Solemnity of Christ the King of the Universe [23 November 2025]

May God bless us and may the Virgin protect us. We close the liturgical year C with grateful hearts as we prepare to resume our journey with Advent.

*First Reading from the Second Book of Samuel (5:1-3)

These are the first steps of the monarchy in Israel. It all begins in Hebron, an ancient city in the mountains of Judea, where the patriarchs of Israel rest: Abraham and Sarah, Isaac and Rebecca, Jacob and Leah, and even Joseph, whose bones were brought back from Egypt. It is a place steeped in memory and faith, and it is here that David becomes king of all the twelve tribes of Israel. After the death of Moses, around 1200 BC, the people of Israel settled in Palestine. The tribes lived independently, united only by the memory of their liberation from Egypt and their faith in their one God. In times of danger, God raised up temporary leaders, the Judges, who guided the people and often also acted as prophets. One of these was Samuel, a great man of God. Over time, however, the Israelites wanted to be 'like other peoples' and asked Samuel for a king. The prophet was troubled by this, because Israel was to recognise only God as King, but in the end, on God's command, he consecrated Saul, the first king of Israel. After a promising start, Saul fell into disobedience and madness, and God chose another man: David, the young shepherd from Bethlehem, on whom Samuel poured the oil of anointing. David did not immediately take power: he served Saul faithfully, became his musician and valiant warrior, loved by the people and bound by deep friendship to Jonathan, Saul's son. But the king's jealousy turned to hatred, and David was forced to flee, while always refusing to raise his hand against 'the Lord's anointed'. After Saul's death, Israel was divided: David reigned in Hebron over the tribe of Judah, while in the north, one of Saul's sons reigned for a short time. When the latter was killed, the northern tribes gathered at Hebron and recognised David as their king. On that day, the united kingdom of Israel was born: twelve tribes under one shepherd, chosen by God and recognised by his brothers. The anointing with sacred oil made David the 'Messiah', that is, the 'anointed one of the Lord'. He was to be a king after God's own heart, a shepherd who would lead his people towards unity and peace. But history showed how difficult it was to realise this ideal. Nevertheless, hope did not die: Israel always waited for the true Messiah, the descendant of David who would establish an eternal kingdom. And a thousand years later, Jesus Christ, called "Son of David," presented himself as the Good Shepherd, the one who offers his life for his flock. Every Sunday, in the Eucharist, he renews his covenant and tells us: "You are of my own blood."

*Responsorial Psalm (121/122:1-2, 3-4, 5-6a, 7a)

"What joy when they said to me, 'We will go to the house of the Lord'." A pilgrim recounts his emotion: after a long journey, his feet finally stop at the gates of Jerusalem. We are in the time of the return from Babylonian exile: the city has been rebuilt, the Temple restored (around 515 BC), and the people find in the house of the Lord the living sign of the Covenant. Before the resurrected city, the pilgrim exclaims: Jerusalem, here you are within your walls, a compact city, where everything together forms one body! Jerusalem is not only a geographical location: it is the heart of God's people, a symbol of unity and communion. Every stone, every wall reminds us that Israel is a people gathered together by a single promise and a common destiny. God himself wanted Israel to make an annual pilgrimage to Jerusalem, so that the common journey and shared effort would keep the bond of the Covenant alive. This is why the Psalm proclaims: "There the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord... to praise the name of the Lord." The verb "to go up" indicates both the elevated position of the city and the spiritual ascent of the people towards their liberating God, the same God who brought them up, that is, out of Egypt. The phrase 'the tribes of the Lord' recalls the mutual belonging of the Covenant: 'You shall be my people, and I will be your God.' The pilgrimage, made on foot, amid fatigue, thirst and songs, is a journey of faith and fraternity. When the pilgrim exclaims, 'Now our journey is over!', he expresses the joy of one who has reached not only a geographical destination but also a spiritual one: the encounter with God in the city of his presence. Giving thanks to the Lord is Israel's vocation. Until the whole world recognises God, Israel is called to be the people of thanksgiving in the world, witnesses to divine faithfulness. Thus, every pilgrimage to Jerusalem renews Israel's mission: to give thanks, to praise and to show the way to other nations. The prophet Isaiah had foretold this universal plan: "At the end of days, the mountain of the Lord's temple will be firm on the top of the mountains, and all nations will flock to it... From Zion will go forth the law, and from Jerusalem the word of the Lord." (Is 2:2-3) Jerusalem then becomes a prophetic sign of the renewed world, where all peoples will be united in the same praise and the same peace. The Psalm recalls again: "There the thrones of judgement are set, the thrones of the house of David." With these words, Israel recalls the promise made by God to David through the prophet Nathan: "I will raise up a king from your descendants, and I will make his kingdom firm." (2 Sam 7:12). After the exile, there is no longer a king on the throne, but the promise remains alive: God does not go back on his word. In the celebrations at the Temple, this memory becomes prayer and hope: the day will come when God will raise up a king after his own heart, just and faithful, who will restore peace and justice. The very name Jerusalem means "city of peace." When we pray, "Pray for the peace of Jerusalem; may those who love you be secure" (Ps 122:6), we are not simply expressing a wish, but a profession of faith: only God can give true peace, and Israel is called to be a witness to this in the world. With the passing of the centuries, the hope for a righteous king is fulfilled in Jesus Christ, the Son of David. It is He who inaugurates the Kingdom of life and truth, of grace and holiness, of justice, love and peace, as proclaimed in the liturgy of the feast of Christ the King. In Him, the earthly Jerusalem becomes the new Jerusalem, the city of the definitive encounter between God and man. Every Eucharist is an ascent towards that city, a pilgrimage of the soul that ends in the heart of God. Israel's pilgrimage to Jerusalem then becomes a symbol of the journey of all humanity towards communion with God. And like the pilgrims of the Psalm, we too, the Church of the New Testament, can say with joy: "What joy when they said to me, 'We will go to the house of the Lord'."

