tree of life. Why? Because man, separated from God by sin, cannot live forever like this. Living eternally with the consequences of sin would be a condemnation, not a gift. God therefore protects man from a distorted immortality. In other words, God does not take life away as punishment, but to prevent evil from becoming eternal.

*Responsorial Psalm (50/51)

"Have mercy on me, O God, in your love; according to your great mercy, blot out my sin. Wash me completely from my guilt, purify me from my offence." The people of Israel are gathered for a great penitential celebration in the Temple of Jerusalem. They recognise themselves as sinners, but they also know God's inexhaustible mercy. After all, if they are gathered to ask for forgiveness, it is because they already know in advance that forgiveness has been granted. This, let us remember, was King David's great discovery: David took Bathsheba, with whom he had fallen in love, and had her husband Uriah killed, because a few days later, Bathsheba was expecting a child by him. When the prophet Nathan went to David, he did not first seek a word of repentance from him; instead, he began by reminding him of all God's gifts and announcing his forgiveness, even before David had had time to make the slightest confession (2 Sam 12). In essence, he said to him, 'Look at all that God has given you... well, know that he is ready to give you anything else you want!'. And a thousand times throughout its history, Israel has been able to verify that God is truly 'the merciful and compassionate Lord, slow to anger and rich in love and faithfulness', according to the revelation he granted to Moses in the desert (Ex 34:6). The prophets also transmitted this message, and the few verses of the psalm we have just heard are full of these discoveries of Isaiah and Ezekiel. Isaiah, for example: "It is I, I who blot out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins" (Is 43:25); or again: "I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you" (Is 44:22).

This proclamation of God's gratuitous forgiveness sometimes surprises us: it seems too good, perhaps; for some it even seems unfair: if everything is forgivable, what is the point of making an effort? Perhaps we are too quick to forget that we all, without exception, need God's mercy; so let us not complain about it! And let us not be surprised if God surprises us, for, as Isaiah says, "God's thoughts are not our thoughts". And Isaiah himself points out that it is above all in the matter of forgiveness that God surprises us most. The only condition required is to recognise ourselves as sinners. When the prodigal son (Lk 15) returns to his father, for reasons that are not very noble, Jesus puts a phrase from Psalm 50 on his lips: "Against you, against you alone, have I sinned," and this simple phrase restores the bond that the ungrateful young man had broken. Faced with this ever-renewed proclamation of God's mercy, the people of Israel — for it is they who speak here, as in all the psalms — recognise themselves as sinners: the confession is not detailed, as it never is in the penitential psalms, but the essential is said in this plea: "Have mercy on me, O God, in your love, according to your great mercy, blot out my sin... And God, who is all mercy, that is, as if drawn by misery, expects nothing more than this simple recognition of our poverty. The word "mercy" has the same root as the word "alms": literally, we are beggars before God. Two things remain to be done. First of all, simply give thanks for the forgiveness granted without ceasing; the praise that the people of Israel address to God is the recognition of the goodness with which he has filled them since the beginning of their history. This clearly shows that the most important prayer in a penitential celebration is thanksgiving for God's gifts and forgiveness: we must begin by contemplating Him, and only then, when this contemplation has revealed to us the gap between Him and us, can we recognise ourselves as sinners. The ritual of reconciliation says this clearly in its introduction: 'We confess God's love together with our sin'. And the song of gratitude will flow spontaneously from our lips: we need only allow God to open our hearts. "Lord, open my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise"; some recognise here the first sentence of the Liturgy of the Hours each morning; in fact, it is taken from Psalm 50/51. This alone is a true lesson: praise and gratitude can only arise in us if God opens our hearts and our lips. St Paul puts it another way: 'God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba!", that is, "Father!"' (Gal 4:6). This irresistibly brings to mind a gesture of Jesus in the Gospel of Mark: the healing of a deaf-mute; touching his ears and tongue, Jesus said, 'Ephphatha', which means 'Be opened'. And then, spontaneously, those present applied to Jesus a phrase that the Bible reserved for God: "He makes the deaf hear and the mute speak" (cf. Is 35:5-6). Even today, in some baptismal celebrations, the celebrant repeats this gesture of Jesus on the baptised, saying: "The Lord Jesus has made the deaf hear and the mute speak; may he grant you to hear his word and proclaim your faith, to the praise and glory of God the Father". The second thing to do, and what God expects of us, is to forgive in turn, without delay or conditions... and this is a serious undertaking in our lives.