*Second Reading from the letter of St. Paul the Apostle to the Colossians (1:12-20)

The invisible face of God. Once upon a time, there was a world that sought God but did not know how to see him. People looked up to the sky, built temples, offered sacrifices, but God remained invisible, distant. Then, one day, the Word became flesh: the God whom no one had ever seen took on a human face, and that face was that of Jesus of Nazareth. Since then, every time a man looks at Jesus, he looks at God. St Paul said it with words that sound like a song: "He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation." In Him, everything that exists finds its origin and meaning. He is not only the beginning of the world, but also its heart: in Him everything was created, and in Him everything was reconciled. This plan of God did not come about yesterday, and Paul speaks of a design that has always been in place: 'He has delivered us from the power of darkness and transferred us to the Kingdom of the Son of his love.' God has always dreamed of a free, luminous human being, capable of communion. But what God had prepared in eternity was realised in time, in the present of Christ. This is why Paul writes: "In Him we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins." The mystery of Jesus is not a memory; it is a living reality that continues to work in the hearts of believers every day. God had made man "in His own image and likeness." But that image, in sin, had become clouded. So God Himself came to show us what it means to be human. In Jesus, man is restored to his original beauty. When Pilate shows him to the crowd and says, 'Behold the man!', he does not know that he is uttering a prophecy: in that wounded face, in that humble silence, the true man is revealed, as God had intended him to be. But in that face there is also the face of God. Jesus is the visibility of the invisible. He is God who allows himself to be seen, touched, heard. "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father," he will say to Philip. And Paul will add: "In him dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily." In Jesus, God and man meet forever. The infinite has taken flesh, heaven has become flesh. This is the mystery of the Cross. But how can the Cross be a sign of peace and reconciliation? Paul explains it this way: "God wanted to reconcile all things to himself, making peace through the blood of his cross." It is not God who wants the suffering of his Son. It is the hatred of men that kills him. Yet God transforms that hatred into redeeming love. It is the great reversal of history: violence becomes forgiveness, death becomes life, the cross becomes a tree of peace. We have seen men in history who have witnessed to peace and been killed for it — Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Itzhak Rabin, Sadat... — but only Christ, being both man and God, was able to transform evil into grace for the whole world. In his forgiveness of his crucifiers — “Father, forgive them” — God’s own forgiveness is revealed. From that day on, we know that no sin is greater than God’s love. On the cross, everything is accomplished. Paul writes: “God wanted all fullness to dwell in him, and through him to reconcile everything.” Creation finally finds its unity, its peace. The first to enter this Kingdom is the repentant thief: "Today you will be with me in paradise." And from then on, every person who opens themselves to forgiveness enters into that same light. The Eucharist is the heart of the mystery. Faced with such a gift, there is only one possible response: to give thanks. This is why Paul invites us: "Give thanks to God the Father, who has made you capable of sharing in the lot of the saints in the light." The Eucharist — in Greek, eucharistia means precisely "giving thanks" — is the place where the Church relives this mystery. Every Mass is a living memory of this reconciliation: God gives himself, the world is renewed, man finds himself again. It is there that everything is recomposed: the visible and the invisible, earth and heaven, man and God. And so, in the history of the world, a face has revealed the invisible. A pierced heart has brought peace. A broken loaf continues to make present the fullness of love. And every time the Church gathers for the Eucharist, Paul's song is renewed as a cosmic praise: Christ is the image of the invisible God, the first and the last, the one who reconciles the world with the Father, the one in whom everything subsists. In Him, everything finds meaning. In Him, everything is grace. In Him, the invisible God finally has a face: Jesus Christ, Lord of heaven and earth.

*From the Gospel according to Luke (23:35-43)

The logic of men and the logic of God. Three times, at the foot of the cross, the same provocation is repeated to Jesus: "If you are..." — "If you are the Messiah," the religious leaders mock; 'If you are the King of the Jews', sneer the Roman soldiers; 'If you are the Messiah', insults one of the criminals crucified with him. Each speaks from his own point of view: the leaders of Israel expect a powerful Messiah, but before them is a defeated and crucified man; the soldiers, men of earthly power, laugh at a defenceless 'king'; the criminal, on the other hand, awaits a saviour who will free him from death. These three voices recall the three temptations in the desert (Lk 4): even then, the tempter repeated, 'If you are the Son of God...'. Temptations of power, dominion and miracles. Jesus responded each time with the Word: 'It is written: man does not live on bread alone...' 'You shall worship the Lord your God and him alone shall you serve...' 'You shall not tempt the Lord your God'. Scripture was his strength to remain faithful to the mission of the poor and obedient Messiah. On the cross, however, Jesus is silent. He no longer responds to provocations. Yet he knows well who he is: the Messiah, the Saviour. But not according to the logic of men, who would like a God capable of saving himself, of dominating, of winning by force. Jesus dies precisely because he does not correspond to this human logic. His logic is that of God: to save by giving himself, without imposing himself. His silence is not empty, but full of trust. His very name, Jesus, means 'God saves'. He awaits his redemption from God alone, not from himself. The temptations are overcome forever: he remains faithful, totally surrendered into the hands of men, but trusting in the Father. Amidst the insults, two words encapsulate the mystery of the Cross. The first: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." The second, addressed to the "good thief": "Today you will be with me in Paradise." Forgiveness and salvation: two gestures that are both divine and human. In Jesus, God himself forgives and reconciles humanity. The repentant thief — who turns to him and says, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom" — is the first to understand who Christ truly is. He does not ask to come down from the cross, but to be welcomed. In that plea of humility and trust, the "remember" becomes the prayer that opens Paradise. Where Adam, in the Garden of Eden, had succumbed to the temptation to "be like God," Jesus, the new Adam, wins by waiting for everything from God. Adam had wanted to decide his own greatness and had been cast out of Paradise; Jesus, on the other hand, by accepting to be the Son in total abandonment, reopens Paradise to humanity. In the story of the Passion, two logics intersect: that of men, who seek a powerful God, and that of God, who saves through love and weakness. Jesus rejects the temptation to demonstrate his strength; instead, he chooses to trust the Father until the end. In his silence and forgiveness, divine power manifests itself as mercy. Beside him, the repentant thief becomes the first witness of the Kingdom: he recognises Christ as the true King, not of the powerful, but of the saved. Where Adam had closed the gates of Paradise, Jesus reopens them: 'Today you will be with me in Paradise' is God's definitive response to the logic of the world.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

XXXIII Sunday in Ordinary Time C [16 November 2025]

First Reading from the Book of the Prophet Malachi (3:19-20a)

When Malachi wrote these words around 450 BC, the people were discouraged: faith seemed to be dying out, even among the priests of Jerusalem, who now celebrated worship in a superficial manner. Everyone asked themselves: 'What is God doing? Has he forgotten us? Life is unfair! The wicked succeed in everything, so what is the point of being the chosen people and observing the commandments? Where is God's justice?" The prophet then fulfils his task: to reawaken faith and inner energy. He rebukes priests and lay people, but above all he proclaims that God is just and that his plan of justice is advancing irresistibly. "Behold, the day of the Lord is coming": history is not a repeating cycle, but is moving towards fulfilment. For those who believe, this is a truth of faith: the day of the Lord is coming. Depending on the image that each person has of God, this coming can be frightening or arouse ardent expectation. But for those who recognise that God is Father, the day of the Lord is good news, a day of love and light. Malachi uses the image of the sun: "Behold, the day of the Lord is coming, burning like an oven." This is not a threat! At the beginning of the book, God says, "I love you" (Malachi 1:2) and "I am Father" (Malachi 1:6). The "furnace" is not punishment, but a symbol of God's burning love. Just as the disciples of Emmaus felt their hearts burning within them, so those who encounter God are enveloped in the warmth of his love. The 'sun of righteousness' is therefore a fire of love: on the day we encounter God, we will be immersed in this burning ocean of mercy. God cannot help but love, especially all that is poor, naked and defenceless. This is the very meaning of mercy: a heart that bends over misery. Malachi also speaks of judgement. The sun, in fact, can burn or heal: it is ambivalent. In the same way, the 'Sun of God' reveals everything, illuminating without leaving any shadows: no lie or hypocrisy can hide from its light. God's judgement is not destruction, but revelation and purification. The sun will 'burn' the arrogant and the wicked, but it will 'heal' those who fear his name. Arrogance and closed hearts will be consumed like straw; humility and faith will be transfigured. Pride and humility, selfishness and love coexist in each of us. God's judgement will take place within us: what is 'straw' will burn, what is 'good seed' will sprout in God's sun. It will be a process of inner purification, until the image and likeness of God shines within us. Malachi also uses two other images: that of the smelter, who purifies gold not to destroy it, but to make it shine in all its beauty; and that of the bleacher, who does not ruin the garment, but makes it shine. Thus, God's judgement is a work of light: everything that is love, service and mercy will be exalted; everything that is not love will disappear. In the end, only what reflects the face of God will remain. The historical context helps us to understand this text: Israel is experiencing a crisis of faith and hope after the exile; the priests are lukewarm and the people are disillusioned. The prophet's message: God is neither absent nor unjust. His 'day' will come: it is the moment when his justice and love will be fully manifested. The central image is the Sun of Justice, symbol of God's purifying love. Like the sun, divine love burns and heals, consumes evil and makes good flourish. In each of us, God does not condemn, but transforms everything into salvation by discerning what glorifies love and dissolves pride. Fire, the sun, the smelter and the bleacher indicate the purification that leads to the original beauty of man created in the image of God. Finally, there is nothing to fear: for those who believe, the day of the Lord reveals love. "The sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings" (Malachi 3:20).

Responsorial Psalm (97/98:5-6, 7-8, 9)