*Second Reading from the Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Romans (5:12-19)

Adam was a figure of the one who was to come, Paul tells us; he speaks of Adam in the past tense because he refers to the book of Genesis and the story of the forbidden fruit, but for him Adam's drama is not a story of the past: this story is ours, every day; we are all Adam at times; the rabbis say, 'everyone is Adam to himself'.

And if we were to summarise the story of the Garden of Eden (which we reread in this Sunday's first reading), we could say this: by listening to the voice of the serpent rather than God's command, by allowing suspicion about God's intentions to invade their hearts, by believing that they could allow themselves everything, that they could 'know' everything - as the Bible says — man and woman placed themselves under the dominion of death. And when we say, 'everyone is Adam to himself', it means that every time we turn away from God, we allow the powers of death to invade our lives. St Paul, in his letter to the Romans, continues the same meditation and announces that humanity has taken a decisive step in Jesus Christ; we are all brothers and sisters of Adam and we are all brothers and sisters of Jesus Christ; we are brothers and sisters of Adam when we allow the poison of suspicion to infest our hearts, when we presume to make ourselves the law. We are brothers and sisters of Christ when we trust God enough to let him guide our lives. We are under the dominion of death when we behave like Adam; when we behave like Jesus, that is, like him, 'obedient' (i.e. trusting), we are already resurrected in the kingdom of life, the one John speaks of: 'He who believes in me, even if he dies, will live', a life that biological death does not interrupt. Let us return to the account in the Book of Genesis: The Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground; he breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being. This breath of God that makes man a living being – as the text says – was not given to animals: yet they are very much alive in a biological sense; we can therefore deduce that man enjoys a life different from biological life. St Paul affirms that because of Adam, death has reigned: he uses the terms 'reign' and 'reign over' several times, showing that there are two kingdoms that confront each other: the kingdom of sin when humanity acts like Adam, which brings death, judgement and condemnation. Then there is the kingdom of Christ, that is, with him, the new humanity, which is the kingdom of grace, of life, of free gift, of justification. However, no man is entirely in the kingdom of Christ, and Paul himself recognises this: 'I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want' (Rom 7:19). . Adam, that is, humanity, was created to be king, to cultivate and keep the garden, as we read in the book of Genesis, but, ill-advised by the serpent, he wants to do everything by himself, with his own strength, cutting himself off from God. Jesus Christ, on the contrary, does not 'claim' this kingship: it is given to him. As Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians: "though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself" (2:6, NRSV). The story of the Garden of Eden says the same thing in images: before the Fall, man and woman could eat the fruit of the tree of life; after the Fall, they no longer have access to it. Each in its own way, these two texts – that of Genesis on the one hand and that of the letter to the Romans on the other – tell us the deepest truth of our lives: with God, everything is grace, everything is a free gift; and Paul here insists on the abundance, on the profusion of grace, even speaking of the 'disproportion' of grace: It is not like the fall, the free gift... much more, God's grace has been poured out in abundance on the multitude, this grace given in one man, Jesus Christ. Everything is a gift, and this is not surprising since, as St John says, God is Love. It is not because Christ behaved well that he received a reward, and Adam received punishment because of his misconduct. Paul's discourse is deeper: Christ lives in total trust that everything will be given to him in God... and everything is given to him in the Resurrection. Adam, that is, each one of us, often wants to take possession of what can only be received as a gift, and for this reason finds himself 'naked', that is, deprived of everything. We could say that by birth we are citizens of the kingdom of Adam; through baptism we have asked to be naturalised in the kingdom of Christ. Obedience and disobedience in Paul's sense could thus be replaced: 'obedience' with trust and 'disobedience' with mistrust; as Kierkegaard says: "The opposite of sin is not virtue; the opposite of sin is faith." If we reread the story of Genesis, we can see that the author intentionally did not give proper names to the man and woman; he spoke of Adam (derived from adamah, meaning earth, dust), which means 'human being taken from the earth', while Eve (derived from Chavah, meaning life) is the one who gives life. By not giving them names, he wanted us to understand that the drama of Adam and Eve is not the story of particular individuals, but the story of every human being, and has always been so.