This psalm transports us ideally to the end of time, when all creation, renewed, joyfully acclaims the coming of the Kingdom of God. The text speaks of the sea and its riches, the world and its inhabitants, the rivers and the mountains: all creation is involved. St Paul, in his Letter to the Ephesians (1:9-10), reminds us that this is God's eternal plan: 'to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, Christ'. God wants to reunite everything, to create full communion between the cosmos and creatures, to establish universal harmony. In the psalm, this harmony is already sung as accomplished: the sea roars, the rivers clap their hands, the mountains rejoice. It is God's dream, already announced by the prophet Isaiah (11:6-9): 'The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid... no one shall do evil or destruction on all my holy mountain'. But the reality is very different: man knows the dangers of the sea, conflicts with nature and with his fellow men. Creation is marked by struggle and disharmony. However, biblical faith knows that the day will come when the dream will become reality, because it is God's own plan. The role of prophets, such as Isaiah, is to revive the hope of this messianic Kingdom of justice and faithfulness. The Psalms also tirelessly repeat the reasons for this hope: Psalm 97(98) sings of the Kingdom of God as the restoration of order and universal peace. After so many unjust kings, a Kingdom of justice and righteousness is awaited. The people sing as if everything were already accomplished: "Sing hymns to the Lord who comes to judge the earth... and the peoples with righteousness." At the beginning of the psalm, the wonders of the past are recalled—the exodus from Egypt, God's faithfulness in the history of Israel—but now it is proclaimed that God is coming: his Kingdom is certain, even if not yet fully visible. The experience of the past becomes a guarantee of the future: God has already shown his faithfulness, and this allows the believer to joyfully anticipate the coming of the Kingdom. As Psalm 89(90) says: "A thousand years in your sight are like yesterday." And Saint Peter (2 Pt 3:8-9) reminds us that God does not delay his promise, but waits for the conversion of all. This psalm therefore echoes the promises of the prophet Malachi: "The sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings" (Mal 3:20). The singers of this psalm are the poor of the Lord, those who await the coming of Christ as light and warmth. Once it was only Israel that sang: "Acclaim the Lord, all the earth, acclaim your king!" But in the last days, all creation will join in this song of victory, no longer just the chosen people. In Hebrew, the verb "to acclaim" evokes the cry of triumph of the victor on the battlefield ("teru'ah"). But in the new world, this cry will no longer be one of war, but of joy and salvation, because — as Isaiah says (51:8): "My righteousness shall endure forever, my salvation from generation to generation." Jesus teaches us to pray, "Thy Kingdom come," which is the fulfilment of God's eternal dream: universal reconciliation and communion, in which all creation will sing in unison the justice and peace of its Lord.

Second Reading from the Second Letter of Saint Paul the Apostle to the Thessalonians (3:7-12)

Saint Paul writes: "If anyone does not want to work, let him not eat" (2 Thessalonians 3:10). Today, this phrase cannot be repeated literally, because it does not refer to the unemployed of good will of our time, but to a completely different situation. Paul is not talking about those who cannot work, but those who do not want to work, taking advantage of the expectation of the imminent coming of the Lord to live in idleness. In Paul's world, there was no shortage of work. When he arrived in Corinth, he easily found employment with Priscilla and Aquila, who were in the same trade as him: tentmakers (Acts 18:1-3). His manual labour, weaving goat hair cloth, a skill he had learned in Tarsus in Cilicia, was tiring and not very profitable, but it allowed him not to be a burden to anyone: 'In toil and hardship, night and day we worked so as not to be a burden to anyone' (2 Thessalonians 3:8). This continuous work, supported also by the financial help of the Philippians, became for Paul a living testimony against the idleness of those who, convinced of the imminent return of Christ, had abandoned all commitment. His phrase 'if anyone does not want to work, let him not eat' is not a personal invention, but a common rabbinical saying, an expression of ancient wisdom that combined faith and concrete responsibility. The first reason Paul gives is respect for others: not taking advantage of the community, not living at the expense of others. Faith in the coming of the Kingdom must not become a pretext for passivity. On the contrary, waiting for the Kingdom translates into active and supportive commitment: Christians collaborate in the construction of the new world with their own hands, their own intelligence, their own dedication. Paul implicitly recalls the mandate of Genesis: 'Subdue the earth and subjugate it' (Gen 1:28), which does not mean exploiting it, but taking part in God's plan, transforming the earth into a place of justice and love, a foretaste of his Kingdom. The Kingdom is not born outside the world, but grows within history, through the collaboration of human beings. As Father Aimé Duval sings: "Your heaven will be made on earth with your arms." And as Khalil Gibran writes in The Prophet: "When you work, you realise a part of the dream of the earth... Work is love made visible." In this perspective, every gesture of love, care and service, even if unpaid, is a participation in the building of the Kingdom of God. To work, to create, to serve, is to collaborate with the Creator. Saint Peter reminds us: “With the Lord, one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day... He is not slow in keeping his promise, but he is patient, wanting everyone to come to repentance” (2 Peter 3:8-9). This means that the time of waiting is not empty, but a time entrusted to our responsibility. Every act of justice, every good work, every gesture of love hastens the coming of the Kingdom. Therefore, the text concludes, if we truly desire the Kingdom of God to come sooner, we have not a minute to lose. Here is a small spiritual summary: Idleness is not simply a lack of work, but a renunciation of collaboration with God. Work, in whatever form, is part of the divine dream: to make the earth a place of communion and justice. Waiting for the Kingdom does not mean escaping from the world, but committing ourselves to transforming it. Every gesture of love is a stone laid for the Kingdom to come. Those who work with a pure heart hasten the dawn of the 'Sun of Justice' promised by the prophets.

From the Gospel according to Luke (21:5-19)

'Not a hair of your head will be lost.' This is prophetic language, not literal. We see every day that hair is indeed lost! This shows that Jesus' words are not to be taken literally, but as symbolic language. Jesus, like the prophets before him, does not make predictions about the future: he preaches. He does not announce chronicles of events, but keys of faith to interpret history. His discourse on the end of the Temple should also be understood in this way: it is not a horoscope of the apocalypse, but a teaching on how to live the present with faith, especially when everything seems to be falling apart. The message is clear: 'Whatever happens... do not be afraid!' Jesus invites us not to base our lives on what is passing. The Temple of Jerusalem, restored by Herod and covered with gold, was splendid, but destined to collapse. Every earthly reality, even the most sacred or solid, is temporary. True stability does not lie in stones, but in God. Jesus does not offer details about the 'when' or 'how' of the Kingdom; he shifts the question: 'Be careful not to be deceived...'. We do not need to know the calendar of the future, but to live the present in faithfulness. Jesus warns his disciples: "Before all this, they will persecute you, they will drag you before kings and governors because of my Name." Luke, who writes after years of persecution, knows well how true this is: from Stephen to James, from Peter to Paul, to many others. But even in persecution, Jesus promises: "I will give you a word and wisdom that no one will be able to resist." This does not mean that Christians will be spared death — "they will kill some of you" — but that no violence can destroy what you are in God: "Not a hair of your head will be lost." It is a way of saying: your life is kept safe in the hands of the Father. Even through death, you remain alive in God's life. Jesus twice uses the expression "for my Name's sake." In Hebrew, "The Name" refers to God himself: to say "for the Name's sake" is to say "for God's sake." Thus Jesus reveals his own divinity: to suffer for his Name is to participate in the mystery of his love. In the Acts of the Apostles, Saint Luke shows Peter and John who, after being flogged, "went away rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering for the Name of Jesus" (Acts 5:41). It is the same certainty that Saint Paul expresses in his Letter to the Romans: "Neither death nor life, nor any creature can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus" (Rom 8:38-39). Catastrophes, wars, epidemics — all these "shocks" of the world — must not take away our peace. The true sign of believers is the serenity that comes from trust. In the turmoil of the world, the calmness of God's children is already a testimony. Jesus sums it up in one word: "Take courage: I have overcome the world!" (Jn 16:33). And here is a spiritual synthesis: Jesus does not promise a life without trials, but a salvation stronger than death. Not even a hair...' means that no part of you is forgotten by God. Persecution does not destroy, but purifies faith. Nothing can separate us from the love of God: our security is the risen Christ. To believe is to remain steadfast, even when everything trembles.

+ Giovanni D'Ercole

(Lk 20:27-40)

The defeat of death is the cruel fate that has clouded the mind of all civilizations.

But if God creates us and calls incessantly to enter into dialogue, then what remains of us? Is the goal of all our turmoil a pit?

The Sadducees want to ridicule the doctrine of the resurrection dear to the Pharisees and - it seems - also to Jesus.

However, Master does not apply provisional categories of this world to dimensions that go beyond.

The ties also must be conceived in the relief of the divine reality.

Members of the priestly class did not believe in another life, and in the Torah it seemed to them that there was no note about the resurrection.

In short, they conceived the relationship with God in the dimension of life on earth.

In fact, the Pharisees believed in the raising of the dead in a very banal sense: a sort of improvement and sublimation of the (same) conditions of being natural.

For them, the existence of the afterlife was only an accentuated, ennobled and embellished extension of this form of our being.

Instead life «in the era, that» [v.35 Greek text] is not a strengthened existence, but an indescribable and new condition - as of direct communication. Comparable to the immediacy of love.

The body decays, gets sick and undergoes dissolution: it’s a natural cycle.

‘Resurrection of the flesh’ designates access to an intimate existence of pure Relationship, in our weakness and precariousness, assumed.

Evangelists use two terms to indicate the difference between these forms of life: (transliterating) Bìos and Zoe Aiònios [Life of the Eternal] which has nothing to do with the biological reality [v.36: «equal to angels»].

Life «in the era, that» is not an enhanced existence with respect to this mode of existence, but an indescribable and new condition - precisely, as of ‘direct communication’.

Comparable to the one-to-one of Friendship: a ‘being-with and for’ others; readily, everywhere.

Collimating with the way of existence of the Angels: they do not have a life transmitted by parents, but by God himself.

«About the bush...» - Jesus replies. He also silences the Sadducees by making them reflect; and He draws the foundation of the Resurrection (but as He understands it) precisely from Exodus.

Thus He shows that already in the Law there is a presentation of God incompatible with a destiny of humanity devoted to extermination.

The Father does not seek dialogue with the sons and then make them fall on the most beautiful.

Since creation, He takes pleasure in walking with man, and from the patriarchs he has been looking for empathy with us. His Love does not abandon.

In the archaic religious mentality the Most High was named after the region or the heights in its borders [es. Baal of Gad, Baal of Saphon, Baal of Peor, etc.].

The God of Israel already from the First Testament binds his heart to man - no longer to a territory: He is the God of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob.

The Father of life arouses all understanding, Alliances, and if the ally could be annihilated, the same divine identity would be shattered.

All the Scriptures attest to this: He is a God of the living, not of dust or of the nothingness.

This is why we call our missing loved ones «deceased» or «departed» - not "dead".

[Saturday 33rd wk. in O.T.  November 22, 2025]

And God binding His heart to humanity

(Lk 20:27-40)

The defeat of death is the cruel destiny that has clouded the minds of all civilisations, infusing disorientation and anguished thoughts about the meaning of life, about why each of us exists.

If God creates us and calls us ceaselessly, to enter into dialogue with us, then what is left? Is the goal of all our agitation a pit?

The Sadducees want to ridicule the doctrine of resurrection dear to the Pharisees and - it seems - to Jesus as well.

He, however, held that the Father was far more than a Living One... who finally began to raise corpses!

[This is why we call our departed loved ones 'deceased' - not 'dead'].

In the Semitic mentality, the norm of 'levirate' mirrored a feeble idea of existence after death - relegated to mere continuity of name.

The members of the priestly class did not believe in another life: they preached the religion that served to obtain blessings for existing on this earth in a comfortable manner - and that was enough for them.

In short, they conceived their relationship with God in the dimension of life on earth.

The Sadducees had already built their 'paradise' for themselves in the city and outside.

Their large villas with courtyards and private pools for ablutions were right on the hill opposite the Temple in Jerusalem, on the opposite side of the Mount of Olives (i.e. towards the west).

Their second homes - where they spent the winter - were in Jericho.

Also because of their direct interest in the sacrificial activity they carried out, they still believed that prophetic texts had no dignity as sacred Scripture: only the Law reflected God's will.

And in the Torah it seemed to them that there was no note about the resurrection of the dead.