*From the Gospel according to Matthew (4:1-11)

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil" . The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between Jesus' baptism and the temptations that immediately follow. Matthew had said a few verses earlier: Jesus "will save his people from their sins", which is precisely the meaning of the name Jesus. John the Baptist baptises Jesus in the Jordan even though he did not agree and had said: " I need to be baptised by you, and yet you come to me!" (Mt 3:14)... And it came to pass that when Jesus came up out of the water after his baptism, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased."

This phrase alone publicly announces that Jesus is truly the Messiah: because the expression 'Son of God' was synonymous with King-Messiah, and the phrase 'the beloved, in whom I am well pleased' (3:17) refers to one of the songs of the Servant in Isaiah. In a few words, Matthew reminds us of the whole mystery of the person of Jesus; and it is he, precisely, who is the Messiah, the Saviour, the Servant who will confront the Tempter. Like his people a few centuries earlier, he is led into the desert; like his people, he knows hunger; like his people, he must discover what God's will is for his children; like his people, he must choose before whom to bow down. "If you are the Son of God," repeats the Tempter, thus revealing the real problem; and Jesus is confronted with it, not only three times, but throughout his earthly life. What does it mean, in concrete terms, to be the Messiah? The question takes various forms: solving people's problems with miracles, such as turning stones into bread? Provoking God to test his promises? ... By throwing himself from the temple, for example, because Psalm 91 promised that God would rescue his Messiah... Possessing the world, dominating, reigning at any cost, even worshipping any idol? Even ceasing to be the Son? It should be noted that in the third temptation, the Tempter no longer repeats "If you are the Son of God".

The culmination of these temptations is that they target God's promises: they promise nothing more than what God himself promised to his Messiah. And the two interlocutors, the Tempter and Jesus, know this well. But here's the thing... God's promises are in the order of love; they can only be received as gifts; love cannot be demanded, it cannot be seized, it is received on bended knee, with gratitude. Ultimately, the same thing happens as in the Garden of Genesis: Adam knows, and rightly so, that he was created to be king, to be free, to be master of creation; but instead of accepting gifts as gifts, with gratitude and appreciation, he demands, he claims, he places himself on a par with God... He leaves the order of love and can no longer receive the love offered... he finds himself poor and naked. Jesus makes the opposite choice: 'Get behind me, Satan!' as he once said to Peter, adding, 'Your thoughts are not those of God, but those of men' (Mt 16:23). Furthermore, several times in this text, Matthew calls the Tempter "devil," which in Greek means "the one who divides." Satan is for each of us, as he is for Jesus himself, the one who tends to separate us from God, to see things in Adam's way and not in God's way. On closer inspection, it all lies in the gaze: Adam's is distorted; to keep his gaze clear, Jesus scrutinises the Word of God: the three responses to the Tempter are quotations from the book of Deuteronomy (chapter 8), in a passage that is precisely a meditation on the temptations of the people of Israel in the desert. Then, Matthew points out, the devil (the divider) leaves him; he has not succeeded in dividing, in turning away the Son's heart. This recalls St John's phrase in the Prologue (Jn 1:1): 'In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God (pros ton Theon, which means turned towards God), and the Word was God'. . The devil has not succeeded in turning the Son's heart away, and so he is then completely available to receive God's gifts: "Behold, angels came and ministered to him."

NB At the request of some, I would also like to present the homily I am preparing for this first Sunday of Lent.