So they also tried to frame Jesus, with an artfully constructed paradox, to highlight the contradictions of this belief - which only appeared from the 2nd century BC in the book of Daniel and in Maccabees.

They considered it absurd - therefore they intended to discredit the 'Master' [a term they used to designate him in order to ridicule him: v.28].

Indeed, the foothold was there, for the Pharisees believed in the resurrection in the trivial sense. A kind of accentuation, improvement or sublimation of (the same) natural living conditions - and bonds.

Thus not a definitive, boundless, qualitatively indestructible form.

In essence, in the 'world beyond' everyone would fully enjoy the family and clan affections of the previous form of life - and so on.

The 'afterlife' was to be nothing more than a sublimated, ennobled and embellished extension of this way of existing; without disease, suffering, various problems.

[In short, life only advanced; perhaps as it was once conveyed to us by willing catechists... but little attentive to the Word of God].

So precisely the Sadducees - conservatives - who only accepted the Pentateuch - where they maintained that there is no mention of another, further life.

In this way, they had an easy job of exposing the fragility of that popular belief, to which the leaders of Phariseeism were conversely attached.

However, the Master does not apply categories of this world, provisional, to dimensions that go beyond.

Even bonds must be conceived in the relief of divine reality.

In the Latin milieu, even today, the way of understanding the Resurrection is influenced not a little by the representational modes of the pictorial tradition.

Reading the representations to which we are accustomed... we notice that immediately the Risen One puts down the gendarmes and frightens everyone.

He emerges from the tomb with the banner of victory, strong and muscular. He bursts in as if coming back this way to beat his adversaries.

Descriptive and naturalistic claims that do not do credit to the Faith and almost ridicule the Gospels.

Conversely, in Eastern icons, the Resurrection is understood and depicted in a substantial, mysterious way: the Descent to the Underworld.

It is not a triumph of God, who imposes himself on the world. He has no need of it.

Rather, the theological event remains in support of the victory of his children, who receive life directly from the Father.

Here is the redemption of the ordinary woman and man [Adam and Eve] who are drawn from the tombs by the divine - not natural - power of the Risen Christ.

The ultimate world turns the idea of the Sheôl upside down and totally unhinges it, clearing away the darkness - and that great drama of humanity.

One enters God's world; one does not return this way - perhaps to live better: rejuvenated and healthy rather than sick, in a villa with a garden rather than a studio apartment.

Life 'in the age of that' [v.35 Greek text] is not an enhanced mode of existence, but an indescribable and new condition - as of direct communication.

Comparable to the immediacy of love: a being-with and for others. Collimating to the Angels' mode of existence (v.36): they do not have a life transmitted by parents, but by God himself.The body decays, falls ill and goes into dissolution: it is a natural cycle.

"Resurrection of the flesh" designates access to an intimate existence of pure relationship, to the very intimacy of God - in our weakness and precariousness, assumed.

Obviously we cannot believe that we are being brought into the Divine Condition if during our earthly course we have not experienced a constant existential death-resurrection vector.

It is the experience of gain in defeat; in particular, the discovery of an unthinkable life, which made us rejoice with Happiness. For Amazement: in the providential transmutation of our weak and obscure sides, from sluggish appearances to strengths.

Becoming evolutionary, perhaps the best of us.

The evangelists use two terms to indicate the difference between these two forms of being: (transliterating from the Greek) Bìos, and Zoè Aiònios.

The Zoë, Life itself of the Eternal, is keenly relational and experienceable - but it has nothing to do with biological existence and our carcass ["equal to the angels" v.36].

What does not die is not the DNA of the body, but the heavenly DNA, which we have received as a gift from the Father.

The divine Gold dwells in us and - if we wish - can surface already, in a full existence, of realisation of one's Vocation, in an atmosphere of Communion.

Life "in the age of the one" is not an enhanced existence compared to this mode of existence, but an indescribable and new condition - as of direct communication.

Comparable to the face-to-face of Friendship: a being-with and for others; readily, everywhere.

Collimating to the Angels' way of existence: they do not have a life transmitted by parents, but precisely by God Himself.

"About the Bush..." - Jesus retorts.

He also muzzles the Sadducees, making them think, treating them as incompetent.

He draws the foundation of the 'doctrine' of the Resurrection [but as He understands it] precisely from the book of Exodus.

Thus he shows that right from the scrolls of the Law there is a presentation of the Eternal One that is incompatible with the destiny of a humanity doomed to extermination.

The Father does not seek dialogue with His children only to have them fall at the most beautiful moment.

Since creation He has delighted in walking with man, and since the patriarchs He has sought empathy with us.

His Love does not abandon.

In the archaic religious mentality, each shrine was named after the deity, specified by its territory or the heights in its borders [e.g. Baal of Gad, Baal of Saphon, Baal of Peor, etc.].

A bad pagan vice that we have unfortunately inherited.

The God of Israel since the First Testament binds his heart to man - no longer to a territory: the 'God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob'.

It was possible for the three Patriarchs to have descendants, not by natural concatenation.

In that mentality, the only possibility of perpetuating life from generation to generation was to be able to pass on one's name to the firstborn male.

This happened instead by intervention from above, while the wives were sterile [infertile matriarchs: Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, long without heirs].

The Father of life gives rise to all understandings, covenants, and if the ally could be annihilated, the divine identity itself would crumble.

All Scripture attests to this: he is a God of the living - not of the dead (of dust, of insubstantiality, of nothingness).

The five Books of Moses were the only ones that the Sadducees recognized in the canon of the Old Testament and there is no mention in them of the Resurrection; so they denied it. The Lord shows the reality of the Resurrection precisely by these five Books and says: “Have you not read what was said to you by God, ‘I am the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob?’” (cf. Mt 22:31-32). God therefore takes these three and in his very name they become the name of God. To understand who this God is it is necessary to see these figures who became the name of God, a name of God, who are immersed in God. In this way we see that anyone who is in the name of God, who is immersed in God, is alive, because God — the Lord says — is not a God of the dead but of the living, and if he is the God of the latter, he is a God of the living.

The living are alive because they are in our memory, in God’s life. And this happens to us in being baptized: we come to be inserted in the name of God, so that we belong to this name and his name becomes our name and we too, with our witness — like the three in the Old Testament — can be witnesses of God, a sign of who this God is, a name of this God.

Consequently, being baptized means being united to God; in a unique, new existence we belong to God, we are immersed in God himself.

[Pope Benedict, Lectio 11 June 2012]

1. We resume today, after a rather long pause, the meditations we have been holding for some time and which we have called reflections on the theology of the body.

In continuing, it is worthwhile, this time, to return to the words of the Gospel, in which Christ refers to the resurrection: words that have a fundamental importance for understanding marriage in the Christian sense and also "the renunciation" of married life "for the sake of the kingdom of heaven".

The complex casuistry of the Old Testament in the field of matrimony not only prompted the Pharisees to come to Christ to put to him the problem of the indissolubility of marriage (cf. Mt 19:3-9 ; Mk 10:2-12 ), but also, another time, the Sadducees, to question him on the law of the so-called Levirate (this law, contained in Deut 25:7-10 , concerns brothers living under the same roof. If one of them died without leaving children, the brother of the deceased had to take the widow of the dead brother as his wife. The child born of this marriage was recognised as the son of the deceased, so that his lineage would not be extinguished and the inheritance would be preserved in the family [cf. Deut 3:9-4:12 ]). This conversation is reported in agreement by the Synoptics (cf. Mt 22:24-30 ; Mk 12:18-27 ; Lk 20:27-40 ). Although all three redactions are almost identical, some slight but, at the same time, significant differences can be noted between them. Since the colloquy is referred to in three versions, those of Matthew, Mark and Luke, a more in-depth analysis is required, as it includes contents that are of essential significance for the theology of the body.

Next to the other two important colloquies, namely: the one in which Christ refers to the "beginning" (cf. Mt 19:3-9 ; Mk 10:2-12 ), and the other in which he refers to the intimacy of man (to the "heart"), pointing to the desire and concupiscence of the flesh as the source of sin (cf. Mt 5:27-32 ), the colloquy, which we now propose to analyse, constitutes, I would say, the third component of the triptych of Christ's own utterances: a triptych of essential and constitutive words for the theology of the body. In this colloquy, Jesus refers to the resurrection, thus revealing a completely new dimension of the mystery of man.

2.

The revelation of this dimension of the body, stupendous in its content - and yet connected with the Gospel reread in its entirety and to its very depth - emerges in the conversation with the Sadducees, "who affirm that there is no resurrection" (1); they have come to Christ to present him with an argument that - in their opinion - validates the reasonableness of their position. This argument was to contradict "the hypothesis of the resurrection". The reasoning of the Sadducees is as follows: "Master, Moses left us written that if the brother of one dies and leaves his wife childless, the brother shall take his wife to give offspring to his brother" ( Mk 12:19 ). The Sadducees refer here to the so-called law of Levirate (cf. Deut 25:5-10 ), and referring back to the prescription of this ancient law, they present the following "case": "There were seven brothers: the first took a wife and died without leaving any descendants; then the second took her, but died without leaving any descendants; and the third likewise, and none of the seven left any descendants. Finally, after all, the woman also died. In the resurrection, when they rise again, to which of them will the woman belong? For seven had her as their wife" ( Mk 12:20-23 . The Sadducees, turning to Jesus for a purely theoretical "case", at the same time attack the Pharisees' primitive conception of life after the resurrection of bodies; in fact, they insinuate that belief in the resurrection of bodies leads to the admission of polyandry, which is contrary to the law of God.

3.

Christ's answer is one of the key-answers of the Gospel, in which another dimension of the question is revealed - precisely from and in contrast to purely human reasoning - namely that which corresponds to the wisdom and power of God himself. Similarly, for example, the case of the tribute coin with the image of Caesar and the correct relationship between what in the sphere of power is divine and what is human ("Caesar's") (cf. Mt 22:15-22 ). This time Jesus replies as follows: "Are ye not in error, since ye know not the scriptures, nor the power of God? For when they rise from the dead, they will not take wives or husbands, but will be as angels in heaven" ( Mk 12:24-25 ). This is the basic answer to the 'case', i.e. to the problem contained therein. Christ, knowing the conceptions of the Sadducees, and intuiting their authentic intentions, takes up, later, the problem of the possibility of the resurrection, denied by the Sadducees themselves: "Concerning the dead who are to be raised, have you not read in the book of Moses, concerning the bush, how God spoke to him, saying: I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and Jacob? He is not a God of the dead, but of the living" ( Mk 12:26-27 ). As we can see, Christ quotes the same Moses to whom the Sadducees referred, and ends by saying: "You are in great error" ( Mk 12:27 ).

4.