Homily – First Sunday of Lent

Every year, Lent begins with the story of Jesus' temptations in the desert: we must believe that this is a truly fundamental text! This year we read it according to St Matthew. After recounting the baptism of Jesus, Matthew immediately continues: "Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil." The evangelist thus invites us to make a connection between the baptism of Jesus and the temptations that immediately follow. When Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming upon him. And a voice came from heaven, saying, 'This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased'. Jesus is the 'Son of God', the Messiah, the Saviour, the servant of God who will face the Tempter. Satan will say just that: "If you are the Son of God," thus revealing the real problem, which is the attempt to separate Jesus' divine identity from his way of living it, or better yet, to push Jesus to use his divine power without the trust of a son and his humanity without obedience. To understand this better, we must return to the first reading from the book of Genesis, where the tempting serpent promises Eve: "You will be like God" (Gen 3:5). The temptation is not only about a fruit that should not be eaten, but about autonomy from God, the desire to decide for oneself what is good and evil, without trusting the Father. Adam and Eve allowed themselves to be persuaded and found themselves naked. They lost everything!

In the desert, the devil now tempts Jesus, the new Adam, a true man like us except for sin, and launches three provocations: 1. "Say that these stones become bread." The temptation to live without depending on God, to seek immediate satisfaction. There is a hunger that goes beyond bread and that only God can satisfy. But this means trusting God, and Jesus responds: 'It is written: Man shall not live by bread alone' (Mt 4:4). 2nd temptation. The devil raises the stakes: "Throw yourself down" from the temple and the angels will catch you. Here is the temptation to manipulate God, to ask for spectacular signs to confirm one's faith. This is a very subtle temptation today, but one that is very common when we believe in making the liturgy, evangelisation and ecclesial events spectacular. Jesus teaches us to spread the Gospel like yeast in dough and a small seed in the ground: everything happens in silence because we must not believe that we are protagonists but lives always hidden in God, even when we act publicly. It is not our work to convert the world. Let us listen to Jesus who replies: "It is written: You shall not tempt the Lord your God" (Mt 4:7). . 3. In the third temptation, it should be noted that the Tempter no longer repeats 'If you are the Son of God', because Satan believes himself to be the master of the world and so he can say to him, 'I will give you everything if you bow down to me'. It is the temptation of power and compromise, of bending one's life to immediate advantages. It is very dangerous because it often involves the idea that we can accept anything in order to evangelise, but we are not the masters! Jesus replies: "It is written: You shall worship the Lord your God and him alone shall you serve" (Mt 4:10). 

Let us note something decisive: Jesus does not respond with his own intelligence or strength, but always by referring to the Word of God, which is the only true light that can guide man's journey through the desert of life, a journey that is often dark and full of pitfalls. This is because the Word of God is the light of truth that never goes out. St John Chrysostom reminds us: "In Scripture we find not only words, but the strength we need to overcome evil; it is the nourishment of the soul and the light that guides those who walk in darkness" (Homilies on Matthew, 4th century).   Even when the world rejects God, even when the right choices seem uncomfortable or losing, Scripture remains the sure guide. How can we apply this to our lives? Today, being a Christian is often difficult: faith can be mocked or ignored, the Gospel seems useless, Christ is fought against and sometimes tolerated, but not welcomed. Lent invites us to make a daily choice: who guides our lives? Do we want to do everything on our own, like Eve and Adam in Eden, choosing what seems most convenient? Or do we entrust ourselves to God, allowing his Word to enlighten our decisions and give meaning even to our difficulties? Following Christ means choosing fidelity, even when the world goes against it. It means living our lives as Christians without compromise, basing ourselves not on personal strength, but on the living Word of God. We are always sustained by a certain and concrete hope: the Gospel ends with a silent promise: 'Then the devil left him' (Mt 4:11). Those who entrust themselves to God are not left alone in their trials. Temptation may seem powerful, but those who walk in the light of the Word are never defeated.

+Giovanni D’Ercole