Christ also repeats this concluding statement a second time. In fact, the first time he pronounced it at the beginning of his exposition. He said then: "You deceive yourselves, knowing neither the scriptures nor the power of God": so we read in Matthew ( Mt 22,29 ). And in Mark: "Are ye not deceived, since ye know not the scriptures, neither the power of God?" ( Mark 12,24 ). By contrast, Christ's own reply, in Luke's version ( Lk 20:27-36 ), is devoid of polemical accent, of that "you are in great error". On the other hand, he proclaims the same thing insofar as he introduces some elements into his reply that are not found in either Matthew or Mark. Here is the text: "Jesus replies: the children of this world take a wife and take a husband; but they that are accounted worthy of the other world, and of the resurrection from the dead, take neither wife nor husband: neither can they die any more, for they are equal to the angels, and being children of the resurrection, they are the children of God" ( Lk 20:34-36 ). Concerning the very possibility of the resurrection, Luke - like the two other synoptics - refers to Moses, that is, to the passage in the Book of Exodus 3:2-6, where it is narrated that the great legislator of the Old Covenant had heard from the bush, which "burned in the fire and was not consumed", the following words: "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob" ( Ex 3:6 ). In the same place, when Moses had asked the name of God, he had heard the answer: "I am he who is" ( Ex 3:14 ).

Thus then, speaking of the future resurrection of bodies, Christ refers to the very power of the living God.

[Pope John Paul II, General Audience 11 November 1981]

Within just days of the Solemnity of All Saints and of the Commemoration of the faithful departed, this Sunday’s Liturgy invites us once again to reflect upon the mystery of the resurrection of the dead. The Gospel (cf. Lk 20:27-38) presents Jesus confronted by several Sadducees, who did not believe in the resurrection and considered the relationship with God only in the dimension of earthly life. Therefore, in order to place the resurrection under ridicule and to create difficulty for Jesus, they submit a paradoxical and absurd case: that of a woman who’d had seven husbands, all brothers, who died one after the other. Thus came the malicious question posed to Jesus: in the resurrection, whose wife will the woman be (v. 33)?

Jesus does not fall into the snare and emphasizes the truth of the resurrection, explaining that life after death will be different from that on earth. He makes his interlocutors understand that it is not possible to apply the categories of this world to the realities that transcend and surpass what we see in this life. He says, in fact: “The sons of this age marry and are given in marriage; but those who are accounted worthy to attain to that age and to the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage” (vv. 34-35). With these words, Jesus means to explain that in this world we live a provisional reality, which ends; conversely, in the afterlife, after the resurrection, we will no longer have death as the horizon and will experience all things, even human bonds, in the dimension of God, in a transfigured way. Even marriage, a sign and instrument of God in this world, will shine brightly, transformed in the full light of the glorious communion of saints in Paradise. 

The “sons of heaven and of the resurrection” are not a few privileged ones, but are all men and all women, because the salvation that Jesus brings is for each one of us. And the life of the risen shall be equal to that of angels (cf. v. 36), meaning wholly immersed in the light of God, completely devoted to his praise, in an eternity filled with joy and peace. But pay heed! Resurrection is not only the fact of rising after death, but is a new genre of life which we already experience now; it is the victory over nothing that we can already anticipate. Resurrection is the foundation of the faith and of Christian hope. Were there no reference to Paradise and to eternal life, Christianity would be reduced to ethics, to a philosophy of life. Instead, the message of Christian faith comes from heaven, it is revealed by God and goes beyond this world. Belief in resurrection is essential in order that our every act of Christian love not be ephemeral and an end in itself, but may become a seed destined to blossom in the garden of God, and to produce the fruit of eternal life. 

May the Virgin Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth, confirm us in the hope of resurrection and help us to make fruitful in good works her Son’s word sown in our hearts.

[Pope Francis, Angelus 6 November 2016]

Little House of God? No more haggling with loan sharks

(Lk 19:45-48)

The teaching of Jesus in the sacred place is presented by Lk as enduring: «He was teaching every day» (v.47). Main topic: the Grace.

So over time we learn conviviality: encouraged to dialogue with our personal, unrepeatable Vocation, which captivates because it really corresponds.

And the intimate conviction is alone, incomparable, precious energy of transformative valence - which leads to not withdrawing from oneself, nor disregarding the reality of sisters and brothers.

Rather it induces to make Exodus, explore new conditions of being, transfigure perception into blissful action.

Hunting the false friends of religiosity, the Lord is not so much oriented to compensate the purity of the Place, nor to mend and revive the enamel of the sober original cult - as Prophets wanted.

He renders a holy service not to ancient God, but to people - by that system [or tangle] made totally unaware of their vocational dignity: only chained, milked, and sheared.

The first Tent of God is therefore humanity itself, its beating heart - not a delimited space:

Upon entering Jerusalem, the Master takes possession of the heavenly House - which is not the Temple, but the People.

He doesn’t teach to enter into habitual and formal armor accepted by the contour, but distant from persons.

Rather, He stimulates us not to restrain our true nature with costume hoods, according to which "it’s never enough".

Our inner world should not be hysterically regarded as a dangerous stranger.

Innate roots and our natural energy have the right to flourish and prevail over common manners or ideas: they are an experimental trace of the Divine.

In them there is a Personal bond, which wins every intimate torment.

We must therefore change our approach. He himself is the essential point of the Eternal’s worship.

In this light of Person in his Person, everyone can embrace proposals that are not of others and intruders; wich will not turn out to be ballasts.

The phantasmagorical ancient culmination is becoming periphery, it’s decaying. And to find ourselves, we have difficulties.

An opportunity not to be missed to proceed in a living and singular way, in tune with an ever new teaching on unprecedented Love, which takes our step.

It’s the burning Appeal of «the Mount», which focusses on ‘passion’: precisely on Desire.

No more a strict call to the "no" of great appearances - but finally Listening to the Voice in the soul, which amazes (v.48).

Authentic sacred of the temple.

No more loan sharks in power.

With what does not correspond, even from a cultural, social and spiritual point of view, we no longer haggle.

[Friday 33rd wk. in O.T.  November 21, 2025]